I am holed up in the caravan mid-morning, wearing layer upon layer of clothes. Outside the sun is shining but there is a cold southerly wind blowing, and I am shirking my obligations for my daily intake of sun-generated Vitamin A and exercise. I am not avoiding the Gatekeeper, my new serpentine acquaintance, but the mud that is still too moist to invite further emersion. Yesterday afternoon it rained in buckets turning the country to mush and making the cotton un-harvestable, however the wind overnight has remedied the latter and is slowly dealing with the first.
I did go into the big-smoke yesterday, leaving as Chris headed off for work at the later time of eight o’clock. Because of that slightly later start, I missed the roos on the move, only seeing the road kill, but did see half a dozen emus grazing on forbidden crops; probably the same ones Chris and I had seen the late afternoon we moved here.
The weather forecast was for possible thunderstorms, but the morning was beautiful although storm clouds were about. The big skies of this black soil plain in the Border Rivers Region are just awesome! It is of course because there are no mountain ranges or even hills within view, the horizon is just infinite for as far a one can see, and for the whole 360 degrees.
The road from here to Boomi was certainly not improved by the rain of last week, and I am sure will be even worse today. I travelled into Gundy (localese for Goondiwindi) by the same route as my last trip, east through New South Wales , across the McIntyre River into Queensland and Gundy, then west to Talwood, and south back across the river to our camp in New South Wales
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| The wide streets of Goondiwindi |
During my morning in Gundy, I filled the diesel tank, called at the Dorchester Computing to enquire about replacing my laptop keyboard, had my hair cut at the Barbarette (where Chris fortunately had gone the very day we came out here), replenished my book stocks at the Book Exchange, succumbed to temptation at Millers and purchased another warm jacket and pair of pants, purchased some bits and pieces to do repairs on caravan accessories (including finding some light bulbs after visiting the Information Centre for directions) and of course, last but certainly not least, cleared the shelves of the Bilo supermarket to replenish our food stores.
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| The bridge over the Weir River, the ford access beyond |
As I travelled home and toward Talwood, keeping a good speed up having become more familiar with both the road and the route, I noted the black storm passing along the south side of the river / border. I did not hit the rain until just south of Talwood, and then it was very light as I stopped to take photos at the Weir River, but soon after I hit the mud bath, ten kilometres of slippery road which was not great fun to drive through. Needless to say, my speed was considerably less, and even as I turned up into the farm in second gear, the vehicle slid in the deep mire. It was very evident that there had been a deluge here and I had missed it all, and only because I had chosen to take the anti-clockwise round trip.
Chris’s boots were outside the door; I was pleased to find him waiting for me. He was able to help unload the vehicle but was not overly impressed with the orange-brown coating over his pride and joy. He dressed back into his work clothes and hosed away all evidence of my trip, in fact it is now cleaner than it has been for some weeks.
Chris’s work had been curtailed at about eleven thirty by the storm, having worked just three and a half hours in his new team; new in that Alex, the German, has been replaced by Stephan, another German, but this one a mere nineteen years old. It seems that subsequent to the Irishman’s departure, Chris’s two team mates had lowered themselves to baiting each other like a couple of school boys. Fortunately one requested the other be transferred to another team, hence the re-shuffle. Chris says he feels more like the Grandfather than before. I suggested he too suggest to the supervisor, Greg, that if he is looking for someone to change teams, he consider Chris first. But Chris assures me that he is just letting it all waft over his head, because he would otherwise deal with the lot of them in a way that may do him no favours.
My encounter with the snake has reached epic fame in the fields and Greg has suggested three species it might have been. I have subsequently Googled each of those and ascertained it was a small King Brown. I also pulled my belt out of the draw, saw that it was about a metre long, coiled it up and decided that my snake was probably one and a quarter to one and a half metres long.
On reading the following, I had to agree with myself that it was just as well I had not tried to take his picture.
THE GATE-KEEPER
Pseudechis australis, the common King Brown or Mulga snake, is a species of venomous snake found in Australia. It is one of the longest venomous snakes in the world and the second longest in Australia
While writing this, I have been emailed by Dorchester Computing with a quote; I have given the go ahead, and now will wait for them to let me know when the part arrives. Hopefully we can co-ordinate a time that fits with my next trip to Gundy.
Even as I write this, the clouds are gathering once more and I fear that there will be a repeat of yesterday’s weather, despite the contrary forecasts. Still, it does mean that Chris has a forced rest and I have good company. So in the meantime I had better deal with other business that has arrived in my inbox today.
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