My life story, Henry J Macey [books for 20 year olds .TXT] 📗

and decided to stay the night, I did not fancy the idea of driving in the dark on a strange road.  Plus there was the possibility, of hitting a kangaroo or emu because there was no fencing.  After having a meal, I sat in the bar with the owner.  (He was, in his own words, the chief cook and bottle washer.).  He told me all about the place, how it was found and when.  He offered to take me to see the first mine that was found when I was next there in daylight.  We were to become great friends in the years to come, as later on, I would be delivering to him once a week.

 

In the morning I was up with the sun and got going, passing through Mount Magnet.  Then Cue both gold mining towns, driving for two hours I arrived in Meeka.  Our depot was situated on the south side of town, but you could not miss it as the main road runs straight through the middle of Meeka.  I had breakfast with the manager and his wife, and then unloaded his supplies and then those for the manganese mine.  The road from Meeka was just dirt, with concrete run troughs at the creeks.  When I hit the dirt road, it was quite a smooth ride.  But as I got further up, it started to get rough just like driving on a corrugated sheet of iron.  The truck axles rattled, and I was shaking so much I ached.  I found the faster I drove, the smoother the truck rode.  So it was full speed ahead and damn the potholes.

 

As I travelled north the landscape changed, from bush to vast expanses of land with sparse vegetation.  The colour of the ground changed too, it was still red but deeper with a rusty hue.  The other thing was the lack of traffic; you could drive for hours before meeting anything.  Apart from the odd car, heavy trucks were all you met, some of those being road trains hauling material for the expanding mines and their camps.  And that was just what I was doing; only I was leaving the truck as well as the goods.

 

A new road was built to reach Newman from the highway, a construction vital to bring in the equipment to build the mine and also the rail link to Port Headland.  Having dropped the trailer and got something to eat, I was told the quickest way to Tom Price was along the purposed route of the rail track.  It had been graded and built up to take the track, but they had not started to lay it yet.  It would save me some two hours, as it cut the corner taking me onto the Wittenoom road bypassing Roy Hill.

I pulled into Wittenoom and met for the first time, people who over the coming years I was going to get to know very well.  Mr Steppini, who ran the town store, came out of his shop as I pulled up saying, “I thought you where the freezer a day early.”  We did not know it then but the next time I was to see him, I would be driving the Wittenoom freezer!

 

Wittenoom was also a mining town, though you would not have known it from looking at the town.  The mine was some distance away, and they mined blue asbestos. Today the town no longer exists as it was; it has been almost wiped off the face of the earth.  And in true Australian fashion, they had a farewell party for the town and drank the pub dry.  (In fact, they had such a good time drinking it dry, they did it time and time again.)

 

After buying something to eat and drink, I went on my merry way.  Climbing up through Riotinto gorge an hour out from Wittenoom, I learnt a new bit of Highway Code.  Everybody gives way to road trains! I suppose now is a good time as any, to acquaint you with some of the unwritten rules of the road.

 

You always stop for someone if they have broken down and to leave water and food, if there is nothing you can do to get them going.  On long runs into the bush on rarely used roads, you inform the police of your destination and estimated time of arrival. When driving big rigs on dirt roads, drive on the side that allows the dust to blow off the road.  Giving oncoming and overtaking vehicles a clear view of the road.

 

Riotinto gorge is a steep climb, a single-track road that winds up through a sheer-sided cutting cut into an escarpment, and it was the only way to reach the plateau above, and Tom Price at this time.  Halfway up I heard the sound of an air-horn blast three times; I thought nothing of it.  A short time later I heard a single blast, still, nothing registered.  As I heard the next blast, the nose of a Kenworth came around a bend.  It skidded to a jarring halt, as the driver saw me.  A few choice words from him had me back up a hundred yards, to a place where he could just squeeze past.  As his cab came alongside mine he told me.

"When you are coming down you stop at the top and give three blasts.  If you hear nothing you come down, blasting once every so often.  If you are going up you stop at the bottom and blast twice, as you go up you give two blasts."  Simple, if you know the drill. 

 

I arrived at Tom Price two hours ahead of my deadline, parked the truck and had a meal.  The camp boss though and insisted I was staying to work with the truck.  But one radio call confirmed that I was to return to Perth, so I was taken out to the landing strip. I to wait for the plane, him to pick up the personnel it was bringing up.  Bells had their own aircraft and I flew back to Perth, in a four-seat single-engine Cessna.  The pilot’s nickname was Mad Max, and he lived up to it by flying close to the ground to round up a wild heard of donkeys.

 

It seemed I was to be a delivery boy, for the next few months I spent my time taking new vehicles of all types to all the mining camps. And sometimes bringing back old beat-up vehicles, of all types. I got to know my way around Western Australia very well.

 

 

Two trips took me to Alice Springs; we that is Bells were building a new road from Alice to Darwin.  I was to take a water tanker with a full load of fresh clean water there, leave it and fly home.  They wanted the water for use in the camp’s kitchen; they would be using bore water for compacting the road. I headed out on the Great Eastern Highway through Northam, Southern Cross, and onto Norseman where I stopped for the night.  From here you are on the Glass highway, the correct name is Eyre highway.  It had been nicknamed Glass highway because of all the windscreens that had been smashed along its length.

 

The Eyre Highway is or was a dirt road, which runs across the Nullarbor Plain.  It is just inland of the Great Australian Bight, a vast expanse of land with no change of scenery to keep you from getting bored.  But there were always plenty of potholes to avoid.  I was once told, if you see a smooth stretch of road, avoid it, it’s more than likely a pothole filled with bulldust.  I have seen trucks with broken springs on the side of the road, because of driving into one.

 

The only stop I can remember was at Eucla, just before the border with South Australia.  There is a large roadhouse here, with everything for the weary traveller.  I never meant to stay there, but I got talking to some drivers.  They told me of a shortcut through the lakes at that time of year, and then on to the Stuart highway.  Before I knew it, it was time for bed.

 

In the morning I got going at sunup, turning off the highway at Cadune.  Headed into the bush following the track I was told about, no signpost to tell me that I was on the right road.  And I was told there would be none.  The dust was very fine and seemed to roll away from the tyres, like water to be picked up by the vortex at the back.  Tossed into the air, it would form a huge cloud of dust.  That dust lingered in the air and could be seen for miles.

 

There were many sidetracks, but they all led back to the main road, most likely detours around bogy patches in the wet.  Climbing out of the low country the road was the normal red gravel, but it ran straight as an arrow disappearing into the distance like a red ribbon.  I had driven one hundred miles through the area they call the lakes, and I had not seen a drop of water.

 

This was now open flat plain; the only thing to spoil the view was a cloud of dust coming towards me.  It turned out to be one of Bells low loaders returning home from Alice.  We stopped nose to nose and had a chat for half an hour.  He told me where to find the campsite, but I would most likely find the men in Alice.  He also told me not to say I had come this way, as the company forbade taking shortcuts on unmade roads.

 

The most important thing he told me, was where to get a good meal in Coober Pedy.  It was dark when I pulled into the pubs large parking area.  Walking into the café, I asked if it was okay to park for the night.  I was told yes but if that thing is full of fuel, park it in the corner as far away as possible. His eye’s lit up as I said not fuel, but fresh soft sweet water from Perth. He then made me an offer that was very hard to refuse, (so I didn’t,) an evening meal a jug of beer and breakfast, for a two hundred gallon tank of water.  In the pub bar that night I was offered several pieces of opal, by some of the miners.

 

 

Some were ground and polished, others rough and straight from the diggings.  I had to decline them all, as I didn't carry a lot of money. Realising I was not in the market to buy, one old miner after several glasses of my beer showed me how to tell a good opal.  He had rings of varying value that looked the same to me until he explained how they were made.  The most important thing to do is to turn the ring, so you are looking at the back of the opal.  If you cannot see the stone, but just a black backing it is not one opal but a thin layer of good opal topped with clear or milky opal.  The black substance has a layer of silver on it. it does the same if you put it on the glass, and turn it into a mirror.  The light and the colours of the good opal are reflected in the clear opal.

 

In the morning I was up with the sun and joined the early risers for a breakfast of steak and eggs.  Most of the work is done early in the morning, as by midday it gets a bit too hot, so they stop until evening then would start again.

 

It is about four hundred and fifty miles, or if you prefer seven hundred km’s from Coober Pedy to Alice Springs.  I had about eight hours or more driving before I reached Alice, I should be there around mid-afternoon.  As I drove into Alice, it was not the