We had an entertaining 180km drive through a dozen pretty creek crossings, picturesque station buildings, red, white and grey dust and a dozen gates.
As Isabel was leading the convoy the job of opening and shutting gates fell to moi. Even though Ed and Phil drove Thelma Toyota and Narelle Nissan through the gates I held open with tender care, I was covered with accretions of dust before we were half way.
Exercise was the consolation as I climbed in and out of Isabel and curtsied politely as Thelma (seen above bravely fording a creek) and Narelle sidled past, adding a few bars of Happy Anniversary for Barb and Phil. I needed to be nimble.
At one gate a feisty charbray bull was trying to make a determined run at the gate so he could reach his girlfriends further down the track on the other side.
Keeping Isabel between the agitated randy bull and me, then manoeuvring the convoy through the gate, proved a bit of fun. Bulls are awesome creatures, projecting with ease their impervious nobility and superior strength. Fortunately they are also stupid and slow on the uptake so by the time Charlie Charbray figured out what was going on with our little procession it was too late.
We apologised to the cows and kept going into an encounter of the whirl kind. As I was shutting another gate behind Narelle a magnificent whirlywind materialised on the road behind us. They always go across roads, I thought, and stood for a few seconds mesmerised as it grew in intensity and came straight down the track.
I squealed, too late to reach Isabel or even get in Narelle beside Barb. Crouched beside Narelle’s bull bar, I shut my eyes and disappeared. When it passed I was in The Land of Oz, which in my case was a lot better than being in Kansas. I was, however, seventy shades of yellow.
Ed and Rita took the lead for a stretch so Rita had a gate-opening stint but fortunately had nothing more than a bit of dust with which to contend.
Kingfisher Camp on the Nicholson River had no fish but it did have blessed green grass on which to camp and magnificent margaritas, knocked up by Ed to celebrate Barb and Phil’s anniversary. And it had hot showers, blessed, magnificent hot showers.
I wondered why Dorothy never needed a shower after the big whirlywind took Toto and her to the Land of Oz.