Tropicana Nov-Dec 2017 #116 Celebrating the Classics

THE SWING
HOLE 4: WOMBAT HOLE
the Southern Ocean pounds an elemental beat upon the
rocks. Further along at Eucla, chimneys and brick arches
emerge from giant sand dunes as nature reclaims what was
once Australia’s busiest telegraph station.
Like the barely-changing scenery, the holes on the golf
course begin to blend together. I hack my way down craterous
fairways and out of unyielding scrub, all the while taking an
eternity to get the measure of the synthetic greens.
The game ends in Kalgoorlie, a boomtown where gold
mining has long made this a place where people come to seek
their fortune. While the downturn in Australia’s mining
industry has brought an end to the days when the city had
more millionaires per square metre than any other place in Oz,
it is still a palpably prosperous place.
The temporary mine workers who roll in for a few
months to boost their bank accounts create a particularly
lively atmosphere. The city is blessed with a roughhewn,
Wild West charm. Local bars are famous for their ‘skimpies’
– waitresses who work in their underwear – and the main
drag (road) could easily serve as a shoot-out scene in a classic
cowboy movie. After completing my round, I enjoy a steak
dinner fit for a sheriff on the cantilevered balcony at the
Palace Hotel, a classic from the early days of the gold rush.
The temporary mine workers who
roll in for a few months to boost
their bank accounts create a
particularly lively atmosphere. The
city is blessed with a roughhewn,
Wild West charm. Local bars are
famous for their ‘skimpies’
Perth, in contrast, is the epitome of a modern
Australian city. After four days of petrified landscapes and
otherworldly emptiness, it’s a relief to see healthy trees and
people. But over dinner and drinks that night, my thoughts
can’t help but return to the Nullarbor. Could the contours
of the land have been put to better use? Would draining
less cold beer between holes have made a difference to my
game? Perhaps I’ll be back to test these theories out one
day. But 1000-plus kilometres is a lot of ground to cover
– especially when you are playing badly. So for now, I’m
happy to be back in the sanctity of civilisation and well out
of range of death adder country.
63 NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 2017 | TM