Sam s YearChapter 6 To William Creek to Marree
- 1 year ago
- 18
- 0
Sam's YearChapter 5: To William Creek; To Marree free porn video
Coober Pedy to William Creek was 170 klicks. William Creek to Marree was another 200. Could he do it on his thumb? He looked at his frequently folded and refolded map. It didn’t look like there was a decent road this side of the Birdsville track at Marree. And that was only sealed for part of its length.
Well, he’d shower and change and make his trek back to the laundromat. He’d pass the Greyhound office, too. But most likely they wouldn’t be helpful. He thought about Susan. He could go down to Adelaide and see her. He could visit his aunt and uncle and cousin, too. No. Not a good idea. But he’d phone Sydney. He pulled himself together, dressed, bundled his laundry, and set out.
The Greyhound agent was no help. Coaches went north to the Alice and south to Adelaide. The washing machines were no worse than they’d been three weeks earlier. Sam stopped at the Tourist Information Centre and learned that on Monday he could ride the Mail Run to William Creek.
“Where are you stayin’?”
“Radeka.”
“Pete c’n pick you up between 8:30 and nine.”
“I only want one way.”
“I only sell the ‘tour’.”
“Oh.”
“Name?”
Sam had decided not to use Hollister, lest the drug gang had picked up on it. “Sam Bunjil.”
“Right.” Sam paid. He’d fill in his time over the weekend.
“Is there a bookstore?”
“Underground Books. But they went outta business. You might try the ADRA.”
“ADRA?” [The Adventist Development and Relief Agency International is a humanitarian agency operated by the Seventh-day Adventist Church.]
“Thrift store. Bit past the Caltex.”
“Thanks.”
The thrift shop had several bookcases full of hard and soft covers, mostly old family Bibles and thrillers. It looked like lots of old Stephen King and Lee Child. But there was an Upfield and a paperback Aunt’s Story for 20 cents each. He bought them. After a bite he phoned Sydney, reporting on his location and that he was booked on the bus to William Creek on Monday. He told his mother that he was letting his hair grow. She said he was becoming a ronin [a samurai wanderer].
He began the White on Sunday morning. It seemed to be relating the story of Theodora Goodman, a lonely middle-aged woman who travels to France after the death of her mother, and then to America. At that point, Sam lost interest. It was too depressing. He went for lunch and then swapped White for Upfield. Sam’s grandfather was a “Bony” fan. This one, Bony Buys a Woman, seemed to take place near Lake Eyre.
The bus picked him up and it turned out that he was the sole passenger. “Ain’t the tourist season,” the driver (Peter?) told him. “Durin’ the hols I get six or eight. Can’t fit more in. Only eight ifn there are kids. Big church ladies, I only take five. No mail fer Nilpinna today. So’s we’ll go the shorter way to William Creek.”
Sam introduced himself, but once they were across the Stuart and on William Creek Road, an unsealed track, and past the dingo fence, the driver went into a narrative that sounded like a standard talk, largely about Anna Creek Station.
“The Anna Creek Station’s the largest in the world. It’s 23,677 square kilometers an’ thet’s a bit larger than Israel. The biggest in the US is the King Ranch an’ this is seven times their size. It’s been owned by the Williams since 2016. At first, from 1872 on, the Kidmans ran sheep. But its been in cattle for most of the time, cuz the dingoes et too many sheep. The drought ‘bout twenny years ago hit ‘em hard. Went from 16,000 head down to 1500; but they’re back up to near 17,000 agin. An’ they keep track by airplane and round ‘em up an’ herd ‘em on trailbikes. Got near 20 hands agin. Some o’em wimmen.”
A record number of young Australian women are signing up for jobs as cattle hands on vast outback farms.
Ranch owners are facing acute recruitment problems because so many young men are being lured into the booming mining industry.
Farmers are now reporting a surge of interest from women in their late teens and early 20s.
They are willing to give up jobs in the city for life in Australia’s dusty interior - many motivated by a TV show.
One of Australia’s largest pastoral operators, S Kidman & Company, said that almost two-thirds of its job applicants were women. [BBC World News, 9 June 2008]
We dropped the mail at Anna Creek. Peter had kept the chatter going for over an hour. “Gonna stop in a bit an’ piss. OK?”
“No problem. I’ll join you.”
“We need the rain. But it ain’t as bad as it’s bin.” They stopped just past a bridge over a dry gully. “Thet’s Anna Creek, ‘bout every three years there’s water in it. Every eight or ten it floods. Every two or three floods, the bridge needs fixin’.”
They each replaced their fluids, the driver a Coke, Sam a bottle of water. Soon there was a road off to the left: “Nilpinna Road.” Another 20 minutes and: “Under ten klicks. Oodnadatta Trail in a minnit.” There was a slight bump as they got onto the sealed surface. “Here y’are!” He looked at his watch: “Three hours an’ forty minutes! That’s good out here. I’ll drop the mail, get a bite and then go up the Trail to Oodnadatta, then back to Coober. Ought to get home by ten.”
The “Hotel” was a long, low building. There was a camel cart off to one side, but no camels. Sam guessed that he wasn’t the right sort of tourist. There was a saddled horse, standing where he was in the most shade. There was an older, bearded aborigine sitting on a light green bench near the door.
“Day-ee.”
“I see you.”
“Do you work here?”
“I am maintenance man.”
“Are you Diyari?”
“No. Arabana. You are west of Kati Thanda. Diyari are east of the lake.”
“Are they not related languages?”
“You know much.”
“Not enough. I have come to learn.”
“I see you have your swag. For how long will you stay?”
“How well do you see the future?”
“Well enough to know that you will take a room, wash, eat and come to talk more. I am Thomas.”
“Sam.”
“There is more.”
“Yes.”
Sam went inside where “just call me Trevor” told him where the rooms were and gave him a key. “Dinner’s at six.”
“Right.”
“Welcome to William Creek.”
“Thank you.”
It was still light when Sam found Thomas sitting on the bench. “May I join you?”
“Please.”
“Can you tell me about the origin of Kati Thanda?”
“I can tell you ‘a’ story. No man knows ‘the’ story. It may be that there is no one story. But you must tell me who you are.”
“I am Samuel Hollister. My father is a Carpet Python. His grandfather was Holli-man.”
“And you?”
“I am Bunjil.”
“I will tell you a story that Jennifer Isaacs tells. It is a story that uninitiated and women can hear.
An old woman was hunting and saw a huge kangaroo in the distance. Wilkuda, a young boy jumped out of her belly and chased the kangaroo to the west. When his spear finally struck it he thought it was dead and put it on his fire and went to sleep. When he awoke the kangaroo had gone. Wilkuda tracked the kangaroo for many days. As he travelled, his path crossed that of an old man with his dog. The kangaroo was finally killed with the help of the dog and Wilkuda gave the old man the meat for he only wanted the skin. Wilkuda took the skin back to the east and, east of Anna Creek, he threw the skin down. The skin then changed and became Kati Thanda. Wilkuda can still be seen as a boulder on the shore of the lake he made.
Haven
- 24.07.2021
- 10
- 0
