With community event boards that advertise such uneventful happenings as the next local Council Meeting, the drudgery of one-horse towns begins once east of Northam. Hypercritical East coasters may believe the drudgery to begin just 20km out of Scarborough. As I slow to a town my eyeballs speed up, in search of anything notable about this particular town. But nothing is notable. It’s all the same from the highway, with the most constant unnoteable infrastructure being the water pipeline. It’s impossible for even the most incompetent traveller to become lost along the Great Eastern Highway on your way to Kalgoorlie (Kal). Simply find Mundaring Weir then follow the “Golden Pipeline”. But it’s grey really and you will notice it more once you see that first sign advertising the hotline to ring to report any leaks. I watched for leaks the entire way. One-horse town after one-horse town, each over-budgeted for signage drawing attention to pipeline related tourism i.e. pump house after bloody pump house.

So when not looking for leaks in the pipeline my eyes continue to scan the towns. But then I start contemplating the fact that there may be nothing of interest the entire way to Kal. That was my precise thought as I passed through Meckering (133km east of Perth) and noticed the sign advertising the star geological attraction in town, the “Meckering Fault Line”. I continue driving along with a semi trailer up my butt. The semitrailer that I had just passed. And I remembered those Grey Nomads with van in toe and that P plater Id swept past back when I had a moment of clarity on the road. If I stop these slow guys are all going to whip past me again. And what am I stopping for exactly? Yes there was quite a large 6.9 earthquake here in 1968 but what’s the bet I pull over and there is some pathetic crack in the ground. I mean, no one died, thus eliminating any real historical significance of the place. The most tragic thing in fact was the collapse of the local Hotel. But in true Aussie spirit the Hotelier had retrieved what beer he could and set up a new pub across the road at the service station within 24 hours of the quake.

Monday 7.20pm – Kalgoorlie

It was in 1892 when gold was first uncovered here in Kal, sparking a massive gold rush and the birth of a new town and ultimately the beginning of Western Australia (WA). And “luck of the Irish” would prove to be a wise choice of saying, especially when three Irishmen found 100 ounces of nuggets, ultimately discovering the richest square mile on earth (known as the “Golden Mile”).

And although bullet dints may litter every road sign within a 200km radius of town, there are other elements that signify a much more civilised way of being. Such as Barista 202. Found up a side alley it is packed with coffee tables and people, it’s not quite Melbourne but close enough considering we are in the Goldfields. Busy with mine workers too, maybe I shouldn’t have struck Kal off the list. For a mining town it isn’t too bad. Charming shop fronts with roof to gutter awnings, charming shop fronts with not much behind the facade. There’s your usual regional centre (about 30,000 people) assortment of chemists, banks, travel agents and ladies High Street fashion stores such as Cavazzis Clothing and Styleline Ladies Fashions & Accessories. Oh, and of course pubs and more pubs.

Maritana Street crosses the main street, Hannnan, and has pubs to the north, east, south and west. Yes almost on every corner. Beautiful two storey iron-laced heritage pubs but who cares about all that when you are inside, cold beer in hand and it’s skimpy night. Question: Were skimpy’s invented in Kalgoorlie? Will someone please explain to me the skimpy phenomena, and then would you be so kind as to write about it in Wikipedia? I think the whole desperado act of getting the kit off for a bit of extra cash is a form of prostitution. But I’ve never been to a skimpy bar nor do I want to (and therefore are probably not qualified to talk about the topic) but it does bring back memories of one drunken night out with my mates and our plans to start up a reality program called “My Strip Club Rules”. We planned to go on a national tour auditioning male strippers for our club (but I think that’s already been done now)…. that or open a pub featuring Skimpos.

Tuesday 9.10am - The Super Pit, Kalgoorlie

After 100 years of struggling small mines Alan Bond enacted the ultimate bondage by amalgamating all the smaller mining leases to make the Super Pit in 1989. The Super Pit will one day stretch 3.8km long and 1.55km wide and mine to a depth of 500m. Not the deepest open cut by today’s standards. Olympic Dam will eventually leave a 1.5km cavity in the South Australian landscape. However, it still makes all the ones I’ve ever worked at look like baby voids in the ground. With my Exploration Geologist cap on I stand here overlooking the miniature blast rigs belting out patterns, dump trucks hauling up seemingly endless ramps, and are overcome with sentiment. Is it possible that I am missing work?

I leave Kal’s ochre dust in my wake and head out towards Kambalda where I miss the bright blue signage advertising Lake Lefroy. Well I didn’t miss the signage I just didn’t notice that it was a dried-out salt lake so wasted plenty of time worrying about whether Id packed my swimmers, and if I did pack my swimmers whether I was smart enough to pack them on top. I pass south through Norseman on my way to Esperance but its not until I backtrack back north a day later that tragedy strikes.

Wednesday 2:38pm - 2km short of Grass Patch

“No no NO”! The unthinkable happened. It was to be the lowest part of the road trip thus far. It actually led me to contemplate whether the whole trip should be cancelled… whether I should turn back. Completely dejected, I could have at this point canned the whole f#cking trip. My CD player had ceased all operations.

Wednesday 4:28pm - Norseman

Two hours and 20 minutes later and the tragedy has been successfully averted, a true tragedy (in the Shakespearean sense). Teach me for jiggling with the car phone charger. As it would seem… I blew a bloody fuse and my bop du wop world in the Suzuki was very suddenly over. My downfall was destined to be painful and prolonged. It would start with joyless singing, well known songs at first, then turn into made up songs… deeper and darker the more bitumen my tyres consumed. Then would come the beginnings of a diatribe of self-loathing and who knows how it would have ended. But as I reached Norseman and rounded the second roundabout I caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a workshop, warped and blurred through the bubbling tint of my passenger side window. A quick U turn confirmed my joyous suspicions. Nearing the close of business hours on a Friday afternoon in the last major town before Ceduna (1208km away), I found a mechanic, both willing and able.

Introducing Dean and my ode to Dean, which could go on and on but will stop after the first verse:

Dean oh Dean you’re such a dream

The most fantastic mechanic I’ve ever seen

You swapped my fuse and fixed my machine

Dean oh Dean for you I’m keen

I hit the Eyre Highway and fidget with my undies, then my left sleeve, then undies, and my right thong (which keeps mysteriously slipping off). I finish fidgeting and decide its time for Gotye. This calls for lots of car dancing and includes some scintillating shoulder shrugs. Its the perfect highway soundtrack and its just me and the open road… no naggers, no nay sayers, no WA slappers tooting and giving me the finger for merging when merging was all that was called for. I drive east in deep contemplation about Gotye’s influences… is it the Beach Boys, Shirley Bassey perhaps.