* * *
The next morning, Dad was in a good mood. His router was set up after three hours and three technicians helping him. He had received an email from the Broome Recreation and Aquatic Centre (BRAC) which spoke about an Open Day in the school holidays and that the writer wanted people to email her about coaching. Dad said he did write about that but didn’t think he would receive a reply before the Open Day. So we’re going to the Open Day on the last day of the school holidays.
I went off to school feeling happy for my parents. They had been living apart for six months and now were settling in with most of the necessities of life.
Dad seemed restless though, as he wanted to explore a bit more of Broom but he also wanted to make money with his textbooks. And he could only do that through marketing.
Before school, I asked Marcus what he knew about BRAC.
“Yeah, I play tennis there though it’s pretty expensive to belong. We can’t afford coaching but I don’t think I’m the next Bernard Tomic.”
“We’re going to the Open Day. Are you?” I asked.
“Yeah, probably. That’s if the car is going.”
“Maybe we could give you a lift,” I said.
“Bonza. I’ll let you know. Are you going anywhere for the holidays?” Marcus said.
“No, we’re still exploring Broome. Though we may go to the pearl farm at Willie Creek one day.” I said.
“I haven’t been there,” said Marcus.” My Dad likes to explore on his own and that’s why we have a four-wheel drive.”
“Cool. We only have a station wagon between Mum and Dad. If Dad needs to go shopping or to the printer, he has to drop Mum off before coming home and making sure I get to school. He doesn’t walk me there though a few times we’ve walked Lassie as it’s cooler weather now in the morning. It’s too early to get the mail so I do that on my way home.”
“Are you up to playing footy tonight?” Marcus said.
“Just for a short time as this heat knocks me around.”
“I noticed you fell asleep in English!”
“I hate that as I always wake up dribbling.”
“You’ll get used to the heat,” Marcus added.
12 Stranded and Rescued.
We went exploring the next Sunday. We headed off to Derby which is north of Broome, all three of us and Lassie. Mum had packed plenty of food and drink and water for Lassie as well as her bowl. Dad’s job was to check the oil and water, then the tires at the BP service station, including the spare one. Thank goodness our car has good air conditioning as it was heating up to 30 degrees.
I had a new pair of sunglasses which we’d bought at the market and a proper hat to wear when we were out of the car. By a proper hat, I mean one that has a brim all around and not peaked like a cap. There was plenty of sunscreen to cover my bare legs and arms. We didn’t know what we were going to find on our first adventure but we were prepared.
We found the prison tree in Derby which is a huge boab tree that was used last century to house Aboriginal prisoners who had a hard time of it and most were guilty til proven innocent. They probably didn’t understand what was going on as they didn’t speak English. They were treated harshly with iron shackles round their necks.
I’ve studied a little bit on Aborigines with a workbook called Walkabout Dreaming last year. Our teacher pointed out that the Aborigines or First Australians had lived on this continent for over 40,000 years. They knew how to farm through fires and how to find food and water in the deserts which weren’t always deserts. Since I’ve been in Broome I’ve heard about songlines which lead them to water. The Aboriginal kids at school, including Marcus, tell me some things about their culture but said a lot of stuff is secret business and they can’t share it.
Not far out of town there was a dirt road that Dad had heard about that could be interesting. We drove and drove but didn’t seem to reach the end. Then up ahead there was a stone bridge which looked like a good place for a picnic. Dad drove slowly up to the bridge but then the rear left tire dipped down. The bridge had given way in one spot so Dad must have been too close to the edge. We all got out and surveyed the damage. Mum found two 50-cent pieces on the bridge so she said she’d put it on Lotto, though she didn’t win anything.
It was obvious even to me that the tire had burst. Dad got out the spare tire and the jack and the wheel brace. But he couldn’t move the nuts. The garage must have used an air gun on them.
“What now?” I asked.
“We’ll have to build the wall of the bridge and force the spare tire underneath so I can drive forward over it,” said Dad.
So that’s what he did, very slowly, and after we drove over the collapsed wall of the bridge, we retrieved the spare tire.
“What now, Harry?” Mum asked as there was a fork in the road. “The sun is also starting to set. We can’t continue on a flat tire.”
“Let’s eat and maybe someone will come along,” said Dad.
“Now that is being very positive, Harry. All we want is someone with an extendable wheel brace,” said Mum.
We ate in silence, watching the sun set in the west. Suddenly, there was a vehicle. Of all the rescues we could hope for, a four-wheel drive had appeared on our bridge.
Yes, they had an extendable wheel brace, yes, our tire was easily changed and yes, they knew the way out, about half a kilometre. They had been out looking for boab nuts as the woman did carvings on them.
We met up with our rescuers in Broome, but not before we had seen some strange lights in the sky. Our new friends explained their theory on UFOs, that they were following a grid so they were not following a usual flight path. I was sent to bed dreaming of strange sights in the sky.
I was flying along the Fitzroy River, zooming in and out, sometimes skimming the water in my shuttle pod. My mission was to follow the Fitzroy to Fitzroy Crossing and see if anyone was fishing.
My heat detectors found a few people trying their luck but I wasn’t interested in them as I was given a new task. I had to start at Fitzroy Crossing and follow any stars that formed a straight line. It was thought these grids helped aliens find Earth and land there.
Did the grid follow the Fitzroy River from the Crossing to the coast? No. One led me to make a sharp left turn. Oh no. I was running out of fuel rods. So I backtracked to the mother ship.
My mission wasn’t a complete failure but I would need a bigger craft with more fuel rods if I was to solve the mystery of these grids. And what if I met an alien so close to Earth? I needed to speak to High Command even though they would punish me for failing my mission. What could they do but withhold my rations.
The Journal of Paul O'Leary: From the City to the Outback Page 5
