Bad news from the outside world

Day: 158-162 Stage three / total expedition days 549-553

Sunrise:
05:50-05:46

Sunset:
18:38

Temperature - Day (maximum):
30°-40° degrees, in the sun approx. 55°-60°

Temperature - Night:
15°-22° degrees

Latitude:
24°02'32.9"

Longitude:
142°49'50.6"

Westerton-Camp – 21.10.2002 – 25.10.2002

It takes us two days to recover to some extent. Westerton is a good place for us to write this update. Above all, the camels can regenerate and if we are lucky, Istan’s hump will grow a little under the good feed.

It is strange, although the animals can rest here, it seems as if the poison of the mulga wood becomes particularly active when they rest. The inflammation on Instan’s penis breaks out again. It’s not as bad as it was but we still have to rub the area with the special cream. Jafar’s hip ulcer also moves up and down and still needs to be treated. I’m still really glad I didn’t ram a mulga spike into my finger when I was building the saddle on New Haven. It is simply unbelievable how protracted these injuries are.

Although the TV screen in the kitchen is broken, we’ll soon be watching the world news every evening. We hear about the catastrophe on the island of Bali and are shocked to the core, just like last year when we heard about the Twin Towers collapsing on September 11th. At the time we were camping next to an Aboriginal community on a sand dune and were informed of this drama purely by chance. After a long period of loneliness and isolation from the outside world, bad news seems to have a devastating effect on us.

It pains us greatly to hear that innocent people have once again had to give their lives for political and religious fanaticism and blindness. Tanja and I would like to take this opportunity to send our sympathy and condolences to all those affected.

We sit frozen in front of the flickering screen and hear about the sniper in Washington who has shot 10 people and terrified an entire city. No sooner has the newsreader finished this report than we hear about the drama in which a student here in Australia shot dead two classmates. This is followed by a report about a German tourist who was eaten by a crocodile when she carelessly went swimming in crocodile-infested waters at night. By the time the hostage-taking in Russia flickers across the airwaves, we’re all set. Confused by so much brutality and negativity, we sit there as if struck by a hammer and look at each other in silence. As if the sun had scorched my brain, my head is buzzing. It really makes me wonder if we want to go back to this crazy world of murder and death? What are heat, floods, cyclones and other forces of nature compared to man-made disasters? At least nature is straightforward and honest. What we have heard here in the news sounds rather sick and terribly sad.

The next day we are glad to survive one of the biggest sandstorms in decades in the shelter of the farmhouse. 1700 kilometers long and over 400 kilometers wide, this monster storm stretches across several Australian states and darkens the country. In some areas, visibility is only 200 meters. 10 million tons of surface soil and dust are carried to a height of over 2000 meters. For many farmers, this is another catastrophe and for some, this huge sandstorm means the end. The prolonged drought can cause such violent storms. We can only hope that we don’t have to experience one when we march out there.

“There’s a snake!” Tanja shouts as she runs to the washing line at night to see if our clothes are dry. “I’m coming,” I shout, grab the camera and race outside. Georg is with me. He has a shovel in his hand to kill them. “What kind is it?” I ask, looking at the very slowly wriggling reptile. “I don’t know. It’s too dark to make out her drawing,” Georg replies. We stand around for a while and are undecided as to whether we should kill them or not. “If we let it go, it will come back. Of course, it’s fatal to step on a poisonous snake out here,’ I say broodingly. “Have you ever killed a snake?” I want to know. “No,” he answers quietly. In the meantime, she winds her way towards a cupboard on the terrace. “You know that most people get bitten when they try to kill a snake?” “Hmm, yes.” “Well, don’t worry about it. At the end of the day, on average only five people a year die from a bite in Australia,” I joke, patting him on the back. “So if you kill her, you have to get her right behind the head. Otherwise the severed body can still reach you and the head can bite,” I say quietly. “Perhaps you’d better put your shoes on,” Tanja interjects sensibly. Georg stands there with his shovel in his hand, indecisive and seems to be thinking. “Maybe she’s not poisonous? Anyway, you’re the boss and you have to decide,” I whisper as the shovel swoops down and separates her head from her torso.

Breathing a sigh of relief, we look at the finger-thin snake, which is about 70 centimeters long. Even after a closer examination, we are not sure whether it is one of the most venomous snakes in the world or not. We turn our backs on her and go back into the kitchen. We talk for a long time about what’s happening in the world until it’s time to go to our comfortable bed for the night.

The days here at Westerton pass quickly. We are only slowly beginning to digest the news. Our head becomes clearer again. We set about repairing Jafar’s saddle, moving some equipment and studying the map for the next 200 kilometers. Our shaken feelings begin to recover. Life goes on and a glow of joy and energy beckons us on the horizon. Our thirst for adventure comes back to life and we start to look forward to tackling the last 1000 kilometers to the east coast. There is no doubt that there is still a challenge or two waiting for us out there. Above all, the question remains: how do we get our train of life through a country where cattle are dying by the thousands?