most spectacular sights; gorges,
bushland, wildlife, mountain ranges
all in abundance but it’s the water-
falls and swimming holes that will
have you laughing the most. It’s what
the Gibb is famous for.
Something was rummaging
through the rubbish bag left out from
the nights dinner. Whispering in the
tent it was decided I should get out to
discourage whatever it was.
“Bet it’s a bloody dingo,” I mut-
tered as I climb from the comfort of
my bed. The rubbish bag had been
sealed and jammed into the space be-
tween motorcycle seat and rack, only
something big was going to be able to
get at it.
It was our first night at Bell Gorge,
30 kilometres from the main road, an
oasis at the end of a rough track and
numerous river crossings. I searched
around the bike and could see that
something had found the bag, tore
it apart and carried numerous items
away. The area was surprisingly rub-
bish free.
Opportunity presented itself. I
relieved my bladder against a tree
and almost peed on myself when the
sound of a tuna tin rattled above my
head. I looked up, saw nothing. I
laughed.
The daylight hours presented a
different picture. I looked up the
rock escarpment next to where we
were camped. Rubbish littered the
rock face. Bugger! I couldn’t leave it
there. I climbed and wished I had the
skills of Paul Pritchard (a climber of
note) and his mates, this was going to
take me hours if I ever made it at all.
Amazed, I found the culprit. A
bowerbird had collected numerous
items and spread it amongst his con-
struction.
“I bet the missus comes home
and complains about that mess,” I
laughed with the inventive bird. The
more I thought about male bower-
birds building elaborate nests to
attract a mate only to have the female
TRAVERSE 91
of the species demonstrate her un-
happiness with what has been pre-
sented by adjusting the minutest of
details. Rubbish in hand, I climbed
down, laughing so hard, I was con-
vinced I would fall to a certain death.
I laughed.
Murray, an older bloke travelling
on his own, camped beside us and
laughed as much as us when he pre-
sented a cold beer and chocolate at
4pm.
“Must surely be beer o’clock.
What do you reckon?” he grinned.
I laughed in agreement. It always
amazes me that a complete stranger
suddenly becomes a lifelong friend
by handing a hot and dusty motorcy-
clist a cold beer without even know-
ing the name of the recipient.
Laughter roared around our small
camp as we discussed the night
before. A strange encounter with an-
other traveller after one of us became
locked in a remote toilet. An unlikely
story, all very true. We laughed. That