24 May 2011 - Koramba Cotton, NSW

Nearly always a comment about the weather as I start. Tedious perhaps, but so often the weather sets the mood for the whole day and certainly when one is not working to the beat of the regimental drum, it is likely to direct the events of the day.

Yesterday the weather certainly had a big impact on our day. The previous night it had rained, long and hard. Even as the alarm went off, even without checking for messages left in the mess by the powers-that-be, we knew we could turn over and enjoy an hour more in bed if we so chose; pure luxury, and more so for Chris with his working 24/7, eleven to twelve hours a day. In fact the day dawned clear with a light breeze, however the ground was a mess, and even if the cotton had dried off by midday, the machines and vehicles could not have operated in the boggy conditions.

I had been lamenting to Chris that he was not able to share in my delightful country walks, and so he suggested we head off out and make the most of the opportunity. We did so, wearing raincoats in the event of rain, which was predicted but not evident. The black soil clung to our boots like heavy treacle; it was like walking in a bog. The mud would build up on the soles of our boots to about three or four centimetres; it reminded me of the high platform shoes I had in the early seventies. After a while we discovered the trick; a dozen steps then a kick out to one side then the other, to shake a wad of mud off. I am sure that we must have looked pretty funny progressing down the farm track like that!! However we persevered along the bare tracks that have previously eased my route and now were just a curse. We reached the Serpentine Gate, I showed Chris where I had seen the snake, and we decided to cross the fence there anyway, rather than slide under the fence on the other side; no snake and an easier passage. We reached the river where the pump draws the McIntyre out on to the cotton, then pressed on to the billabong. I can normally do this route in just over three quarters of an hour, but it took us a lot longer plugging through the heavy mud. It was much more of a workout than normal!

Chris was delighted with the wildlife, as I am everyday when I head off out. The birdlife was not quite as evident as some days, however we did watch a duo of roos bounding gracefully along the top of the levee parallel to our route, before they came down, across in front of us and off in to the scrub. We remarked too how far apart the tracks were of these roos and others that had passed this way, given that these are the smaller Eastern Grey Kangaroos as opposed to the Big Reds we will no doubt discover in Western Australia. (It is these Big Reds that one sees in cartoons of roo versus man in boxing gloves.)

We returned in time for lunch, having taken nearly three hours and were relieved to remove our boots. After eating we headed in to Boomi, it being the first time that Chris had left the farm since arriving here in late April, apart from the small trip we had done one rainy afternoon to Talwood. It was certainly the first time he had seen Boomi, since the road turning toward Koramba from Gundy barely touches the northern corner of the settlement and then it had been on dusk.

Boomi was a buzzing! The pub was busy, the outside tables full of idle cotton pickers. The camping ground was full of at least a dozen caravans, and an overflow parked around behind the store. A couple of trucks lay idle on the road side, and as we discovered soon, their drivers were hanging about waiting for the ground to dry so they could proceed on to farms to collect cotton modules.

Chris was as (un)impressed with the store as I had been, however the one very friendly woman behind the counter offered us two kinds of bread; frozen white or frozen multi-grain. She also held up a bag of buttered bread telling us that they had not required it for sandwiches this morning after all, and we could have that if we preferred. We elected for the frozen multi-grain and asked her to hold it for us, then went next door to the Boomi Artesian Spa pools which are part of the camp.

Now I did do an injustice to Moree when I told of our passing through on a dead day over Easter. Moree is a major agricultural centre, noted for its part in the Australian cotton growing industry which was established there in the early 1960s. It is also home to artesian hot spring baths which are famous for their reputed healing qualities and was a focal point of 'freedom-ride' protests against racial segregation in the 1960s.

To quote:

In 1895 the Great Artesian Basin which sits under Moree was tapped and yields over thirteen million litres of water every day. The bore was sunk to 3,000 ft (900 m) deep in order to provide water for agricultural pursuits but was proved unsuitable for this purpose. 

Moree was one of the destinations of the famous 1965 Freedom Bus ride, an historic trip through northern NSW led by the late Charles Perkins to bring media attention to discrimination against Indigenous Australians. It brought racial segregation in rural Australia to the attention of urban Australians, in particular at the Moree public swimming pool as well as pubs and theatres, where Aborigines were refused entry. At the Moree swimming pool, after a confrontation with the council and pool management, it was agreed that Indigenous children could swim in the pool outside school hours However, this was immediately reversed when the bus left Moree. Jim Spigelman, one of the Freedom riders who later became Chief Justice of the NSW Supreme Court, was king hit by a local outside the Moree baths after making sexual comments to a married woman, according to a Sydney Morning Herald report on the 40th anniversary of the Freedom Bus Rides.

In 2007 the Moree Plains Council announced plans for a $14m upgrade to the hot thermal baths.

We had found Moree deserted, I suspect all the population that day was either out in the rural lands in the cotton, or lazing in the pools. We did not linger there but pressed on to Gundy, not realising at the time how Moree would feature in our lives. Koramba’s offices are in Moree, as are the offices of other business’s that Dean Phillips, The American, dabbles in. Moree is the town of choice for the workers here to travel to when they are rained off, to visit internet cafes and to do their shopping. I suspect too that while the distance to Moree is similar to the distance to any settlement of substance from here, the road is probably superior to all others, once you reach the St George – Moree connection. Moree is also where the fourteen year old daughter of Greg, the supervisor, buses to school every day!

When we were well south of Moree, and I, with my navigator’s hat on, read in a brochure about an artesian spa north west of Moree, as an option to those of Moree, and one that suggested as being far cheaper to visit, I mentioned it to Chris. However we looked at the tiny dot on the map marked Boomi and decided that it looked if it were too remote, too far off our intended route and as if the roads were less than standard. We were not to know then that we would find ourselves here after all!

Sitting in the 40 degree mineral spa initially with four others, two the drivers of the waiting trucks and the others fellow gypsies from Singleton, we discovered that the caravanners in the park were all just travelling through, not there to work as we were. This astounded me, that they would choose this route through to Moree, or St George, or Goondiwindi, depending on the direction of their route. Some stayed for days, enjoying the spa which is open from two in the afternoon until about six.

The signage at the pools is an absolute hoot. You are requested to shower before entering the pools, and then in the changing room, you are excused from showering if you are already clean because that will help them conserve water. They ask that you cover yourself in a modest fashion from changing room to pool, or particularly if you should want to purchase something at the store, because they “at Boomi, are a conservative lot.”

As we soaked ourselves, half a dozen more bathers came to join us, and all were older than us and all at least as modestly clad as us. I suspect the signs are particularly directed at the few young backpackers who choose on their days off to bathe rather than booze at the pub. Are there any?

After two hours we emerged prune-like, and returned to the store to collect our bread. Chris spotted a newspaper but then noted that it was last Tuesday’s Courier Mail, seven days old. The store minder told us dryly that the news at Boomi was old news. She also told us that the bread came on Wednesdays, so obviously more frozen bread is sold there than fresh. We splashed out and bought ourselves ice creams, so all in all it was quite a festive day we had in Boomi.

We had been surprised at the extent of the roadwork outside the farm gate and the two kilometres down to the seal just north of the gin, I even more than Chris, because it was just one week since I had travelled that way. However the single lane of vehicle tracks was slippery and quite treacherous as we had headed down to Boomi. By the time we returned, the wind and sun had improved the condition and I was less concerned about the speed we did.

We spent the rest of the afternoon sitting out on our “veranda”, reading and just enjoying companionship that is like gold these days. It was also wonderful to dine at a civilised hour. Dishes were done equally early and we settled down to a couple of games of Scrabble, winning one each. Being rained off does have its plus side.

The day before, Greg had asked Chris if Daryl had been to see him; they wanted Chris to stay on. Obviously he is one of the star employees!! Daryl had not spoken to him, but it did give Chris a chance to sound me out on how I felt about extending our time here. I told him that I was willing for us to stay on until the end of June if that is what he wants but not beyond. We also spoke about the fact that it would be better if he were working ten hours rather than twelve; for the sake of our personal life and routine rather than Chris’s ability to work the longer hours. The ball is in Chris’ court; he intends to find out exactly what kind of work they have in mind before he further considers the possibility.

With only perhaps two days to go until the harvest is at an end, I am averse to heading the 100 plus kilometres in to Gundy to shop when we might be heading back out that way just days after, so I am eking out our supplies, thinking that we should get by, even if I have to pop through to Talwood for more bread and a cabbage or cauliflower if there be such a jewel. If however, we are to stay on, then I shall venture in to the big smoke for a big stock up later in the week.

This morning we woke to clear skies and light breezes, all suggestions of a normal work day. When Chris popped across to the mess for any special directions for the day, particularly as regards start times, he learned that they were all to head off down to the gin for the first part of the day, because the cotton was still not quite dry. So he headed off this morning to another new experience with promises to tell me all about it tonight.

I spent the first part of the morning doing laundry and lamenting that the washing seems to come out of the machine little cleaner than it goes in, despite the extra washing powder I am using. While the clothes and linen were under going the above-said torture, I donned rubber gloves and gathered up one and a half rubbish sacks of debris. I am absolutely sick of the state of the camp and decided finally that instead of whinging, I should do something about it. Since then the wind has some up considerably and probably blown much of that outside the kitchen door all back down the drive and over the car park. It also started to rain, so I had to rush out and mess about with the line and laundry. More important however, I wonder whether the guys will have a full day. This must be so frustrating for Daryl and the supervisors, especially at this very late stage of play.

Once more we have no idea as to our movements ahead, but then that is the nature of this great adventure. I will await the next instalment, as you must.