Eleven Hundred Sand Dunes

by Helena Phillips

  He glares. I glare back.

  “Look, Bridey. We’ve had this conversation. I’m not letting Homarta handle me. It may be alright for you. It just doesn’t work for me. Let it go.”

  “Well, what about Flagran and Torrenclar? Why don’t you ask one of them?”

  He shakes his head. “They’ve had lots of chances to offer. They want me to tough it out.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’ll all work out somehow. They’re not going to leave us stranded in the desert.” He picks up his wine glass, giving me a wry smile, and we change the subject.

  Next stop Maree.

  This is an eye opener. The dusty town with its old facilities and preponderance of Utes make me think the desert, if it’s anything like this, will be horrible. Especially with Sandro unhappy. Josh loves the place. Camping there is grotty. There’s nothing to look at and no company. Sandro decides we should press on the next day. He asks Josh not to wander around in the middle of the night, and Josh reluctantly agrees to pass on his urge to visit the indigenous camp sprawled just outside the town. From here on, it’s desert for weeks.

  But, there’s desert, and there’s desert.

  Between Maree and William Creek, I begin to see what everyone raves about in our outback. It’s only ten thirty in the morning when the world around us begins to change. Foliage is extraordinary. I’m in raptures over the profusion of bright purple flowers hanging in bells on tall, moss coloured, bushes. The ground they’re growing in is cracked and crazed red mud. Also, from this unlikely bed springs bunches of daisy like flowers growing from sage green, low bushes with succulents springing out from inside them as they fight for the space in the rain filled earth. Half an hour later, we’re looking over towards a grey, clouded sky across landscape stretching to the horizon and filled with multiple varieties of shrub, some white leafed, some bright green, some almost yellow, and that’s just the foliage. This desert is filled with flowers; exquisite pink bells and lollipop bushes with popcorn heads. Tiny red and yellow orchids, bright blue bunches springing from red leafed nests and multitudes of tiny daisies everywhere. By the time we hit the Oodnadatta track, I’m completely hooked. There are no other places that could better describe the creativity of the Source’s work over all the eons. I want to wander in it forever. So does Josh. For a short period, Sandro’s fears are soothed while he shares its magic with us.

  Unlike the previous night, our camping is a happy, cheerful affair where we crack open beer and wine and, eating cheese, sit staring out at the wonder of the world. It’s peaceful, contented, and we are in complete harmony with each other.

  The next morning, we scramble up eager to press on up the Track to Oodnadatta. This is stunning. Bright blue gum leaves in little bushes are scattered over the ground. The old Ghan railway had once run along here, and we pull up to explore a tribute of sculptures in the form of aeroplanes standing on their tails!

  Then we hit Dalhousie Springs. The waterways are such a big surprise. A wonderland for birds and wildlife. We drive across a long, long bridge. Who would have imagined the desert would need such an extensive bridge to span its water ways. Red flowers with drooping pointed petals dominate there. Everything takes on the colour of the earth as the desert turns red, and we hit the mud holes. These are huge, deep puddles made by vehicles travelling back and forth through the wet season along distinct tracks. In most instances, we are able to divert around them.

  We stop to admire lizards baking in the sun on the road, and to my delight one allows me to pick it up and cradle it along my forearm. From there it snuggles into my warm body. Josh is entranced continuously. Many times, he thanks us for inviting him along and is told he’s only needed for his driving skills. This seems to reassure him if anything, although we’re teasing. He gets over his need to make up our generosity to him every time we have this conversation, and grins when he realizes it’s true! He is essential.

  Purple daisies in the Witjira National Park signal the beginning of the Simpson, and I see my first emu in the wild. The car is filthy from splashing through the mud. Josh and Sandro are delighted with it. The truck has been christened. We get bogged, but we have loads of fun. The Caretakers appear to help extricate us. They’re as silly as we are. Torrenclar’s all for rolling in the mud and Homarta joins him. It’s alright for them; they don’t have to deal with their clothes afterwards under camping conditions. Flagran is the most help reveling not so much in the mud as in the de-bogging equipment.

  One wheel has settled so deep into the puddle on the wheel tracks that the body of the truck is resting on the high point in the middle of the track. Under Flagran’s direction, Homarta and Torrenclar are put to use to lift one corner of the car, to act as trees from which the winch can be attached, and to pull out and forward on his directions. Unfortunately, the ‘trees’ have a mind of their own and regularly move on impulse to wherever occurs to them at the time. Sandro and Josh both end up in the mud, and from there are pulled into some mud wrestling with the Caretakers. Laughter rings out across the wilderness around us. I stay well away, and, when any of them come near me, I run off into the desert; but not far so I can watch the fun. Of course, it doesn’t last. Torrenclar grabs me and immerses me in the massive puddle while Sandro chooses that perfect moment for a long cuddle. Homarta is useful when it comes to stripping off. Her great bulk and the way she fends off intruders makes me love her more. But mud sticks, and we have to continue, cracking and drying out.

  It’s a tired and satisfied crew of three which pulls into the camping ground that night.

  The foliage in the Simpson Desert thickens at times and at others becomes a wilderness of low scrub alternating with bone rattling roads and more bogs. Massive red dunes alternate with large clay pans where the guys insist on doing wheelies, marking great circles in the white clay, and Josh learns to handle skids. At Mt Dare, we throw all the muddy clothes into the camp washing machine hoping it won’t clog. We have hugely satisfying pub meals of schnitzels and chips. Hot chips in the middle of the desert! Nothing tastes so good. The sunset here is stunning. Deep, rich reds alternating with long, slow, trailing greys completely cover the western sky. The best shots are taken from the roof of the truck once all the camping equipment has been disembarked. We stack the freezer with ice cream and yoghurt and continue the trip the next day high as eagles. It doesn’t last long, but you have to savour those moments.

  The Caretakers leave us to our devices in public camping grounds. Too odd. They join us again at the end of the following day when we pull up at a remote spot with no facilities. Sandro’s tired and sore. This time, I insist he allow Josh and me to set up camp. It’s a challenge to his masculinity, and he responds by grumping around until Josh pulls out his camp chair and shoves it at the back of his legs. There he sits and gives orders. We ignore him, handing out a beer. After the second one, he relaxes staring off into the desert. Flagran arrives and sits with him while I prepare the meal. Our freezer works well. We have defrosted chili chicken wraps. I give the chicken to Flagran to sort for us. Even if he hadn’t lit a fire, which of course he has, they would have been crisp, hot and crunchy. Nothing like it! Fresh salad (which had cost a fortune in Mount Dare) and a can of corn added a touch of freshness. There are hardly any dishes but even these are cleaned away before I relax. Sandro doesn’t seem to notice, and Josh just wants to be free to play with Flagran.

  We sing together that night. It’s been ages. Songs of the desert begin with Sandro and we all do our harmonizing thing. It sounds beautiful. Haunting. I’m sure there are instruments somewhere in the background. Music continues until Sandro peels off to bed, and Flagran, raising his eyebrows at us, runs after Josh who has headed into the desert. That leaves me with Homarta and Torrenclar. She rises saying, “I’ll be back soon, Bridey. Can you wait for me? I want to have a word with you?” I shoot her an anxious look, and she laughs. “Guilty conscious?”

  When she’d disappeared across the horizon, the calm settles over t
he quiet night spread out before us. “These are precious moments,” he says. My heart does a little skip. “I miss being able to talk to you on your own sometimes. I remember when I could turn up any time you were alone (you were often alone). Must be hard always being in company.”

  “Sometimes. It’s all beautiful. I wish I could sit on top of a sand dune for hours and take it all in.”

  “Well maybe you’ll get the chance when we spend two nights in one spot again.”

  “Will you come and sit with me?”

  “Let’s take it as it comes. Who knows what’s around the next corner.”

  He could be a bit keener. I go quiet, sulking, and he leaves. Just like that! I’m furious with him. He’s spoilt the little time we did have together.

  When Homarta returns, any fears about this being a serious talk dissolve when she gives me a massive hug, pulling me onto her knee, and tells me I’ve done a great job today, and she’s delighted to see me looking after Sandro so well. This is ruined by her saying “Sometimes you seem to be wanting to look after him, and other times you have huge expectations of him after he’s been driving all day. How about you take the wheel a bit more.”

  “I’m not comfortable in the sand. I’m frightened of getting us bogged and slowing everything down when we’re trying to get to a camp for the night.”

  “How come Josh doesn’t do more driving?”

  “He tries to sometimes, but Sandro gets grumpy with him, and then he doesn’t offer the next time.”

  “Well, you managed it today. Keep it up, eh?”

  I want to tell her about Torrenclar, but I don’t know how to say it. Sensing something, she goes quiet and waits putting her chin on top of my head. Her breath smells sweet like she’s been picking fresh herbs and eating them.

  “Torrenclar left really quickly after you went away. First he said, ‘These are precious moments.’ And then two minutes later he left. I think I must have said something. But, I don’t know what.”

  She is silent, mulling something over. “He seems to be struggling lately. Don’t blame yourself. I’m sure he wants to be with you.”

  “Well then why does he keep disappearing?”

  “Maybe the Source called him. Definitely travelling in the desert is difficult for the Caretaker for water.” She folds me into her and kisses my cheek. “Just love him Bridey. That’s all any of us want.”

  Each morning, the dunes are left in pristine condition from the light breezes of the night before. It’s as though the Source has had them swept clean. When I see it, I think of Elaris and how sweet she’d been, and how she should’ve been travelling with us enchanting us with her delicate ways and cheering us with her sweet voice. It makes me sad to think of her in the same moment as Ravesh with her slimy ways. Tracks of animals, crisscrossing each other and illustrating the busy highways travelled by lizards, emus, snakes and the odd group of camels, are all made clear in the mornings by the sweeping of the dunes. I’m in absolute heaven.

  But Torrenclar has gone distant again, and Sandro’s still grumping around. Homarta has a go at me, and it’s only been two days since our conversation when she was being encouraging. I think they’re all too hard on me. They expect too much. And Josh is getting in the way by annoying me all the time. When I tell him off, there’s always someone who frowns at me. Only Flagran tries to make him behave. You’d think Sandro would tell him to pull his head in, but he leaves me to look after myself.

  Contraception’s useful for knowing where you’re up to because you watch the pills run out each month. Having this looming in the middle of the desert seems the ultimate in inconvenience, but I’m not one for messing around with my cycle. Some of the difficulties ahead are, toilet stops need to be more frequent, and when you’re travelling with two males and you have to explain yourself, this is not good. Worry about how it is likely to pan out, coupled with PMT, put me in an unpleasant mood just as we reach the hardest stage of the trip. I’m not sure I’m going to like the really steep dunes, and if it pans out that they’re a negative, there are so many of them apparently still ahead of us. Instead of enjoying it, Sandro’s exuberance turns to irritability just as my moodiness sets in to stay. This is not good. We begin to snap at each other again, and Josh puts his head phones in.

  “Bridey can you clean up after lunch? We need to get going.”

  The wildflowers here are superb. It’s criminal not to stop and take them in. Lunch, apparently, was a food stop only, and I want to stretch my legs. Along the way this morning, I spotted some major lizards, but Sandro wouldn’t stop for me to look. Occasionally, kangaroos or wallabies or camel tracks appear, and we absolutely have to take photos. This means that getting to our next stop for the night is looking to be late, and Sandro’s not happy.

  “I’ll be back in two secs,” I call out, eager to head over the hill in search of what has left that exquisite trail in the sand. Flowers here are completely different from the ones we saw yesterday. Desert is nothing like what I’d imagined. Everything flourishes because there’s been rain, but even if there hadn’t been, the terrain is still varied and interesting all the time. Hour after hour, we can stare out the window taking it all in. Not stopping to be in it seems such a waste.

  By the time I turn around, everything’s packed into the car, and Josh and Sandro are in their seats waiting for me. Being rushed like this makes me feel frustrated and guilty at the same time. It isn’t right to leave all the work to the boys, but then my rights are important too. What if we did this trip only once in my lifetime, and it had sped past because we were in a hurry all the time. As soon as I hit the seat, Sandro starts up the car without a word, and we travel along in stony silence for half an hour. Then I make the mistake of deciding to fight for my rights.

  “What are you so angry about?” I turn to see Josh has his headphones on, and his eyes closed. “If you’re angry about me not cleaning up after lunch, you should have left it.”

  “You can be so selfish!”

  “What! Because I wanted to look around before we took off again. I’ve been sitting in this seat hour after hour, and when I stretch my legs, I’m in trouble.” Fury battles with guilt because I should have put the lunch things away before leaving. Josh had made the rolls, and Sandro had lay in the sand resting his leg. Silence sets in again.

  We don’t stop for a break from then until we find a reasonable camp site. Jumping out of the car, I try to get to the tent to pull it out, but Sandro tells me to back off while he pulls out the table and chairs, and so I stomp off to have a wee and don’t come back for half an hour.

  My head’s aching, and the cramps have started. But the worst is I’m in a shit of a mood, and dangerous to be around. Homarta has arrived, but, when I try to enlist her sympathy, she isn’t interested. You’d think, with all her mothering traits, she would understand, but instead of supporting me, she sends me off to help Sandro set up the tent. He’s tired and not talking to me. His limp’s really bad, and that makes me feel terrible, and in an even worse mood.

  I decide cooking dinner might help and maybe after that Homarta might give me something to relieve the grumpiness, but the rice sticks to the saucepan, and the meat’s still frozen, and Flagran’s not around when I need him. Everything goes wrong, and we eat in silence, me thinking they hate the food, and why do I even bother. At least, the dishes are not my job. But, Sandro goes to lie down in the tent, and Josh’s off sitting on a dune looking out over the scenery lost in his own thoughts. Leaving the dishes will only infuriate Sandro when he’s already horrible, so I do them myself crashing them around to let Homarta know I’m not happy. When I’ve finished, she’s disappeared, and she doesn’t come back until morning.

  Rather than cuddling up and working out what’s gone wrong together, we go to sleep facing away from each other. The night’s restless and cramps keep me awake. Dawn arrives to another headache and no sign of my period. Sandro rises late and mooches around all day; one we’ve planned as a rest stop.

&nb
sp; When you’re used to having time on your own and walking off from people and places you aren’t happy with, a trip like this gets right under your skin because you can’t escape. If we’d been travelling in three cars, for instance, there might have been times when I could have been quiet with my thoughts, but we’re not. You can’t even wander off too far for a walk in the desert because everything looks similar in this spot, and it’s easy to get lost.

  Sixteen

  Josh is always trying to get my attention by poking at me, trying to engage me in silly games and generally looking for attention. When it began, his silliness was fun and a bit of game, but now I’m hormonal, everything’s annoying me, and it keeps slipping out no matter how much I struggle to keep it in check. Several times over the past couple of days I snapped, and he was hurt and surprised, but it didn’t stop him. When I screamed at him this morning, it was because I wanted privacy to wash. It’s been increasingly frustrating and difficult having to struggle with clothes and hair and sand and grotty towels, and he decides to tease me by sticking his head around the corner of the make-shift shower and pretending to look. All I can see is his hair above the side wall, so my reaction’s completely over the top, but it helps to scream at someone. Sandro gives him a cuff, but I know he thinks I’m overreacting.

  When Homarta catches the end of this scene she makes the mistake of saying that Josh doesn’t deserve the way I spoke to him. I lose it and tell her she knows nothing; tell her to leave me alone, and it was Josh’s fault; and she wasn’t here so how could she know; and then when she remonstrates with me, I tell her she can fuck off. She’s not happy.