I can see this man’s face so clearly, but just can’t remember his name, so I’ll call him Ken, a name that would have suited this rough diamond. At the start of the Tent Period (glossary) the team’s budget allowed for a camp cook, and Ken was appointed. He was ideal. He was good natured, respectful and always prepared to roll up his sleeves and help with something that needed to be done, whether it was in his job description or not. He was used to living away from town and city comforts, employed in jobs like cooking for shearers and drovers, and so he technically had a home wherever his swag was currently laid out, though you could also categorize him “of no fixed abode”. In the Wet Season when he was usually not working, I imagine he had friends or family somewhere he’d stay with, I just don’t remember what he told me about that part of his life – and maybe he didn’t. Lots of people out bush prefer to keep their private lives to themselves until they get to know you well, if they ever do.
Ken had worked cooking for shearers’ teams for many years. Sheep shearing is physically demanding, and large teams of people (yes, women shear these days too) move around the Outback sheep stations in shearing season, clipping everyone’s flock. They have to be fed three solid meals a day and smokos. If a property has a smallish flock that only requires a couple of shearers for a day or three, the farmer’s wife and family do all the catering. But large stations with 25,000, 40,000, or 60,000+ sheep in a good season require a larger catering effort, and teams of caterers move around, too.
Ken cooked breakfast in the mornings; eggs of course, with various other things, bacon, toast, and I don’t remember what else, but they were hearty. He packed the lunches for everyone, heaps of sandwiches, fruit and cake or biscuits. Once they rolled out of camp he took a smoko and a bit of time off before starting after lunch to prepare the biccies and cakes for the next day, and then start the evening meal for the 15-16 people in the camp, including myself. (I prepared the kids’ meals, and fed them early around 5-30 – 6pm, just before the team arrived back each evening) Everyone woke early just after sun-up, began work early, took time off in the hottest part of the day, and finished for the day late in the afternoon. It was always really hot. Once back in camp, people took showers, had a couple of beers, ate dinner and did a bit more relaxing, reading, playing cards, yarning over a few beers took place until about 9-30pm when the generator went off and so it was lights out! We lived by farmers’ hours more or less. Having breakfasted and got equipment organised and the radio schedule done, the geos and fieldies left the camp at 8am and were gone for the day, arriving back around 5.30 or 6pm. During all that time it was just Ken in camp, with myself and the two kids, Ivan (4) and Anna (9 months). Apart from the generator plugging away from about 6am to 9.30pm, the stillness in the bush around us took a bit of getting used to, but I came to value it enormously.
Ken’s swag included a good radio which he had on all the time wherever he was – a soul mate. Out bush everyone worked 6 days. I don’t know about Ken’s time allocation – he always had saturday afternoons off. On that day, after lunch he’d shower and change into a nice shirt and long pants, put on his snappy straw hat, and listen avidly to the saturday races broadcast over the radio, quietly downing a few beers during the afternoon. It was just as if he’d gone to the track, really. He followed the horses keenly, knew the form of horses and jockeys, and I’m sure had arrangements with a bookie in town.
That all lasted for just a month or so. I don’t remember why, exactly, but one day Ken was helping with something that involved a vehicle. Unfortunately as he stood on the running board of the slow moving ute, a branch flipped up, breaking his ankle. He was taken to hospital in Darwin and he was not replaced in the camp. Instead we were joined by two more fieldies. There was possibly something budgetary in all this, including that Ken’s cooked breakfasts might have been unnecessarily hearty, anyway. We changed to get your own, pack your own lunch, with everyone taking turns to cook the evening meal. We missed Ken after that, but interesting people continued to come into the camp, and I’ll mention more from time to time.