CHAPTER 20
We continued along the coast, with the obligatory walk through the Valley of the Giants, until Albany, the oldest European settlement in WA.

I didn’t like it. Too small a town trying to pretend it was a big city, and after a night in a hotel we filled up the car with water and food and set off into much harsher terrain.

If it all went well, we could easily do Esperance in a day, but we had to bear in mind heat, water, the possibility of hitting a roo, and Jim. It was indeed harsh country, the sheep farms dry and full of dully grazing animals, the bush after a while low, spiny and unwelcoming. We crossed several river courses, their beds almost dry apart from stagnant-looking pools, and it was all so different from the damp South West. Jeeramungup brought a break, and the chance to drink and fill the tank, and I took the wheel for the next stint. I thought back to the cyclist, was he intending to head out over this? Balls like brass if he was.

We took lunch at Ravensthorpe, where the bush seemed to turn suddenly to stands of gum trees, and then it wasn’t that far to Esperance. Jim was getting fractious by now, but there had been nowhere in that expanse of dead land that we would have wanted to stop.

Suddenly, industrial units, busier roads, and the sea. And what a sea. Blue water filled with hundreds of islands, a conical mountain off in the distance, clean sand. We rented a caravan in a campsite right on the beach, and Jim was off and into the water with his goggles and Dad. That was a poignant moment. I dug out my costume, bought for the trip, and forced my growth back between my legs. Did it look OK? Could I pass?

Fuck it. It was a quiet beach, and we were on a touring holiday, so would be moving on. If anyone saw, then so what? To be honest, in the costume Tony had picked for me, most men wouldn’t be able to see past my tits. I wrapped a sarong round me for effect and crossed the road to join my boys.

Four days later, after a visit to Cape le Grande park, and a day on Woody Island, Jim was up to his eyeballs in dolphins and sea lions, and we set off on the penultimate leg of out trip, the run up to Norseman and Kalgoorlie. We set off n the morning with the plan of a night in the bush wild camping to excite Jim, and after we had filled all our water holders we pulled out of the camp site. As we headed North, we spotted our cyclist just hitting the edge of town. Balls of brass, indeed! He looked haggard, and I hoped he was OK. How much further was he going–Sydney?

It was only 120 miles or so to Norseman, but we planned to camp wild rather than stay in the town, then push on to Kalgoorlie for the historical sights. We soon left the settled land, and entered an area of dried salt pans, red dirt and endless expanses of blackbutt gum trees. I spotted a wedge tailed eagle for Jim, and we passed several road trains, which excited him at first, but the monotony seemed to be getting him down. We had a break at Salmon Gums, and then I took over driving duties while Tony dozed. The road undulated as we went, and it was so straight for such long periods that it was hypnotic. Roadkill was everywhere, and the smell got into the car at times. We camped near Bromus Dam, supposedly a swimming spot, but no thank you,
There is a pull off there, with some litter bins, but that was all. A pair of Grey Nomads had parked their caravan there, and insisted we share a cuppa with them, finding a cold coke for Jim. We walked off into the bush, and finding a pitch clear of any widowmaker branches we set up camp.

This was a place rich in nature, and I found myself swamped trying to identify all the birds. The Nomads said there would be possums and roos around at night, and we had already seen brumbies, which entranced Jim. Bring him to the other side of the world and he gate bored with kangaroos and excited by horses. Kids, who’d have ‘em?

Me, if I could. Even with the joys of being ‘mummy’, I could still never be mother. Tony was watching this, and caught my mood. I got a hug ,and a soft kiss, and he went off to play catch with Jim.

We shared a meal with our Nomad friends, as they insisted, and it was a lovely evening. Harry and Jenny clearly missed their own grandchildren, and Jim ended up a little spoiled, but it was a holiday after all. We wandered out in the gloaming to our tent and settled Jim down with his rabbit. As it went fully dark, I looked up, and realised with a shock that I had never, ever seen so many stars. Leaning back into Tony’s arms I finally managed to locate a constellation I recognised, as well as the Southern Cross. He kissed the back of my neck and whispered in my ear.

“I’ve got something to show you…”

He picked up the blanket we had been sitting on and led me in the starlight through the trees. As a horse nickered a little way off he said “This’ll do”

“What have you got to show me?”

He began to unbutton my blouse. “That I love you more than anything except Jim”

We made love on the blanket, under the stars.

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Norseman was our breakfast stop, a scruffy little town with a herd of tin camels at one roundabout. Jim insisted we take his picture “riding” one, which actually meant Tony standing behind and balancing him. Then he saw the statue of the town’s founder, Hardy Norseman, so he had a real ride on him.

Hardy Norseman was a horse, by the way.

The land was getting seriously red as we set off for Kalgoorlie, and willy-willies were turning in the hot air. We stopped at Widgiemootha for some cold drinks, and then began the run into Kalgoorlie. The air started to taste odd, not just from dust, and found out later that it was the acid used in the gold-mining process. Before we went into town, Tony stopped by the big hole, a huge opencast gold mine with a viewing point. Toy-sized tipper trucks moved around in its depths, and a digger scoop was on display in the car park.

Tony took Jim over to it. “Can you read the sign, son? How much does it scoop up at a time?”

“F-fifty tons of orry, daddy”

“Ore, son. That means rock with bits of gold in. Now, how many scoops does it take to fill a truck? Shall we count?”

They went to the viewing platform. “Ready to count? OK, one…two…three…four…five…five scoops! Now, son, can you tell me what five fifties are?”

Jim puzzled away….”Two hundred and fifty, daddy!”

I was impressed. I was also touched. After Tony’s comment under the stars, his gift to me, I saw his love for his son and realised that he was giving that to me as well, sharing the most precious thing he had. “All my worldly goods”

If I had died then, it would have been happy. I didn’t, and it got happier.

Kalgoorlie was seriously strange, and I wasn’t sure if it was quite right for my little boy (sigh), though I had to slap Tony a couple of times when he got too interested in its history (of brothels) and its skimpies, which were barmaids wearing underwear and nothing else. I had read about this custom, but soon realised that it had been commercialised and instead of local girls doing it in their bar, there were a number of girls working several bars on different nights under a variety of working names. It didn’t sit well with me, and I felt better when we left the next morning for our long drive back to Perth. I wondered where our cyclist was.

We spent a day of hard driving across bush, until we hit Southern Cross and it turned into dried out farmland. We gave Jim another night in the bush, and made sure that this time he was up late enough to see the stars. The next day it was just a grind, as the land grew less arid, and older buildings began to appear, until we hit the edges of the Perth traffic and my mobile came to life.

Terry and Kylie were waiting with cold beers and a welcome home barbeque, and as Tony showered after the drive, Terry followed me down to the car hire place as I got rid of our wheels.

We would be off East in a couple of days, and that would be so different.

http://www.christianfletcher.com.au/_tentacle/files/images/u...(5).jpg Cape le Grande NP

http://www.kepakurl.com.au/trade/images/EsperanceWesternAust... The beach in front of the campsite

http://images.travelpod.com/users/jimandelle/gone_north_2006...

http://commondatastorage.googleapis.com/static.panoramio.com... Norseman tin camels