Mutooroo and Home
Only a matter of kilometres over the State border, we swung a left hand turn off the Barrier Highway and hit the dirt road into Mutooroo Station. An incredibly flat, seemingly featureless landscape stretched on for kilometres. Though to use the term featureless is perhaps unfair. As we drove back out three days later, my untrained eye had learned to pick up on the nuances of the country; gentle undulations, changes in soil colour, concentrations of different plant species, stands of tenacious bedraggled trees.
James Morgan hit the nail on the head when he described the appearance of the homestead in his book The Premier and the Pastoralist; "suddenly, an actual place in the middle of nowhere". It genuinely appeared like an oasis in the empty expanse. The homestead, with it’s numerous buildings, happened to be a busy place when we timed our visit. With crutching and lamb marking taking place, there were plenty of vehicles buzzing about. Although actual people remained relatively out of sight.
We felt very lucky to be invited to stay at the family farm of my good friend Adelaide and to enjoy the comfort of the Director’s House (the original 1882 homestead). Ad had told stories of Mutooroo since we were kids, so I was excited to experience it for myself.
We were sharing quarters with an unsuspecting young plumber, Jack, who was there for work. The kids immediately awarded Jack hero status and keenly awaited his appearance at the start and end of each day.
The initial feeling of walking into a dwelling that had been left to the dust and trials of time didn't take long to dissipate. After opening the same doors a few times to build a mental floorplan and to pick two of the many rooms to call our own, the old stone building quickly felt comfortable. Even more so when we got a fire roaring in the sitting room.
We had a fabulous three night stay, easily filling our time pottering in the creek by the house, exploring the machinery shed, the shearing shed and the treasure trove that was the dump. We were fortunate to witness the spectacle of the rams being shorn and we tackled the delicate subject with the kids of what destiny awaited the three wethers penned out in the "butcher’s paddock".
We explored further afield, trying to find our way out to Black Fellas Dam. I’m not entirely sure if we made it to our proposed destination but we discovered great relics along the way and Hugh got an introduction to driving. He was most impressed with the Touareg’s voice activated acceleration and breaking feature.
The drive from Mutooroo to Adelaide could have been done in a day, but it would have been an exceptionally long one, bigger than anything we’d achieved on our trip. Plus, it was a nice opportunity to savour one last night in the wilderness together.
Our final camp, after many many months on the road, was Dawson George Bush Camp, an unofficial spot on a dirt road just before the quarantine station at Oodla Wirra. We had the pretty, unassuming spot all to ourselves and we marked the occasion by cooking potatoes in the coals of fire - ironically a first for the trip.
We passed through the fruit fly quarantine station without inspection and had a brief stop in Burra, long enough to find James Waite's grave, whose history I'd been reading about at Mutooroo. Rain and freezing cold discouraged us from staying any longer.
The final push home was borne with back to back audio episodes of Spirit and Friends. By the time we pulled into Church Tce I’m not sure any of us could stomach another of Spirit and Lucky’s adventures.
The reunions with Nanny and Joddy were sweet closure on an incredible 21 months of touring. The kids and I were very excited to be home. I don't want to speak for Matthias but I think he could have continued travelling, at least until the weather in Adelaide warmed up. We have exciting new chapters to embark on; moving into a new house, selling an old one, a new job for me, kindy for Hugh and occasional care for Claire. I'm intrigued to see how we will adapt to our new, more static lifestyle; whether we'll soon crave the great outdoors again or whether the comforts of a house, extended family and a familiar routine will keep the wanderlust at bay. Hopefully, our time shared as a family, travelling our wide and wonderful country, will go on to shine as a foundational chapter in the kid's young lives, as it certainly stands as a highlight in mine.
