Desert storm and Lives on threads

It's gonna be a crazy week, I think to myself as I'm standing in front of the calendar white board.

There's a lot going on, a lot of people are involved, and there are surveys and meetings planned all over the place. People, cars, fuel stations, homesteads, keys, satellite phones, potato chips, fucking lamb chops and eggs and whatnot.

I flow in on Monday, do one survey on Tuesday, and start another one on Wednesday, drive out, sleep over and finish it on Thursday, drive back, sleep over and fly out. So much for theory...

Even before we head out, it was obviously going to be a total mess. It's funny how people are sometimes laid back, especially when it comes to them. "Funny", because that's the only sound I can utter.

Pfft.

We pick up the guys at a station where about thirty people live. It's packed with meat ants that bite on to your skin and won't let go. As soon as we head out, all of a sudden there's a cyclone cloud the size of Switzerland in front of us. We, of course, have to drive straight into it.

The guys take it easy because they're used to it, but I see some with their eyes out and think to myself that this is no bueno. We end up in the storm's centre, we have to stope and brace ourselves because the car is rocking that hard and we wait. There's a loud crack and we see one of the side windows is cracked.

It's not hail. It's the wind passing us some stones. We open the other window and keep the broken one from popping out. We keep driving slowly, but the storm keeps following us. The Dutch guy who's running the homestead runs out with a torch and welcomes us to the dongers.

The old guys think there's no way way we can do the survey the following day. The area is full of small lakes anyway, which have definitely filled up and merged together by now.

Luckily, there's only so many large puddles along the way, so we manage to get to the GPS-de rendez-vous point. The guy we're supposed to meet is not there. In my head I see images of him bogged up somewhere in the middle of the desert. If you can call a gigantic flooded area a desert.

We run around, drive around, consult, talk, discuss and do the survey. The guy's arrived with a flat tyre saying it's one of those days. We finish up, make sure the guy's okay and get on our way. Back at the community, the meat ants are even hungrier.

After getting back to where we would spend the night, I try to check how the bloke's doing, but the satellite phone isn't working. I go to bed with a stomach ache and a bit tipsy, and dream a bunch of weird stuff, on of them being the guy ending up dead in the desert.

I talk to the office who checked with the guy's office and it happens that the guy did indeed end up stuck in the desert, bogged up or something. It just makes me realize how much we risk on a daily basis. Over and over again.

I e-mail the guy, hoping that he's all well, type this up and am off to the airport.

Hopefully the weekend will be calm, boring and quiet.