The Great Ocean Road

Te mooi voor woorden en een goed excuus om eens naar Australië te komen…

The Stuart Highway

From Darwin the Stuart Highway dissects the guts of this great country of ours. This road has been our companion for four days and with it we have seen a few special rocks and a whole lot of dust…

Don’t get me wrong – the few special rocks gave breath to much  ooh’s and a sigh or two at their enormity… but the hours and hours of driving … I tell you now people I am not a car person!

Banksy on the other hand is a trooper… tucked away in her own private Idaho (in the passengers seat behind Mumsy is content to snooze and gaze at the passing scenery for hour upon hour. Dave is also a trooper… the driver of our clan merrily busts out seated disco moves and happily spotting lizard after lizard after lizard… but me – I’m hopeless in the car… I fidget and squirm and painfully count down the kms to the next stop. I am pretty sure I am driving Dave crazy.

This is why we have added ‘play’ breaks to our daily routine. Dave thinks it is for the dog but really they’re for me and my ever growing car fever madness. Every few hundred kms we jump out the car and play fetch – or something like it. You see Banksy is yet to learn the rules of fetch… or she has learnt the game but likes her version better. Banksy’s fetch goes a little something like this: Tash throws the stick and Banksy A: fetches the stick, runs back towards Tash and then passes Tash and deposits the stick about 100m away or B: Looks dopily at the stick with a sideways head tilt and then back at Tash with a look that says “What do you think I am, a dog?” Then Tash fetches the ball.

On a serious note – apart from the enormous stretches of car driving torture – Australia is absolutely breath taking. The way in which our landscapes change from day to day… the burnt orange dust and dirt set against blue skies and a the pop of spectacular wildflowers… Please get out there and see it! Don’t necessarily drive from A: Darwin to B: Sydney via C: Half of bloody Australia – but get out there… and see it!

                             got to love the dining with the local wild life!

The wheel.

In the beginning there was man. Some time after that there was the wheel. With the wheel brought freedom. Freedom to travel far and wide.

Over the course of our travels we have coveted many wheels. First there was Jhana, our 1975 ford transit. What we learnt with her was never to attempt a journey around Australia with a car old enough to be your mother. When Jhana spat the dummy our pockets were left feeling the pinch.

Then there was Roo – our 1996 commodore wagon. Cheep as chips and after she kicked the bucket after 48hrs we were left spitting chips. Lucky for us our 3 months or 1000km warranty was still sparkling so the dealers pockets were left feeling the pinch and not our own.

Since then Roo kept her end of the bargain and with her as our chariot we were free to travel far and wide. She stormed  30km station driveway with out a peep. The 400km grocery run was no match for her gristle and grunt.

Until…

We are not sure how or when but a few months ago a cricket appeared under Roo’s bonnet – or at least that’s what we called it. “Hey cricket! What’s that??? You want to come along for the ride. All-righty then.” Now being on a cattle station there are no shortages of handy men and women so for weeks we pondered the sound – replaced this bearing and that but no matter what we tried that little cricket would not budge. Like all crickets this one yearned for friends so while we pondered, tested and tried the little cricket was busy inviting along friends… banshee breaks, epileptic steering wheel and skittle suspension. These were no match for the handy folk of Tipperary (Yes folks, with the help of the gardener I even learnt how to change a break pad) – but still the cricket would not budge.

Days and weeks passed and before too long we were due to leave. Our car was in good nick – except for that damn cricket. Nevertheless, we were ready to set sail. We packed, said our good byes and on our way out stopped at the workshop to top up the air in our tires…

Something was terribly wrong. As I turned on the the aircon the motor failed… too much stress on the engine??? Aircon??? That can’t be right??? We tried it again. Roo moaned – and it was not a moan that you want to hear when your leaving the station and you have a fortnight worth of reliance on your wheels to get you from A: Darwin to B: Sydney via C: Half of bloody Australia.

At the workshop we met up with our most loyal of car enthusiasts; responsible for much head scratching when it came to Roo’s cricket. He had another look, replaced another bearing and voila – the cricket disappeared.

We were ready to go.

We set our sails high and gave the queens wave to passers by.

Not further than the office Roo began to thrash and buck and then just like that little cricket… he was gone.  And we were left with one dog, a car full of crap and two poor sods with zero wheels to get them from A to B via C.

It is not all bad.

Our friends banded together and within a day we were off on our adventure… sat merrily in car number 3… a hire car – with zero crickets and a birth date similar to Banksy’s.

Sure, with a little more elbow grease and money here and there perhaps Roo could have made the journey.

We just didn’t have anymore patience… and the fear of breaking down in the middle of nowhere with one dog, one Dave and a car full of crap just wasn’t appetising.

So here I am, minus Roo – in Daly Waters, aka the middle of nowhere with one dog, one Dave, a car full of crap – and an amazing set of wheels – minus the cricket.

Het begin van het einde…

Vrijdag had ik mijn laatste werkdag in de “feed lot” en ik moet eerlijk zeggen dat ik daar niet echt triest om ben. Ik heb nog nooit zovele uren en dagen per week gewerkt en ik was  nu wel even toe aan wat vrije tijd. Dit betekent spijtig genoeg ook dat dit het einde is van Tipperary, morgen verlaten we het station. Ik ga deze prachtige plek en al de goede vrienden die we hier gemaakt hebben echt wel missen, maar “Life goes on”.

Nu moeten we dus terug in Sydney geraken en we hebben beslist om dit per auto te doen om op die manier toch een beetje onze originele reis rond Australië te vervolledigen. Onze planning is als volgt : Tipperary Station – Centraal Australië (Uluru bezoeken!!) – South Australia (Adelaide) – Victoria (Great Ocean Road + Melbourne). Dit hopen we te doen in ongeveer 2 weken zodanig we nog wat tijd met Tash haar familie kunnen doorbrengen voordat we naar BELGIË komen!!
Dit betekent dus ook dat we gedurende deze laatste 2 weken weer wat zullen bloggen en fotootjes online kunnen zetten.

Toedels!

Fire.

Dave burst through our door.

“Are you coming?”

“Where?”

“ To the fire.”

“What fire?”

“Haven’t you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“There is a fire at Honeymoon. Everything is gone.”

As we closed in on Honeymoon great black smoke clouds billowed above our heads and the yards glowed gold and amber.

“It looks like a war zone.”

The entire feedlot was a blaze. Giant stacks of hay 2o metres high and 50 metres wide burned like giant candles signalling the end of Honeymoon.

“There is nothing we can do about the hay. It will burn for days. All we can to is watch for spot fires.

And we did.  All day and into the early hours of the evening. One by one we would run into our colleagues – each looking worse than the last. Our friends were barely recognisable. Their bodies were stained and blackened with ash.  Their lips dry and crusted. Their eyes red and raw.

One man approached us hands shaking. He was trying to explain something about the fire but his sentences came out all disjointed and confused. Later we found out he had collapsed from smoke inhalation trying to save machinery and livestock. What we knew now was that he was lucky to have saved himself. If only we could convince him to rest and eat – but he wouldn’t leave, no-one would leave – not until they knew the fire was under control.

As night fell and darkness covered the yards we took it in turn to feed, sleep and patrol. From the hill we ate hamburgers and watched the unrelenting fire soldier on. From up here it looked as though hell hovered just below – waiting patiently for the wind to grant it new movement. We sat with our fingers crossed – knowing full well the slightest change in wind at this hour would sent the fire across paddock after paddock of worse yet directly to the homestead.

Close to midnight I returned home leaving Dave to his night patrol. 

Over the next week the fire continued. Though smoke billowed and raged work slowly returned to normal. Yards cleaned, hay delivered and commodity bays rebuilt. By the end of the week the only reminder of the fire would be the charcoal ground under foot.

Or so we thought.

Then it began.

Questions were asked.

Whispers began.

And bit by bit the rope that held us together and united us during the fire began to fray.

Blame.

There is nothing more harmful. Not fire that crackles and burns. Not smoke that covers and clings. Not sticks, not stones.

Nothing causes more harm than the words of nervous people.

Tipperary is falling down – and I assure you the devastation will be uglier than Honeymoon’s charcoal exterior.

In Sickness and in Health.

Welcome home.

Last we met the folks of Tipperary stood facing the guillotine, dressed to the nines, awaiting their call. There they stood, in sequins and stars, all awaiting word from their new employer. AACO was not only about to take control of our lively-hood but would soon hold the key to our future in this industry. Whispers of speculation echoed across the polo field and many an ear could be spotted suctioned to the walls awaiting news like gossip mongering flies. Insecurity, anxiety and fear covered the station like a giant web seizing all as prey. We all awaited the answer to the same question;

Will my job be safe when AACO take over and if not who will employ me when our industry is in such turmoil?

Whispers promised a meeting with the new company…a chance to dazzle and impress… a chance to keep our head off the chopping block – because if the whispers were true, heads are about to roll.

Alas, like all good games of whispers the end is a long way from the beginning.

Since then …

The folks of Tipperary were marched like cattle into the Tipperary office to receive new contracts watch a carefully orchestrated performance of HR1 and HR2. Hits such as ‘Stand By Your Company’ and ‘There’s no Business like AACO Business’, were sung to perfection but like any good HR performance one questions the need for polished persuasion.

A few days later we answered to yet another HR cattle call. We were again privy to a performance fit for kings. Our induction into AACO opened with an exciting rendition of ‘New Company, New Company’ followed by the breath taking duet, ‘Hopelessly Devoted To Your Helmet’, and closing with a carefully selected medley of HR hits including ‘Can’t Help Lovin’ That Policy Of Mine’, ‘The Sound Of Paperwork’ and ‘Don’t Cry For Me Tipperary’.

I must admit I my heart warmed during this performance. AACO and its minions won me over and for the first time since arriving on this station I felt safe in my employer’s arms. Little did I know that a good performance is little more than song and dance. Business is business and there is no time for heart in big companies. I would have to learn this lesson the hard way.

Let’s go back…

About the time that the folks of Tipperary stood in sequins and stars, awaiting word from their new employer, Dave and I went on our own journey…

Dave and I had slowly but surely fallen for this place. Our life was here on the station but we still longed for ‘home’. Both of us had felt unrest for far too long. Now with a new company taking over we are once again unsure of our future. Our industry is in turmoil and the spotlight on live export casts an eerie shadow over and already questioned future.

At the time I thought I was coping quite well with the lack of certainty when it came to our lives here at the station… but looking back the stress and unrest was too much. I was worn and vulnerably and quickly became ill.

I remember the night I realised something was very wrong with me.

It was a Thursday…

Heart racing I look in the mirror and see sickness staring back at me. Eyes of olive and death stare out and startle. You don’t belong to me.

There is something wrong with me.

With shaking hands I grab my phone to check the time.

It is 2am.

Why do I think it is morning?

“There is something wrong with me.”

“What is the time?”

“It’s 1am.”

“Come back to bed. Get some sleep.”

I climb under the covers. Ten thousand thoughts strike the edges of my skull like pinballs. I grab Dave’s arm and pull it over me and feel safe buried in my man made cave. Dave’s breath rocks me to sleep.

I awake with a start.

I can’t catch my breath.

My heart is pound with steel fists at the walls of my chest and my breath is epileptic. Every cell in my body is screaming for escape. I hold on for dear life.

What is happening to me?

I know this.

This is panic.

Calm your breath. Calm yourself.

I tried. I swear I tried. I couldn’t stop it.

My body shakes uncontrollably. I tie myself in knots and slow my breathing. Nothing helps. I have lost. The noise inside is deafening and all I can do is scream to drown it out.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know. Hold me down. I feel like I am about to take off.

Dave threw his arms around me, and held on for dear life.

“You’re going to be ok… We’ll get through this… come back to me”

It was too late. I was gone.

Dave held on and was able to pull me back.

“I need help. Can you ask the gardener to call my doctor?”

“I can do it.”

“No. I need you. Please don’t leave me.” I whimpered, broken and now curled in the foetal position on our couch.

“She needs to get a hospital, now!” urged the gardener after a conversation with Dr G.

Dave piled me into the car and off we went. I was flying, no longer panic stricken but as high as a kite. Before we got the emergency department I had convinced Dave to take me on a shopping spree. First stop, a newsagent where I bought magazines titled; Country Style, Vogue, Frankie and Tattoo Life (which looking back seems an odd but suitably manic selection). Next stop RM Williams where I tried on everything and asked the sales assistant to write the details of every garment down for me because… “I am heading into hospital now and probably shouldn’t buy anything until my mental health assessment comes back clear.” To which the now wide eyed sales girl nodded politely and continued jotting down dress codes and sizes for the clearly loopy customer.

At the emergency I was greeted and assessed by the CAT (Crisis Assessment and Treatment) Team. This involved about an hour of questioning. During which my mouth motored, my hands danced and my eyes scattered all over the place. I was redirected and refocused from time to time.

I felt joy then persecution. I felt excitement then dread. I felt extreme empathy and then total disconnection. I was all over the place. I was bouncing off the walls. I was delusional and yet exceptionally articulate.

What was wrong with me?

I remember finding their final series of questions humorous.

“Do you have any special powers?”

“What do you mean?”

“Can you do anything special? Any new skills?”

“Oh yeah, I can pretty much do anything right now, I am super skilled and super intelligent.”

“Alright. Well do you have any super powers, you know, like a super hero.”

I found this hilarious. “No! But I do understand people. I know what they are thinking. I know what you’re thinking.”

“Ok. But can you do anything unusual? Can you fly or perhaps talk to animals or trees”

“Ha, no! That would be really cool though! Do you think I might be able to?”

Silence… and a lot of note taking.

The CAT Team asked that Dave and I to stay in Darwin under observation for a couple of days. They said the most important thing was that I sleep and provided medication to assist. By now I was sleeping less than an hour each night and hadn’t had a full night sleep in over 3 weeks.

I remember asking what was wrong with me. They said that it was impossible to accurately diagnose me and after I interrupted the doctors with my thoughts on diagnosis they reminded me that what I needed now was sleep.

Dave and I left the hospital optimistic. As we bounced back to the car I turned to him and said with a chuckle,

“You know when they asked me about super powers… Do you think I should have told them that I have been talking to the cows?”

“Do they talk back?”

“From time to time.”

We laughed all the way back to the car.

I guess sometimes all you can do is laugh.

It beats the hell out of crying.

Dave and I returned to the station and tied to muddle through as best we could. Even with medication I still wasn’t sleeping. This had been going on for 6 weeks. I was exhausted but restless and neither of us knew what to do. My head was flooded with ideas and my gut filled with energy. I became less and less able and more and more inappropriate in my behaviours. I tried accompanying Dave to work but my moods were all over the place. One minute I was standing on the haystacks singing atop my lungs, the next curled in the fetal position crying. In one sentence I would joke and then yell at Dave for not understanding. I wasn’t getting better and I didn’t know how long we could hold on. I was coming undone. Fast.

A week later I resigned. I was unable to work and unable to express what was happening inside me. I was given hope in the shape of rehabilitation promised in company policy. When I pursued this promise I was met with insolence and ignorance at every turn. To quote an HR representative from AACO’s Brisbane office, “Listen Natasha, AACO is a business and whatever it is that you are going through it has nothing to do with this company”. The decision to resign was easy after that.

Not long after that I was hospitalised and diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

For two weeks I watched the sky fall and near drowned in a pool of my own self-pity. I tied myself in knots trying to escape and lost myself in a fog of medication. I yelled at the moon and wished on stars.

It took the advice a schizophrenic bank-robber named ‘Nurse Betty’ to wake me, and breathe a little sense and positivity back into my neglected bones.

“Tash darling, having a mental illness is like having a baby.” He mused whilst waving a plastic cigarette gaily in the air, “You nurse it and attend to its needs morning and night, day in, day out… whether you like it or not. But if at any stage you can’t look after that baby – you give it to someone who can. In here, the nurses will look after your baby – but you better bloody well start looking after yourself and learn how to live with this baby cause your bloody stuck with it – whether you like it or not. So, best start making the best of it… Did you hear me sweetie?”

I most certainly did and in the end, he was right – the time away gave me a chance to learn, accept and move forward.

So here I am. I have been back on the station for a few weeks now. Every day I am stronger and more able. Work is not on the cards just yet but I am hopeful for the future. Dave is flourishing in his job and right now I am just happy playing house. We have a gorgeous little blue heeler pup, named Banksy – who is at this moment scratching at our sliding door looking in with big needy eyes… might be time for a walk.

Looking back, the question that caused us so much grief…

Will my job be safe when AACO take over and if not who will employ me when our industry is in such turmoil?

… doesn’t seem to carry much weight anymore… and even though I am still not quite sure where I stand out here at Tipperary – it doesn’t seem to matter anymore…

What matters is more than a pay check at the end of the week… It is more than the daily grind. It is more than business – no matter how big.

Our lives, our health, and our loved ones are what matter most.

If nothing else I know that my future will be filled with all three – and for that I am truly blessed.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

I wanted to take a minute to thank our loved ones. Dave and I are endlessly grateful for your kindness and support. Our family and friends mean everything to us and we feel bloody lucky to have each and everyone of you in our lives. Thank you for always being there. Thank you to those who have sat on the phone with me whilst I chatted manically about grand plans and schemes… to those whose balconies I perched upon counting down the hours of the day… to those who travelled far and wide to visit… to those who sent love in the form of  letters and gifts… to those who still email love and support. You know who you are. Thank you.

Photo Essay: Camp Life

 

 

A Public Announcement

T o our friends and colleagues,

We have been made aware that our blog has become a bone of contention…

For those of you who are angry or just plain curious – please read on… read everything!

We started this blog over a year ago as a record of our adventures and life together – we wanted a way to keep our friends and family up to date with our life on the road. We wanted a place to keep records of our life, our thoughts and our dreams.

If you have been offended by our words please, please come and talk to us.

At present we have submitted all blog posts and photography to our new company for approval – no new posts will be published until a decision is made but old posts will remain online.

Until we meet again,

Davy and Tash.

Export stop

In ongeveer een uur is het officieel… Tipperary Station zal overgenomen zijn door een ander bedrijf “AA Co” genaamd. We zullen ook op deze meeting te weten komen wie zijn boeltje mag pakken en wie mag blijven. Veel mensen zitten hier dus met een hoop stress. Kben blij dat het voor ons niet echt uitmaakt, als dit voor ons het einde is, dan vertrekken we gewoon naar de volgende werkplaats, dat is het goede aan rondtrekken. De overname gaat momenteel gepaard met een vee export stop die is opgelegd door de regering. Het is hier in Australië een belangrijk ding, want het is een enorme bron van inkomsten en veel mensen kunnen hun job verliezen. Dus dit zorgt voor nog meer stress hier.

Tash heeft momenteel nog enkele dagen vrijaf, dus ik ga vragen om me eens een dagje te volgen op het werk om wat fotootjes te nemen. Zo krijgen jullie me ook nog eens te zien. Ik mis het fotograferen wel een beetje, maar heb er de laatste tijd eerlijk gezegd nog niet veel tijd voor gehad.

Ah Stijn ge moet maar eens gaan kijken op www.wrangler.com dat is wat alle cowboys hier dragen, en ik sinds een goeie week dus ook!!! YIHAAA 🙂

Tipperary Whispers.

Lets play a game of whispers. Take one cattle station – loaded with a mixed bag of employees. Add to that a generous helping of insecurities about the state of the live export industry and serve it up on a bed of anxiety and fear about job security- topped with isolation and boredom of the desperate housewives of The Boulevard and you have one hell of a game of Chinese Whispers.

Not long ago a exposition on the cattle industry was documented heavily in the media. The footage was shocking to even those with years in the industry – something needed to change – action was due – but alas the result of the expose has left a massive question hanging over the heads of the Northern Australian Cattle Industry. Due to the very location of our stations – live export is key to successful earnings – the cost of transportation of our cattle to other areas of Australia or the profits to be gained by selling to a meatworks in the area equals the loss of lively hood for many in an already unforgiving environment.

Last Tuesday there was a march held in Darwin supporting action against animal cruelty but also crying out for support for our live export market. I was unable to attend as I was at camp but friends of mine returned with tales of grown men weeping over losses indescribable. All there were nervous about their futures.

Here the story is much the same only add to this fear an additional question – will my job be safe when AACO take over and if not who will employ me when the live export industry is in such turmoil.

This Wednesday parts of our station will be handed over to AACO – a leader in the industry… here is where the whispers begin.

For the last month we have been processing all the cattle (53,000 head of cattle) to be handed over to AACO tomorrow – when that occurs AACO will own everything not bolted down and big boss Myers will still hold onto the rest. There have been tight lips from those in the know about the details of the contract between AACO and Myers – and hence those filled with fear and anxiety have been filling in the gaps.

Tipperary whispers…

Be careful employees what you listen too – speculation can become fact very quickly when paired with fear and ignorance. Best to block your ears…

Tomorrow AACO are meeting individually with each member of staff to reassess their value to the company – or so the whispers tell… so put on your best frock and prepare to dazzle – cause if the whispers are true only few will survive.

Until tomorrow.