Ringer Dave’s Place to Rest

Ringer’s Rest is a splendid bushcamp looked after by a lovely big-hearted guy called Dave who is an old drover with a long wispy beard, a twinkle in one eye, and a false one in the other.

Dave tells lots of stories for each of his broken bones, tin plates in his body, and horsebreaking adventures.

Roaming around the camp are three horses, including a pretty colt, learning from its mother that humans are good for tasty treats.

Late Sunday afternoon is ‘Damper Happy Hour’ with Dave who kneads a killer damper mix out of curry powder, coconut, onions, carrots and much more. Under his watchful eye, the camp oven is placed into a sunken wheel rim beside the fire, then coals are shovelled beneath and on top.

The damper bakes for 45 minutes, Dave uses his folded piece of wire to check the damper is done, then extracts and wraps it with a cloth for five minutes.

The resultant damper slices beautifully and provides a heavenly tasting slice of buttered bliss enhanced with lashings of treacle.

Travellers gather round the fire. Greg and Jan in their 20 ton bus and trailer have been 20 years on the road. A young couple from Melbourne is touring the area. An older man brings his two springer spaniels to sit by the fire.

Dave tells how a bull smashed his face during branding. Then he recalls how he vented his revenge by castrating the bull, scrotum and all, then taking its horns off. Tough times for bulls and men.

As the beer flows, Dave sings some Irish-sounding songs, then takes out his false eye, licks it, and polishes it on an oily, dusty t-shirt before replacing it in his eye socket. He holds his tinnie in a fist, like holding a tankard.

Greg and Jan invite us to see their rig, an enormous roadtrain outfit consisting of a large converted bus and a double-decker trailer holding a 4wd ute below and a tinnie overhead. The interior has all the bells and whistles, 1100w of solar, and 600ah lithium batteries. Greg is a mechanic, so keeps busy with the whole assembly and his toys.

Early morning at the camp is glorious. Mists part to reveal the mare and foal highlighted in the first rays of the sun. Flights of calling, black cockatoos drift overhead whilst wallabies hop carefully through the bush.

Hot air balloons are inflated in the field and rise majestically with their cargo of sightseers into the first light above our heads.