Postcard from Boodjamulla

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(Lawn Hill National Park Outback NW Qld)

‘Well its not uncommon, through December, for temperatures to get tio 38 Deg Celcius at midnight…
...but its that dry heat, you know...Ill take that over only 30degC in Brisbane anyday.’
What the…?

The irrationality of the Queenslander continues to confound me. I can still only equate this to the high proportion of deadly and unpleasant things (snakes, box jellys, crocs, sandflies, funnelwebs, ross river, qld health system etc) that one must contest with on a daily basis here. Combined of course with a given amount of brain shrinkage caused by heat.

It’s the type of country where 90km between road signs gives you something to look forward to on the long and straight roads that lead from nowhere to even more nowhere. A regular train service out here would be the 'go', particularly if it could carry caravans and Winnebagos. I reckon that alone would halve the diesel demand in the country. such a fuel reduction would of course be accompanied by a similar reduction in conversation time by every Caravanner, Retiree and Truckies and roadstop Manager from Cairns to Carnavon. More time spent on food preparation and less on discussions of petrol prices with boring tourists coudl potential cause a catastrophoc increase in roadhouse food quality a consequence that can only be resultant of wishful thinking.

Besides how would anyone know the location of the upcoming Coles discount fuel outlets if that happened. I dread to think how it may stop the number one showstopping conversation starter in these parts. Although less vehciles could mean an imprvement in the lifestyle of the native fauna - who’s lot is burdened enough by the local climate than to have to contest with poor driving during twilight hours aswell.


Although, of course, having wished that, I find there is in fact a there is a train out here. And tracks and stations too, lying somewhere beneath the dust and geckos supposedly- but its is undeniable untenable unprofitable. Because if travelling across this vast country has taught me anything it is (apparently) that:
‘TRUCKS KEEP AUSTRALIA MOVING’.

Back in Boodjamulla, a place where people met to rejoice in a true desert oasis for over 30, 000 years and animals have congreagated and evolved here for millennia. This deep chasm is chocked full of fresh water abundant marine life, and sleeping sediments that house million year old great-great grand-fossils to the current living species. An undeniable spectacle of biodiversity and a tangible reminder of the beauty that only remoteness can harbour. Or more depressingly, the corollary - a reality check of the potential loss that human enforce when bitumen roads provide thoroughfares on which capitalists paws prey and stalk.

This remote, bitumen-less place is located in Queensland, adjunct on the Northern Territory border, and only about 100km south of the Gulf of Carpentaria. The area surrounding this paradise is truly rugged, and the only thing between it and the tropical waters of the Gulf of Capentaria is an frighteningly named ‘Hells Gate Roadhouse’. And the 150km of corregated dust that the Qld roads department has the gall to gazette as a road can take you little else but back where you came from eastwards or south to the sleepy town transient town of Camooweal - last stop before the NT border and the ThreeWays road house ( the place we would later regret to have visited, Glen would learn to find a spot for the spare car key, outside the car, and where we learnt that of you ever attempt to rely on flipping a coin for some direction in life. Never disobey the coins. Ever…)
The road south, through the empty badlands of the Riversleigh Fossil Field, had a few river crossings at the start but is a relatively tame road, one can 40km.h most of the way. But not without its hiccups and not one to take lightly, nor without considerable bracing, ample water, regassed airconditioning, good music and a oversupply of sense of humour, especially in a November after 5 years of drought. Lets face it this is a place that only those obsessively dedicated to the study of things dead buried forgotton and decomposed can truly appreciate. The Australian Archaeologists.

My appreciation was of course limited only by my ignorance. And such ignorance is extended fully by the armour of historical knowledge bestowed on me after many Wednesday winter nights yawning at Trivial Pursuit questions at Andy McKays house, in the mid-90s, after The Roast, and after Seinfeld.

As it turned out, I, too, found out how to appreciate real beauty in the incredible abundance of fossilised goodies in this dry and dusty plain. It was engineered after a quick dash to the entrance of the informative man made sauna-cave at the entrance. I sped photographed the info signs, I dashed back to the air con of the car leaving only my bucket of sweat pooling on the dirt as evidence I had even been there at all. It too, as ephemeral as my learning potential at this point. Notwithstanding, I did consciensciously seek to reread lonely planet version of what was outside the window, and as I edited my digital camera images for later filing, I could truly appreciate what lay before me.

As a true tourist, I succame to the indifference that some sees in the faces of bus loads of tourists at the Blue Mountains - and allowed myself the luxury of not bloody bothering - just this once. In my pregnant state, in the heat, after camping in breezeless (though beautiful) Lawn Hill NP, it was the bloody least I could do. The 5km walk to see those very old dead things in real ‘life’ seemed somewhat quizzical.. It dawned on me that it was just this type of climate that probably put them in there in the first place.

All this as I see GC heading speedily for the car after returning form his over zealous 5km walk around to appreciate the truly significant moment I was ignoring. In the car he sweats, and says to me wide eyed and after a litre of water goes inand back out again. Have you already been out there, I rushed it all to get back here for you to get a good look yourself. Woops.

On a more save the planet notion, the billion year old fossils that scientists continue to research today across the fossil field ( presumedly in cooler weather , by remote control or using Google Earth) are actual closely related descendents of the creatures still here ( until the roads get paved perhaps). The wildlife of today are, indeed, ‘living fossils’. More miraculously, some animals previously thought extinct, like the Lawn Hill Snapping Turtle have turned up lurking in the deep chasms of the waterbody. Having snapped while someone was quiet enough to hear it I suppose.

But it is clearly not possible to relay the true essence of the place. Such as the crisp clear water (with that rainwater tang of clean dirt that lingers on the sides and the backs of your tongue) all too resident and resonant. A beauty that one experiences in such a sensuous way, is only able to be transcribed into words by the most apt of poet. Or by taking a trip there yourself. Just like the three men we saw in the reort later that day. Who by coincidence, knew Glen, and bantered with us about the beauty of this ittle gem. Somehow seeming all too refreshed and relaxed, for our liking, only to tell us they might stay another night because it was so charming, and besides one of them want due back at work at all since he’d retired so was happy to pilot the private plane they’d nipped up here in.

How can I describe the swimming and splashing and indulging we had in the cool crisp fish-laden waters. Where the water drips off your overheated skin like honey, as it tries to cool you down, but tricks you and evaporates and drips away, somewhere. And the slight breeze ( that comes once a day for about 4 seconds) somehow convinces you that it is worth staying later despite the imagination lurking in the deeper parts of the canyon, and gleefully playing tricks on you at the back of your mind.

The sunset reflects long shadows off every crevice on the eastern side of the ravine. The same sharp patches echo in the water below, until the dissecting black line from the western wall eventually swallows up it all - the water, the plants and the rest of the gully, and us in our kayaak also left in twilight. It too descends quickly and the lazy freshwater croc frozen on the bank to reveals itself in this noisy, busy tropical home as we paddle home.

These picturesque swimming holes from an ancient world evoke hollywood movie scenes or artists impressions of what life was like with dinosaurs and tropical triffod-like plants towering from both sides. The oxygen, so thick, so liberating you can feel it washing and cleansing over your skin as you move through the place. The pristine water quality, defies what logic would tell you is a haven for a predictably large amount of remnant yucky things, given the volume of wildlife living around here it is in balance and is indeed the awesome giver of life.

The immeasurable bidoversity - the iconic age of the rocks. It is all spectacular.

Harder too, is defining the emissions that seems to ooze from the living things. Those that make both noise and their home here. It is as though they radiate a gratefulness for being given the gift of life, in such an otherwise barren world . Everyone just wants to get on, flourish and enjoy it all and let us all know. There is a cacophony of happiness and cheerfulness. A euphoric bliss.

Even the wild black bores that turn up one midnight to nuzzle and stroll through our campsite appear inoffensive when you catch a glimpse of the six tiny pale pink piglets trailing behind.

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Photos

the lillies
lawn hill was full of these wonderful flowers, and combined with the lilly pads they harboured more than the imagination cared to know.

the forrest
The forrest that meanders over and through the ravine offers a spectacle of reflections

the kyaaks
Callum docking for a toilet stop after a big morning swimming and paddling. After this photo was taken, we all fell asleep for an hour or so at the top of the stairs. It wasnt the most comfortable sleep but in the heat of the day in that place we didnt care. Phew!