Road Trip to Darwin — Resetting My Soul
I was getting ready to head off on my annual trip to the USA when life suddenly changed direction.
My father-in-law, Reno, took a turn for the worse. I cancelled my trip immediately and, sadly, Reno passed away about a week later after spending some time in hospital.
Grief hits us all differently. There is no right or wrong way to deal with it, and I think we all find our own way of trying to make sense of what has happened.
For me, it was a particularly difficult time.
I had already lost my eldest son, Bill, and now I had lost Reno, my father-in-law who had lived right beside us here in Queensland. Two significant losses, one following the other, left me needing to get away for a while.
After a few days I realised I couldn't simply sit around and wait for things to get better. I needed some time away. I needed to clear my head.
So, instead of getting on an aeroplane and heading overseas, I jumped in the vehicle and decided to drive to Darwin.
I've done the trip many times, so I know the route well. There is something comforting about travelling roads you know. You don't have to think too much about where you're going. You can simply drive.
My first night was at Mitchell, where I took advantage of the spa pool. The following night was Tambo, which meant the famous Chicken Races — always good for a laugh.
From there it was on to Kyuna, then across into the Northern Territory, with an overnight stop at the Barkly Homestead.
Next was Daly Waters, where I stayed for two nights, followed by Batchelor for another couple of nights before finally arriving at Howard Springs Big 4 Holiday Park.
The kilometres don't really matter when you're on a trip like this.
Sometimes it's just about putting one foot in front of the other — or, in my case, one wheel in front of the other.
The Geese That Weren't There
Of course, I couldn't head north without taking a couple of guns along.
I brought my Miroku shotgun, along with my Mauser .458 Lott. The shotgun was there in case the geese were about, and the .458 was along for dangerous game should the opportunity somehow arise.
From everything I'd been hearing, the geese were supposed to be in good numbers.
Well... there's always a catch.
My first mistake was believing everything I saw on social media.
I've been around long enough to know that social media posts should sometimes be taken with a grain of salt, but apparently I needed another reminder.
When I got there, Harrison's Dam had a hole in the wall.
No water.
And, as most hunters will understand, no water generally means no geese.
Mmm.
That was one mistake I just had to suck up and move on from.
There was no point getting worked up about it. Hunting doesn't always go to plan. Sometimes the animals aren't there. Sometimes the weather doesn't play the game. Sometimes the information you received was six months old, and sometimes social media makes things look a whole lot better than they really are.
That's hunting.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realised something.
This trip was never really about the shooting.
Sometimes You Just Need to Get Away
I needed to reset my soul.
After losing Bill, and then Reno, I wasn't looking for some great hunting adventure. I was looking for some space.
Space to think.
Space to remember.
Space to just be.
I did catch up with a couple of good friends while I was in Darwin, and I really enjoyed their company. Sometimes sitting around having a beer, talking rubbish and laughing about old stories is better medicine than anything you can buy.
I'm spending a few days here before starting the journey south and then heading towards Cairns.
From there I'll make my way down the east coast before meeting up with my family at Airlie Beach. We'll spend some time exploring that wonderful part of Queensland together.
And somewhere along the way, my son Billy is travelling with me.
His ashes are with me on this journey.
That is probably the hardest part of the trip to put into words.
There are moments when I look across at where he is travelling with me and it hits all over again.
I'm never going to be the same person I was before I lost my son.
I don't think anyone who loses a child can ever go back to being the person they were before.
But life goes on.
That's not always easy to accept, but it does.
And eventually, you have to get back on the horse, so to speak.
Maybe that's what this trip is really about.
Not the geese.
Not the .458.
Not how many kilometres I've travelled or how many places I've stopped.
It's about taking some time to breathe, think, remember the people I've lost and then keep moving forward.
The road has always been good to me.
Perhaps this time I needed the road a little more than usual.
So I'll keep driving.
I'll spend some time with my family.
I'll see a few more places.
I'll tell a few more stories.
And I'll carry Billy and Reno with me, just as I will for the rest of my life.
Sometimes you don't travel to find somewhere new.
Sometimes you travel because you need to find a little bit of yourself again.
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