Chapter 11

The next two days were adventure-less. No sun-stroke, no snake bites, no sprained ankles. Reg located several lizards on the undersides of leaves. All appeared to be under five cm in length. Lois encountered (and photoed) a bird of which I’d never heard – a dusky grasswren [The dusky grasswren is a small passerine bird endemic to Australia but limited to inland areas of the Northern Territory, Western Australia and South Australia]. Al located a bilby colony and spent both days observing their activities. Aggie didn’t go far afield, I think she had a real scare, becoming aware of just how harsh the landscape and climate were.

It was after lunch one day that she told me she wasn’t going back to The Alice, but returning to Darwin. “I’ve been in the field, on and off, for over 20 years. I’m going to stay home for a while. I’ll talk to school and church groups; maybe I’ll get a job at the Darwin...”

“The Darwin?”

“The Botanic Gardens. Originally, the collection was focused on economic gardening and the ornamental planting. But the place was torn to shreds by Cyclone Tracy in ‘74. 89% of all the plants were lost. Restoration after the cyclone was led by George Brown, who’d worked at the gardens since 1969 and served as curator from 1971 to 1990. He’s now Lord Mayor of Darwin. He’s a horticulturist, not much of scholar, but he’s got five green thumbs on each hand.” I laughed.

“I’m serious. He could get driftwood to bear fruit.”

“What might you do?”

“I’d give talks, or be at the info booth, or work at cuttings. I qualified as a teacher in Melbourne, so maybe I could teach botany.”

“You might travel from school to school in the Territory for the CSIRO. Sort of a high school or college recruiter.”

“Thanks. That’s an idea.” She wandered off.

I mused. Over 20 years! I guess I’ve ‘been in the field, on and off’, for about half a dozen. Where will I be in 15 years? Certainly not at Long Pocket. Will I still be a myrmecologist? Will I be with the CSIRO? Will I get bitten by a mulga or a taipan?

I felt like Kim, puzzling over who he was. But I knew who I was. And I knew it was silly to fret over the future. As Doris Day sang in Hitchcock’s remake of “Man Who Knew Too Much,” “Que sera sera.” I wonder why Hitch wanted a remake? Heraclitus was right: You can never step in the same river twice. Everything changes. Why would anyone believe Parmenides’ proposition that “all is an eternal and unchanging One”? It’s just silly. Plants grow, animals grow, even rocks erode. What was Plato’s dialogue really about? Haven’t looked at it in years. Something about the Way of Truth being a unity; so there’s the unreality of its variety, which is therefore the object, not of knowledge, but of opinion.

Hmmm. Is the Way of Truth the same as Lao Tse’s The Way and Virtue? I don’t even know what the Chinese or the Greek say. Translations. Paraphrases. What was that proverb? Traduttore, traditore. Translator, traitor. Translators betray the original.

I must have been musing for a while. Reg called over, asking about ‘dinner.’ I shook myself and walked over.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“Yeah, thanks. I was thinking.”

“A good thing to do.”

“My dad said that after a while it stops being painful.”

Reg laughed. “I used to say that to my kids.”

“You never mention your family.”

“No. I don’t.”

He said no more and I wasn’t going to ask. This was a less pleasant topic than Aggie’s had been.

Too much thinking!

“Tomorrow’s our last day here,” I remarked to Reg.

“Yes.”

“How about we get a start on amassing the waste?”

“OK, let’s restack the water and food empties. They’re bulky yet won’t weigh that much.”

“You spread that other tarp and we’ll tie it like a cargo net, later.”

We did that and worked at it for nearly an hour.

“Next?” I asked.

“Tomorrow morning, all five of us form a line ten meters east of here and police the area to about ten meters the other way. We’ll catch all the cigarette butts and candy wrappers.”

“What?”

“Gotcha!” Another Reg joke. I’d been caught again.

Al wandered in. “I’m sandy and sweaty.”

“Glad to meet you, I’m Gordy.” That was right up Reg’s humor alley.

“Ha, ha. Any chance of another wash?”

“I thought tomorrow afternoon. Gordy and I were talking about gathering waste, litter and debris in the morning. We’ve already gathered the empties, so we’ll know exactly how much water we can waste.”

“OK. When do you call our birdman?”

“I’ll wait till nine or so. But I hope he’ll get here by noon the next day.”

“Oh?”

“There’s an Adelaide to Canberra on Virgin at 1700.”

“Yeah, be good to get home.”

Aggie had seen us standing together and wandered over. “There aren’t that many flights to Darwin. I hope there’ll be space on Qantas at 1900.”

“Why don’t you call now and make sure?” I asked. “Reg’ll let you use his phone.”

“Sure. But what about you, Gordie?”

“I’ll just throw myself on Qantas’ mercy. I know there’s a flight around 2000, but there might be an earlier one. Jetstar’s got a couple of nonstops, too. I’m easy.”

It turned out that our pilot would be west of us at Plumridge Lakes, so he’d be here around ten or so.

“What’s at Plumridge Lakes?” I asked.

“No idea,” Reg responded.

“Lots of camels,” Al said. “Most of them pretty mangy-looking, when I was there a few years ago. It’s a class-A nature preserve. Over 300,000 hectares. They sent me to do a camel census, but ended up with an estimate from a fly-over.”