Ways to work up to a wine in the bush ...
IN the bush, you are always at risk of your day being high-jacked by an unexpected trauma.
One day out working, Chris unexpectedly approached our rendezvous point on foot.
"I got dry-bogged," he announced.
I could feel my heart race in my chest immediately, adrenalin pumping.
"We need the dozer to pull it out."
He had walked a long way with no water.
The Patrol's right wheels were buried in the dust and she was leaning rather alarmingly to the right.
It had faltered trying to pull the trailer up a steep bank, coming out of a gully.
The trailer was jack knifed at an awkward angle.
"You'll have to steer the car while I try to pull it out with the dozer," Chris said.
I could feel my heart race in my chest immediately, adrenalin pumping.
With the snatch strap in place, I opened the driver's door gingerly, hoping the car wouldn't tip over.
It was difficult to climb in.
Chris inched the dozer forward to take up the slack but, when he tugged the car, instead of moving forward, it sank further to the right.
He stopped immediately.
I was panicking now, my hands trembling and a pain in my chest.
I was terrified the car would roll over.
We got out, circled and inspected the predicament. Somehow we managed to unhook the trailer.
It's moments like these I hate living in the bush - facing harsh realities with no-one around to help.
You have to rely on your own ingenuity - ingenuity I feel lacking.
I had to dig deep.
I faced my worst fear - the car rolling over with me in it.
When I climbed back in, I wound up the window to provide some meagre protection.
I couldn't say I was calm; I clenched my teeth.
We tried again from a different angle.
I worked to keep the wheels turned in the right direction, my heart in my mouth.
Success.
Now no longer weighed down by the trailer, the dozer was able to gently drag the car to firmer ground.
Phew.
I was exhausted.
It was a relief to get home to a glass of wine … or three.
