We managed to get to Broome without any more seat warming incidents, which was a bit of a relief actually because by the time we pulled into the big smoke town that many of you would not consider big, it was a barmy forty four degrees. For those people who still use that antiquated measuring system that doesn’t make sense that’s a nice and cosy hundred and twelve degrees, or for those working in kelvin it three hundred and seventeen.
Arriving at a smidgen after 1pm meant we were arriving in pretty much the hottest part of the day, but to make things even more enjoyable there was a wind coming from the north that was probably pushing somewhere between gale force and cyclonic. Again for those people not in the know a north wind in Australia is a hot wind, in southern parts of the country the north wind comes off the interior of the country, the wide, brown, hot land that seems to be romanticised in so many Australian stories. In the northern part of Western Australia all the bloody winds were hot, with the exception of the odd sea breeze that comes in, but even then it’s not cold like many places face because it still only drops the chill factor down to short pants and short sleeves type of cool.
I wont again embarrass those not able to convert silly speeds to real speeds but I will say this the speed of that warm wind was pushing the sort of strength that can blow your skirt up around your mid-drift without any warning. Although I do say that having not worn a skirt since I was about five years old when Mum stopped dressing me.
Oh bugger it, I’ll start again. When we got to Broome it was bloody hot and bloody windy. How about that?
Our first stop in Broome was to get something to eat. Matthew had been in contact with the mechanics workshop that had his car and they wanted an extra hour or so to finish things off and make sure things were working properly. Changing out the computer didn’t really need too much road testing and the actual job is quite easy for a decent mechanic, even some backyard mechanics, but like the wait for the unit to arrive in Australia was long and drawn out the mechanics efforts were a bit the same just to make sure everything was okay.
So off we went to one of the local cafes down near the water. Because of the wind it wasn’t the most comfortable place but there was plenty of room and in between the stronger gusts it was quite pleasant. Now as you might remember I’m not a big drinker, and I don’t drink and drive but a couple of beers over lunch was not a problem and even though we had ourselves a long drive to get home it was unanimously decided that a few coldies over dinner would help our relaxed day.
I couldn’t get myself a Dean Special Parma in Broome, because I’m special but not that special apparently, so instead I decided to partake in something that was few and far between in a place like Halls, and that was the Fisherman’s basket. Well not actually the Fisherman’s basket that would taste terrible, just seafood and chips in a basket with a side salad. I wont name each piece of seafood that was in the basket because I’m pretty sure some of the things are known under strange names in other parts of the world and there has been enough embarrassment with the silly speed and temperature scales. But suffice to say there is eight different pieces of seafood covered in a beer batter and presented in a basket. All the seafood is locally sourced in Broome and taste great, better than anywhere else in the world I believe. It’s the sort of thing I’d consider taking home, but having to freeze it and then thaw it out effects the taste and freshness so we just kind of accept that fish is a treat when we come to the big smoke, not a regular dinner item.
Sitting there looking out to the water as we chatted and ate it was kind of like my connection with the weather gods had worked and my thoughts were heeded because the wind did drop down. It was still blowing a little bit but the gusts died down a bit and we didn’t have to nail our plates to the table just to stop the wind moving them.
There wasn’t a great deal of activity on the water, a few boats moved around but it definitely wasn’t the hustle and bustle of a holiday time where every man and his dog has a boat on the water. Still the lack of activity helped with the relaxation of the whole thing. I guess if I was a normal person who liked the big smoke I’d have been sitting there wishing for the relaxation to never stop. But alas that’s not me and the time it took to eat lunch was more than enough for me to start feeling nostalgic for my little house in the middle of nowhere.
Lunch was enjoyable, the few beers relaxing and the conversation entertaining enough for me not to get bored. After the waiter delivered our bill, we don’t call it a check like American’s seem to but like I say there has been enough embarrassment already I wont rubbish them on checks too, then returned to his till with Matthew’s money we both decided to vacate and make our way to get Matthew’s ride.
We both pushed ourselves up at the same time and as we rose there was a voice, a rather loud voice, from out of the esplanade. It was a loud wolf whistle, followed by the words.
“Hey nice arse, how about shaking it for us?”
Previous Outback Rescue story here.