Aussie Sunset by Margaret Dornaus

 

Here’s another excerpt from my new travel memoir, House of Thorns.  Hope you like it!–Margaret                

                

by Margaret Dornaus

 

After a week on the Outback road, we land in the thriving metropolis of Broken Hill—the Santa Fe of New South Wales.  A sanctuary for 23,000-plus culture-loving souls, Broken Hill is teeming with galleries displaying canvases that capture the sunburnt colors of the landscape.  A landscape enhanced by the jeweled setting of monolithic mountaintop sculptures backdropped against the brilliant rising and setting sun that ignites the Outback sky.               

There is even food beyond the bush tucker experience of roasted, poached or grilled kangaroo.  But best of all, Broken Hill is where we trade in the serviceable Steve and his gargantuan off-road vehicle for hipper, sleeker 4×4 SUV’s driven by hipper, sleeker guides—a quartet of lovers who infuse our bedraggled, road-weary group with new life and remind us that, at least down under, the mating season is about to burst into full-blooming spring.               

Mick & Joanne & Lisa & Steve Jump for Joy by Margaret Dornaus

 

Individually, Mick & Joanne & Lisa & Steve (a younger version of our earlier driver) is each as fine a specimen as the Outback could produce.  They’re energetic.  They’re healthy.  They’re easy to look at.  But, collectively, they’re a powder keg of raw sexuality.  It’s something they make no attempt to hide.  They couldn’t even if they wanted to.  For Mick & Joanne—and Lisa & Steve—are in love.  And we feel their passion for each other palpably, with a vicarious itch that leaves our already virus-stressed throats raspier and an octave lower when we speak.               

“I like traveling this way much better,” one woman pipes as soon as we hook up with our new leaders.  Strictly speaking, she is talking about nothing more than our mode of transit.  Comparing the virtues of off-road travel in several more compact and better shock-absorbing vehicles with the singularly massive coach we’ve heretofore withstood.  But the extra chirp to her voice reveals something further—a certain je ne sais quoi that will infect each and every one of our little band of travelers.  Some more than others.               

“We’re in good hands now,” my friend Andy coos after our first full day out with the Outback lovers.  “I can feel it.”  Andy’s round face is glowing with the inner zing of a sated Buddha.  “Can’t you?”  The Menindee moon backlights what remains of Andy’s hair, giving an oddly electrified cast to his normally ruddy complexion.               

Sheepherding, Aussie Style by Margaret Dornaus

 

I have to agree that the day’s had more verve to it than some of our others.  Even the woolshed walk was charged with excitement.  “Remember the reed warbler we heard today?” I ask without apologizing for my apparent non sequitur.  Andy’s exasperation with me shows in the tight, pursed-lip expression he gets when you start to step on his story.  “Geoff said when they breed, you can’t hear yourself think,” I add before Andy’s annoyance can intimidate me into silence.               

At the mention of breeding, Andy unclenches his mouth.  An audible breath escapes from his lips as he exhales.  “Honey, I have a feeling that before this is all over none of us will be able to hear ourselves think,” he replies before pecking me on the cheek and turning in for the night.               

It is not difficult to travel with strangers once you get into the rhythm.  Especially if that rhythm has a chance to fine tune itself.  To allow for the flashiness of the snare drum.  The boldness of the kettle drum.  The pertness of the triangle.  But add a pair of cymbals to the mix and it’s easy to upset the balance.  Add two pairs of cymbals . . .               

“I saw Mick kissing Joanne,” Andy whispers to me.  “Did you see him?”  

I nod without speaking.  My throat is dry.  It scratches and burns.           

©Copyright Margaret Dornaus, 2010