It happens in the blink of an eye. The dusky-colored, full-grown kangaroo enters our narrow frame of view in the predawn darkness. A huge Whomp! as the meaty left flank of the animal contacts the front end of our rental car dead center at 50 km/hr. We’re on the outskirts of the village of Wangaratta, ten minutes into a 12-hour drive north to the Queensland border, where we hope to rendezvous with a friend in Mullumbimby. This is what you call an inauspicious start to the day.
Anyway, a quick (we’re wide awake you better believe it) roadside inspection reveals a crumpled hood on the little Ford, but no vital fluids appear to be leaking from beneath the radiator or engine compartment. The kangaroo meanwhile is nowhere to be seen, gone but alas probably mortally wounded. But hey, the car seems good to go so we’re back on the road north as the sun lightens the sky to the east.
I’m a week into a research trip in southeast Australia, mostly within the states of New South Wales and Victoria. Before it’s over we’ll rack up over 3000 kilometers on the lonely roads here.
After picking up the rental car in Sydney, I reluctantly took the wheel. My companion had claimed navigator status for the initial drive out of “the Big Smoke.” Understand that they drive on the left down here, and I’ll admit to being a bit intimidated about jumping into driving straight into Sydney’s heavy traffic.
“Man, you are way too close over here! The pavement drops off six inches and any closer and we are toast!” Such was the encouragement from the passenger seat as we made our way south. I clutched the wheel maniacally, and attempted to enlist all of my available faculties in avoiding an accident.
Of course, driving on the ” wrong” side of the road is not that big a deal, and any normal person can get the hang of it pretty quickly. However, there’s no denying that it has its moments. Take for instance all of those roundabouts. “Look to the right. That guy has the right-of-way! Stay left! Follow that truck…I think.”
We work together, navigator and driver, calm and cool. And it’s not just driving on the left side of the road but also being unfamiliarly positioned inside the car. I mean, the steering wheel is on the right side and this leads to various orientation-in-space confusion. It’s also weird for the front seat passenger; the aforementioned navigator finds himself, in moments of excitement, with a tendency to stomp on a phantom brake pedal or grab at a wraith of a steering wheel.
Back to the road. After the run-in with the kangaroo we’re getting over the shock of it and have lots of left-side driving under our belts by now, so we’re relaxed and things are looking good. The landscape is ever changing. We’ve transitioned from the Australian Alps, green in their spring foliage, to the arid sheep and cattle station territory. The sky is expansive and unbelievably bright blue.
We notice that almost every vehicle out here has a burly grid work of steel bars spanning the front. ‘Roo bars. Surprise, surprise, we muse as we gaze across our damaged hood. And it’s hard to ignore all of the carcasses alongside the road. The “road trains” that barrel through here at night don’t slow down for anything.
Besides the kangaroos, there is other exotic wildlife to be seen along the road, but even more on our walks in the bush. Hiking on Mt. Dromedary, for example, which was named by explorer Captain James Cook in 1771, we saw two six-foot lizards, a couple of echidnas, several Lyre birds, what I think was a bandicoot, and a wombat. But even though we passed through Gunnedah, “Koala Bear Capital of the World”, we did not see any of the little guys. In fact, our Aussie friends tell us they are quite rare and seldom seen.
It’s been ten hours on the road since we hit the ‘roo. We’re pulling into the dusty town of Tamworth, which seems, like so many others we’ve seen, to be a set for a 1950’s movie. An old covered-porch hotel or two on the main street, with a pub in each of their ground floor corners, a few old fashioned filling stations, grocery and hardware stores. There are few people on the streets. We step into the ubiquitous pub and find several instant friends there. It’s a good-natured lot and they enjoy talking to – and kidding – us Americans.
Australians love betting on horse racing, and the town pub is always the center of the action in this regard. There are several big-screen TV’s hung on the walls, wires and antenna cables taped and tied with string. Nonstop horse racing is featured on these monitors, and the pub proprietor can instantly place bets for his patrons via the internet. It’s all rather fascinating, but soon it’s time to move on. Our new friends bid us adieu with “no worries, mates”, and soon Tamworth is in our rear-view mirror.
After all, Mullumbimby awaits, and so do the kangaroos.
John W. Robinson – [email protected]
