April 1965

The trip to attend the closest international airport would always be an adventure. Chopper-ing, hitching a ride on the Royal Flying Docs plane, snatching a seat on the postal service plane or even driving over those miles of emotional roads.

Conveniently for me, a mustering helicopter, which we personally never used as it scared the stock, sat contracted for the season, at the neighbouring property...

I knew the pilot; he was one of many teens daddy took on in the previous dry seasons. He would teach and work them hard. Like life on the land. An internship of fire and brimstone, lots of heavy lifting and mucking in for greenhorns, pushing them to either break or make a go of it; A cattleman's life.

Jason not only interned for daddy....

He turned out to be my second piece of entertainment.

Nothing like the other lads that came through, Jas, as we called him, was blonde-haired, blue eyes and so sweet on the eye I swore if I kissed him he would taste like sugar sweets and candy bars. Upon testing the goods, he tasted more like that funny weed stuff you smoke and beer but, oh boy, if Tommy was a trial sample box, this boy was an entire mail-order catalogue... Jam packed full of little surprises and loads of bang for my buck!

He couldn't cut the mustard unfortunately; he took off before the big wet season that year and I heard he married Clare Marsh the coppers daughter in Normanton... Good luck to him and his funny weed round the stern Sargent Marsh because he'd need it.

Sarg smelt us cooking prime rib fillet on the barbeque from four hours away so living in the same tiny town, down the main drag and round the corner, smoking that stuff, spelt disaster waiting to happen.

"Hey there Jas, thanks buckets for ferrying me to the big smoke, get yourself all fuelled up?" The huge tank of diesel sat on iron legs about 3 metres off the ground. The diesel then got turned on and off like a tap, a hose the circumference of your arm allowing the fuel to gravity feed to where it was needed, like at the fancy servos in town. No driveway service here though, nor any creamy milkshakes and burgers to be purchased.

"Rosy, how ya been doin' darlin'" Jas rounded the chopper and I swear on Melvins left nut, the lad had put on thirty plus ten pounds. Chopper piloting must be a little more laid back and docile than riding horses and working cattle yards all day. Maybe there was an armchair instead of a seat in the glorified slingshot. Nah, only a slab of leather all cracked and showin' the stuffing like an over packed roast turkey.

"Don't go calling me that, you derro"

We hugged like weirdos. Like you do when an old relative wants to kiss ya cheek and you want no part of it. We were done, him and I. I wasn't going back near mail order catalogues this side of never.

"Aww come on, you're still all English Rose under those smattering of freckles and leathery tan"

"Such a charmer- you fuel up or not?"

"Done. Got a few beers out of the drink fridge in the shed too. We have to toast your mighty trip" Jas knew I was going but why, how long or where to, he did not have the particulars. And I really wanted to keep it that way but people living in small communities, even remote community's quarter the size of Queensland, talked. People get bored. They gossip 'bout whose cows fetched the most at the sale yards or who's missus won the regional CWA cake competition. Daddy mostly listened to the chitchat, mummy oohed and aahed and asked for recipes.

The family of kookaburras that visited the homestead and yards every arvo skimmed over the driveway, swooped higher to miss the house yard fence and settled on the Hills Hoist ready for any leftover grub tossed from the porch. Mince-meat, a kookaburra family favourite. I regularly enjoyed sitting a line of small pieces along the rail for them to come collect. Leaning against the side of the house, as far back as possible, I would watch their beady eyes eye me off and take in the surrounds for predators, namely Polka Dot the semi-feral cat. All the while keeping close watch on the delicacy of the day. Their long beaks were pointy and look sharp; I would not like to be a random snake when a kookaburra was hunting for his or her dinner.

Today's farewell laughter started as I watched the mother kooka preen her feathers. Mister Kookaburra perched on the centre pole, high above the rest and began rattling off the first of many rounds of his loud 'coocoo kak-a coocoo kak-a' laugh.

The kookaburra's distinctive sound demands your attention, whether on the clothesline, on the porch railing or high in a gum tree. You just have to have a look see for the bird that makes such boisterous noise.

"You weren't going to up and leave in that contraption and not say goodbye first, was you Terri girl?" I started, not realising I zoned out; Off I was with the fairies watching another piece of Australia that I wouldn't spy in a while. Spinning about I caught the tail end of Melvin slowing from his lumbering trot to a more sedate, ever limping amble...

Like all this hoo-ha about me leaving via air didn't mean all that much. Like I was popping out for milk or some such rubbish... I've never popped anywhere for anything to come to think of it. At a tad over 6,000 square miles, properties such as ours, don't give you have the ability to 'pop' anywhere. Mel in his own way was, as always, being brave for me. I thanked him silently.

"You know I wouldn't shoot through like that. We might have stood toe to toe over some doozies of arguments these past few months but you're still my favourite person in this state"

"Hey!" Jas pouted then stunned me with a Murray River-wide smile as he climbed into the open cab of the chopper. Nope- no doors, no nothing.

"Jas you stopped being a potential runner in the favourites department when you took off like a brown snake was gonna bite ya ars-"

"Anyway..." Melvin crashed into my sentence and walked in front of my view of Jas to hug me pretty darn tight "Every avenue we can apply for has been submitted, waiting game at the moment. Ya still got that telephone number and address of the legal mob Brazier wants to mail letters to in London tucked somewhere safe..." I nodded and Mel carried on "We'll get you out of this mess and have you running the place again as soon as possible pet"

"You know it's mighty improvable Mel... you don't get anywhere these days when the damn government sets their sights on something. That fat-cat political representative is after this property for himself. Hate to admit it but you need to go on back to your sister's place in Beauy."

"What's a Beauy?" Jas cut in over my shoulder.

"Beaudesert dummy, down near the Queensland- New South Wales border" I told Jas the location as I squeezed Mel's forearm. I tried to convey all our unsaid emotions through the touch. I wanted to be positive and brave too but the odds of a good outcome didn't stacked in my, or should I say our, favour. Mel belonged, as much as I did, to this land, moreso seeing as he is quite a bit older.

Melvin frowned at the thought of heading back to his sisters. He came away from the border region years ago because he and his sisters fought like cats and dogs.

"You'll be right Melv'. Get that tricky hip of yours looked at by the hip doc in Brissy" It had played up something shocking lately and sending him back to Beaudesert, with its colder winters, didn't help matters "I'll send you a letter or two to both here and there, just in case. You look after my horse's won't you? Don't let the doggers get 'em"

"I'll keep 'em safe but I won't be plaiting no darn tail hair on them" Melvin cracked a rare grin, him and I never saw eye to eye over my hobby of pretty-ing up the ponies.

"I never doubted you would"

Jas adjusted a few dials and pressed the ignition switch, the engine turned over with a grunt for good measure. The flimsy looking whirlybird groaned and raced toward a scream then settled into a monotonous high pitch rev. The whirl and whine at my back intensified my panic over leaving... This, right now, could be the very last time I lay eyes on the homestead and the rustic beauty of the surrounding hodge podge of sheds and yards. I stopped right then and there. Those sad thoughts sent me hurtling towards bawling my damn eyes out and I didn't want, nor need, the tears.

Melvin didn't need to see all the cracks and splinters any more than he witnessed in these past few months. I knew what weighed on his mind without a word uttered. A kindred spirit, Mel was burning with the same love for this property, and it might slip away from us. Coupled with knowing the journey and future meetings with my English family, dropped heavy in my thoughts. He worried I would lose myself, if I didn't have 'home' at my back.

The essence of who I am, because the muted green of the bush that surrounds me equals what is stored in my soul.

I wanted him to see that I could cope. That I was a big girl, going out into a big world with my eyes forward, my chin up and heart strong. Brave for the future, sure of myself. At times, like here stood in front of Melvin, and in the future, I'm sure I will have days, perhaps weeks, where I will plaster those positive feelings on my façade, create a mask to cover the real me that isn't coping so well... like one of those actors you see in the movies.

All those fancy movie stars playing at something they weren't... to pass it off as real.

A mask to carry me when I'm a little lost or feeling like I'm sinking in despair.

Nothing could stop the propulsion of my life now. This step, beyond hard, beyond anything I have ever experienced but I have to take it. Journeying across the world, meeting family I have known forever but never set eyes on plus battling for my home through lawyers and paperwork, sure as eggs it will have me vexed and insecure and unsettled. I need to remember the adventure right along with the worry dogging my tail. Maybe try to up the adventure side to make all the other stuff surrender for a time, so I can exist. So I can be happy.

We have hundreds of clicks to cover and need to be back on the ground before dark. The whine of cogs, rotors and engine rose as Jas wound the machine up a notch, the blades spun like a windmill on a cyclone day and began pressing and swirling dirt and dust every which way. Whipping in a frenzy, sending it spitting all about Mel and I. It hit like a prize fighter too. Hard and stinging.

This is it- I'm leaving.

"I love you" I said super loud, trying to raise my voice above the noisy chopper.

"What pet?" Melvin cupped his ear, the high-pitched whine of the helicopter, lost our voices to the wind.

"I love you" I repeated.

I loved him so much. So, so much. He was my rock through all this strife and he had to know I loved him to bits. His face remained blank, my voice useless in the face of all the noise.

Nothing else to do, my boots crunched on bull dust and gravel. I launched at him full pelt. Lips on his cheek, then loud words saying 'I love you' in his ear, hands cinched tight, circling his big frame. In a heartbeat, I broke away, crouched low to miss the flub-flub beating of the blades and jumped in the chopper seat. Jas buckled me in, tightened the harness, a headset thingo appeared, earpieces pressed into my hand I slipped them on, so we could talk. He spun in the seat, adjusting the revs and then... we were away.

Lifting, lurching a little to the left, dipping forward then levelling out as he eased us up and away.

Melvin stood stock still below us. His face upturned to the clear skies I somehow hovered in! I leaned out as far as possible to see him and then carried my eyes beyond, to the splendid vision of my home. Casting a sad eye over the horses grazing. I felt my eyes sting with tears so I did what any self-respecting sheila would do and dragged them off the ponies and took in the clogged overfull yards and pens instead. Stood strong in the elements they teemed with cattle waiting for the drover to arrive to start that epic walk hundreds of miles along the famous Long Paddock toward the sale yards.

Old Melvin raised his hand, the other lay shading his eyes, stopping the sun from piercing the view of the chopper rising skyward. My own hand shook as I saluted, then waved at him in return...then we were banking  northward, the chopper cutting ever higher into the pristine azure; taking me further and further away from everything I know.

Lucky for me Jason took the pretty route... And, without question or press for information, he made damn sure I got to see all the places I would miss.

A fast flying mob of a hundred or more roo's burst from the mulga scattering left and right as the chopper dipped and dived low in the air above them. I clung to the edge of the door frame and gleaned every nuance of the scene. Joeys secured in mothers' pouches, big red males towering six foot strong, all bounding along on coil-like spring loaded hind legs, leaping over the metres each and every stride.

So marvellous.

Did I really just think that?

Roo's, all my life, have been part of the vermin to rid from the land. Not something regarded as marvellous...

Yet here I sit, craning my neck to catch the last glimpse of a big mob as they bound on to find sanctuary in the bush off to the west of the long plain. My rambling thoughts have me musing over the animal's unique qualities and addled bemusement makes me shake my head. As I watch one of the last mobs I will see for a while, I realise, even though they can ruin the land when they overpopulate, they are truly beautiful and unique creatures.

We head further north and I realise Jas has us low; low and ready to enter the mouth of the widest gorge on the property, the craggy outcrops soar and cut equally through this wide brown land. With cliffs towering either side, fifty, one hundred, one hundred and fifty metres plus. It all shades the valley of hidden gems beneath. Ochre, blonde and caramel slides and shifts as the tides of times' sediment changes it hue. Up and down, swells of multi-coloured browns make for an ever-changing natural artwork of the cliff face.

Fishing holes deep and crystal clear, hidden like jewels in pretty pockets of rainforest. Rainforest that somehow survive the ravages of indecently hot summers that burns everything to within a crisp around it.

Noisy black cockatoos would roost in a small bank of eucalyptus trees tucked hidden behind a clutch of wattle which, when the wind blew, scattered canary yellow pom-pom like blooms all over the valley floor. Dusting the ground like what I imagine snow to do.

Wattle that smelt so gorgeous, you would be imagining the smell days later on every breeze. The sweet scent lingering on your clothes if you were so lucky.

Wattle that had you wanting to return to bask in the pretty yellow puffs of marshmallowy soft flowers for all eternity.

Last week I rode out on my favourite mare in the whole wide world. Leading my second fav on a longline rope so she followed behind. They cantered and loped along, taking me with sure footed stride to the gorges' blissful serenity. I made camp, and as they grazed on a patch of otherworldly green, I walked where the gorge narrows.

Slipping through, between two ledges, I found the first waterfall dribbling, not much more than a trickle... I took in everything, rediscovering.

Memorising, my daddy's and my, secret garden.

Our place.

Our place where he took no one but mum and me. In the past, when I was a kid, she came regularly but as I grew and became a better rider she didn't come out all that often, so it soon became dad's and my place to go. A place we shared and had special times together. With tropical palms and vines, this secret spot was so cool on a blazing hot day that it seemed like our own touch of paradise.

A perfect circle of a billabong sat pride of place... Full slated rock on the bottom, clear as mum's wedding crystal was the water. I always carried a rifle for safety and the water then well searched with keen eyes and a good sniffing out by the dogs.

Penny and Frank, the kelpie twins out of Mango the mutt, stood guard and checked, with noses keen, for a crocs particular scent and marking at the water's edge.

I then sent the dogs to circle the area and rid the thicket, and rocky area, of snakes while I hoisted high on the ledge we used for jumping off to scan the drink for sneaky reptiles lurking beneath the water.

Swimming bare, lazing in the silky water I attempted to relax and think positive. So tired of being strong, yet scared of being weak. I was travelling to England no less. I always dreamt of going. A dream come true, wasn't it?...

But not like this. Not with my parents departed to heaven and the property under threat of government bureaucrats and local councillors alike.

I wanted my mum and dad, I wanted everything, to be the same as before. I wanted Jim and Mary together; I wanted brothers to annoy me and perhaps, when they got to know me, love me. I wanted it all. But I would never receive it. Mum, Dad and Mary were gone. I couldn't get them back.

So, every piece of this moment, tied excitement and torment together in equal measure.

I feared the upheavals, and guilt riddled me. Yes, so very guilty at myself I was, because the changes hurtling ever closer made my heart race and soar with promise and yes! Even excitement.

Ohhhh, the wonderful adventures that await! The family I am to meet! Two brothers to discover and teach me how to be a sibling! Golly, a precious biological father to hug! I needed to grasp the positives and push all else deep down.

Everything around me, about me, would never be the same.

The chopper buffered in the sudden crosswinds like a twig bouncing in the breeze.

I feel back into the here and now, high above the land I love. No longer swimming bare and gazing upon skies so clear. No, now we flew towards aeroplanes and oceans and unknowns as the light ebbed in the sky.

The sun turned to a slip of brilliant orange in the west, a compote of marmalade skies and lilac lacing the edge of the horizon. Darkness would soon flood and cool this sunburnt country and possums, bilby's, wombats, dingos plus a myriad of other nocturnal animals would pop out of their homes to feast and forage.

A flock of rainbow lorikeets streaked and squawked in the twilight below us, dashing with frantic, wild movements from tree to tree. Wings going at hundred miles an hour as they flashed from branch to branch, fighting and squabbling over the best roosting spot or snack they had found.

Jas nudged me from my daze.... and handed me the now warm beer.

Glossary:

Clicks - miles, kilometres... the distance to cover.

Crocs - Crocodiles 'saltys' (saltwater) crocs grow much bigger than alligators. They can grow to 5+ metres. Fresh water are a little smaller usually.

Mulga- is a widespread Australian native bush, suited to arid regions and found throughout inland Australia.

Doggers- a knackery, abattoir or slaughter house. The people that come to collect the animals are basically the 'doggers. IE. The horse is turned into dog meat, tinned dog food. Ugh, sorry!

CWA- Country Women's Association a network of women supporting and raising money for the plight and betterment of those on the land. They also keep alive many handmade crafts that are becoming rare in today's society.

Rainbow Lorikeets- The rainbow lorikeet is a medium-sized parrot, with the length ranging from 25 to 30 cm (10 to 12 in), including the tail. The weight varies from 75 to 157 g (2.6-5.5 oz). Very colourful and noisy bird.

Possum- Brush-tailed possums are about as big as domestic cats. have sharp claws, which they use to climb trees. The most often seen marsupial by city-dwellers, as it thrives in urban areas, as well as a wide range of natural and human-modified environments. Around peoples' homes, brush-tail possums are inventive and determined foragers with a liking for fruit trees, vegetable gardens, and kitchen raids. And are known to live in the roof given half the chance!

Bilby- Large rabbit like ears of the Greater Bilby (referred to as Bilby) have made it a popular Australian icon at Easter. We can sometimes get Easter chocolate bilbys instead of bunnys. They are very shy and very endangered animals unfortunately.

Main Drag- main street of a town.

Drover- the drover is a person that pushes the cattle from behind to move them (Like a cowboy) on a cattle drive. This is where cattle from a drought ridden farm, which has no feed, sends cattle on designate stock routes, called the Long Paddock, to eat from the verges... This can be thousands of kilometres in length sometimes ending at sale yards.

Big smoke- The city!

Murray River- Australia's longest river, at 2,508 kilometres (1,558 mi) in length.

Brissy- Brisbane, just up the main drag (haha). Capital of Queensland.

Queensland- My home state. Situated in the north-east of Australia. The state is the world's sixth-largest sub-national entity, with an area of 1,852,642 square kilometres (715,309 sq mi).

New South Wales or NSW- My birth state (I was born in Liverpool NSW!). Sits under Queensland on the map. It is where the first British penal settlements were founded for all you naughty Brits :)

Roos- Kangaroos!

Joeys- Baby Roos... see above!