The Big Hitch

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I'd been in Katherine nearly six weeks, living a pretty sedate life. I worked in a motel from 9am to 1pm and 6pm to 10pm six or seven days a week. In between shifts I lazed about my tent reading a book, listening to music or writing. Every now and again I'd go for a swim in the motel pool or for a run. Then one night in the bar I got talking to a chopper pilot who worked mustering cattle and he told me he had a job in Cloncurry to fly to (just East of Mount Isa in the middle of Australia) and offered to take me along. It would be a six hour flight across Australian cattle country in which I would see wild horses, crocs, kangaroos and a variety of landscapes. The offer was too good to turn down so I spoke to my boss and said I had to leave him a few weeks early. He wasn't happy because their biggest week of the year was coming up and I was their only experienced bar and wait staff but he understood the opportunity and let me go on good terms. This set the trip in motion and gave me two days to prepare. I had three weeks before my flight from Sydney and decided to get a ride to the coast from Cloncurry and slowly hitch, camp and couch-surf my way down the East coast. The total trip would be about five thousand kilometres.

MONDAY 11th July (Katherine to Cloncurry)
I woke up at 6am, it was still dark and cold. I had my breakfast, brushed my teeth and in the darkness packed away my tent. I said goodbye to the one or two people at the hostel who were awake. I met Jamie - the pilot - at the motel, which was just a one minute walk from where I was staying, and waited while he finished his coffee, after which he drove us to the the hanger via his friend's house where he had left his gear and clothes. We pulled into the Katherine Helicopter Club and I saw a little bright yellow chopper sitting ready. We carried the bags to it and I stood waiting as he prepared the engine and fuel. It was maybe half an hour before I was strapped up next to him with my headset on looking around at all the switches and buttons and the rotar blades slowly beginning to sweep round. As they gathered pace he ran me through one or two basic and obvious safety rules and then said, "Ready?". He flicked a few switches, pulled on the joystick and in a light movement we hurtled upward and forward, gliding over the line of trees at the edge of the airfield, up and up. In seconds we were looking down on trees and rivers from a few hundred metres above the ground (450m above the ground, I think he told me). In the first ten minutes I saw a saltwater crocodile swimming along a winding river, I saw a group of sunbathing kangaroos, a wild boar and no end of wild horses and cattle. As we watched the initially sparse country pass us by we talked, me of my travels and he of his finding a job he loves. He had to sacrifice a lot to be able to do it - namely money and being at home with his wife and two children on a regular basis - but he had found his calling and nothing was going to stop him doing it. Over the trip, as we spoke, I saw similarities in our mindsets. We had a headwind for the first two hours of our trip so he had to set down early to top up the tank. As he began to descend we saw four wild horses charging through the long grass and between trees. "Get your camera out and film this", he told me. I did so and he began to chase them, getting lower and lower, until he found a clearing to land and put us down. The horses raced off a little further then stopped and watched us from a distance. We were next to a lake where maybe a hundred cattle where drinking and I took some pictures while he refuelled. When he was ready we carried on our way and reached the first planned stop where we had lunch with a junior pilot working in a service station taking tourists out to a little rock formation called 'The Lost City' (we flew over this and Jamie did a couple of spins around it). He told me helicopter pilots can charge $900 per hour, which means my flight would have cost me around $7000. After lunch we carried on and the landscape started to change as we crossed into Queensland. We stopped again on a remote cattle station which was sat in the middle of vast yellow plains which Jamie said was perfect cattle country. It looked how I'd expected the outback to look - the land so flat you could see the curvature of the earth, a pale cloudless blue sky and a beaming sun governing its dry kingdom. But the most beautiful part of the trip was saved for the last two hours of the trip as we passed over tree covered hills and valleys and deep blue lakes. We landed just as the sun was setting and were met by the man Jamie would be working with for the next few weeks. He took us to a pub where they bought me a steak on company credit and I bought them a few rounds of beers. At about ten they drove me to the service station just out of town where the truckies stopped on their way to the coast. I said my goodbyes and walked into the servo. There was just one truckie tucking into a burger and two girls behind the counter. I asked them if many truckies stopped over night but she said it wasn't common, that most of them would be sleeping by now. I thanked her and asked, if I had to, would it be ok to pitch my tent on the grass in the car park. She laughed, looked at me like I was mad but said it was no problem. From behind me the truckie said that the next day he would be heading to Brisbane if I wanted to join him. This would mean missing out a big chunk of the East Coast and leave me closer to Sydney than I would have liked but when he told me he wouldn't leave until the late morning I said I would consider try and find a ride to Townsville in the morning and if I had no luck I'd reconsider his offer when he was ready to go. I went outside, found a spot to put my tent which seemed out of the way and wouldn't have a truck drive over it in the night and went to sleep.

TUESDAY 15th July - WEDNESDAY 16th July (the road to Brisbane)
I stood for four hours that morning being totally ignored by grey nomads (retired Aussies in their 4WD cars and caravans in tow) who refused even to acknowledge me and occasionally being shouted and sworn at by passing tradies. This didn't do too much for my spirit, but I just sat on the roadside with my thumb up and my head in my book, Robinson Crusoe. I ate two apples and an orange, the last food in my bag, and sat and waited. It was a great relief when the truckie from the night before pulled up and asked if I liked the sound of Brisbane. I put my bag in his empty trailer and jumped in the front. I spent two days in this truck, almost nothing of significance happened other than seeing maybe a hundred kangaroos and running into four of them and the driver was like most other truckies; full of bullshit stories about backpackers girls they'd "rooted" in their cabin etc. etc. But beneath the machoism and immaturity he was a good guy. While a lot of the truckies I knew wouldn't have a problem cheating on their wives, this man had a true love for the woman waiting for him at home. He was a big fella and she too was apparently pretty big and he called her his "all weather girl"... she keeps him warm in winter and gives him shade in summer. Late on Wednesday night we rolled into a service station just out of Brisbane, we swapped numbers, I thanked him and stepped outside. I pitched my tent at the back of the servo and went to sleep with the sound of trucks hissing around me. Because I hadn't taken the coast road the hitch was reduced to 3200km to Brisbane and another 900km to Sydney, but 3000km in three days isn't bad!

THURSDAY 14th July - MONDAY 19th July (my lucky day on the Gold Coast)
I woke early in the morning with truck after truck driving past the spot where I was sleeping. I packed away my bag and tent under curious eyes from passing drivers. I brushed my teeth in the service station and asked for directions to a bus into town, which took me twenty minutes to find. This short walk gave me the first moment alone to really contemplate the last three days. It had been a whirlwind - from hanging above stunning landscapes to charging down highways and sleeping on roadsides. This excitement carried me onto the bus, but as soon as I stepped off and found myself in Brisbane city centre I immediately felt deflated. That feeling of going and going and reality suspended was gone and all I wanted was to be sitting in front of an unending stretch of bitumen again. The first hour I spent trying to find a place where I could charge my phone and laptop, for now I was again in the “real world” and needed to contact people. I went online and tried to find a place to stay on couch-surfing and caught up on some e-mails and messages. Then I bought some bread and sat on a bench in the sun to eat it. While I did so I got a call from a friend in Sydney who tried to persuade me to hitch down and meet him. Immediately the idea appealed, although I didn't really want to be in Sydney the next morning. He suggested going to Byron, staying there a while and then carrying on down. This sounded better and straight away I was up again, a smile beaming across my face and excitement welling up inside me. I got the bus to a place near the free-way just by the Gabba stadium but found myself in the worst place to get a ride. I was stood right before the on ramp to the highway south but there was nowhere for cars to stop. My only reprieve was that there were traffic lights. I stood there and hoped for the best. I kept my rucksack on, ready to jump into any car that stopped, just wanting to get on the highway. It took probably ten minutes for someone to stop. He pushed the door open and ushered me in. There was little space and I sat cramped in the seat with my rucksack and guitar on my lap but at least I was in. He could only take me twenty kilometres but I said it was enough. He dropped me in a place only a little better than where he picked me up from but again it took only a short time before I was off again. This ride took me to the Gold Coast but off from the main highway. There I waited a fair while as the night gathered and the wind crept up. I was cold but good humoured. I had a lot of waves and smiles and one person even thought me enough of a novelty to take a photo. I was just happy to be moving again and out of the city. After forty minutes of waiting I doubted I would get a ride and started eyeing up places to pitch my tent where it wouldn't be seen. Just then, I heard a voice behind me, over the music in my headphones, and a guy had stopped just a little further down the road. He introduced himself as Rohan and helped me with my bags. He was a young very Australian surfer looking guy with athletic build and tousled blond hair. He was wearing a bright orange shirt, making him a tradie. He said he could take me to the Gold Coast where he was going home after finishing work. It was a forty-five minute drive and we talked the whole way. He was a thirty one year old plumber, he'd travelled around Australia, Europe and Africa. He was with a girlfriend of six years and they'd lived in Ireland and England together before driving around Europe. She was now nearly seven months pregnant (the length of time I'd been in Australia) and they were just getting their heads around being parents. He still had a wandering heart, but a loving one too and he loved his girl and loved where he lived. He fished and surfed up and down this coast and he and his girlfriend often went on walks and drives in the national parks around them. As we reached Coolengatta, the town where he lived, he asked what I was planning to do that night. I told him I'd find a place to pitch my tent and carry on hitching the next morning but he cut me off and said I should stay with him and his girlfriend. So this I did. He drove us to their flat which was sat on a little creek in a quiet neighbourhood, led me in and went straight to the fridge and cracked open two beers. That night, his girlfriend quoted to us the following day, we drank twenty-six beers between us as well as some home-made whisky he had been given. We talked drunkenly and passionately all night, mostly about travelling and our designs for the future. He showed me some of his photos and I mine. His girlfriend, Jenea (I hope, if she reads this, that I'm spelling that correctly), was working that night and came in for her break at some point in the night. She barely seemed surprised to see a long haired bearded hitcher drunk in her kitchen, she was instantly warm and friendly. She stayed very briefly before heading back to work and Rohan and I carried on drinking and talking. She came back at two in the morning, Rohan and I were still drinking after four or five "last beers". We probably went to sleep at 2am, Rohan had work at 5:30 and I at 7:00. I still have no idea how he made it to work. I woke with a mighty hangover and struggled out of bed. Luckily the day was an easy one, we had to move furniture into two houses but half the day was spent driving between them. I was dropped back in Coolengatta at 5pm and Jenea drove me back to the house. There I met Stan, the Czech man that was staying with them. He'd worked with Rohan in England and they'd been good friends and he'd spent the last seven months in New Zealand and come over to visit them. When I arrived he'd been off walking and camping in a nearby national park. We had an easy night, watched TV and went to sleep early. The next morning we all woke up early and went for a drive through the mountains and walked around some waterfalls. Then we drove to the beach and back home. They'd planned a big gathering of best friends and family that night and people started arriving at 3pm. I met Rohan's best friend, his Irish girlfriend and a chunk of Jenea's family and we all went to a Spanish tapas bar called 'Bread and Butter' where they know the owner and get looked after. It was a good night, another drunken one, and I met some more good people. The next day I went to the beach with Rohan and Stan. Rohan and a friend went surfing while Stan and I walked up the beach and into town. We had an easy Sunday and watched 'The Proposition' that evening. The next morning Jenea drove Stan, me and one of her friends to Nimbin which was an hour inland from Byron. We stopped off at some waterfalls along the way and spent the afternoon wandering around the quirky hippie town. We drove through green mountains and valleys for two hours to Byron, where I promised Jenea I'd stop by again when I came back to Australia, wished Stan luck with his trip and was alone again. I was a little sad, I'd felt so happy and at home in that little corner of Australia. I'd loved the life those two had built for themselves. They'd both travelled a lot but had come home and lived on the beach, spending every spare minute outdoors - walking, fishing, surfing, partying with friends. They didn't have a lot in possessions but they had a lot of love for the world and each other. And more important than anything else - they were happy. I remember in our first drunken conversations Rohan had let slip some doubts about whether he was living his life the right way but I truly honestly look up to their way of life. I told him so and I hope he realised how sincere I was. Now I'm in Byron, a nice place but very touristy. I have to decide between meeting a friend in Sydney and having some wild nights in Kings Cross or hanging out here a few days and then slowly hitching my way down the coast, taking as much in as possible. Only tomorrow morning will tell where I will end up. As it should be.

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