Hello Newman

We’d travelled the almost five thousand kilometers from Nebo, Queensland, to Newman, in West Oz in reasonable time. Certainly we hadn’t hurried but we’d wasted nothing either, only to be told there was to be no crane until the twentieth… It was only the seventh!

Discussion was had by those further up the food chain than we lowly drivers and the unload was brought forward by ten days then another two. We met at the assembly area the following morning to be guided onto the mine site only to find out the engineers couldn’t approve the lift and a bigger crane was needed… Back to waiting.

Over the subsequent few days we became regular faces around Newman and the Capricorn Roadhouse. I managed to procure a haircut and even a parking ticket for using three spaces and a bit in the car park. Carn’ guys, these things were designed for hatch backs, not Heavy Haulers. A tap on the door and a suggestion of where to park would have sufficed… I argued my point but to no avail I was trying to have a rational conversation with a public servant, I was trying to teach pigs to sing again!

After too many days spent consuming too many beers in Newman a larger crane was found and we repeated the exercise of a few days earlier, this time with a successful conclusion.

Two hours up the road to another mine to load an articulated dump truck, apparently known as a Moxie… I’m not sure why they call them that and I was even less sure of how to start it up but I figured it out and rolled it up onto the float. Chained down and ready to roll I headed out for Geraldton, another thousand kilometers away but I almost felt like I was starting to head home.