Well we’re sitting on the side of the Anne Beadell Track, half way between Coober Pedy and Emu, and I’m thinking what can I possibly write about today that would describe our feelings and emotions. As I look to the west along the track I see a sliver crescent of the moon; above is Venus, the brightest star in the night sky. Below sits Jupiter and Saturn. The sky fills with stars as we sit and talk about the day’s events and enjoy Robin’s spaghetti bolognaise.
We should have seen the writing on the wall as we rose in Coober: the gas line to the barbie catches fire; a jerry can has gone, another is open. The car fridge door is open. Then the word comes from Sharon in Wang that the website home page is down. The Brock Beemer is playing up and then we have to fix the hitch on the
tricky trailer; this actually involves grinding and drilling. The local police officer turns up (Tom, good horse) and takes our details. We buy a new jerry, and the do awards. Robin took the premiership for coming in on a new bike and just fitting in. Carl took the Outback Spectacular Hat for his effort in hitting a high speed on the
Beemer. At 10.30 we leave Coober Pedy.
Back on the track in the present time and we discuss the different virtues of the relationships between men and women, as you do at 9.30pm after a fair bit of beer, and then go on to discuss other stuff that will stay on the track. The trak…or highway as it is actually called. The Anne Beadell Highway caned us today. We tried, but we struggled…but we are not beaten. The bikes went well but Old Mate Chuck Wagon struggled and then took a fatal blow. We busted a leaf spring on the passenger’s side, the trailer went down and we were stuck. We are in a desert, with limited supplies, and with limited capacity to fix a leaf spring. Decision time. We called
everyone back in as the bikes were progressing well, and assessed the situation. At this time experience, capability, initiative and other skills and attributes came together. We worked up a plan. The bulk of the crew got on to pulling the wagon’s rolling gear apart. Hooch and Hector were detailed to whip back to Coober Pedy with the broken spring and a mission to replace or repair..and get some more bushes and a new treg hitch as
well, cause the bugger has broken as well!
Back to the present time and we have progressed to a conversation about the definition of ‘old mate’. If I
describe someone as ‘old mate’, what does the actually mean…or try on ‘big fella’, or ‘pal’. In many ways
it’s about respect we decide, although the conversation ebbs and flows. The mail back from Coober Pedy was not great. No springs, no hitch, no hope and we are at the Desert Cave 5 star motel. Well stuff them. We are sitting around the fire, with the beer of choice, the Goon Fairy, the moon has gone, and, well, this is what Trek The Trak is all
about.
We should have seen the writing on the wall as we rose in Coober: the gas line to the barbie catches fire; a jerry can has gone, another is open. The car fridge door is open. Then the word comes from Sharon in Wang that the website home page is down. The Brock Beemer is playing up and then we have to fix the hitch on the
tricky trailer; this actually involves grinding and drilling. The local police officer turns up (Tom, good horse) and takes our details. We buy a new jerry, and the do awards. Robin took the premiership for coming in on a new bike and just fitting in. Carl took the Outback Spectacular Hat for his effort in hitting a high speed on the
Beemer. At 10.30 we leave Coober Pedy.
Back on the track in the present time and we discuss the different virtues of the relationships between men and women, as you do at 9.30pm after a fair bit of beer, and then go on to discuss other stuff that will stay on the track. The trak…or highway as it is actually called. The Anne Beadell Highway caned us today. We tried, but we struggled…but we are not beaten. The bikes went well but Old Mate Chuck Wagon struggled and then took a fatal blow. We busted a leaf spring on the passenger’s side, the trailer went down and we were stuck. We are in a desert, with limited supplies, and with limited capacity to fix a leaf spring. Decision time. We called
everyone back in as the bikes were progressing well, and assessed the situation. At this time experience, capability, initiative and other skills and attributes came together. We worked up a plan. The bulk of the crew got on to pulling the wagon’s rolling gear apart. Hooch and Hector were detailed to whip back to Coober Pedy with the broken spring and a mission to replace or repair..and get some more bushes and a new treg hitch as
well, cause the bugger has broken as well!
Back to the present time and we have progressed to a conversation about the definition of ‘old mate’. If I
describe someone as ‘old mate’, what does the actually mean…or try on ‘big fella’, or ‘pal’. In many ways
it’s about respect we decide, although the conversation ebbs and flows. The mail back from Coober Pedy was not great. No springs, no hitch, no hope and we are at the Desert Cave 5 star motel. Well stuff them. We are sitting around the fire, with the beer of choice, the Goon Fairy, the moon has gone, and, well, this is what Trek The Trak is all
about.
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