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September 30, 2001
Overland Australia - Update 56
September 30, 2001
Day 69
20 kilometres north of Lajamanu
From bel
We’re riding toward Gregory National Park in hope of finding standing water and some good exploring ground in which to rest. You can probably gather from yesterday’s general update that our break by the water hole (‘hole’ being the operative word) was an utter failure. Decking flies is much more tiring than riding, and it’s debateable whether the roasting heat is less severe in the spotted shade of sparse desert-fringe trees, than out in the sun with a biking breeze to cool us.
I decided after the first day that Camp Central (or ‘Grong Grong Camp’ – see aboriginal place names below – ed.) was not the place to be all day, and made it known that I would be setting out the next morning to try to make it through to Lajamanu on the old road. Crister, too, was up for the challenge, and we abandoned camp just as the flies were perking up for the morning.
During my wanderings the previous afternoon, I had picked up traces of a disused road heading in the right direction to take us to the community. We soon rediscovered the trail, and in around four hours riding, reached Lajamanu, and the community garage and store. The place was buzzing!
Fifty or so locals were potting about the ‘front yard’ of the only store in town; coming and going, chatting and playing, the old and the young. They made a wonderful and enthusiastic welcome party for a hot pair of bikers who felt just a little like pioneers after pushing our way along a very overgrown piece of trail. After lapping up the very different atmosphere, I left Crister with the bikes to search for treats.
When I returned with tomatoes (a bargain at $1.50 each) Crister was ‘talking’ to an interesting looking resident. Tall and lopsided, he had an intense look in his eyes, but seemed friendly enough. “Uh, this is Stanley,” Crister told me, then whispered: “I can't understand a word he’s saying.” As it was my turn to guard the bikes while he bought an ice cream, he left me to entertain our new friend – or visa versa.
Stanley was using a sign language I recognised. “d-a-r-w-i-n” he said. I gave him my best encouraging look. “d-a-r-w-i-n . . . c-h-i-n-a.” I nodded. By the time Crister returned, Stanley was saying: “China . . . if Kung Fu, fu, fu, fu . . . I am! . . . Mah’met Ali!” here he illustrated with a mime of boxing. “I am! Mah’met Ali!” he repeated.
“He’s Mohammed Ali,” I translated.
“Yeah!” Crister said, turning to Stanley, “You the Man!” This greatly pleased Stanley, who displayed a remarkable arrangement of knotty teeth, before ambling away in his lopsided fashion, still sparring. He had simply wanted to communicate.
Some time later, our forty-kilometre rest day found us back at camp. We returned along the main road, another sandy, corrugated old thing. The stay-at-homes had perfected the fly-swiping dance to competition level, replete with stamping and shimmying. Crister announced that we had found the way not to go to Lajamanu, unless anyone fancied having an eye taken out by burnt shrubbery. I had been going to suggest the whole team take the back route, but I kept quiet -- I guess he was right.
So this morning we followed a road which just three months ago we would have called a track, but which we now consider to be a main drag. It wound us by a very different Lajamanu, which had shut down for its Sunday rest, then spat us out to the north, toward Kalkaringi and beyond.
Aboriginal place-names of the day:
GRONG GRONG: A Poor Camping Ground, Very Hot
ULOOM: Dry Land
PUNTPUNTPUNDALOO: A Bell-bird
COOMOOROOGUREE: Place where the Edible Grub is found in Grass Trees
COOMBULLNEE: Tail of a Dingo
THULLUNGNETHGIE: Place for Making Spears
Our educational theme for today is "The Road to Lajamanu."
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Posted on September 30, 2001 2:44 PM