Hell is Hay (and other travelling tales)

DRIVING to South Australia is an adventure at any time - a 15+-hour journey across the heartland of NSW and SA. Taking a baby only magnifies the difficulties involved, but it's doable (Helen and I did it once before in August)...you just have to allow TWO days for the trip.


But this past weekend was a doozy. Sure, it's the middle of summer - which can normally be a real nuisance - but it's been unusually cool so far this season, so that wasn't a real concern.

Rather, we were worried about the severe weather warnings we saw on the TV news on Thursday night. Thunderstorms, heavy rain and strong winds were anticipated across NSW on Saturday. I'd NEVER heard such a crazy forecast in my life. I mean, these storms were supposed to be widespread throughout the state!


We missed most of the bad weather until we reached Wagga Wagga on Friday afternoon to visit my brother. The storm hit hard while we were there. Being a meteorologist, my brother recommended we stay the night, but we had plans to reach Narrandera before nightfall. It was only another hour in broad daylight - how hard could it be?


Well, as it turned out, it was quite hard although not as hard as it could've been. The rain was pelting down, but we seemed to bypass the worst of the thunder and lightning. Sure, the heavy cloud cover meant night came about two hours earlier than normal (who knew the longest day of the year would actually wind up being one of the shortest?). Luckily, the heavy rain kept the kangaroos away from the road and we didn't encounter any on our drive. We reached Narrandera safely and settled in at the nearest motel for the night.


The next morning saw the rain gone but the clouds still hanging around. As we drove along the Hay Plain towards Hay we also noticed there was water EVERYWHERE, generally pooled in paddocks that now resembled flooded rice paddies (kinda ironic as rice is a major crop in this area).


We were quite grateful to have missed the brunt of Mother Nature's fury. Of course, we would've been even more grateful if we'd managed to miss Hay as well.


For those of you who've never had the misfortune of driving through Hay, let me sum the town up with the well-worn expression, "It is the arsehole of Australia." Hay is about 170km from Narrandera to the east and about 130km from Balranald to the west. In between, there's nothing. Not literally nothing. There's a ton of Hay Plain, some crops (mostly rice) and and a bunch of 'roos. Other than that, nothing.


I assume the worst job in the world is being a tourism officer based in Hay. God, talk about slash-your-wrist time. There is nothing appealing about Hay. Travellers stop there only because they have to: to fill up on petrol or food, or to seek a motel room for the night. No-one willingly stops in Hay to take in the sights (mainly 'cos there are none).


The people of Hay are a bitter, unfriendly, unsmiling, quite possibly inbred bunch of fuckwads and losers. We have never had a pleasant time stopping in Hay...which you're forced to do on long drives from Sydney to Adelaide and back (if you choose to take the "short route" via the Hay Plain).


No-one smiles - hospitality is a forgotten word. The food is shithouse, the service is worse. The people of Hay walk round with an air of quiet desperation - they clearly wish they could live ANYWHERE ELSE than the hellhole that is Hay. But they can't - they're trapped there, so they take it out on tourists by being hostile, moronic, redneck cunts. Fuck Hay and fuck every fucking fucker who lives there. We couldn't leave quick enough.


After our Hay-ish nightmare, the rest of the trip was a breeze. Long, tiring but okay. And after all that rain, who woulda thought the biggest weather problem we'd face would be DUST STORMS? But we encountered several along the way, whipped up by the high winds.

Jones held up really well considering she was stuck in a baby capsule for 10 hours.


Anyway, things were fine until we decided to take the Loxton-to-Murray Bridge route for the last few hours of our journey (as it was the most convenient way to get to Helen's parents in Adelaide's eastern suburbs). I knew we had a few hours of daylight left and I hoped to reach Murray Bridge (and the motorway) before dusk, thereby avoiding the 'roos. I almost made it.

The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon when a small kangaroo bounded in front of our car. That was the end of my relaxed 110km/h cruising - I drove the last 30-odd kays into Murray Bridge at a sedate 60-80km/h. I wasn't going to risk sideswiping another of the pesky vermin. Helen and I constantly scanned both sides of the road in case a roo suddenly made an appearance. Luckily, they didn't and we reached Murray Bridge without further incident.

As we drove over the bridge that gives Murray Bridge its name, we were greeted by delightful "White Power" graffiti. What a wonderful welcome for visitors - really makes you want to stay the night in the town.

At this point, Jones began to wail and she didn't let up for the final hour of driving into Adelaide.

Ah, the joys of long-distance travelling.