go west handbook – the blog

With a good nights sleep under the belt the ‘Irish Go West’ team tried to prepare itself for splitting up. The Tercel was packed to the gills  with camping equipment and rucksacks. While Steve was dreaming of his next Liverpool tatoo and Darren was getting his 14 hours a day sleep; the rest of us tried to figure out how we were going to attack the rest of the west coast with only one car. Eugene ‘Ginola’ Greaney wasn’t helping the situation when he walked past two French backpackers with a campervan to themselves, claimed he didnt see them with the hair in his eyes.  The next bus coming through this godforsaken spot that made Ballyjamesduff look like New York wasn’t coming for another two months. The Galway trio were forced to put on a smile and hitch the 240km trip to the next town; Port Hedland. The Dundalk branch spun the wheels and motored on in the Tercel which was in need of a rest after towing Steve’s “I don’t know what oil is” Creavens shitbox Magna the day before.

About an hour into the trip the Tercel was cruising along when all of a a sudden a car flew past with three of the gammiest heads I’ve ever seen hanging out the window. Turns out the boys are in luck when some union head takes pity on them and gives them a lift on the condition Gino puts some socks on to cover his toes which now resemble Freddy Kruger’s ring piece after a spicy Indian. By the time the Tercel rolls into town the boys have been taken on a guided tour of Port Hedland and given the in’s and out’s of mining and exporting. After a quick bite it was down to the airport to see if we could get our hands on a car needing relocating, turns out we just missed one. Typical! Finto and Nige decided to keep her lit and hit the road for Broome while the 3 boys tried their look at hitch hiking again.

After some serious driving the Tercel pulled into Broome. We made a quick call down to Juma and Becca’s campsite for a quick reunion. We obviously weren’t missed that much as Becca didn’t bother getting up to see us, no room in the inn there so more driving looking for somewhere to kip. Dead good, right good, innit! After some serious f##*ing and blinding we decided to sleep in the car. Genius’ that we are, we thought it would be a good idea to sleep beside a river. Nige was killing mosquitoes for a good 20mins when we got a phone call from the boys to say they didn’t get a lift and were spending the night sleeping on the ground beside the petrol pumps. The Tercel felt like a king size bed with the thought of the boys pulling pebbles out of their ears.

This entry was posted on Monday, December 21st, 2009 at 3:42 am and is filed under Irish go west. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.