The Two Headed Lizard

     We headed inland the next morning for the Outback. When we arrived in the edge of it, people were very excited. No, not to see us, but because it rained the night before. Their first significant rain in three years.

     As we parked in a small village, we were amazed by the car next to us. It was a very long, very old station wagon. It had gas cans hanging all over it, filled with bedding and supplies, clotheslines stretching across it. The tag said, “Outback Australia.” We thought at first we were in a movie set. Anyway, we just had to wait until the owner got back, and get a look at him. When he arrived, he looked the part. Trips are just more interesting, with Barbara and her Dunnahoe nerve. We soon knew his life history. He was European, and he first came to the Outback years ago. He got on the dole, and lived on it, wandering about. He had come to this village, hoping to be able to get government money closer to civilization. He could not, so the last we saw of him, he had filled up his gas tank, all of his jugs, and was heading out toward Alice Springs, where there was almost no grass or trees, where the living was easy, on the dole. Australia has virtually no homeless. Anyone could get on the dole. And, we were told, if homeless people acted crazy, they were treated like they were, and put away.

     We headed on south, along the edge of the hard outback, to Charleyville. Along the way, we saw lots of Emus, goats, many birds and kangaroos, and bottle trees. Shaped like a bottle.

      The school district there, we found out, was the size of Texas. With thirty some-odd students. School was conducted by radio.

     We passed by a telephone booth, very rare in the outback. Then we went back and tried to call the kids. Luckily, Barbara caught both of them at the same place, and everyone was happy. My happiness faded as I felt a big something crawling on my face. It was a very big spider. I brushed it off. Now, I know our poisonous American spiders, but I don't know Australian spiders. I did know they had some that would kill you dead as a doornail. I noticed the phone booth we were in was full of spiderwebs. I told Barbara to hang up, we had to get out of there. Neither she nor the kids would hear of it, we had  never talked with both of our kids at the same time before. Finally I just dragged  her out. She was mad, but settled down when I told her about the spider.

     I counted 103 Kangaroo bodies in a ten kilometer stretch, lying along the road. As I said before, they just felt obligated to jump out in front of a car, and most people who lived there had bars on the front of their car to prevent damage. Also, Australia, where so many different animals live, had no buzzards or other carrion eaters. Plus, that part of Australia was extremely dry. The bodies just pile up and stay there forever, it seemed.

    We arrived at an Aboriginal Arts Center. We had never seen an Aboriginal before. An old, old man was working on his art piece, and Barb just naturally befriended him,  Talking his ear off. He was patient with us for awhile, a nice old man. Finally, though, he just got up and disappeared.

      Heading on south, we began to meet Road Trains. There were big trucks pulling 3, 4, or more big trailers, usually filled with cattle, some double-deckers. The farther they were into the Outback, the more trailers they were allowed to pull. The first time I met one on the road, weaving back and forth like a snake, I started looking for a good place to leave the road. There was none. In some places, we traveled 100 kilometers without meeting anyone.

     We passed a yard sale. Barbara just never can pass one up in another country, she just has to see what their old stuff looks like. When we walked around the corner of the house, a big animal made a run at Barbara. She bolted for the car. Finally, the lady convinced her it was a pet. It was an Alpaca, like a Llama. It just loved to lay its head on Barbara's shoulder, and make a contented, purring sound. Barbara bought a small, delicate teapot with roses on it, and actually made it back home with it. I bought a weird thing that, I found out later, is a Chinese Hindu Idol or God or something, I'm not sure what. Back home,  I pulled it out to show a friend who had just been a missionary in China, and she ran away screaming. I don't know what all the fuss is about, it has been a totally well behaved weird thing in my closet for years now. We went on, but stopped quickly when a large lizard with a head on each end crawled out into the road in front of us. Looking more closely, one head proved to be fake. I guess the fake head is used to convince predators it's boldly facing it while actually running away. Not a bad idea.

     We had trouble finding lodging that night. Seems it was Labor Day in Australia, and everything was packed up. We finally found a bar with a huge room filled with beds upstairs, so we had it to ourselves. They had beds in there for 20 or so. They advertised free “sizzlers” with a room or bed rental. Well, this was their “super bowl” night, and the fans in the bar were already drunk and rowdy. I didn't even want to go into the bar, I've never been much on Honky Tonks. But, Barbara was not about to miss out on our sizzler, (hot dog) so we went in. We sat in a back corner. I could see right off that the drunks were hanging on every play on the TV, and we would have to stand between them and the TV to get our sizzlers. I was ready to go hungry, and I was beginning to see that the “ Dunnahoe nerve” was beginning to turn on me. Barb just marched up there, blocked the drunks off, and demanded our sizzlers. I just hung back, and tried to look like I wasn't with her. Someday, that “Dunnahoe nerve” is going to be the death of me!

     The next day, as we moved on south, (I thought my life was about to go south on me last night.) and the country was beautiful. Green hills, full of sheep. Purple flowers covered many fields, as far as you could see. We drove past a gas station with lots of people standing around a huge ram. Barb jumped out to get a picture. The huge ram made a run at her. Once again, she bolted for the car. There's some things that “Dunnahoe nerve” just don't cover. Turned out, just another pet.

     We drove through the beautiful Blue Mountains, skirted the edge of Sydney, and headed on south. A  Sheep Station advertised home stays, so we went for it. Early the next morning, the sheep rancher said he was rounding up all the sheep to “mark the lambs.” Well, that involves cutting a piece of skin off just below the tail, so that its bodily functions would not mat up there, and attract flies that laid dangerous worms. His daughter, 12 or so, hated that day, but she had to help. They needed  the whole family. Barbara took her aside and gave her the old “I was a farm girl too, and sometimes, you just do what you gotta do” talk. Of course, marking lambs is different from chopping cotton. Those weeds didn't scream when you cut parts off.. But, it did help. I was put in the back of the pickup with the dogs, Barb in the cab with the humans. He just drove around the flock, giving a special whistle for each dog and each task assigned to him, and in short order the sheep were all penned. One of the dogs was very independent. He never acted on the first whistle, it took two to get him into action. But he was so good once he was in action, the sheep man tolerated him making his statement.

     The Station had a huge water tank on one corner of each building, and every drop of water they used was rainwater from those tanks. Well water was salty. It did not rain very often.

     Next we came to Canberra, the Capitol. Sydney and Melbourne both wished to be the Capitol City,  and Canberra was created as the Capitol, close to halfway in between, as a compromise. It was relatively new, and was perfectly laid out for its purpose.

     Next we climbed into the Snowy Mountains. The skiing season had just closed, and we pretty well had it to ourselves.  Moving on, we stopped at a Duckbill Platypus reserve, and although we hid in the bushes and watched the river a long time, we never saw one.

     Kangaroo were still plentiful, and we began to see roadsigns that said, “Danger – Wombat crossing.” What the heck is a wombat? Well, we finally found out. They are mammals, maybe the size of a small hog, but they were very dense and heavy. Built like a concrete block. Run over one, and you could tear up the bottom of your car.