A short story about a journey across the Nullarbor
This trip across the Nullarbor reminded me of the last time I was here but did not go all the way across. I had my convertible car then. I had the top down and zooming along from Ceduna to the Nullarbor Roadhouse. It was getting a bit hot but I did want to continue to feel the elements. I spotted a tree and turned off to park under it. It blocked the sun and I could still feel the wind. Trees are rare on the Nullarbor. In fact, Nullarbor is Latin for no trees.
Australia is home to 7 out of 10 of the most venomous snakes on earth. Most of them are often spotted on the Nullarbor. Add to that the deadly spiders – the redback and the funnel web. With the two - snakes and spiders - grabbing all the attention, no one talks about the third – the dropbear. A distant cousin of the cuddly Koala, this version sits in trees and hunts by dropping on passing animals like wombats and wallabies. It then uses its claws and teeth to subdue the usually small animals. Unfortunately, from the top of a tree, a human looks like a small furry animal (unless you are bald - may be it is probability or may be the lack of statistics but there are no recorded instances of dropbears attacking totally bald people). So it is quite common for them to drop on top of people’s head before it realises this one is too big to subdue. But it does do serious damage, though seldom fatal. So, no one dies. And so, no one talks about it much. A quick search on the web confirmed my suspicions – pages and pages with images of snakes and spiders. The only mention of the dropbear was on the Australian Museum website – thank god for those meticulous scientists.
So there I was relaxing under the tree and – you guessed it – a dropbear falls into the car! It wasn’t a thud – more like it wafted down like a leaf. From up the tree, an empty seat and a seat with a human look pretty much the same. And fortunately for me, it picked the empty seat next to me. We both looked at each other, both equally stunned. I had left the car in gear but had kept my foot on the brake. I pulled it off and jabbed the accelerator, lurching forward. As I twisted the wheel to gain control, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, the dropbear struggling to cling on to the seat with each turn. So I proceeded to twist the wheel around, not caring where I went. Then about 20 metres ahead, the tree came into view again. This time, my desperate mind came up with a desperate plan.
You know that scene in the movie where the bad guy is sitting in the passenger seat of a car, next to the hero driving? The bad guy has a gun pointed at hero. And then the hero goes and crashes the car. He is wearing a seatbelt – the bad guy is not and goes crashing through the windshield. Hero - 1, bad guy - nil. I headed straight at the tree, zigzagging my way to it. When it was almost within reach, I lost my nerve and wildly twisted the wheel away from the tree. The dropbear had just gotten comfortable with the weaving around and had pulled its claws from the seat. With a howl, it went flying over the side, its warm fur brushing past my face and it ended up sprawled on the ground. That was just the break I needed. I sped up to the road, fishtailed on to it and took off. My heart pounding, what appeared like a few seconds later, I looked down at the speedo and I was doing 160 kph. I braked. Not that I was worried about being caught speeding – at this point, it would be a welcome sight. Where is a cop when you really need one? After I calmed down some more, I realised I was headed in the wrong direction! I was heading away from the roadhouse back towards Ceduna.
With my heart in my mouth, I turned around. I raised the convertible top and locked the door. No dropbear can open a door on a car going at a 100. I kept going but did not see the tree. I must have travelled a lot further than I thought. Soon the roadhouse appeared, without me spotting the tree.
I pulled up and slowly staggered to the bar. The barman looked across to me – he must have noticed my dishevelled, wild-eyed look. “You look like you could use a beer, mate” he said. I replied but no words came out – I just nodded. When he put it in front of me, I took a long swig. Then I started babbling about what I had just gone through. The barman must have heard a number of stories like this but patiently listened. But towards the end, he set his jaw. When I finished, he looked at me and flatly said, “This is the Nullarbor, mate. There is not a single tree between here and Ceduna”.
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