The seasons determine our speed
Day: 28
Sunrise:
7:04
Sunset:
17:16
As the crow flies:
19,6
Daily kilometers:
25
Moonijin Camp – 08.06.2000
Due to the short daylight hours, we decided to get up an hour earlier. Tanja’s watch beeps at 6 o’clock. It is pitch dark and unpleasantly cold. The thermometer shows minus 3 degrees. A barely perceptible rosé appears on the horizon. Tanja and I are working like nimble weasels so that we can leave early today. In fact, we leave our camp at 10 a.m. and set a new record time.
As already mentioned, we are not aiming to set a record, but over the next few weeks we need to find a system that will allow us to cover greater distances than before. The days in the Australian winter are very short. Sunrise today, for example, is at 7:04 am and sunset at 5:16 pm. So we don’t have too much time during the day to get through all the work at the camp and the running route. Apart from that, the seasons give us a rough schedule. December marks the start of the cyclone and storm season in the north. Some of these hurricanes are catastrophic and absolutely destructive. Whether we like it or not, we have to reach our first stage, “Broome”, by January at the latest, because from this month onwards the storms occur relatively regularly. According to my calculations, it’s about 2500 kilometers to Broome. As we still have more than 7 months to go, we have to cover about 400 kilometers a month. Due to all our initial problems, we are currently halfway through the planned route. We also left 6 weeks late, which unfortunately takes away from our rest and recovery time.
Although a lot of my thoughts revolve around this topic, I don’t see any real time pressure at the moment. As I said, we also want to enjoy the country, nature and our lives. I fully expect our daily running route to improve significantly over the next few weeks. Of course, our health is the most important factor in this calculation.
“Train! Train! Train!” Tanja’s warning call pulls me out of my thoughts. A freight train comes towards us once or three times a day. The camels have now become accustomed to the iron monster. Apart from wide eyes and a few nervous glances, they hardly show any reaction. “Tuuuhhht! Tuuuhhht!”, sounds the shrill horn signal. The train driver leans out of the window with a laugh and gives us a friendly wave of encouragement. It’s good that the Australians are so well-disposed towards us. Almost every encounter with the people here is a wonderful encounter in which the rural population shows us their enthusiasm and encouragement. Later, when we reach the small village of Amery, an entire school is waiting for us. The village school has 15 children and one teacher. The young students ask us with interest why we are undertaking this journey, want to know what a camel eats and where we sleep at night. We take the time to take a photo with the children, which appears on the front page of Goomalling’s small daily newspaper a few days later. Then we say goodbye and continue our march.
We actually wanted to set up camp just behind Amery. Unfortunately, there is a lot of human debris lying around, forcing us to push our weary bones further. It is already 4 p.m. and time to pitch our tents, but the fence to the left and right of the tracks leaves no room for a camp. About 3 kilometers away, we discover a row of trees cutting through the barren farmland from left to right.
Such rows of trees often point to a road or path where it is sometimes possible to find a place to spend the night. “It looks good up ahead!” I shout encouragingly to Tanja and Jo, who are hurrying behind the caravan.
When we reach the supposed row of trees, I realize that the tracks are moving away from it in a sharp right turn and there is no other way to get through the fence than to cut it. Frustrated, we follow our iron signpost. At around 5 p.m. we reach another row of trees that crosses the land. This time we are lucky. A farmer comes towards us in his jeep. He has spotted our camels from afar and wants to know who we are.
Sheep farmer Jo and his son Adam offer us a place to camp on their huge land just 500 meters from here. We happily accept the offer and hurry with long strides to our overnight accommodation. Even before I set up the tents, I set up the Flying Doctor radio to get in touch with Tom.
“Yes Denis, I can hear you well!” rattles out of the small loudspeaker. “Where are you? I read the last sign of you at the level crossing near Amery,” says Tom, whereupon I explain our current position to him: “5 kilometers after Amery, a gravel path leads over the tracks. You have to follow it about 500 meters to the west and then you’ll see our campfire,” I answer him. “Okay, I’ll find it. Over and out,” he closes our radio contact as required by the rules. Just 10 minutes later, Tom has found our seat. As always, when he visits us and picks Jo up for a night or a few days, he brings fresh rainwater and other necessities for the Red Earth Expedition. We give each other a friendly hug and talk about the events of the last few days.
Before they leave us again, we remove the front saddle pads from Sebastian’s saddle. These are the last saddle pads to be stuffed with plastic foam. In the past few days we have noticed that Sebastian has rubbed his shoulders so badly with these pads that all his fur has disappeared in an area the size of a child’s hand. A large burst blister is now evidence of what saddle pads can do if they are not stuffed with straw. Straw is the only natural material that adapts to the camel’s body and can breathe well.
“Anything to do with plastic or synthetic foam should never be used as a saddle pad!”, say Jo and Tom. After just 12 days of marching, her statement is proven. Jo will stuff the saddle pads with straw over the next two days and bring them back on Saturday evening.
