Dark rain clouds sever connection to the outside world
Day: 29
Sunrise:
7:04
Sunset:
17:16
Bad weather camp – 09.06.2000
Raindrops are drumming wildly on our tent canvas and strong gusts of wind are making it rattle alarmingly. Tired, with aching bones, I slowly open my eyes. I don’t feel the slightest desire to leave the comfortably warm sleeping bag, but today is Friday and it won’t be long before the first radio station calls on the satellite phone. “I have to get out,” I say to Tanja, who would also prefer to stay lying down.
Before I prepare the interviews, we have to look after our camels. We quickly untie the guardian ropes from the trees to which we tied the animals last night. Hasty and very hungry, they hurry to the nearby lush, endless pasture. The wind whips the cold raindrops into our faces. Hardie’s whole body is shivering with cold. Even his thick winter coat doesn’t seem to protect him enough. Before our eyes lies a treeless land as far as we can see. Dark, menacing-looking rain clouds rise to endless heights. They race wildly over our heads, showering us with the unpleasant wetness. The barometer on my watch reads low and promises more bad weather.
After the camels have eaten enough, we hurry back to the camp site and tie the animals to a tree. While Tanja lights the fire, I set up another small tent where I can write the update of our website and give the interviews. It looks like a circus tent with room for just two chairs and a few pieces of equipment. It actually reminds me of a mushroom whose center is supported by an extendable tent pole. It has no floor and is open on all sides at the bottom, so that the strong wind blows through and freezes my feet to ice.
Although I could imagine a better place to do all my work, this thin roof is better than nothing. Above all, it is impossible to give interviews outdoors in this strong wind. On the other side of the line, you couldn’t understand anything because of the noise. I’m also sitting here now writing these lines and despite my cold feet, at least I’m not getting wet. The laptop’s battery is pleasantly hot and warms my thighs. It’s strange how quickly you can reduce your needs and be happy about little things.
When the RTR radio station calls, the wind has soon reached gale force. The connection with the satellite phone is amazingly poor. Everything the presenter says arrives with a considerable time delay. “What did they say? I see! Yes, the connection is bad! It’s storming here!” I shout into the receiver and hope that the man on the other side understands me. “We… check if… the connection is good….. enough… to… go… on… air!”, I think I can understand, interrupted by the rattling of the tent canvas. I wait anxiously and listen excitedly into the machine. Suddenly I hear music that suddenly changes into a kind of Mikey mouse yowling. Some voices now join in with the music-like noises and I start swearing at the supposedly good technology. “Okay Denis… we’ll try!” the distorted voice snaps me back to reality.
Since I hardly understand the man’s questions on the other side, I just start talking and hope to give the right answers. Apparently it must work quite well, because we only say goodbye to each other after about 10 minutes. “Well, Denis, see you next Friday at the same time,” the friendly man says goodbye and I hang up the phone, relieved. The interview with some ABC stations and the German broadcasters also run under similar conditions.
At 5 p.m. I turn on the HF radio to contact Jo and Tom as agreed. I can hardly believe it when this connection also drops after a few minutes. I search desperately for the cause. I check the alignment of the antenna. Compare our position with the map again and can’t find any errors.
“What’s wrong?” asks Tanja when she hears me scolding. “Oh, the contact with Tom has broken off and I think our Flying Doctor radio is on the blink!” I reply angrily. Suddenly a light comes on and I check the 12-volt battery. The meter only shows 8 volts. Relieved to have found the fault, I charge the radio battery overnight with our large base battery.