The Locksmith

        Jane paused, considering the two signs on the gate. One warned of large dogs who will bite. The other informed her she was under surveillance, which was quickly confirmed when she spotted a camera on a pole.  She had set off in daylight along a main road, turned onto a more minor thoroughfare then onto a dirt road which aptly wore the title of lane. Now the sun had set and darkness was settling. Thinking about the alternative, which was sleeping in her car with only an old blanket to keep her warm, she took a deep breath and entered the property. 

On the phone he had warned the drive was a kilometre long. He had not said it consisted of two wheel tracks through grass, or that it wound down the hill, or that there were speed humps created where he had dug some ditches for run off. Jane could hear the grass hitting against the car’s underbelly. The headlights lit a sign on a tree. It was like a no smoking sign but in place of the cigarette was a person. She realised that she couldn’t turn around and, with her little caravan at the rear, she had no chance of reversing out, so she continued…more slowly. She could hear her sister in her head admonishing her.

Another sign on another tree; Only stupid people will continue. Then two more, Live bombs and lasers in use. Jane laughed at herself for humming Duelling Banjos. By this time she had come to a complete stop. She rang him.

‘Hi, it’s Jane here. Um, are you safe? I mean, I don't much like the sound of live bombs and lasers,’ she said with a nervous laugh. 

‘Listen,’ he said, without a hint of kindness or humour, ‘Either you want it done or you don’t. Make up your mind, I’m going out soon”.  

Jane wasn’t reassured by his words, or his tone, but she had come this far and she couldn't see any way out except forward. She remembered, when she had been searching for the keys to the van in her car, she had noticed a hammer under the front seat. Before she continued, she located this and put it in the pocket of her pants. Images from the movie, Wolf Creek  flitted through her mind. She adjusted the hammer in her pocket and resolved not to go down without a fight.

At the end of the seemingly endless drive there was a large space for turning. Jane did the turn and pointed the car towards the exit. As the sign had promised, three huge, angry dogs jumped at a gate, snarling and barking. The surge of adrenalin hit as she read the personalised numberplate on one of the two cars behind the gate…KILLER, it read. 

He was a large man with a thick neck and short red hair. He leaned slightly forward from the hips and his arms hung loosely at his sides. His face held no expression. Jane opened the car door and, with her hand in her pocket, clasping the hammer, she stepped out of the car. She planned to stay out of reach. Smiling, she explained she had lost the keys to her van and needed the locks picked. He grunted and turned back to the car with the ominous number plate, returning with a small, grubby canvas bag. Jane thought, he could well be the locksmith, SIRI and Google Maps had led her to, …or not.

He set to picking the lock on the passenger side door of the little teardrop van. Jane stood behind him, and at some distance, her hand in her pocket, holding her hammer.  The man straightened from his task and opened the first door. Jane indicated that she needed the other door unlocked as well as the toolbox on the drawbar. He dealt quickly with the two other locks.  She stood on the other side of the drawbar to him. 

“What’s the damage,” she asked. (The irony was not lost on her). 

“Ten bucks a lock, so that’s thirty.” Throughout, he remained stoney faced.

“Here’s fifty,” she said. “I’m just so grateful”. 

“No, I’ll get change,” he said, as he went to his car. While he was doing this, Jane quickly got in the car, and hoped he didn’t hear the central locking click.

He passed the change through the window. “I don’t rip people off,” he said with just the tiniest hint of a smile.

“Thank goodness, you don’t appear to rip people’s heads off, either”, Jane thought to herself as she started the car and escaped. 

Three readings in one day.

While visiting the Edmund Markets recently, I thought I would have a psychic reading to wait out the rain. It rained a lot, so I had another with another psychic. Having had two, I thought I might as well go the hat trick and have another.

Number 1—Emerald.

While Emerald closed her eyes, and held both my hands in hers, she looked totally unremarkable. Another of those invisible older women. Grey shoulder length hair, baggy top over a long skirt. No tinkling jewellery, no scent of sandalwood just a few little grey hairs on her chin. Her closed eyes darted in every direction, she chuckled, she frowned and, at one point dropped one hand to wave someone or something away. When she suddenly dropped my hands and opened her eyes, she said, “You’re a bit quirky!”  I liked that, I don’t always want to be just another one of the invisible crowd. 

As she spread the cards haphazardly over the table, she said, “You’re intuitive”.  I was intuiting that she told most people the same thing…it does produce a sort of smug inner glow in the recipient, however. She could also tell I was a kind, giving person who had taken care of others all my life.  I suspect there are a few ‘others’ who may disagree with her. I smiled demurely. And let’s be honest her judgement would be accurate for most women my age.

She directed me to pick twelve cards from the pile. These cards predicted a sunny future, a substantial windfall of money, and a man who has his house in order. The triple whammy!  I told her I didn’t much go for men, and she stressed the cards were gender neutral. “My first impression of you was gay, but I don’t like to make assumptions,” she laughed. She laughed a lot. Of course, as I have cared for others so much, now is the time for me. I should take care of my feet, apparently. There’s travel ahead, in fact I’m a gypsy soul. Who would've guessed that. I laughed a lot too.

But…the main point I took from the chuckling Emerald is that I should write. ‘Maybe’, she said, ‘That’s where the money will come from.” We both laughed.

I walked away feeling a little less cynical. The thought of certain money and love in the near future has the power to do that. I wanted to believe.

Number 2—Forgotten her name.

This one didn't seem as happy to be plying her trade as Emerald had been. I had the impression of a bored suburban housewife making a few pennies on the side. She had no tools of trade, just herself and two chairs facing each other. The same flattering appraisal about my intuitive abilities. In fact she said, “You could do my job!”   I think I probably could!  Again, I shouldn’t worry about money but no mention of love on the horizon. But guess what??!! I should write. ‘Write?’, I said incredulously. ‘Definitely.” she said, “My guides tell me you should not worry, just sit down with a pen and paper and it will come.” 

I wasn't cynical and I wasn't convinced but I must admit to being a little amazed.

Number 3—Susan

The name ‘Susan’, doesn’t have a particularly spiritual ring to it and neither did Susan’s appearance. Perhaps Emerald looked like this in younger days. I checked, Susan didn’t have any hairs on her chin. Well not yet. 

Susan was another hand holder. Guess what? Apparently I’m intuitive! I had no idea. However, no money, no man, or woman for that matter. Susan, like the others told me lots of things which could be applicable to other women my age. I tried to stay neutral, smiled and nodded occasionally. It was becoming a little ho hum by now.

Then, out of the blue Susan says,”Are you being pulled to Western Australia? I feel as if you are, you should go, definitely go!” I said, “Yes, I desperately want to visit my old aunt”. She smiled triumphantly. I grinned…I’ve been pondering the trip for ages. 

She closed her eyes and scanned me, “Be careful of your heart”. I didn’t ask but I wondered, “Is this the love connection or should I continue to mind my cholesterol?”  “I sense some trouble in your gut”….clearly the lactose free diet isn't cutting it!  “Watch your knee.” I did and it didn’t do anything notable. 

I had a clue she was winding up because she checked her phone, for the third time. Did I have any questions? “Yes”, I said, trying to work out how to ask it without leading her, “What about creative pursuits?” I dismissed her first suggestion of painting…been there, done that - badly.  Then, as if it was a huge surprise to her, she said, “Writing! It’s all around you. You must write”

                                                   ————————-

I’m still cynical but I had been wanting to make that trip to Kalgoorlie to see my aunt and cousins, so I will. I have been thinking of going gluten free anyway, and now seems as good a time as any. I don’t hold out any great hopes but will keep my eye out for a partner with money and all her shit together.  Don’t worry, I’ll write about it and keep you up to date.

If all else fails, I can pitch a tent, with a couple of chairs, some hippy clothes and clinking jewellery…well, you’re intuitive, you'll know what I have in mind. 

Henley on Todd

What do you do if you live in the desert where the river rarely runs but you want to raise money for the community? You have a charity boat race...of course!

I attended the 55th Henley on Todd, in Alice Springs, with a few thousand other townsfolk and tourists. There were 'boat races' of all sorts from single person kayaks, canoes, rowing boats, small sailing boats up the the combative finale between the Vikings, the Navy and the Pirates.

 The whole event had the atmosphere of a family sports day. Anyone could take part in the races with all classes of 'water' conveyance. 

The battle was wet, floury, dusty, smelly and very noisy.

The winners of the battle, decided by crowd enthusiasm, were The Navy

Blooming Desert

It is winter (well so called, winter) in the centre. But to a southerner, it seems warm.  Well, there were a few sub zero mornings but the days have been mild,  although the locals bedeck themselves with all the accoutrements of winter....beanies, scarves, coats, jumpers, leggings.... The dessert, however, clearly believes it is spring and following the rains earlier in the year, it is an absolute garden.

Smack Bang in the Centre again.

I did the big drive from Melbourne to Alice Springs. It took me four days of varying length with the average being about seven hours.

But it's easy driving, the Stuart Highway is great and hardly any interruptions from crossroads or towns. The scenery is epic and the sky brilliant.

It was cold and green in Victoria

Misty and mysterious, early in the morning, outside Port Augusta

Stately and mature desert oaks

One of the salt lakes with water and glistening salt crystals at the edge.

Great road and wonderful sky in front, and behind.

Evidence of opal seeking ant men in Coober Pedy

Another early start from Coober Pedy

The vast outback is very bright and very red

Cable workings

As promised, here is the guff about the workings of the cable trams.

Cables for the tram run continuously underground. The 'grip man' uses a lever to engage with the cable. At intersections, where cables cross, he has to release and regrip. He also has brakes.

The cables come into the cable house from the various routes and wind about these powered wheels. 

These sheaves in the wheel house are not powered but guide the cable to where it needs to go, including around corners. 

Other underground sheaves are located as required to guide the cable and make it available for the trams, throughout the route. 

The cable tram network was much more extensive but much of it was destroyed by fire and earthquake at different times. The remnant routes are used by a few locals as transport but their main purpose is tourism.

Trolley busses powered by overhead electricity run on rails in other parts of the city. These restored examples can be caught at Fisherman's Wharf. Other more modern trolley busses operate elsewhere.

Trams

Maybe you can take the girl out of Melbourne but not the Melbourne out of the girl.  I have such a fond feeling for trams and I loooove the cable variety of San Francisco. The trams themselves are cute, the hills they navigate are, to stay the least, spectacularly steep, and the mechanism behind their operation boggles my mind. It is the last manually operated cable tram in operation in the world.

It is hard to show how steep the streets are but if you straighten out the street, the buildings lean more than the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

The trams fly down the hills and the conductor applies the back brakes to slow the tram, but not by much!

And of course, there is Lombard Street, the crookedest street in the world. If you look carefully you can see all the cars winding down through the hydrangeas. The residents pay a couple of guys to keep order and amuse the gawkers.

Back to the trams.

The trams are turned by hand on a wooden turntable

The trams have no motors of their own, but a mechanism which grips a cable running below the road. For some reason, Blogger thinks I have included enough photos. So I will have to show you the workings of the trams in the next post!