The place, Halls Gap.
The year, 2004.
My parents had been in the land Down Under for less than two weeks. Having exhausted the tourist attractions in Melbourne my girlfriend, parents and I decided to embark on a road trip down the Great Ocean Road and the Grampaians.
We ooed at the ocean and ahhed at koalas. We fondled plants in an overtly sexual manner in the Otway rainforest and went skinny dipping in a far too non-overtly sexual manner in Port Fairy.
Well, my dad did.
My mother, girlfriend and I decided against such frivolity. But my dad has always had an element of the rogue about him. Think of him as the love child of literary greats Heathcliff, Jack Sparrow and Piglet.
As such, what happened that night in Halls Gap came as no surprise to me.
After dinner my girlfriend and I went for a walk. I’d never been to the Grampians so she pointed out all the historical and cultural areas of significance.
She thrilled me with tales of Charles Browning Hall and his quest for a suitable grazing run before amazing me with the yoyo-ing adventures of the town’s Post Office and then nonchalantly informed me that this was all Wikipedia had on Halls Gap before distracting my attention with a well-timed Kangaroo.
It was as we watched this Kangaroo that news began filtering through of a dare-devil British tourist that sounded remarkably like my father.
Always quick to act we moseyed at a leisurely pace the two kilometres back to the hostel where we found my father standing heroically by the side of the road.
Given I did not witness the event, I only have my father’s word for what happened:
Your mother and I were out on our walk when we saw something move out of the corner of our eyes. At first, we thought it was a bunyip so whipped out the camera to catch a shot of this elusive creature.
The moment I focussed the lens I realised it wasn’t a bunyip, but an echidna beginning to cross the road. The second I realised this I was blinded by the high-beams of an oncoming Humvee headed straight for the poor animal.
I had to act.
Thrusting my camera into your mother’s hands I bolted toward the echidna but immediately realised I wasn’t going to reach it in time. I grabbed an overhanging vine and swung across the road at a greater speed. Unfortunately it wasn’t an overhanging vine, but a snake!
My hands lost their grip on it’s slippery scales and I fell into the path of the oncoming Humvee. The driver obviously hadn’t seen what was happening and with the echidna about to be crushed I grabbed the snake and whipped it toward the helpless creature.
Given my time spent as a cowboy I was able to lasso the animal harmlessly and pulled it from the oncoming tyre just in the nick of time.
Hugging the animal close, and with scant regard to my safety, I flattened against the road moments before the Humvee was to hit. The echidna was obviously shaken and the snake somewhat stirred by this beast of a vehicle interrupting their evening, but fortunately they – and I – were unscathed as it passed us overhead.
I rose, shook my fist at the moron of a driver and released the animals back into the wild where I’m sure they’ll be the best of friends.
Now, as I said, my dad is a cross between a variety of roguish dark heroes so can imagine him doing all of the above, however…
I personally believe he and my mother noticed an echidna, squeed, and then realised a car was coming. My father took a few slow steps into the road and successfully managed to stop the car to allow the echidna to cross the road safely. After this, he and my mother pursued the animal in order to take a few photographs of this most beautiful of creatures to show the family back home.
Whatever happened, my father was (potentially) nearly killed trying to save a rare breed of Australian wildlife – and for that he should be praised.
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