29 April 2011 - Koramba Cotton, NSW

Again sitting out under the awning, with the sun shining and the light breeze keeping the temperature relatively cool. Today I am feeling a little freer; knowledge accounts for that!

The local co-op

Chris arrived home last night at ten to eight. I had been half expecting him from about five thirty, but having no precedent, really did not have a clue. Dinner was resting in the crock pot ready for his return, and at seven o’clock I put the potatoes and broccoli on, so dinner was still quite edible when he did at last arrive. The headlights came in to camp and swung around by the caravan. I opened the door to welcome him in, wondering what state he would be in. I was relieved to se that he was not exhausted, tired, yes, but not crawling in the door suggesting we leave at once.

Boomi's busy streets

He had had an interesting day however did remark that the work would become rather monotonous once the initial days had passed. He had spent most of the day in two separate areas working in a team of four, preparing the cotton modules for transport. The modules are four sided crates, with neither top nor bottom. The harvesting machines drop the cotton in to the crate, dropping a fair amount which has to be scooped up manually. Then an operator uses a pressing machine to compact the cotton down firmly, in the same way a wool bale is “pressed”, the men pass and tie ropes around the module and then finish it with a tarpaulin over the top. The job requires a lot of bending which Chris has experienced all his painting life, and stamina. They work twelve hour days, with really no stop for lunch or tea break, just grabbing something from their eskis in between modules. The workers are mainly back packers, but also include middle aged people who make this an annual job. Chris was picked up from the first location and taken to a second where they were short handed. He was amazed how big the operation is.

Looks like their faith is a bit rusty.

He was relieved that I had been able to get internet access and was pleased to hear that I was willing to stay here for several weeks or at least as long as he felt capable of doing the work. The work will be continuous, no allowance for weekends or public holidays, the only break to be taken if the cotton gets rained on and then only until it has dried.

Needless to say, after a late dinner and shower, he fell in to bed and slept like a log.

The alarm went off this morning at six; this time we were not awake earlier waiting in anticipation and anxiety that it may not go off. (As you can imagine, the alarm feature on the clock had yet to be tried)  I had made his lunch, a rather weird mix of bits I could gather, the night before, and so after breakfast, empting the loo (a job I am not easily capable of alone), he was off to catch his transport to the job at the “garage” gate.

Today is yet another statutory holiday in Queensland; show day. So there was little point in traveling back across the border in to Goondiwindi.  Moree, a few kilometers more seemed to be a bit more challenging, especially since I have no knowledge of the road, and so my plan was to go into Boomi to the Co-op there and stock up on just a few basics, namely bread, meat, fruit and vegetables. The Moree tourist brochure said the store was open seven days a week, from seven in the morning.

So I set off in the landcruiser, a vehicle I have not driven too often, along the terrible road to “town”. Actually it wasn’t too bad but then I wasn’t towing, but I was surprised how many sections of the road were flood damaged, the whole surface of the road just torn up by the waters. There was little traffic, just a road train and another large truck. I slowed and pulled to the side as one must, and felt quite confident about the experience, one that people speak of in hushed voices. However in all fairness, the trucks were not traveling very fast.

Should have checked whether they had bottled water at the Co-op.

I drove up the main street of Boomi and saw the pub, all closed and quiet, as was the entire town. I drove a whole circuit around the town, looking for the co-op or even evidence of life, until about to do a third, I spotted the sign beyond a fenced section. I pulled in to join at least another four vehicles and realized that this was where the entire population was for the morning, or at least those who were not out working in the cotton. Bear in mind that Boomi is situated in New South Wales, so one could expect this Friday morning to be the normal hustle and bustle.

The wide streets of Boomi

Four ladies, all looking like the PTA or the Country Women’s Institute, greeted me from behind the counter, a hole in the wall such as the tea serving counter in a public hall. The wares were scattered around the shop; a shelf with a few cans, an upright fridge with a pumpkin, some milk, half a dozen oranges, some eggs, et cetera. You get the picture? Sometimes you strike caravan parks like this, offering standard provisions but in reality, incredibly scanty. The bread display rack was in front of me, empty. “Can we help you?", they chorused. 

I looked around and said, “Umm, do you have any bread?” 

“Oh, yes, was the reply, we have lots in the freezer.” 

Then one remembered there was some fresh bread on the shelf behind her in the kitchen. And I am thinking, this is just not going to do it!!! I left with two loaves of bread and two mandarins, which should see Chris right for his lunch tomorrow. He will have to face a tuna potato bake tonight, with the last of the salad. This bounty of goods cost me $9.60 plus the diesel to travel twenty five kilometers or so.                              

                                                   

While my quest had been rather unsuccessful, I took advantage of the fact that I was driving a 4WD, was wearing sturdy shoes, had my camera, had not dressed to the nines for town and had no time limits on my return to camp.

I parked and walked up one side of the main street and down the other. There was a woman in the playground with a small child, and I had missed the camping ground where about four or five caravans were parked. I have no idea what they will find to do in Boomi unless they give the National Harvest people a call and go and join Chris. There is a swimming pool here which offers an alternative to those artesian baths in Moree, so perhaps they will spend their days soaking up the sun in the waters of Boomi.

Fields of cotton

Cotton on a bush

On my way back out to Karamba, I noted two dead kangaroos on the side of the road that had not been there when I drove in, and passed or was overtaken by at last four other 4WD vehicles. I stopped by the Boomi River and went for a wander about three hundred metres up stream. The screeching of the sulphur crested cockatoos told me that I was not welcome, but it was lovely being out there away from the sound or view of anyone or anything (apart from the birds). I stopped also at the Gnoura Gnoura Creek nearer home and listened to the birds, and then pulled in to the road leading to the Gin, but stopped at the no entry signs. I had a complete sense of freedom and peace, and felt ready to take on the road to Goondiwindi tomorrow which I will have to do whether I still feel the same or not. One has to eat!

 

A google search has told me that we are 2.28 kilometres south of the Booning Crossing into Queensland, 107 kilometres from Moree and 111 kilometres from Goondiwindi. The centre of the universe!