by Alan Moore
Suddenly conditions changed. As Petri rounded a corner he slammed on his brakes. The truck skidded wildly across the gravel road. He fought to regain control, cursing himself for not concentrating. He brought the sliding vehicle under control and relaxed. Almost in the centre of the road was a battered yellow Holden utility, surrounded by a group of men. Wearing jeans and singlets or check-patterned shirts, they were standing around looking at the vehicle. Petri stopped and reversed back, angry at their choice of parking place.
‘What kind of a dumb place is that to stop?’ he angrily asked the group.
‘Sorry, mate. We broke down an’ bin trying ta git it off the road when youse come along too fast,’ answered one of the men, cleverly shifting the onus of responsibility on to Petri.
Petri didn’t rise to the bait. ‘Well, I don’t see much moving. Anyway, which way are you heading?’
‘We from Cundeelee. Trying ta git back there from Kal when the bloody ute broke down.’
Although he’d never been there Petri was vaguely familiar with the existence of the Cundeelee Mission north of the main east-west Trans-Australia Railway line.
‘Okay. You want me to have a look?’
‘Yeah, thanks mate. But reckon it’s serious.’
Petri, although competent at carrying out minor repairs, was no expert. He looked under the open bonnet. With the amount of oil that had seeped into the sand, the smell of burnt grease and the apparent crack in the head, Petri knew it would be nigh on impossible to get the utility going again. The radiator cap was off and there was no water in the radiator.
He looked up, ‘Too bloody right, mate! It is serious. This ute isn’t going anywhere.’
‘Can youse give us a lift?’
Petri did a quick mental calculation. He was about a hundred kilometres from the mission, in the opposite direction to Kalgoorlie. It would be at least two hours to the mission, and then about the same to get back to where he was. By then it would be dark and he still had to find a suitable campsite.
‘There’s no way I can fit all of you in my Tojo, too many.’ He looked around the dejected group of ten. ‘Anyway I’m heading the other way. To Kal.’
‘Yeah, okay. Thanks anyway.’
Petri went back to the Toyota and stopped at the open door. It seemed mean to leave them stranded out there. There was little likelihood of another vehicle coming along for ages.
He turned back to the men. ‘Alright, I reckon I could take a couple of you blokes back to Cundeelee to get help and you’re sure going to need a helluva lot of help with that heap of crap you’ve been driving.’
There was no immediate response. The men started talking amongst themselves while Petri waited for a reply, wondering if they’d even heard what he thought was a pretty generous offer. Then two of the men stepped out of the group. One said, ‘I’m Jimmy. Me an’ Tommy’ll come with ya. Thanks mate.’
Petri put the maps lying on the passenger seat into a box on the back of the utility to make room. The two men squeezed in and he started the engine. With a wave to the rest of the group he did a U-turn in the sand and headed east.
Conversation in the cabin was not easy at the best of times because of engine noise but the two men said little in response to questions. Petri had to say, ‘Excuse me, what was that?’ so many times because of the men’s strong accents that eventually he just drove without speaking and his passengers likewise remained silent.
When they arrived, Petri was surprised at the size of the place. In conversation with some of the men he discovered that the settlement had a school, small hospital and acted as a centre for many of the local people, displaced by activities of farming, mining and new laws of land ownership. One of the older men explained that there were people there from many different groups and he described them as ‘People of the Spinifex’, coming from different remote desert areas and bringing with them a variety of dialects and languages. Some spoke a little English but most only their local dialect. Quite commonly communication was by way of sign language or dance.
As it turned out, the whole episode was serendipitous as Petri was able to meet up with some of the people who regarded the land on which he was working as their responsibility. He was introduced to some elders of the Wankatja people and this gave him an opportunity to explain why he was there and what he was doing. Even though it was designated ‘Crown Land,’ Petri knew that these elders regarded themselves its custodians. When they asked what he was doing there he explained his regional exploration program. The older men he met were interested but warned him there were places sacred to them and he should avoid going there. Petri asked for permission to camp nearby and meet again for more detailed discussions in the morning. Knowing which areas to avoid would be useful information for him, not to mention an important courtesy. The men agreed to his request.
When Petri arrived back at the Mission early the next morning the meeting was already in progress. He waved and received a wave in return but no invitation to join the discussions. A shady spot beckoned so he sat down and waited. As time passed he found himself scratching patterns in the sand, doodling in his notebook and thinking that he should be on his way. He stood, walked around impatiently and returned to his shady spot. He was almost ready to pack up and leave when one of the older men came across and invited him to join the circle.
The meeting differed from those Petri was accustomed to in his dealings with AGO or Spex. Here, it was not a case of the majority rules, or a decision by the senior management, but a case of finding a consensus. The group explained again to Petri that there was no objection to his working in their land but there were some places he should not go because they were of special significance.
Petri asked, ‘How will I know where they are?’
One of the men, grey haired and with dark eyes set in a heavily wrinkled face, asked to see his maps. Around him crowded several others, all of indeterminate age but clearly older than the young men who stayed at a respectful distance. Petri unrolled his maps and placed a collection of the aerial photographs on the ground.
‘Okay. If you can show me on the map where I must not sample then I’ll avoid those areas.’ He pointed to the Mission. ‘This is where we are now, so’s you can get your bearings.’
The old man shook his head, ‘No, some places secret. You show me your places and I say yes or no.’
‘Oh! That’s not quite so easy. Some places I haven’t fixed yet. It depends on how accessible they are. Here, where the black numbers are, is where I’ve already collected.’
The elder looked at the map.
Petri continued. ‘I’m sorry if any of them are in places I shouldn’t have gone, but I didn’t think. Or know.’
After a study of the map, comparing it with the photographs, the elder said, ‘No. It’s okay. No problem.’
‘What about the places I still want to go? I’ve marked them with these little circles but the actual sample might be taken further up or down-stream. Depends on how easy to get there.’
This time several men looked at the map, pointing and talking among themselves. Eventually the same man nodded and said, ‘No problems.’
‘Great, that makes it easier.’
‘But this one,’ the old man pointed to one of the circles, ‘Ya take care. Steep bank to creek an’ could roll. Better come in ‘ere.’ He traced an alternate route for easier access.
‘Thanks, I’ll do that. I appreciate your help.’
One collection point was close to an area, which, on the aerial photographs, looked like another small settlement. According to the maps it was in the nature reserve and there should be no agricultural activity there.
Petri queried this and Tommy told him. ‘It’s very old place, long time ‘go, work for CSIRO.’ Everyone knew the acronym for the Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation. Tommy went on. ‘White fellas there now. Keepin’ bees. Makin’ honey. We don’ go there. Big fence all round. Them fellas chase us. One has gun so we stays aw
ay. Only once, ‘bout two years ago, his wife had baby an’ he come an’ he ask Jenny for help.’ He pointed to a group of women sitting apart from the men. ‘Jenny don’ talk much, she’s like speckled bird, don’ b’long, but good for babies comin’.’
It was close to midday by the time all of the sampling sites had been dealt with and the areas approved. Petri rolled up his maps and stacked the photographs, thanked the group for their help and, with handshakes all round, got back into his Toyota.
‘Ya wanna stay for lunch?’ asked Tommy.
‘Thanks, but I really need to get moving. Many thanks for all your help.’
‘No worries. Thanks for ya helpin’ for us.’
Resuming his delayed journey to Kalgoorlie. On the way back he passed the yellow Holden ute being towed towards Cundeelee by an equally battered looking brown Holden ute. They passed each other with just a friendly wave.
P etri took very little time off during the Christmas break. The summer heat made it too difficult to continue his work in the West Australian desert, so he went through the laboratory results. These were mixed, though promising. By plotting them on maps it was clear that some areas were worthy of further investigation. Further detailed sampling would be necessary at several points. One of the most important sampling sites lay on a sand-filled river channel that passed close to the old CSIRO station.
The results from the chemist were less promising. It seemed that the high salt content of the ground water was still causing problems with extracting dissolved gold. The report given to Petri indicated that the high salinity of the ground water was causing precipitation of magnesium salts in the pipes, which carried the gold-enriched liquids back up to the surface, more rapidly than anticipated. This encrustation in the pipes reduced the flow of gold-enriched liquids to a trickle. Petri took comfort in the final conclusion that ‘work is continuing and it is hoped that a resolution to the problem of precipitation of magnesium chloride and other salts in the pipes will be found in the near future.’
Prior to his next field excursion Petri he needed to find out more about the CSIRO station. The men at Cundeelee indicated that the occupants there were both armed and ‘unfriendly’. As a geologist on legitimate business Petri had every legal right to enter property, public or private. But having a legal right and overcoming local property owner’s aggression are two different things. Diplomacy is one of the skills acquired by most exploration geologists. Being armed with accurate information would prepare him for any likely debate in the field. He headed for the suburb of Wembley and the CSIRO laboratories. It took some time to find somebody who knew about the remote station at the edge of the western margin of the Great Victorian Desert. At last found an elderly scientist who knew something.
‘Closed it down in the 50s,’ Dr Davidson told him.
‘What was it all about?’ asked Petri.
‘I wasn’t directly involved and most of the team that worked there have long gone. As I recall it was part of the agricultural work of the organisation. For some reason the water in the bores there was a lot less saline. Some of the scientists in agriculture had an idea that the land could be used as part of a pastoral lease.’
‘Yes, it is good country in terms of vegetation cover for feed but there’s no decent water.’
‘The idea was that if the water from those bores was potable, at least for cattle, then a viable agricultural industry could be established.’
‘And?’
‘Well, the water was all right, not good but okay, certainly good enough to drink. The problem was the rate of delivery. As soon as they tried to pump out more than a couple of hundred gallons per day it dried up. The whole programme closed down after a couple of years. And anyway, it was running out of money because the director spent too much on the infrastructure.’
‘What happened to it?’
‘As I recall they left most of the buildings, just packed up and left. I think the place is leased now. It is very remote so God alone knows what the lessee is doing out there. I recall that someone once told me he’s a bee-keeper but that was some time ago and it might have changed since then.’
This was useful information. Petri knew that if he had to sample there he had a legal right. He also now knew that the water supply for any gold extraction would be limited, even if the salt problem were not as severe as elsewhere. He decided to pay a visit to the Department of Agriculture and find out more about the lease.
A few hours later he emerged from the austere government building armed with the knowledge that the lease was indeed for bees and production of bee products. Leases were granted over areas of crown land for specific periods and were renewable. Several had been granted to the same person over a number of years in the vicinity of the old CSIRO research station and never been contested. All of the paperwork was in order and the amount of honey, bee glue and beeswax produced had been reported as per requirements of the lease and the department. In addition, the lessee had filed reports for the breeding of disease-free queen bees, a profitable export business. In spite of its remoteness it seemed a successful, if seasonally highly variable, operation probably because of the proximity to the abundant wild flowers in the vicinity and the lack of other beekeepers in the area. The officers told him that the beekeepers moved their hives around over substantial distances to follow the blossoms. If the wildflowers failed in the north they could move to the forests down south.
After dinner that evening Petri put on a new long-playing record, a recording of Rigoletto. The singing of the young American tenor in the role of Count Monterone impressed Petri as his final notes of the aria reached the rarely achieved high D. A tale of abduction and seduction, murder and curses, Petri engrossed himself in the enjoyment of the music, fascinated by the cultured presentation of such an awful story.
* * *
Later that year, on his return from a visit to the West Australian Department of Mines, there was a telegram in Petri’s office. He tore it open. The message was brief and to the point.
Shelley and I are engaged. No date for wedding. Off to Royal School of Mines, London Wednesday next week. Can I spend weekend with you before flying out? Alec.
In spite of the two hour time difference between Perth and Melbourne, Petri realised there was still time to phone Alec before he left the university. He dialled the direct line and was relieved when his friend answered.
‘Well, congratulations, you dark horse!
Alec chuckled. ‘Well, hello Petri. Nice to hear from you.’
‘Yes, just got your telegram. Exciting news!’ His cheerful and positive congratulations belied his jealous disappointment.
‘What are you talking about: the post-doc at RSM or the engagement?’
‘The engagement, silly. I knew you’d applied for the post-doc. I knew you’d get that. But the engagement is a surprise.’
‘Yeah, I reckon I surprised even myself.’
‘I know we’ve talked about this and probably now is not the time to raise it, but how do you feel about Katherine now?’
‘Petri, I honestly thought I’d never find another love after Katherine disappeared, and I still find myself thinking of her all the time. But, after six years, I’ve finally given up hope. The law says that after someone has been missing for seven years they can be declared legally dead, so I suppose I have to accept the reality of that. Not knowing what happened is the most painful part. Shelley understands.’
‘Really? She’s is okay with everything?’
‘Yes. We’ve been going out for a long time, as you know, and have taken things really slow. She never pushed. But we get on so well together. In any event, we are not planning to get married for at least a year.’
‘It was obvious to everyone but you that she’s been keen on you for ages.’
‘Maybe. But I didn’t want to see it. She never gave any indication directly. Only lately have I realised my own feelings towards her. You know we’ve both had issues and I wanted to make sure it wasn’t somethi
ng out of sympathy or on the rebound.’
‘Anyway, it’s good news. I hope you’ll both be wonderfully happy. And of course you can stay here whenever you come to Perth.’
‘Thanks, I appreciate that. It makes a bit of a change from your visiting here!’
‘I’m only sorry that it is for such a short time. Couldn’t you make it longer?’
‘Not really. I have to finish my course of lectures here before leaving, and the international flights are already booked. It’s a post-doctoral scholarship and I’ll be away for about six months, which is really a very short period of time for research. I arrive in Perth on TAA372. It arrives about six in the morning, an ungodly hour, so don’t worry about meeting me, I’ll just grab a taxi.’
‘No way. Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m an early riser so I’ll meet you at the airport. We’ll breakfast at Miss Maud’s on the way to my place. I’ll even take a couple of days off and show you around.’
‘Are you sure about that? I don’t want to interfere with your work.’
‘No that can wait; you don’t come this way very often and your visits over here have always been too short’
‘Well, that’s the nature of things. Always, busy!’
‘How do you fancy a trip to the forests in the south and the new wine areas? Or wherever you want to go.’
‘It all sounds great. We can make plans once I get there. There’s lots to talk about, and that’s not even thinking of the geology. By the way, how’s the Tertiary channel gold going?’
‘Not as good as I’d hoped. We’ll talk when you get here.’
‘Okay. I look forward to that. Cheers, see you soon.’
‘Bye.’ Petri put down the phone. He always greatly enjoyed Alec’s company and looked forward to his visit and the opportunity to talk shop. He was genuinely happy for Alec’s engagement but deep down he knew that, had he lived closer, Shelley would have been in his own sights for a long-term relationship, even marriage. Proximity was as important as compatibility and he lived on the opposite side of the continent. His frequent visits to Melbourne had been enough to establish good friendships but not long-term relationships. In any event he could not compete with and so betray his friendship with Alec. Poor Alec had suffered enough and deserved a second shot at life. Petri felt that he was going to be the eternal bachelor unless he changed career or made a substantial effort to socialise. He sighed and wondered how that could be done and still balance his. He met so few single women and those he could relate to seemed unable to understand his need for, nor his love of, the remote and lonely parts of the country.