When the Dust Settles

by Cook, R

  Luke then tried to convince the ranger that his clothes had been stolen from his bag in the van, but he wasn’t doing a very good job.

  ‘So someone broke into your car and stole your clothes out of your bag?’ she asked suspiciously.

  ‘Yeah, that’s right. How about that photo?’ asked Luke cheekily.

  After further discussion, Luke backed away from his theft claims and gave into the pressure. He confessed before being told to return to the car to get dressed. It certainly proved to be an eventful afternoon.

  We also later took the time to visit Disneyland in California for the kids (and the bigger kids in all of us) and see the Grand Canyon towards the end of our journey. It capped off what was another memorable excursion overseas.

  In my study, I was able to find solutions to the most significant challenges that face injured producers. It was extremely difficult to find the relevant technology for each specific requirement as each individual’s needs vary significantly. My report focused on several main areas where I believed the best results could be achieved. They included machinery and workplace modifications, animal-handling equipment, adaptable technology for specific needs and, of course, the good old working dog. By combining these key areas and using them in conjunction with each other, it is possible for a disabled producer like me to return to work. There are several different designs of four-wheel drive, all-terrain vehicles that can have controls modified to give both the disabled and elderly the ability to access their properties. Pneumatic- and hydraulic-operated cattle-handling equipment can easily be adapted in numerous ways, allowing someone with limited movement to process and draft cattle, particularly with a well-designed set of yards. Remote and automatic drafting is currently standard practice in the sheep and dairy industry and I was able to identify several companies, both in Australia and abroad, that are working towards commercial applications for the beef industry. Working dogs are also a common feature on many Australian cattle and sheep properties. If used properly, dogs proved to be a low-stress method of moving stock and one which could be adopted by most injured farmers. I met one Nebraskan cattle rancher who’d suffered a stroke in the late 1970s, leaving him wheelchair-bound. He lost the ability to speak and whistle but can still manage working dogs. Using a touch-screen computer on his lap, he simply selects one of up to forty commands which is then ‘spoken’ through the computer’s loudspeaker.

  I was fortunate to meet many people working within agriculture who had suffered a disability or setback in one way or another, who all shared my outlook on life. Rather than whingeing about the hand they were dealt, these people just dusted themselves off and got on with their life. The Nuffield process afforded me the chance to explore countless possibilities for myself and others in the future. It widened my thinking process and gave more heart to my belief in returning to work. I am now working hard to put some of the ideas into practice as I prepare to move home. Despite the tiring and hectic travel, being involved in such study was extremely rewarding. I may have been the first to take on a Nuffield scholarship from the seat of a powered wheelchair, but I certainly hope I’m not the last.

  Returning home from the US, I was completely humbled to receive several awards. The first were the Pride of Australia, Northern Territory Courage Medal and the National Courage Medal, which were presented to me at a ceremony in Sydney. Both Sarah and I were overwhelmed by the recognition. In my acceptance speech, which was on live television and in front of many famous personalities, I concluded the only way I knew how. I thanked my family for believing in me and, even though it was my name on the award, I accepted it in honour of my beautiful wife’s dedication, love and support. I was also named the Northern Territory Local Hero as part of the 2012 Australia Day Awards. For the honour, all the state and territory award recipients travelled to Canberra for receptions at the Governor-General’s Government House and Prime Minister’s Lodge. As we were exiting the stage following the announcement of the national winner, four musicians were preparing their instruments backstage. One of them was blocking my exit as he plugged in his guitar. He politely excused himself before we had a short chat about the weather and then I wheeled away thinking he was a pretty nice bloke.

  ‘Rob, do you know who that was?’ asked Sarah excitedly.

  ‘Yeah, he told me his name,’ I replied indignantly.

  ‘That was INXS, you know, the band!’ said Sarah.

  ‘Oh yeah, I’ve heard of them,’ I replied, trying to keep my cool.

  It was a surreal experience, meeting so many people who were famous for different reasons, including Prime Minister Julia Gillard, Governor-General Quentin Bryce, INXS, Spiderbait, Bryce Courtney, Adam Gilchrist and Judith Durham. Being involved in those awards gave me strength to realise the importance of having a positive outlook. Had I decided that my life was too tough to bear when I had woken in the Adelaide hospital, I would never have been exposed to such a wonderful life. If any of the hardships I have overcome since the helicopter accident could inspire just one person in a similar situation, then I would be satisfied.

  20

  TANAMI WALK

  ‘I would rather attempt something great and fail, than to do nothing at all and succeed.’ That’s a quote from American writer Robert H. Schuller that I adopted to get me through the hard times and one of my biggest challenges to date, tackling the Tanami. Although Sarah and I managed to have the majority of my carers’ travel expenses met by the insurer, there were so many other costs associated with my scholarship that I had to cover myself. I needed to raise money, but how?

  I had already surprised my doctors by leading such an active life, visiting the station, camping all over Australia and even fishing in the Queensland Gulf, but they still doubted my chance of ever returning home full time. The old adage of telling someone they can’t do something and they’ll go out and do it anyway, was a good description of my situation. I knew there was a way for me not only to survive but also to prosper in one of Australia’s toughest environments and my Nuffield scholarship was focusing on just that. So what better way to prove my body could handle the severe heat and chilling cold, than to put it through its paces by taking a stroll in my own backyard? I decided I would drive my wheelchair across the Tanami Desert from Suplejack to Alice Springs, a stretch of 750 kilometres. A challenge like this would certainly test my endurance, both mentally and physically, and I hoped it would emphasise just how powerful the mind can be, when it’s really needed. It was the perfect opportunity to showcase my ability, as opposed to my disability.

  From the moment word got around that I was going to take on the hike, support came from all over Australia. We were flooded with encouragement through letters and notes of moral support. Friends, relatives and numerous media outlets were all on board to support me. The logistics were simple, Loretta and Jake would drive the lead vehicle with a warning sign, I would drive my wheelchair as fast as it would let me and Sarah and the kids would follow me towing the gooseneck. Limbunya Station loaned us a cold room trailer for food, Caltex supplied us diesel and the Kalkarindji meatworks gave us beef. My now sister-in-law Leza designed our logo and WorkWear printed it on various pieces of merchandise, while Connellan Airways was one of the major financial contributors, along with hundreds of others making donations. But there was one individual who decided he would take his support to another level and walk the entire way with me: my friend from Queensland and Alice Springs, police officer Luke Bevan. Luke was in need of a break from work and a bit of an adventure so I signed him up to come along for the ride. Well, it was more a ride for me and one hell of a power walk for Luke. With an estimated travelling speed of six kilometres an hour for an average of six hours per day, I would have to allow twenty-four days to complete the trek, with a target of thirty-six kilometres each day. Midway through the trip, with the organisational skills of Tiani, we planned to host a ‘halfway dinner’ meeting point for supporters on Mount Doreen Station as a way to thank my sponsors and celebrate the middle
point of my journey.

  On 23 May 2011, Mum and Dad waved us goodbye from the Suplejack homestead and away we went, beginning our walk through the Wireless Hill paddock. I had bought another four-wheel drive chair, which was faster than my first Magic Mobility chair, but it also chewed through more battery power. So between swapping wheelchairs and trying to charge one with the generator in the gooseneck while I drove the other, our progress was slow. My confidence took a hit on the second day when we had major delays and I began to wonder whether I would actually meet my daily kilometre quota. The six-hour daily goal was really to limit my exposure to the sun and heat in the middle of the day. The plan was for us to walk three hours in the morning and three hours in the afternoon but we had to tweak the times in order to fit in more kilometres along the way. Fortunately, the weather was good at the beginning and not too hot for me. Luke had to walk briskly and even jog to keep up with the faster wheelchair, but even so he was handling the walk well. Sarah would often drive ahead and anticipate the distance to where we would finish the day so she could have the kids bathed, the fire lit and dinner cooked with a smile for us when we arrived. As usual, we were able to shower and sleep in the back of the gooseneck like we had the year before through Queensland.

  As we passed the Tanami Gold Mine and the Granites Gold Mine, both companies encouraged us to pull in to make use of their facilities for a couple of days at a time. So we would unhook the gooseneck and the other trailers and carry on without them. Each afternoon, Sarah, Jake or Loretta would pick us up from where we’d stopped, which we marked with pink tape at the side of the road, as well as taking GPS coordinates. The next morning we’d be dropped off where we had finished and continue on our way. As a stroke of luck we were able to watch a National Rugby League State of Origin game on television at the Tanami Gold Mine with a few cold beers. It was even more enjoyable seeing Queensland take the series 1–0. We had many visitors every day on our journey across the Tanami Track, the majority of whom were road train drivers. I got to know the drivers over the UHF as they would pass me one day fully loaded headed west and then empty on their return. Every road train slowed down as they passed so we wouldn’t be choked in dust. It might not sound like a big deal for the driver to slow down, but for a truck with a heavy load to lose its momentum on such rough corrugation meant they had to rattle themselves to pieces just to get going again. The corrugations also caused me problems trying to maintain my top speed, and I’d bump away for an hour or so before I’d need Loretta and Jake to reposition me. Luke liked the short rest breaks as it meant he could grab a drink and use the chance to take a load off his feet. My Uncle Steve, with his wife Judy, made the trip from south-east Queensland to Suplejack to help out where they could. Between Steve and Dad, they designed a steel corrugation buster to drag behind the lead vehicle. Its effect was like a grader, smoothing out the tops of the bigger corrugations and making the ground easier for me to drive along. It became my saviour and we used this nifty piece of equipment whenever we could.

  Unfortunately, as we approached the end of the first week, Luke was plagued with blisters and was forced to give his feet a rest. I genuinely wanted to wait for him until his feet recovered, but we had a tight schedule to stick to and pulling up for a couple of days wasn’t an option. So we made the decision together that Luke would hitch a ride in the car for a day or two and when his feet were healed enough, he would get out again and walk with me. I certainly missed having Luke beside me for those two days, not having someone to give me a drink or straighten up my hat. Instead I’d have to shake my head like a wild man to get the attention of whoever was driving behind me. Our elderly friends Norma and Rod were travelling with us for some of the trip and Norma very kindly offered to walk with me. However, I was keen to lift the pace for the time that Luke was missing.

  ‘It’s OK, Rob,’ said Norma. ‘I’ll walk at my speed and you drive at yours.’

  ‘No worries,’ I told her, and off we went.

  It wasn’t long before I pulled away from Norma, but I wasn’t entirely sure just how far I was in front because I couldn’t see behind me without stopping. With the support vehicle and Sarah still packing up lunch, my only companion was our bull Arab dog called Chase, a beautiful family pet and a very protective one at that. Instead of riding in the back of the ute she had run alongside me for the whole journey. I often struck up a good conversation with Chase, me doing all the talking obviously, and her doing all the listening. On one particular day as I was flying solo with Chase at top speed, I ran into some loose, sandy corrugations. Without slowing down I tried to negotiate my way through them, but the front wheels dug into the sand and sent me sideways. The Tanami got the better of me as my chair tipped over on its side, taking me with it.

  This was no ordinary crash in the desert. The rollover happened at a snail’s pace. Even a slow-going turtle would have put my momentum to shame. As I lay there with my face half buried in the sand and strapped in the chair, there was little else to do than to stare down the long, lonely road ahead of me. The shimmering heat haze camouflaged the true distances of the track as it snaked its way over the horizon.

  What the fuck am I doing here? I asked myself. Will this trip prove anything? Does it mean anything?

  Before I had a chance to contemplate an answer to my questions, I could hear Norma’s screams cutting through the silence of the desert. She mustn’t have been too far behind me.

  ‘Oh my God, Rob, I knew I should have been with you,’ she said once she caught up. ‘I should have jogged with you.’

  ‘Norma, it’s not your fault, don’t worry about it,’ I reassured her. ‘Can you tell me if my arm is underneath the chair?’

  ‘No, I can see both of them, they’re fine,’ she replied.

  ‘Are either of my legs under the chair?’ I asked.

  ‘No, they are just lying out on the sand,’ she told me, having a good look around the chair.

  Norma tried to lift me, but I was much too heavy. So once we decided I was in no immediate danger of pressure sores, Norma headed back to meet the support vehicle. I had forgotten how far we had come since lunchtime and I wasn’t sure just how far back the other guys would be. It could be some time before Norma reached them. Again, I was left by myself with only Chase alongside me who was leaning over me, panting in the sun.

  ‘Chase, be like Lassie and go and get help girl,’ I told her hopefully.

  To my surprise, Chase licked her lips and took off behind me in the same direction Norma was heading. I could no longer hear her panting or scratching, just dead silence. I figured our dog had actually understood me and was off to find help, trotting up the road. It was going to make for a great story. Some time later I heard the roar of my HiLux hurtling down the road and skidding to a halt not far from where I lay. Luke and Sarah jumped out and rushed over to help me.

  ‘Oh shit, Rob, are you all right?’ asked Sarah.

  ‘Yeah, none of my body is under the chair is it?’ I asked for confirmation.

  ‘No, you’re all fine,’ replied a relieved Sarah.

  ‘Well, could you grab the camera and take a photo?’ I was never one to miss a Kodak moment.

  It wasn’t until months later when I was looking through photos of the trip that I came across the one of me in my crashed wheelchair. As I had a closer look, there in the background, lying flat out behind my chair was Chase. The lazy bitch had been there the whole time. While I was thinking she was a wonderful rescue dog, in reality she was just a bit tired and buried her head in the sand.

  ‘OK, Rob, you’ve had a fall,’ said Luke very slowly and loudly as he stood over me.

  ‘It’s Sunday 29 May 2011, we are on the Tanami and you are doing a charity walk. I’m going to touch your leg now, Rob, and I want you to tell me if you can feel it.’

  ‘Piss off idiot,’ I said with a laugh.

  After a few more photos Sarah and Luke dragged me out of the chair and lifted me into the HiLux. Fortunately, my trusty steed, otherwi
se known as a wheelchair, wasn’t too badly knocked about. We went back to the Granites Gold Mine to have a closer inspection of my body.

  It was becoming a more memorable trip by the day as Luke and I continued to power towards Alice Springs. To pass the time we’d tell each other jokes and stories, and if we ran out of things to talk about, we just focused on the barren desert with its red sandy soil and spinifex grasses. It didn’t take long for Luke to begin to favour the slower chair, which he nicknamed ‘Old Betts’. The chair didn’t make his job much easier as he still had to cover the same amount of ground, but it did allow him to walk at a constant pace. The ‘Fast Chair’ was completely different and even when it was knocked down a gear, it still had him at a walk/shuffle/jog speed, making Luke’s effort that much harder. Occasionally, we would joke about him taking the easy option by jumping on the back of my wheelchair for a ride, but Luke is a bloke who understands commitment. I suppose that was drilled into him when he was a soldier in the Australian Army.

  ‘Suck it up, it’s only 750 kilometres,’ was the advice given to Luke by one of his brothers before he began the trip – and Luke was doing just that.

  The uneven, constantly corrugated dirt road that makes up three-quarters of the Tanami Track was wearing us both down. We began craving the smooth bitumen that would lead us the final 300 kilometres into Alice Springs.

  ‘Hey Rob, when we finally hit the bitumen,’ said Luke thoughtfully. ‘I’m going to do a nude dance the second my sneakers hit the tar.’

  ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ I said with a grin.

  We both had a bit of a laugh about the prospect of him getting his clothes off. I wasn’t in a hurry to see him naked, but I shared his enthusiasm to say goodbye to the rough dirt road. The days quickly passed and after a couple of weeks on the road, we hit the halfway mark, passing through Mount Doreen Station. The owners, Matt and Debbie Braitling, allowed us to use a large gravel quarry just off the main road for the ‘halfway dinner’, and we couldn’t have picked a better spot. Luke and I timed it well, finishing the same stretch of road on the day of the fancy dinner. I had left the dinner organisation in the capable hands of Tiani to make it a memorable one, but it wasn’t like throwing a barbecue in the backyard. We were a long way from anywhere, with no power, no toilets and no accommodation. It would prove to be a massive job. Luckily, Tiani was able to count on family members and friends to carry the load. As Luke and I got closer to the turnoff to the quarry, I couldn’t believe the scene before me. There were cars pouring down the road, pulling up for the evening and honking their horns in support as we arrived. The base of the massive pit had been levelled by a grader and watered down to make way for a fantastic platform with tables and chairs, complete with white tablecloths, candles and cutlery. A stage and band were set up at one end of the pit, creating our very own amphitheatre, and there was a bush kitchen with open fires and rotisseries running at the other end. The high, rocky cliffs around protected the area from the strong, cold winds blowing across the plains.