So last night Gary and I drove 170 km north up to Doolgunna Homestead, which is a "retired" station property - I think you can actually find it on Google maps. We went to collect Gary's caravan, which is a very cute (but roomy) old retro thing. Naturally we forgot to bring a torch, so I used my iPhone to provide light while Gary wrestled with the tow ball stuff (even in the outback, production manager skills come in handy). Gaz thinks I was paying attention while he explained the 12-volt lighting system and how he is going to hook up a regulator something something; I gazed at him attentively and made appropriate listening noises, but I was in fact mind-googling about how some 1950's curtain fabric would nicely coordinate with the original leatherette seating.
So, Doolgunna is no longer a "working station", but is looked after by CALM (Conservation & Land Management), the same humourless government body who won't let me keep pet camels. It is used as a camping base for prospectors, mine companies and travellers, so there are several little compounds of portable buildings, caravans and trailers dotted about the homestead itself. It was dark, hence no photos, but you could tell it was a very pretty place with lots of tree-lined creek crossings. The guys from RNI mining had all gone up to Fortnum mine camp, so we missed out on a cuppa around the campfire, but Jenny was home at the main house and we had a quick chat. She and her husband Langley have been the caretakers for the past four years and are about to head off around Australia with their caravan. There's no phone reception, and on the kitchen bench were lined up all kinds of radios, two ways and lord knows what. When it floods, they're cut off. As with most stations, there's an air strip if they have to get the flying doctor or when rich mining execs decide to pop in. I believe there are often these kinds of caretaking jobs about, what a great experience it would be!
Gary had taken the caravan up there when he was doing their track work with the grader a few months ago, and his boss Tony said he could just have it for his own personal use, so Gary's going to do a couple of repairs next week and then take it out to our bush compound for George to live in. I hope he likes it! Otherwise it'll be a quick night-time visit with the teatowel and the axe.
I just love how people live in anything out here - you really can just set up camp wherever you like, for as long as you like. I am always startled by how many people we run into in the bush, hundreds of km's from anywhere, just camping or living, going into Meeka once every few weeks for supplies, just enjoying the space, prospecting, exploring, doing their own thing.
I knew I'd become an "outback gal" when I didn't blink at the distance - it just seemed like a short hop. I made us some sandwiches and packed cold drinks for dinner, and we cruised up the highway as if we were just popping out to Ikea. The sunset! The stars! It awes me every time. The last rays of the sun were hitting the granite boulders at one of the breakaways; the rocks literally looked like they were glowing a bright red-orange in the shadowed pastels of the bush. Two magnificent wedgetail eagles swooped off as we sped towards their roadkill roo; as we passed, they were about twenty feet away. They always give you this look of "Get out of that car and I'm gonna kick your ass. Then I'm gonna feed your eyeballs to my friend here."
At night the road trains are lit up like mobile discos. There's not as much radio chat at night; just the odd weary warning, everyone adrift with their night thoughts. "Cattle up ahead mate." "Ta cheers mate." Every fifty or so km's you pass a pullover area where the oversize road trains are parked up with the odd grey nomad caravan lurking among them, everyone having a cuppa or a beer before bedtime and another day of driving into the long, forever sky.
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