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Destination home - read the blog here

Image: Destination home - read the blog here

from Belinda Jeffrey, 07.06.09

 

So it has now come to this. The end of the trip. Greg and I are sitting in the newly established Coffee Club (five days new, thank you very much) at Mt Isa. The place is “jumping”. Flat out. I don't know whether they knew the Q150 was hitting town the same week as it opened but, between the locals who are seemingly loving the new place, and the tourists who find it comfortingly familiar, the staff are run off their feet. There's a sign in the window – STAFF WANTED

But I'm digressing. Trying to prolong the inevitable, that all good things have to come to an end.

I've had a fantastic time this week. It's hard to put into words how enjoyable it's been to meet two other writers – and Prue and Odette – with whom I'd gladly spend another week. In a heart-beat (though somewhere down the track – possibly the Towoomba track - as I'm missing my family today.)

We've been reminiscing about our adventures today. Trying to remember which hotel/motel it was we stayed in Hughenden – no, that was the mayor's house. We've been called Brisbane yuppies – in more than one town – we've been sworn at by taxi drivers – ok that was just one taxi driver in one town – and we've danced the merenge. Well, Greg and I have danced the merenge. Matt has looked on.

I've personally had the benefit of talking with two wise and knowledgeable authors in the first week of being an official author. Thankful is an inadequate word. And then there's been the laughter. And, yes, the wine ( and lychee cruisers). I've laughed so hard I've pulled muscles in my rib cage – thank God our Margaret from the Spinafex Hotel in Mt Isa had a wheat heat to spare yesterday – and we've teared up over the letter from Hannah thanking us for the author event in Cloncurry. I'll even miss Christine – it's my train! - she's really a darling.

And to all the volunteer conductors who have shared their passion for trains and people, for all our fellow travellers and for everyone who turned out to welcome and wave us off on platforms – and perhaps most especially to the men with the espresso machine at Cloncurry - you've made our week.

I'll perhaps never again be asked for a 'half a yard of toilet paper', or be entertained by a vaudvillian volunteer conductor with more one liners than a long stretch of highway. I don't think I'll ever be photographed – sleeping, stretched out on a train seat - “Oh, I think she's one of the authors. I'm going to take her photograph.” And being too tired to open my eyes. Care. Smile or check for drool on my travel pillow. I can't imagine two better authors to have had the privilege to travel with. What are the chances of sitting next to the very same person the moment I read my first book review in the paper, only to find that his book is reviewed next to mine?Yep. I'm a happy girl. Ta muchly. Coming back to Brisbane with lead dust and train soot in my hair, books in my mind and the earth under my feet.

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