Rrrrooooaaaaaaauuuuuu! roars the hissing Roadtrain

Day: 218 Stage three / total expedition days 609

Sunrise:
05:23

Sunset:
18:53

As the crow flies:
23,4

Daily kilometers:
31

Total kilometers:
6298 km

Temperature - Day (maximum):
38° degrees, sun approx. 58°

Temperature - Night:
20.8° degrees

Latitude:
22°14'03.8"

Longitude:
147°14'57.4"

Frankfield Camp – 12/20/2002

After just a few kilometers, the cleared path next to the main road suddenly ceases to exist. “And now what?” Tanja asks. “Hm, I don’t know,” I reply, looking around. “Oh, look! There’s a gate at the front of the border fence. Let’s go on the other side of the fence. There’s usually a path there so that the station people can check their fence for damage,” I say confidently and give Sebastian the command to start running

In fact, we can follow a barely used path on the other side of the fence. However, it doesn’t take long for him to disappear completely and before we know it I have to lead the camels zigzagging through dense bushes again. The terrain suddenly becomes hilly. Many small dried-up ditches lie in our path. I carefully lead our boys down the steep embankments and back up again. Sometimes we even have to walk hundreds of meters away from the fence, taking one detour after another. However, the main road leads in a relatively straight line through the difficult landscape, so that we now wish we could walk on it. Unfortunately, the fence blocks our access to it, forcing us to continue our cross-country march.

When we get close to the fence again, a jeep stops on the road. A woman jumps out and comes running over to us. It’s Veronika from Willesley Station. Tanja phoned her a few days ago to ask if there was dingo bait or Heart Leave bush growing on her land. “Oh, it’s so nice to meet you. A real coincidence. We have to drive some cattle off the road a little south of here. They got through the fence somewhere. On the way down there I suddenly saw your caravan running. Oh, I’m glad. It’s not something you see every day. Is there anything I can do for you?” asks the nice woman. “No thanks. Everything is fine with us so far,’ I reply. “By the way, there’s a steep creek bed up ahead. I don’t know if you can get over it with your camels. Would you like me to drive you there quickly?” Veronika offers us. After a short consideration I come to the conclusion that caution is better than forbearance. While Tanja looks after the camels, I sit in her jeep a little later. “There it is,” she says, pointing to the ravine. I examine the steeply sloping bank. In fact, it is impassable in most places, but I discover a washout through which I can easily lead our boys.

After Veronika has dropped me off at Tanja’s again, we say goodbye and continue our cross-country march. We cross the small gorge without incident and wind our way through the bush until another border fence completely blocks our way. “Well, that really doesn’t make sense any more. We’ll never get to Clermont before Christmas this way. If we find another gate, we’ll try to continue our march on the road,” I say, out of breath.

“ROADTRAAAIIIIN!” TANJA’S WARNING CALL STARTLES ME.

Fortunately, we find two fence gates about a kilometer from the road that clear the way to the road. Relieved, we now use the smooth tar strip to take our train south. “I’d better walk behind the caravan. That way I can warn you about upcoming road trains and cars,” says Tanja. “Good idea,” I reply and move our boys on. “Roadtraaaiiiin!” Tanja’s warning cry startles me just a few moments later. I immediately pull Sebastian to the right into the side ditch. Because our stretched camel train is about 26 meters long, Jasper, Edgar and Istan still walk on the road. As the huge road train thunders past like a monster, Jasper and Edgar race directly to the left into the middle of the road. We watch in horror as the huge steel colossus misses them by just a few meters. “Phew, that’s dangerous. We really have to teach them to swerve to the right. If they keep fleeing to the wrong side of the road, sooner or later they’ll get hit in the eye,’ I say, deeply frightened. “What do you suggest?” “You lead the caravan and I’ll run alongside Jasper and Edgar, armed with the plastic pipe. If they try to flee to the middle of the road again, they’ll have to deal with the pipe. I hope that helps.” “Hm, okay,” Tanja replies and gives the camels the order to start running.

Everything goes well for a while. We are making good progress. A few cars speed past without Jasper trying to swerve far into the road. Suddenly I hear the deep rumble of a heavy engine again. “Roadtraaaiiin!” I warn Tanja. The dark, powerful roar of the engine gives Jasper the heebie-jeebies and he tries to break off towards the middle of the road. “Over Jasper! Get over here!” I shout at the top of my lungs, but he doesn’t take the slightest notice of me. His panic trumps everything. He tries to push me onto my side with his big body. I stumble, but catch myself and sprint forward like a rocket. The road train is only a few hundred meters behind us. Tanja has already led Sebastian into the ditch. “Keep running!” I shout at her as she looks around nervously. If she were to stop Sebastian in this situation, the animals would run into each other and inevitably pile up on the road. Since a heavily loaded road train needs several hundred meters to come to a halt, we are undoubtedly in an extremely dangerous situation. “Get over there! Get over there!” I yell and bang my plastic pipe on Jasper’s ass. He is startled and suddenly speeds off to the left into the middle of the road. Behind me, I hear the road train apply its brakes and shift down a gear. The noise now also terrifies Edgar. Again I jump forward as if bitten by a tarantula and this time I let my plastic pipe hit Jasper’s shoulder. “Get away from here! Get over there! Or are you going to kill us all?” I yell in an inhuman voice clutched in deep fear. Due to my animalistic appearance, the roaring and the pipe repeatedly whizzing through the air, Jasper suddenly becomes more afraid of me than of anything else. Just in time, overcome by a new panic, he chases to the right into the ditch, dragging Edgar and Istan with him. Rrrrooooaaaaaaauuuuu! the hissing road train roars like a carnivorous dinosaur as it whizzes past our camel train in a wide arc.

IT OFTEN MAKES NO SENSE TO ASSERT YOUR WILL

“Phewhh! That was close,” I say to Tanja. “We can’t go on like this. It’s too dangerous.” “That’s right. I can only hope that Jasper is now more afraid of me than of the vehicles.” “And if not? What if he swerves to the left anyway? He’ll drive himself and you under the wheels.” “That’s a terrible thought,” I reply, brooding. “I’ve got it!” I shout as a flash of inspiration gives me the simple answer. “What?” “We just run on the left side of the road. Since Jasper and Edgar always swerve to the left, they’ll run off the road into the bushes. That’s the solution!” I shout enthusiastically and change sides of the road.

In fact, my plan works fantastically well. Whenever a truck or road train passes by with a loud roar, Jasper and Edgar jump into the bushes as planned. We are relieved. Once again, this situation shows us that it often makes no sense to impose your will. There are often painless alternatives that lead to the same result without exertion.

We have also covered over 30 kilometers today when we reach our camp, tired and exhausted. A light cloud cover obscures the sun, which is why unloading the 1200 kilograms of heavy equipment is not quite so strenuous this afternoon.

We spend the afternoon under our tarpaulin. After my navigation, I give Rufus the drops again. They seem to be working because his eyes are not quite as swollen today as they were yesterday.

In the late afternoon, dark clouds gather to the south-east of us. “Will it rain?” Tanja asks, looking up at the sky. “It’s quite possible,” I reply, because the barometer on my Suunto watch is set to low. “Maybe you should put up the tent.” “I don’t know. If it doesn’t rain, I’ll do all the work for nothing again,” I reply, dog-tired. “Whatever you say,” says Tanja and stretches out on her freshly repaired camp bed.

74 ½ YEARS ON FOOT TO THE MOON

I also stretch and stretch and watch the very slowly approaching clouds. The moon, which has been waning for two days, casts its cold, bright light on the gidyea trees next to us. From time to time, a gleaming spotlight pierces the night. Long before the car shoots past on the nearby road, I hear the engine. Like a fired bullet, the sound makes its way through the layers of air in the darkness. Rrooaauu! The metal vehicle hisses past us through the silence and disappears into the darkness with a rumbling murmur. Once again, the soothing shroud of calm settles over us. I listen into the silence and suddenly hear the whisper of a light breeze. No sooner have I caught the subtle sound with my wide-awake senses than it fades back into inaudibility. A bird begins to chirp. His soothing singing seems to me as if the most glorious notes were floating down to us from the trees behind and beside us. Suddenly he stops his melodic singing. Once again, the silence of the night envelops us. I listen intently, hear the silence and believe I can hear it. It is a silence of sleep, a silence of life, a silence of peace that promises another sunrise.

I watch the moon spellbound as it seems to smile at me with its shadows and contours. 406,699 kilometers is the greatest distance from here to there. How long would a person have to walk to cover this enormous distance? If I take our average running distance over the last few years as a basis, we have covered around 15 kilometers a day with all the breaks. It was only this afternoon that I worked out with my calculator that we would need about 27,113 days to cover this distance. That is the equivalent of 74 ½ years. A rocket needs about six days for the outward and return flight. We need three years for our south-north and west-east crossing of the Australian continent. A passenger plane can cover the same distance in around eight hours. Time is relative, as this comparison of calculations shows me. But I’m glad I didn’t cover this distance at jet speed. Where would the adventures be? Where would the experiences be? The conversations with Mother Earth? What would I have learned? No, it’s good to have spent three years of my life walking across this fantastic continent. Of course I would also like to touch the moon with my feet like Neil A. Armstrong, who was the first man to set foot on the moon on July 20, 1969, but I didn’t become an astronaut, I became an adventurer. Thank God there is still enough to explore on our planet to satisfy my adventurous heart and thirst for exploration beyond death.

100,000 PLANETS WITH INTELLIGENT LIFE

My thoughts soar into this infinity as my eyes are distracted by the satellites that make their way through the blinking suns every few minutes. I follow its flight until the small point of light sinks into the sea of stars. I am fascinated to think that some stars are so far away from us that it takes millions of years for their light to reach us here on earth.

I’ve been lying there for at least two hours watching the beautiful performance until it suddenly gets darker. A cloud covers the moon and swallows up the light around us. The stars flash even brighter as a result. Some are subdued, some flicker brightly and others change color. With the naked eye, there are about 3000 that can be seen from one side of the globe. If you could look around the entire globe, you could see a total of 6000 stars without a telescope.

Although I have admired this spectacle countless times in the many years of our travel and expedition life, I cannot get enough of the sight. It awakens my imagination anew every time and wraps itself around my heart like a soft mantle of peace.

I wonder how many planets there are out there? Some time ago I read in the encyclopedia that it is certain that every star has planets orbiting around it. According to today’s science, there are more than 100 billion stars in a galaxy. (Star family) There are over 100 billion galaxies or star families in the universe. Suppose “only” one star in a galaxy had “only” one planet like the Earth and “only” one in a million of these planets had intelligent life. Then there would still be 100,000 planets with intelligent life. A fantastic idea that proves to me that there are actually and undoubtedly other creatures out there besides us.

Suddenly a strong wind comes up. Lightning rips through the sky in the southeast. A dark cloud front pushes across the canvas of the starry spectacle and ends my thoughts. At 10:30 p.m., I nervously look up at the dark sky. Without waiting any longer, I jump out of my camp bed and race to the tent bag. “What’s going on? Is it going to rain? Do you need me?” asks Tanja, who has woken up to the noise I’ve made. “No, just lie still. I’ll do it,’ I say and use our rake to rake the branches and stones aside so I can set up the tent. As soon as I have erected our trusty Fjäll Rävenzelt, a strong wind begins to blow through our camp. “Tanja! Now it’s time! Get up quickly!” I shout, driving the last pegs into the hard earth. “It’s best if you systematically go through our equipment from the first to the last saddle and put everything that isn’t packed waterproof under the saddlebags!” I shout, fighting against the increasingly fierce wind.

We now rush back and forth like nimble weasels. I grab Rufus’ blanket and throw it into the small vestibule (awning). It’s already raining when I click Rufus off his chain and he disappears into the awning as quick as an arrow without receiving an order. “Have you got everything?” I ask Tanja. “I think so,” she calls out and also disappears behind the protective canvas. The temperature automatically drops with the wind. There is thunder and lightning. The wind howls and the branches in the small gidyea forest bend considerably. I take another look at our camp and before I get completely soaked, I too seek shelter in the cozy fabric shelter. Only minutes later, the wind dies down again. It is raining lightly but steadily. The thunder becomes quieter and the lightning moves away in a north-westerly direction. I can hear the raindrops drumming on the tent for a long time before I finally find peace and fall asleep.