Gone Bush

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OUR 4000KM WALKABOUT
Having spent approximately two months in Moreton Bay at the RQYS Marina, we decided to venture into the ‘outback’ and ‘Go Bush’ as it’s described here down under, see something of the wild, wide open, red earth spaces. Our friend Paul kindly loaned us his Land Rover Defender - the perfect vehicle for such an adventure.
Driving on day one took us to the Warrumbungle National Park (a wonderful name for an exquisite volcanic range of mountainous spires) ; about 9 hours on sealed roads. 100km an hour, windows down, 32 degrees centigrade to keep us cozy on our travels - the ideal outfit - a cool bikini. After constant rainfall for about a month, we found the hinterland of Queensland and New South Wales to be green and lush; quite the contrast to the previous decade of drought and the wasteland-appearance as a consequence.
Day two was another long driving experience but we reached our destination of Wilcannia at dusk and set up the tent for the second night under canvas, this time beside the Darling River, one of the most important waterways for transporting livestock and trading goods in the bygone era. Our first observation, and not our last, was that the flies and mosquitoes had voracious appetites, are intent on landing on your face - particularly on the eyeball, inside the ear, in the mouth and up the nose. On swatting them no sooner has your hand been raised than they’ve pre-empted your move and are lodged in another cavity. We decided that being inside the tent was to be our only option for surviving their unwanted invasions. Walter braved the elements and prepared our evening meals as insect repellant hardly deterred the devils when it came to Tigs and her magnetic attraction for biting insects.
On awaking on day three, the sound of buzzing greeted us. That’s not entirely true, the first sound was that of the cockatiels, and what a welcome sound that is by contrast. Several dozen in the vicinity joined together in the chorus and gave aerial displays swooping from tree to tree in our campground - their great crests displayed as they joined partners on their final choice of branch and preened themselves thoroughly. There was then a mad dash to break camp and escape before flies swarmed but they were upon us as the zip passed the first tooth. We didn’t need to time ourselves, it was well inside 15 minutes from horizontal in sleeping bags to burning rubber on the road, swotting and cursing.
Wilcannia had been an important town in the 1800’s primarily because of its wharf on the Darling River, considered the lifeblood of pastoralists. Wool was brought into the town by bullock teams and camel trains. River boats and paddle steamers then carried the cargo via the Murray River in South Australia onto Port Elliot, then eventually onto ships bound for England. One of the nearby sheep stations owned 16 paddle steamers. Wilcannia, once known as the Queen City of the West and settled in the 1880’s it became the third largest inland port in Australia. Several sandstone buildings of this era exist including the courthouse, gaol and post office with iron lacework but it was hardly captivating stuff. Literally millions of sheep grazed this land and fleeces were the main revenue source; that is before consumers developed a taste for manmade fibres such as nylon and polyester. Wilcannia is now dead on its feet, a ghost town with a dying population and nothing of interest for tourists or locals. No hanging around Wilcannia for us…. onto the fascinating town of White Cliffs and its mining history.
At this point I should explain that the route for our trip came about, and was indeed inspired by Bill Bryson in his book Down Under where he wittily recounts his time exploring this area by 4wd. I don’t have his way with words, wit or talent but I think we had as enjoyable a time as he did, despite the fly invasions. As we approached White Cliffs we saw the moonscape scenery before us, a large field of solar collectors, a small uninspiring town and two pockmarked hillscapes. White Cliffs is described as a true sunburnt country with many of its local’s homes being underground. To escape the summer heat these homes, called ‘dugouts’ were built in opal mine shafts, where the temperature is constant throughout the year at 22 degrees centigrade. Kangaroo shooters first found the white crystal opals on the ground in 1889 and a year later a rush was on, with the first claim being registered. The current population is 150 whereas thousands of miners had descended to make their fortunes, and many didn’t survive the hard life. The Visitor’s Centre was the first port of call, always unmanned but housing all the leaflets of interesting sights. After the obligatory bundle of maps and pamphlets were collected, we made our way to the general store/restaurant for brunch. Time to explore an opal mine on Turley’s Hill…the guided tour was provided at PJ’s B&B, our home for the night. Walter and I needed to escape the dreadful flies and had longed to reinact Fred and Wilma from the Flintstones, by sleeping in a cave (mineshaft) with a 64 million year old roof. Yabba Dabba Do.
Day four took us south to the Mutawintji National Park campground. The burnt red mountain range cuts through the park, and creek beds spread through the gullies like veins. It is said the area contains the tracks of ancestral spirits, which since ancient times have made this the neutral ground for a number of tribes who gather for initiation and rainmaking ceremonies. These traditions have occurred for thousands of years, leaving behind engravings, stencils and ochre paintings. Hundreds of stunningly colourful birds, of the parrot family, seen over the past few days but not many sheep which was surprising. Emu’s and kangaroo’s were now the most common sight up close and bouncing off in the distance.
After the quickest decamp-dash in history we were on the road for Broken Hill otherwise known as Silver City. It is worthy of comment that our theory regarding fly-evasion was to remain in the vehicle and drive throughout the day, arrive at our overnight destination just in time to enjoy a sunset, erect the tent, eat a meal and dive for the safety of the tent or camping hammock. This proved a workable solution to the fly problem, which cannot be overstated as the most annoying affliction on the planet.
On arriving in Broken Hill we were invited as often the signposts would indicate, to enjoy this neat and tidy town. For more than 40,000 years Aboriginal people have lived in this area. The Wiljakali people lived in the saltbush and mulga country where the town stands today. Sir Thomas Mitchell was the first European to discover the region in 1841 and by 1860 the Aboriginal people’s traditional nomadic hunter/gatherer way of life had ended abruptly. Herds of sheep ravaged the ancient hunting grounds and water sources were fenced off. The people were decimated by disease and those who survived had to take up jobs as stockmen on sheep stations. However by the mid 1870’s many of the smaller sheep stations were no longer viable and were bought up by entrepreneurs. Miners took an interest in gold prospecting in the 1880’s and the ore body, 7km long, was destined to become the largest and richest of its kind in the world; a silver, lead and zinc lode yielding minerals worth more than $100 billion. The population grew to over 20,000 but today it looks like another town appearing to be ‘hanging in there’ drawing upon tourists to explore the mining history.
Another hot day so we continued south via Menindee to the Mungo National Park housing lakes which haven’t contained water for over 15,000 years. We drove across Lake Mungo which is archaeologically significant because of the history contained within the sand. The sand dunes on the eastern edge of the lake are called the Walls of China, (moon shaped and hence called lunettes) and were formed when the lakes were full, which is also when tribes lived here permanently, sustained by a diet of fish, reptiles, marcupials, eggs, seeds and fruit. As a result, artefacts were buried within the lunettes and preserved for thousands of years by the alkalinity of the sand and soil. Over time the wind dislodged the loose sand within the dunes, uncovering miniature peaks and gullies carved out in storms thousands of years ago. Cremated remains of Mungo Man and Mungo Woman were found in this area and have been carbon-dated to approximately 60,000 years - making them the oldest evidence of ritualized burial on earth. The National Park protects over 880 sq km and 17 dry lake beds and whilst the campsite looked inviting with the Range Rover Club members from Sydney to chat with, we opted for the Mungo Lodge with its crisp white bedlinen, satellite TV and sumptuous bathroom, not to mention a French cook. Something to celebrate - the giftshop sold flynets to place over hats - if only we’d found these sooner! Our first sighting of a Red Kangaroo today.
A ten hour drive to reach our favourite campsite, the one where flies hadn’t driven us totally insane, Warrumbungle (meaning crooked mountain) National Park. The oil light in the vehicle had started flickering on intermittently the previous day so we called into a garage for the morning to fix the problem. We arrived late in the evening which meant a slow drive after sunset to avoid killing kangaroos, who have absolutely no road sense. A night under canvas followed by a visit to the Siding Spring Observatory, Australia’s largest optical astronomy research facility located 27 kilometres west of Coonabarabran on the edge of the National Park. In the evening a fascinating night of stargazing with Peter Starr at the Warrumbungle Observatory. The last day in New South Wales and the outback, was spent exploring and walking around under the barren spires formed by volcanic activity over 13 million years ago. This mountain range supports plants and animals of the moist east coast and the dry western plains so is referred to as the place where east meets wests. The diversity of landform, microclimate and vegetation provides habitat for many animals including koala, emu, wallaby and eastern grey kangaroo. For many thousands of years before the Europeans settled, Aboriginal people visited these mountains. Three separate language groups bordered the area, the Kamilaroi, the Kawambarai and the Weilwan and many artefacts have been found of stone tool production over the years.
Our last day on the road before reaching Moreton Bay and our home Marnie didn’t quite work out as planned. At 8pm we stopped to refuel and discovered a high pitch sound from the engine. Several people crowded around the vehicle to give advice and diagnose the problem including a mobile mechanic who advised that it shouldn’t be driven. An overnight stop in Ipswich, a suburb of Brisbane and just half an hour’s drive from our final destination - nearly made it, but not quite! The next day a tow truck took us to the nearest Land Rover mechanic, where the cooling fan bearing was replaced - a day in the workshop for the vehicle and a cinema/shopping trip for us - what a change from the bush.

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Photos

Creek water depth indicator
When flash flooding occurs these creeks fill to the 2 metre mark. As it had been raining for one month to the north of this region, they were expecting the creeks to fill within the next few days and for the roads to be impassable. In fact many roads were already closed and alternative routes chosen.

The lifeline to Broken Hill
A water supply from Menindee, without which the town could not have been inhabited.

Comments

[donna & mason]

jelousy
tigs you have gone professinal !!!