Crisis on Kangaroo Island
Kangaroo Island Travel Blog› entry 8 of 11 › view all entries
July 2nd, 2006 – by: bdstans
The bus was gone when we pulled into the driveway so I deduced that Bob, Lorraine, and Teresa must be in Kingscote. I grabbed my gear off of the truck, thanked Anthony and Rachel for rescuing me from the farm yet again, and made my way through the gate to the yard. My rescuers sped off, eager to get home and de-sand themselves. As I passed through the gate I spotted a familiar face chewing some grass across the lawn by the walkway.
Just then something caught her attention and she bounded off behind me. Where is she off to? I thought. Did I say something wrong? I'd have to make it up to her with some grain, i joked to myself. And then I saw it…the gate. Before I knew what was happening it had already happened. The gate had caught on the grass as I came through it instead of swinging closed behind me as it usually does.
I ran to the store room and grabbed a handful of grain. I sprinted back through the gate and she was near the edge of the forest. I called her name; she stopped and looked. I held out the grain and slowly moved toward her; she turned away, uninterested and was off. Kairoo was deaf and blind to me or anyone else at that moment. All she could see was grass she hadn’t tasted, ground she hadn’t felt beneath her haunches, and all she could hear was “freedom” (I assume anyway…maybe she just really likes pine forests). As she bounded away into the forest my heart sank and I knew what I had to do.
Pack my bag, grab Dad’s guitar, and run like hell. In fact, forget packing. Just grab the backpack on the walkway still filled with grubby clothes and camping gear and high tail it out of there. I couldn’t face Bob and Lorraine. They’d surely be devastated and angry and generally displeased with me and they may even chuck rocks at me. I HATE getting hit with rocks. No, running was my only choice.
Of course I couldn’t actually pack up and go…I mean I was pretty hungry and Lorraine makes some dynamite dinners. I’d have to face them after all.
Around 4:30pm, 10 minutes before they got home, I was in the caravan…asleep. Dead to the world (if you’re sleeping you don’t have to own up to any terrible thing you may have done wrong…genius!).
In the morning I fed the chooks, swept the path, removing the small, chocolate ball remnants of Kairoo, and went inside to tell Bob and Lorraine what had happened to their dear friend, pet, family member. I told them how I was careless, how I wasn’t quick enough, how she bounded away, likely to get creamed on the road. And then I told them how she didn’t much like her new freedom and how, 15 minutes or so before they all returned from Kingscote the evening before, she was right outside the gate eating grass. I opened the gate, invited her in, she hopped in graciously, and I went to sleep.
Man, did I have you guys sweating kangaroo turds or what? Feel free to yell at me for that…I’m pretty sure Amy was laughing the whole time she was reading it because she already knew the outcome. Seriously though, for a couple hours there I was really hating myself and wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Good thing I didn’t…I would have missed dinner.
Aside from the prison break incident and the heart attack it nearly caused me, there really wasn’t any excitement the rest of the week. Bob worked with Tim, Teresa and I helped Lorraine prune the vineyard, and it rained. A lot. Which is good. Thursday I did laundry and took a picture of my underwear because there just aren’t enough pictures of damp underwear hanging from a clothesline on this travel site.
Saturday Rachel and Anthony came over for tea (also known as dinner, which is confusing because I think we’re just going to have some tea and cake, but instead we have dinner and dessert). Afterward they took me out shooting on the farm.
Bryan vs. the Possums and Wallabies….Round Two
My bullets managed to make contact a lot more frequently this time, although my aim is still laughable so Rachel had to put most of what I hit out of its misery with her own dead-eye accuracy. The last wallaby I hit was a clean shot though and we brought it and one of Anthony’s casualties home so that they may have the honor of being our dinner sometime next week. It’s sad I guess to be killing all these fuzzy little creatures, but it’s just the way it is here.
Sunday we went into Kingscote to go to church. Going to church in Kingscote equates to six people in a small rented activity center with a couple hymn books, a guitar, and good stories. It was probably the most tolerable time I’ve had at a church ever. You might even say I enjoyed it.
After church Bob treated Teresa and I to a beautiful drive along a bit of the north coast of the island. We made our way through gorgeous farmland and stopped at Emu Bay and Stokes Bay before heading back home. There was a huge pelican at Emu Bay and I managed to scare him off his perch on the tires not once, but twice. All I wanted was a good photo; all he wanted was for me to get the crap away from him. Understandable…I probably smelled of human something awful.
Stokes Bay was the highlight…it’s breathtaking.
I’ve only 9 more days left on Kangaroo Island before I pack up and head for Cairns on the tropical north coast of Australia (i win!). I’m more than satisfied, thrilled even, with all I’ve seen and experienced here and am excited for a new scene (not to mention warmer climate). I can only hope that I’ll meet people just as generous and hospitable as Bob and Lorraine and their family.
There’s a lot to see on Kangaroo Island (hopefully you’ve gathered as much from my crappy photos) and the people are great, so if you have a chance to make it down here, I highly recommend you take it.
That’s all! See ya!
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