Australia

Matt Kepnes gave up the rat race to forever explore, dream, and discovery. You can find his articles here and his daily musings at his own website, www.nomadicmatt.com

It was the third time the bus broke down. Somewhere right outside a small mining community in Western Australia, our bus had enough and it wanted us to know. With an explosion and puff of smoke, the bus came to a slow halt.

It was the end to a long journey that began back in Perth. I was on a backpacker bus heading up to Broome. On the outskirts of the city, during our first stop was when the problems began. The bus wouldn’t start. Our driver tried again, looked under the hood, did something, and said “ok, we’re ready to go.” But not that ready. The bus still didn’t go. We were going to have to push.

Down the hill we went and on the bus went. The bus  was moving, all was right in the world, and we wouldn’t have to go back to Perth. Our wise driver tried not to turn the buss off for fear of this happening again. It was a well founded fear because soon, at the Pinnacles, our bus turned off. Out we went again, pushing as hard as we could, getting our bus moving and grooving.

In Geraldton, our driver stopped to fix the bus  and, assured it was fixed, we continued on. I wasn’t sure what the problem was and, when he explained it in car lingo, my unmechanical ears couldn’t decipher what he was saying. I was just happy the bus was moving. I didn’t feel like going back to Perth.

Pretty soon our air conditioner stopped working and we were forced to drive in a sauna, the bus amplifying the 100 degree desert heat. This wasn’t what I had expected, though I dealt with it better than some of my other riders. Having experienced worse in Asia, I wasn’t too bothered by this and I learnt to expect the unexpected. I was still in Australia after all, about to spend 2 months traveling- nothing could be that bad.

Our bus always seemed to be on its last leg and finally, that leg gave out with a large explosion. The bus clicked and clacked, grinding sounds were made, and the stick bounced up with an explosion. We all knew what had happened though none dared say it. The driver pushed the bus for a bit longer but eventually, he resigned himself to the fact that we weren’t going to reach the next town. The problem with breaking down in the outback is that there aren’t many people around and, break down too far outside the last town, and you’ll be stuck for hours, without any mobile reception. That was our case. We were stuck until a car passed to help us.

We entertained ourselves by drinking and playing trivia games. Nothing passes the time in the desert like drinking. As the day continued on, a car finally drove by. Our driver went over, explained the situation and told us he was going to get help. We would be out here for an hour by ourselves. Visions of wolf creek suddenly jumped though my head. This was going to be an interesting hour. Luckily, we still had plenty of beer.

True to his word, an hour later, our driver returned with a tow truck and we all got into town. Half our problem was solved. The half we still needed to solve was how we were going to continue on with no bus. We were told that the earliest we could get our bus back was on Tuesday. Not a big deal but it was Thursday. I wouldn’t mind spending a night in the town but not four. None of the other passengers were keen on the idea either and, after some phone calls, our driver found a four wheel drive that we six would have to cram into. A difficult task as we had two big people and the car was meant for five people- five people without luggage. It was going to be a squished trip up to Broome but at least we were on our way now.