Log!
The last log that I saw was used for lighting up and whilst some of us live in the perpetual half dark I did notice that ES had departed for a visit to my old Home Depot of Mundrabilla where I spent all of a fortnight.
Probably too late as I believe that he was last seen in a tender (err lifeboat) from some fancy cruise boat heading north towards the coast in the Great Oz Bight. Do lifeboats (err tenders) carry extension ladders that he will need to scale the cliffs when he reaches the coast.
If, however, ES is determined to try Mundrabilla here is my Trip Adviser entry for him:
As a respected member of the GD’s Black Gang (are we allowed to bestow that honour these days?) ES might (or might not) fit in well at the Mundrabilla to which Wiki refers. I do think, however, that a closer analysis of the population statistics would be wise on his part. The 68% of 23 equals 15 and a half females but not sure what to make of this? The Wiki Mundrabilla referred to is the ‘township’ on the Eyre Highway near the Western Australian/South Australian border.
I only spent a few hours at Mundrabilla on the road 20 odd years ago enroute to the railway crossing loop at Mundrabilla on the Trans-Australian Railway some 123 km to the north where there had been a huge derailment. Most of population at the Roadhouse that night seemed 'insular', (to put it mildly). Lerwick sounds a better location to me. I have always fancied a White Christmas.
The sanest person encountered was an old rabbit trapper off the Nullarbor Plain. Everyone else I am sure was named Schmidt
‘I know nothing.’
The Trapper (who must have been a navigator in a former life) gave us precise directions to the railway across the flat, endless, treeless Plain which is criss-crossed by innumerable confusing tracks and is as featureless as the sea:
Back down the highway to the homestead; up the escarpment behind the homestead; follow the track to derelict water tank; half right for ## km; past the 44 gallon drum; and so on and so on. Half a page in precise and intimate detail.
Thankfully, it was a full moon and after ruining a tyre at around midnight it was with considerable relief that at 123 km exactly we sighted the red beacon for the aerodrome at Forrest. (Aircraft from the east coast to Perth and vice versa often stopped there for fuel back in the piston engine days.)
ES would have fitted in with the Breakdown Crew at the derailment I am sure but I am not so sure that the Mundrabilla Roadhouse population would have been to his, unknown to me, tastes.
Geoff
YM (Yardmaster Mundrabilla)
