Time for mustering again… Unfortunately we were lacking a key tool for this muster – the hand held radios. One had been missing since our last camping trip. We needed to move some stock that had been hiding during a previous muster. Though the spring season had just begun you could still feel the winter chill in the air, especially when at full speed on the bike (which isn’t that fast really).
We knew the lack of radio contact during the muster would be annoying but thought we could manage. Once in Terrica Hill (the paddocks all have names) we set off in different directions and agreed to meet at the dam with any stock we found. Many of our paddocks are as big as 3 or 4 city suburbs. I had, rather tentatively, agreed to check the hill. This was brave as Chris usually takes the difficult work. It was time to tackle the more challenging terrain if I’m ever going to pull my weight in this mustering farming game. Terrica Hill is quite steep and riddled with fallen timber and of course the inevitable stones and rocks that characterise trap rock country. Courageously, I set off to conquer that hill!
I found a few cows scattered grazing on the edge and pushed them along the ridge. The ridge followed the fence line to the gate into Sheehan’s paddock. This seemed an easier option than pushing them down the hill towards the dam. Well, the truth is, they decided to follow a cow trail and I felt brave enough to follow them and anyway, it was sort of in the right direction. As I pushed them along I could hear Chris beeping his horn along the flats below. We use the horns to get the stock moving. I felt a bit nervous because I knew I was getting further and further away from our agreed rendezvous point plus the cow trail was growing less and less traversable on the quad bike.
There was no easy way down that hill – at least that I was willing to tackle! So I decided to turn around and go back the way I had come to get down to help Chris. I was tearing along retracing my tracks when trouble struck! I was nearly thrown off the bike when it unexpectedly whacked into a stump and stopped in its tracks – stalled. The impact caused the right front wheel to “pop out” and point in a rather abnormal direction at right angles to the bike, a bit like a broken arm with a compound fracture. You find yourself in these predicaments from time-to-time in the bush – you get yourself into trouble and you have to learn to get yourself out. That is, if you don’t want to be seen as a … mere female. I am learning to be resourceful in a whole new context!
Though I tried and tried, I could not budge that wheel for love nor money! I tried with both hands. I tried to lift the front of the bike with one hand and pull on the wheel with the other. I tried lying on the ground and pushing the wheel with both legs bracing my butt against the rocks. It would not budge. Sigh. After numerous fierce, determined attempts, a very red face and a sore shoulder I had to admit it was just not going to happen.
The only option was to set off on foot to find Chris. It was steamy work scrambling down the hill trying to find the tracks. I finally found him not far from the gate on the opposite side of the paddock (about 2 kms). He was pretty mad, as usual, and grumbled such questions as “What have you done now?” and “Where is it?” I bit my tongue but did feel a bit worried that this was going to turn out to be one of those mere female episodes. He doubled me back to the injured bike.
Well, he pushed, pulled, swore and kicked at that wheel to try to get it back in place but he couldn’t do it. I have to admit secretly I was a bit pleased. Though I wouldn’t go so far as to say …mere male … he did need my help! Together on 1, 2, 3…we managed to pop it back into the right position. No mere female today! Yay!
But that is definitely the last time we go mustering with No Bloody Radio!!!