The Sunburned Road: Lightning Ridge

I am so privileged to know Gwen, Athol, and their son Raymond. My visit to Kangaroo Hill was far more than I ever could have asked for. Gwen is sweet, kind, generous, with a heart as big as a pumpkin and a memory like an elephant. She was always going somewhere around the little house with a smile, tirelessly making tea or heaping, delicious meals of meat, gravy, potatoes and steamed vegetables. If I tried to do the dishes in return, she would put up a fight, and a strong fight at that. One time, she successfully wrestled my arms away from the sink. She is also a spectacular story teller, and she has hundreds of them. When she tells them, she becomes enveloped by the memory, her blue eyes shine like jewels, and she laughs like a school girl during the funny bits.

Athol is a feisty old chap, still sharp as a tack after 88 years. He used to be a great track cyclist, winning a plethora of medals and accolades right up into his 80s. He's been of the bike for a while due to hip pain, but he says after a hip replacement in January, he will be back on the bike. I have no doubt he will. He proudly showed me photo albums and scrapbooks from his racing days filled with sepia photos of blurred racers on dirt tracks and old open-fendered motor cars covered with bikes and wheels on the way to a new adventure. He and I went on jolly trips into town to get groceries and scoff at the unruly youths that cause mischief in town. One day at the supermarket, the little brats were riding down the street on shopping carts, knocking them over, and jumping on them like trampolines. Athol also spied one of them shoplift a coke, but the store staff didn't care. We also went to the butcher shop a couple of times where we got delicious meats for Gwen's dinners. As we walked into the shop Athol said with a devilish grin, "The girl behind the counter here has liquid brown eyes!" True enough, she did.

Gwen and athol are real life pioneers. It is something that has long since passed and been forgotten in the U.S., but when they came out to the dusty ridge, they lived in a hut with a dirt floor. They have since made everything on their small opal mining claim with their bare hands. Thy now have a comfortable life, and everything in their home seems to work better than in most modern suburban homes because they have had to innovate, create, and fix everything themselves. Their home is simple, but with that simplicity comes a peace that is seldom found in the chaotic modern suburbs. There is no need to lock the doors, and the loudest noise in the night is a possum walking across the metal roof.

They have constructed a small, fully furnished bungalow next to the house, complete with a bathroom and a kitchen chopped out of a caravan. It was like having my own private cozy house to live in for my five-day visit. I couldn't possibly ask for more.

But wait, there's more. The second day of my visit was Thanksgiving day back in the States, and Gwen cooked up a big chicken for me in a pot on the wood stove. Raymond came over, Gwen got out her best crystal, and we all sat around the big table, ate like royalty, drank wine, and laughed for hours.

The Wedge-tailed Eagle

A great wedge-tailed eagle, the size of a crouched person, was brought to Gwen with a gnarled brass bullet in her wing. The eagle was terrified of Gwen in the beginning, but an old aborigine told her to whisper to it, and soon the eagle would be tame. So Gwen made soft whistling whispers to the eagle, and soon she was able to sit next to her, stroke the feathers, and massage the lump of metal out of her wing. Soon after, the cage door could be left open. The eagle came and went for a while before returning permanently to the wild. Some time later, the same eagle returned to Kangaroo Hill to swirl and dive with her mate over the house.

Gravelia the Wombat

Gravelia was taken in and could not be released into the wild again, so she was kept as a pet. She grew to a massive size, something like a large hog, and when she wasn't waddling around the house, she insisted on being carried over Gwen's shoulder. Wombats are burrowing creatures, and one day whilst hanging the wash, the clothesline suddenly went plunging into the earth and on top of Gwen. Gravelia had undermined it. Gravelia also hated books. Something in her little wombat mind told her that every book needed to be destroyed. If a book were left out in the house, she would seize it in her teeth and shake it, send it flying across the room, pursue it, and shake some more until nothing was left but bits.

Jasper the Red Kangaroo

Jasper was a six-foot tall red Kangaroo who live with Gwen and Athol for many years. Jasper thought that he was human, and would come inside to stretch out on the sofa. Gwen had company over one day, and her friend came in to find Jasper lounging on his back with his hind legs spread and all of his unmentionables on display. Another time, Athol was working in the yard hammering steel fence posts into the ground with a big post-setter (basically a big pipe with a blunt ram inside and two handles). Jasper hopped over, placed his hands on top of Athol's hands, and helped Athol thrust the tool downward with each stroke.

And to think Gwen and Athol were worried that I wouldn't like the Ridge! I had a great time going on bike rides with Gwen and Raymond, going into town with Athol, chasing lizards, drinking tea, looking though the little museum that they have constructed, and just chatting in the afternoons over sherry. Here are a few more photos of my stay there:

This is an Italian fellow named Victorio. He has single-handedly built a huge castle out of hand-collected rocks. He carries them home, and heaves them up into the walls.