Our First Tyre Change

While not as charming as “our first kiss” or “our first date”, our first tyre change was quite the adventure.

First to clarify for North American readers: Australians use “tyre” instead of “tire”, after the British. The alternative spelling was one of the first things I called home about. Now, to our tyre change. Chris and I were driving to Coppabella, as we have gotten into the habit of doing on Monday mornings. Previously, Chris had hitched a ride with his American colleague, but since she started going in on Sunday afternoons, I’ve been driving Chris into camp so we get a bit more time together during the weekend.

We were motoring along, using cruise control to keep from speeding, and playing life trivia to keep alert. Life trivia consists of asking the other person ridiculous questions about yourself to see how well they’ve been paying attention all these years. Questions included:  “What was the first programming language I learned?” and “What was the name of my brother’s girlfriend when we first met?” Then, seemingly out of thin air, a massive pothole appeared on the highway. Despite his good intentions, Chris swerved right into it, damaging our left front tyre. Pulling over to inspect the tyre, we saw that it had a bump in the shape of cartoon goose egg and could burst at a moment’s notice.

Spirits slightly dampened, we drove to camp and pulled out our spare tyre complete with a tool kit. I removed the bolt caps and Chris loosened the bolts, but we mostly puzzled about how to use the mini jack lift included with the car. Thankfully, a kind plumber by the name of Danny stopped to lend a hand. With a few tyre changes under his belt, Danny went straight to work quickly removing the busted tyre and screwing on the spare. We thanked him profusely and I drove back to Mackay to spend lots of money at a repair shop. Now that I’ve seen Danny do it, I think we could manage a tyre change without much hassle. In the mean time, we’re keeping our fingers crossed that this morning will be our first, and only, tyre change.

Katie goes to Coppabella

Yesterday I drove for two hours South West from Mackay to Coppabella to visit Chris in camp. On my way out of town, I passed a sugar mill at the end of Horse-Jockey road; it was a very Australian moment. After pulling a U-Turn, I got onto the Peak-Downs Highway along with the industry sponsored Toyota pick-ups, big rigs, and old sedans.

As the highway wore on, I drove through tiny communities like Eton, where the speed limit drops to 60 km/h and all the amenities are grouped together along one city block. Driving further, the only sights were gnarly trees, grazing cows, and home-made crash site bulletins.

Your typical chain-mail, country sign

I stopped at the Retreat Hotel to stretch my legs and have a snack. I was greeted with American country music, a mechanical bull, and quaint signs. It was like I was driving through Alberta. I struck up conversation with a fellow rest-stopper, who like many of the Aussies I’ve met thus far, told me about the beautiful sites to see in Queensland. Regularly on the road between industry towns, he strongly recommended the Blackdown Tableland National Park  and Carnarvon Gorge. He showed me pictures and videos on his smart phone, excited to brag about his country, with good reason.

Back on the road, the sun was roasting me. I had forgotten to apply sunscreen to my legs, so the remainder of my trip was spent adjusting the visor to try avoid direct radiation. I distracted myself with new playlists and national radio; playlists for fifth gear and seventh gear are included below.

These units seemed like converted freight containers

I arrived at The Mac camp, located across the road from the village of Coppabella, shortly before the day shift ended. Driving past row upon row of mobile housing, I was in awe at the scale of the camp.  Thousands of people working at a variety of sites are housed at The Mac. Each room has an extra-long twin bed, a wardrobe, a desk, a mini-fridge, a television, a washroom complete with a shower, and of course, air conditioning. It was like residence, but with work boots and high-vis clothing. Most of the vehicles parked outside the units were trucks with snorkel attachments (for flooding) and large grills atop their hoods (for hitting wildlife).

Chris has become fast friends with an American couple who work with him at Poitrel mine. Sherri, a fellow engineer, has been invaluable in helping Chris get settled. This week Sherri’s mom was visiting from Arizona and staying with her in camp. The four of us went into Coppabella for the Leighton crew weekly bar night. It was your typical middle-of-nowhere pub; deep-fried food, cold beer, old jukebox, tattooed workers. I quickly learned that saying “I’m shouting” means “I’m buying everyone a round of whatever they want.” Shouting also takes the form of leaving a pile of money on the table. Your mates grab the money, buy themselves a drink, and return the change to the pot.

At the pub we dined on crumb steak and chips (chicken-fried steak with fries, as Sherri’s mom called it) and drank beer and goon (wine). The Aussies quizzed us on the difference between ‘mum’ and ‘mom’ and shared their general impressions and stories of North America. We learned that  Crocodile and Kangaroo meat are only tasty if they’re fed tasty food. Plus I added some new words to my Aussie vocabulary; my favourites were mint and bonza.

We woke at 5AM this morning and ate breakfast in the camp cafeteria, Zest Eatery. It was quite the production; Zest offers an extensive selection of hot and cold breakfast, as well as a lunch bar where workers pack food for the day. Groggy and overwhelmed, I opted for toast and porridge. At 6AM, Chris and Sherri car-pooled to the mine site and I got back on the highway for Mackay.

This morning I realized that what had seemed like fog on the drive up was actually smoke from brush burning. There were brief showers on my drive back, a welcome respite from the morning sun. I drove behind a concrete mixer that sprayed dirt and water on my windshield and at one point, pulled over for a road-train that was carrying the largest shovel I have ever seen. It was comically massive, probably the size of a small house. After I arrived in Mackay, I napped for three hours, exhausted from the five hours of driving that I racked up in past 24. While weekly visits to camp may not be reasonable, the occasional trip is definitely worth the long drive.

Mackay to Coppabella Playlists

Fifth Gear

Payne’s Bay by Beirut

Video Games by Lana Del Rey

Masters in China by Priscilla Ahn

Montezuma by Fleet Foxes

Winter Song by The Head and the Heart

Holecene by Bon Iver

Wood by Rostam

The Sound of Silence (T2MM edit) by Simon and Garfunkel

Graveyard by Feist

Something or Nothing by Netherlands

Working on a Dream by Wintercoats

Seventh Gear

What did she say by Switch

The City by Patrick Wolf

Act Yr Age by Blue Juice

This is the Life by Two Door Cinema Club

My Love by The Bird and The Bee

Captive by Sarah Harmer

Gladiator by Big Scary

Part Time Believer by Boy & Bear

Hurting by Friendly Fires

Moves by Gold Fields

The Clapping Song feat. Coin Locker Kid by Katalyst