Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
with rocks as a form of exercise. They shook their heads and muttered something about
rocks in my head as they sped off. I soon changed my course that to one took me partly into
the country and through a lovely, green park. I never saw the cops again.
Our new friends on the river included the American couple that we had met earlier at the
Burnett River mouth. They would come over sometimes and relax in our spacious cockpit
in the sun. He would always bring his guitar, and we would be captivated with his amazing
dexterity and advanced guitar techniques. Heavily coaxed, I would bring out my guitar and
shyly play what little I knew. I was very envious of his ability and wanted to learn from
him. He was very kind and understanding and, while his sweet wife beamed proudly on,
he endeavored to give me tips and show me new chords and finger picking ways. He took
the trouble to record some instructional tapes and copy the literature that went with them;
I was introduced to a form of bluegrass and ragtime guitar picking. I would spend hours in
the boat alone sweating over these instructional aides, and he would come over to check on
me from time to time. I was improving, and he was the first to say so, offering me encour-
agement.
Gavin and I would go out to the Royal Hotel on a Friday night and listen to the local rock
band. They were very good and the lead singer, who worked at the local steel mill during
the week, was a good-looking, young man who had a following of adoring girls. Gavin and
I would sit at a large table with the river rats and thoroughly enjoy the music, the company,
the beers, and all the pretty Australian girls. In a strange way, I couldn't help noticing that
the men and women in Bundaberg seemed to all look the same, as though one big family!
I had noticed two barmaids who worked in shifts at the hotel. Every time I went up to the
counter to order a round of drinks one of them would willingly take my order. The one
lady was older than I by far, but she had a serene beauty that would adorn her all the years
of her life. She was soft-spoken, quick to smile, and always conducted herself like a true
blue-stocking lady. I offered to draw her portrait one night, and she beamed in pleasure.
She duly gave me her photo the next weekend and I spent a long time perfecting the pastel
drawing. She was thrilled with it, and, although I did not ask her for any money, she gave
me a hundred dollars. I had really wanted a date with her, and, when I asked her if she was
married, she grinned broadly, pinching my surprised cheek and smiling so sweetly told me
she was very flattered but had a wonderful man who owned a fishing trawler. I was very
disappointed.
I next turned my attention to the younger barmaid, who was also very pretty, having long,
dark hair that fell in a glowing coil around her lantern jaw face. She had beautiful, even,
white teeth and a stunning body that could not be disguised in the black skirt and stockings
with the white blouse that the bar ladies had to wear. Again, I drew her portrait, as word
