Day 28 – Sean

The country has changed really rapidly. A couple of days ago we were in the lush green, cool dairy country of the Atherton Tablelands but as we headed West, through the rain shadow,  it seemed to take just a few miles before the country changed completely. I imagine it’s the standard “inch a mile” decline. Firstly there were big trees and hills and now today we have started on the Savannah Way towards the interior. Smaller trees, scrubby but with a fair bit of (dried) grass. Some of the cattle however look a bit thin. About 30 degrees at 2.00pm.

Todays drive was really interesting. Some hills, some really beautiful stretches of road and some less beautiful. The Savannah Way is called a “Development Road” which I think means, “It’s a work in progress and we’ll get her finished soon.” Some sections were single lane, just wide enough for a truck, but the dirt shoulders are wide and graded so when you meet someone coming at you, both just veer off to share half the bitumen bit of the road. Other sections are brand new and really quite spectacular in places.

We’re camped at a place called Georgetown in a nice caravan park. Dry and shady and with no mozzies. There are a few flies but fly season hasn’t started yet. By the time we get halfway down the West coast I imagine we will have plenty. Georgetown had a gold rush in the 1870s with gold found just lying on the ground. By the turn of the century it had all been picked up and everyone moved on.

The woman who runs the caravan park is very nice but she’s extremely upset by the fruit bats / flying foxes, of which there are hundreds of thousands. She wages a constant battle to keep them away because they destroy her trees and crap over all the caravans. Today they don’t seem to be too bad though but just across the road there are armies of them.  

This morning Spike and I had a chat with Sean, the 80 year old bloke in the gravel pit, living out of his old-ish Nissan Patrol. The sun was just rising.

“G’day,” I said. “How was your night?” .

“Oh fine thank you. Fine,” he said with a very broad Irish accent.

“Cool this morning.”

“Yes. Nice bit of sun coming now though.”

He was at this stage lighting his modest fire, carefully arranged between a few plates of steel, and pouring small quantities of diesel directly on to the burning wood to encourage it along. It was clear that Sean had done it this way for ages.

“So you’ve been on the road all year, eh?

“Yes. Yes I have that.”

“And what made you take to the road?” I asked, perhaps impertinently.

“Oh well. The wife died a couple of years ago you know, and I had to find something to do. Wasn’t going to sit around watching TV all day,” with a smile.

“I’ve noticed there seem to be quite a lot of single old blokes on the road.”

“Oh yes. There are indeed. Many. And women too, you know.”

“Really,” I said.

“Oh yes. In fact I think there might be more women than men. Mostly in campers you know – a few in caravans but the women seem to like the campers.”

“Is that a fact. Well you might find yourself another wife!”

“Oh golly. I don’t need another one of them,” he laughed.

“Righto, well have a good day,” I said.

“You too. Travel safely now.”