Feisty and Faithful Creature Comforts

by Cilla Geldenhuys (Australia)

I didn't expect to find Australia

“Huh! What is that horrific noise?” Buzz leapt out of bed, dragging my share of the bedclothes with him. For a fleeting moment, I thought he was going to fling his body protectively across mine. Instead, he hunched at the end of the bed. I listened. Then smiled. “It’s Big Ben.” We were on the return leg of our odyssey across the Nullarbor; that place described by pioneer explorer Edward John Eyre as ‘one of the wildest and most inhospitable wastes of Australia.’ Caiguna, the eastern end of the longest straight stretch of road in the world, 146,6 km, is the hub of the universe if the roadhouse community signpost is to be believed, 9 192 km from Hong Kong, 11 082 km from Tokyo and 17 652 km to Big Ben in London. We had arrived, a bit stressed, at the ‘middle of everywhere’ the previous evening, at kamikaze kangaroo hour, when kangaroos launch themselves indiscriminately at passing vehicles. I don’t blame Buzz for not noticing Big Ben the night before. During my childhood years, Big Ben was an icon of steadiness amid the global crumbling realities of 9/11. And now, intrepid traveller that I am, when Big Ben pops up in unexpected places, I am grounded and restored. When you grow up in South Africa, Big Ben is not some famous bell at the Palace of Westminster, but a faithful and feisty hand-reared rooster. His clamorous clarion call to order at dawn in inner-city suburbia - where such noisy creatures were strictly forbidden – used to set the neighbours’ multitudinous parrots off in passionate and realistic imitation. Quick question. Which creature would you blame for disturbing early morning slumbers? That homely patriarch of our chook harem always defied our border collie, Pilgrim, Night after night, he herded his flock onto the back-door mat. As a nomadic adult, Big Ben’s intermittent re-appearances are a restorative balm, flashbacks to home. I recall a gruelling 400 km autumn cycle in the shadow of the Great Wall of China. Admiring the red, orange and brown blankets draped over the mountains around us, I spotted a tiny blip of similar colouring strutting along the path. Much to the amusement of my mates, I dismounted to formally greet and enthuse over Big Ben. Tiredness forgotten - what a great afternoon. That was certainly not the first time Big Ben made a comeback. There was the year we were in Paris over Summer Solstice. At the end of that longest of days, we sat down flat on des Champs-Elysees, nibbling baguettes, sipping wine and watched as thousands of music lovers and wannabe music makers hit the streets in a cacophony of infectious bonhomie. You must experience it to believe it. We went back the next year it was that good. Earlier the festivities outside Notre Dame were frantic; a housewives’ pots and pans band competed with nuns chanting, enormous speakers across the street flung heavy metal at us. And in perfect harmony with his surroundings, a familiar-looking rooster pecked rhythmically at corn kernels spilling from the pockets of the toe-tapping workworn old man sitting next to me. It was such a peaceful evening. Fast forward to Buzz’s rude awakening in Caiguna last September when we set out to earn an “I have crossed the Nullarbor” sticker. Nullarbor from the Latin for No Trees. What crap. There were plenty. In the beautiful haunting monotony of the semi-arid landscape, we encountered crashed-out NASA space debris, a town full of windmills, cavorting whales, outback pubs, road trains, and more to check out on our next trip around. Then there was this sign; YCWCYATDDFTRFDTY, propped up at every bar along our 3 000-plus km journey. In Cocklebiddy, I asked the sad attendant whose dog had died what it meant. She held up a moneybox. “Your curiosity will cost you a two-dollar donation for the Royal Flying Doctor. Thank you,” she said deadpan. I paid up and as I left, I tripped over a rooster. The sign outside read: Welcome to Cocklebiddy. Population 8, Budgies 25, Quails 7, Dogs 1, Kangaroos 1 234 567. With a borrowed chalk I crossed out Dog and wrote Rooster.