After having such a full Christmas Day celebration, I was surprised to find it a little hard to switch off when we finally rolled into bed at 2300. Even though I was looking forward to sleep an hour or two before I actually got to bed, I found that when I finally lay down my brain was still asking, ‘did I pack that jacket?’, ‘should I set an alarm?’, ‘should I get up to close the window in case the rain blows in?’, and the worst of all ‘what if can’t get to sleep easily tonight?’ I am not sure why, but for some reason the prospect of spending two days in a car still appears to be exciting enough to interrupt sleep…

Even so, the next morning we managed to leave just 15 mins after our scheduled departure time. 0545 and we were on our way. The rains we had expected intensified as we crossed Cunningham’s Gap and made our way to Warwick. There are probably better places (!), but we always gravitate towards MacDonald’s in Warwick. McCafe coffee is at least Rainforest Alliance (which is close to Fair Trade) and the breakfasts are reasonable. While waiting for the coffee, I noticed the man next to me was reading two copies of The Weekend Australian, Naturally, I assumed that they were both provided by the management for clients like me…

“Hey mate, can I have a look at the copy underneath the one you’re reading?” I ask.

“Nope. Coz their both mine…” replied the man with the weathered face, who just had to be a farmer.

“Oh, sorry mate, I thought they were restaurant papers.”

“Nah mate, bought ’em both. We’ve got a mob up from Melbourne, and what do yer reckon would happen with just one paper? So I bought two… but I’d have to be a bit of an arsehole if I wouldn’t let you have a look at one while yer waitin’ for yer coffee…”

There is something about the Australian humour: dry, straight-faced, and specifically designed to make you think you’ve met a closed door. Then surprisingly, the door swings wide open. The subtle smirk at the corner of the mouth, the almost imperceptible wink- or is it a twinkle – tell you you’re speaking to a friend and not a foe. A few minutes later I walked away with a roughly hewn latte, and realised I did not even ask the man’s name. I was blessed by his friendship, and yet did not pay him the courtesy of asking his name of offering mine. I have to do this differently next time, and see if I can out-bless the other.

A big country

As you make your way through Warwick, Goodiwindi, Moree, Narrabri, Coonabarabran and on to Dubbo, you very quickly realise how huge Australia is. There are hundreds of kilometres to cover, and you’re not even halfway to where you want to go. On the Newell Highway this means long stretches of highway driving, punctuated by what seems like equal periods of time stuck behind someone’s Winnebago or caravan. It used to be that the exception to this was Akubra wearing famer, accompanied by his dog, driving a ute. Things are less certain these days. The Toyota or Mitsubishi has replaced the Holden or Ford. But farmer, hat, and the dog, however, appear to have outlasted any innovation the auto industry can throw at them. And they still slow you down…