From Warramboo Hill the town of Mount Magnet seems very small.
A beautiful morning with clear blue skies and not so much as a leaf moving. It’s one of those mornings that make you feel good to be alive, except that I wanted to go back to sleep again. No way did I want to get up. I looked around the donga. Daylight showed up all its faults, but heck, what did I expect? The mouth-watering aroma of toast and frying bacon wafted in from the camp kitchen across the way… but I have nothing to cook.
The local IGA is open for two hours this morning, as is the BP service station. We take on fuel, two apples, a carton of milk and some crackers. I have cheese and Weetabix, coffee and long-life cream in tiny cartons. Who needs bacon? I politely acknowledge the indigenous locals sitting outside IGA, waiting for whatever it is they wait for.
A notice pointed west to ‘Lookout’ so, instead of returning to camp, I followed the sign and we were soon off the bitumen and climbing. It might be Sunday, but gold mines can’t afford to operate a five-day week, so I had to give way to a couple of huge dumpsters on the way up. At the top of the small mountain of overburden the lookout faces mainly east. I’m surprised at the number of open cuts and the size of them. They have names, of course, like Hill 60, Black Cat, Hesperus and Reno.
On such a beautiful day I felt I should go somewhere, but on considering the mileage to Meekatharra (and back) I decided a day of R&R would do Camel and me rather more good that whatever interesting goodies may be found further north. Back to the donga for a late breakfast.
One of several open-cut mining operations.
After the disappointment of finding no Wi-fi on the train, there are daily blogs to catch up on, so there is much to do. There’s also the question of the pitch, yet to be finalised and polished before next weekend’s RWA Conference. I am so glad I decided not to fly over and back because I would have only the Conference in my mind – and nothing else. This way each day is exciting and I am squeezing as much as possible out of every moment and trying to notice things I might otherwise simply pass by. Just occasionally in my life I have made a good decision. This is one of them.
During the afternoon the skies clouded over and threatened rain. Clearly there has been good winter rain in this part of the country, for long puddles remain along the roads and wild flowers are appearing in patches of creamy-yellow and pinky-mauve. With the cloud came a rising wind. The feathery foliage of a pepper tree has brushed streaks in the pink dust on Camel, so the port side now has stripes. Interesting.
Another, more distant open-cut. They are everywhere.