I came across this post I had written but never published and, after several minutes thinking back wistfully to those glorious days with King Dave, I decided better late than never. Enjoy!
The love bowl, also known as Sharon the share bowl. Every night we all take a fork or spoon and dig in to a sumptuous backpacker feast of rice, pasta, or cous-cous plus anything else we find to throw in. But instead of dishing it into separate plates, we eat straight from the love bowl, saving time, heat, and dishwashing effort. This has been going on nearly every night for six weeks, now with three groups of travelmates. That's a lotta love.
The spinifex hopping mouse. Normally when you're told by a fellow traveler that a certain campsite is certain to swamp you with hundreds of mice, you'd do all you can to steer clear of it. We change our schedule to work it in. When these tiny hopping cute critters come out to play at night, we stop everything. Even eating. That's saying a lot. First fell in love with them at the desert wildlife park, where a sign demonstrating one of their survival techniques (peeing an infinitesimal amount so they don't need water), imagined their tiny pee particles making a 'plink plink!' sound. We like our Plinkys. And, of course, all the other Outback animals, from the mighty red kangaroos and saltwater crocs to the soaring falcons and darting lizards
The stars. Ida had never before seen a shooting star in her life. Then, in one night, she saw three. Every night we see thousands more stars than I'm used to back home, and when we're camping alone during a low moon, it's simply spectacular. I can always find scorpio, capricorn, and of course the southern cross. I've even taken to the hammock a couple of nights instead of the tent just to enjoy them a little bit longer. And the milky way in all its glory, stretching from horizon to horizon, forming a silver rainbow above us, framing the southern cross, taurus, and scorpio (I can also find libra, capricorn, sagittarius, and hercules now; thank you google sky maps).
The wave. Love the wave. There's no official rule when to do it, no signs instructing people to acknowledge the drivers passing by the other way for the next 60 k's, but everyone seems to know. It's a recognition of camaraderie, of brotherhood, for the off-roaders among us. The more bumpy, hilly, narrow, winding, remote, empty, godforsaken the road, the more likely you are to see a wave. On a path like the single-lane back road from coral bay to cape range via lefroy bay, where one car has to pull up 30 degrees onto the bush so other other can pass, you're liable to get a "how ya goin?" or travel advice as well. The main road from Stuart Highway to Uluru? No waves. But the back road to Uluru from the West Macs? Now we're talking. After a long day, might just lift a few fingers from the wheel, half a nod instead of a full smile, but your companion for the moment understands. He's been there too. Fight on.
Old Australians. I've said it before and I'll say it again: old Australians are terrific. Our most frequent fellow travelers, they've offered us everything from torches and tea to jobs and jokes. They're also the only people who don't treat us like backpackers; seeing my Western Australia rego and lack of any rental company logo, most ask me where in WA I'm from. It's refreshing. Once we list our respective nationalities, a comparison to the UN is inevitable; always feels a little special. And the physical activity many endure, climbing down slippery gorges and climbing up towering canyons, inspires us.
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