Sunday 3 November 2019

Acting on my inner discomfort: A night on the Bibbulmun track


For some time I had been hoping to have a ‘men and boys’ weekend out bush as an opportunity to role model for teenage boys in particular. This turned into a ‘men and kids’ (boys and girls) then ‘adults and kids’ with my friends Andrew and Jen and their two kids John and Chiara, while I took David (11) and Dillon (14) (originally from Lombok). David is addicted to his phone while Dillon has an anxiety issue – both good kids and perfect for my taking out bush ambition. Neither had spent time in the Australian bush but were keen to come with me.

I’ve spent many nights out on the Bibbulmun track (a walking track from Perth to Albany), mostly solo or with a friend or two. This one was different in many ways – firstly there were seven of us and it didn’t involve much walking as we parked off the Brookton Hwy and walked less than 3km to the Brookton campsite, a new rammed earth hut built after the fire three years earlier. Dillon asked on the way if there were snakes, to which I said that I hadn’t seen any on the track up this way which I thought would alleviate his fears. Of course I was proven wrong as within the first hour Dillon almost stepped on a snake! I had been trailing at the back of the group and only caught a glimpse and while he thought it was a tiger snake I thought it more likely a dugite. Luckily he escaped unharmed and didn’t seem too affected.

We arrived at the hut to find an older fella, Sean by himself and my first instinct was poor fella as our noisy group set up house around him. He looked pale and gaunt and quite reclusive and I gave him space and focussed on setting up and getting dinner and the fire ready. An hour after our intrusion another guy turned up out of the blue and said his mates were just behind him – how many mates were there? Another five! To my disappointment, he had driven to the hut, though he had a bad leg so I tried to overlook my judgemental moral high ground position. They did break open the beers a bit later and celebrated their gourmet meal of quails and other very non-Bibb track fare. Meanwhile Sean kept to himself in the corner and was in his sleeping bag even before darkness set in. We were an odd assembly in the Brookton Hut that night.

Of course the kids loved the fire and playing spotlight and roasting marshmallows. I was happy they were fully engaged in the experience and getting along with each other. The boys hadn’t even known what a banksia was and I had to remind myself of such a new and raw experience they were having. At my level I had inspected the rammed earth hut and marvelled at the variations in regrowth after the fire. Many trees and grass trees hadn’t survived - a testament to the ferocity of the fire.

Despite the noisy conversations going on after midnight outside, we slept quite well. By sunrise I was awake and enjoyed a 6am stroll to greet the morning. Then it was the busyness of breakfast preparations while the kids reignited the fire. Dillon slept in until I rustled him up before 8am conscious that we had to be on our way before 9am to meet other appointments for the day. The flies responded quickly as the heat of the day (max 36C) set in. The other group were up and out early.

Meanwhile Sean was still camped in the corner. I wondered if he was waiting until we vacated to become a bit more active. Over the years I’ve met so many hardened old fellas on the track and had put him into that tough generation category with not much to say. He had walked into the hut after all and had well worn leather boots. When I asked how he was feeling he said fine, though his pale appearance indicated otherwise and he was a bit more vague with his responses than the previous day. We offered toast and he accepted and I wondered if he had much food at all. I ensured his cup and water bottle were filled. Otherwise I was focussed on packing up camp, encouraging the boys to get ready, and trying to squeeze four sleeping mats and three sleeping bags into my backpack for the trip back.

After dousing the fire, saying farewell and leaving the camp clean, we set off. As I walked away I felt discomfort to leave this sickly looking older man by himself. What was his story? Was he suffering from a terminal illness? Had he come out to die? Though he had said he’d only been there a few days, was this really true and was he really going to leave the next day? I started sharing with Jen. The kids were also wondering about him and Dillon had discovered his wife had passed away. I had the horrible thought of him dying out here and a group with kids coming across him perhaps a few days later. After a few minutes of ongoing discomfort I felt called to act. I ditched my pack announcing that I was going back. I ran with growing conviction though not really knowing the best approach to the situation.

He was still lying in his sleeping bag and it didn’t take long for my questions to confirm my suspicions that he was very unwell. He was disorientated, quite unresponsive to my questions even though I was being as cheery and non-invasive as I could be in an otherwise awkward conversation setting. He’d said that he had no food. The flies had established themselves all over his face and he wasn’t bothering to chase them off even when they went over his eyes. He had a car but he didn’t have keys, they were in the unlocked car apparently. I eventually got him to agree that if I got his car back to the hut that I could take him home, wherever that was. I returned to the group and we established a plan, Jen would take the kids to Kwinana while Andrew and I would drive my corolla back to the hut if we couldn’t  get his car. The kids were appreciative, Dillon even commented ‘you are a good man Uncle Joe’.

He didn’t have his car there so the Corolla ventured up the authorised zone only track. I slowly and carefully guided my city car back to the hut. Andrew and I went over options including the scenario of him refusing to come with us and resisted attempts. As it turned out he didn’t have that much energy. Fortunately Andrew was with me as he wasn’t even able to walk. It took us a solid 5 minutes to manoeuvre him to the car. At times he convulsed and locked his legs and I wondered if he was in fact close to death. He had no ID, and his pack was light though he’d had a few crackers and some cheese left.
Upon reflection, my experience of living with Anne’s dad Vince served me well as I’d had experience of dressing and manoeuvring an older man, plus a way of conversing in a non-threatening manner. Andrew shared his training in pastoral care so I think we made a good pair.

We took him to emergency at Armadale Hospital. The young doctor firstly asked why we hadn’t called for an ambulance which surprised me – an ambulance would not have even found him and it would have taken hours. Not having any ID was an issue but I had found his box of codeine which had came with a prescription. They were able to find him on their system, complete with a home address and next-of-kin details and he had even been there just four weeks before. We were able to leave him to be admitted in a wheelchair, satisfied to know he would be looked after. We returned to Kwinana to further debrief.

Several days later I phoned Armadale hospital. At first they couldn’t find a record of him and while they said they weren’t allowed to divulge information, I was able to glean sufficient details to track him to Charles Gairdner hospital. They let me know he was in intensive care but stable. No, he would not have survived out there and quite possibly he would have been found by an unfortunate walker in a bad state. His future may not be that secure but at least he has a chance and his family can at least be with him.

Our one night on the track was quite eventful! I hadn’t expected it to turn out that way but I certainly achieved my aim of role modelling to young teenage boys. My inner voice of discomfort was a good teacher and I’m glad I acted on my conviction when others would probably have walked away.

 
 

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