Graham Parker was the unexpected guest speaker last Thursday at Rotary due to a power failure in Cowra!
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The planned guest speakers, Jenny Kelly and Derrian Walsh were intending to talk about their recent 'round Tasmania extravaganza' caravan trip with forty caravans and to show many pictures and events in the Apple Isle. However, the power failure stopped the electronics working and their talk has been delayed a few weeks - It will be worth the wait!
So Graham stepped in on short notice and entertained us (under the emergency club lighting) about an event in North Queensland.
Marcia's Trip to Town - An absolutely true story!!
Firstly, I need to set the background. I volunteered to work on an Aboriginal Art recording programme in far north Queensland which was being run by the University of Canberra with the support of the Commonwealth Government. This programme was promoted in the United States and people were prepared to pay to travel and work on the project. We were working on a bush site between Laura and Coen. Laura is 305 kilometres from Cairns with another 80 or so kilometres along the Coen road to the bush track turnoff. We were camped about 30 kilometres plus off the road. It is VERY REMOTE.
Being one of the few Australians I was asked to drive into Laura to collect some important mail and to obtain supplies. The Leader asked if anyone would like to accompany me on the trip and an American, by name Marcia, enthusiastically volunteered.
Off we set in a tried and true but vintage Land Rover that had been hired. Some 20 or so kilometres from camp the motor coughed and died. A search of the vehicle toolbox revealed a distinct shortage of tools - not a screwdriver or spanner. I decided that, as we were on a very defined track it would be safe to leave the vehicle and walk to the Coen - Laura road. I advised Marcia of our predicament and my decision to walk.
Marcia I said "bring your hat and water and let's go". Marcia promptly advised that she had bought neither. It was then that I looked at her feet - she was wearing white strappy sandals as we were "going to town".
Off we set. Several kilometres along the track we meet a herd of scrub cattle. Marcia was very brave she walked extremely close to my back and I'm almost certain had her eyes closed.
Without further encounters we reached the road. It was then that I had to advise Marcia that maybe a dozen vehicles a day may use this road and we may have a long wait. Maybe overnight! Luck was on our side for we soon heard an approaching vehicle. Into sight came a van carrying two people and their camping gear. Being in the outback he immediately stopped and asked us if we needed help and where was our car.
Having assured him that we almost certainly needed parts etc it was decided he would take us to Laura. The Aussie fellow was in his mid forties, red haired and in need of a shave. His companion was a young woman in her late teens or early 20's whom he addressed as "Mum". Four people and two seats was a problem but not for our rescuer.
Mum you ride in the back!
Now riding in the back meant lying and half sitting on the camping gear. Mum was distinctly unimpressed but, like a good Aussie wife, she crawled into the back. Marcia hopped up into the front seat. She was promptly told that she could not sit there as that was my seat, she had to sit on the engine cover between us. Away we go with two women in ill humour.
Now we are about 30 kilometres towards Laura when the van gives several coughs and stops- overheated. The fan belts are both off because of the small stones being thrown up from the gravel road. I am under the vehicle and our rescuer is using the spanners to tighten things. Mum and Marcia are standing looking - the atmosphere was difficult as Mum was still unamused.
It was on the second occasion of fan belt replacement that another vehicle stopped for assistance. Looking at the time I asked Marcia to go with these folk into Laura to get the mail and stores as they closed at 5pm. Marcia was very reluctant and I did not understand why but the woman in the second vehicle understood perfectly.
"It's alright Love! You will be perfectly safe and he's too old anyways" resolved the problem. So away went Marcia.
When we arrived in Laura, it was after 5pm, and Marcia is standing on the roadside. No mail and no supplies. She was apparently uncomfortable in the town. Marcia asked what were we going to do?
It was obvious that we had to stay in Laura overnight. Now Laura in the 1980's was a store, a few houses and a pub. The old Laura pub was galvanised iron, bush poles, hessian ceilings and one large bunk room for everybody.
"We are going to the pub and I don't want you to say a word. Just sit and drink your beer and don't speak" I asked. I don't drink beer was the retort. I assured her that in these circumstances she had to drink a beer. So into the pub we go and I order two beers.
After a few minutes one of the old regulars goes out to see what vehicle we arrived in. No car. This is duly conveyed to the other regulars who then summon the barman Matt. He is despatched with no subtlety to ask where we are from. I then explain that we from the Aboriginal Art expedition and we have broken down.
We are now included in to the regulars for another beer whilst the solution to our predicament is discussed. It was decided that Cliff was the best person as he knew about Land Rovers but Cliff had to be sent for as he was at home. Upon Cliff's arrival another beer was needed to bolster the expedition to the Land Rover. A cold meat pie was supplied for dinner. Marcia is looking unwell.
The expedition departed around 9pm - well lubricated. The petrol pump diaphragm had split so a piece of inner tube was fitted and off to town we all went. I still had to get the mail and the supplies.
Sleep was on any unoccupied bed in the bunkhouse but at least there were sheets and pillows. After a pub breakfast we collected the mail and stores and returned to camp around midday.
Marcia took to her bed. Her background was that she was a New Yorker, married to a surgeon, was an avid feminist and ran a studio for exclusively women artists. She quietly admitted that the Australian Outback really was a man's domain but could not understand why I had told her not to speak in the pub. I had to explain that, as true Aussie men, if we had asked for help it would have been unsuccessful, one had to approach the problem from an outback perspective. Intrigue.
So ends the story on Marcia's trip to town.