Trip 4: August 17, Part 2

We’re far enough north now that it’s HOT. Yes, it’s winter here, but the Equator is close enough that moving farther north warms things up. This actually makes most things easier, as we need not worry about getting chilly at night.

Walked around town. Taking photos of the famous Birdsville Hotel and Pub, the defunct Royal Hotel, and a clinic that “took me back” to a previous adventure. A couple of trips ago, Richard and Nikki again as travel companions, we had stopped at a town called Hawker, near the Flinders Ranges. There we visited a museum at Hawker Motors, with both the business and the museum having been created by Fred Teague. But before he’d settled in Hawker, Teague had, among numerous other jobs, spent 18 months driving the Marree-to-Birdsville mail route. It was Teague who hauled all the material for building the clinic. (And it was during that visit to Hawker that Richard had promised that someday, if I made another trip to Australia, we could travel the Birdsville Track.)

Another willy willy blew past us, as we continued making our way through town. We then stopped at a splendid museum—the Working Museum—which I won’t describe in detail because the enthusiastic but aging owner, John Menzies, said that, if he couldn’t sell it, he’d be closing it down—and that is what happened in 2011. Pity. (But if you’re curious, there are a number of videos on YouTube of this remarkable one-man effort.)

Next stop was the odd, old cemetery, a historic site that is the final resting place of many of the areas early pioneers, as well as some more recent residents of the town. Then we headed back to camp. With a couple of hours until our dinner reservation (at the Birdsville Hotel!), we each headed off to amuse ourselves. Nikki went to the library. Richard went to buy more supplies. I spent my time looking for birds. In addition to all the birds we’ve seen everywhere, there were white-headed stilts, also known as pied stilts (Himantopus leucocephalus —always good to travel with someone who has bird books), and exquisite little, bright-yellow that I didn’t find in the book but Nikki later told me were finches. But as sunset approached, I hiked into town to get a photo of the Birdsville Hotel in the diminishing light —an iconic image.

When Nikki and Richard returned, we all headed into the Pub/Hotel for an iconic evening—my treat, as they had put so much effort into making this a great trip. We started with drinks in the bar (and I was happy to have a cold Strongbow cider), then into the dining room, where I enjoyed a delightful and generous rack of lamb with “Saxon sauce”—a brown gravy with mint. Nice veggies. Nikki had kangaroo and Richard had steak—all good portions. Dessert was lovely, too. I had blueberry pudding. Of course, all was more wonderful because of the location. The sturdy, white walls, stone floor, and wood-beamed roof of the old hotel created a good setting for a celebratory meal. Chef came out to chat with customers once everyone was served. Classic white chef’s jacket, but with a baseball cap. Bearded and with a limp. I imagined for him the multi-faceted career that seems so common out here, possibly involving horses at some point, and injury—so a suitably quirky character for an outback pub.)

I was amused to see that there was an impressive computer setup near the bar. Plus Nikki told me she’d been able to get on the Internet at the library. So Birdsville is still mighty remote, but no longer quite so isolated.

As we exited the pub/hotel, we struck up a conversation with a group from Adelaide, and we chatted for nearly an hour about travel in Australia—standing in the middle of the street (not a lot of traffic here).

Then it was back to camp and to our waiting sleeping bags. (Though not without a few moments of enjoying the night sky.)

Trip 4: August 17, Part 1

Relatively leisurely morning. Though it was early, there were already occasional drivers passing by on the road. Whenever anyone passed, they would slow down, toot their horn, and wave. This was to be friendly, of course, but also to make sure we were okay, and not stopped because of an injury or car problem. Richard checked everything again, and then we were packed and on the road by just after nine. Our camp was about 100 kilometers from Birdsville, so our destination was getting closer. A return to gibbers makes us all appreciate having located that brief stretch of sand where we camped last night.

We are now headed into Queensland’s Channel Country. This sprawling region (roughly 60,000 square miles) takes its name from the channels cut by the many rivers that appear on those occasions when there is rain. Much of the time, the surface is dry, but there is enough moisture to grow the rough grass that supports cattle ranching here.

Rugged, red, rocky, and dotted with jump ups/mesas, this is dramatic country. The burst of greenness amidst desolation that signals the presence of water (even if the water is not visible) is always astonishing, but here it seems more remarkable, because the numerous channels mean more frequent greenery, but the intervening land seems to compensate by being rockier and more desolate. More grass means more kangaroos. More channels and then dunes—high ones this time (sign says we’ll have dunes for the next 11 kilometers).

It’s really beautiful here, in an unapologetic, unforgiving kind of way. Harsh but splendid. I am enjoying this landscape immensely. Alternating dunes and jump ups, mulga and acacia, bursts of noisy galahs.

Broad claypans appeared, one even with water. (A claypan is an area where there is a dense clay layer that doesn’t allow plant growth and poorly absorbs water, hence the standing water we could see. Not lovely, but fascinating.)

We crested a dune, and below us we could see the Birdsville race course. This currently deserted venue is the site of a famous horse race that occurs in September every year—three weeks from now, in fact. Every year, for a few days, the population swells from the usual 110 people to thousands. Begun in 1882, this event offers two days of racing, but also offers live music and other entertainment, plus numerous events for those who make the trek to this remote spot.

We crossed the Diamantina River and headed into Birdsville! A quick drive through town gave me a glimpse of this iconic locale, but Richard was focused on getting us to the caravan park/camp ground, so we could get a good place to set up camp before we started exploring.

I’ve read that Birdsville takes its name from the abundant birdlife attracted to the Diamantina River. Our camp being near the river’s edge, it was easy to confirm this explanation, as crows, swallows, magpies, larks, and kites were very much in evidence. The ablution block is a fair hike from the spot we got for setting up our tents, but the walk was well worth it, as we could have showers and do a bit of hand laundry. Also, it’s nice to have toilets again.

Sitting in camp, eating lunch, I could see two trees filled with corellas by the side of the river. A willy willy (aka, dust devil) blew through camp, stirring things up a bit. This mini-whirlwind was far more interesting as it left us than it was when it passed over us. When it was gone, we washed the dishes and headed into town to explore.

Trip 4: August 16, Part 2

The terrain keeps changing. Bursts of spinifex, splashes of black soil, golden rocks, black rocks, red rocks, red sand. Suddenly, kangaroos are abundant again. However, while the terrain changes, the sky remains the same: incredibly blue, a blue that is deep and clear. There is no pollution out here. And, of course, since it’s winter, no clouds. Just splendid, open, blue sky.

While it is all interesting, for me, visually, the red sand/dirt is my favorite, especially when highlighted by bursts of silvery blue/green scrub. It gladdens my heart to see it.

Crossed out of Innaminka Reserve (the reserve covers more than 5,000 square miles, so it takes a while to reach the far side) and into Cordillo Downs, a historic outback station. We were again surrounded by rolling, red sand dunes, traveling between them rather than over them. And then back to gibber plains again. (Still on the Cordillo Downs station—when all you have is rocks and sand, you need a lot of land.)

Cordillo Downs was and is the site of a famous woolshed (building where sheep are shorn), a massive building (the world’s largest shearing shed) erected in 1883, made out of local stone (what else?). Though not all stone: the roof was iron. The building is now used for storage, but is kept primarily for its historic importance. The sheep are long gone (since the early 1940s), because so many were killed by dingoes. The switch was made to cattle, and that is what keeps the station going now.

While Cordillo Downs is private property, the owners do not object to visitors visiting the woolshed, and travelers are also allowed to stop (and even camp) along the road or nearby creeks. (There are no services or accommodations for visitors anywhere along this rough road.) So Richard found us a nice creek bed, where we pulled over and stopped for lunch.

On the road again, crossing Sturt’s Stony Desert. No kidding about the “stony.” (Worth noting, there are better roads, but not if you want to see some of the historic sites. Plus, though rugged, this is a shortcut if you’re traveling from Innaminka to Birdsville.)

Passed Providence Creek. This creek has so many channels that, overall, it measures two kilometers wide. Here we saw red mulga growing. This short tree has curly, reddish bark and needle-thin leaves. Richard says it’s not commonly seen.

Then on to Cadelga Outstation (now part of Cordillo Downs). Here, there are only haunting ruins of the one-time homestead, also built of stone. Nearby, a tree-lined waterhole was noisily inhabited by a great number of birds. We took some photos of the ruins and trees, and then we needed to keep on going. We’ll be bush camping tonight, and Richards wants to find a good campsite by 4:00-4:30, well before sunset, so back to the road.

Crossed the border into Queensland. Diamantina Shire. Before long, Richard found the place he had in mind, and we pulled off the road. It was a good site for camping. Flat, even, with a golden dune that is about 15 feet high blocking the wind. Plus we’re fairly near the road, so no chance of getting lost—and no one is going to be driving on this rough, unlighted road at night. Plus. we’re only about half an hour outside of Birdsville. Actually, quite a remarkable spot.

While Nikki and I set up camp, Richard changed the tire again. The patched spot was beginning to bulge. He said that everyone in Innaminka was talking about tire trouble and the “shocking roads”—so he assured us that this is not unlucky, just the way things are. (But why you don’t want to do this without knowing what you’re getting into—and without someone like Richard on hand, to fix things.)

Beautiful sunset, and now the stars are out. With no trees around us to hem in the sky, the sky seems so immense it is almost overwhelming. The whole universe is stars. What a glorious night.

Mmm—Richard just opened an old bottle of port. This is camping at its best.

Trip 4: August 16, Part 1

Up early, as usual. Greeted by galahs, parrots, correllas, and others. Camp quickly taken down and packed (we’re getting good at this). On the road, under the watchful eyes of several kangaroos along the road (morning is good for viewing ‘roos). Headed into Innaminka to refuel and load up on water, and then into the great nothingness on the first leg of our run to Birdsville. We’ll cross the Strzelecki Desert and Sturt’s Stony Desert—hard to imagine what might qualify for the name “stony” in an area that seems to be defined by rocks. We’ll see.

The sign at the edge of town said that the road to Birdsville via Cordillo Downs is open. (It isn’t always. There is a website for checking this and other outback roads, and Richard checked before leaving home, but things can change quickly, so “day of” signs are needed, too.) So with the “okay” from the sign, we crossed the Cooper at the causeway and headed deeper into the outback.

Gidgee trees popped up out of the vast expanse of gibbers around us. Eventually, even the gidgee tress vanished, and we were surrounded by rocks and tough grass. As always, however, even the most modest water course, though dry on the surface, presents us with a wonderful burst of trees and greenery. So the desolation is relieved with some frequency.

To my right: rocks, tough grasses, and cattle. (Apparently, the Japanese have a special fondness for the taste and quality of the meat raised in this area, and Japan is where this cattle will eventually go.) To my left: rocks, in the distance, the greenery of a creek and, rising above the tree tops, the towering red dunes of sand country.

I’m still amazed by the relentless and seemingly endless expanse of gibbers. However, it does seem that the gibbers are getting smaller, and there are even a few bare patches. So not quite as merciless as yesterday.

Then suddenly we were in sand country. We stopped at Patchawarra Bore to take a “classic” photo of a windmill, dam, and cattle (the windmill being the means of pumping water from underground, to fill the dam and provide for the cattle). This area was one of the first places in Australia that gas and petroleum reserves were noted, since gas came up with the water when they first drilled the bore.

Then back to the gibbers. Passed a bore where a bunch of ringers (Australian cowboys, called ringers because they ring the mob, or round up the herd) had set up camp. They were busy tagging calves. Somehow, this just doesn’t seem like the perfect place for raising cattle, but apparently, it works.

Red sand again became more frequent. We passed a creek where the silcrete was clearly visible. (Silcrete is a hardened layer of soil that is rich in silica. Most common in hot, arid areas where silica that has dissolved has plenty of time to dry out and glue together soil grains, forming an extremely hard layer. It is tremendously hard and tends, given enough time, to weather into boulders.) Here, silcrete forms the top layer of the oldest part of this region, and it was clearly visible.

Trip 4: August 15, Part 2

As we headed the 20 or so miles to the Dig Tree, the red dunes of sand country came back into view. Across the border into Queensland’s Bulloo Shire. The Dig Tree is on private property, the Nappa Merrie Station, but because it is such an important historic site, it is kept open to the public. There is an entry booth where someone from the station (a hand or, today, the nanny—everyone takes turns, we were told) offers information and collects the $10 per car fee that pays for keeping the road open and the area around the tree cared for. (And for a slightly higher fee, one can camp nearby.)

The Dig Tree is part of the tragic story of the end of the Burke and Wills expedition. The explorers made it all the way across the continent, the first to ever cross going south to north, but when they got back to the camp on Cooper Creek, the backup team, which had waited for four months, had left—only nine hours earlier. The Dig Tree refers to a tree on which the back-up team leader, William Brahe, had carved a message about where to dig to find extra supplies that had been left for the explorers, in case they ever did return.

Seeing the Dig Tree was moving—but the stop was made more delightful by the presence of great numbers of correllas, plus egrets and herons. Then we stopped at another tree into which a portrait of Burke had been carved in 1898.

Then it was back to the wild road. Some compelling landscape and some merely astonishing. Clouds of galahs rose at our approach at one spot. We passed a few other cars, and out here, everyone waves when they pass.

Stopped in Innaminka to take photos of the surrounding area, and then headed to the general store again, for a few supplies. Topping my shopping list was a bottle of RID, a local product highly recommended by Nikki that both repels mosquitoes and, very necessary at this point, soothes the itching of the bites I’d already accumulated. (Down side of camping near water.)

Back at camp, I started the fire for cooking dinner. Now the sun is down, Nikki (who has a lovely voice) is singing softly, and Richard is grilling sausages and eggs. The birds are indulging in their usual evening symphony, with galahs and corellas making the biggest contribution to the background noise.

Nice dinner. We even had a steamed pudding, which was a grand treat. Companionable evening, as usual. Nikki and Richard went to bed at the usual 8:30, but I was feeling restless, so I’ve stayed up and am now writing by firelight—but also enjoying my surroundings. The Southern Cross is riding down the sky, but is still gloriously bright. I will probably only see it while I’m out here camping. Two other treats: I saw a shooting star and (quite remarkably) saw the grand sweep of stars overhead reflected in the creek (only possible to see because it is so dark out here). Glorious. And finally, to bed at the outrageous hour of 9:45.

Trip 4: August 15, Part 1

Beautiful sunrise—but noisy. Galahs, parrots, corellas, peewees, and several birds I could not identify broke into joyous cacophony as the sun peaked over the edge of the world.

The morning chill began to dissipate as the sun topped the trees and shone on our camp. We’re actually camped in what would be the bed of the river, if it were at full flood. As it is, we’re about 15 feet above its current level. Pretty amazing difference a little rain makes. The river is lined with river red gums and coolibahs (both large, handsome eucalypt trees—though thanks to the song “Waltzing Matilda,” more people outside Australia have heard of coolibahs). Nikki was heating water for our morning tea, and I quite happily got a photograph of her waiting for the billy to boil under the shade of a coolibah tree.

Nikki and I had a second cup of tea, while Richard changed the flat tire for the spare. I expressed my concern over this being such a rough trip, and Richard reassured me, “This is what it’s like out here. That’s why I’m prepared—and why I have insurance, for when it’s harder to fix than a flat tire.” Fortunately, he also expressed the sentiment that not traveling in the outback was not something he was willing to consider. Then, that task done, we headed off for a hike along the river, just to enjoy our surroundings, before heading out for the day.

Driving toward town, it was startling to see how, within yards of the lushness surrounding the river, the land became dramatically drier. We stopped at the nearby KING tree. Unlike other blazed trees in this area, this one doesn’t date back to the 1861 expedition, but was carved in 1947 to commemorate that this is the area where the expedition’s John King both survived and was found.

Into Innaminka, which was surveyed in 1890. First business was to get the flat tire patched. Then, since we haven’t had a shower in three days, we headed for the Innaminka public ablution block. The $2 “donation” seemed like a bargain, especially since there was plenty of hot water. Lovely.

The National Park Service office for this area is housed in what was originally a hospital established by the Australian Inland Mission (AIM). The building has been restored and, in addition to offices, houses a display of the area’s history, both European and Aboriginal.

Stopped at the town’s delightful general store to pick up lunch. Bought meat pies (yum) and Bundaberg ginger beer (spicy but non-alcoholic). One thing that caught my attention was a very practical product for campers: “toothpaste tubes” filled with condensed coffee and milk. Just squeeze a bit in your cup and add hot water. Clever.

After eating, we headed for Burke’s grave. This is where explorer Robert O’Hara Burke was buried when he was found dead near here in 1861. His bones were later taken to Melbourne and a monument was erected. Then on to the Dig Tree.

Video: Outback Innamincka and Cooper Creek

While I have hundreds of photos of this trip, they are slides, and I don’t really have the time to scan all the slides at this point in my life. Maybe another time. But there are plenty of videos out there, made by other people who have visited the area—in this case, professionally. In this video, you’ll see jump ups, eagles, Burke’s grave, Cooper Creek, pelican, egret, corellas (small white cockatoos), both singly and in large flock, river red gums, rocks. The lake fed by the creek is full in this video. It was a bit lower when I was there. But this will still give a good feeling for how wonderful this was.

Trip 4: August 14, Part 2

Lunch finished, were again on the road, over dunes and then, with a change of direction, paralleling them for a while. The corrugations on the road are bad in sections, but the “splendid isolation,” Richard observes, makes the roughness worthwhile. (I’m glad he thinks so, since he’s doing all the driving!).

On toward Merty Merty Station, past a giant dune, and then onto the Strzelecki Track, one of several tracks in Australia famous for remoteness and ruggedness.

Desolate area, largely. However, near the beginning of the track, signs remind us that not far away from this intersection, there is drilling for natural gas, which makes Australia self-sufficient for this resource.

Far off to our right, the giant red dune runs parallel to the track for miles and miles. Richard says that all the dunes stretch across the desert like that. It seems odd to look across the miles of pale beige sand to see the deep-red dunes rising in the distance. Richard says the dunes are generally 30 to 50 feet high.

At the end of the track, we turned right and headed back into the red dunes. We’re beginning to see spinifex. Then out of sand country and back to gibber plains. Into Innaminka just after 4:00. Stopped at the rangers station, to find out about the best places to camp and to pay camping fees.

Dozens of galahs and a few corellas swirled into the air nearby, then settled again, hunting for seeds. No time to investigate, however, as we need to find our campsite, so we can set up camp before dark. Pretty bleak area, really, but dramatic.

And suddenly, it’s lush and beautiful, as we reach Cooper Creek. We have a great camp site. Splendid view of the wide, still creek, with lots of trees and birds everywhere. Perfect.

And I’m immensely pleased to actually be camping on the historic Cooper Creek. Our campsite is named King’s site, because king was found here by the rescue party. Wow. (If you’re not familiar with the significance of Cooper Creek, check out info on Burke and Wills. Of course, if you have my book Waltzing Australia, you can just turn to the appendix, where I include the entire tragic tale.)

Splendid sunset—merest sliver of a moon (but slightly more than last night), clear dark blue sky with a blaze of orange along the horizon, all reflected in the water. A great flotilla of pelicans coming up the creek is outlined darkly against the bright, sky-reflecting water. The cries of galahs and corellas ring through the trees around us. Lovely.

Oops. One tire is flat. Richard found a nail in it. He’ll change it in the morning, and we can get it patched in town. It tells you something about the area that every stopping point is prepared to fix things like this.

Another nicer dinner, campfire, conversation, and to bed before 9:00.

Trip 4: August 14, Part 1

Up early, packed up camp, and were on the road by about 8:15. First to Tibooburra, to visit the Country Store. I love this remarkable little shop. Friendly people, lots of homemade goodies, a surprisingly wide range of foodstuffs (including Indian curries and imported European chocolates). Plus camping supplies and auto parts. We were there for fill-ups on petrol and butane. (The butane is essential because most parks do not permit wood fires. These created two problems in the past: wood carried in brought insects and disease that caused diebacks in several forests, and, of course, the occasional fire got out of control.)

Off on the Jump Up Road. A jump up is an eroded hill, like a low mesa or butte, and the books Richard had brought along on the trip said that they are characteristic of the eastern part of Sturt National Park.

Kangaroos, rocks, low scrub, isolated short trees, bursts of greenery along creek beds, jump ups visible on the near horizon. At one creek crossing, Richard mentioned that river red gums (which adorn most creeks out here) are the most widely distributed eucalypts in Australia.

Acacias are all in bloom, as are many other wild flowers. Mobs of kangaroos (and “mob” is the correct term for a group of kangaroos). The road is rough, but our surroundings are splendid. Before long, the Dingo Fence came into view. It follows the border between Queensland and New South Wales at the point where we saw it. The fence was started in 1880 to try to stop the spread of rabbits, which became a real and devastating plague. Then, in 1914, the fence was repaired to keep dingoes out of sheep-raising area.

For a short distance, we left behind the astonishing gibber plain and entered an area of red sand. The dunes were dotted with small bushes with yellow flowers and seed pods. They are members of the grevillea family and are known as desert rattle pods.

Then suddenly we were back to gibbers. Some of creek beds we passed or crossed were filled with pale sand, and others were an incredible jumble of rocks.

Another stretch of red dirt. This is my favorite terrain: red dirt and silvery to olive green scrub. It reminds me of the Red Centre. But Richard assured me there would be plenty more gibbers ahead.

Near Fort Grey, a depot created and used by Charles Sturt as a base for exploring the area, we turned off the 4WD track onto the main road, which was simply a broader, smoother dirt road, and headed for Cameron Corner, the spot where South Australia, Queensland, and New South Wales meet. (Cameron Corner was named for surveyor James Cameron, who established the borders of the three states in 1880.)

Into sand hill country—really rolling countryside. Through the dog fence at the South Australia border. Quick stop at the “Cameron Corner Store” for beverages (iced coffee for me). As remote as it is, this utilitarian store makes it obvious that this area sees a bit of tourism, as they have a gift shop and a cappuccino machine, as well as offering meals, fuel, minor auto repairs, and camp sites. Beverages purchased, we headed over to the actual corner, where the “Three States Pole” marks the point at which the borders meet. The pole is topped with a brass plate that shows exactly where the lines were drawn, and which state you’re in, depending on where you stand in relation to the pole. (For some reason, these sorts of lines are always interesting.)

Back to the red dirt rollercoaster. Dune after rolling red dune. We were crossing the Strzelecki Desert. Richard found us a level, sandy spot near a windmill to enjoy our lunch. Broad and open. Perfect.

Trip 4: August 13, Part 2

Cleaned up after lunch, and then headed off on the Gorge Loop Road, heading for South Myers Tank. In the outback, a tank is essentially, a large, manmade pool or pond, that captures water during rare rains—water that would otherwise simply run out into the surrounding desert and dry up. This tank is a birding “hot spot.” More than 100 species of bird have been spotted here. Among the many we saw, most abundant were pied and black cormorants, pelicans, and a variety of ducks. Plus there were gorgeous butterflies.

Continuing on, we crossed gibber plains, surrounded by sampfire plants, gidgee trees (a type of acacia), dry river courses lined with river red gums, coolibahs, emus, and rocks—lots of rocks. Stopped at Horton Park, an old sheep station now in ruins but used as recently as the 1950s. Passed the South Torrens Bore, which marks the southern edge of the Artesian Bore. Miles and miles of rocks—it amazes me that this area ever got explored, let alone settled. Kangaroos—reds. Actually, the males are red, but the females, called blue flyers, are blue/gray. And more emus. Males incubate the eggs and raise the young. (I’ve seen more emus in the last two days than I’ve seen in my three previous trips combined.)

Richard noted that these gibber plains are known as Mitchell grass plans in the spring, when they are green.

Stop at Mt. Wood Station, a historic site begun around 1890. Still standing are the homestead, shearers’ quarters, shearing shed, and wool scouring shed.

Continuing on, headed for Tibooburra, Richard commented that the road to Tibooburra used to be considered one of the worst roads in Australia. Hard to imagine how much worse it could be and still be passable. Lots of rocks.

In Tibooburra, stopped at the Charles Sturt memorial at the Pioneer Park. Sturt came through Tibooburra as he searched for a route north—and for an inland sea that he felt must exist. The memorial includes a copy of a boat that Sturt brought along on his exploration, just in case he found that sea, which he never did. (If you’ve read my book, Waltzing Australia, you may remember the poem I wrote titled “Sturt’s Revenge,” when I got trapped in an outback flood.) Took a few photos around town and then back to our camp site.

It’s a beautiful evening. The sky is cloudless. Galahs and magpies keep flashing through camp. The sun is setting, making the already beautiful spot absolutely magical. I’m so glad we spent a couple of days here.

Richard has the maps out and we’re planning tomorrow’s journey up the Strzlecki Track toward Innaminka. Before he became a bush guide, Richard was a history and geography teacher, so he shares more information than just directions. Then it was time to fix dinner.

Euros are feeding nearby, a magpie is begging for handouts, galahs are chattering in the trees. Wonderful. One young euro was right at the edge of our camp and didn’t seem to even notice when Nikki turned the flashlight on it. Must be used to campers.

The Milky Way is unbelievable—so dramatic in this hemisphere. But now it’s time to go to bed, as we have an early start tomorrow.