It is yellow, 2:40 pm. Miles from any sort of civilisation and safety. Worn windows wound all the way down. Countless tiny little devils find refuge in the only covered area for kilometres. Heat-waves jump from the ruptured road blurring your vision. Charred trees mask the opposing side of the valley due to forest fires and 1080 plantings.

Look Out. Plate like rocks attack from above, moved by the first sounds radiating through the valley in days. Unstable cliffs overhang and warn you to get away as quickly as possible. There is nowhere near enough room to fit another on the hostile road. Gouged out gravel fling off the road into the wall and down the 3 second fall. Echoes emanate around bouncing off the harsh valley walls. Trapped.

Lean over, but not too far. The fall, 40 metres of inescapable air pulls at you asking for some excitement in this still valley. The shiny schist wall taunts you. Stubborn vines grow in ungrowable conditions. Egg shaped rocks surrounding the river have all been through the fall before. Water surges down the valley unstopped. This water is the special type, the one in plastic bottles giving money to the Chinese. The occasional relaxed trout cools down in the recently melted snow.

Mum holds the “oh shit” handle with white knuckles. Wrinkles visibly form on her due to the stress. Dad controls the metal beast with ease, driving the road he has for years. A subtle smile on his face showing how he is actually enjoying the adrenaline rush. Your sister lost deep in her phone as if a bubble has formed around blocking anything from going in or out.

You. The air around compresses making ears pop. Nothing can be heard over the yell of the aged engine. The tiresome truck blocks all of your senses except sight leaving the dust to do that. Even your smell is covered by the black diesel smoke.

The beautiful piece of junk sliding down the road rattles with age. The 1980’s Toyota Hilux has made this treacherous journey many times. Squealing window wipers erase scattering dust from the tempered glass. The speedometer flails all over the lit dashboard. Shiny red seat covers reflect the sun’s rays. Transparent Pump water bottles with condensating water dripping down the sides sit in the seat pockets. There’s a map on the seat. Closed. You have no leg room due to the extensive packing and preparation. The gushing a.c. blows in your overheated face as if you’re winning a 100m sprint, but it does nothing to help beat the heat produced by the sun. The window winder hovers just next to your hip spinning at high revs.

Your sister reaches into the netted seat pockets to quench the thirst made by dry 30 degree heat. She opens the cap when an aggressive bump puts a jolt through the truck. Evaporating water jumps onto you and everything around. A breath of fresh air. Seconds of comfort before returning to burning. Diminishing discoid droplets sit still on open dry skin.