the shrieking woman

So we decided to high-tail it quite quickly across the Kimberley’s.

This is a place where you need to have mad 4WD skillz, heaps of time and a bit of cash for the tours and flights so you can see it at it’s best.

None of these we have.

So rather than waste time pining over what we don’t have, we figured we’d come back here someday when we can do it properly. And as such, we’ve driven almost over a thousand kilometres in just a few days to get to the Northern Territory.

You can’t drive without a few days rest now and then and every state border has a fruit fly quarantine so we pulled up at Kununurra for 2 nights, to recoup and eat vegetables. Kununurra is couple hundred kilometres west of the Northern Territory border.

The general routine when we pull into a caravan park is that I wait in the car while Husband man goes to organise a site and make payments. And there was quite a long line of caravans as we pulled up. As they slowly got placed, about 15 minutes later, I had inched our rig to the front of the line right outside the office door, waiting for husband man to step out.

It was here that I encountered the amazing Shrieking Woman.

It was about 32 degrees, a dry heat and smack bang in the middle of the day. So after pulling the van up to the office entrance, I opened the car door, stood up and leaned against the seat to get blood flowing to the legs and some fresh air after 400kms stuck in the car. Husband man was still inside the office arranging a site for us. I kind of stared blankly at the office door.

Pulling me out of my day dream with a jolt comes a woman – bursting out of the office. She makes a bee-line toward me, shouting all the way. I can hardly understand a word she is saying because her shouty is in some high-pitched frequency that only dogs could hear I was assuming she could not possibly be directing that kind of shouty at me.

When I realise she is getting closer to me and looking me in the eye – I start to try to understand what she is shrieking at.

“You’re not going any further right now” she shrieks.

I kind of stare blankly at her and then I figure that because of all the people lined up, the must have run out of sites so I’ll have to reverse out and we’ll head off to another caravan park. And before I can properly finish that thought, she’s shouting:

“You’ll just have to stay there”.

“Um, okay” I reply, staring at her blankly.

It’s about now that I am at a loss as to why this woman is shouting at me, it’s not like I knew they would be all booked out or anything. Meanwhile, where in the fark is my Husband man.

My apparent lack of anxiety toward the situation must have unsettled her, because she went from shouty into shrieking as she was saying:

“You’re going to have to stay there, you’ve got a flat”.

I am still standing there with a lack of bother, which was obviously the incorrect response.

“A flat!!!!!” she was shreaking. And waving her hands about the air. All very hot and bothersome.

So, as I understood it now, we were not refused entry, but we had a flat tyre on the caravan. Still, I wasn’t phased. Surely if one has a flat tyre, one changes their flat tyre and there is not need for incessant shrieking about it.

So I said – “Oh, okay. Well we’ll just put the spare on”.

Cause, duh, that’s why we have a spare tyre is it not?

“You’re going to have to stay right there and change that flat” she shrieked “You can’t park a caravan like that”.

“OK, no worries” was all I could be bothered to muster up. And finally, finally, Husband man walks out of the office. He walks over to me and I tell him that we need to change the tyre before we go to our site because the Shrieking Woman over there insists. He asks who the Shrieking Woman is.

Shrieking Woman begins shrieking the same things at Husband man, so I need not further explain.

And so this is the my first EVER encounter with having to change a tyre in my 12+ years of driving.

Once Husband man had safely got away from the Shrieking Woman, he asked me where the jack is. I frown and say – “well what the fuck is a jack?”

Good start.

A jack, for all you would be tyre changing experts out there, is a metal implement that makes the vehicle rise off the ground in order to give you space to remove the failed tyre.

I vaguely remember Husband man’s brother showing us the location of said item and we dig it out. However, it’s some sort of special Hilux one for new Hilux’s and not for vintage caravans. It won’t work so we need a vintage jack for Van Morrison. We don’t have this item.

Now, yes, I am sure the helpy smurf in you is, right about now saying to yourself, that you wouldn’t travel for 20,000 kilometres around Australia without a jack for your caravan. And to that I say - well we got the last 12,000 kilometres without needing it.

So whatevs.

Husband man had to go back to the office to ask if they had a jack we could borrow. Having already infuriated me with her shouty hoo haa about the discovery of the flat – there was no way I could go and ask this woman myself.

As it was, I could hear the conversation from where I was.

Husband man “Do you have a jack we could borrow for the caravan?”

Shrieking Woman “YOU DON'T HAVE A JACK FOR YOUR CARAVAN!!!”

Husband man (far too polite) “No, can we please borrow one?”

Shrieking Woman “You mean YOU DON’T have a jack for your CARAVAN!”

Not only is she shouty, she’s captain obvious as well.

After a few more times of the same rhetorical question, she proceeds to witch cackle and tell Husband man that we are “not very experienced travellers” with an upward inflection, as though is a question. He kind of laughed politely because he is far too nice a person.

But see, now was where Shrieking Woman really came into her own.

She promptly walked out of the office, shouted something in my direction about driving without jacks and then proceeded to shouty her way around the caravan park, shrieking:

“Do you have a jack we can borrow? These people have a flat tyre on their van and no jack – can you imagine it, ha ha ha ha”.

This went on for about another 10 minutes.

Thankfully, a very kind and handy man had heard her shouty from somewhere within the park and appeared to rescue us. He was your regular maintenance guy and while Husband man was shifting his feet, looking at the tyre, willing it to change itself – maintenance guy got on the ground and got to work.

The tyre was completely shredded. We had remembered, some 100kms before getting there, the caravan feeling like it had lifted in the air as we drove. We’d stopped, checked for flats and damage and found nothing. So we drove on.

Then we had arrived with not just a flat, but a tyre shredded right through the tread and the metal rim resting on the limp rubber across the ground. It had also somehow completely destroyed the mud-guard connecting to inside the caravan, to the cupboard where we kept the canned stuff, so theres a few tins of baked beans strewn in our wake.

We were actually rather lucky to have arrived without running ourselves off the road or the sparks flying off into the van and setting it alight.

So my advice is, don’t be scooting around the country without a jack that works for your caravan, as this type of behaviour causes spontaneous anxious shrieking from complete strangers.

In any case, the tyre is changed and we got a new one before we left town for the other wheel and a new spare. I never had to see the Shrieking Woman again and thankfully our site was far enough away from the office that I didn’t have to hear her either.

And we now find ourselves safely in the Northern Territory, heading north toward Darwin.