Here We Go Again - Chapter 87 - Broome Day 9

Perhaps it’s a night of sleeping in the wrong position, or an accumulation of driving, walking, and working hunched over a laptop on the van table (certainly it wouldn’t have been the scrambling over the rocks yesterday), but I have woken stiff and sore. 

Our travels have revealed several signs suggesting there are a few chiropractors here in Broome. Will we be able to find one with space in the appointment book (unlike the Toyota dealers) to alleviate my chronic requirements. Our two calls are vastly different. 

The first encounter is a practice with no real spots to be “fitted in” and in any event they will require X-rays etc. before they will touch the pain-affected areas, even though I offer to give them the number of my chiropractor’s back in Forster. Sounds like a bit of coercion between businesses looking to maximise potential incomes.

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The second, a newer practice with a young chiropractor looking to create patronage has spots available and is willing to see me immediately. Pearl Coast Chiropractic is on the road back into town, not far from Toyota. 

On the way to the appointment, I stopped at the oval where we had filmed the marketing material with the Bin Chickens a few days before. The adjacent school is starting to file across to the oval, where they are about to convene a sports carnival. The stoppage allows the very youngest of cohort children to head to the oval. 

Everything is orderly and one might expect to be travelling again quickly. Unfortunately, one of the youngsters recognises the driver of the first vehicle in the queue. What starts as a little wave becomes a throng of waving children as each and every one of them seems to recognise the driver. The teacher struggles to get them under control and continue to the park, much to the hysterical joy of the onlookers. I think no one is not taken aback by the goings-on.

The practice is fronted by one of those chatty receptionists. The ones that make a surgery a happy place rather than a mundae collection of chairs. Everyone who walks in, newbies like me or a regular, is engaged in lively conversation. Ours goes to what we are aiming to see, what we have seen and where we are heading. I talked about chasing dinosaur footprints a few days ago and she suggests there are “others”, easier to find and access all the time, not just at low tide.

She gives me the directions to find these footprints, and as she finishes, the young chiropractor is ready to see me. Dr. Harley has only just gone into practice. We talk extensively about my issues and he goes to work. By the time I leave, my back has freed up and my headache subsided. I set another appointment time before we are set to leave Broome as a precaution.

I head back to the park and work on a presentation with my business partner in Property Portfolio solutions, Shaun. Staff has drafted it somewhat but we need quite a bit of upgrading to get it to the level we want it for the upcoming webinar. It’s not long before we have it ready for tomorrow evening.

With my newfound knowledge of the positioning of the dinosaur footprints, it’s time to drag the others off on an exploration. It’s not much of exploration, the footprints themselves are adjacent to the boat ramps out at the point. This is a place we know very well having spent much time here last time we were in Broome.

In the car park there are many empty spots. Quite near the northern edge is a man sitting outside his parked motor home. As soon as he sees what we are looking for, he comes and shows us exactly what we are here to find. He is of French descent and revelling in the experience that is Australia. Waxing lyrically about being camped in the car park for over a week, he talks about provisioning as he needs.

The footsteps are unmistakably visible in the rocks. But there is much more here to see. Adjacent is rock walls containing caves and potential blowholes. They beg to be investigated fully. Wandering in and around, every turn seems to unveil another and different view. The colours of the rocks, create a myriad of palates that demand to be photographed. 

I look at a video driving down the boat ramp, onto the beach, and back up, but Robyn misses the opportunity and we head off back to Cable Beach for afternoon drinks.

It’s an important family day. 50 years ago a cousin of mine died on a football field in Grenfell. At 6.00 pm Eastern Standard Time, 4.00 pm here in Western Australia we are all charged with tipping a glass to Dennis Thornton. I record a video and get Robyn to take some photos of me at the appointed time doing what many others on my mother’s side of the family will be doing and will post as we honour our fallen cousin.

Dennis died playing football for his school. Evidently, he was tackled, falling on the ball, got up, played the ball and fell back to the ground, never to rise again. Perhaps it was a congenital heart defect, perhaps something else. All I knew was that his death rocked the family. My mother was beside herself with grief given one of her sisters had lost her first born. 

We are not put on this earth to bury our children.

The camel trains are coming in. They hold up the drivers wanting to get off the beach as they take over the driveway leading down to the beach. Rose and I take several shots of them, resplendent in their livery as they wend their way from the beach. Blue and red troops of colourful majesty as the horses of the desert, rather than being feral pests left by pioneers, repurposed as a tourist attraction.

The sun is beginning to set. As we walk across the grass verge in front of the Life Saving Club I encounter Chris from Harvey Norman, relaxing with friends. He is chatty, not just wanting to acknowledge Robyn and I. He introduces us to his girlfriend and the others with him, in time with the friendliness of his nature.

For the first time in a long time, I have no afternoon headache. The work of the chiropractor Dr. Harley has done well I think to myself. 

Rather than a big meal we drop into Xanders, pick a couple of entrees, accompany them with a Long Island Ice Teas and Pims for Robyn and that does us for dinner. It’s an easy fix, rather than after a big day out, having to come up with a meal, especially where the lack of forethought has seen nothing taken from the freezer.

Back at the van, we climb into bed and consider what we might get up to tomorrow.