On a recent biological survey in the Kimberley, I was reflecting on my choice of occupation. I do this frequently when I am out bush.
Why?
Because what I do for a living is not particularly easy. To be quite frank – if you did not love it, you’d hate it.
Oh, it looks hopelessly romantic through the ‘rose coloured’ googles of social media; but out there, it is bloody hard yakka - usually executed in either baking heat or the freezing cold.
The most fervent of my contemplative excursions usually occupies my mind when I am working alone and have been for many days. A biological survey can take anywhere from one to two weeks, and some can be very remote. It goes without saying that one has to be very content with one's own company.
Contemplation and the questioning of one’s life choices typically descends into an existential crisis right about the time I am clambering up, down or across the same ridiculously steep slope on the eighth day that I have been clambering up, down or across twice a day for the previous seven.
They say doing the same thing over and over and hoping for a different outcome is the definition of insanity – well, unfortunately, that is what we call standard biological survey methodology:
1) Chose a particular habitat, usually on a ridiculously abrupt or gnarly landscape, that will support a particular array of animals;
2) Layout a trapping regime up, down or across it as best you can;
3) Set traps (again, as best you can);
4) Check and close traps in the morning;
5) Open traps at night;
6) Rinse and repeat for eight interminably long and painful days!
On this most recent survey, as I was destroying my ankles sliding over cane grass strewn boulders on the down-slope of a granite breakaway (humping out about 20kg of very awkward to carry trapping gear), I was wondering who the hell else would possibly contemplate doing this for a living?
At the bottom, before I dumped my load (literally and metaphorically), I turned to look back from whence I came. As I picked my next line back up the hill it dawned on me what breed of lunatic may make a very adept zoological survey consultant: the Hard Enduro enthusiast!!!!
They are the only (in)humans I have ever encountered that willingly and enthusiastically throw themselves (and stupid heavy inanimate objects such as motorbikes) at the sought of insane slopes that make mountain goats want to seek greener pastures.
What’s more incredible about the average hard enduro rider is that they refuse to cease their attack on an ascent until they reach the top – it's simply not in their nature to give up half or two thirds of the way up.
And at the risk of putting to fine a point on it, they’ll do it over and over and over again. Once they have found a line they like they will continue to throw themselves at it until they can get from the bottom to the top without mess or fuss.
Thus, the average Hard Enduro rider is actually the ultimate biological survey consultant. So, when next I am looking for an assistant on my surveys, I shan’t go to www.seek.com.au.
I shall go to the WHES member list instead.
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