Always on the way to new destinations
At Warri Gate we meet Beth and Gary. That does not sound remarkable, but it is. Because this gate is a wire gate between Queensland and New South Wales and is as "way out back" in the Australian hinterland as possible: 327 kilometers of runway from the 200-soul Kaff Thargomindah. A border without tree or kiosk. For this, a high fence extends to the left and right to the horizon, which locks wild dogs on or off. "Please shut the gate," warns a sign.
For hours, my favorite travel companion and I have seen a lot of dust and lots of emus, but neither human nor car. But just as I close the door in this endless nothingness, a Land Rover honked. "How are you, folks?", Shout two voices. "Beth & Gary on tour" reveals the sticker on the radiator. Of course, they go out for a chat, Gray Nomads like the two good-humored mid-sixties are rarely in a hurry.
The label "gray" they owe their hair color, they are called nomads, because they are difficult to keep - especially not at home, where they could comfortably sit out their retirement. Sooner or later, those who travel in Australia are guaranteed to meet one of them, because Gray Nomads now have a chronic travel bug. The best medicine on the other hand: They make the caravan afloat and follow their wanderlust.
At home they only stay as long as necessary to plan the next tour and have a look at the children and grandchildren. Alright? Well, fine! And off we go: east to the Great Barrier Reef and then up to Cooktown in the rainforest or to Broome in the northwest, where red rocks almost reach into the Indian Ocean.
The main thing is that you do not have to cut the hedge at home.
Enviable, these explorers, who have the professional life behind them and an adventure ahead of them: they circle their own huge continent - 20,000 kilometers of gravel and asphalt, the coast on one side and the width of the outback on the other. Detours into the interior? Good as well. The main thing is that you do not have to cut the hedge at home.
Australia's notorious "Tyranny of Distances," as the locals call the vast distances in sparsely populated Down Under? For Gray Nomads not an issue, or if, then no longer, that bothers, but flies: to always new tours, more distant destinations, such as the Warri Gate.
Whether there is room at the "Dead Horse Gully" campsite, ask Beth and Gary, who once worked as a pharmacist, and how the cell phone reception is there. We shrug. Hm, we can not help it, our phones are silent for days. We enjoy the whole-way feeling. For us it is a luxury not to charge our cell phones. However, we only have two weeks left. And a tent instead of a caravan - in contrast to all the gray nomads, who are much more comfortable on the way. After all, according to statistics, more than two-thirds of the approximately 350,000 "recreational vehicles" in the country belong to people over 55, and about 80,000 such recreational companions permanently roll over the continent. They are controlled by "adventure-seeking pensioners", as they like to be called by magazines specially invented for them, or early dead, the "early retirees", which in Australia, by the way, no trace pity - more like someone who earlier than others for has decided more fun.
Some have a third-hand motor home, while others spend € 200,000 on their wheeled villa with TV, sofa and solar shower. Some can not imagine anything more frightening than spending 24 hours a day alone with the person they've been married to for 30 years, setting out in columns, meeting old ones or making new friends. Some set real mileage records in three months, some dragging around for years. The very determined never even return and sell their house - much to the chagrin of potential heirs.
Still others seek more sense than recreation. For example, in Milparinka, a tiny nest where more than 160 years ago explorer Charles Sturt's inland expedition ended, 58-year-old Sally and three friends parked their caravans behind two old sandstone buildings, where they set up a museum. Last year, Sally, a former teacher, told her that she helped a farmer's family who had been in need of an accident. Next year she wants to save turtles at Cape York. Cape York? Really? Up to there, it is for the good soul from Adelaide about 4500 kilometers, about as far as from Kiel to Lagos and back. Sally raises her eyebrows as if to say, "What are a few weeks or months on the road? "There are enough goals and opportunities", she finally laughs.
Also via the Internet, Australia's retirees
To find both, just a few mouse clicks are enough.Gray Nomads may be more mature, but yesterday they are not: many jet through the internet as safely as they do on the highways, they have their own websites, they chat in online forums, and the Sallys check out wirelessly, whether somewhere in the world close to their use is asked. On the net, they will find out which trailer eats how much fuel, how deep the potholes are on the Gibb River Road and whether wildflowers are already blooming in the west.
A few hours after our encounter at the Warri Gate, Gary and Beth, with their flat trailer, are barking over the red dust of the campsite. While Beth conjures a two-burner stove from a drawer in the rear, Gary routinely puts some levers into action. There are noises, hinges click, and not five minutes later, a stately residential tower has unfolded above the trailer. With two more grips, Gary connects the satellite dish and the laptop, and they chat over a cup of tea with their daughter in Melbourne.
We are amazed. "Actually," I whisper, "they live in the bush like home, and even salt and pepper are probably in the same place." - "That's right," says Beth, as I cautiously question her about sunset beer. "We also enjoy a few nice aspects of everyday life on the go, only the unpleasant ones that we avoid - for example, the neighbors are on the alarm clock," she pinches a grinning grin, "then we pack up and move on."
