Leon folded the walker and hooked it under his arm. They made their way onto the field, which was teeming with people. It was quite a set-up. Tents and gazebos in rows. Log trucks and utes along fences. A central wood-chop arena near a tall pole rigged for tree-climbing. Draught horses dragging loads. Food stalls. Big-bellied men in Akubras and flannelette shirts. Kids running around, while their mums failed miserably at keeping them under control.

Leon led Grandpa towards a crowd around a four-wheel-drive ute in a roped-off ring. A driver sat in the cab and three men stood behind it; Leon recognised Toby and Mooney from footy. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked a man beside him.

‘It’s the Bush Push, mate. Just about to start.’

‘Want to watch?’ he asked Grandpa.

‘Yup. I want to see everything.’

Leon set up the walker near the front, and they were just in time; the start-gun went off and the men shouldered into the tailgate of the ute, faces screwed up with effort while the crowd shouted encouragement: ‘Carn. Get into it, boys.’

At first nothing happened, then the ute started to roll forward. It moved slowly—but somehow the men pushed it a full thirty metres to a white line sprayed on the grass.

Leon thought it was over, but then Mooney donned chaps and a helmet from the tray of the ute, grabbed a chainsaw, slapped on goggles and earmuffs, and cranked up the saw. Near the white line, a log had been racked on a frame, and now Mooney zipped off two rounds of wood before killing the motor and tossing his safety gear over to Toby. With muscles and tattoos popping, Toby dragged on the gear and grasped a shiny silver axe and split each wheel of wood into five pieces. The last team member loaded the wood onto the back of the ute while the crowd roared. The men were red with exertion as they pushed the ute back to the starting line.

Leon couldn’t help laughing. What a crazy competition! When one team finished, the next one lined up. He and Grandpa cheered with everyone else; Grandpa, bouncing on his walker, waving one spindly arm.

Afterwards, they watched the gumboot-throwing competition. Then they followed the racket of chainsaws across the field to a cordoned-off area where men in earmuffs and safety glasses were lined up at numbered racks bearing logs, clamped horizontally. When the starter dropped a flag, the men stepped to their blocks, chainsaws screaming, and deftly zipped off wheels of wood: the first with an up-cut, the second with a down-cut, and the third by inserting the saw into the log and slicing outwards.