The moment in which future and past play no role

Day: 264 Stage three / total expedition days 655

Sunrise:
05:37

Sunset:
18:44

As the crow flies:
20

Daily kilometers:
30

Total kilometers:
6980 km

Temperature - Day (maximum):
26° degrees, sun about 30°

Temperature - Night:
20°

Latitude:
23°15'18.0"

Longitude:
150°49'43.4"

Pacific Ocean – 04.02.2003

We are in a deep sleep when we are woken up by an unpleasant wetness. “It’s raining,” I groan and look at my watch. “One more hour, then we’re off,” I whisper and crawl out of the mosquito tent into the drizzle. A strong wind blows around my ears and makes the tent flap loudly. It takes me some effort to pull the rain cover over our inner tent. Then I slip back into our little fabric house where we’ve spent most of the nights over the last four years. Although I’m wet now, I fall asleep again straight away.

Beep, beep, beep, we are woken up by our wristwatches just an hour later. “Today is the last time we get up to load our camels,” says Tanja cheerfully. ‘Yes, it’s hard to believe,’ I reply sleepily. “How are you feeling?” “Not much different than usual. It’ll be a while before I really realize that I’ve made it.” “That’s right,” she agrees and leaves the tent.

For the first time in over 3000 kilometers we load the camels in the rain. Although it is unpleasant, we are happy about it because the country needs it more than anything else. Mike arrives on time to film the departure. We start the last day of the longest expedition in Australian history with ever-increasing euphoria. Only 25 kilometers separate us from this long-awaited destination. “Camis walk up!” I order and our three comrades set off. When we reach the road, it stops raining briefly. Everything is wet and the asphalt is as slippery as ice. We walk carefully along the side of the road, making sure that none of the camels slip and injure themselves over the last few kilometers.

At 7:30 a.m. we reach the main road that leads us to the small coastal town of Emu Park. Traffic is increasing rapidly. Cars honk their horns and their occupants shout their congratulations. Every now and then we are overtaken. A car races past the overhanging saddlebags at a distance of just a few centimeters. Hardie, Jafar and Istan are frightened, but quickly calm down again. They work like robots and prove to be perfect partners even on the last day. Steve Martin, the presenter from ABC Radio West Queensland, with whom I have been conducting interviews about our expedition for over a year, is walking next to us with a recording device. “How are you feeling Denis?” I hear his familiar, sympathetic voice. “I can hardly categorize my feelings at the moment. They are increasing by the minute. It’s as if more and more emotions are building up, as if my body is a pressure cooker that’s about to have the lid ripped off its head. We’re not there yet Steve. Something could always come up. To be honest, the tension inside me is almost unbearable. But on the other hand, I feel great. So great that I’d love to dance the last few kilometers to the Pacific.” Steve asks me several more questions until he seeks out Tanja, who is walking at the end of the caravan, to warn me about the approaching traffic. I would have loved to hear Tanja’s answers to his questions. I would love to share this moment with her, but we must not neglect our attention even just before the finish line.

A few kilometers before Emu Park, Sharon appears. “You can do it! Great!” she calls out to us from her car, laughing. The rain gets heavier and heavier until it pours down like buckets. We learn that Cyclone Benni is wreaking havoc off the coast. Its foothills bring heavy rain. Gusts of wind blow in our faces. The streets turn into streams. When we reach the Emu Park golf course, we are invited to eat in the clubhouse. “Thank you very much, but we have to get to the beach before it starts raining even more,” we reply.

PEOPLE CLATCHING AND CELEBRATE

The tension increases. We are only two kilometers from the sea. We enter the outskirts of the coastal town. People come out of the stores. They line the street and clap. “That’s for us,” I say to Tanja, who has now come to the front. We laugh and I feel like my heart is going to burst. We are just leaving the caravan park behind us. A woman comes running out. “Did you get my email?” she asks. “Sorry, we haven’t had much opportunity to call them up in the last few weeks,” I reply. “I have invited you. You can stay at our caravan park for as long as you like. Your camels are also very welcome,” says the woman. “That’s a very generous offer,” we reply and explain that we are already staying at Paradise Lagoons.

ONLY STILL FEW HUNDREDS METERS

The rain stops for a while. We cross a hill in the center of the village. “Behind it is the Pacific Ocean,” I say quietly. We take each other by the hand. Just a few more meters and we reach the top of the hill. We gaze spellbound at the horizon line that is currently formed by the asphalt strip in front of us. “Now!” I shout as we pass the climax. As if hypnotized, we gaze at the Pacific Ocean lying at our feet. We hold hands even tighter. I recognize Mike’s camera in the corner of my eye. The first wave of emotions rushes over us. Tears well up in my eyes. My insides are shaken. Let’s take a look. Tanja’s face becomes blurred. I wipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. More stores appear on the left and right. People come rushing out and clap. “Welcome to Emu Park! Welcome! You’ve made it! Congratulations! Congratulations!” they shout as we run down the hill in the middle of the road. It’s only a few hundred meters to the big water. Only minutes separate us from the biggest expedition destination of our travel life so far, the longest expedition in Australian history.

LONGEST CAMEL EXPEDITION IN AUSTRALIAN HISTORY & WORLD RECORD

At the end of our Red Earth Expedition, we also set a world record. As part of our “Great Journey”, we have covered over 11,000 kilometers (eleven thousand) by camel over the last 12 years. This includes a 200-kilometer partial crossing of the Sinai desert. The 1500-kilometer crossing of Pakistan. Crossing the desert of death (Taklamakan) with 1000 kilometers. You crossed Mongolia with horses and camels 1600 kilometers and now Australia with 7000 kilometers. That’s a total of 11300 kilometers (eleven thousand three hundred).

HOW BOLD OF A FILM

Our emotions are running high. Tears and laughter, tears and laughter alternate. We hear the waves. These are storm waves triggered by Cyclone Benni. The noise captures my ears. Only 20 meters to go. The boat ramp lies ahead of us. I lead Hardie onto it. He shies away a little. We slowly make our way down. The waves run out at our feet. Mike and Steve film this extraordinary moment. One of the greatest highlights of our lives. I pull Hardie onto the beach. It crunches. Rufus howls with joy. The first waves wash over our shoes. Step by step, we go deeper into the churning sea. The warm, murky ocean washes around our calves. We keep walking until a wave washes over our knees. Then we stop. Tanja and I look into each other’s eyes. The memories are mirrored. They rush by like scraps of a movie. The thousand-kilometer-long bushfire front in Western Australia. The class five cyclone, whose devastating 50-kilometer-wide eye destroyed everything. The worst rainfall in 200 years, whose floods submerged large parts of the Great Sandy and Gibson Deserts. Poisonous plants that posed a constant deadly threat to our boys. The worst drought in 100 years. Hundreds of dying cattle. Temperatures up to 48 degrees in the shade and soon 70 degrees in the sun. Our dying Goola. Our dead Max. The poisonous dingo baits that were a persistent threat to Rufus. Hundreds of sand dunes in the eternal Simpson Desert. The life-threatening attacks by wild camel bulls. The constant threat of poisonous insects and snakes. Navigating from waterhole to waterhole. The beauty of wild flowers. Unique encounters with the indigenous people of this red continent. Large herds of wild camels. Encounters with kangaroos, dingoes, lizards, snakes and beautiful birds. The many nights under the twinkling starry sky. Countless hours by the campfire. The indescribable hospitality and helpfulness of the outback people. The night of the shooting stars. The many conversations with the deserts and our Mother Earth…

My head is buzzing. More memories flash back and forth. It’s like a firework display in which negative and positive are combined. By merging the experiences with each other. As the countless images begin to run. Highs and lows join hands, forming a homogeneous unit. It is a wave of emotions that unite here with the waves of the Pacific Ocean.

THE MOMENT THAT BELONGS ONLY TO US

Tanja and I hug each other. We forget the world around us. We forget the people. Alongside the sound of the sea, we hear the clapping and shouting of a few well-wishers. Rufus whimpers. Steve and Mike are filming. We don’t notice any of this. We hug each other tightly. We stroke each other’s hair and tears of happiness run down our cheeks. It is raining. It’s pouring with rain while our hearts are rejoicing. It is a moment that belongs to us alone. A moment that we cannot share or explain. A moment of consciousness. A profound moment of pure life. It is the moment when time stands still for an eternity. The moment of being. The moment in which the future and the past play no role, in which all times unite. The moment that is worth experiencing. Worth walking 7000 kilometers through the infinity of Australia. It makes us realize how much this country has taught and shaped us. Which gives us a hint of how invaluable the experience gained is.

The waves crash around our feet. Hardie, Jafar and Istan look wide-eyed at the eternity of water disappearing into the horizon. A different world begins here. The wet element prevails here, bringing our expedition to an end. We actually made it. In three years, we crossed the continent from south to north and from west to east. The four points of the compass were our signposts for 7000 kilometers. The elements of nature were our constant companions. They have taught us respect, frightened us and kept us in suspense, but they have also wrapped us up like a silk scarf, protected us and carried us from coast to coast as if on oversized hands. The elements have become our partners, our friends and teachers, even allies. They made us realize that we are not alone here, that we are connected to each other, that we are part of nature. They have taught us to be an important part of Mother Earth. They have taught us to take responsibility. Responsibility for ourselves and future generations. They have taught us not to separate the unity of nature. They made us understand that man must never isolate himself from nature. That this would mean the destruction of our existence. That all environmental pollution means nothing more than leaving our waste on our own plates. That every action is met with a reaction. The oneness of the elements, which embed our Mother Earth in a protective mantle, have sucked us into themselves, shaken, rattled and caressed us and taught us again and again what an inseparable part we humans are “of that which exists.”

“Let’s shake hands,” distant voices take us out of the moment of timelessness. As if the stage curtain is being pushed aside, I suddenly feel the salt water washing over my feet again. A group of people is standing next to us. They laugh happily at us. They also ran into the water to take part in this wonderful event. We gratefully accept your congratulations. Then we walk up and down the beach a few more times for photographer Mark Straker from the Morning Bulletin until we sit down on the wet grass on the beach. We give a few more interviews, have a lively chat with the visitors and enjoy the hours. We are invited to dinner by a restaurant owner. Unfortunately, we have to decline. The rain gets heavier and heavier. We are forced to leave the beach, because when the cyclone hits the coast, everything here will be under water.

We walk back again in a divine mood. Some people are still waving at us. We walk up the hill from Emu Park. Just a few kilometers further on, we turn onto a side road and lead our brave animals onto the Graem Miller farm. He offered to let us use his loading ramp to load Hardie, Jafar and Istan onto the truck. Robert, the manager of Paradies Lagoons, arrives on time with the truck. In the pouring rain, we load our faithful companions and equipment onto the animal transporter without much difficulty and drive back to our last base camp of the Red Earth Expedition, Paradise Lagoons.

As we lead our boys into the enclosure, we witness an extraordinary animal friendship. No sooner have Edgar and Jasper discovered their mates than they come racing up to greet them with cautious bubbling. Even Sebastian makes a great effort to march as fast as his weakened body will allow in order to receive his flock. They rub their heads together and sniff each other. Then, once they have happily realized that they are reunited, they go on an exuberant rampage. Tanja and I stand there and laugh. We laugh until our stomachs hurt. Our joy is great, far too great to describe in words. “Look at Sebastian. He’s eating,” says Tanja happily. “Yes, I think we got him through,” I reply, hugging her….

When it’s dark, I stroke our faithful and always cheerful friend Rufus. He seems to be just as happy as we are. “You’re a good dog. A really brave and clever dog. A world champion,” I talk to him and crawl under his armpits. Satisfied, I lie down on the floor next to him when I unexpectedly see his little book lying open. At this moment Tanja whistles. Rufus pricks up his ears. He knows exactly that this whistle announces his evening meal. Nothing can hold him anymore. Only a cloud of dust reveals that a dog has just been sitting here. Naturally, I take the good opportunity to grab his little book. I quickly open it. I don’t have much time to read because Rufus is also a world record holder in speed eating.

THE EXPEDITION DIARY OF AN EXPEDITION DOG NAME RUFUS

Of course, when we arrived at Paradise Lagoons, we were still a long way from our destination. The base camp was here, but there were still 70 exciting kilometers between us and our arrival at the ocean. Sebastian’s illness lay like a dark cloud over our camp and we were all very depressed. No matter how long we waited and cared for our Sebastian, he just wouldn’t regain his strength. At some point, the decision was made. Hardie should take on the role of the lead camel. Boy, I could only hope that my humans knew what they were up to. From what I heard, Rockhampton wasn’t exactly going to be a picnic walk.

Personally, however, I was very happy with Hardie on the line. This would make me stand out even more and, as the rider on the first camel, I would attract all the attention. It was an exciting thought. I could hardly contain myself with anticipation and when I was alone I howled incessantly: “Waaauuuuhhhh! Dog ladies watch out, waaauuuuhhhh. I’m coming riding through Rockhampton with flying colors, waaauuuuuhhhh! Your hearts will fly to me, waaaauuuuhhhh!”

It was really exciting when we moved to the camel pasture the evening before the big finish. At dusk, Tanja and Denis set up the necessary equipment and saddles for the finish line team. Tanja then went to the camels, who were all sitting comfortably on a sandy track. She told them who would be on which team and that the task of the base camp team was just as important as that of the finish line team. She explained to them that the base camp team had a huge responsibility, as they had to look after Sebastian’s mental well-being and keep up his morale. “The finish line team,” she said, “will prove themselves with courage and perseverance and not let themselves be boxed in by traffic noise and buildings.” Of course, it was clear to me which team I was in.

We set off while it was still dark. It was a strange feeling to be traveling as a small caravan. “Small but mighty,” I yowl again and again. Jafar was so excited that he pursed his lips. The brighter it got, the busier the streets became. It was fantastic to see all the amazed people. The confusion of traffic and people made us all feel a little insecure. Most drivers and road users were smart enough to understand that we are animals and that you have to keep your distance, otherwise we get a huge fright.

Hardie really impressed me with the way he carried the responsibility of being the lead camel. He represented his best buddy Sebastian with dignity. The city became more and more crowded and soon the time had come for us to cross Rockhampton’s large bridge. The police had been behind us for some time and made sure that nobody overtook us or came too close. It was an overwhelming spectacle to walk on this huge bridge. Behind us was a billowing wall of traffic with trucks and lots of cars. The royal Fitzroy River stretched below us, with boats bobbing in the water like frogs. Tanja ran out with her camera to take a photo of us. As I rode past her, I thought I saw tears in her eyes, even though she was laughing. I think people who are very touched can laugh and cry at the same time.

Luckily Tanja and Denis had scouted the route to the ocean and so we didn’t have to worry about our camp. We knew it wasn’t far away and were looking forward to the break soon. Not necessarily my people. The two of them were able to borrow a car to look after Sebastian. The next few days of running were more or less as eventful and exciting.

On the third day of the run it started to rain. We were all so looking forward to the finish and the long-awaited rain that it was almost unbearable. The moment we walked up the little hill and saw the ocean, I couldn’t help but squeal, howl and sing for joy. We were all so happy. My people were holding hands. People came out of their houses to the left and right and congratulated me. “Look at that brave dog! That’s a hero! He’s supposed to have ridden and run 7000 kilometers across Australia! That must be a world record dog!” I heard people shout, and I pushed my big, broad chest even further forward.

The moment we ran into the ocean will stay in my memory forever. I little dog actually managed to cross this whole big wild and wonderful Australia. I can now see so many pictures in my mind’s eye, all the experiences, the camps, the adventure. I met so many new dog friends and I know one thing for sure, none of those nasty poisoned dingo baits got me. I have beaten them to a bargain. Am I proud? Yes, I’m as proud as ten dogs. Even with all the effort and hardship, I am happy. I am glad to have been a flop as a sheepdog. This opened the door to a new life for me and a new home with Tanja and Denis.

It’s a mega-fantastic life as a successful East Coast expedition arrival dog. “Hhhhhuuuuu! Waaaauuuuuuhhh! Waaaauuuuuuhhhh!”

PLEASE FIND ENCLOSED SOME INFORMATION FOR OUR READERS!!!

The next few days are going to be crazy for us. Cyclone Benni brings tremendous rain. We are sealed off from the outside world. Our camels stand in the constantly rising water. Their lives are under threat. Small dried-up creeks become raging rivers. We have no access to our animals. A man in the neighborhood is swept away by the floods as he tries to save his horses. He dies. We set off anyway to rescue our companions. Sebastian is bitten by a snake and much more. When we can take a deep breath again and know how things are going, I will report in detail in the next update.