I'm Just The Driver

My therapy is helping people. It’s the best cure for depression. Find someone who is worse off than you and help them. 

But it doesn’t mean you aren’t going to be shat on.
We played a little part, trying to keep him motivated. 

‘He didn’t want to get out and walk until it was 40 degrees. 

Harrison Island (Martagarup) is between Burswood and East Perth on Noonga sacred land. 

I heard they were on the island and I went in there and supported them and started carting loads of wood in there. 

I went in to pick them up on the Island for the photos of the farewell. And I took a trailer with me to pick their stuff up for the trip. I said where’s your stuff. And they said, ‘there.’ There was two cardboard boxes, two tents, two sleeping bags and two plates. And that was it. 

I asked them again, where’s your stuff. And they said, ‘that’s it there.’ 

Then I decided I couldn’t go with just that stuff so I went home and got my camping gear. 

I spent the day welding some bars on my little trailer and collecting up my gear I thought we’d need for the trip.  While I did this, Clinton started walking. I also started collecting chairs and tables from roadside collections and hit the op shops for pots, pans, cups, plates, and cutlery.  

Our first night was camped outside of Perth in a reserve. We were told to move on the next day by rangers. It was fine with us. We had a tight schedule to reach Canberra. Our aim for four months. 

All the way to Kalgoolie we camped at way stations. They are spaced 25 kilometers apart. It was the original pony express route for the gold rush where people were transported by horse and carriage.

My great grandmother’s partner was Arthur C. Ashwin, 1850-1930, prospector and pastoralist who wrote Gold to Grass. This trip was becoming very personal to me. It wasn't only Clinton's Walk for Justice but a chance for me to get in contact with my family that was scattered all over the state.

We continued on from Mundaring to Alkabalo Blanco. Use to have dancing Spanish horses there. 

We camped at a way station in Alkabalo. 

The third day we camped Northam. Clinton had walked ninety to a hundred k’s at that stage. 

We camped in a park in Northam. We stayed about three days till the rangers told us to move on. I bought a pair of shoes for Clinton in a shop there for half price. It was his first pair of runners. 

On the Monday we let Northam. I think we camped in Meckaring the next day. There,  they have a little campground and a museum on the earthquake back in  1968.

The next day we went to Cunderdin. That’s another 25 k’s. 

Clinton was still keen then. I think we stayed in Meckaring a couple of nights. 

After Cunderdin, we stayed at my nephew’s house in Kellerberrin. Can’t remember how many nights we stayed there either. 

The next day we went to Merredin. Clinton hadn’t reached the town yet.  He was eleven k’s short and would have to cover the distance the next day. That would be a recurring pattern. We'd mark the spot on the road where he stopped and make sure he started there the next morning. 

We stayed with my other nephew Claton Ashwin for a couple of nights where we also met up with Mick Hayden who organized a welcome.  We had to take Clinton back out to town to start the walk again. We got a welcome from the Naji Naji people. 

We had a barbecue in the park. 

And next day Mick took us for a tour at a reserve. 

During the day, we had Clinton do a talk at the local primary school. We didn't know then, but these talks would be a big part of the walk in every town we passed through.  

We stayed here for two or maybe three nights. 

Then Mick took us for a walk. We met the old people at the reserve. Took a walk, looked at some sights and ate some bush food. 

The next day some Naji Naji kids walked out with Clinton. 

When we were leaving there, Noonie had a little aboriginal flag on his cart attached to the back of his bike.. I went looking for it and I got pulled up by the police. A kid’s parent called up the police saying I looked suspicious. Then I had a talk to the sergeant, who wished us luck and on we went. I never did find the flag. 

For firewood all the way to Kalgoolie, I picked up the gluts off the side of the road that fell off from the trucks. I also picked up some big chunks of steel too that fell off the trucks. It could have killed someone if hit the driver’s windshields. 

I met some nice people at Meckaring.

People were welcoming from the outset and fed and housed us on our journey. This was a recurring pattern. 

 Gary and his wife who cooked us stew for dinner.   Gary even brought out a  dijiridoo which was owned by his brother who had passed away. He asked me to play it. 

 We stayed there two nights. 

The weather was cold. It was late September as we passed wheat belt. The Great Eastern Highway goes through it, our route for the walk.

The next town was Cunderdin, which was 25 kilometers apart from Meckaring. Can’t remember if we camped there or not. 

If I had my photos that got pinched and deleted, I’d know all this by looking at the pictures. 

In Kellerberin I went to the pie shop. It was closed so I knocked on the door. The owner eventually came to the front door and opened it. After telling him about our walk, he gave me a big bag of pies and cakes.

When we left Meridian, I got pulled up by the cops. Someone called them up saying they had spotted a weirdo who was acting strange. I was actually looking for the aboriginal flag that fell off Noonie's bike.   The copper just laughed and wished us a safe trip.  I never did find that flag. 

The first week was drama free and paved the way for the sixteen days through the desert. 

After  Meridan we arrived in Burrucopin. Clinton was averaging about 25 kilometers a day. Every station was 25 kilometers apart, like in the old days, the change of horses. 

 Steve and his fiance met us forty kilometers before Koolgardie where we were camped. 

I had never met them before until they turned up. They came to explain they coming to support us and what they were about. They gave us two containers of fuel, bought us  $200 of food and Clnton three knee braces and bought us dinner. They came out to the site where Elijah was murdered. A stray kitten came up to Slyvia and she adopted it. ‘It was almost dead,’ she told me recently. It’s now a well adjusted ‘teenage’ cat running a muck in their Greenwood home in Perth. 

Sylvia believes it was the spirit of Elijah who was ran over by a white guy. She sees the spiritual connection. ‘It walked right up to the spot he was run down,’ she says. 

Slyvia said they tried to keep in contact with Clinton and see where they could help out. ‘He didn’t want anything to do with us. There’s not much you can do for someone who doesn’t want help.’ 

In the end, both Steve and Slyvia would be blocked by Clinton. But I flew him out from Perth to Canberra. He turned white when the Australian Federal Police came. He had no idea what was going down. He was broke when he arrived. He’d drive back with me back to Perth. It was was good to have one of our first supporters end the walk with us. It just seemed the right thing to do. Clinton was flying over three of his admin team who handled twitter plus his family members. It’s people like Steve and Slyvia who matter most. They gave all they could and then gave some more. It’s people like them who the historic trip possible. Clinton’s only acknowledgment of that was to block them. He blocked me too. But that’s not going to stop the truth from coming out. 

Daddy aint your Dady, son you can’t marry that girl, the girl is your sister and your daddy don’t know. 

Harrison Island?

Why did person who was suppose to drive pull out. 

I have no idea. Apparently they had sponsorship from Nike. They got the money and pulled out. 

It was someone elses idea, the ones that pulled out. They cancelled. Then Clinton decided he’d do it, it was his way to make himself famous. 

Herbert wrote about all on Facebook. 

We borrowed $3000 from my brother when we ran out of money. I’m not sure when Clinton started the Go Fund me. 

It’s important backstory to how the walk began. 

It goes way back before that. 

I was asked to be the driver. The guy pulled out at last minute. It was at Harrison Island. I hadn’t met Noonie yet. We had seen each other but that was about it.

I said pack your stuff and lets go. It seemed a good cause. Clinton had fire in him and I needed a road trip. 

I had family all over the Western Desert so I agreed. 

When we left Kalgoorlie, he had no plans of visiting communities. And I told him if you didn’t want to visit communities, you might as well turn around and go home. That’s the only reason we got to go to all these places like the Tri-State Border, Jameson, Blackstone and Wingellna. That’s where the Tri-State border is, South Australia, WA and the Northern Territory.

We got him talking at primary schools to get him used to talking to crowds. 

They thought he was walking along like a hobo with a bag of clothes on a stick. A lot of people thought he didn’t have anyone along with him. But me and Noonie were with him most of the way. This shows you how self-centred he was. 

“Take my photo, I”m going to get laid in every town.”

Straw man?

‘You’ll have to look it up and read it.’ 

The walk was for a more equatable society for all Australians. We were also highlighting indigenous issues like death’s in custody and closing down remote communities. 

We may have made it to Canberra but the walk didn’t do anything to change the plights of those we were representing. 

L

Clinton walked to this place. Noonie got dropped off there by his sister. And I arrived there about 7 pm. 

He walked about 49 kilometres that way. 

I knew I was going to go before he did. 

I haven’t got any pictures from the start of the walk because a little cunt in Warburton stole my phone and deleted it. 

I’m related to the gold prospector and parstorlist Mr. Irwin. We had three stations out at Waloona. We only own one now. I need to see if I”m eliligle for royalties. 

After the first few weeks I thought about leaving the cunts in Kalgoorlie. But they couldn’t make through it the desert alone. Clinton  told everyone he went up the Pilbara and lived off the land with the elders.  The cunt couldn’t even light a fire.  

He said he was homeless and learned to read and write on the streets.  How do you get a job at TAFE if you are illiterate? 

He says he lived down the island  homeless for sixteen months. He didn’t. He was living in a fucking unit down the road. 

1512 

My journey  started in 2011. 

It’s a long story.

Blue eye 

I didn’t know anything about it until elders would tap it. 

I saw a picture of it in a gallery in Victoria. 

I knew about in 2011. 

It was the Great Central H 

ghway where we were for sixteen days. It was where Clinton nearly died from lack of water. 

‘All he wanted to do was make himself famous. That’s what the walk was about.’ 

This is my spiritual side, he says of the tattoo on his forearm. 

Rawton

The elder was telling him a story  in Raukkan. It’s where David Unaipon who is on the fifty dollar note was born. He invented the shearing blade an the helicopter rotors. As the elder was telling us the story, and Clinton just looked at his phone and walked away. 

Alan Cherpy Campbell went out looking for Clinton and Murry Bridge and couldn’t find him. He reckons they didn’t walk it but Noonie said they did. 

He was basically pulling the shit of not walking the distances. 

In the desert he wouldn’t start walking until nine in the morning when it was 40 degrees. 

Why’s that? 

He’s an idiot. 

I was getting up in the dark, light the fire, cook breakfast so he could move at day light. But he wouldn’t move until he was ready when it was already stinking hot. 

I told Dan, stop donating money, it nearly broke up his relationship. He thought Clinton was the best thing since sliced bread when he met Clinton in Port Augusta. I was just muttering under my breath, wait till you really get to know him. 

Wongi ( Wongee) is another tattoo under it. 

Wong Gyi, says Gary. 

Oh you got no idea, he says after I pronounce it correctly. 

He’s laughing again. 

You don’t have to write everything I fucking say.’ 

I might start the book tonight over a few drinks to relax me. 18/ 5 / 18

It’ s a sunny May Day. 

Not too hot, not too cool. Perth at it’s best. 

Memories flood back. 

It’s a book he’s wanted to write. 

He’s been living the book and now he feels it’s time to share it. 

In many ways, Clinton’s Walk for Justice was his walk. 

‘Everyone’s walk,’ says Gary, ‘everyone who made a donation to make it happen are just as much a  part of the walk as was Clinton the Spiritual walker.’

This book is about setting the records straight. 

‘There wasn’t anyone else,’ says Gary, ‘there was only Clinton.’ 

Gary was only the driver. 

‘We all felt like back seat drivers,’ he says. ‘Clinton had a habit of writing everyone off.’

‘He was that committed to the walk that he forgot to acknowledge his driver and assistant, Noony.’ 

‘If you didn’t have anything to offer him, you were dispensable. If you had something to offer him, you became dispensable too.’

Like all the letters written by the elders he was suppose to give to the Governor General?

“Yep, they ended up on the car floor and eventually the rubbish bin.’ 

‘I didn’t throw them out, Clinton did.’ 

I thought they were suppose to be compiled and handed over. 

‘They were, but it didn’t fix Clinton’s format. He had no time for paperwork.’

Or documenting?

‘He wouldn’t let use a cam corder someone donated. It was never taken out of the box. We could have documented the trip in video but Clinton wouldn’t let us use the cam corder. So we all took personal videos from our phones and cameras. If we weren’t just focusing on Clinton, he didn’t want any part of it.’ 

Inside his house in Armadale, Perth, ‘is my collection from the trip.’ 

He’d ask for keep sakes along the way. ‘And now I have a good collection of indigenous artefacts.’ 

He said a black fella in Wollongong passed him a little picture through the car window. 

‘It’s of a tamarchi law man, see the red band on his head?” 

It’s a haunting little portrait and till this day Gary doesn’t know who the guy was who gave it him. 

It’s probably one of the most unassuming  and interesting paintings in Gary’s collection. 

Ideas: Go fund

Web site

Twitter account and FB 

Then promote, each donation gets a picture of what was purchased and it’s posted with donors name. Transparency is eveything. We aren’t going to use the funds to put it down on a deposit of a house. When we say we are going to use it to write a book, it’s exactly what we mean. 

First post on Blog titled I”m Only the Driver, where we will promote the go fund, that will be linked to an Official Facebook page and Twitter account, managed by us both, or anyone else who wants to volunteer. 

I was only the driver. 

For one year, I drove my Commodore from Perth to Canberra. 

They called it Clinton’s Justice mobile. 

There was me, Clinton and Noonie Raymond. 

We were walking for justice.

Justice for both blacks and whites. 

Most of the donations came from the whites.

I’m a Wongi. 

My father comes from the western deserts. 

It was our aim to collect grievances along the way and present them to  Malcom Turnbill and the Governor General. 

This is my story. ‘I’m only the driver.’ I’m coming clean on the walk that was cut short fifty kilometres before Canberra. 

The walk failed in so many ways. 

Why would you cut a walk short by fifty kilometres after covering almost five thousand kilometres?

Even thought I was only the driver, I’ll tell you why…

You can block me, but that’s not going to stop the truth coming out. 

‘I’m the spiritual walker,’ he’d always say. 

I’d add, the spiritual walker with a fat bank account. None of the money raised in Crowd Funding ever went to where it should be. The money was suppose to be for the homeless of Perth. The idea for the walk started at Harrison Island. 

We were fighting real battles but in the end, the walk for justice just became about the ego of one man. 

Our walk broke International headlines. 

But as the driver, I can tell, I got nothing out of the walk. 

The only physical evidence that the walk ever happened is my car in the back yard that has a  used up registration and is in need of mechanical work. Clinton wanted me to donate it to the Museum in Canberra.  If I did, then I’d have nothing. It was a polite no to a person who didn’t take ‘no’s’ very well. 

More than $30 000 dollars was raised, and that’s not including the cash donations, and all I have is car with signatures from people we met along the way. The Walk for Clinton Team and Clinton himself refused to give a print out of what was donated and where it was spent. Neither me nor Noonie ever saw most of the cash. 

The donors need that transparency and they never got it. It was earmarked for the homeless, another lie. They received nothing. The Go Fund account was controlled by Clinton alone. Sure he paid for fuel, hotels along the way and food. But I’m going to tell you that the money wasn’t spent wisely or sensibly. 

In the end, I was funding the last part of my walk. 

Those cash in hand donations never made it into our pockets. And if they did, it came in the form of cheap supermakert food. 

I’d say another $30 000 was given in cash donations. Where did it all go? We’ll never know. But as the driver and team leader, we deserve to know. 

Clinton’s support team never helped us in any way. They were so distant and aloof from what was really going on. They wrote tweets for Clinton. It was all about raising money. Money they raised. They bragged about making the trip happening, as if they did the walk. They raised the cash, but we never saw any of it. 

This story needs to be told. If you want to help fund it, here is the Go Fund Link. I’ll be updating posts with who donated, and what we spent the money on. I’ll be totally transparent. If I bought a packet of cigarettes and a few beverage drinks, while writing this book, I’ll tip my hat and let the donor know where his or her hard earned cash went. 

But I’ll promise you one thing, this book will be written over a four month period. I’ll send out update chapters to donors via email and add a few sections here to show you I’m committed in writing for justice. 

Signing out for now, 

Gary Irshwan. 

Spiritual walker don’t come from the desert. There was no talk of it while crossing through Western Australia. It came from a supporter in Port Augusta, who suggested one night to Clinton over a few drinks that he should call himself the spirit walker. 

It was said in jest. But Clinton believed it. He fed it to the press, which fed it to the public which fed the idea in Clinton’s head that he actually was the spirit walker. 

Clinton told the press also that he nearly died walking across the desert in Western Australia. We were drinking salty bore water and were about a three hour drive to the next remote community. We were no where near dying. It helped sell newspaper but it was another myth  he cultivated in interviews. 

Over time, the guy who was walking for justice would eventually become another caricature of himself. He was a walking cartoon. Most days he complained about walking. We had to encourage him all the way. 

He loved his breaks. And the pussy breaks could last any where between a week to almost two months which is what happened in Port Augusta. What could we say to our donors? That the car was broke. It had long been fixed up. What should have taken four months to cover the distance from Perth to Canberra took nearly a year because Clinton didn’t like walking. He liked the nice hotels that Go Funding money could buy. He rarely slept in a tent and when he did was miserable. 

The Spirit Walker might be a brave warrior on paper, says Gary, but that all crumbled when a wild donkey decided to join him on the walk on the way to the Northern Territory desert. 

Not only was he suffering intense dehydration, ‘and about to die of thirst, he was now up against a wild inquisitive donkey who only wanted to say hello.’ 

‘Help me,’ he yelled out. ‘We told him to get back in the car, where he’d be safe. When the donkey left, we let the brave spirit walker out of the car to continue his walk. In the early days he was doing about 40 to  50 kilometres a day. He was committed back then. By the time we reached Uluru, the spirit walker became the lazy walker. He had lost his drive. We were in trouble. The people giving donations demanded an explanation. We couldn’t just say that he enjoyed chain smoking in nice hotel rooms.’ 

But that’s not saying we didn’t want too. 

Coming back from Canberra, I was given $1500 from Clinton’s slush fund. It was to support four people and one cars. That was the reward I got for driving him around Australia. If it wasn’t for the donations I received along the way, me and my car would still be on the East Coast. Leading up to the arrival in Canberra, Clinton did a few more Go Fund me to fly over the online team and some elders from the West Coast. He already had over $30 000 in funds. Why wasn’t there enough money to cover their flights, which I thought was excessive?

Because of greed. 

He had won the public over and he was taking all the cash he could get. I witnessed other followers who joined the walk later on carrying petrol cards. Wads of them. Clinton couldn’t even give me a few to get home. But his Walk for Justice Jack Come Latelies were able to cash in on the walk, proclaiming they had started out since Perth. Clinton even pushed for having John’s dog as the official ambassador for the walk. 

Jack  started the walk in Cabbage Tree in Victoria . A white guy, he became mates with Bropho who joined the walk in Sydney. There, they conspired to ruin our good names. 

‘I’m into it for everything I can get.’ 

‘I’ll milk this gravy train for all it’s worth,’ says Jack, in his fifties, who wore bottle glasses. And that he did. Before I left Canberra, he had about 100 petrol coupons in his wallet. He didn’t give a fuck about the walk. He was out for himself. 

I deny that Bret and John wanted to cut off  Jack’s toes.  They made have joked about it. But it didn’t deter Jack who had been tagging along with us since Victoria.  

Jack even started a Go Fund me for his dog. He wanted to cash in on the walk too. 

They accused us of taking drugs and forcing Clinton to walk with a cricket bat. A slight exageration. They really wanted Bret out, a friend of ours who started the walk with us in Perth. He would meet up with us later on in Northern Territory. He not only supplied another car for the convoy but paid for most of the bills. Without him, we wouldn’t have made it to Canberra. Then there  was Steve and his wife who donated cash earlier on the walk and met up with us in Uluru. Clinton cut them off too. He cut off anyone when they had no use for him. He was ruthless like that. He was the Spiritual Walker out of fuck off anyone who had nothing to contribute to his own slush fund. 

Lies, lies and more of them. By the time they had reached Canberra, I mean Clinton and his cronies, I had distanced myself from him. We were not on talking terms. But we had no idea what Clinton had planned for us. He had to turn the cards around. We weren’t around to monitor his walk. We couldn’t guarantee that he’d finish it. And Clinton used that to his advange. He not only deceived us but he deceived the public. He never finished the walk. He cut it short by fifty kilometers so he could get back to his expensive hotel and fuck the love of his life. 

Spectators were waiting for Clinton on the highway. They never got to see him. He didn’t walk the last fifty kilometere. Why? He not only let himself down, he let down his followers who funded the walk. That was never reported in the press. Every State we’d arrive in, we’d take a photo of the sign. That didn’t happen as we left NSW and arrived to Canberra. The online support crew covered it with  lies when they were asked about it. Lies lies and more of them. That’s what the walk was based on. And I’m here to tell you about it. 

‘

Steve and his wife spent four days with us on the Great Central Road, Docker River.

In Perth, they helped the homeless. But when their cash ran out, Clinton abandoned them.

Camel tracks. Near Worborton. Tri State border. All the photos I took on my phone. 

At Land Council. 

Yarl Kutjarra. 

Spinfex country. Used to keep the dust out. 

Penis rock. I got in trouble for putting a picture of it on Facebook, it’s a sacred thing. 

That was after I hit the camel. A broken windscreen. 

The guy at Warnan replaced it for me, along with giving me a spare for the car. 

Cisco, delivers to the grocery shops all around, he spotted us and campd for the night. 

Noonie didn’t take fuck all photos to begin with. He only got serious later on. I was taking all my photos off my phone. 

That’s what it looked like when I was driving for a few days. If I smashed the windscreen, all the dust would have came in. 

A mural and WIngalina, it was a story of two women who use to walk that way. 

A roadhouse camped in Warboton, there were peacocks. 

A dingo in Warakuna. We got taken to a sacred site and it was in one of the waterholes. 

Art center in Warboton. 

Blackstone Store 

Every hill has a story, Dockor River was one. 

Dead camel. It’s the one I hit. 

Bush turkey, what we got it given to us  for dinner. That was Jamerson. 

Artwork.

The woman have to do four hours a day working for the dole. They get a percentage for their sold artwork. 

Bret went back before Christmas in Uluru 

I met Steve before Koogardie. But I met Bret in Doctor River, about thirty K’s out. 

He knew us through Facebook. And he just wanted to be part of it. But his motive was about the Constitution and he was slowly educating me as we were traveling together. He and John were working together and needed an audience to hand over the papers to the media. But that little cunt Clinton … I didn’t nothing. 

You can see how good the wind was by the way the flags were flying. 

Sacred Caves outside Dockor River. 

Penis picture I took was outside the airport. I got a message on Facebook saying you better take that picture down , ‘or there would be a lot of trouble.’ 

Next service

Yularra 231 kms, that’s after we left Dockor River. 

Impanpa Community 

Bret stayed with us from Dockor to Illuru , stayed there with us a for a while. Must have been a week. 

That’s what the trailer looked like. 

Traditional owner, Reggie and Casidy. 

Clinton says he was given a stone by Reggie from Uluru. But he didn’t. He asked for it. That’s the big difference. Another lie that went into the newspapers. 

Moulten sculptor, a burnt out Toyota lands cruiser with all the molten medal stuck under it. We put it on the back of the trailer. 

I took the car through the desert roads. Most people wouldn’t dare do it without a four wheel. I was told we wouldn’t make it. But we did. 

Kulpi out at Laserador Cave. Lasater's reef. It was the cave he was holed up in. And outside, all he had to dig was down the hole on the waterbed and he’d have water. 

Lessertors Cave was in Territory after Dockor river. 

Going thru Territory during rainy season. It got a bit wet. See!

That’s nice, our first sighting of the Olgers. And first sighting of Uluru. Both times it was raining. 

When you look down from the top of Uluru, the tour busses look like dinky toys. It’s 11000 feet. 

The rock brings in hundreds of millions of dollars a year and the community who live on the end of it live in poverty. 

Never heard Clinton talk about that?

He might have. 

It takes all day to walk around it. 

See that right-hand shadow, it’s the trail to the top, called manga ant 

It’s our free camel rider in Ulara. 

I took a few panoramic shots. 

That’s where we were staying. The brain, they call it, that section around Uluru. 

Mutitijulu , that’s the Iuru community live in poverty. It’s where Reggie lives in the age care centre. Bret went home after this photo. 

Reggie’s father was the last Blackman shot at the end of the rock. They use to shoot the black fellows. 

Curtain Springs. 

Sex. Now that we have your attention. No shirt No service. 

It’s the only place you can buy alcohol. 

It’s between Stewart Hightway and Uluru. 

That’s Mt. Connor, past Curtain Springs. 

Imampa, another community in the territory. 

Ashwin Park, named after my great grandmother partner, Arthur Crambook Ashwin. He discovered gold mines in Kalgoorlie, funded his adventures through gold mining. Was from Cornwall. Prospecting across the country. And when he got old, settled in Waloona and started a few stations. We still got one of them now. 

Apulua Weather Forecasting Stone 

Stone jumping up and down ( earthquake) 

Stone is wet (condition) rain (forecast 

Apu

‘High There.’ What’s that sign. I was high off my fucking head. How did they know I was coming. 

King Goon Ya, it’s where we met the horse. It took off my cap and drank my booze.

Lenny, donated cash to Clinton, on way to Glendambough, the pub. He handed Clinton $200 cash. He wouldn’t walk. So I decided to go out to … happened to be Alison’s birthday. It was after lunch and we got back  at one in the morning. That’s Valerie Cox, she was born under that tree. 

Couldn’t do much in Woomera. Was only museums to see. Old rockets. SA is a military state by the looks of things. 

All you can do is drive and go shopping. Nothing else to do. 

Cooper Peddy. Dug out caves and accommodation. 

Fifty degrees outside and inside cave, a mild temperature. 

That’s out with Deno, can’t see water every which way you look then you look down and see water. It’s on sacred ground. I got some flint rock from there. Put away. 

Flintstones for making tools all along that ridge. 

Rangers look like same rangers of Baxter near Port Augusta. 

Seven Sister, a lot of story changes as you go cross country. 

I saw lots of coppers on the trip. Only got breathalyzer once. 

Five hundred dollar a night room at Hyatt in Canberra and a 200 dollar room service bill he posted on Instagram. 

Ok, how much much Auntie, Clinton’s missus said she heard it twice. 

PA

He said he had no cash. This was when we were in PA. Me and Nonie were waiting. I hadn’t signed up for the dole yet. When I did, I wouldn’t tell Clinton. It meant I could leave any time I wanted too. I never told Clinton that. 

I went around to see Steve Atikins. Clinton was next door with that McKnenzie chick. She had five kids. They were all riding new scooters. I heard they were eating take away and Clinton bought the new love of his life some new shoes. It was wrong. So I called up Luke in Perth to ask for the statements of every withdrawal on the Go Fund me. Luke said he couldn’t do it because Clinton was in charge of it. I knew something wasn’t right. He was spending the funding that suppose to be for the walk on this woman h e had met in Port Augusta. 

I don’t like liars. This was the first time Clinton had deceived us. I continued the walk. I was enjoying it so why not. Besides, I got more fucks than Clinton. I mean new fucks. He was with the same till the end of the walk. How much of the funds siphoned off to her is anyones guess. 

So Port Augusta was a real eye opener for us. Being at the mercy of Clinton was something I wasn’t into it. I got back on the dole as a cultural journey. 

C’s just a little germ who wants to be famous. He even wrote on his FB wall saying to his grandmother that he wanted to be famous. 

He told me his phone got caught on fire. He threw it in the car and I kept it. It wasn’t broken, only a cracked screen. It’s got his conversations with his ex wife of five years. 

I didn’t get the phone until Canberra. I couldn’t get  into the closed in trailer loaned to us. They  ganged up on me and  I spent most of the time hiding in the Tent Embassy. Every cunt ganged up on me, especially Jack, Bropho and Clinton. I was the fucker who got them there. I was stuck in the middle between Bret and John and Clinton and Noonie. 

( Later Clinton would say that Bret had stole it. I called Clinton and said he’d tow it back. He towed it from Adelaide and would bring it back. They actually towed it from Port Augusta to Adelaide for us.) 

He fucked Keralee on the first night. 

Besides, I  was following the footsteps of my ancestors.

Stories flash before me. The journey is the destination. Forgive my detour here. 

We first met Peter the German in Uluru who was riding around Australia.

He had stomach cancer and had most of it cut out. 

He said fuck it to his business and bought a push bike and decided to ride across Australia. 

He gave me a didjeridu. 

He’d get tired and just pull up on the side of the road and sleep on the side of the road. When I saw him he had just woken up and was covered in red dust. You wouldn’t think he was a rich bloke.

At Mount Ebenezer Roadhouse caught up with him again. 

He wanted to see Clinton walk. It was about 7 in the morning.

Clinton was still in bed so the German knocked on the door. ‘Get the fuck out of here and start walking,’ he said, ‘and stop letting the people down.’ 

He then handed me a bullwhip and said to whip the fucking cunt if he doesn’t walk.