Three score and 10: A Rest Day in Hebel

This is a rest day in the glorious hamlet of Hebel – this I think genuinely qualifies as a tiny town - a general store cum café cum restaurant that would be more at home in a town considerably larger - a primary school of a size befitting the large but sparsely populated agricultural lands that it services – – a pub befitting of no town at all - a library of an appropriate size for a tiny Queensland border town – a caravan park which, save for one other couple, is proud to host us as its sole source of income for the evening – four or five houses and a local hall – this tiny town does not even qualify for a police presence.

After arriving yesterday – Tom and his compatriots snoozed before Peter engaged the sole other occupants of the caravan park – he chats away with them returning with stories of Australian travels and advice on accommodating the cursed cat’s-heads – “drape a light chain over the top of the wheel – let it wipe the cat’s-head from the tyre before the they are squashed twix tyre and road surface and are turned from angry passenger into tube macerater” says Peter.

A pre-dinner drink at the old pub dressed up to look like a really old pub.

We have a drink and wander outside to listen as the locals undertake an exercise that could best be described as verbal rodeo riding – it seemed that the exercise was for the poor rider to attempt to say something reasonably intelligent in a monologue that lasted for 10 seconds – if he could achieve that without the bull (his fellow drinkers) ribbing and razzing him into capitulation then he was clearly awarded a clear round – what form did the capitulation take? – it took the form of either laughter that destroyed the rider’s train of thought or the vociferous utterance by the rider of obscenities directed at the bull that also caused a loss of the rider’s train of thought. No sooner than one rider was knocked from his horse another person would exit the bull crowd and saddle up for his go in the ring.

Look around the pub – lucky to still be here after the storms of 1998 removed the roofs off all but two buildings.

As is becoming the custom the chief cook and bottle washer is given the rest day off – we dine in the restaurant attached to the general store – surprisingly good ambience – the chef demonstrates acceptable culinary skills. Look around the dining room – who is that in the photo – “my father” says Ralf, the host – “two times Australian wrestling champion” says he – “rode his bike from Adelaide to Sydney looking for work during the depression” he says – his pride in his father overt!

Peter sets up his swag under the cover of my slide out bed – “If I annoy you just knock on the roof Peter” says I – we drift off to sleep – “bloody mosquitoes” says Tom.

The weather remains mild – awake to bright sunshine supported by gentle winds – Peters gear is loaded up and he is conveyed back to Lightening Ridge while Tom relaxes and reads.

Lightening Ridge is a hive of activity on a Sunday morning – the hardware shop has a queue at its till – the supermarket checkouts are overflowing - the Sunday market is in full swing – it seems almost as if Sunday is the busiest day of the week.

I arrive back in Hebel – off to Goodooga – never been there – only 50k’s away. Why on earth would anyone go out of their way to visit Goodooga? – Here are the top five reasons you would undertake such a trip:

No.1

You love driving across kilometre after kilometre of road that turns into mud at the merest suggestion of rain – mud that then hardens to present a road surface that bears an accurate three-dimensional representation of the tyres of huge farm four wheel drives – a road surface that if it is not jarring the teeth of the driver is generating a plume of dust that threatens to engulf any vehicle foolish enough to stop on the road

No 2

You admire the magnificence of the naturalised Australian feral pig and in particular such animals when they lie beside the road, the victim of one of the four wheel drives that collaborated with the rain and the road to shake the bones of your poor highways loving vehicle.

No 3.

You have a passion for emus and admire their aloofness .

No. 4

You are a passionate supporter of the rights of feral goats to roam unrestrained across the Australian landscape.

No.5

You are a collector of town entry signs

“What about the town” you ask – I cannot bring myself to talk about it – it is not an ugly place – it is just a sad looking place – there are a number of houses that, whilst humble in size and form, are well maintained and supported by grounds that are dressed for show – there are a large number of houses that are also modest and which are well maintained but for whom the house itself is much more important that the appearance of its surrounds – there are a few houses that are both occupied and neglected but these are in an absolute minority – the significant number of derelict but unoccupied former dwellings contributes to a sad and depressed townscape.

Goodooga has a general store – a tiny general store cum post office – small – tiny – terrible – the people deserve more – Goodooga has a hospital but it looks unkempt and unloved – perhaps it is far enough out of sight for the politicians not to have to worry about it.

I cut and run from Goodooga – it just made me feel sad!