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‘Don’ care how small. Jist aint gunna happ
en. I reckon ya move on, mate.’
‘But I need to test that creek. Here, look at the map.’
The dogger didn’t bother. ‘Listen, mate. That old station and well was abandoned back in the 50’s. I use it fa storage area me supplies an’ pelts.’
‘What about this one? It leads off your track.’ Petri pointed to the map.
‘Nope. Goes ta a old well CSIRO drilled it for local Abos fa fresh water. Din’t work. An’ they all pissed off.’
Petri didn’t want to antagonise him but he’d come too far to miss this important sampling site. ‘It’s important that we get all the information we can. Once we have that we can make decisions. It may never come to detailed exploration or mining, but we have to know the facts before we can decide.’
These explanations made no difference. ‘It’s quiet, an’ far away. I like it that way. I only use it coupla times a year and I don’ want people turnin’ it into a fuckin’ freeway.’
Petri gently tried to point out that the whole area was on Crown Land and, as a geologist, he had all of the appropriate permits for exploring. He had every right to travel freely in search of samples.
The dogger heard him out but his response indicated that it made little impact. ‘Makes no fuckin’ difference ‘round ‘ere, mate. Law’s a long way ‘way an’ we don’ like strangers pokin’ about. Ya’d be better headin’ off down that way, back to Kal.
This track goes no-where ‘cept the old well, coupla humpies an’ me camp while I hunt them bloody dogs.’
The way he emphasised ‘my camp’ made Petri feel like a very unwelcome trespasser. Better to collect samples slightly further downstream without upsetting the old bugger. Petri pretended to accept his advice. He rolled up his map and climbed into his vehicle. He leaned out of the window as he started the engine. ‘Thanks for your help. I’ll see if I can find another way.’ He thought he might just turn back if the dogger drove away. However, in the rear-view mirror he saw that he was watched until the ubiquitous dust trail obscured his vision.
A few kilometres further on he pulled over and looked back. No sign of dust from a following vehicle. He needed to think. He turned off the engine and picked up the aerial photographs.
Although out of date by several years they clearly showed a track leading to a cluster of buildings only about 500 metres from where the old drainage should pass. These were obviously the buildings that had once formed the core of the CSIRO Research Station. Yet the grizzled, short-tempered dogger had said that there were no permanent settlements in the area. His claim that the old station was used only as a storage depot seemed strange for such a large set up. In addition, the Cundeelee mob indicated it was still in use by a beekeeper, confirmed by Petri’s visit to the Department of Agriculture in Perth. It just didn’t add up. According to the dogger the other track led to the abandoned well. Like most attempts at finding fresh water in this part of the Great Victoria Desert, it was likely that it had produced only saline water, no good for plants, beast or man. However, Petri knew that the well at the station was unusual in that it had provided water that was at least drinkable.
He studied the aerial photographs closely. The best place to sample would be to follow the ‘forbidden’ track for ten kilometres after it left the main track. It was unusual to find such a hostile person in this extremely remote area. Chance meetings, because so rare, were usually cordial. In the outback people recognised mutual interdependency. Petri wondered if the dogger also kept bees, remembering what he had been told at Cundeelee, or if there was someone else at the old CSIRO station. None of this made sense.
Petri studied the photograph more closely. Even taking into account the age of his maps and photographs, it was quite clear the track had not been abandoned years ago. Petri knew tyre tracks that flattened spinifex and delicate shrubs in virgin desert took years for the scars too heal. But this track showed no sign of recovery. If abandoned years ago, it would not be as clear as it now appeared. It had to be in more constant use. The dogger’s comments did not make sense and the track was undoubtedly the best route for accessing the sampling site. So why did the dogger warn him off so emphatically?
The cluster of buildings at the end of the track also indicated something more substantial than a couple of humpies. Apart from the larger structure, which looked like a house and a large tank on a platform, there was a rectangular patch, cleared of vegetation, and what appeared to be a perimeter fence. There were two smaller buildings that could be sheds and what looked like a paved area.
It was decision time. Was the risk of the running into the dogger worth it? Perhaps he should head back to Kalgoorlie and find more information about the place. Petri just wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to delay the program, but he couldn’t forget the rifle in the back of the stranger’s ute. From where he was he could drive straight through to Kalgoorlie and be there in a few hours. With luck he’d find a seat on the MMA plane in the morning. He’d be in Perth within two days.
Petri decided to stop where he was until dusk and then return to see where the track led. He boiled a billy and, after tea, rested in the shade of the vehicle. He thought about the mysterious dogger. What were the old buildings being used for and why had he been warned off? He had to admit that there was something alluring about his secretive reconnaissance visit. Perhaps it was a little like his father had felt, escaping from Finland.
* * *
Karl Brudos watched the strange looking Toyota until the dust settled before climbing back into his own vehicle.
‘Bloody sticky beakin’ strangers,’ he mumbled to himself as he slammed the door shut. Karl started the engine and headed into the track that, only a short time ago, he told Petri he used only rarely.
Towards dusk he pulled up at the locked gates, hooted and waited. The dog barked and paced from side to side in the tray, the chain preventing him from leaping off. From the central building Katherine and Carolyn, both bare-footed, came running. Isaac, wearing only a singlet, followed.
Karl wound down the window and tossed a bunch of keys in front of the gates. ‘Hurry up, ya stupid cow! ‘aven’t time to sit waitin’ for ya ta move ya arse!’
Katherine stretched through the gate wire, picked up the keys and undid the lock. As she opened the gate Karl drove forward, almost knocking her over. He put his hand out of the window and Katherine put the keys into his open palm. She closed the gate and replaced the lock and chain.
Karl pulled up outside the central building and yelled at her, ”ave ya done ya chores? I’m hungry an’ I want me grub. Now.’
‘Yes, all done. And the tank is full. I pumped water this morning. I’ll get tea ready now.’
‘Git a move on. Unload them boxes on the back an’ careful with the traps.’
Karl walked past Katherine as she hurried towards the vehicle and gave her a hearty slap on her behind, laughing as he said, ‘With the boss away you and me’s gunna ‘ave some more fun, eh?’
‘I really don’t want any trouble, Karl. Please. I’m doing all my work and not being a problem. Please. Think of the children. Don’t make trouble for us, or Benjamin.’ She emphasised his name.
