Woodslane Press Pty Ltd
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First published in Australia in 2020 by Woodslane Press
© 2020 Woodslane Press, text © 2020 Liz Byron, illustrations © Lisa Hearl
Reprinted 2020
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Printed in Australia by McPhersons
Cover image: Lisa Hearl and Robyn Murphy
Illustrations: Lisa Hearl
Book design by: Jenny Cowan
Contents
Chapter 1 DONKEYS Bungendore
Chapter 2 SETTING OUT Bungendore to Cooktown
Chapter 3 SETTLING IN Cooktown to Wujal Wujal
Chapter 4 POWERING ON Wujal Wujal to Julatten
Chapter 5 NO MORE FAIRY TALES Julatten to Mount Molloy
Chapter 6 NEW HORIZONS Mount Molloy to Mutchilba
Chapter 7 THE WAY THROUGH Mutchilba to Innot Hot Springs
Chapter 8 ARE WE THERE YET? Innot Hot Springs to Uramo Station
Chapter 9 DETOUR Road to Uramo Station
Chapter 10 EXPOSED Uramo to Yammanie Station
Chapter 11 UNRAVELLING Yammanie Station to Mingela
Chapter 12 GRACE Mingela to New Hidden Valley Station
Chapter 13 MOVING ON New Hidden Valley to Tierawoomba Station
Chapter 14 RECONNECTING Tierawoomba Station
Chapter 15 THE WANDERER Tierawoomba Station to Gracemere
Chapter 16 STRAYS AND ANGELS At Gracemere
Chapter 17 HERE I AM Gracemere to Wallaby Station
Chapter 18 TIME TO GO HOME Wallaby Station to Mount Perry and Beyond
Devote six years to your work,
but in the seventh
go into solitude or among strangers.
So that your friends, by remembering what you were,
do not prevent you from being what you have become.
Leo Szilard (1898-1964)
THANK YOU
I wish to express my deepest gratitude to everyone who has helped me on this journey, both along the trek and in the writing of this book.
Liz Byron
Chapter 1: DONKEYS
Bungendore
“I’ve had enough!” I yelled, “Can’t you understand? We have to move faster if we’re going to get to water tonight! C’mon, for God’s sake!”
Ten or 15 metres at a brisk pace and they slowed down, yet again.
“That’s it! You walk at your pace and I’ll walk at mine!”
My hasty footsteps crunched on the dry eucalypt leaves as I stormed ahead, perspiring from anxiety and the blazing sun. After about 30 metres I looked back, expecting the dominant donkey Grace to have taken Charley off to find anything remotely edible. But there they were, standing side-by-side, exactly where I left them. The connecting rope hung loose between them and Charley’s lead rope rested over her neck where I’d tossed it. I burst out laughing at my two patient animals looking at me as if to say, Have you finished yet? Do you feel better now?
I walked back to them. The tender gaze in their eyes touched my heart. Tears rolled down my cheeks: tears of compassion, for my donkeys, myself, my newly estranged husband and my children, now adults. I could see my tantrum for what it was, the residual pain of a frightened, lonely child.
The love and acceptance in those two pairs of donkey-eyes saturated my whole being with forgiveness.