As I waited to board the plane to Mt Isa, I watched the other passengers. It was so unusual seeing all of them chatting and friendly...they obviously knew each other. Most were dressed in a uniform of orange and navy blue Hi Viz work clothes and most of the men were six pick handles across the shoulders.
I was the odd person out. They all greeted each other by name. This was the commuter flight for the mine workers. They fly home every Friday night and spend the weekends with their families, then fly back every Monday morning.
I thought of my Dad who would have travelled for the best part of 3 days by rail from Brisbane to Mt Isa in the 1950s. No wonder he didn't come home often. These guys have got it easy. And so do their wives.
Sandwiched in between two hefty miners in the plane, I felt secure. I am not the calmest of flyers, so knowing these guys (and many girls) did this week in week out made me feel quite blase about the whole thing.
Flying into 'the Isa' gave me a good look at the barren, rocky landscape. As we descended I could see roads and creeks. Lower still, and I could see the occasional station. Red dirt, rocky escarpments, red roads like veins running through this rugged part of Australia.
Soon we could see Lake Moondarah and then we were landing at Mt Isa. Down the stairs and across the tarmac to the shed which is Mt Isa Airport. The friendly bunch milled around in the midday winter sunshine waiting for our luggage to be brought in. When it came, it was on a train similar to those you would see in a children's play area. Thankfully I saw some men in akubras.
Hello Mt Isa. Nice to see you again!
I was the odd person out. They all greeted each other by name. This was the commuter flight for the mine workers. They fly home every Friday night and spend the weekends with their families, then fly back every Monday morning.
I thought of my Dad who would have travelled for the best part of 3 days by rail from Brisbane to Mt Isa in the 1950s. No wonder he didn't come home often. These guys have got it easy. And so do their wives.
Sandwiched in between two hefty miners in the plane, I felt secure. I am not the calmest of flyers, so knowing these guys (and many girls) did this week in week out made me feel quite blase about the whole thing.
Flying into 'the Isa' gave me a good look at the barren, rocky landscape. As we descended I could see roads and creeks. Lower still, and I could see the occasional station. Red dirt, rocky escarpments, red roads like veins running through this rugged part of Australia.
Soon we could see Lake Moondarah and then we were landing at Mt Isa. Down the stairs and across the tarmac to the shed which is Mt Isa Airport. The friendly bunch milled around in the midday winter sunshine waiting for our luggage to be brought in. When it came, it was on a train similar to those you would see in a children's play area. Thankfully I saw some men in akubras.
Hello Mt Isa. Nice to see you again!
No comments:
Post a Comment