by John Gerritsen
But never the romance of a horse bell, the crack of a stockwhip or the smell of sweating leather though they were in the background.
Just the roar of diesels and the vibration of an endless drill string rotating down a hole spewing a muddy return, with everything smothered under an inescapable pall of dust; bull dust.
Then a long term role as a ranger in a multifaceted position involving land management for habitat preservation and ultimately public visitation where understanding and interpretation played a major role. Here ones knowledge of the land, its history and people was vital in providing continuity to the whole operation.
Mostly outdoors, working under a faded blue canopy, tethered to the baseline of an ever remote horizon. From exploitation to conservation with only the sun keeping time overhead.