The eerie-looking narrow corridor
Temperature - Day (maximum):
approx. 32 degrees
Anna Plains Station – 30.04.2001
There’s a knock on the door at 7 o’clock. It’s Luke. “I just wanted to tell you quickly that I’m going to help you get the other camels despite my dismissal,” he says. I’ve spoken to John and he doesn’t mind. If it’s all right with you, we can set off in an hour.” As so often on this journey, we are relieved. Our emotions are up and down, but that is an essential part of such undertakings.
Before we set off again, we have a quick chat with John. As always, he is extremely friendly and lovable. As he is flying to Jakarta for a week to sell his cattle, he gives Tanja all his fresh salad from the fridge. “It would spoil in my absence. I think you could make good use of it,” he says with a friendly laugh. We say goodbye to our host and head back to the Rockies. Luke and I rebuild the moving gates and make sure that the two newcomers and Hardie don’t have much room to hide in a corner. Then I climb over the fence, grab Hardie by the halter, but before I know it he pulls his head away and hides between the two newcomers. Hardie has often caused us problems, especially when he has had a taste of freedom for a while. Just a few weeks before we reached the Indian Ocean on the last leg of our journey, he simply left. Only with a lot of tricks and even more patience were we able to catch him again. “Oh Hardie, of course you want to play an extra sausage again,” I curse quietly. Then I take a rope, simply throw it over his neck and as he knows that from this moment on it is only a matter of time before I grab him by the halter, he immediately gives up and stretches his hairy head towards me. I click in the lead line, attach the nose line to his nose peg and lead him onto the trailer. Hardie follows me as if he were invited to the big breakfast buffet. As we can’t put the two wild camels down, we decide to leave Hardie behind as well. Normally it is better if camels are transported sitting down, but in this case we have no other option than to transport them standing up.
Luke, Tanja and I now try to get the two newcomers to walk onto the trailer by themselves. We push the moving gates even closer together, leaving them with no choice but to flee forwards. They quickly realize that nothing will happen to their buddy Hardie on the trailer and climb into the vehicle as if they did it every day. “Quick, let’s close the loading ramp before they change their minds!” Luke shouts. We climb over the gate and lift the heavy iron gate. Luke places the bolt over it and the three are trapped. “That was much easier than I thought,” I cheer, patting Luke on the back. “Since they’re already trapped in such a small space, why don’t we try putting the halters on them right away,” I suggest. “Okay,” Luke replies and climbs onto the lattice frame of the trailer. While I keep them away from my side just by my presence, Luke catches the head of one of them with the lasso. He pulls the nervous animal slightly towards him, but as soon as he notices the halter Luke is holding in his free hand, he opens his eyes and pulls his head back. After half an hour we give up and decide not to start this work until the camels have had two days to get used to their new home on Anna Plains.
The return journey is problem-free this time. Again, Hardie and the two newcomers are quickly unloaded. Proud of our animals, we now stand at the paddock and watch them get back together and sniff each other. John Stoat has given us the best possible opportunities to train our animals and prepare them for the long trip. In addition to two large, completely separate paddocks in very good condition, there are five other smaller fences that we will probably hardly use. The perfect thing about the large paddocks is that they are connected by a corridor that is only one meter wide and about 2 ½ meters high for at least eight meters. “We’ll feed the camels in the left-hand paddock by the barn and use the other one as a training and leisure enclosure. If they want to eat, they have to go through the narrow corridor,” I chatter to myself. Tanja nods. “Do you think they’ll walk through it?” “Definitely, food drives them through everywhere.”
Our plan now is to give the animals two days to get used to their new surroundings and gain confidence. Then, when they realize that nothing is happening to them and they wander back and forth through the connecting corridor, we will wait for one of the new ones to walk through. Since the person who once built these horse fences obviously knew his job, there is a gate on one side of the passageway and the other side can be blocked with round beams. “We just have to be quick, then it’s no problem at all to catch one of the new ones there. He can’t turn in there. He only has the option of running forward a few meters or going backwards. That’s our moment to put the halter on him. What do you think?” I ask Tanja. “Good idea. That could work,’ she replies and looks at the corridor, which looks like a lock from gate to gate to me.
Later, I start to put my idea into practice and put hay in the enclosure next to the barn. Our animals are actually in the leisure and training paddock at this time. “Tuckertiiime! Tuckertiiime! Tuckertiiime!” we shout and it only takes moments for Istan to run through the narrow passageway into the dining room. As always, Sebastian is terrified of the narrow corridor and stops in front of it. I take a lead line and pull him through slowly and calmly. Goola, Jafar and Hardie follow their comrades, only the two newcomers stand there and look at the passageway with wide skeptical eyes. In the meantime, the others munch on the delicious hay. The newcomers keep peering through the wooden beams. It takes 1 ½ hours when one of them decides that it is more important to give in to a growling stomach than to starve to death from fear. He cautiously ventures through the airlock. When he reaches the middle, he gets scared and races the remaining meters at a gallop, but he makes it through. He now also runs quickly to the food bowl. A little later, the other feels alone and plucks up all his courage to take on the great adventure of running through what looks to him like a terrible bottleneck. The survival instinct has won out. Tanja and I clap our hands triumphantly and are sure that we will be able to train the two newcomers to become high-quality expedition partners. “What do you think about calling the darker of the two, who resembles Istan, Jasper and the other one Edgar?” Tanja asks me as we sit on the fence and watch our 7 boys eat. “They’re nice names, but how did you come up with Edgar?” Well, they come from the Mount Edgar area, so I thought that Edgar always reminds us where he comes from. “Hmm, a good idea,” I reply and look towards the glowing red, oversized ball of sunlight that is just setting over the Indian Ocean.
