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.

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 10, Part 2

On the road again, we continued north before swinging eastward. As trees thinned, we saw eagles taking advantage of telegraph poles, and a couple of poles were topped by eagle nests.

In a few hours, we were surrounded by nearly flat, rocky, red, scrub-covered country that seemed unrelated to the rolling green countryside from which we had departed this morning. Saltbush became common. An occasional dead tree was filled with corellas (small, white cockatoos).

Before long, the highway was the primary sign of human habitation, along with an occasional sign, as we crossed increasingly rugged terrain. Wonderful. This is what I had come for.

At one point, Richard pointed out the sign for Radium Hill, which was just south of the highway. This was the site of Australia’s first uranium mine, which operated for roughly the first half of the 20th century.

I was astonished and delighted by all the kangaroos we saw grazing in or near dry creek beds not far from the highway. I imagine the traffic here is light enough to not scare them away—but still regular enough that they aren’t as bold as the unfortunate wallaroo that collided with us last time I was out bush with Nikki and Richard (Trip 3).

Quick stop in Cockburn, which is right on the state border. Charming little, old town. Cockburn was established in 1886 to facilitate the transport by train of ore from Broken Hill in neighboring New South Wales into South Australia—because here, too, the rail gauge changed between the two states. I took a photo of the railway water tower—and then we drove across the border into New South Wales (NSW).

More corellas. More red rocks. And finally, into Broken Hill. So much history here—most of which I know from a visit to the geology museum in Sydney during my first trip to Australia. The ragged, broken-looking hill in the town’s name is thought to be the largest lead-zinc-silver ore deposit in the world. It is because of this ore that the town exists. Among the best-known abbreviations in Australia is BHP, for Broken Hill Proprietary, the company founded in 1885 to handle mining at this site.

As we drove into town, Richard pointed out a few highlights, including the stunningly large and crowded cemetery. (Mining was dangerous.) He also pointed out some iron houses that came prefab from England early in the town’s history. Can’t imagine having an iron house in the heat experienced here.

We reached the local campsite more than an hour before sunset. Richard had the “kitty” (we had each contributed a couple hundred dollars, to cover gasoline, campground fees, meals consumed in camp, and any other communal travel expenses), so he settled our account, and then we got busy setting up camp.

Then it was back in the car to drive the roughly 15 miles to Silverton, where we had a view back over the plain we’d crossed—a terrain that I’d actually seen before only on the silver screen—because it was here that the movie “Mad Max/The Road Warrior” was shot. Glorious sunset. Then a brief stop at the Silverton Hotel, where they shot part of the great mini-series “A Town Like Alice.”

Back in town, we stopped for dinner at a Chinese restaurant, and then returned to camp for coffee and stargazing. Because there are so few lights out here, the stars are amazing—a great sparkling swath across the darkness. Glorious. Saw the Southern Cross for the first time this trip. Happy end to the day.

Trip 4: August 10, Part 1

Not quite light yet when I rose. Packed and got my bag to the front door. We had breakfast and then got busy with preparations. This included running cats around the corner for boarding at the vet’s. Nikki invited me along, so I could see where she works. Nice facility and charming co-workers. Then back home.

We (though mostly Richard) packed the car (4WD) and hooked up the camping trailer. Last thing we did before pulling out of the driveway was write down the mileage showing on the odometer. Want to know just how much ground we’re covering. And then we hit the road.

It was a lovely morning, and sunlight and streaks and puffs of cloud in the blue sky highlighted and dappled the beautiful, rolling, green countryside. Vineyards gave way to green fields dotted with sheep or cattle. Glorious country, and splendidly green this time of year. Punctuating the greenery were numerous wonderful, old towns: Kapunda, on the Light River, the oldest mining town in Australia; Hamilton, in the Mount Lofty Range, once a stop for mining carts moving north from Adelaide; Marabel, famed for its annual rodeo, Saddleworth, on the Gilbert River; and Manoora, at the entrance to the Barrier Highway. All charming, especially to me, after a few years away.

Richard related that when the massive silver, lead, and zinc ore deposit was discovered at the spot now known as Broken Hill, the Cornish miners from Kapunda loaded their gear into wheelbarrows and pushed them all the way to Broken Hill, mostly along the route now traversed by the Barrier Highway. Since we, too, were heading for Broken Hill, we turned onto the Barrier Highway.

This route took us through Burra—a delightful town that is even more charming than I remembered. (I rhapsodized about it somewhat both in my book and in a couple of posts from my first trip, if you want to go back there and learn more and see photos. But if nothing else, my first interest was because it was where they shot the astonishingly good movie Breaker Morant.)

Left turn at Burra and follow the signs to Broken Hill.

A lot of the small towns are hurting financially, and fighting to hang on. Nikki said that even Burra was struggling. I understand why, but it still saddens me. Same thing is happening in many small towns in the U.S.

Into Terowie, another small, historic town—but with a history that touches the world. It was from the Terowie train station that General Douglas MacArthur gave his “I shall return” speech during WWII. At that time, everyone had to change trains in Terowie, because different gauges were used for railroads in New South Wales and South Australia.

Richard pointed out the Institute in town. He related that, in each town, there was a club sponsored by the government where you could go to read or borrow books—precursor of today’s public library.

Within half an hour of Terowie, we crossed Goyder’s Line. We crossed this line on our last trip together, though much farther west. This line, defined in the mid-1800s by Surveyor-General George Woodroffe Goyder, offered a guide to settlers—don’t settle north of the line, as there isn’t enough rain to survive. A couple of good years, and the line was ignored, but when regular dry weather returned, those who had ignored the line were ruined. And crossing the line, the change around us was startlingly sudden. Shrubs and scrub replaced grass, and tall gum trees gave way to shorter mallee gums.

Richard pulled into a grove by the side of the road, with green hills rising off to the west. We were surrounded by silvery-green scrub and gum trees that were beginning to bloom. Nice thing about having friends who really know the country—because this was a perfect place to enjoy our picnic lunch.

Trip 3:Sunday, September 10

Leisurely morning–not up until 8:00. Because it was my last meal in their home, at least for this trip, Nikki and Richard created a really splendid breakfast and served it out on the terrace, so we could take advantage of the lovely weather. Then it was time to pack. Richard loaded my bag in the car, and we were off to Adelaide. Richard and Nikki had a few things they wanted to do in town, but Richard also had a couple of things he wanted me to experienced, things I had missed on previous visits to Adelaide. I happily left the day’s plans to him.

We did a bit of shopping along the pedestrian mall section of Rundle Street, where cafés and eateries appear to outnumber boutiques. No one really wanted to rush around, so after Nikki bought a few things she needed, we just ordered tea, settled at an empty table, just talked for a while. After having their carefully made plans go so terribly wrong, Nikki and Richard had been fairly stressed, but today, they were unwinding at last. Also, with Richard no longer in his outback guide role, he could relax. The conversation was both stimulating and light-hearted–and it would make it that much harder to leave.

Artwork on Rundle Street

But Richard still had those two things he wanted me to experience, and it was several hours before we had to be at the airport. First stop was the Adelaide O-Bahn, a “guided busway.” Buses pull onto the O-Bahn, and then, like a train, they are guided by the tracks. This takes buses out of city traffic, as cars can’t go on the tracks. No stop lights or competing traffic. No holding up cars when the bus stops. Nifty.

On the O-Bahn

We took a bus for the 12-kilometer/7.5-mile ride up the Torrens Gorge. Transit was smooth, swift, and safe, and the surroundings were beautifully landscaped. The bus simply pulls off when it reaches one of the stops along the route, and then pulls back on. Really brilliant concept. However, since our purpose was just using the O-Bahn, we didn’t disembark; we simply returned to our starting point.

For lunch, we enjoyed Indian food and more excellent conversation. Then we headed over to Victoria Square. I had seen the Glenelg Tram on my first visit, but just witnessed it stopping here at the square. This time, we would ride it. The tram is a classic electric tram—the last one in Adelaide. The interior is old fashioned and handsome, with abundant brass and wood and leather trim.

Glenelg Tram

The tram runs the 15 kilometers/9.3 miles from Adelaide city center to the Victorian-era, beachside town of Glenelg. The tram carried us through a trendy part of town into old suburbs, then to vintage rural areas to the seaside in a few minutes. But no time to linger in Glenelg. We had to return to Adelaide, get the car, and head for the airport.

As we drove out of the city, I wondered why I felt so much less like I was in Australia here than I did out bush. I love Australian cities, and Adelaide is a delightful place. But it’s the wild places that cling to my heart. Maybe it’s because cities are so much a part of “real life” that they don’t offer me the sense of escape that the outback does. I do realize I couldn’t live in the wilderness, but I do love the rugged beauty–and being truly “unplugged.” That said, I was quite happy with the things we’d done today.

Nikki and Richard came into the airport with me, and I bought coffee and tea, and we sat and chatted until it was time for me to head out to the boarding area. I left them hoping I’d see them again, and maybe even have new adventures. I feel blessed to have such friends.

The flight was bumpy but otherwise uneventful. It was raining as we landed in Melbourne. Judy and Geoff were waiting for me at the airport. They look great; semi-retirement clearly suits them.

They had gotten a new Land Rover since my last visit, though they assured me the one I knew was still at the house, reserved for hauling supplies for the horses and garden. We wound through Melbourne’s suburbs and out and up into the Dandenong Mountains, arriving at their lovely mountainside ranch at roughly 10:30 p.m.

The three of us enjoyed a cup of tea and talked about what we’ll do this week. Then I headed off to their delightful guestroom with its regally high brass bed. It’s good to be here again.

September 9, Part 2

The weather was beautiful, the sky was clear, and it was, again, a lovely drive. Galahs, eagles, corellas, crows, ruins, flowering gum trees, mistletoe, sheep, horses, an ostrich farm. Always something to see.

Arriving in Quorn, we spent some time admiring the handsome, antique steam train that would take us on our tour. There is something evocative about its appearance and even more so about the sounds—the hiss of the steam brakes, the chuff, chuff, chuff of the engine. This is an important train-preservation location, so most of the people here are real enthusiasts—and those running the operations, from engineers to conductors to ticket sellers, are all volunteers.

The train was full, so they put us in the guard’s van, the car in which guards and break men traveled, in order to have a good view of any problems that might occur on the train. The open half-doors on both sides actually gave us a better view than the windows in the passenger cars.

And we were off on a brilliant one-hour ride to Woolshed Flat that took us through fields of wildflowers and among rolling hills.

The conductor said that, if I’d seen the movie Gallipoli (I have), I might recognize some of the countryside. I already knew from my last trip that Quorn, especially its train station, had appeared in Gallipoli, as well as numerous other Australian films, but learned that Pichi Richi Pass and parts of the Flinders Ranges also appeared in the movie.

We stopped in Woolshed Flat for tea and scones, then reboarded the train for the return trip to Quorn. (Different seats this time, so different view from and of the train.)

And then it was time to head for home. However, Richard took us by back roads, rather than the highway—more inland, and more scenic. Saw a few new places and some familiar from previous trips, and loved it all. Wilmington, Melrose (still lovely and charming, with old, well-kept buildings and massive river red gums), Murray Town, Wirrabara, Stone Hut, Laura (boyhood home of C.J. Dennis), and Gladstone—the point at which, at the beginning of our trip, we had turned toward Port Pirie. Charming old railway town, with wonderful Victorian hotels and train station. Through Georgetown, not stopping this time, retracing the beginning of our little trip.

We enjoyed an amazing moonrise—full moon hanging, huge and yellow, on the horizon.

Into Clare just before 7:00 p.m. We stopped for dinner at Bentley’s Bistro, in the wonderful, old, 1865 Bentley Hotel. Enjoyed our meal, but didn’t linger, as we still were an hour and a half away from the Barossa Valley.

Pulled into Richard and Nikki’s driveway after 9:00 and quickly unpacked the ute. Then we relaxed for a while, chatting, and looking at books about Australia, until we could stay awake no longer.

Trip 3:Saturday, September 9, Part 1

After a good night’s sleep (beds are not a bad thing), we started the day with a good breakfast while watching the financial news. When we stepped outside, I dashed off to take a couple of photos–gum trees (eucalypts) blossoming–because even here, there is wonderful beauty. Then we packed the ute and headed out into the day.

First stop was the Australian Arid Lands Botanic Garden. Here, they showcase the plants that are ideally suited to climates like this one (green now, but most of the year is dry). They also encourage people to landscape with plants that do well in arid regions, to conserve water while still being surrounded by beauty.

Arid Regions Garden

We stopped next to check on the trailer and get an estimate for when Richard can expect to get it back.

Next, to the Wadlata Outback Center, a fascinating information center and tourist attraction that uses displays, videos, models, and slide shows to relate the history of the Outback. It covers Aboriginal Dreamtime, the geological history of the continent and region, explorations and explorers (Giles, Eyre, Sturt, and Stuart), homesteading, wool, wheat, disaster, plants and wildlife, the pedal radio, the School of the Air, the Flying Doctor Service, the Birdsville postman, trade, trains, and life in the huge iron-, gold-, and uranium-mining communities. Delightful museum.

Then on the road to Quorn, to catch our ride on the Pichi Richi railway.