The time of unfortunate coincidences has come

Day: 219 Stage three / total expedition days 610

Sunrise:
05:23

Sunset:
18:53

As the crow flies:
27,4

Daily kilometers:
36

Total kilometers:
6334 km

Temperature - Day (maximum):
38° degrees, sun approx. 58°

Temperature - Night:
21.1° degrees

Latitude:
22°25'20.6"

Longitude:
147°25'19.5"

Mutation Camp – 12/21/2002

Beep! Beep! Beep, the wristwatches wake us up at 3:00 am. I open my eyes, completely exhausted. “It’s still raining,” says Tanja. “Hm,” I reply taciturnly. “Actually, we only get up this early to avoid the sun’s hot rays during loading?” “That’s right. There’s no sun during the rain so let’s not get up until 4:00 a.m.,” I say, setting my watch and going straight back to sleep. When the hour is up a little later and it is still raining, we agree not to get up until 5:00 am.

It is still drizzling at 5:00 am. Nevertheless, we leave our tent and break camp. The ground is softened by the overnight rain and sticks to everything. As we are in an area of the black earth here, we are struggling with the superglue effect already described.

When we set off at 8:10 a.m., the sun has been beating down on our heads for hours. Everything steams like in a saucepan. The air is humid and breathing is not easy. After just a few meters, a veritable mountain of earth sticks under our shoes. We wobble along as if on high heels. Millions of flies buzz around our heads. The humidity seems to have multiplied in just a few hours. Yesterday we went through a gate on the other side of the border fence to find a place to camp. Now we walk along it again and hope to find a gate that opens the way to the main road. “It’s annoying stuff,” I say. “You mean the bloody, sticky earth?” “Yes. It’s really exhausting to move around with mountains of earth under the soles of your shoes.” “We can only be glad to be able to walk on the road again soon. Imagine if this rain had caught us in the center of the Black Earth country.” “Not a good idea,” I reply, puffing like an election horse.

“CAR! TRUCK! ROADTRAAAAIIIINNN!” ARE TANJA’S WARNING CRIES

Half an hour later, we are back on the Gregory Developmental Road and making great strides. Just like yesterday, road trains thunder past us again and again. “Car! Truck! Roadtraaaaiiiinnn!” are Tanja’s warning cries that reach the head of the caravan from time to time. Whenever a truck or a road train comes along, I try to pull off onto the hard shoulder or into the ditch. Of course, my eyes scan the space next to the road like a computer program in a fraction of a second to detect any broken glass, bottle necks and bottle bottoms. If one of our boys were to step into it, it would mean the end for him. At the very least, a cut open sole of the foot would be an injury that takes up to a year to heal.

Jasper and Edgar continue to jump to the left in a panic and even try to overtake their mates. But now that they are running into the bushes, the danger for us is no longer great. However, there are also a few exceptions on the left-hand side of the road. At irregular intervals during heavy rainfall, a thick pipe directs water from the left to the right side of the road and vice versa. The pipes ensure that the road is not flooded during heavy rainfall. Sometimes the asphalt strip is very raised at just such a point, so that the edge of the road forms a two to three meter deep ditch. If our caravan were to pass such a sloping edge and a road train were to overtake us at that precise moment, Jasper would plummet to the ground from sheer excitement. The result would be fatal, as he would most likely hang himself from the neck rope and drag his buddies with him. Just the thought of it makes our hair stand on end.

In the meantime, we have already left many such dangerous places behind us. Sometimes it was close, but I was always able to pass the camels in time before the road train thundered past us, by which I also mean the trucks coming towards us. To be able to calculate the situation in advance, I have adopted a simple technique. As soon as I enter the street slope area with Sebastian, I count my steps. It is exactly 26 steps until Jasper is also past the danger point.

TIME OF UNFORTUNATE COINCIDENCES

But since many things are subject to the law of the series, the time has come for unfortunate coincidences. When I spot another steep, 50-meter-long bridge crossing about 30 meters ahead of us, Tanja’s warning call hits me like an arrow. “Roadtraaaaiiiinnn!” it hammers in my ears. I don’t have much time to act. If I keep walking, the road train will catch us right on the section with the slope. As the water crossing in front of us is at least five meters high and the road looks more like a bridge, it is out of the question to march on. Hoping that the road train will overtake us before we reach the dangerous obstacle, I immediately slow down. I’m walking so slowly now that the animals don’t run the risk of piling up in a ball on the road. Rrrooaaa I hear it roaring louder and louder behind me. My calculation doesn’t work out. “Jasper swerves to the right! Oh God! The camels are piling up!” Tanja yells at the top of her lungs. I take a quick step to the right so that I can see behind me. The monster with three trailers is only a hundred meters behind us. I hear the compressor brake of the steel colossus. Sweat instantly appears on my forehead. Do something Denis! Do something! it roars inside me. I look to the left. We are still just 10 meters from the bridge crossing where it goes straight down. Right next to me, the slope is already irresponsibly steep. Rrrroooooooaaaaa the earthquake thunders closer and I see Jasper and Edgar race into the middle of the asphalt. Without thinking twice, I take the path of least evil. Just a few meters from the yawning abyss in front of us, I pull Sebastian down the steep slope. He glides down the steep slope like a skier in a plow, dragging poor Hardie behind him. Hardie races into the deep like a striker and slams Sebastian in the ass. Rufus just manages to hold on with an acrobatic act. Jafar and Istan open their eyes and before they can stop they pull the neck rope into the depths. Rrrrooooaaaaaaauuuuu! ,it roars above our heads as the road train thunders past and Jasper and Edgar glide down the steep slope with flying colors. I stand still, my legs trembling. Tanja now also comes down the slope. “I don’t understand why they piled onto the road just now? That was damn close!” “I was running too slowly. It was my fault, but I didn’t want to come down here under any circumstances. Are our boys unhurt?” I ask, because I can’t see them all from where I’m standing. “It looks like the descent went well. We were lucky.”

OUR TENT SUDDENLY DEFORMS INTO AN EGG.

After a short breather, we continue our dangerous march. We don’t find a campsite on the edge of a dense forest until after 14:00. It is no longer unusual to be at the end of our tether after 36 kilometers of running and the excitement of the day. Tired but still with fantastic morale, we set up camp. Tanja and I get on brilliantly despite the effort. That is certainly one of the reasons why we are surviving these forced marches and the many constantly changing dangers so well.

In the late afternoon, nasty clouds gather to the north-east of us. This time I set up the tent straight away. As soon as our protective cover is in place, Rufus jumps in and can no longer be removed. “You’re not going to be scared of the storm, are you?” I say and look at him questioningly. “You bet I’m scared. Look what’s coming towards us. You won’t get me out of there,’ he seems to mutter, to which I let him be.

We use the daylight to make our camp storm-proof. “Doesn’t look good at all,” I murmur, studying the sky. “Do you think it’s coming through us?” “Most definitely. The way the clouds are gathering at the moment, they’ve chosen this exact spot as their target. I’d better take down our tarpaulin too. When the storm comes over us, it will tear this thing to shreds,’ I say and untie the cords from the tall trees.

Our campsite is right in front of a huge cleared piece of land. The open space allows us to keep a close eye on the storm, which is now approaching ever faster. There is thunder and rumbling on the horizon. Lightning flashes through the black-blue towers of cloud and, for a few moments, seems to hack them to pieces like sword strokes. I get our movie camera to film the spectacle. There is almost no wind. Directly behind our tent, huge trees stretch into the darkening sky. I took great care to set up our small and fragile shelter away from falling branches, as people are often killed by falling trees and branches in their tents. “Look at that!” I shout, pointing at the lightning battle. Now with my camera at the ready, I try in vain to capture one of the flashes. Suddenly a strong wind comes up. A cruel gust of wind follows and sweeps mercilessly through the crashing and groaning forest. Our tent suddenly deforms into an egg. “It’s starting!” I yell. On the clearing, I can see the wall of rain eating its way inexorably in our direction. Leaves and small branches shred through the air. Tanja is already in the tent when I check the storm bracing and the pegs again. Another terrible gust of wind rushes across the clearing and almost knocks me off my feet. “My God! This is a full-blown storm. We’re right in the center of it!” I scream, fleeing into the tent. Just in time, I rush over Rufus, who has curled up as small as possible in the vestibule. As soon as my body is under the fabric dwelling, I turn to pull the zipper closed. A vicious wind presses against it with all its force and blows our igloo into a fat balloon. With all my strength I can pull the zipper closed, which is stuck together with sand and dirt. As if a waterfall had opened up above us, it rushes down on us. The noise is terrifying. The storm tears at the tent canvas so hard that we literally stop spitting. We have already experienced several storms in Australia but this one seems to be a step up again. “I hope the tent holds out!” I shout. “Do you think it’s at risk?” Tanja asks seriously. “If it gets any worse, definitely!” I say, praying that the storm will pass quickly. “Oh, for shame. Water’s getting in!” I realize. Through one of the ventilation slits in the outer skin, water shoots into the inner area of the tent in torrents. I hastily close the mosquito net on the inner tent to keep the water out. “I have to get out! I absolutely have to close the air vent!” I shout. I immediately open the inner tent to climb into the tiny awning. As I have my hand on the outer tent to open this zipper too, something hits my finger with whipping force. “Ouch!” I pull my hand back, screaming. “What is it?” “It’s hailing. Impossible to go out there now. Oh God, please let it stop again. Please!” I shout, huddling in the tent. In the meantime, the inner tent is turning dark. The lashing rain causes more and more water to enter the ventilation slot. I anxiously watch the spot getting bigger and bigger.

Suddenly the terrible drumming subsides a little. Expecting to get hit on the fingers again, I carefully open the outer zipper. I gaze in amazement at a white landscape. As far as the eye can see, everything is covered in white hailstones. It’s a strange picture to see something like this here in summertime Australia. It is still pouring down in torrents from the sky. But because it has stopped hailing, I go out anyway. The biting, cold wind whips the rain onto my naked body. As quickly as I can, I walk the meter around the small, plagued dwelling and close the air vent. “Shit, that’s cold. Oho it’s cold. Bibber! Bibber it’s cold. Ohohooo!” I shout and, after my successful mission, throw myself back over the curled up and speechless Rufus. Tanja welcomes me inside with her nightgown. She immediately rubs me dry with it. Again it starts to hammer down on us for all we’re worth. The water level around us rises in seconds. The drum roll is almost unbearable when suddenly and as abruptly as it started, everything stops. We look at each other with suspicion. “Is that it?” I ask. “Strange,” says Tanja. “Well, I don’t know. I feel like we’re right in the eye of this storm now.” “But it’s not a cyclone. Isn’t it?” asks Tanja nervously. “No, I don’t think so,” I reply as it suddenly starts drumming on us again. I sit there and, to be honest, I start to pray. Just five minutes later, the drum roll stops again. “I think that’s it,” I say and open the zipper to look at the sky. In fact, the dark clouds have moved to the southwest. There is still a little thundering and rumbling until these mighty sounds also become increasingly silent.

Relieved, I settle down next to Tanja. “Phew, what a day,” I whisper. “In any case, we never get bored,” Tanja whispers quietly. “You said it. I thought it would be easier here near civilization, but that was once again a fallacy. On the contrary, the roads with their road trains, broken glass and people are more dangerous than the deserts. Don’t you agree?” “Oh yes. The incident with the road train was really close. To be honest, I like the deserts better,” she whispers. “Tanja?” “Yes?” “I love you. You’re a great woman. I’m glad you’re sharing this life with me. It’s exhausting but it also has its highs. It’s nice that we can experience them together. I’m glad to have you.” “I’m also glad that I have you…”