Akubra Country

The Jeep was not happy. A quick call to my engine rebuilder at Miner’s Mate in Mt Isa was my first call. The symptoms were quickly diagnosed. There was a problem with one of the intercooler hoses and the computer had put the Jeep in Limp mode to prevent overheating. There was no immediate drama but I’d need to find a mechanic sooner rather than later to find’nfix. I was leaving The Scenic Rim to head to Warick anyway, so after a few “Sorry mate”‘s, I found a mechanic who could see me first thing the next morning. Great! Now I had to get to Warwick by nightfall and it was already after 3pm – 125klms.

Now, Limp mode is barely noticeable when your driving unshackled, but when you’re towing a van, it’s diabolical. It’s like your car has been on the green all day. Anything that even smells like uphill, sees the acceleration crash through the gears to ‘chugging’. It was going to be a long 125klms, constantly paddle shifting through the gears and one eye on the side mirror to see who was cursing behind me. About 40 minutes in the true horror of my situation dawned. Between me and sanctuary was Cunningham’s Gap.

Cunningham’s Gap, a 15klm climb of 787metres or 2582′, ALL uphill. Damnation without relief! Your worst nightmare -25kph, shuffling between first and second gear, a howling westerly coming at you head on and a blazing afternoon sun hitting you square in the eye. Thank god for the slow lanes. I don’t know how long it actually took to get the top. I was in survival mode. Finally, this pitiful entourage crested the last incline and some semblance of normalcy was restored. It took me about three hours to travel that 125klms. I arrived in the fading light and squatted with a good whisky to calm the nerves.

The next morning, I fronted to Byrne Automotive and Adam had it sorted in 5 minutes. One end of the big intercooler hose had wiggled loose ever so slightly, but enough to spark the computer into action. Well, it was like the Jeep had been sneakin’ lines while Adan had his head under the bonnet. We roared out of Warick an headed for Dalby. I had a few days before I was due to arrive at the farm, so I was pointed to a big overflow truck park next to the Dalby Regional Sales Yard to sit tight.

Now there are a lot of sales yards for sheep and cattle around the traps but this one is the second biggest in Australia, processing 200,00 cattle each year. It’s so famous, that they actually run guided tours here.

The weekly sale was two days away and cattle trains were coming in from out west, unloading and penning them ready for the auction. I still could have paid no mind, but when they woke me up at 2am the next morning, I looked out and saw the yards ablaze in lights, cattle still being unloaded. OK, I had to take a closer look.

The vision certainly took what little outback romance there may have been. Bleak, stark and a twinge of hopelessness. The cattle would have no idea about their fate, but occasionally, one would give you ‘that’ look. Sales day would need to be a pretty spectacular affair.

A crisp blue sky morning yet, even at 7am, the auctioneers were already baying across the pens. The walkways were lined with about 30 prospectors, all looking remarkably similar in their attire, sort of like kids on a school excursion. The bidding was lightning fast and in a language that only the bidders would understand.

Up and down the boardwalks they shuffled, auctioneers on one side of the pens, bidders on the other. The buyers seemed familiar with each other, jocular remarks with the occasional put-down peppered the drone of the auctioneer.

I’m sure there were some sellers amongst the throng as well as re-stockers. The canteen was doing a brisk trade in coffee and meat pies. Cows were being herded into different pens ready for loading. Even as I was walking back across the railway line, the chorus of the auctioneer and his choir of helpers, drifted through the warming air.