Story Archive
- THREE GENTLE STORIES IN THE AGE OF TRUMP
- THE STAGE - FINALLY I AM ON IT
- BROKEN
- THE ROAD
- THE WEIGHT OF THINGS
- RANDOM THOUGHTS AND ACHING BONES
- FOOD GLORIOUS FOOD
- Vale Tommie
- A BIG WALK - Step by Step
- IN DEFENCE OF NIMBIN
- SLEEPING WITH THE ANGELS
- THE LADY BUSHRANGER
- OUT OF THE SHIRE
- THE SOUND OF RAIN
- AND SO IT BEGINS - The Great Australian Crawl.
- NO MANS LAND
- THE FROG IN THE TOILET BOWL
- LEN BENCE - THE ARTIST WARRIOR
- SWAGMAN IN SEARCH OF A CONCEPT
- THE GERMAN ABORIGINAL
- NOT LONG NOW
- LOTS OF THINGS COMING
- DAD'S COMING
- THE BEING LEFT ALONE FEELING
- YES - I STOLE THE CHOCOLATE
- THE OLD COAT
- THE PARTY
- MEMORIES
- DOG WALKING IN A CEMETERY
- MY KENNEL IS GOING UNDER THE HAMMER!
- DAD'S BACK
- THE BIG CHILL
- THINGS HAPPEN THAT YOU DON'T KNOW WILL HAPPEN
- THE NEW KENNEL
- ALFRED STIEGLITZ - THE ELOQUENT EYE
- AN IDEA FOR DINGO DAY!
- THE GARDENS OF STONE
- DON'T RAGE AGAINST THE DYING OF THE LIGHT!
- MOTHER'S DAY
- TODAY
- THE NIGHT LINDA JAIVIN DROPPED ME
- Old Nana
- SIMPATICO
- Nuggets
- THE WUFFINGTON POST-2
- C-C-C-C-CHANGES
- THE WUFFINGTON POST-1
- MAKE MY DAY
- A NEW YEARS DAY LIKE ANY OTHER!
- RECIPES FROM OLD SOULS
- A DOG'S CHRISTMAS
- Well this is Christmas!
- MY NEW BOOK IS COMING!
- OLD MAN - OLD GRIEF
- GOD - WHAT A FORTNIGHT WE'VE HAD
- WILLIAM-JAMES HAS ARRIVED
- CAESAR'S ISLAND
- I HAVE LOST MY EAR-ECTION
- BUSTED IN BOULIA
- YEE HAA! ITS THE HARTS RANGE RACE DAY
- TRULY ... THERE WERE ANIMALS EVERYWHERE
- Old Man Hermann
- THERE IS AN ART TO BEGGING
- ROLL UP -- ROLL UP - ITS THE TRAVELING R&R SHOW
- MOLLY & ME
- EDITING A LIFE
- BUZZ ... BABBLE ... BUBBLE ... BURRA ... BACKHOUSE
- THE MAGIC KENNEL & ROAD TRAINS WITHOUT CATTLE
- I REALLY DON'T KNOW WHERE TO START
- CREATIVE DRIVES - BEAUTIFUL VOICES - MISSIONARY PLAINS.
- WHAT A WEEK WE'VE HAD
- I'VE GOT A MAN CRUSH ON BEN HALL
- GOING GOING GOING ..... GONE
- I LOVE WRITING ABOUT SNIFFING & EATING
- THE DIVING BELL & THE BUTTERFLY
- ROADIES, GERMANS & A JAPANESE ADVENTURER
- THE MAD DASH
- MY NEW COAT
- DOES DAD THINK I'M STUPID?
- THE ITALIAN PENTHOUSE
- I AM POWERLESS OVER COWS
- ON THE EDGE OF THE WORLD
- COMING HOME
- BLOG ON BLOGGING - THREE MONTHS WRAP
- ROLLING OVER
- CONTACT & THE DINGO
- SAD BUT BEAUTIFUL
- VICTORY WITHOUT TRIUMPH IN HAY
- ALISON HUNT - SENIOR DESERT WOMAN
- I AM NOT ANGRY - JUST A LITTLE DISSAPOINTED
- HOLIDAY WITH THE CHOOKS
- EAGLE HAWK NECK
- MAX IN HAHNDORF
- WHAT ABOUT THE HANDSOME PEOPLE?
- DRUGS & RADISHES
- MY NAME is TOM AND I AM AN OVER EATER
- BOGGED AND STRANDED
- BUTT NAKED IN MORGAN
- ON THE ROAD AGAIN
- The CHEF, the ABORIGINALS, the BLOND & the BULL
- A SADHU OF THE OUTBACK
- CONDOMS & BIRD SEED
- TOMMIE, STEVE AND KIRA
- ADELAIDE AND BACK
- GUNNING READY OR NOT
- AN IDEA IS ANSWERED
- TOMMIE
VICTORY WITHOUT TRIUMPH IN HAY

Raymond
Hay NSW







Hay is situated half way along an old stock route called the Long Paddock that stretches from Echuca in Victoria to Wilcannia in New South Wales. It is a town with a history of welcoming travelers. Shearers arrived seasonally and swagmen intermittently.
During the Second World War trains unloaded hundreds of German Jews who, having escaped from the Nazis to England, were transported across the world to the outback town as enemy aliens. Sanity finally prevailed after Winston Churchill's intervention and the Dunera Boys were released to fight Hitler both in the Australian and British forces.
As with most of the outback's stock routes and train lines, the Long Paddock follows a traditional Aboriginal walking trail that relied on the most precious of outback resources, water.
Water is what held Tommie and I here three weeks ago. We were trapped by the outflow from the Darling and the Murrumbidgee Rivers. We couldn't go north through Broken Hill or south past Deniliquin.
Upstream Wagga Wagga was in crisis and the same Murrumbidgee waters were expected in Hay a week or so later.
Hay is so flat that handbreaks are redundant. When it floods the water spreads like butter on a hot pancake.
The landscape does not invite extravagance of any kind. If the level of anxiety in the town was rising with the river it was not noticeable. Like water to lime, floods have cemented communities like Hay together, adding strength to the collective spirit.
I have always stayed a few days here when I'd intended only one. The sky is so big, so blue. The Wok in Hay does a great noodle dish. Actually it does a great pizza and fish and chips as well. The owners, John and Lon, remember Tommie and I from previous trips. It's nice.
During that visit I met old Jeff and Ray who scream around in their geriatric-mobiles and have lived in Hay all their lives. When Jeff says something he adds "isn't that right Ray." When Ray makes a point "isn't that right Jeff" concludes his sentence. They were excited about the flood coming. It is an event.
So when I arrived back this week and heard the town had weathered the flood I expected a buoyant atmosphere. It wasn't. At the Wok in Hay John explained why.
The community had prepared for the flood by strengthening the levee that surrounds the town. It proved to be a formidable barrier with three feet of embankment spare after the river peaked.
But victory over the river lacked a sense of triumph. As the waters approached so too did the S.E.S, the State Emergency Services, enforcing total control over the town, over people who had seen everything the river could do. They brought in their own caterers, helicopters and air conditioning units. They evacuated locals who would have once passed sandbags to each other or cooked meals through the night for their neighbours. As a kid John had been one of the Bank Men who monitored the rising waters.
Says John, 'kids are being taught to leave" when a threat approaches. In fact the S.E.S handed out lovely new sleeping bags if they got evacuated, some lining up three times for a bag valued at $130 a pop.
I have always marveled at the strength of communities to bond in a crisis. It becomes part of the town's folklore and collective soul.
The people of Hay, or at the least the ones I spoke to, saw the C.E.S intrusion as an attack on the town's autonomy.
The levee, built by the community with good local clay, withstood the flood. According to John, the C.E.S now want to remove and rebuild it because their engineers weren't involved. It can't be relied upon they say. Yep, that's the levee that worked.
The people eating the various cuisines at the Wok in Hay all had the same message. That the town's integrity had been violated. God only knows what Jeff would have thought. Isn't that right Ray.