38 degrees Celsius (100.4 Fahrenheit) was close below the bearable, given this temperature is measured in the shadow and me fully wrapped in motorcycle cloths. My brain was preoccupied by one thought: Air-condition. Minutes after checking the accommodation list in the local tourist information, I was in front of an old building that fitted perfectly to my image of a house in the wild, wild outback. Just two blocks away, in the heart of Broken Hill, the wooden construction is dated back to 1888 (that is short after the town was founded) and formerly known as “The Pig and Whistle Pub”. Today it’s called Klingy’s Place, or “The Outback Pub With No Beer! What?”, because it’s a guest house and the Pub facilities decoration, only used by Wendy and Des, the owners, and their guests. Or the guest, as I was the only one at the moment. Yep, once again I’m completely between the seasons, too late for summer holidays, too early for the cooler winter months when the majority of tourists visit this area.

A couple of hundred kilometers south I started to realize that something is not as it is supposed to be. Driving through a green wilderness, I asked myself: “Where’s that bloody outback? Where is that vast dusty reddish nothing I know from pictures?” Aware that there won’t be a sign called “Welcome to the outback”, I drove for hours and hours, waiting for the picture in my memories and the picture processed from what my eyes send to the brain converge to a coherent one. But no, not this year. Once again there’s proof that a simple average statistics is closer to a lie than to truth in many cases. Precipitation in average is ridiculously low, even in wet season we are in now. But no, not this year. The opposite of an average statistics might be extreme value analysis. To make it short, the famous salt-lake Eyre’s water level is that high, last seen in 1974. Once I learned that, my slightly disappointment transformed to a feeling of being privileged. Yes, yes, happiness is a matter of perspective.

And I did learn much more in Broken Hill that made my stay enriching my life. There was this elderly man who started explaining me into detail how a mining shaft used to work when I stood in front of an exhibit in the towns central park. As it turned out, he was the shaft driver for many years before working underground for over two decades. Despite I couldn’t understand every word when he was talking rapidly in a strong Aussie accent, I didn’t interrupt him all the time because I didn’t want to stop him. His stories took me back in time, his words filled this dead construction of wood and metal with life. The peak in mining is over in Broken Hill. Over is also the man’s company lifetime guarantee for free dental treatment, as the dentist is not in Broken Hill anymore. As suddenly as he was standing next to me talking, as suddenly he went off for lunch. No free dental work for him anymore.

At one evening, dark clouds appeared in the sky, perfect for taking pictures I thought when I passed the train station. The combination of this powerful clouds and the intense strong charisma of the cargo trains caught my attention. It’s crazy, sometimes my memory leaks are that blatant, I can’t interpret simple stop signs anymore. This must have something to do with the temperature here. So I found myself very close to a cargo train composition, the engines of two linked locomotives in front of the wagons made a low but drumming noise. Then a guy walked towards me, I prepared to excuse and explain my presence at this part of the train station. But he just said: “train spotter?” Quickly I said: “Yes! Yes!” He smiled and entered the service facility. Meanwhile, the storm got pretty near in, heavy rain started to pouring down and lightning hit a pole maybe 50 meters away from me! That was the signal for me to take shelter under the roof of the service building as well. A minute later the guy from before came out with his mate. We chatted a bit about railway engines, like how far, how fast and so on. The same questions people used to ask me when they spot my foreign number plates on my motorcycle. Then they asked me what I secretly was hoping for: “Do you want to see the engine?” Sure my answer was YES! So they took me inside the locomotive and showed me everything. I took pictures as if I was completely mad but I pretended to be a train spotter so I had to act as one. And now the final: You could see and feel that the two guys felt very proud and strong to be admired by an unillumined rasta guy from overseas who never saw such a big train. They drove me for about 200 meters to the next junction. And this was really a great feeling for me, you know as when a childhood dream comes true, even if it’s for a very short time. 8000 horsepower pulling a load of over 3500 tons. Wow! When they drop me off and I opened the door of the locomotive, the rain passed further in the meantime and the evening sun drew a rainbow in the clouds in front of us. Perfect.

Des and I sipped a beer in the shady backyard of the house, listening to a soccer game at the radio, Gold Coast United FC defeated Adelaide United 3-2. Trooper, the overweight Schäfer protects the property thoroughly against non-existing threats. Chief, Troopers young but immense big fellow joins his leader. It always takes him a few seconds to react and he keeps always in a safe distance behind Trooper. But most of all, he likes to be caressed from us humans. So I think he follows Trooper not to ruin his reputation as a strong, male dog completely, but not out of compassion to defend their territory. As a puppy Chief once played with Percie, carry him around the lawn in his mouth. Ever since, Percie lives now on the roof of Klingy’s Place. Wendy takes a chair as she does every day the last three years, stands on it and puts Percies food on the tin roof until he stops complaining. Perfect.