Everything goes according to plan

Day: 263 Stage three / total expedition days 654

Sunrise:
05:37

Sunset:
18:44

As the crow flies:
19,1

Daily kilometers:
28

Total kilometers:
6950 km

Temperature - Day (maximum):
36° degrees, sun approx. 55°

Temperature - Night:
20°

Latitude:
23°15'20.2"

Longitude:
150°40'03.9"

Cawarral Camp – 03.02.2003

We leave our tent again shortly after three o’clock. As there is no police escort waiting for us today, we allow ourselves breakfast. Then we pack up our things and continue our coastal walk. The first few kilometers are along side streets in the city of Rockhampton. Then we cross the industrial area. We pass a large factory. The people who drive past us in their cars look sad. Their faces give us the impression that they are frozen in timelessness. Even though our life is exhausting, I’m glad I don’t have to earn my money with such endlessly hard work. We have often suffered from the extreme weather conditions and events in recent weeks, months and years. I sometimes thought I was going to spit blood from the effort. But when I see this factory here and the poor people who visit it every day to earn a living, I wouldn’t want to swap places with them for the world. We are glad to leave the industrial district behind us and cross under a bridge. Then we turn into Rockhampton – Yeppoon Road. The traffic out of town is limited, but into town it is frightening. As we leave the city, our plan to walk along the four-lane road at this time turns out to be a good one.

Only in some places can we leave the asphalt strip for a few kilometers, otherwise we are forced to follow it. Without incident, after two hours we turn onto a small side road that leads us to the coastal town of Emu Park. Just like yesterday, oncoming passengers wave to us. They shout congratulations and congratulate us. Sometimes they even stop. “I just read about you in the newspaper and told my husband that we might bump into you. When I looked up, you were right in front of us. What a coincidence. That’s wonderful,” the woman says happily. We take the time to tell her a little about our expedition, whereupon she gives us the article. As we hardly ever see or hear newspaper articles and interviews about our trip, we are of course delighted. We say thank you and continue our march. After 28 kilometers of walking, we reach the small settlement of Cawarral at around 11:00 am. Tired, we set up camp on the edge of the sports field.

We have just unloaded our camels when a man comes to see us. “I just wanted to warn you. In the event of rain, the entire area here is up to one meter under water. The weather forecast predicts rain. It’s safer for you to set up camp up there by the forest.” As it takes at least 45 minutes to load the three camels again, we stay. Sharon will visit us in a few hours. Sharon wants to bring us fresh coffee and take over the camp guard for a few hours. This gives us the opportunity to visit our patient with your car and also to relocate the camp.

Shortly after 2 p.m., the lovely and extremely helpful woman appears. We chat for a while and drink the promised brewed coffee. “Will it rain?” I ask her. “I don’t think so. It hasn’t rained properly for over a year. You can hardly rely on the weather forecasts.” She replies. “However, the clouds are coming from the west. That could indeed mean rain. We should still move our camp when we get back,” I say. A short time later, we are sitting in her new off-road vehicle and driving towards Paradise Lagoons. Suddenly the floodgates open. It’s raining cats and dogs. The road immediately starts to steam up. “Can you smell that?” “Yes, you’d think we were sitting in the middle of a herb garden,” Tanja replies. Within minutes, the dry earth is under water. The thirsty and half-dried plants seem to open their pores and welcome the shower with a cloud of fragrance. “I think we should head back. If the weather moves over our camp, poor Sharon will be in the water,” I say.

When we reach the camp again, there is no sign of rain anywhere. Nevertheless, we evacuate the saddles and all the equipment. “See you in two hours,” we shout to Sharon as the off-road vehicle’s engine roars again and drives through the dense undergrowth. “I’m really curious to see how Sebastian is doing?” “Me too,” says Tanja thoughtfully. “To be honest, I can’t wait to see him,” I reply. Our nervousness increases during the car journey. How will we cope when he is dying? What if our water pumping campaign didn’t help? Was it the right decision to stop the medication against the vet’s recommendation? If Sebastian didn’t survive that night, do we have to blame ourselves for not spending the whole day with him? Oh God, oh God, my thoughts are going round and round in circles faster and faster. Now we turn into the road that leads to the camel enclosure. We stretch our heads while we are still driving. “Can you see him?” I ask. “No.” My heart beats so hard that I can feel the pulse beating in my neck. As soon as the jeep is parked, we jump out and run to the tree under which he has been sitting during the day for the last two weeks. “He’s not here!” Tanja says. Our eyes fly to the end of the fence. Sebastian is sitting. He looks towards us and sits down. Inspired, we hurry to him. “Sebastian! That’s a nice surprise not to find you lying down,” says Tanja happily. “Fantastic. I think he looks a little better.” “I cheer.” We immediately pour 10 liters of rainwater into a bucket, stir in 250 grams of electrolytes and pump the liquid into his mouth, just like yesterday. Sebastian refuses, moans, closes his lips and spits out a small part of it again. Despite everything, we manage to give him the elixir he needs to survive. Then I hold a carrot in front of his nose. Sebastian smells it and when he opens his mouth to eat it, we can’t believe our eyes. “Give him another one,” says Tanja excitedly. “Sure,” I reply and hold another carrot in front of his mouth. He also eats these without fussing about for long. We are over the moon. Our lead camel eats a total of five carrots and as many slices of white bread. Relieved, we leave the enclosure and drive to our approx.50 kilometers back to the camp site.

Sharon is now surrounded by people bombarding her with questions. “Oh, it’s good to see you again. Since you left, the locals have been coming and going to see you and the camels. I’m really sorry about yesterday. Now I know what it’s like and why you told me not to tell anyone about your presence on our land. I feel really bad because I had invited some of our friends. It’s quite exhausting to tell the same story over and over again. I don’t know how you can stand it for so long?” she chats. Tanja and I laugh. “Don’t worry about it. We’re used to it. We usually even enjoy talking to people,” Tanja replies.

“Hello, my name is Mike. Nice to see you. I wanted to film you tomorrow when you arrive at the Pacific Ocean. ABC News would like to feature a story about you. Is that okay with you?” the cameraman asks. “Of course,” I reply. “What time are you leaving tomorrow?” “We’ll be finished with the store at around 5:00. It would be good if you were there then,” I say. “5:00 a.m.? Wow, I’ll have to set at least four alarms,” he laughs.

After Sharon and Mike have said goodbye to us, more people from the surrounding area come and pepper us with questions. Some children want autographs, which we are happy to give them. When it gets dark, we are alone again. Dark storm clouds gather and obscure the stars. Wild flashes of lightning light up the black firmament. We sit spellbound in front of our mosquito tent and admire the natural spectacle. “Will it rain tomorrow?” Tanja asks quietly. “It’s easily possible.” “My God, it would be really fantastic if our arrival at the Pacific Ocean ended the drought.” “You’re right about that. We couldn’t wish for a better end to our crossing of the continent,” I reply, looking into the bright light of a glistening energy beam.