Ziggy and Ron.
For Geoff
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| The offending piece of equipment |
The first we heard from Ron was his generator. We arrived at Canebrake Pool, non-generator campsite, as camp hosts with the hummm of this noisy
apparatus as welcoming serenade in this otherwise tranquil bush camp. We decided to ava’ yarn. During our advance
to camp Ron we heard Ziggy's feisty yap for the first time. Ziggy the dog is a Shiatsu,
Maltese cross and a red hot little guard dog. Nothing gets near Ron’s trailer
without being profusely barked at by the little star man. Over the next couple
of weeks we heard the word “Ziggy” yelled out in all sorts of different ways.
There was a gruff “Ziggy” if someone walked by or a despairing “Ziggy” when his hunting instinct took over and started chasing a bungarra. “He will tear up a goanna if it gets close” Ron pronounced. “That’s why
Ziggy is always on the lead”.
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| Ziggy sniffing out a possible intruder |
Ron soon turned out to be always up for a chat and being
of true semi grey nomad ilk, we are allowing ourselves more time for other
humans of any kind. Over the next three weeks we got to know Ron quite well.
Ron is the person who talks the most of anyone I know that has claimed “I don’t talk much”. Ron can chew the leg off a
chair but his stories were always fascinating and loved listening to them.
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| Ron in the middle of a story |
We found out how his home built trailer was set up with the
generator, how he stayed at free
camp-sites where they allowed dogs, how he had travelled like this for the last
12 years and and how he was living without fixed abode. Ron has three kids he
spoke of with some feeling, but was
divorced when, in his words,“she found another fellah”. Ziggy had walked into
Rons campsite three years ago and they have taken good care of each other ever
since. Julie spent hours talking to Ron about grooming, worming, defleaing,
what to feed Ziggy and you could see the pair go for “walkies” at least twice
a day.
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| Ziggy just walked into Rons camp |
Three weeks after saying goodbye to the pair at Cranebrake
we pulled over to investigate a free camping spot called Bromus Dam close to
Norseman. “Hey look Jules - it looks like another Ron” I said, pointing at a
campsite in the distance. Promptly, from afar the unmistaking yap of Ziggy
followed by a gruff “Ziggy". Ziggy
excitedly ran to us like we were long lost friends and jumped all over us. We
were all very surprised to find each other in this spot. Ron left Canebrake the
same day as us and was on his way to a secret locatation around Kalgoorlie to
go prospecting. He said with a cheeky grin that a 36 million dollar nugget, like
the one someone found recently, would be a great supplement to his pension. In the same breath he said he
would not change his lifestyle one bit but maybe emphasise “style” just a
little.
Over a few coldies during what's known as the grey nomad's
happy hour, Ron passionately talked about the Vietnam war. As a Corporal in the
army, he was teaching his fellow soldiers specialising in the art of dropping in behind enemy lines. The troops were just
about to be sent in, including young Corporal Ron, when Whitlam pulled the
Aussies out of Vietnam. Ron said he felt very frustrated that he and his men
could not go to Vietnam and use the skills they had trained so hard for and to do his bit for this country. An interesting discussion developed
whether Ron, in this case, was plain
unlucky or if he had dodged a bullet.
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We mentioned to Ron our plans to drive the excuisite
Norseman to Hyden road and the rugged Holland track on the way back and asked
if Ron and Ziggy would mind guarding our van. In my mind, leaving our
van with Ron and Ziggy was always a safe option even though we only knew him for
less than a month. Ziggy would raise mary hell if anyone came near our caravan.
Ron said they were not going anywhere soon and accepted the job and the carton
that would come his way. When we checked
in over the phone from Kalgoorlie he mischievously said the van was ok but he
had a couple of offers on it.
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| Ziggy guarding our property |
When we returned from our Holland track adventure, we sat down for a cuppa with Ron and Ziggy. In the shade of his tarpaulin Ron said, with a glint in his eye, he was chasing “real freedom”. No one bugging him, out in the wilderness and living out his life.
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| Ron's camp at Bromus Dam |
Crucial to living free out bush, he said you needed to have a fresh water
source, good enough to wash clothes and do the dishes as he pointed at a 20
litre white container with greenish water and a tadpole swimming around in it.
Ron always had his fly squat handy as the marsh flies were
prolific biters. When one such horrid horse fly creature bit Ron on the leg, Ziggy
was immediately at hand to lick the bite gently. We were witnessing a close and
loving relationship between dog and man.
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| Ziggy showing affection |
If you find a good place to camp next to a billabong and see
Ron’s camp and his fiery grey ball of energy go over and say G’day. We wish Ron
and Ziggy the best of luck on the road
and we will call his phone number every once in a while to see if they are both
ok or just in case he does find that massive nugget.
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| Some of the carton we paid Ron with for services rendered |
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