I spent the past couple of weeks working up north, from Gimuy country (Cairns) to Pajinka (The Tip). Apparently it’s a bucket-list item for many, so, off we headed to reach the point right at the top of the Australian continent. I worked alongside another guide, and we had a small group of six to take along with us.
It was go, go, go. Busy. Lots of driving, camp setting up and packing down, and watching the world go by through the windows of a big ass, 4wd truck!.
It’s interesting how, when we’re busy, our creative brain takes a little break, especially when we’re busy and working. It’s logistics and peopleing and managing behaviour and hydration of the people around us. It’s creating relationships with locals, animal spotting, swimming in waterfalls, looking for crocodiles (apparently there are so many, but we only saw one swimming by camp on the last morning!)
I’m used to guiding solo, and when I do that, I have the opportunity to really get to know the guests. But I found that when working with another guide, I spent more time chatting with him and had to consciously take the time to get to know my guests.
One guest this trip wasn’t particularly open with important medical and dietary information, so as he got to a point of explosion, we pieced together the jigsaw of information we’d received and behaviour he had shown to understand how we could support him. Something that I probably would’ve done more easily and quickly had I checked him in and had those conversations earlier. But camping trips are a lot busier, and those conversations happen when we get the time. Which meant an abusive customer that needed to be managed, and then accommodating him once we knew what we were working with.
It was interesting working with another guide. I noticed things that would have triggered the fuck out of older versions of myself. Little things like being told how to fold a ground sheet, which now I can just take a breath at and laugh on the inside, because I know he was just trying to be helpful. He was a super lovely guy, very considerate and caring. So, for me to be triggered would be a waste of my energy and time, because his comment wasn’t coming from a place of ego or control, and my reaction is mine to own.
I gave myself a little pat on the back for the growth I can see in myself. I don’t often celebrate my achievements. Certificates go in drawers unopened and trophies get thrown in the bin, but this week I acknowledged my growth!
I also reflected as I noticed how I didn’t do all the things I’d normally have done at the welcome meeting or coming into the tour, because I knew it wasn’t all on me. Something I’d do differently if or when I co-guide again. I’d ask the questions that came to mind because, as my old boss would say, “if it’s worth a thought, it’s worth some action.”
I didn’t want to check what he’d done, because he’s capable and I fully trust him. But then when the sat phone wasn’t working, I got annoyed that I hadn’t checked that, which made me think of other things I didn’t check simply because he was there. It was all okay. We had everything we needed. But in moments of tiredness, I questioned things I wouldn’t have questioned had I just ticked the boxes I should’ve ticked at the start of the trip.
I kind of let my mind and my co-guide override my intuition. Another lesson.
It’s great to see growth and not-growth reflected back when working so closely with other people. I’m not in a relationship, so this was a little flash into one, where I could reflect and notice my behaviour around others in such close quarters. This isn’t a reflection on the other guide. It’s 100% a me reflection, as always! Me, me, me!!
Like the moment when he grabbed tomatoes and I was about to say, “Don’t we have tomatoes?” But I didn’t, because I wasn’t actually sure and he probably knew. We did have tomatoes, and we got to donate a bag to another camp.
I said, “Do we need coffee?” He said we should be fine. I ran out of coffee for the drive back. It was really interesting witnessing the little thoughts that popped up in my mind over the trip, and noticing how often I let another person, or my own mind, override those quiet moments of knowing. Grateful to have spent two weeks in a space where I could see this so clearly.
In Weipa, we went to the cultural centre and saw the hand-printed agreement the Traditional Owners have with the mining company. It seemed quite positive. The last group who mined up there weren’t nice, but Rio Tinto seem to be doing a better job of working with the locals, making sure local kids can get an education and head to boarding school or university if they want.
Healthcare, facilities, Sorry Business funding, employment - an agreement the wild West could probably learn from.
We swam in stunning waterfalls, but it would’ve been nice to swim more. I feel like the north has been ripped off. Beautiful beaches and so many waterholes, but you can’t swim ‘cos of Mr Chompy!
My co-guide got to take the group over to Thursday Island, and I got to drive back in my huge 4WD truck, with no music, alone to Cairns. I had a speaker, but it would only work for a few songs then switch off, so I decided to just drive in silence.
I love driving in silence so much. Just driving. Especially after such a huge couple of weeks of peopleing.
Because I chose to just drive, I started thinking about how many Countries I’d been driving through. I’d travelled north from Gimuy, through rainforest and river crossings, along the Bloomfield Track and through Wujal Wujal (many falls) on the homelands of Eastern Kuku Yalanji, Kuku Nyungul and Jalunji peoples. Further north came Kutini-Payamu, the place most maps still put in brackets as Iron Range National Park, on Kuuku Ya’u Country. Then west to Wypa, on Alngith Country, before turning north again through the Peninsula. Country cared for by many different peoples for so many thousands of years. Eventually the road ran out at Pajinka, on Gudang Yadhaykenu Country.
There’s something really cool about knowing these places had names long before the English ones on my maps. I wasn’t driving through one enormous blank space called Cape York. I was moving through Country, through places that have been known, named, travelled, cared for and storied for thousands of generations.
On the solo drive south, I began seeing it differently.
The road changed beneath me: white dust, yellow dirt, orange, then that deep Cape red. A rainbow in dust of the road. Country shifting beneath the tyres, termite mounds standing like guardians beside the road. I started seeing the termite mounds as the protectors of the Cape. I saw faces, gnomes, angels and other figures in all of them. I wasn’t going delirious, I always see things when I’m present and connected!!!
I had bright green lizards run in front of the truck and giant fluffy wasp-type things fly inside the cab. There were so many cows crossing the road in front of me. They are pretty road smart, if I do say so. There were wild horses, bright blue-winged kookaburras, brolgas, dogs, galahs, cockatoos and plenty of people to chat to on the radio once I turned it off and on again multiple times to stop it scanning and actually get it onto Channel 40.
Turns out turning things off for a while can make them work again. Bit like humans, I suppose!
The people out on the Cape were beautiful. Everyone was really kind, and I had no doubt in my mind that they’d be there to help anyone in need. It was nice to get my feet in the red dirt again, but I did have a moment where I thought: dirt isn’t dirty. Dirt is just nature dust. When something is dirty, it’s mouldy or gross. Dirt isn’t gross.
Saying that, all my clothes and my feet are now very dusty and in need of a good scrubbing!
Somewhere along the drive, my imagination really started firing. I had this whole poetic piece unfolding in my head about the Cape, and I thought, brilliant, I’ll voice-to-text it while I drive and use it later as a pitch for my book!
Except the voice-to-text result was a complete babble of random words that sounded nothing like what had actually come out of my mouth. My profound thoughts on red dirt, birds, travel and life translated into absolute rubbish.
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So much for capturing my literary genius in real time! Next time I’ll just voice memo that shit.
I drove back down the sometimes bumpy as fucks corrugation, through river crossings and along newly graded roads while my imagination continued in poetic overload.
The shades of white, yellow, orange and red dirt lining the earth. Blue skies and birdlife circling above. The flaps of many wings in the distance, feasting on roadkill, normally a dead pig, then taking off into the sky as I got closer. Eagles, kites and ospreys flying up, down and around as I drove by.
The red-dust-stained trees lined one side of the road, the downwind side, while burn-offs created a smoky haze, mixed with charcoal bark and fresh green epicormic growth.
The green bum ants were everywhere. The occasional snake made its way through camp.
And the stars. Ohhhhhh, the stars.
We slept under the stars each night, and because it was a new moon, with a clear sky and no light pollution for miles, we were treated to bazillions of stars. When the moon finally showed up, it was just a sliver and wasn’t up all night, so we were treated again and again to the Milky Way and the serenity of it all.
I can’t believe some people prefer bright lights, big cities and resorts when travelling. I suppose it’s about balance. I can take both, but for those who have never slept under the stars, a long way from city lights, you should try it someday.
The stars are really something special.
