SPONTANEITY MORE TIMES THAN NOT IS ALWAYS THE BEST…CHAPTER ONE!

Arlington Esplanade, Clifton Beach...I lived on the corner of the Esplanade and Clifton Beach Road

Smithfield Shopping Centre, Northern Beaches, Cairns

Smithfield and surrounding areas

Yorkeys Knob

Chillagoe Smelters

Chillagoe Marble

Ant Hill Hotel, Mareeba

Mareeba (A) to Chillagoe (B)

Chillagoe Landscape

Chillagoe Limestone Outcrops

Brolgas in the Mareeba-Chillagoe Wetlands

Out of the blue one Saturday morning a number of years ago – early 1990, to be more precise - when I was living at Clifton Beach I received a phone call from a friend I’d not seen for a while.

At the time I was working in a real estate office ”Inner Circle Realty”. My position was receptionist/secretary/property manager for rental properties on the northern beaches area of the tropical city of Cairns in Far North Queensland. Our Northern Beaches' office was situated in the Smithfield Shopping Centre, Smithfield.  My hours were Monday to Friday, 8.30 to 5 pm or thereabouts; and Saturday mornings until noon, or thereabouts.  The head office was in Lake Street, Cairns...in the city proper.

  

Shortly after 11 am, I received THE phone call from my friend, “Sprocket”.  I was surprised to hear his voice on the other end of the line.  I’d not seen nor heard from him for quite a while until his phone call that Saturday morning. I had a suspicion Sprocket may have been a distant relative of the Scarlet Pimpernel - "They seek him here, they seek him there..."

Warren was his given name, but he was rarely called anything other than “Sprocket”.  I’d met Sprocket a couple of years previously when I was living at Yorkeys Knob. Mutual friends who had known him for a long time asked me if I could put him up for a couple of weeks or so because he was homeless until the finalization of a property he was in the process of purchasing at Alligator Creek, south of Townsville.  At different stages Sprocket worked on a contract basis within my friends’ road building/airport tarmac construction/engineering company, so I trusted their judgment on his character. And he proved my trust was worthy.  He was a good bloke; and I enjoyed his company.

Sprocket drove a gleaming Kenworth Prime Mover. It pulled a rig equipped with around 12 axles and 8 tyres, or thereabouts. I really had no idea the exact number; suffice to say it was a lot - and it was a big monster!  

At the time of his surprise phone call Sprocket was hauling tanker-loads of lime to mines surrounding the township of Chillagoe on the Atherton Tables. The particular load of lime he toted that weekend was from an area a little south of Chillagoe to the Red Dome Mine, just north-west of the town.  The Red Dome Mine produced gold, silver and copper, along with myriad minerals that included, naming only a few, sulphides, oxides, fluorides, tungstate, silicates and carbonates. Stunning crystallized malachite and glorious quartz and azurite crystals joined the endless list of remarkable deposits.

With little preamble, Sprocket asked me if I’d like to go with him to Chillagoe that afternoon.  If I agreed to his invitation I was to meet him at Mareeba, another small Atherton Tablelands’ town, at a prearranged spot.  There I would park my car and jump aboard the Kenworth for the trip of my life.  Without hesitation, I accepted the plan presented to me.

“Yes!  I’d love to! What time will we meet up?”

I’d never been in a huge prime mover before; and I believed such an offer may never come my way again.  It sounded like an exciting adventure to me.  I’d never been to Chillagoe before, either.  The invitation I’d received sounded far more thrilling than the piece of corned silverside I planned to cook for myself that evening.

We agreed to meet at the corner opposite Mareeba’s Ant Hill Motel at 1 pm.  It didn’t leave me much time. Fortunately, it was a quiet morning in the office. After sharing my excitement at the thought of the adventure that lay in wait for me with my fellow workers, I bade them farewell. And then, sparing no horses, off I raced home to Clifton Beach to attend to my two cats, Pushkin and Rimsky; setting out enough food to cover them during my absence, which would only be 24 hours or so, but I wanted to ensure their needs were attended to. I packed a small bag of toiletries; changed my clothes and hit the road. 

The distance from Clifton Beach to Mareeba is approximately 60 kms (37 miles).  Being a stickler for punctuality I didn’t want to be late. I wasn’t, and neither was Sprocket. Within five minutes or so of my arrival at the pick-up spot he slowed to a stop slightly ahead of where I was parked.  The brakes sighed loudly as the compressed air applied pressure to the pads as the big rig came to a gentle stop. A fire-breathing dragon wouldn’t have been more impressive. At the sight of the Kenworth, my adrenaline increased.  I almost needed a ladder to climb aboard.  I felt like a kid on Christmas morning.  I couldn’t disguise my excitement, or my smile; nor did I care to do so.   

In the words of Willie Nelson, we were “On the Road Again” within minutes; Chillagoe, west of Mareeba, approximately 14kms (87 miles) away, our destination.

Shortly after leaving Mareeba the landscape changed quite drastically.  The lushness of the Atherton Tablelands very soon became a distant memory in the rear vision mirror. 

The landscape between Mareeba and Chillagoe is dry, tropical woodland with limestone outcrops.  The soil is pretty poor and the majority of times, other than during the December to March wet season, parched.  During the monsoon season the wetlands become alive with birds of all kinds that flock there drawn by their natural instincts; or the tom-tom drums.

Chillagoe, itself, has an interesting mining heritage, starting in 1870, but the smelters closed down in 1943, mainly due to the lack of manpower during the Second World War. Pastoral endeavours also played a large part in Chillagoe’s history. 

One thing that Chillagoe is famous for is marble from the extensive cave systems south of the small township. Marble quarries still operate, but in a smaller scale these days.  Chillagoe’s population at present is around 200; back in 1990 it was around 500; in 191 it was a raging 1497!

Travelling along in the big rig was seeing the world around me through different eyes…heightened eyes. I was so high up off the road!  I could see for miles and miles, much more than if driving along in my own car that was a little three-door Hyundai Excel Hatchback at the time.  I could see more than if I was cruising along in any normal vehicle, for that matter.  I felt I was on top of the world….a glorious new world!

We passed a little boy somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Obviously, he was  off a nearby cattle property; the road was his bicycling highway. He stopped pedalling and watched in awe as the big truck loomed down the road.  Sprocket blew the horn as we passed him (I’m not sure if he pressed a button or pulled on a lever); but the sound echoed loudly across the landscape.  I’ll never forget how it made that little bloke’s face light up.  If it had been night time, lights wouldn’t have been necessary.  I reckon the little kid would’ve told all his friends at school on the Monday about the special salute he received that afternoon; and it was something he’d never forget.  I’ve never forgotten that moment of witnessing the pure joy on a young lad’s face.

A little further along the road, Sprocket pulled off onto a side track.  After travelling along the track for about 15 minutes we finally came to a stop.  I can’t remember the name of the area, but it was deserted.  The dusty old sheds showed no signs of life other than us.  I discovered, when we came to a halt, it was where he intended loading the tanker with lime.  No wonder all the old shacks were dusty!

I remained in the cabin while Sprocket leapt to the ground.  I could see him fiddling about with large hoses and other paraphernalia; nothing that I could help him with – or so I thought!

He appeared at the driver’s side door.  “Move across to my seat…behind the wheel.” He said.

A little bemused, I did as I as I was bidden.

“Now, what I want you to do is…” continued Sprocket. “...I’m going to climb up on top of the tanker and control the hoses.  Watch me in the rear vision mirror, and when I signal and call out to you, I want you to reverse the truck so I can then put the hose into another outlet…and so on until I’ve completed filling up with the lime.”

“What?”  I exclaimed in shocked horror.  “You want me to operate this thing…this monster?  You must be joking!  This is the first time I’ve ever sat in one of these…these…things…and you now expect me to drive it…to reverse it!  That’s even worse!”

“You have to be bloody joking!” I repeated. “Or you have a death wish!”

“Nahhh! Don’t worry…it’s easy!  Here…all you have to do is this…it’s simple!” And Sprocket proceeded to show me what I had to do. 

I doubt I took a breath, but I did watch and listen diligently, not missing an instructive word he uttered.  He had faith in me.  All I had to do was find some within myself!

No breath was exhaled until I finished my delegated chore.  I kept a keen eye on Sprocket in the rear vision mirror as he climbed aboard the tanker.  With diligent, unwavering care, I followed his instructions to the letter…and more!  I didn’t want to lose him!  I was out in the middle of I knew not where.  

 If I lost him down one of the outlets on the top of the tanker, he’d be buried in lime; and I’d be stuck with a giant Kenworth prime mover and rig!   

The scenario was too scary to even briefly think about; so I blanked all negativity out of my mind. Determinedly, I gritted my teeth, and did what I had to do.   

The outcome was successful.  

 Sprocket neither became buried in lime, nor did I run him over.  Having not caused his demise, I felt very proud of myself, and considered a possible career change!

With a tanker loaded with lime, Sprocket climbed aboard...in front of the steering wheel...ready to hit the road again; and me, feeling chuffed, back on the passenger seat. 

 We headed for Chillagoe…..