Our psyche falls to its knees with the final strokes

Day: 172 Stage three / total expedition days 563

Sunrise:
05:34

Sunset:
18:38

As the crow flies:
15,7

Daily kilometers:
20

Total kilometers:
5771 Km

Temperature - Day (maximum):
41° degrees, in the sun approx. 63°

Temperature - Night:
19° degrees

Latitude:
23°18'28.1"

Longitude:
144°22'24.5"

Bimbah-Camp – 04.11.2002

Our train moves sluggishly in a north-easterly direction. We follow the narrow, barely used asphalt strip which disappears after about 10 kilometers. Some grids force us to open the nearby gates to get over the many fences. A jeep stops next to us. “Can we take a few pictures of you?” “Sure, as many as you like,” we reply and stand in front of Sebastian, as we have done hundreds of times in recent years. “We’re from the coast. Only here for a few days. I hunt pigs.” “Oh, that’s why there are so many dogs on your car,” I interrupt him. “Yes, they help me with the hunt. It’s a good change.” “Have fun then,” I say, say goodbye and lead our boys on.

HAPPY ENCOUNTER

Only a little later, another jeep comes towards us. As soon as the driver recognizes what is running towards him, he stops immediately. A smiling face appears behind the windshield. The door opens and a man jumps out. “I’ve seen a lot in my life, but this is the first time I’ve come across something like this,” he chats, laughing as he walks towards us. “My name is Rowley Deane,” he introduces himself and offers us his hand. “This is Tanja and my name is Denis. We’re from Perth and have been traveling on foot for 2 ½ years. We’ll soon have 6000 kilometers behind us and we’re exhausted,” I say by way of explanation and try to smile as much as I can. “6000 kilometers! No wonder you’re tired. What’s your next destination?” “We want to ask the inhabitants of Bimbah Station if we can set up camp near the homestead. Where are you from anyway?” “Oh, I’m from Bimbah. The homestead is just over there. Can you see the rooftops peeking through the trees?” he asks, pointing ahead. “That’s wonderful. What a coincidence. Can we rest on your land for a few days?” “But of course. With pleasure. What do your camels need?” “Oh, if they can run around in a well-fenced enclosure and have something to drink, they’re more than happy.” “No problem. This enclosure here is about 1 × 2 kilometers. A good fence will keep them from leaving the area. There’s still plenty to eat here. This area hasn’t been affected by the drought yet.” “Well, you’re in luck. We’d like to accept the offer and give our animals a few days’ rest here. Is there a place for us? I mean somewhere shady?” “Yes, you’ll find plenty of shade at the dam. I cleared a few trees out of the way with the clearing machine a few weeks ago. So you’ll also have plenty of firewood.” “Wonderful,” we say happily and can hardly believe we’ve bumped into the owner of the station where we want to go.

Rowley drives ahead to open the gate just 200 meters away from us. He’s waiting for us next to the gate. “I’m off to the Homestead to inform my wife Jenny of your arrival. I’ve got a meeting to attend in Longreach myself. I’ll see you later,” he says and rushes off. We lead our caravan the long way to the farmhouse. As soon as we reach it, a smiling woman comes towards us. Hello, my name is Jenny,” she introduces herself. We chat for a while and talk about our trip. “Why do you want to camp at the dam? If you want, you are welcome to sleep in an air-conditioned room. At least you’ll have peace and quiet and, above all, pleasantly cool nights.” Tanja and I think we’ve heard wrong. The offer exceeds our wishes at this moment. “We’d love to move into this room. Thank you very much,” we accept your offer. “I don’t want to be rude, but I have to get going. I’m going away for a few days. It’s a shame not to see you when I get back. I really would have liked to talk to you a bit longer.” “When will you be home again?” I ask. “On Friday.” “We’ll definitely still be here on Friday. We urgently need a rest to replenish our energy tanks.” “That’s fantastic. Well then, I’ll show you the way to the dam. You can unload your equipment there. Rowley will come later to pick you up from there,” she suggests and accompanies us a few more meters. When Jenny has said goodbye to us, we follow her directions. We scurry down our boys at the dam. With the last of my strength, I heave the equipment out of the saddlebags. By now the midday sun is beating down on our heads. I’m on the verge of seeing spinning tops. Together we heave the 50-kilogram saddles off the camels’ backs and let them eat from the nearby trees.

BITING PAIN & LIGHTNING IN THE HEAD

“We should still treat Istan, I think. “That’s a good idea,” Tanja replies and strokes his head. As I do every day after unloading, I open the can of cream, put on a disposable rubber glove and examine Istan’s wound. Thank God his penis is not swollen. However, another small ulcer-like lump has formed right next to it. I carefully feel the thing to see if the pus inside will soon empty. So that I can feel Istan’s every move in time, I step lightly on his big toes with my foot. This way I’m close enough to him that a possible kick can’t do as much damage. “The place where the pus used to come out has grown over,” I explain to Tanja, who is still stroking Istan’s head to distract him from my examination.

Once again I press lightly on the ulcer as a powerful blow that can hardly be described in words hits my shins. Before I can react, before I can even begin to think a thought, I fly headfirst, face first, into the hot earth. It flashes in my head. Dull pain surges through my body like a wave. “Oh God! Denis! Deniiis! Are you all right?” Tanja’s voice wobbles through my brain. The pain changes to a biting pain. I’m still lying there motionless and don’t really know what’s happened. Everything happens so quickly, in a matter of seconds. Time seems to be racing, the pain constantly changing. “Denis! Deniiis!” I hear it again in my muffled voice. A fraction of a moment later, I realize that Istan has torn me off my feet with a brutal blow from his hind foot. My thoughts form again and I hear myself answer: “I’m all right. I don’t think anything is broken. I’m okay.” With my face still in the hot earth, I hardly dare to move. Tears run down my cheeks. My whole body is shaken with pain. It is not only physical pain but also mental pain. The stresses of the last few months have used this terrible accident as an opportunity to break out of me.

“Come on Denis, you have to get out of here. Can you get up?” I hear Tanja’s worried voice again. Her hands clasp my trembling back. I also feel their pain, their suffering, which rears up at the same moment. “Yes, yes, I think I can get up,” I reply in a broken voice, pulling myself up onto my arms and knees. With Tanja’s help, I hobble into the shade of the trees. Like a heap of misery, I then settle back down on the ground. “Where did he get you?” “On the shins and the left knee.” “Can you tell if he hurt you worse?” “I think I was lucky. At least nothing is broken.” “Are you in a lot of pain?” “I’m fine. It’s subsiding. On a scale of one to ten, the pain is only four,” I whisper, sobbing. “Good, that’s good.” “Has something happened to your knee?” “It hurts, but I don’t think I’ve torn any ligaments,” I reply to Tanja. With her questions, she quickly gets an idea of my mental and physical condition. She reacts exactly as we learned in one of our first aid courses.

Only minutes later Tanja asks me to stand up. “We have to lead the camels to the dam to water them. Otherwise they’ll run away,” she says. “Okay,” I reply meekly, rising ponderously and limping after her. My left knee has a little difficulty with the first few steps, but after a while the joints move almost normally again. “Come on! Come on!” Tanja shouts to lure our boys over the earth wall of the dam. As soon as they see the water, they are unstoppable and fill their bellies as usual.

Then we sit down again in the shade of the trees, where black parrots sit in the crowns and squawk loudly. The heat lies over the land like a billowing wall. “He didn’t mean any harm. I probably pressed too hard on the swelling. That hurt him,’ I mumble tiredly. “No reason to want to smash your legs.” “Right.” “You’ve been very lucky.” “You could say that. Could have been the end of this and all future journeys. If I’d been standing any other way, the blow would have shattered both my knees. A terrible thought.” “I still feel quite sick now,” Tanja replies quietly.

We sit there in silence for a few minutes. My thoughts mingle with the squawking of the parrots. My head is pounding again and the ball of thoughts seems to be getting even tighter. There is no doubt that we have gone too far. We covered 243 kilometers in nine days and left Westerton Station without being properly rested. I seem to be making more and more mistakes. It’s a vicious circle. When the energy level drops, wrong decisions are automatically made. But on the other hand, a lot of unexpected things have also happened. However, our expedition is in a delicate state. It is interesting to note that it is not our physical bodies that are at the end, but our spirit. Our psyche went to its knees with the final blows, just like in a boxing match. At this point, it is a mystery to me how we can save ourselves from this low.

We have not yet digested the incident when Rowley turns up to drive our equipment to the homestead. “I think it would be a good idea if we took the camels to the enclosure next to the homestead. You’ll then have the opportunity to see them from the house,” he offers, whereupon we decide that Tanja will take them there. In the meantime, I load the equipment onto Rowley’s Ute. When the loading area of the jeep is full to the brim, we drive everything back to the farmhouse. Tanja and I take the hobbles and halters off our boys. Now, for the first time since the departure from New Haven, they are allowed to roam free. They walk away without turning around. They quench their thirst at a water trough, only to settle down under a spreading tree in the shade shortly afterwards.

WE PLUNGE INTO THE CENTER OF AN OASIS

“This is your room. Make yourselves at home,” says Rowley, opening the door to a beautiful room. Two wall cupboards, two large beds, a bedside table and air conditioning promise us a pleasant stay. “I’ll show you the kitchen,” he continues. An approximately 12-meter-long corridor flooded with sunlight leads around an inner courtyard overgrown with lush plants. The walls of the 400 square meter house are also interrupted by huge windows that give the residents a fantastic view of the eternity of the land. The bushes and shrubs in the gardens are kept extra low so that nothing can obstruct this expansive view.

On the way to the kitchen, we pass a spacious billiard room. Pictures hanging on the wall show people from the past century. Behind a glass wall, I catch a glimpse of another room where a table tennis table invites me to play. Behind it is the so-called living room with a floor area of approx. 100 square meters. An open fireplace, a valuable antique German C. Bechstein grand piano, tasteful furniture, pictures, paintings and a wood-paneled ceiling adorn the stately room.

“Here is the kitchen. There’s the fridge. Take what you want. I’m sure you’ll find something you like in the cupboards. Unfortunately, I have to leave you alone now. I have another meeting. I’ll be back at 18:00. Get some rest. Take a shower and get a good night’s sleep. As I said, make yourselves at home,’ says our host and bids us farewell with an open smile.

As if we are in another world, we are sitting in a cozy room next to the living room. As so often, we cannot believe what has just happened. Only half an hour ago we were suffering in the hot sun, I was almost crippled and suddenly we find ourselves in the stately home. The air conditioning hums quietly and the pleasant temperature allows us to breathe deeply and with relief. We look at each other in silence and it just won’t enter our heads. The contrasting program is indeed stunning. We were just about to crash, fell into a deep hole and as if miracles really do happen, we landed in an oasis. “It’s hard to believe the trust these people have in us,” says Tanja. “As if they’ve known us for many years,” I reply. “Really strange.” “Hm, you can’t compare city dwellers with country dwellers. They’re always afraid of being robbed, stolen or abused. There’s no theft out here. The world still seems to be in order here. Rowley and his wife Jenny are not afraid of us taking anything from them. They’ve seen us and judged us correctly,’ I say quietly, looking around slowly.

MELBOURNE CUP, THE BIGGEST HORSE RACE ON EARTH

The sun has already set when our host reappears. “Would you like to go into town with me? I’m going horse betting with a friend. Tomorrow is a big day in Australia. You’ve probably heard of the Melbourne Cup? It’s one of the biggest horse races on earth. Almost the whole nation will spend the day behind a screen or betting on horses,” he explains. We are far too excited to go to bed early and spontaneously decide to accompany Rowley.

Showered and dressed in freshly laundered clothes, we sit in the jeep a little later and drive to Longreach. As if we were traveling in a time machine, we then enter a club. We are greeted by hectic activity, a babble of voices, music, lots of people and cigarette smoke. Commercials flicker across some screens. Now really confused, I walk uncertainly through all the people. We sit down at a round bar table and drink our first beer in a long time. Rowley introduces us to some friends. Some people know us from the radio interviews and address us by our names. I try to hide my uncertainty and answer the questions. “What running 6000 kilometers? That wouldn’t be for me. I’m glad God gave me two feet. One for accelerating and one for clutching! Ha, ha, ha, ha,” laughs the man and runs on.

Suddenly the betting program begins. An auctioneer begins to auction off the individual horses taking part in tomorrow’s race. Anyone here can buy one of these horses. Of course, he doesn’t own the horse, but if it wins, he gets a share of the prize money. “Media Puzzle! 500 dollars for Media Puzzle. Who bids more? 550,- Dollar! 550,- Dollar for Media Puzzle! Who….! 750,- Dollar for Media Puzzle! Who bids more? 850 dollars! 900 dollars! 950! 950! 1000 dollars for Media Puzzle! 1000 dollars for Media Puzzle! 1000 dollars for the first! 1000 dollars for the second! One more chance! All right, 1000 dollars to the third! The gentleman in the back gets Media Puzzle for 1000 dollars!” shouts the auctioneer’s frantic voice. It only takes seconds for Beekeeper to be sold, then Distinctive Secret. A total of 24 horses take part in the race and are auctioned off in each city.

Tanja and I watch this spectacle spellbound. Our heads are spinning. We are overloaded. The washing machine of thoughts spins, spins incessantly, but we have a lot of fun this evening. We don’t reach Bimbah Station again until 22:30. “What does bimbah mean?” I ask Rowley. “Bimbah is an Aboriginal word and means big fish.” “Big fish? The name probably comes from the fact that you can catch big fish here on the Thomson River?” “Probably,” Rowley replies as he parks his Toyota under the canopy.

Half-paralyzed with fatigue, we fall onto the pleasantly hard mattress. The cold air from the air conditioning gives us only minutes before our overtaxed bodies take refuge in a deep sleep.