The bridge in Rockhampton

Day: 262 Stage three / total expedition days 653

Sunrise:
05:37

Sunset:
18:45

As the crow flies:
11,3

Daily kilometers:
25

Total kilometers:
6922 km

Temperature - Day (maximum):
37° degrees, sun approx. 55°

Temperature - Night:
21°

Latitude:
23°19'45.6"

Longitude:
150°29'54.3"

Rocky-Camp – 02.02.2003

As on every running day, we get up at 3:00 am. We pack everything up without having breakfast. Before we fetch Hardie, we look for Sebastian to put the tablets wrapped in white bread in his mouth. “Come on Sebastian, the doctor said the pills are good for you. Now swallow your medicine at last,’ I whisper quietly and cover his lips so that he doesn’t just spit the pills out again. Sebastian’s tongue pushes forward incessantly to get rid of the apparently awful-tasting medicine. It takes a long time for him to swallow the stuff. Satisfied, we now get to work. Tanja fetches the sleepy Hardie. As so often, she hums him a little song. “Come on Hardie, sit down. Oh, you’re tired. Have you been dreaming of naked camel girls again? Hardie, Hardie. Well, I can understand you. It’s an exhausting life. But I’ve got good news for you. Just three more days and you’ll all have made it. Then you can relax and take a vacation. And another piece of good news. You can be the leader for the last few kilometers. I’m sure you won’t let us down Hardie. You’re a brave boy,’ she chats, humming as I brush his fur.

It is still pitch dark when we load Jafar and Istan. Everyone is nervous after the long break. They keep turning back to their leader Sebastian. Edgar and Jasper also drop by. “Do you want to come with us?” I ask them. “Edgar turns his big head towards me and wants to be cuddled. “No Edgar, we don’t have time for that now. We’re just brushing the workers,’ I say and lead him away a little.

“Camis epna!” I shout a little later, and Hardie, Jafar and Istan jump up. “Camis walk up!” The next command pierces the darkness and the little train starts to move. Sebastian looks after us sadly and Edgar and Jasper follow us a few steps behind. “We’ll be back soon!” Tanja calls to them as she closes the gate to the enclosure. Then we follow the narrow, black asphalt strip. Our headlamps cast a small cone of light onto the road. Hardie is nervous. He runs much faster than usual. I keep his lead and nose leash as short as possible so that he doesn’t get on my heels. “It’s all right Hardie. You don’t need to be nervous. You’re in charge today. At the end of the day, it’s no different than usual,” I say to him reassuringly. The cone of light dances up and down in front of me. My thoughts are racing through my brain. Now we are actually on the last few kilometers of a gigantic expedition. An expedition that took 4 ½ years to prepare. Nervousness rises in me. Will everything go well? The last few years have shown us how quickly unforeseen events can throw the best-laid plans out of kilter in a matter of seconds. Will the police be on time? Another thought sends a wave of heat through my body. Hardie presses his big neck against my neck. He looks nervously from right to left. Very slowly, more and more light blends into the darkness. A few cattle jump away excitedly. “I think they’re getting calmer,” says Tanja, who is walking alongside the loaded animals. Rufus whines and barks from time to time. Birds flutter from the half-dead trees that stretch their withered skeletons into the dim light. Another day begins. A day that is no different from the others, except that it accompanies our finish line run.

When we reach the outskirts of Rockhampton two hours later, the sun has already risen. Storm clouds cover them. The temperatures are pleasant. Cyclists come towards us. “Welcome to Rockhampton! Good on you! Great performance! We all hope you make it!” they shout, laughing and waving as they drive past us. Hardie, Jafar and Istan have calmed down completely in the meantime. At the moment, they don’t seem to miss their comrades. Cars drive past us from time to time. It is 7:00 a.m. when we are just one kilometer away from the bridge. “We’re too early. Didn’t think we’d be here so soon. We should wait there for the police,” I say, pointing to a wide grass verge next to the road. As soon as I have stopped the camels, a police car appears. “Good morning!” the officers call in a friendly manner. “That must be our escort,” I realize, hand Tanja the lead line and walk towards the police car. We introduce ourselves to each other in a short conversation. “The TV and press want to be at the bridge at 7:30. Is it possible to wait here for another 20 minutes?” I ask. “But of course mate. We’ll be back in 15 minutes,” replies one of the two policemen.

The police vehicle reappears on time. I briefly explain our route to the bridge to the two patrolmen and off we go. We are now rapidly approaching the increasingly heavy traffic. Hardie, Jafar and Istan are not worried by the passing cars. “There’s the traffic lights up ahead,” calls Tanja. “Yes, we’re about to go onto the bridge,” I reply, feeling the excitement growing. A man is lying on the street in front of us. At first I think of a drunk, but as we get closer I recognize the photographer Mark Straker from the Morning Bulletin. He takes pictures of the caravan. Meanwhile, the traffic is considerable. Due to the police car driving behind us, the vehicles have to overtake us in a wide arc. At the traffic lights, we turn left onto the new large bridge. We hurry along the huge structure that spans the Fitzroy River. Now we are high above the mighty river. Looking to the west, I can see another bridge on which a train is crossing the water. On the eastern side, the old two-lane bridge stretches across the Fitzroy. Below us, many small boats bob in the shiny water. As the river flows directly into the Pacific Ocean not far from here, its waters are also home to sharks and saltwater crocodiles.

More and more vehicles and motorcycles pile up behind our camels. When I take a look behind me, I see the driver’s cab of a road train. We walk as fast as we can so as not to hold up the traffic for too long. Hardie makes a fantastic guide. He doesn’t shy away and follows me without a murmur. The others also behave great. A heavy concrete barrier keeps the heavy oncoming traffic away from us.

As I’m walking in the left-hand lane, the road train suddenly starts to overtake. “For God’s sake! There’s no way he’s allowed to pass!” I shout to Tanja, who is busy taking photos. As the road train’s engine howls and it actually tries to squeeze past us with its oversized dimensions, Istan goes through. He races to the front and pins Jafar. I can only hold Hardie back with great difficulty. Together we run across the tarmac. Stop him! You have to stop him!” I shout to Tanja. Tanja jumps onto the overtaking lane and blocks the truck driver’s progress with her body. At the same time, I pull the over-excited animals into the middle of the two lanes. Overtaking is now impossible. The police, who are following us in the normal lane, have probably hardly noticed the impending stampede. The Roadtrain’s engine immediately becomes quieter again. We have now been driving on the long bridge for almost 10 minutes. At the end, a crash barrier prevents us from leaving the lane. Finally it clears the way. As soon as I’ve pulled the camels onto the hard shoulder, the avalanche of traffic unloads behind us. Like biting hornets, the cars crash past us. Exhaust fumes cover us. Tanja and I look at each other, laughing. Our elation seems to explode. We have made it. We have survived the biggest traffic obstacle without any damage. The police car pulls up next to us. “Thank you very much!” we shout. we shout, “You’re welcome. It was fun for us. It was something different!” the nice officers reply and drive off.

Mark interviews us at the roadside. His girlfriend Luise, with whom we have already done several ABC radio interviews, is also there. We tell her the story of Sebastian. “I’ll pick you up this afternoon if you want.” “That’s a fantastic idea. That way we can give him his medicine,” I reply. After we have explained to her where we will set up camp, we say goodbye to the two of them. As soon as her car has disappeared, we discover the Win-TV cameraman. “I was just in the shower when I heard on the police radio that you had already crossed the bridge. If you don’t mind, I’ll film now?” “Film as much as you like,” we reply in high spirits.

Since we left the bridge behind us, we have been on side roads. We are making good progress. Some of the drivers stop to ask us a few questions or take pictures. We laugh into the cameras and feel great.

We reach our destination for the day at 10:30 after 25 kilometers of running. It is the first farm on the outskirts of the city. We have already visited the owners during our reconnaissance trip. They are happy to provide us with a pasture for the night. Sharon and her son visit us as soon as we arrive at the camp and watch us unload. We also tell her the story of Sebastian’s illness. “If you want, you can take one of our cars,” offers Sharon. “Oh, thank you so much,” I say happily.

I call Luise from her house and explain that she now has a ride. In the meantime, Sharon prepares real coffee and a delicious salad for us. She brings everything down to the camp, which is located just a few meters from a beautiful lagoon. “If you want, you can refresh yourselves in our swimming pool by the house.” “Thank you, but we can’t leave the camels alone. We’ll be happy to visit you after the expedition. Then we would appreciate this invitation,” Tanja replies. “But surely you want a shower?” “During our expedition, it was not unusual not to see a shower for six weeks. Although we like showering, it’s not so important today. We really don’t want to leave our boys alone,” I reply. “What do you say we have a barbecue at our place? You can also sleep in our house. In a real bed,” Sharon doesn’t give up trying to do us a favor. Again we decline, whereupon she decides to organize the barbecue evening at our camp.

SEBASTIAN IS DYING

By now it’s already afternoon. I use the time to drive to Sebastian. On the way over the bridge, I think about having crossed it with our camels just a short while ago. It’s all in the past again, I think. As I stop next to the tree in whose shade Sebastian has been dozing for the last few days, I get a huge fright. Our lead camel lies flat on the ground. Even its head lies on the ground, which camels usually only do for a short time. In this case, something is wrong. My body is boiling hot. He won’t have died, will he? “Sebastian! My God Sebastian!” I shout, rushing towards the enclosure. When he doesn’t react, an iron hand chokes me. I stumble and see the images of Goola’s death flash before my inner eye. Excited, I weave my body through the barbed wire fence as Sebastian spots me and lifts his head. “Uuuhhh, you scared me,” I say with relief. I pat his head and look at his sunken eyes. He desperately tries to sit up, but doesn’t seem to have enough strength to do so. Only after the fifth attempt does he make it. ‘You don’t look well at all,’ I say quietly. Devastated, I stand in front of him and don’t know what to do. Unless a miracle happens, he will not survive the night. I stand there and ponder. The injections have really done him good. It was only when we started the stomach ulcer tablets that his condition deteriorated drastically. The vet advised him to keep giving the pills, even without water… “That must be it!” I exclaim. It is the lack of water in combination with the strong tablets. It is probably a type of antibiotic and when taking antibiotics you are advised to drink plenty of water. I can well remember how badly we fared in Nepal when we took strong antibiotics to treat dysentery. Tanja and I staggered around like drunks for days. “Don’t give up Sebastian. We won’t force any more pills down your throat. I’ll drive back quickly and get Tanja. Then we’ll pump 20 liters of water down your throat. That will help you. Don’t give up now. You mustn’t die. Do you hear me? We simply won’t let you die. Your time is not up yet. I know that. Nobody walks 7000 kilometers across this continent just to die,’ I tell him. Then I sprint back to the car.

30 minutes later I find myself in the camel camp. I quickly explain the situation to Tanja and just five minutes later we are on our way to Sebastian. When we reach him, he is lying on the ground again. He sits up with great effort. We fill 10 liters of rainwater into a bucket. Then I put a thin tube in his mouth with a hand pump attached to it. There is a hose on the hand pump that we hang in the bucket. In this way we now pump the liquid into his mouth in 20 milliliter portions. Sebastian is too weak to fight back. Thank goodness he still has enough strength to swallow the liquid. It takes us 30 minutes to give him 20 liters of water. “That should be enough,” I say with satisfaction. “He’s definitely not going to die,” Tanja says confidently. ‘I hope he holds out until his stomach starts working again,’ I reply.

Another half hour later we reach our camp again. We are completely exhausted and barely able to speak when suddenly at least 10 adults and as many children appear. “Hello, nice to see you! Did you really walk all over Australia? What were your most dangerous moments? How long was the longest time without a shower? What, you sleep in that little thing over there? How do you do it with sex? Do you still have the strength? Did a lot of snakes crawl across your path? How did you survive the drought? What do you eat out there? How do you manage your relationship when you’re together 24 hours a day? Can I have your autograph? What is the name of your mascot? Can I sit on Hardie?” the questions from the children and adults come thick and fast. We try to answer all questions as best we can. We lift each child in turn onto the back of Hardie, who enjoys being the center of attention. The people are very nice to us. The grill is on the loading area of a Ute. People drink and laugh. Despite our tiredness, we have a great evening. We don’t crawl into our mosquito tent until 21:00. We lie exhausted on our sleeping mats. Many thoughts run through our heads until we finally fall asleep.