Solo Road Tripping

It's Easter time which means its the perfect time for a Great Aussie Road Trip.

Usually Easter at our home is a big deal. The Easter Tree is put up and decorated with eggs and choc carrots and iced bunnies. The arrowroot biscuits are iced in bright colours, with names, with dots and chevrons and coloured sprinkles. The gaudier, the better. 

This year will be the first year ever, we aren't all together as a family. We have 4 kids heading to Airlie to jump out of a plane, and the baby flying down to the big smoke for the weekend, shopping. Rather than staying home alone, with the chocolate, I decided on a solo road trip to Brisbane, taking the inland route. Like Beyond the Black Stump, inland. 

I set off early, and watched the beautiful sun rise as I drove toward the east. I saw family cars packed with camping gear and bikes, and I smiled knowingly at the already weary young Mum, wishing I could stop and hug her, remind her what a great job she's doing making memories for her kids. 

I saw DIDO workers rushing to get home for Easter, wobbling from side to side of the road with fatigue, stopping each 50 kilometres to smoke and drink coffee, fooling themselves that the caffeine is the magic ingredient to making it home in one piece. I prayed to any force I know, to help these people arrive at their chosen destination safely.

I saw drenched, Stop/Go workers standing in the rain, directing traffic around the reconstruction and roadside tree lopping, each looking longingly at the stream of cars passing them by. I could almost feel their desperation to be anywhere else than on the side of the muddy road, I could almost see their daydreams of the beach and a cold beer. I gave the obligatory 2 finger wave and silently said a prayer for their shift to end tonight and see them heading home to their loved ones. 

I found a old school radio station that played songs from the 80's and I stopped on the side of a country road to cry after three songs in a row reminded me of my best friend Ag, who's now been gone 4 years.Brian Cadd, Anne Murray played first, but it was Jackson Browne's "Stay" that tipped me over the edge and demanded I pull up for ten minutes. 

You know how some people pop into your life and then seem to inhabit every moment afterwards? That was Ag. She was not only larger than life, she was longer than life. Her presence is still felt, in the music, in my everyday speech, in my learned ability to find the funny side of most situation. I miss her. 

I ordered weak watery coffee from a smiling, young backpacker at a service station and was well over charged for it as usual, but the break was welcomed for the opportunity to stretch some muscles, sore from the previous nights exercise class. This trip is in the new ute, I'm bringing home some plants from Brisbane, and I can assure you, this ride is no where near as comfortable as the Chrysler.. The pedometer I wear on my wrist is telling me I have completed more than 10 000 steps today, so that's an indication of how rough the journey is in this vehicle. The roads have been badly damaged by the water and floods of the last Cyclone, and the stress I'm feeling in my shoulders is testament to that.. Lol, all my flying about is making me soft. 

I pushed on towards Monto, where I stumbled across a photography display of photos from the 50's to the 70's. I got talking to an older man  known locally as Spook, who, incredibly was the photographer. He is 86, and the most interesting person to talk to. He is still very passionate about photography and the true essence of film based photography. Spook, Liz and Lyn, were spending the morning scanning and cataloging his photos, to enable them to be stored digitally.  It is a huge job, and made necessary after a flood ruined a large proportion of his collection a year or two ago. Wonderfully genuine country people, if ever you are passing Monto on a Wednesday morning, stop and check out his work. it's one of those hidden gems that you leave feeling like your soul has been somehow enriched from the experience. 

Feeling rejuvenated, I drove on towards Kilkevan, the recent winner of the Small Town Culture Competiiton. With only 678 residents, it was up against some stiff competition from Clermont, but Kilkevan won. I'm secretly glad. Kilkevan has an aura of small town charm, it's quiet streets provide a serenity to the weary traveller. The German strudel and coffee shop was open, and doing a roaring trade, but I resisted and moved on toward a rain soaked Brisbane. 

I witnessed quite a number of close calls and saw the result of a single car and caravan rollover. The caravan was no taller than a Suzuki Swift by the time it was lifted onto the flat bed hired to remove the highways debris. The remnants of this mans life strewn across the lanes of the highways, served to remind all, to slow down and take much more care on the wet slippery roads.

Finally, my exit loomed upon me and I made the transition into the left lane. I had made it. It took me 11 hours to drive between our two homes. 11 hours of 80's music, bad roads, rain, and speeding erratic drivers. 11 hours to think, sing and remember those people I miss. 11 hours to practise my next public speaking event, refine my affirmations and to set new personal goals. Spending that much time alone with your thoughts is an incredibly empowering time, and I've emerged with a new found strength of spirit and reinforced knowledge that we aren't here forever. Time to make the most of the days I have left.

All in all 11 hours of my life pretty well spent, and my pedometer recorded 16347 steps whilst driving. Lol. 

Winning!!