Group Writing Project #6

Disclaimer: The characters of Trixie, Cap and Mart Belden, Tank and Diana Lynch are the property of Golden Press/Whitman. I am just borrowing them for this GWP.

Thanks to Zap for extending the deadline on this project.

Mart and the Yowie

by Kellie

 

Martin Belden was driving his hire car along the highway, keeping one eye on the signs as they passed him, to check he was on the right road. Unlike driving in the U.S., highways in Australia were poorly marked and he'd ended up on many a wrong road, as a consequence. The locals seemed to understand the system, but unfortunately he wasn't a local.

Mart, 24, was in the third semester of his Masters degree. His supervisor had recommended that he travel out of the U.S. to conduct more research for his thesis, and he'd remembered that his lecturers at Texas A&M had contacts in Brisbane, Australia. Mart had completed a science degree, majoring in agricultural management at Texas A&M. After he'd finished his bachelor degree, he'd started working in upstate New York, before going back to grad school to get his masters. His girlfriend, Di, had remained in New York, while he'd flown to the other side of the world. He missed her keenly. Still, it was only for six months, and so far three had flown by quickly.

He had been enjoying his time in Australia. After flying into the Australian winter, spring was just starting to show its face and he was glad of the change. Even if Brisbane was nothing like Sleepyside in winter, with no snow, and no bitterly cold weather, it had its moments. He recalled the cold days that had occurred the week in August the locals referred to as, 'Ekka week'. Ekka translated had become the Royal National Exhibition. In other words it was the Brisbane agricultural show. And as his Australian colleagues had informed him, Ekka was always accompanied by 'westerlies'.

'I'm beginning to think these people have lost their use of the Queen's English,' thought Mart as he drove, knowing that if he expressed such an opinion he was likely to get a sarcastic remark from someone. For the most part, young Australians had little time for the link Australia shared with Great Britain and the royal family. However for every anti-royal in the community, there was probably a pro-royal, secretly or not so secretly, demonstrating their attachment to Australia's colonial past. In any case, the use of the word 'westerlies' referred to the cold westerly winds that blew off the interior of Australia during winter, where the evenings were extremely cold. 'Westerlies' made you shiver in your jacket; made your hair stick up in all sorts of directions (not a problem for Mart considering his hair continued to be cut in the spiky style he'd claimed in his teens); it also brought sniffles and other ailments.

This weekend Mart was driving west of Brisbane, which was on the east coast of Australia, to meet up with some colleagues about 2 and a half-hours out of town in the Lockyer Valley. This area featured many farms, and also a huge dam, which provided water for the south east Queensland catchment area. Brisbane was traditionally a sub-tropical climate, although El Nino had been doing his best to change the weather patterns of the area, in conjunction with many other countries. Mart was due to meet several soil scientists and agricultural economists at his destination, and would stay at one of their homes until his return to Brisbane.

 

That evening

Mart had been shown around the area that afternoon and they had talked about a number of issues with regard effective farming systems. For him the hard part had not been understanding their problems or even the solutions being discussed. No, that was all pretty familiar territory. But the language they used! Occasionally someone would make some comment that Mart wished could be translated into something he could understand. He'd felt he'd started to get a handle on Australian colloquialisms since he'd arrived in June, but these folk, possibly because they hung out more with farmers, used some very strange expressions.

"And you know you've got to watch out for the yowie at dusk. It'd be a good idea to get packed up before sunset, cause it's pretty dark out here," one of his colleagues had warned.

"Yowie?' thought Mart, processing this word. "What in heck was a yowie?"

Since none of the others was remarking on this man's statement, Mart let it go. He hoped to ask the guy he would be staying with, Ian, for clarification on that term later. Certainly the others didn't look as if they worried about this yowie.

Ian lived in a house nearby and after they'd washed up and started dinner, Mart thought he'd ask Ian about the term, as they shared a beer.

"So Ian, what was the comment that Ray made about watching out for the yowie?"

"It's pronounced yow-ee mate, and I wouldn't take anything Ray says with a grain of salt. He's a bit of a larrikin, that one."

Mart thought he knew what larrikin meant, but he'd still not had the question answered to his satisfaction.

"So it's a joke then?" asked Mart.

"Yeah. The locals around here are always trying to get a rise out of you by talking about the yowie. It's like the thing they have to do with city folk. See how scared they can get 'em, if you know what I mean," remarked Ian with a laugh. "There's this one guy out Toogoolawah way, who's always trying it on with people who visit his place, and I swear I've seen folk start seeing things everywhere they look, based upon his stories."

"So it's a story then?" asked Mart, hoping that if he persevered with this, Ian might finally answer his question satisfactorily.

"Well, I don't know if it's a story, so much as a bit of a myth. Something you use to scare people silly enough to believe you."

"And a yowie is?" Mart pushed on.

"A yowie? Well, I guess it's a sort of creature who lives in the bush, kind of scaring looking, hairy, funny howl. It's big. Hides from people most of the time."

"And it's not real?"

"Well, I've never seen one, although plenty will tell you they have. Of course said people usually have a few in them, when they tell you about the yowie."

Mart began to see through the mist. So it was kind of a story, probably not real, that drunken folk made up to scare other equally inebriated people.

"And it howls?"

"Yeah, can't tell you just how it howls. You should try asking Ray for a demonstration tomorrow if you're keen to find out. Of course, he'll probably confuse you more than lay it straight."

"And the yowie only lives in the bush?"

"Yeah, I guess it's like those stories you hear from America about the abominable snowman and the yeti and big foot-"

"So, it's kind of like a sasquatch?" Mart asked, a little too excitedly.

"A what?"

"Bigfoot."

"Yeah, that's what I said. That farmer I was telling you about, he swears he's seen its footprints near the creeks on his property, but I don't know if Bill is the most reliable source of information if you know what I mean," he laughed.

Mart laughed with him. Oh, this was just too cool. Heck, if he rang Trixie up now to tell her about this, he'd lay bets, she'd suddenly get a strong notion to visit him in Australia. Ever since the Bob-White trip to Idaho when he was 16, everyone teased Trixie about her sasquatch sightings, and the hoax that had been played on them by those thieves. The thieves had even gone so far as to try to kidnap his cousin, Cap, to get their hands on the minerals that the old prospector, Tank, had gleaned from his small mine. Trixie had eventually caught on to their scheme and he and his cousins and friends had rescued Tank in due course. However, Trixie had long held the view after they'd returned home, that she had seen a sasquatch. And he thought she's seen it twice. He knew she didn't tell anyone about the second sighting, but he'd guessed she'd seen something the day she'd injured herself in the forest. She had been unusually quiet about it all, even considering that her fall had resulted in some very painful splinters, bruises and stings to her anatomy. He believed she'd been a bit spooked by something out there in the forest.

"My sister would really enjoy that story, Ian. She's with the FBI back in the States, and she always swears she saw a sas-, sorry Bigfoot, in the forests of Idaho."

"I guess every country has its stories, mate,'"Ian smiled. 'Was your sister a bit gullible back then?'

"No, not at all. She was extremely suspicious and was always on the trail of some mystery, even at age 13. I guess that's why she ended up being a detective."

"Well, let's eat, and you can tell me more stories then. Sure beats talking about farming day and night. Not much else to talk about 'round here," joked Ian.

 

The next day

Mart and Ian had been driving for most of the morning, in the course of their work. Ian had stopped at a local roadhouse for a snack mid-morning and had convinced Mart to indulge in one of those foods that he'd referred to as so typically Australian. Mart didn't think this long, fatty object referred to as a dim sim, sounded all that Australian. But Ian ate his with relish, and it had been a cheap mistake in any case. Mart's stomach didn't feel too good after eating the greasy dim sim, and even Ian expressed a few doubts in retrospect as to the freshness of the food in that particular roadhouse. At least they hadn't had to make an emergency stop on the side of the road to 'upchuck' as Ian said. And Ian had won $10 on the instant lottery ticket he'd bought at the roadhouse. The morning had been pretty good except for the dim sim, in Ian's estimation.

"So, Ray is going to meet us at the dam?" asked Mart.

"Yeah, we should be there in 10 minutes. You can ask him about the yowie, if you're still keen," ribbed Ian.

Ian had turned out to be what they called a 'wag'. He'd teased Mart about the yowie several times last night, sensing Mart was more than sensibly interested in this story. Ian told him they should take a drive up to Kingaroy to see the yowie statue erected by the local council, thinking Mart's sister would enjoy such a photograph.

"I think the expression for you, Ian, is something, my colleagues in Brisbane call a s#!$-stirrer."

"Got it in one, Mart."

They arrived at the dam in time for a late lunch and Ian had introduced the yowie topic early in the conversation. Ray had given a sly wink to Ian, and had made many comments through lunch about their howls. Mart was getting thoroughly sick of the conversation. The final straw had been when Ray said they should drive up to his friend Bill's farm. Since Bill had been the guy referred to by Ian as the chief source of these stories, Mart had his doubts that Bill would prove to be a very entertaining companion. He was in no mood to be the butt of their continuing jokes.

"Yeah, Bill could tell you about that time, when he had to use his tractor as a means of escaping the yowie," said Ray with a slow smile. "He had the tractor doing 50 km an hour trying to escape-"

"Yeah, now I've heard everything from you guys. Let's talk about soil for a change, do you think?"

Mart steered the conversation to something infinitely more intelligent.

 

That evening

Mart was getting ready for bed when he heard several noises outside, in the direction of Ian's shed. Since Ian was presently in the bathroom cleaning his teeth, Mart thought it unlikely that his friend was the one outside. Just then, he caught the gleam of a flashlight at the side of Ian's shed and the same low noise.

'That's strange,' Mart thought. 'I'd better check with Ian, in case there's a legend about kangaroos wielding flashlights, that I haven't heard yet'. He smiled to himself.

He knocked on the bathroom door.

"Ian! I think there's someone outside. I saw a light outside your shed, and I heard a few noises there a minute ago. Are you expecting visitors?"

"No, mate. I'll be finished in here in a second. Could you grab me that torch under the sink in the kitchen, and we'll go and take a look. I've got a nice piece of pine in my room to use, if our visitor is of the unwelcome variety," he remarked through the door.

"Ian, what's a torch?" asked Mart in confusion.

"A flashlight, mate," replied Ian.

Mart nodded as he went to the kitchen. He didn't turn the light on there, in case it alerted their visitor outside to his movements.

Ian was out of the bathroom by the time Mart returned to the hallway, and as promised had a very large piece of wood in his hand. Obviously Ian didn't have a gun, not entirely uncommon in Australia, where the gun laws had recently been revised to make possession more regulated.

"It better not be those kids I had to chase off a month back, who were trying to steal my motorbike. There's a lot of kids doing drugs in this town, and they do some fool things trying to raise money for their fix." Ian set his mouth determinedly and Mart followed him quietly out the back door.

There was indeed a noise near the shed as Ian and Mart crept closer. Just then Mart tripped on a branch on the ground, alerting the intruder to their presence. Ian swung the flashlight at the shed door, only to curse loudly-

"For God's sake, Ray. Would you take off the suit and stop trying to play the fool, you dickhead."

Even Mart could see that the person, who he assumed was Ray, had on a very poor imitation of a big foot costume, not unlike the one he'd seen in Idaho that time. The yowie pretender muttered his own oaths before clutching at the back of his head to remove the facial covering.

"You're no bloody fun, Ian, you know that. I was going to get on your tractor in a few minutes and do a few laps of your yard to amuse Mart, and now you've ruined my act. I even had some choice howls all ready to play on my tape deck."

"You are such a loser, Ray."

"And you're just a wowser, Ian. C'mon Mart here would have liked my yowie act."

Mart had to laugh at the silliness of the situation.

"Hey, Ian, we could call the police and report a sighting of the yowie, don't you think," Mart grinned. "I think the local paper would like a photo of Ray here in costume for posterity. I can see the headline now, 'Local soil scientist exposed as village idiot.' Or maybe it could be something that the anti-fur lobby would love like 'Scientist kills koalas to-'."

"Yeah, yeah. I get the message. I'd rather not make the papers if you don't mind however," complained Ray dryly.

"Mart, we could get a lot of mileage out of this. I think the headlines should read 'Local man admits he's responding to alien messages to wear strange fur suit in bush'. It's a bit long, but it works for me. Or, we could get Ray implicated in some kind of cult thing, you know, 'Men who like to wear fur suits and hang out in the bush exposed as belonging to some strange new cult'. Police recommends the closure of zoos and costume stores to prevent further outbreaks. Parents are advised to keep a close watch on their children expressing a desire to buy yowie chocolates."

"They sell yowie chocolates?" asked Mart.

"Yeah, haven't you seen them in the stores?" queried Ian.

"You guys are just too funny," remarked Ray dryly. "But I think that the headline 'Ian Davies caught talking to his dead animal collection', sounds better in my book. You're going to show Mart your 'pets' aren't you, Ian. He's got them all named and he makes up stories describing how they died."

"Oh, go-"

"Okay, guys. Let's just call this little adventure an aborted one, and let Ray save his costume for Halloween. Or maybe this is how you Australians celebrate Christmas, rather than using Santa Claus," suggested Mart tired of seeing grown men come up with elaborate plots for playing the fool. "Go home, Ray and try not to recall this evening when your wife asks you where you've been?"

Ray took his advice, and with a few more muttered curses, walked out of the yard to his car, which was parked in a nearby paddock. Ian and Mart returned to the house shortly later.

Mart's dreams that evening were strange to say the least. When he woke up the next morning, he was just reliving the final lines from 'Planet of the Apes', except that it was more like 'Planet of the Yowies'. He didn't know which was worse- the real version with Roddy McDowall or his concept with Ray the soil scientist.

'I hope Trixie never dreams of her sasquatch,' he thought with a smile.

 

The End

Note: I hope the Australian terms make sense for the most part. I have a friend back home in Australia who really does try to scare people with his yowie stories. He does live on a farm in the Toogoolawah area, which was about 80 minutes from my childhood home in Queensland. Thanks 'Uncle' Bill for the stories you used to tell! I had Mart come to Brisbane because I know that the uni I work for back home has a big agriculture department, specializing in soil science, agricultural economics etc. And I figured with Australian soils being so old, and Queensland so affected by El Nino, that Mart would find lots to study if he travelled to Australia.

Maybe you won't like my choice of bad movie, but for me, I disliked 'The Planet of the Apes' intensely.

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