Saved Again by Aussie Hospitality

Many of us seem to expect indifference, rudeness and plain old danger out on “the open roads”, and I guess we can be excused for that.  Certainly modern media gives us no shortage of horror stories about abductions, road rage, assaults and pedestrian meanness.  That’s true even in a place like Australia, where the “lend a hand” mindset is far more alive than in America, and where your chances of meeting a Chuck Norris wannabe with a concealed carry permit are essentially zero.  Even here in Australia though, I’ve been told more than once to “be careful; it’s dangerous out there…”

But I don’t really think that’s true.  You meet all manner of kind, helpful and interesting people, anywhere and everywhere you go, and a few days ago I met a couple who could restore faith in the most cynical observer.  As I pulled into Barkly Roadhouse the morning of 18 April, a few young men strolled by and asked me about my trip, how far I had gone, how far I had to go, all that.  “Fair dinkum” one of them said when I told him it could be hot work, but at least I was seeing the country.  They really do say things like “fair dinkum”.

The Pub

Later in the pub while I was sipping a beer, I met and spoke to their mum and dad; Jean and Alan, owners and operators of Cape York Earthmoving.  They told me all about their business, which is to travel around the Northern Territory with earthmoving equipment and road scrapers, resurfacing rural tracks and station roads.  They have their machines that they move to various sites, and they live in a large and comfortable looking super-caravan, stocked with everything they need.  Alan, by his own admission, has the easy job of sitting in the airconned scraper cabin, but when he takes breaks for tea and scones, the kids are swarming at the machines with air-driven grease guns, hitting each and every of the 72 grease points to keep the dust out and the joints working. “It does seem like a lot of effort,” Alan said, “but the bearings are expensive and hard to replace, and grease is cheap.”

I guess I just assumed that road work was taken care of by, well, road crews; uniformed employees of the council who move out in union-backed teams to do whatever it is that needs to be done on the public roads.  Turns out that’s not the way it is up here.  Family businesses like Cape York Earthmoving are what make it all happen, and they move from dusty job to dusty job in a choreographed gypsy train optimized for maximum comfort at minimum expense.

I mentioned to Jean and Alan that I was a little disappointed with the store there at Barkly Roadhouse: it’s really just a souvenir stand, and I was working on the last of my road food with no way to resupply.  As if they had known me for ages, Jean and Alan immediately offered some food from their stores.  They tried to give me far more than I could carry or had any need for, asking nothing in return.

Most people that you cross paths with are good solid folks, but some of them stand out as net producers; the type of people who restore your faith in a scabbed-over humanity, and erase the angst from the last hundred or so dark warnings to “be careful; it’s dangerous out there.”  That’s Jean and Alan all over.

Thanx, guys:  You’re kinder than I deserve.  I’m still working through all the food, and I won’t forget you.