Peace & Truth

AN EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURE – PART TWO
When the Koolinda berthed in Darwin, the few pounds Stuart had made showing his film in Wyndham, was quickly dispersed among six burly wharfies needed to hoist Annabel off the ship onto the Darwin jetty.
As befits an international airport, Darwin had a palatial hotel but it was not for Stuart and his wife Jan, who camped with Annabel among the trees fringing the pleasant Mendil Beach – equally attractive and costing them nothing.
The couple made daily excursions into town to eat paw paw and ice-cream. They also tried to find somewhere to show their film but in the throws of post-war reconstruction, finding an empty hall was difficult, so after a week they decided to move on.
Fuelled by a good meal of fried rice from one of Darwin”s Chinese restaurants, they set off along the nine hundred mile stretch to Alice Springs.
Unlike on the coast road where Annabel bumped, crashed and rattled for mile upon mile, the smooth tar road streamed evenly beneath her wheels. Imparting to twenty-year-old Chrysler something of the effortless glide that characterised her modern sisters.
For a hundred miles there were constant reminders of the war years. Aircraft strips hewn out of the dense bush, empty, forlorn-looking gun pits and camouflage-netted aircraft inserts, all jumbled in what appeared to be endless confusion. Bamboo-slatted huts tenanted only by scuttling lizards or mournfully cheeping birds and in some cases half eaten to the ground by white ants.
Only thirteen people turned up to the film showing of ‘See Australia First’ in the big hall Stuart had rented in Alice Springs. “I can only apologise, ladies and gentlemen. You can see how it is. We just can’t screen under these conditions.” Stuart announced, his voice and heart in his boots.
It turned out that the screening had been on the same night as the annual school ball and The Alice couldn’t stand two shows in one night. However with the aid of a local priest, hastily stuck up posters and much word of mouth, crowds were milling at the gates before the impromptu showing of “See Australia First” the following night.
The proceeds were enough to pay the young photographer’s bills and the fares to Adelaide. Stuart wrote:
“I will always have a warm corner in my heart for Alice Springs. One does, for places where one’s optimism is reborn. I like the town anyway, with its sauntering, go-as-you please inhabitants and its general air of being so far removed from the rest of the world that the rest of the world does not matter.”
The Afghan Express lumbered into the railway yard and Annabel was pushed up the ramp onto the flat-topped trucks at the rear of the train. Blowing a raucous farewell to Darwin on her whistle, the express pulled out through Heavitree Gap, the great cleft in the ring of hills encircling Alice Springs.
Stuart and Jan sat back in their respective corners and watched the red earth and the yellow spinifex drifting slowly past the window as the train gained speed. Quiet and busy with their thoughts. Both feeling glad that the hardest part of the job was done. Aided by lots of luck they had taken their film through the North on a shoestring.
Stuart reflected – “Every moment of that five months had been a worth-while experience. Sand, heat, flies, ants, bumpy tracks and broken springs notwithstanding. For there had been so much to turn the balance to the credit side. Sheep and cattle, strange birds and beasts and reptiles, hospitable stations, turquoise seas, the thudding rhythm of Aboriginal dancers in the night, the murmured conversations under the glowing stars and the soft flittings of peaceful dawns.”
The Ghan rambled through the desert for one day and one night before coming to an unexpected stop. Rather inexplicably because the only thing in sight on the desolate wastes of sand was a single little wooden house.
“Everyone tumbled out, engine-driver, fireman, guard, and passengers, and all raced across the open ground to gather round the lonely little building. We followed, of course, and found them grouped around a battery radio on the veranda. There was strained anxiety in every face, and we wondered what national calamity had happened which could be of sufficient importance to stop the Express.”
Suddenly the radio crackled and the hidden voice said – “Good afternoon, listeners. It’s a glorious day and there’s a record crowd here at Flemington awaiting the event of Australia’s racing year – the Melbourne Cup!”
In Adelaide the screech of city traffic and the din of hurrying pedestrians burst upon them with horrifying suddenness. Annabel looking out of place among the sleek city-bred cars – the red sands of the North dusting her rusty flanks and camping gear lashed all over her.
Adelaide was an aristocratic city and rather conservative. A little knot of curious folk gathered around Annabel wherever they parked. Any notion of showing their films in the town was quickly extinguished by local cinema moguls so they moved on.
The company town of Iron Knob was the setting for the final picture show. Iron Knobites seemed a contented lot. The company providing all possible amenities to keep their workers happy – including first class quarters, tennis courts, an exceptionally fine swimming pool and a picture theatre. The hill of iron above the town was being nibbled at from the top down. Men climbing in and out of the crater like ants.
As Stuart and Jan drove away from Iron Knob the next evening towards the Nullarbor, the last thing they heard was the mutter of far off explosions blowing out ore – which would one day sail distant seas in the form of an Australian built ship.
“Many people have tried to describe the Nullarbor Plain. Most have failed. It is hard to describe nothing.” wrote Stuart.
Annabel’s passengers felt pleasantly relived to have escaped the harassing world. Annabel’s tyres now threadbare it would be a miracle if they could make it to Perth without trouble but they did.
In the closing stages of the 8,000 mile trip the the country gradually changed from the red earth and salmon gums of the goldfields to spreading miles of wheat country. Then they reached the orchards and vineyards of the Darling Ranges from which peeks of Perth could be seen.
“And yet.. we did not really want to get back.. to clocks and calendars and newsboys.” wrote Stuart. “So we stopped and watched the lights coming on, far below in the dusk.. and did not start again. Instead we camped where we were for one last time.”
Later that night, lying wrapped in a blanket under the stars, Stuart put down his pipe, turned over and looked across at faithful old Annabel against the glow of the dying fire.
He was content.