The Long Way Down
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22nd January 2009
Latitude 41'10, Longitude 146'21
Start Mileage: 5674km
Finish Mileage: 8212km
Fuel reading: 7.36L/100km
Trip Notes: Four states, three days, 2538km
People describe Australia as the red country, but it is mostly brown and grey. It’s the smoky husk of a boab tree, the glint of a silver gum or a tangle of roadside scrub. And sometimes it is nothing. The earth simply rolls right up into the sky. After Roma, we entered the emptiness. There were no trees, no country halls of fame, no Big Cowboy Boots, not even a beaten-up petrol station to look at. Only the immensity of space. And how can you get your head around it, when it is running circles around you? The iPod was off that morning, but there was an unidentifiable hum lulling me into a meditative state. Eventually I realised that my assistant speaking to me. He was pointing out the road signs. “1500km to Melbourne,” he announced. “But we’re going to Devonport,” he added, unnecessarily. “So that’s just the first leg.”
We had entered the sphere of the classic Aussie road trip. A culture that came out of the 1950s, as people scattered across the country and cars became a household necessity. The filthy hot hulk of the Kingswood is etched into the consciousness of an entire generation, steamy air pouring from its windows, children shrieking, parents furious and the maddening sound of “are we there yet?’ ringing through the air. Australian families were forged and broken on highways. My sister still cannot travel in the back seat of any car. My cousin gags at the smell of nail polish. I remember the smell of vegemite, the thrill of a brown snake on the road, and the horror of having lost our cat on a toilet stop. There are some that yearn for the old vinyl bench seat, but not me. In Australia, necessity beats nostalgia. The temperature gauge read 41degrees C when we reached the outskirts of Walgett, but inside the Scout, it was 16. I ran my hand across the woven seats and marvelled at the simple joy of fabrics that do not tear the skin off your thighs.
We drove 2538km, about the same distance as London to Moscow with eight less countries to cross. They say Australia is a big country, but it’s not. The total length of the coastline is 34,218km. The latitudinal distance between Cape York and South Point is 3180km. There are children that travel 250km round trip to go to school and station jackeroos who will travel 12 hours just to go to the pub. Australia is gigantic! We entertained ourselves by breaking the country up according to town names. Places of the Wiradjuri people; Coonamble (bullock camp), Gilgandra (water hole), Cootamundra (turtle) and Wagga Wagga (place of the crows). Of English respectability; Orange, Holbrook, Young and Seymour. And the purely iconic; Gundagai and Cowra. It was a long trip.
After three days, we arrived in Tasmania. As the boat trawled across Bass Strait, my assistant noted that we had driven 900km per day. The temperature had travelled south with us – it was six degrees C – and the papers were reporting snow on the craggy peaks of Cradle Mountain. Rod Westbrook’s house overlooks the sea at Devonport. It is a six-church town of hardened locals and wild seas. He gets around on crutches because of spina bifida, but his images examine the perfection of nature. Magnified cross sections of dragonflies, leaves and fruits – the elements of Tasmania’s vast biodiversity – adorn his studio. The wilderness is his inspiration and the colours are rich and immense.
Our downward bound journey finished on Cradle Mountain. It was hard to believe that we were on a station only three days before. Rivers of mud flowed down the hiking paths, fiery environmentalists took the place of laconic farmers, and leeches were crawling up our blue gaiters. To our right, black dolerite escarpments reflected off the glassy lake. It was straight out of a postcard from Northern Europe, only surrounded by native Pandanis, Tasmanian Ash and quolls hopping through the button grass. A place where time stops and nothing matters, a noticeboard announced. And I had to agree. I was overwhelmed by the beauty, repulsed by the leeches, and ridiculously happy to be alive.
James