The Far Side of the World, Pt 4

September 1974. Tony Reavley's finally leaving behind the sex, drugs and rock & roll of Asia and heading to his intended destination: Australia. He's expecting an easy time now that he's back in a First World country. However, he hasn't reckoned with the fact that he's about to be driven thousands of miles across the outback by a pissed-up war veteran with memory loss.

You can read Tony's previous letters here: November 1973, December 1973, early April 1974, late April 1974, June 1974 and August 1974.

Melbourne, Australia

21-09-74

Finally arrived in the "promised land" touching down at Darwin in the north on the evening of September 5th. We spent 5 weeks in Bali altogether, drinking delicious fruit shakes at 5p a time, surfing in the huge waves, going on magic mushroom trips and ogling the talent on the beach. Kuta beach is swarming with nudists, both male and female. Spent many happy hours wandering along the beach admiring the local scenery. (Aussie boobs are the biggest, incidentally).

We met an Australian we knew in Bali and bought a tent from him before flying to Darwin. We lived comfortably on £1.50 a day in Bali, but had a shock when we arrived in Darwin. Most Australians live in Victoria and New South Wales down in the south-east, and food has to be transported 2,500 miles across Australia to Darwin in the far north, hence high prices. Our journey down from Darwin, hitching through the centre of Australia, was an incredible experience. This historic Pommie Expedition commenced on Tuesday September 10th at 0800 hours; our host gave us a lift to the outskirts of town and we started hitching at 0815. By 1145, three and a half hours later, we'd had 5 offers of lifts but all going short distances just a few miles up the road. Then an ex-Englishman pulled up and took us 155 miles down to a place called Pine Creek.

These places are marked as towns on the map, but when one arrives, there is just a petrol station, store and a pub - absolutely nothing else. You're virtually hitching from petrol station to petrol station. For example, Alice Springs is 953 miles from Darwin and there are only 2 places which could remotely be called towns : one is Katherine (220 miles from Darwin), the other Tennant Creek (about 600 miles). Pine Creek, where we were dropped at 3pm, was just a pub and petrol station and we were well and truly in the heart of the Australian outback. The landscape for hundreds of miles is just desert, scrub and gum trees with no signs of human habitation apart from the occasional petrol stations, most of which are over 100 miles apart.

Tried to hitch out of Pine Creek, but with vehicles coming by at a rate of 8 an hour we had no success that evening. Pitched the tent, and early next morning I had a 7 mile run, seeing just one car go by. We'd thought that 8 vehicles an hour was bad the previous evening but that morning only 13 came by in two and a half hours. At 1230, after 4 hours' effort, we finally got a lift from a local for 65 miles into Katherine. We started hitching [again], doing half-hour stints each in the burning sun whilst the other one read a book under the shade of a nearby tree. Three other guys trying to hitch out also; one had been there for two days. Another had given up and got himself a job in the local abattoir where they earn up to 200 dollars a week (about £135!) After eight and a half hours we were still there. By now it was dark and we began to think about packing up for the day and looking for somewhere nearby where we could pitch the tent. For want of anything better to do, Baz was lying in the road and I was chatting to him, leaning against a telegraph pole which had been our only means of shade during the day. The hitchers - including ourselves - now numbered 7, all dotted along the deserted highway. A car came slowly out of a side turning, and seeing Baz lying in the road, pulled up to see what was wrong. From this moment, we went through one of the most exhausting and amazing experiences we've ever been through.

Our benefactor went by the unlikely name of Chapman Sando Walsh. He was dead drunk and pulled up because he thought there'd been an accident. We assured him this was not the case, talked to him for a bit and finally persuaded him to cram 3 of us in the car with our rucksacks: Baz, myself and an Aussie. We shared the car with his Golden Labrador and her four 2-week-old puppies. We hadn't a clue where he was going as he was most evasive and wouldn't tell us; actually, at that stage, I don't think he knew himself. He gave us a can of beer each and we set off into the middle of nowhere, driving unsteadily down the highway with puppies crawling all over the place.

After a couple of hours we stopped at a petrol station/pub, the only sign of habitation we'd seen. Our host - who we called "The Chief" - bought us some more beer. The Chief didn't seem to know what he was doing, and was all for driving on with an empty tank. We filled it up for him, pointing out that the next place for fuel was about 200 miles away. Off again into the night with the Aussie hitchhiker taking over the wheel to relieve The Chief. Around 4am we stopped and dozed in the car. At 6, away again, arriving at Three Ways - a big road junction - at 0830. Here one has the choice of heading due south to Alice or due east to the coast and Brisbane. We parted company with [the Aussie hitchhiker] who was going down the east coast, and I took a turn at the wheel of the Holden Special as The Chief was a bit worse for wear from the previous night.

He was a strange character. An Aussie captain in the army, now retired, so he told us. More likely slung out, we reckoned. He'd fought in Korea, was divorced and suffered from amnesia. Never seemed to know what he was doing and was very dithery and indecisive. Turned out that he was completely broke as well and didn't have a cent on him! When one travels in the outback, certain rules have to be followed. Always carry water and spare petrol. Always carry a jack, wheel-brace and fully inflated spare tire. Always carry a box of tools and a first aid kit. The Chief carried none of these. He'd got no money, a starving dog and four pups, suffered from amnesia, had no job, wife or home and didn't really know where he was going or what he was doing. And you reckon you've got problems.

Fate seemed to have thrown us together - we needed him and he needed us, and if we hadn't met I don't know what would have happened. We arrived in Alice at 4.45pm that day; Baz and I had planned to stop in Alice for a few days, but hitching had proved more difficult than anticipated, and we decided our best bet was to stick with The Chief. You can literally get stuck in places for weeks out here. When we got to Alice we found the car wouldn't start: battery flat and starter motor gone. The battery was in fact steaming, and The Chief "couldn't quite remember" when he last put water in it. The only assets The Chief appeared to have were his dogs and a silver cigarette case. The puppies were really too young to leave the mother but he took the three black ones out to sell, leaving a single golden one left which he wanted to keep for himself. We took a puppy each, one dog and two bitches, and had no trouble selling them. Within an hour, I sold one for $8 in a clothing shop and went into the pub and sold one in the saloon bar and the other in the publiv for $5 each. We had to celebrate the occasion, and had a couple of beers each before carefully steering The Chief back to the car before he completely squandered his newfound wealth.

Push-started the car and camped just outside town. The Chief slept in the car with his dog and one remaining puppy, while Baz & I slept in the tent. Alice is at 3,000 feet, and it was too bloody cold to sleep properly; we sent our sleeping bags home in Hong Kong as we weren't expecting to encounter any cold weather. That day, after a push-start we managed to reach Coober Pedy, 400 miles away. By now we were driving on dirt roads. The dust got in everywhere - eyes, nose, throat, clothes - and we looked as if we had make-up on! We drove a mile out of town to camp. Temp dropped to about 41F and we couldn't sleep. When we got up in the morning, frozen, we couldn't push-start the car as the hill wasn't steep enough; took us an hour and a half to push it back to town and a steep hill. This was the beginning of a disastrous day. We started out for Port Augusta 400 miles away on Australia's south coast. We saw a superb lizard sitting in the road, stopped to take a photo of it and stalled the car. Unsuccessful attempt to push-start it with the nearest garage 80 miles away. Sat by the road, and after 40 minutes a lorry pulled up and gave us a tow-start. An hour later we got our first puncture, but fortunately it was right by the lorry again. I had an embarrassing time explaining to the lorry driver that we had a flat, spare tire, no jack or wheel-brace and we were travelling with a nutcase.

Luckily he was well-equipped and we managed to fit the spare. He was driving in the same direction and waited until we got clear because of the amount of dust we'd throw up. This was just as well, as 2 hours later we got a 2nd puncture. About 5 minutes wait and the lorry pulled up behind us; I took the spare and jumped into his cab to get the thing repaired. We were just 7 miles short of a petrol station. Had to buy a new tube and have the tire patched, which cost Baz & I $6, as once again The Chief was out of money. We push-started the car and finally reached Port Augusta shortly after midnight. By now, we didn't dare switch the engine off during the day, even when re-fuelling, and at night we found the steepest hill possible on which to park.

Next day to the pawn shop where we managed to extract $5 for the chief's fishing reel and a gadget for labelling bottles. I kept the $5 in case The Chief blew it on beer. Push-started the car to a garage, filled up, stalled it, got started with jump-leads and then off to Adelaide 200 miles distant. I was doing most of the driving as The Chief was a nervous wreck. Reached Adelaide at 3; Baz & I decided we might as well head on for Melbourne with The Chief, 460 miles away. As it was so cold we decided to drive through the night. We were now paying for all the petrol and feeding The Chief and his dog. The poor dog was very hungry - we never saw The Chief feed it at all, but we gave it the odd scraps of tinned luncheon meat and bread, which was what we'd been existing on.

I drove from midnight till two, practically falling asleep at the wheel on several occasions. It was cold, our side triangular window was smashed, and it had begun to rain. Naturally, the wipers weren't working. At two, I handed over the wheel and climbed into the backseat in an attempt to snatch some sleep amongst the rucksacks and other paraphernalia. At around 3am, for reasons known only to himself, The Chief pulled in to the side of the road and promptly stalled. By a miracle, we were in a small town; at 7.30 the garage opened and we started again with jump-leads. Apart from stalling the car once more, the final day passed without incident and we eventually reached Melbourne exhausted, having had about 8 hours' sleep in 5 nights.

That's all from this end at present. Our future plans are undecided. I'm hoping to sell a camera for $200 which will enable me to get to Auckland.

My regards to everyone. Write soon.

Tony

Editor's note: a quick Google search reveals that a Chapman Sando Walsh was the 1000th cadet to enlist in the Royal Military College of Australia, in 1945. This was almost certainly The Chief as a young man, some thirty years before he set off on the world's longest booze cruise with Tony and Baz. No record is given of his subsequent service in Korea, but I'll keep digging and see if anything comes up.