Time is the Enemy.
Chapter 13
Robert accelerated away from the Timber Creek Motel, the big old Ford V8 make the noise that only a big V8 can make. The weather was fine, with blue skies as far as he could see, but there was a lot of water about.
“Stay on the bitumen, Robert,” Robert said to himself, as there was a lot of water in the gutters along the side of the road, and he had no doubt that the ground would be very soft.
The country side looked different, the red dirt was a different colour red, darker, and the trees and bushes were a different colour green, it made the desert feel softer, not as threatening. There was water laying everywhere, large puddles, small lakes, but they were a rusty red, dirt brown colour, no nice blue areas of water.
There was a bit of traffic on the road, lots of trucks going in the opposite direction, Pantech trucks, fuel trucks, no doubt resupplying town like, Timber Creek. Lots of Grey Nomads, driving four wheel drives, towing caravans, travelling in both directions. Like Robert, they had been stuck in one place for days, and were now able to move, and so that is what they were doing, moving.
Robert drove along at around one hundred kilometres per hour, a bit slower than normal due to the road conditions, but also due to the traffic, more often than not, he found himself following a Grey Nomad.
In some places, the heavy rain had washed mud onto the bitumen, and these would come up, ‘out of the blue’, making for some excitement, as the big old Ford would take on a mind of its own, when hitting these muddy spots.
Robert’s old friend, ‘Pain’, dropped in for a visit about an hour and an hour into the day, but it was just about impossible to pull over, given how wet and boggy everything off the bitumen was, so he waited for a rest area.
It took another half an hour before the Sat Nav started telling Robert that there was a rest area just a few kilometres down the road, so he slowed, but as he approached, he could see that there was a four wheel drive towing a caravan blocking the entrance. Standing at the rear of the caravan was a grey haired, Grey Nomad, so Robert pulled up, wound down the passenger side window, and asked, “do you have a problem?”
“We don’t, but there are two other four wheel drives with caravan in tow, bogged in the rest area, so I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” said the Grey Nomad.
“Do you need a hand?” asked Robert.
“There’s plenty of use here, so I think we’ll be fine,” replied the Grey Nomad.
“OK, good luck,” replied Robert, as he drove off.
A few more kilometres further along the road, and Robert court up to a camper van, a camper van that he recognised, it was Gail. As he got closer, he could see the straight road stretched out in front of him, and with nothing coming, he dropped back a gear, and accelerated, overtaking her. Robert blasted the horn as he draw level, and looked across at her, she waved, and he waved back, before accelerating away. The big V8 was on full song as he changed into fifth gear, he continued gathering speed as the Speedo climbed, reaching one hundred and sixty kilometres per hour, before he eased off.
Robert’s old friend, ‘Pain’, was giving him an ear full, but there was nowhere to pull over, so he just had to push through it, until he reached Katherine.
“It’s only half an hour away, then you’ll get yours, just you wait,” said Robert, to himself, he then started to sing, “just you wait Henry Higgins, just you wait.” Which was a reverence to the movie, ‘My Fair Lady’, he smiled, and just for a few moments, his old friend, ‘Pain’, was gone.
Slowing for the sixty kilometres per hour sign, on the outskirts of Katherine, Robert had finally arrive, the last half hour, or so, had been a long half hour, as his old friend, ‘Pain’, was well and truly making his presents felt. Robert was keen to find something to eat, so he could take some pain killers, so he pulled into a garage. He filled the big old Ford with petrol, bought a meat pie, parked the car, and ate the pie, he then took two Panadol.
“Let’s see how you like them apples,” said Robert, to his old friend, ‘Pain’.
Robert walked around the poor old Falcon a few times, in the hope it would help ease the pain, or at least take his mind off it, it didn’t. He then sat on the front mud guard of the big old Ford, and ate a few biscuits.
As Robert sat there, he found himself thinking about murder, how he could murder his old friend, ‘Pain’, get rid of him forever. What a wonderful thought, no more, ‘Pain’, in his life, oh joy and happiness, but there was no way to murder, ‘Pain’. Pain killers didn’t do what their name suggests, pain killers just hide it away for a while, and a short while at that.
“Someone should, ‘do’, the pill manufacturers under the trade description act for false advertising,” said Robert to himself.
The sound of a horn blasting broke Robert’s concentration, he looked up to see a camper van drive by, it was Gail, she flashed he lights at him and waved, he waved back.
Robert’s old friend, ‘Pain’, was fading into the back ground, as the Panadol took effect, so with Robert feeling a bit better, he climbed back into the big old Ford, and made his way through Katherine.
Katherine is a largish town, very much an outback town, a larger version off the other outback towns Robert had been through on this trip, the architecture, the lay out, the dryness all said, outback town.
Coming to a ‘T’ junction, Robert turned right onto the Stuart highway, and the main street of Katherine. It was odd to be surrounded by so much civilisation, traffic, shops, people, the hustle and bustle of a town centre, but it wasn’t for long, a few kilometres later, and Robert was back in the desert.
As Robert changed gear, and the big old Ford settled down on, one hundred and ten kilometres per hour, he realised that, Gail would off turned left back at that ‘T’ junction, and headed towards Darwin. So he was unlikely to see her again, which made him sad.
Now heading south, the landscape started changing again, back toward desert, the trees and bushes started getting smaller, and fewer, and the landscape just started looking harsher.
From Katherine, Robert headed towards Daly Water, which was a very small town. Now, to call Daly Waters a town is perhaps over stating things a bit, it does have a Pub, a Garage, and a Caravan Park, but no Motel. It is a strange place, littered with old air craft parts, being used as garden decoration, not small parts, large parts. Bits of air craft fuselage, helicopter bodies, bits of plans wings, are everywhere around the town.
Turning of the Stuart Highway towards Daly Waters, Robert passed an Air Field before arriving on the outskirts of the town, it was the later part of the afternoon. Robert found the Caravan Park without problem, he couldn’t miss it as the road goes right through the Caravan Park. It was surprisingly large, given the size of the town, in fact the Caravan Park took up about half the town size. They only had a few camp sites available, which again surprised Robert.
After chatting to the Caravan Park Owner, it turned out, that there was some sort of air craft festival on, hence the Caravan Park being just on full.
Robert found his camp site, parked the big old Ford, pitched his tent, and settle down for the night. The Caravan Park was full of big four wheel drives, and large caravans, talk about going on holidays, and taking your house with you, these things were something else. They were luxurious, everything that opened and shut, bathroom, kitchen, double beds, awning on the side, it’s not really camping. Very different to Robert’s poor old Falcon, two man tent, fold out chair and single gas burner, but he would have it any other way.
“Who would want to drive for thousands of kilometres in a four wheel drive, towing a caravan,” said Robert to himself, he then added, “not this little brown duck.”
“Whatever floats your boat, I guess,” Robert continued talking to himself, he then added, “their probably sitting in their caravan, thinking, ‘what an idiot, driving a two door Falcon, camping in a two man tent, sitting on a fold out chair, who would want to do that?’ That is what some would be thinking,” he paused for a moment and then added, “it’s there life, who am I to criticize?”
With so many people, and such a small town, Robert did not much like the idea of trying to get a meal at the Pub, so he opted for heated up tinned stew. As he sat next to his tent, on a fold out chair, heating his tin of stew over a single gas burner a Grey Nomad couple walked by.
“Hi,” said the male Grey Nomad, who looked in his seventies, tall, thin, and fit, he looked like the type of bloke, that would ride a bush bike or jog, may be even go to the Jim.
“Hi, how are you,” replied Robert.
“They serve a good meal at the Pub,” said the female Grey Nomad, she, like her partner, looked fit and healthy.
“I thought it might be a bit crowded, so it’s stew out of a tin for me,” replied Robert.
“Been on the road long?” asked the male Grey Nomad.
“A few months, I have lost track a bit, I’m working on a bucket list” replied Robert, who then asked, “what about you?”
“We’re in the middle of a month long trip, from Adelaide to Darwin and back,” replied the male Grey Nomad.
“You have been camping in a tent for two months?” asked the female Grey Nomad, with a degree of horror in her voice.
“No, ninety nine percent Motels, only camp when there is no other option,” replied Robert, who paused for a moment before adding, “I like my comforts too much to camp any more than I have to.”
“That must cost a bit,” said the female Grey Nomad.
“I’m not money obsessed,” replied Robert.
“We are travelling in a LandCruiser, and a Jayco caravan,” said the male Grey Nomad.
“Sound great, but I like my comforts too much,” replied Robert.
The Grey Nomads looked a bit confused, the male Grey Nomad then said as they both walked away, “have a good night, and I hope the rest of your trip goes well.”
Robert smiled to himself, knowing that he had just told the Grey Nomads that he didn’t much like caravanning, but they hadn’t realised it.
This was a first for Robert, camping alone in a Caravan Park, it was very different to camping out in the never, never, or even at a camp site in the middle of know where. There were lots of people about, making noise, moving about, there were lights everywhere, it made sleeping impossible in the early part of the night. So Robert just lay in his tent and waited, waited for sleep.
The sun woke Robert early the next morning, so after a light breakfast of a cup of soup, he packed everything into the car, trying to be as quite as possible. It didn’t not take long, before Robert was all packed, and ready to go, so it was still early, when he was ready to go. Robert knew that starting the big V8 at six in the morning would not be very popular, so he waited for a while, he started to hear and see people stirring at about six thirty, so he turned the key.
The big V8 burst into life, and if anyone were still asleep, then they weren’t any more, Robert put the car into first gear, and got out of there as quickly as he could. One Grey Nomad, that was up and about, smiled and waved as Robert drove past, as if to say, “thanks, good on you, mate, now I don’t need to be quite anymore.”
A few kilometres down the road, Robert turned right, back onto the Stuart Highway, he was still heading south toward Tennant Creek.
The road was straight, the landscape was desert, and Robert had a long way to go. Travelling at around the speed limit of one hundred and ten kilometres per hour, Robert cruised along, with the sound system turned up loud, but he couldn’t relax. The traffic on the Stuart Highway was heavy, considering where he was, four wheel drives towing caravans were everywhere. It was like he was part of some sort of Grey Nomad convention, they were endless, one after another.
Robert did not bother overtaking them as there would be another just a few hundred metres future down the road, so he just sat around three hundred metres back from one and cruised along.
Road trains going the other way were a bit unsettling, the caravans would shack as the trucks went by, as did the big old Ford. Robert was well and truly in the outback, but it did not feel that way, as there were so many people about, he just did not feel very isolated.
Pulling into the Pamayu Road House around mid morning, Robert filled both the big old Ford with petrol, as well as his jerry cans. He had to line up to fill the car as there were so many Grey Nomads about. If they were rabbits or locust, the Government would declare a State of Emergency, and call in the army to eradicate them. After filling the car he parked it under a tree, ate a meat pie, and walked around the car a few times, but he couldn’t rest for long as it was a big day, and he had to keep moving.
Back on the road, and the big old Ford was running well, Robert was feeling refreshed after a bit of a break as he drove alone, following a camper van, one of those large camper vans, based on a small truck. The Speedo was telling Robert, that he was travelling at one hundred and five kilometres per hour, but the Sat Nav was telling him that he was doing, one hundred and ten kilometres per hour. This was no surprise to Robert, as he knew the Speedo, and the Sat Nav didn’t match, he noticed it on the first day of this trip. He took the Sat Nav to be accurate as it worked via a satellite, where as the Speedo worked via the gear box, and with a car as old as the big old Ford, who knows what might have been changed. Robert new that the gear box was from a later model falcon, and that would be enough to make the Speedo inaccurate.
Robert became lost in the music, as he followed along behind the camper van, lost in his own little world, reliving a time when he was young, healthy, and had everything to live for, a time when anything was possible. The Sat Nav brought him back to the real world when it said, “turn left in five hundred metres, sign post, Barkly Highway.”
Robert took his foot off the accelerator, and let the car slow, he then changed gear, down to fourth, the camper van in front of him continued straight on, while Robert changed gears again, down to third. He then turned left, through a ninety degree corner, onto the Barkly Highway, and accelerated up through the gear box. He was now heading east, towards Queensland, there was no traffic in front of him, and nothing behind him.
It had been a long day, and he still had a long way to go, he was in a race with the sun, which was now behind him. During this trip he had tried to only drive during the day, not to say he had never driven at night, it was just not something he would plan to do.
After about an hour and a half, Robert saw a sign, it was another State Boarder, it read, ‘Welcome to Queensland’, there was an area to pull over near the sign, so he did. With the big old Ford parked in front of the sign, Robert took a picture.
“That will make a good picture on my Face Book page,” said Robert to himself, as he walked over to the car, and sat on the front mud guard and ate a biscuit. His old friend, “Pain’, had kept his distance today, much to Robert’s relieve, and hear he was, not that far from his destination, and, ‘Pain’, was still nowhere to be seen.
The sun was getting low in the sky, so Robert climbed back into the big old Ford, and continued the race, which he still felt confident of winning, but not by much, it would be dusk by the time he arrived in Camooweal. He quickly found the only Motel in town, and booked in, it was an old Motel, but it would do, as Robert was too tired to care.
After a bit of a rest, Robert walked the few hundred metres down the road to the Pub, all Pubs were starting to look like each other now, as Robert had been in so many that he had lost count, not that he was counting in the first place. This one was a bit different, built from corrugated iron, concrete floor, it was very, ‘out back’. After ordering his meal, he sat at a table, and drank his orange juice, sitting at the next table were two local Tradies.
Robert couldn’t help but hear their conversation, the older one said to the younger one, “did you see that big two door Falcon drive through town earlier.”
“Yer, it looked like someone was using it for a trip, can you believe that?” asked the younger Tradie.
“They were a pile off shit, a mate of mine had one, real pile of crap,” said the older Tradie.
“What’s wrong with a good four wheel drive?” said the younger Tradie.
“If I was going to do a big trip, I’d drive a LandCruiser,” said the older Tradie.
“No, I drive a Patrol,” said the younger Tradie.
“I better be getting home to the misses,” said the older Tradie, as they both stood up, and walked out of the Pub.
Robert smiled to himself, the big old Ford certainly attracted attention, both positive, and negative, some loved it, some hated it. After eating his meal, Robert wondered back to his Motel, he was too tired to play around with video cameras, so he went straight to bed.
The next day was another fine sunny day, not a cloud in the sky, after filling the car with petrol, Robert pointed the big old Ford east, towards Mt Isa. The country side had changed in the last few hundred kilometres, desert had given way to grass, green grass, real cattle country.
It was odd, but Robert found that he felt more relaxed driving through grass land, as against desert, it made no sense as the road conditions were much the same, straight flat roads. But there was something about the green, it was softer, not as harsh as the red dirt, it was less threatening.
There was less traffic on the Barkly Highway, nowhere near as many Grey Nomads and no road trains at all, only the occasional truck. About an hour along the road to Mt Isa, Robert turned left, the sign post read, Gregory, he was now heading into the Guff country, still very flat, and the road was still very straight.
Robert encountered little to no traffic as the big old Ford lumbered along, slowly ticking the kilometres away, and slowly eating away at the distance to his next bucket list filming location.
Much to Robert’s surprise, after only twenty kilometres, the road become a dirt road, he was not expecting a dirt road, but it was in good condition, so it did not impact on anything much, but it did mean travelling at a slower speed. It was nice to be back on a dirt road, there is something about driving on dirt roads that adds to the driving experience. Robert had to concentrate more driving on dirt roads, and this help keep him awake but it also made the time pass quicker. Driving on straight bitumen roads at high speed might get you to where you’re going quickly, but not with much fun.
After something like fifty kilometres, the dirt road ended, and the road became a narrow bitumen road, the type of road that, if someone comes the other way, you have to put two wheels in the dirt in order to pass. Robert only had to do that on three occasions as there was next to no traffic travelling along this road.
It was just on lunch time as Robert pulled up at a ‘T’ junction, to get to Gregory he needed to turn left, but his overnight destination was to the right. Gregory was only about a kilometre to the left, and there was a Pub there so he decided to go into Gregory for lunch. There was not a lot at Gregory, the Pub, a few houses, and that was that, not even any petrol.
Robert pulled up outside the Pub, it all looked quite, so he got out and walked towards the Pub, there was a sign, it read, ‘closed’. Robert walked back to the car, moved it back down the road a hundred metres or so and parked under a large tree. He then made himself a peanut butter sandwich, sat on the front mud guard, and ate it. He had a few jerry cans of petrol in the boot but he felt confident that he had enough petrol in the tank to get him to his destination, which was, Four Ways. After spending around half an hour in Gregory, Robert climbed back into the big old Ford, and drove back the way he had come, but only for a kilometre or so. He pasted the road that he came in on, and then pointed the poor old Falcon in the direction of Four Ways.
Driving along, Robert found himself wondering just how places got named, some were as plain as day, Gregory must of been named after someone called Gregory, but Four Ways, how did that get its name?
The country side was very green, long grass with small scrubby bushes, here and there, and the road was no longer a straight road disappearing into the distance, it wondered about a bit, not sharp corners, but not straight.
Arriving in Four Ways around mid afternoon, Robert filled the big old thirsty Ford with petrol at the only garage in town, he then headed to the only Motel in town. Robert court up on his video down loading, and his Face Book page, he charged all his cameras, and then put them back into the big old Ford, he got all that done, and still had time to just sit and reflect.
Four Ways reminded Robert of Gregory, they looked very similar in style and architecture, but then, outback towns were all starting to look the same to Robert. He found himself looking forward to the next few days, as the country side would be changing, as would the towns, he would be saying goodbye to the outback, for a while at least, and hello to the coast.
The Motel was a Hotel/Motel so Robert did not have far to walk for dinner that night, just across the car park. With only two or three houses in town, there weren’t too many locals in the Pub, in fact, Robert couldn’t see any. The Pub seemed to derive most of its business from travellers, Grey Nomads and the like. Other than Robert, there were only six other patrons, all of them looked very much like Grey Nomads.
The Motel room had a TV, but no TV channels as such, but it was hocked up to some sort of streaming service, Robert spent a long time searching through its programs, but after an hour of searching he gave up on the idea and went to bed.
A new day, and yet another day on the road, driving the big old Ford, Robert drove out of town, heading in a northerly direction, his first stop would be Normanton, for lunch. Good bitumen road all the way, Robert just cruised along at the speed limit, give or take, along the way he saw a sign that read, ‘caution road trains’, but he did not see any.
As Robert got closer to Normanton, the Sat Nav started telling him to turn right, but if he wanted to go into Normanton he would have to turn left for a few kilometres. Arriving in Normanton just on lunch time, Robert slowed for the sixty kilometre per hour signs, changed down a gear, and then kept his eyes open for a garage. He crossed an old railway line, and then only a few hundred metres later, he found the only garage in town, he pulled in, and filled the poor old Falcon with petrol.
Driving a short distance further down the road, Robert found the Pub, where he purchased some lunch, a pie and chips, with an orange juice to wash it down. He didn’t stay long, even though he wanted to, as he needed to keep moving, otherwise he would freeze up. It was a fine line that Robert walked, between moving too much, and not moving enough, do too much of either, and that old friend, ‘Pain’, would drop by for a visit.
Robert said to himself, “come on, this is not getting it done.”
He got up and walked out of the Pub, and over towards his car, there was an older man standing next to it, older than Robert.
“Is this yours, mate,” said the Old Man.
“Yes,” replied Robert, knowing he was about to get an offer to buy it or hear a story about how he use to own one.
“I use to own one of these, what a car, what a bird magnet, this brings back memories I can tell you,” said the Old Man, who then added, “can you take my picture standing next to it?”
“Sure, no problem,” replied Robert.
The Old Man handed Robert his phone, and then walked over, and stood next to the big old Ford. Robert took a number of photos before saying, “would you like to sit in it?”
“Yes please,” replied the Old Man, as he opened the door, and sat in the driver’s seat.
Robert took a few more photos, before the Old Man climbed out of the car, Robert handed him his phone.
“Thanks so much, I can’t wait to show them to my wife, we met while I owned mine,” said the Old Man, who then continued, “it was our wedding car.”
“Good memories,” replied Robert.
“Great memories, great memories, you know, my brother wrote it off, just out of town, while I was on my honey moon,” said the Old Man, as he turned, and walked away.
Robert opened the door of the poor old Falcon, and was about to get in when the Pub owner came out of the Pub, and approached Robert.
“Was old George talking to you about your car?” asked the Pub Owner.
“I don’t know is name, but yes he was talking about the car,” replied Robert, he then added, “he just wanted some pictures off him and the car, he is just going home to show his wife.”
“He lives that way,” said the Pub Owner, as he pointed in the opposite direction to where the Old Man had walked, he then continued, “he’s going to the Cemetery to show his wife.”
“I see, that’s sad,” replied Robert.
The Pub Owner turned, and walked back towards the Pub, while Robert climbed into the big old Ford, started it up and drove away.
Robert drove back along the road that he came in on, he crossed the old railway line, then the he passed the sixty kilometre signs, where he accelerated and changed into fifth gear. Only a kilometre or so later, the Sat Nav told him to turn left in five hundred metres, he slowed, changed down through the gear box, and then turned left, the sign post read, Croydon.
With the sound system turned up loud, Robert headed east, with the sun high in the sky, and the road straight, stretching out into the distance. It was just on two in the afternoon when Robert pulled into Croydon, he stopped in the main street, under a large tree, got out and stretched his legs, in the hope he could fend off his old friend, ‘Pain’.
After walking around the car few times, Robert climbed back into the poor old Falcon and drove off. Only a few hundred metres further down the road, he followed the Sat Nav instructions, and turned left. Once out of the town area he sped up, changed into fifth gear, and pointed the old Ford towards Georgetown.
Still heading east, with the sun at his back, Robert continued travelling towards Georgetown. It seemed a long way to Georgetown, but it wasn’t that far, may be one hundred and fifty kilometres, but it just seemed that way to Robert. About half way there, Robert crossed the Gilbert River, it way a wide river, and much to Robert’s surprise, it had water in it. The bridge was made from concrete, it was narrow, and not that far off the water.
Robert arrived in Georgetown late in the afternoon, booked into the Motel, and lay on the bed for a while. The while turned into a long time as he fell asleep, and didn’t wake till just after nine, he made himself a cup of soup, watched a bit of bad TV till late, and then went to bed. Broken sleep patterns are never a good thing, as Robert had a lot of trouble falling asleep, he was still staring at the clock at one thirty in the morning.
Robert woke a bit late the next morning, and was slow to get on the move, it was well after eight thirty before he drove out of the Motel, and by the time he filled the big old Ford with petrol it had gone nine as he drove out of town. He crossed the Etheridge River, just after passing the sixty kilometres per hour signs, another long narrow concrete bridge, the river was dry, not a drop of water to be seen, only sand.
Just like the day before, and the day before that, Robert drove along through scrubby bush land, and long grass, kilometre after kilometre, hour after hour.
Around two hours into the day, Robert came up to a ‘T’ junction, the Sat Nav was telling him to turn left, not long after that Robert found himself feeling a bit off, he couldn’t put his finger on it, he just felt, ‘not quite right’, so when he saw a sign saying, ‘Forty Mile Scrub Rest Area’, he pulled over.
Robert parked the Big old Ford in the shade of a large old tree, got out of the car, and sat at a picnic table. He drank some water, and ate some biscuits, and then just sat there watching nature at work. After a while he started to feel better, may be, it was the heat, or may be the lack of sleep, or may be because he had not eaten enough, or it could of been the fact that he had not been drinking enough, in the end it was probably all off the above. He was now feeling fine, but not in much of a hurry to get back on the road.
“What if I drop dead out here, in the middle of nowhere?” asked Robert of himself, he then added, “would it matter, here or at home, I would still be dead.”
A Magpie flow down out of a nearby tree, landing on the ground about three metres from Robert, and started to sing.
“So you want to put your two cents worth in do you?” asked Robert, the Magpie stopped singing and just looked at Robert.
“So, what’s this, the evil eye or something?” asked Robert, as the Magpie started pecking around at the ground.
“There you go, ignore me, I’ve had my share of that over the years, what I have to say is not important,” said Robert, the Magpie stopped pecking at the ground and looked straight at him.
“Sorry, just ignore me, I’m a bit, ‘you know’, today,” said Robert, the Magpie turned it back on him and started pecking around at the ground again.
“I didn’t mean it literary,” said Robert, the Magpie turn back around, looked at Robert and started singing again.
“That is your advice, sing your way through life,” said Robert, while the Magpie continued to sing. Robert said nothing for a few moments, he just listened to the Magpie.
“You know, that’s what I’ve been doing all my life, singing my way through life, not literary, more metaphorically, said Robert, he paused for a moment, and then continued. “I’ve just been drifting along on a raft, not trying to steer it, not trying to paddle in any direction, just letting it drift with the currents. And what has that got me? Here I am, in the middle of nowhere, talking to a Magpie.”
The Magpie stopped singing, and flow up into the tree, “sorry mate, I didn’t mean it like that,” said Robert, as he looked up at the Magpie sitting on a branch of the tree.
Robert watched as some Grey Nomads flashed by driving their four wheel drive towing a caravan.
“You know, sometimes it feels like I have waisted my life, I just don’t know where the time went,” said Robert, as the Magpie flow back down to the ground, landing only a few metres from him, it walked about for a moment before looking straight at him.
“One minute I was a young bloke, and then all of a sudden, I have my old friend, ‘Pain’, in my ear, telling my all about it, said Robert, he paused for a moment, just looking at the Magpie, before adding, “It’s gone so fast, and here I am, the race is just about run, it’s all over, Red Rover, all over bar the shouting, the fat lady is on stage and the music has started.”
The Magpie started to sing, “now you’re just taking the piss,” said Robert.
“OK, I get it, I hear you, it’s done now, I can’t change it, make the best of it, I hear what you’re saying,” said Robert, as the Magpie stopped singing, and pecked around in some leave litter, finding a insect of some kind, and eating it whole.
“Alright, I get it, you don’t have to labour the point, I need to get on with it,” said Robert, the Magpie flow up onto the big old Ford’s bonnet and started to sing.
“You know, you should set up shop as a councillor, or therapist, all you need is a brass shingle or a plaque, fix it that tree, and you’re in business,” said Robert, as he watched the Magpie walking across the bonnet of the car.
“I know my obligation, and I think I have exactly what you want,” said Robert, as he stood up, and walked to the back of the big old Ford, and opened the Boot. After rummaging around for a moment he said, “here it is.”
Walking back to the Picnic table, and sitting down, Robert had a small package in his hand, it was wrapped in butcher’s paper, he looked over at the Magpie, and then unwrapped the package.
“I bought this Devon the other day, with the intention of making a sandwich with it, but I never did, so maybe you would like it,” said Robert.
Robert broke the Devon into small pieces, and then throw some on the ground, in front of the car, the Magpie did not look to impressed, but flow down to have a look. It pecked at one piece of Devon, before then eating it, the Magpie seemed to like it, as it then ate more.
“Thank you very much,” said Robert, he then added, “one more thing.”
Robert walked to the back of the big old Ford, and looked around in the boot, and then came back with a piece of paper and a marker pen.
“I don’t have a Brass plaque, so this will have to do,” said Robert, as he started writing on the paper. After a short while he held the piece of paper up to show the Magpie, it read in large print.
Magpie Therapy
No appointment necessary
Payment with food, by the hour
(meat preferred)
“What do you think?” asked Robert, the Magpie fluffed it’s feathers.
“It’s the best I can do,” said Robert, as he walked back to the rear of the big old Ford, got some Gaffa tape, and returned to the Picnic table. He then Gaffa taped the piece of paper to the table.
“You know, that could catch on, ‘Magpie Therapy’, sounds like some sort of new age fad, you know the sort of thing, people going away for the weekend for some, ‘Magpie Therapy’. They could sit around in a garden listening to Magpie songs, and have group therapy, talking with a big stuffed Magpie,” said Robert.
The Magpie flow up into the tree, and as it did, Robert said, “OK, it needs some work, but you get the idea.”
Robert waved at the Magpie, and said, “thanks mate, look after yourself,” as he climbed into the big old Ford and drove away.
With the music turned up loud, and the big old Falcon on song, Robert continued on his journey, he had lost a bit of time talking with the Magpie, so he needed to put some kilometres behind him. After a few more hours of driving, Robert found himself on the outskirts of Atherton.
It was well after lunch, and Robert needed to eat, but he was also short on time, so he pulled into a Road House, filled the car with petrol, then sat in the Road House, ate two meat pies, washing them down with an orange juice. He then got back on the road, pointing the big old Ford towards Port Douglas.
The country side had changed, the scrubby grass lands had been replaced with green farm land, Robert was no longer in the outback, there was more of everything, houses, traffic, people.
Robert pushed on, the big old Ford ticking of the kilometres, one by one, the roads were no longer straight, stretching out in front of him, they now twisted and turned, as they wondered through the farm land.
As the afternoon dragged on, Robert got closer and closer to his destination, but the distances between towns was smaller in this part of the world, this slowed his progress, as he was forever slowing down, as he drove through towns.
With the sun getting low in the sky, Robert finally arrived in Port Douglas, it wasn’t quite what he was expecting, the name implied some sort of industrial hub, may be, it once was, but not now, now it’s an up market sort of place. The first few Motels Robert tried, wanted a small fortune for a room, four or five time the amount he had been paying during this trip. Even the up market Motel he stayed at in Broome was vastly cheaper, he had stay there for some time while the car was being serviced, and the bill was less than for one night in Port Douglas.
After a bit of shopping around, Robert found a Motel, that charged a more reasonable price, and booked in.
He had made it, all the way across the country, from Damper to Port Douglas, driving a poor old Falcon. This was the filming location for the movie, ‘Travelling North’. It remained to be seen, if any of the filming location, still existed.
Copy Right Jim Pope 2025
www.youtube.com@jimpope9410