Stowaways

Living in a confined space for an extended length of time has it's challenges, but one we didn't really count on was sharing it with other critters.

Early on in the trip, while traveling with Kathie, we managed to pick up some ants that decided the folds of canvas might make a good nest. Thankfully we dealt with them fairly easily and quickly..

Some time after leaving Broome we noticed a bag of bread rolls had been chewed into. The following night in the same location Steph put out his infrared camera which revealed a mouse. The way it looked and moved suggested a run of the mill town mouse. And we moved on. A day or two later I lifted the bed to access clothes and there it was, up in the battery compartment but with easy access to our clothes for a cosy nest. Not much we could do being out of town but a visit to the hardware in Fitzroy Crossing soon fixed the problem. Poor little guy.

About this time I started smelling more thing bad under the bed and assumed it was the mouse. When it continued to worsen after catching the mouse I though it may have left babies somewhere (heaven forbid).

The next day I set about locating the source. It didn't take long to track it to Steph's undies/socks box where treasures are also carefully packed. A black plastic parcel had a chewed spot in it; it looked like the mouse had tried to access what ever was inside (which I couldn't remember at that point).

it turned out not to be something trying to get in, but something trying to get out! Up at One Arm Point on the Dampier Peninsular we had visited a trochus hatchery where the son of our camp hosts worked.  We bought 2 beautiful polished shells there.

Polished trochus shell

Now at this point I know you think it was the shellfish and that they had sold us a live shell, but no. As I unwrapped the parcel I found a shriveled up hermit crab that somehow had taken up residence, stayed hidden on their table of sale items, and then got wrapped up on purchase and had sadly died under our bed!

Small pleasures

I'm sitting in a queue in the stone bath house (ablutions block is far too crude a term here) at Ellenbrae Station campground. People are sitting around the huge donkey wood fired hot water system waiting their turn.

My pores are filled with dust, fingernails are black, feet and shoes a testament to the sooty land and dusty tracks I've covered today. My denim shorts are brown and my hair tied back; 3 days since my last shower. We gather at this place as strangers and sit sharing the same old snippets; the information of travelers ... one young couple from western NSW have only 6 weeks and clearly are trying to travel too far in the time they have. Another couple from Balmain are returning after 20 yrs to fill in some gaps including Mitchell Falls in a hired Apollo that is not insured on that road. Is it worth going to El Questro given the holiday season? And there are questions to me about the Munja Track - is it as bad as they say?

We all look in awe and comment on how clean peoples feet are as they finish their shower. True, the facilities are inadequate for the 20 or so people in the campground but we wait patiently.

Then it's my turn.
For just a few minutes I luxuriate under the low pressure but deliciously hot shower and do my turn reappearing to the awaiting audience. My feet are clean, at least for the next 5 minutes as I stroll back through the dust to our campsite by the ghost gums.