Sunday  22nd April 2007

   When I am in bed for the night, I turn on my transistor radio and listen to the ABC. When I fall asleep the radio stays on but does not disturb me as I have it barely audible. When I was selecting gear to take with me on the walk, I had to find a small radio that would run for a long time on its batteries. The one that I have goes for just over a week running about 12 hours a day. It uses 2 re-chargeable NiMH AA batteries so is easy to recharge with my solar panel. I woke at 4.30 and heard the Australia All Over show going, it starts at 5.30am Sydney time which is 4am Adelaide time.

   I got up and walked to the caravan park office where there was a public phone outside. I called the 1300 number and got through to Lee Kelly. I knew of Lee as the producer as I have listened to Macca in the past. I told my story of walking across Australia for the DeafBlind and about the opera being here in the outback and she was keen to talk to us. I explained that the singers would emerge around 7am and Lee said that she would call me on the restaurant number I gave her. I should expect the call from them at about 8 o'clock. Great.

   I went back to bed for a while but didn't get back to sleep. I listened to the radio and eventually got up around 6 and, after showering and closing up the tent, I went over to the restaurant. Ron greeted me and offered breakfast which I gladly accepted.

   I then fidgeted as I watched the time go by. I was anxious about the upcoming radio interview but also worried that I had not seen any sign of the opera people. I expected that at least Bill, the owner of the opera company, would be around early and there were 4 singers and a piano player. The call from the ABC was a non event and the lack of opera people was a disappointment. I phoned Lee Kelly at the ABC and got an apology as they could not "fit me in" but asked if I could call in next Sunday morning as they are interested and want to hear from me.
Seeing that the ABC did not call, I'm glad that the singers didn't scrape themselves out of bed at the crack of dawn. But I definitely felt let down.

   I headed back to the caravan park as the operatic performance was not starting till 2.30 after lunch at 12. I was invited back for lunch and to come with my backpack and solar panel and "mingle".

   Back at the caravan park I had a bit of a clean up and gathered up all my dirty clothes and headed for the laundry. I decided also to put my sleeping bag through the washing machine. From all I could tell from the labels, it was ok to do this, but I had no experience with washing sleeping bags and so I worried all the time it was spinning around. But it came out looking wet but ok. There were no bits hanging off, so I through it over the line as best I could as there was no grass around to lay it out on which would have been my preference.
   
   I caught up with John, the park manager, and he assured me that it would be ok to stay the extra night for no charge. The walk between the caravan park and the restaurant was about 2km and took about 30 minutes. It was a walking and cycling trail only and it meandered here and there following the contours of the land mainly alongside a dry creek bed. Today, as a change and to see a bit more of the local area, I did a "bee line" for the restaurant over mainly sparse countryside. As it turned out I missed the entry point by 100 meters or so and came upon one of the "eco" cabins nestled in the hillside above the rest of the settlement. I didn't even know that the accommodation was so extensive around the restaurant, and they had done well to "hide" a few cabins in such open country.

   I arrived in time to see a tourist bus pulling up and disgorging over 25 well dressed "city" looking travelers obviously here for the opera and, as I found out, a wine fest. The wine on the day was provided by Little Brampton Wines vineyard and winery. They were very professional and well patronised.

                  

  Already, most of the tables on the verandah were fully occupied and the beautifully laid out luncheon and indoor seating area was crowded. There was additional seating outside the restaurant on the ground and many visitors had their own seating (and picnic tables).

   A very old ten ton truck was backed up to the end of the verandah where the loading tray was set up as a stage with microphones and the old, rusting cab was draped over with a large painter's drop-sheet. Speakers were "in the bush" and on the verandah posts and everything looked ready to go.

   Ron and Bill greeted me as I walked up the ramp leading onto the verandah and pointed to a spot where I could put my pack. Ron led me into the dining room and it was hard to believe that I was only meters away from one of the harshest areas of the Australian outback. The floors were polished, the stainless steel smorgasbord gleamed and food on display among the best I had seen.

   "Help yourself. What would you like to drink?"

   I followed his nod to see the well appointed bar with two barmen dressed for the occasion, one of them acknowledging Ron's look that said "look after this bloke".

   I was bewildered. I had half expected a cool reception after the Macca fiasco this morning but he was treating me like royalty. I daintily (at first) selected a few items for the plate that a waitress thrust before me and headed for the bar for my obligatory Solo. I won't bore you with details, but I am pretty good "on the tooth" and this kind of eating suits me fine as I can go back for additional small helpings and not look too much like the glutton I can be.

                     

   Within a short time it was standing room only. There was an entry fee for the opera performance and the lunch (Ron waived it for me) and even travelers that just happened to be there, joined in after coughing up for just the lunch. It made for an interesting mix. "City" folk in their finery mixed with the "landed gentry" from the stations from near and far with their checkered shirts and big hats and wide belts. With a smattering of passers by and grey nomads with their "best", unwrinkled, outfit they carried, and me in shorts and a DeafBlind "T" shirt and trusty walking boots.

   A cattle property owner and/or manager type (you could tell from the "clobber" and general confident carriage) introduced himself.

   "I'm Warren Fargher," he said, "from Wirrealpa station. You'll be going past our place. Make sure you drop in."

   Yikes. Where the heck is Wirrealpa? I could hardly say it. How was I going to remember it? I asked him to spell it and repeat it for me and as soon as he went on his way "mingling" on a rare day off the station, I dug in my pack for my diary and wrote it all down. Warren must have been watching. He tapped me on the shoulder and handed me a business card. Maybe his memory was as bad as mine and he was able to empathise.

   In a prominent position on one of the verandah tables, there was an artist catching the atmosphere, creating a water colour painting of the event as it was happening around him. What a character! I would have liked to have sat beside him as he painted and coaxed a few stories from him. He had a long white beard and gnarled facial features and, I bet, a million stories to tell. But he was in such demand that there was a steady queue of "patrons'" wanting his attention that I let him be. Maybe we'll meet again one day while I am wandering around his part of the world.

                   

   As I have said before, I am not an opera fan, but when they started to perform I have to say that I stopped eating to watch and listen. This was not the opera as we know it, on stage, props and backdrops everywhere and fat ladies singing to the sounds of a full orchestra. The singers came on singly, in twos, threes or all four, standing up to the microphones and giving it their all to the sound of a well tuned piano somewhere out of  my line of site, obscured by the standing crowd. And the backdrop! No need for a false scene painted on a hanging roll down sheet. The magnificent Flinders Ranges provided the perfect backdrop. Local shrubs and trees giving way to foothills and then the peaks as my eyes scanned form the singers to the far off horizon.

   Even the battered old truck with the drop-sheet hiding most of the rusting cabin seemed to be "made" for the occasion. I reckon there would have been over 300 people there enjoying the show. Laughing at the performers who not only had great voices but were wonderful entertainers, clapping endlessly, smiling and chatting after each number. Until at last, Bill Snell took the "stage" to announce a short interval to allow the singers to get some well earned lubrication and for all of us to have a walk around. I took the hint and beat the crown heading for the gents. Too much Solo does that to me.

   Ron grabbed me on the way out and said,

   "Get your pack on. And the solar panel."

   What had I done? Was I under dressed? Getting kicked out? My immobility and blank stare brought a smile to his face.

   "I want you on stage in a minute during the break. With your gear on. It'll give you a chance to tell the crowd about your walk."

   Uh oh. I think I would have felt better being told to "bugger off". A telephone interview is one thing. On stage, in front of a crowd, following the magnificent performance of the opera singers? What'll I say? Ron could see what was going through my mind, and made it easier by gently pushing me towards where my pack was. He stood over me while I "kitted up" and then directed me along the crowded verandah and onto the back of the truck. It all happened so quick I was still zombie like while Ron was tapping the mike.

   "Could I have your attention for a minute please? You may have seen this bloke walking along the road or hanging around here today. His name is Jeff Johnson and he is walking from the bottom of Australia to the top with just his backpack and no support vehicle. I have asked him to come along today so I could show him off to you. He is one brave man. I know. I live out here. He is raising awareness for the DeafBlind Association and I would like you to find him later and give generously. Jeff, a few words please."

   Yikes. On the spot. Eyes everywhere. And silence. Just before Ron started speaking it was a riot of chattering voices. Even when he started talking, they took a bit to quieten down. Now, they were all hanging on my first words.

   "Uh, hello," I stumbled, "Thank you for putting me on the spot, Ron." I said turning to face him to the twitter of the crowd. "As remote as it is out here, I love the Australian outback and feel quite at home. I was surprised to see such a large gathering, specially for such a cultured event."

   Well I rattled on for a minute or 2 and then nodded "Thanks" and stepped back.

   "Thanks, Jeff." It was Ron again. "Don't forget, Jeff will be here for the afternoon and would appreciate those donations."

   We were clapped off the stage and I got the "Good job"s and "Goodonya"s as I weaved my way back through the tables to where I could once again take off the pack. Before I even finished, there were a couple standing by me with a donation. I sat at a little table at the top of the ramp and got out the receipt book. Over the next couple of hours I had collected $150 for the cause.

                   

   I got some great pics and, after the singers had finished, I left the very happy throng to their wine and finger food and extracted myself from the now familiar staff and performers. What a day. I could not have planned it better.

  Back at the caravan park I salvaged my sleeping bag from the clothes line where it was bunched up and not properly dry. I took it into the laundry and committed it to one of the dryers that was waiting to demolish my only protection from the cold at night. I sat with an unopened magazine on my lap like an nervous father to be. Would it emerge with all it parts intact? And I had to go through it again when it stopped, as it was not quite dry and I had to feed in another $1 and worry all over again. Without the sleeping bag dry, I had nowhere to sleep tonight. But it survived and came out all clean and fluffy and I settled in for the night and an early start tomorrow.
 
   Tomorrow, another real breakfast and a fond farewell