Gold, Gold, Gold

Ned shovelling with a very large shovel!

I’ve never won a gold medal. It’s not a major disappointment in terms of life goals, but I can’t say it wouldn’t have been a nice thing to achieve at some stage. Plenty of mid pack results, and two firsts in 4 years of Little Athletics thanks only to Rohan Pike’s largesse; but never a gold medal. Who would have dreamt things were about to change?

 

We’d watched Pirates, Vikings, sailors and other strangely dressed Alice Springs types parade past us that morning in the Todd Mall. The kids had managed to avoid major injury scrambling amongst the floats and the sensibly shod grey nomads, gathering vast amounts of lollies that had been thrown about by the pirates and Vikings and sailors. Like the pied piper’s rats, they followed the trail of stale Tootsie Rolls to the dry riverbed of the Todd for the annual Henley-on-Todd regatta.

 

Bath tub race; Ivy in tub, Sara, Simone, Oli, and self running.

We got a seat on the hill in a prime position over the middle of the track and well shaded by the river gums. Jo, Pete, Summer and Ciara joined us and we watched a motley assortment of home-made “boats” straggle past. There’s no water in the Todd. The idea behind these races is that you run your boat up the river, around a bollard, and back to the start. Not too much more to it than that, and yes, it would be cruel to suggest the locals couldn’t cope with more than that.

 

Oli, Ned, Ivy and Summer  worked out pretty quickly that they were allowed to enter anything they wanted and that they still had opportunities to worsen their dental hygiene. Jo looked at the program and locked in sand shovelling as her time to shine. Ned was keen on that one too. I was interested in the race where you pretend to be a mouse in a spinning wheel. Pete was content to sit on the hill with Ciara.

 



Sled race dragging Ivy

The shovelling went off first. Sara was immediately sledged by the commentator for wearing a scarf, True, it would have been an O, H & S issue anywhere else in Australia, but we were in the Northern Territory, mate. It was far more likely to have been a fashion faux-pas. Lucky he didn’t spot the random socks. Jo worked like a dervish filling her drum, with her thighs now commanding the commentator’s attention. He must have known something because she won her heat from Sara by 3 shovelfulls and then was beaten into the final by the clock. Ned gave it a crack, but the fact that there he had clear ergonomic issues with the shovel made things a little tricky. I elected not to enter, being a little intimidated by the local tradies and their neon shirts. Shame Bill Fry wasn’t here, he would have made that misery stick sing.

 

Powering home to gold!

The main arena beckoned. We dragged Ivy up and stuck her in a bath tub. Some local nurses did a deal with us and so we swapped Ned for Simone the maternity nurse. We smashed them but still came second, just. We put Ivy on a toboggan and won our heat, but again missed the final by a couple of hundreds of a second. The day was turning into Australia’s recent Olympic campaign. Oli got a couple more seconds, and hopes were high for a medal in the 4 person kayak until Jo trod on Ned’s leg and hobbled him. The game bugger struggled through, but he was a few steps off top pace after that. Unfortunately, the crowd was getting restless and tired of excuses. They wanted winning times, not personal bests. They wanted people to win, not just try hard. They needed a hero. They needed someone to step up and take that gold medal.

 

I looked over at Pete, but he was still sitting on the hill, kind of like Ferdinand the Bull under a cork tree. It would have to be me. The one man kayak (K1) race was up next. I stepped into the not so light weight steel construction sponsored by Down Under Tours, and politely asked the big SES volunteer in front of me for directions. Then I told him to get out of my way. I don’t remember much more except for the Chariots of Fire music in my head and the roar as I crossed the line first with daylight second. Turned out the roar had nothing to do with me, there was a shovelling final going on. There was a roar a few moments later, from me at least, when it turned out that due to a lack of entrants, my K1 heat was the only K1 heat which made me K1 dry river bed world champion. Win a gold medal and a $100 drinks voucher at the dodgiest pub in town before I die, tick!

 

4 little not so scary vikings, Ned, Ivy, Summer, and Oli

As predicted, winning became the norm after that. We won five Viking helmets in a scream off and more lollies came the kids way in a river sand scramble. The day ended with a battle royale between the pirates, Vikings and sailors, at least it did once the navy boys were able to unbog their boat. Great show too with coloured sawdust bombs, water cannons, and flour bombs creating a hazy mist over the churned up river sand. The Vikings won for the second year running, but that’s no surprise, surely everybody wants to wear a hat with horns sticking out of it. I know I do, but only if I can wear my medal too.

 

H