Walk across Australia by David Mason

Author:David Mason
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rosenberg Publishing
Published: 2014-03-05T05:00:00+00:00

Poeppel Corner.

We arrived at Poeppel Corner near 11.30, or at 11, South Australian time. I took some photos and we moved across the salt of Lake Poeppel where our shadows trailed behind us and onto the French Line. We soon came across fresh camel sign. There, in the middle of the track a number of camels had settled for the night. I counted four discrete piles of dung. By the length of the impression in the sand, of forelegs and the end of hind legs, at least two were much, much bigger than Kabul. The spheres of dung were rounded walnuts and still soft. Camel urine still stained the red sand and was of great interest to Kabul and the others who sniffed and nuzzled the damp dust. As for me, I gripped the rifle tighter.

Before I hit the swag I forced myself to have another weak brew of coffee. As I sat on the feed tin tipping the fluid into my body to make my cells swell, I reflected on the quietness of the desert. Where were the night birds and the crickets? If I listened carefully I could hear the crackling and sighs of the fire, water against the side of the billy sizzling, and the digestive vegetable murmurings and burblings of Kashgar and Kabul close at hand.

Chloe was a little further away. As the birth of her calf drew nearer she seemed to be getting crankier, more inclined to curl her lip at me and even hiss with displeasure. I even caught her moving her body preparing to kick me with a hind leg. Camel training taught me that a kick from a camel was not something to be taken lightly. I could be winded if I was lucky. Anything else I would have to manage as best I could. What to do if Chloe calved while we were in the desert? It seemed that we did not have time to stop while the calf grew strong enough to accompany us. I again told myself I would worry about that when it happened.

When all the camels were out on long lines, browsing, burping, rolling and farting, I went for a short walk, just a few metres away over the crest of a dune, and sat down. I felt the warmth of the sand wrap itself around my now bony backside as I settled into the land. I let gravity take the heels of my boots into the sand and the grains stuck to what little moisture remained on my hands. Just then it was easy to imagine the land opening up and taking me to its heart. For a breath or two I even expected it.

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