Day 9 - In which we have an adventure on the Wildflower mud map route

Saturday 25 September

Mum is all abuzz when I stop by her room at 6:15.  “Guess what was outside” she says with eyes bright with excitement.  “Something good, I heard them calling close by but didn’t rush out to look.” I reply.  “Not these” mum says her tone suggesting she has scooped the pool. I wait with anticipation until she finally breaks the suspense “Two Bourke’s Parrots!!! Flew into the tree just out there a little while ago!! ”  She continues organizing her chemical cocktail ie regime of medications clearly anticipating an early departure.

“What’s happening?” she asks.  I say “well at the very least we’re heading up to Ledknapper.  “Aren’t we going to Eulo? I’ve told all my friends I’m going to see the monument to Destructo.”  I’m impressed. It’s not often mum shows that much overt enthusiasm for any particular activity.  Good ol’ Destructo the Racing Cockroach has really captured our imaginations.

I’m a bit torn today. I really fancy having a campfire and jaffles by a billabong under a coolabah tree here near Bourke too, but Lednapper and the wildflowers mud map route is a must do for this trip with the drought breaking and all. Daughter has decided she’ll need to opt out today so she can study. She hasn’t got as much study in day by day as she had planned, and that clinical exam is coming up all too soon. This leaves me without a back up driver and I’m feeling pretty tired, so I’m not sure I can commit to such a long day as Lednapper and Eulo together, but we'll see how we go.

Mum and I make a reasonable get away, similar to yesterday at about 6:45 am.  I even remember to fill the car with juice.  We muck about doing a reccie down by the river and the billabongs nearby, looking for a handy coolabah tree.  We can see coolabahs by billabongs. Nothing doing though.  The road on the southern side of the bridge comes to a deadend and the billabongs seem to be on fenced private land.  On the northern side of the road, around what the locals call North Bondi, the roads are pretty mangled and I soon lose interest in exploring further for fear of getting stuck.  So there will be no camping under a coolabah tree by a billabong for us afterall.  Sigh. Seems to me someone is missing out on a wonderful business opportunity.  I would cheerfully pay a site usage fee for a suitable venue to indulge this dearly loved cliché.  I’m a bit surprised no one has thought to take advantage of…oops I mean assist… city folk such as ourselves in this way.

Time is a tickin’ away…Back to the business of our day.. its straight up the Mitchell Highway (aka the Kidman Way) for about 50 kms, then we turn towards Lednapper Crossing. Now on the dirt. Our mud map guide tells us that until the crossing its stone country but after that you get to red sand hill country.  I’m wondering if this “crossing” involved water and what sort of bottom it might be. At any rate we’ve got 30 kms on a fairly stony but well graded dirt road before that becomes an issue.  

I pull over to record a visual reminder of this part of the journey. It’s still cool outside and on opening the windows I am hit again with a powerful fragrance emanating from the bushland. It is a fabulous aroma and I breathe deep and sigh with pleasure.  Mum’s window is down too.  “Hmmm” she says. “Maned wolf country”.  Perhaps its relevant to note, mum doesn’t like that smell that I absolutely love.. LOL

By a little after 8 am we are passing little bushes smothered in informal white daisies. Cassia bushes with their yellow cup shaped blossoms have been a consistent feature for some time and are well represented also. 

Hiding slightly behind the roadside plants is a subtle little tea tree with tiny white flowers with richer burgundy centres giving an overall effect to the bush of blush pink.  Pretty pale pink eremophila style flowers resist having their close up taken, but the shrub is pretty.

It is slow going as we keep having to stop for a closer look at things.  Having come all this way why wizz past.  Australian wildflowers are generally delicate things and best appreciated up close.

We’re still not at the crossing when we spot the first of the inland bearded dragons that have appropriated the road and its environs for a bit of pleasant basking or displaying.  We stop and take a portrait and this lizard isn’t the slightest bit bothered by us being here up close and personal.  They are quite impressive when they get concerned.  They flatten out so their body is like a hand drill’s wheel and they turn black and puff out their beard.. not this guy though. This one is completely relaxed.

Moving on there’s a kangaroo lying in the road. I slow down and pass by.  Then something clicks in my mind and says… was that legs sticking out of a pouch on that roo?  Now where I have lived we have been well schooled that if you see a roadkill marsupial, you should be sure to check its pouch for young.  You are even encouraged to carry a can of fluorescent spray paint to mark the carcass with a big X after you’ve check it so other people are spared the potentially unpleasant job of fossicking around in the pouch. I can do nothing else but go back and check.  Notwithstanding that I have no clue what I’m going to do with a joey if one should be there. At home its fairly simple if found they should be passed on to WIRES (the Wildlife Information Education and Rescue Service).  I have no idea if WIRES have carers out here.

I park the car and hop out to walk back to the deceased roo.  I haven’t gone very far before I see the pouch is clearly moving. There is definitely a live joey in there.  What to do now?  I will need something to put it in.  Mum suggests a shopping bag.  Good thinking 99.  I believe I have a calico shopping bag in the soft esky, that would make a handy substitute pouch.  We know that Joeys are most reassured by being in a bag rather than a box. Makes sense doesn’t it seeing they like in a pouch.  

I approach the carcass. First things first. Evidence of how I came by this protected baby animal.  Photograph of legs protruding from dead roo.  Now, how does one go about extracting a frightened joey from it’s dead mother’s pouch?  I push on the back of the pouch.  Hmmm. I have a bit of a go of seeing where the various bits of this baby are. It is all legs. My god joeys this age have huge huge legs compared to the rest of it.  Luckily on prodding from behind this little guy gets its head and shoulders out near the pouch opening and I manage to drag it out.  A quick inspection for injuries. No apparent injuries to anywhere other than some slight damage to the tail. I quickly pop young joey in the bag.  It seems instantly at home.  We take some more photos for the record.

I feel the cute little guy’s paws. They are cool.  I prod the carcass. Getting quite stiff but not completely rigid. We head back to the car. Well. We are acquainted with a family who care for baby joeys from time to time and we are aware that joeys need to be fed every four hours round the clock. This guy seems pretty lively and in good nick.  We resolve to continue our loop and head back to Bourke and find out what to do with this roo.  Again my trusty off sider comes to the rescue. “Better put something under the bag in case it pees everywhere”.  Good thinking 99. Here sit the bag on this weatherproof jacket, that’ll do the trick. We’re just about to drive away. Hang on, joey is in the sun.  Joey duly relocated to shady side of car.  We figure joey won’t prefer to be held by smelly scary humans all the while, so bag is sitting on the back seat. On we go.

It’s only a short while until we come to Lednapper Crossing.  Sealed road down through a dip where the creek crosses the road.  The creek has standing water on one side of the road and is dry on the other.  Creek environs fairly uninspiring, but there is no shortage of birdsong around. 

Within about 10 mins we come to a red sand hill section and beautiful yellow grevillea are flowering.  It is a striking grevillea, very beautiful.  Here my fairly comprehensive ignorance of the wildflowers here is going to show quite clearly.  There were shrubs with abundant rich blue flowers, a sort of hop bush type plant, clearly growing in large numbers and all of them heavily weighed down with the colourful seed pods.  A pinky mauve bush too, covered in flowers. Many individual beauties.

A bit further along and a stop is dictated by a massive clump of the blue flowered plant.  It’s sandier here, but I pull up on a firm area of ground.  Out of the car I unthinkingly start clod hoppering about and then notice, the sand is covered in tracks. Closest to my own are an emu. Cool. I follow the tracks where the emu has crossed the road.  I return to task and photograph the flowers.  Heading back to the car.. more tracks.. this would be a lizard I reckon.  Two bars together.. I think that’s a roo.  This sandy country is pretty nifty really.

Ten past ten we finally make it into Lednapper Nature Reserve.  More of the same flowers at first. Then we are rewarded by an extraordinary beauty, the subtlety of which would be completely lost if you stay in your car.  This one is really special.

Our next landscape of note is heavily endowed with lovely spinifex.  Well, I guess it’s easy to call it lovely spinifex when you don’t have to walk amongst it.  Spinifex is nicely spikey and irritating. 

The scene changes and we hit a very pretty stretch that is decked out in soft grey green as the road sweeps around a corner.  Along the course of this mud map route we pass through a range of different vegetation types reflecting the changes to the soil below. The changes are quite marked and sudden.  There is nothing monotonous about this drive.

Now along the course of the day we see a LOT of lizards. It is spring. Inland Bearded Dragons breed during this time and roads are a wonderful purpose build lizard courting performance environment. Our second dragon for the day was perched at the top of a dead shrub.  Others are spotted on the road bobbing their heads up and down. One or two are even observed waving their arms at someone indicating, “come on over big boy”.. but here, here we have a lizard that is going all out.  Lizard gymnastics. Nadia Comaneci eat your heart out.

We move from the reserve out along the road to Enngonia into a more open environment of pastureland.  Grazing country by the look of it.  here there are gentle strokes of purple darling pea, and daubs of yellow. 
Daisies we presume in the main. 

Occassionally there is something new. Sweet little climps of of soft pink flowers. 

More emus of course. Of course. Emus are everywhere and we never get tired of spotting them.  They run across the road. The stalk in stately ceremony across fields, they duck manically behind shrubs. Emus are awesome.  We even see a few roos in the open country too, though we can’t remember whether it’s the western greys or the red roos that have the white flags on their ears.

Along the road to Enngonia there are regular poles. Some with insulator fixtures and some with wires hanging off in obviousl dilapidation.  These poles are rough. Like trees just trimmed up a bit and planted in the ground. They seem to us like they must be original telegraph poles. Cool.  Its not long at all admiring these poles before we find that Nadia the lizard has some stiff competition.  Pole vaulters in the making, these athletes have made themselves at home at the top of the telegraph pole.

You would think that a bird of prey would pick them off wouldn’t you.  Ah, speaking of birds of prey, a brown falcon lands atop one of the poles.  Ironically it’s nearby an area where there is standing water and not much in the way of lizards.

Up ahead we spot three brolgas, pretty much as soon as we see them, the brolgas take flight.  We follow them around until they vanish off in the distance.  The birding along the way has been pretty awesome actually.  Our first excitement was another pink cockatoo.  Then I spotted a random bird sitting in a roadside tree. I’ve been pretty lazy on the birding front, but for some reason I decide to reverse for this one. It hops down into a clump of foliage. I can no longer see it with the naked eye, but I raise my binoculars and … surley not… good lord, it’s a crested bellbird! That black stripe down it’s head is unmistakeable.  Cool.  My first wild crested bellbird. Awesome.

And then there was the feral pig and piglets that ran quickly across the road and for cover. All in all it has been a very entertaining morning.  We are forewarned of our immenent arrival in Enngonia by a sign that asks us to drop our dust before entering town. However we’re not entirely sure what that requires us to actually do. We have been keeping a close eye on our bouncy friend its pretty lively but we figure a speedy return to town is called for.  The black top is a smooth quick ride and the scenery is still nice and in some sections lovely.

Back in Bourke we drop by the motel to get daughter. She’ll want to see the joey and then when the joey is taken care of we’ll need some lunch.  We’re on our way to the info centre when daughter spots a local vet.  We decide to try the vet first.  We note the phone number and ring from the pay phone at the info centre, we get enough time to confirm that the usual procedure is to hand the joey over to national parks staff in Bourke but she doesn’t have the phone number to give us.  Money in the phone runs out. I go in to the info centre.  The lady serving fixes us up.  She rings the parks office and fortunately there is someone working there today and they can take control of the roo.  They have some “stuff” out the back they can give her (we noticed when showing her to daughter that she has a pouch) and they have wires carers in the area.  Turns out there are a range of points of view re roos in the district. Some people would happily just put a bullet through joey’s head. Others would go to some lengths to raise her.  We figure, either way, be it the bullet or the teat, its got to be better than a slow death by the roadside.

So, joey is taken care of. Now for lunch. Quick survey. We’ll head back to Grubby Micks at the Exhibition Centre. No time to waste since it’s now already almost 2pm.  As we walk up to the entrance the staff seem to be packing away tables.  Fortunately they only look like they are closing.  Apparently there is a big function on there tonight.  The 300 person conference kicks off tonight apparently.

We sit inside this time. I back up on the caramel milkshake and a beef burger. The burger is excellent. As good as home made no worries. Milkshake good, but nowhere near as good as yesterday.  Daughter backed up on the spinach quiche and rounded that off with an iced coffee she reported as being excellent.  Mum had a steak sanga and she also reported that to be very good.  Eating at Grubby Mick’s seems like a pretty reliable option.  I’d happily recommend it.

Well, we’re pretty &%#@ed by now#. I can hardly wait for a shower to wash the dust off and a rest. ….but first, we still haven’t seen the replica Port of Bourke.  The Port of Bourke centre has been shut for the whole time we’ve been here.  The crossley engine looks well cared for. It’s pretty cool actually.  We explore the wharf, which is identical to the three wharves originally used for the river trade.  This last tick in the box its time to adjourn to the hotel.

Quick shower, unload the car and wipe out as much of the red dust as we can. Then…then I’m back to spend some dollars at the Back O Bourke Gallery.  Gale was right. I do love Jenny Greentrees work. She captures the landscape around Bourke perfectly.

..and that, as porky pig would say… is all folks.. at least for today. We shall follow by now established practice in Bourke, big lunch light tea.

We have loved the people of Bourke, we have loved the scenery and the Australiana. We have been privileged to make a new friend in Olga. We have much more we’d like to do here. Three days was really not enough to be ready to move on. We will be back and that, quite literally, is a promise.

#insert Aussie expletive of choice meaning extremely tired/beyond serviceable ie unable to continue.

Day 8 - Gundabooka NP; Exhibition Centre; Para Garden; Campfire Night at Kidman's Camp

Friday 24 September.

So much to try to cover today. Mum and I make an early departure to head down to Gundabooka National Park.  We’re on the road by 6:45 am.  I am a bit surprised to find the Kidman way down to Gundabooka is really very scenic. We’ve got 50 kms to go before we turn off the highway. About 20 kms out the road becomes really beautiful with bright red patches of soil and wildflowers and grasses lining the way.  Virtually no traffic.  I pull over to get a photograph and lower the car window.  I am hit by such a powerful fragrance coming from the bushland. It is a wonderful smell that I really really love and I exclaim with the pleasure of it.  Mum opens her window and takes a sniff.   “hmmm”  she says.  “cross between Maned wolf and coffee.”  Hahaha.  Reluctantly I start up the engine and recommence our journey.

Right bang on schedule we come to the turn to the national park and head in off the sealed road and onto the dirt. Red dirt. Shining red dirt.  It is beautiful. Cassia bushes abound. It’s very beautiful. 

We have 20 kms to go to the art site, but first we travel about 4 kms to the turn we need to make. 

When we get into the national park proper, we make a stop at the information boards. I have learned from experience this is a stop you should always make when entering a national park you are not already familiar with.  Now as some may recall, I have a passionate love of grasses.  It’s hard to beat gently swaying clumps with seed heads in subtle tones catching the early morning or afternoon sunlight.  Or that gentle fuzz of last years stalks softening highway verges.   As I gaze out into the bushland around the boards the early morning light is settling in bright luminance on soft swaying grass heads.  Dainty daisies poke their heads cheerily in between.  I snap away, but find the detail is too fine for wide shots and close ups just seem like a ratty tangle that does nothing to communicate the beauty of this place or the aroma of the bushland on the air.

Having enjoyed this beautiful little spot for a while we hop back in the car and move on.  When we make the turn the speed limit posted is 40 kph, but why would you want to go faster? There are heaps of wildflowers. Purple patches where a carpeting plant raises it’s purple cups skyward, Purple peas, more yellow cassia flowers of course, daisies in yellow white and purple, richer purple vetches and peas.  It is very lovely.  We pass an occasional roo also.  They waste no time and bound off into the woodland.

In an area thick with a tree we assume is mulga the understory is thick with deep violet emu bush.  Worthy of any garden they make a beautiful picture this whole section being dominated by soft greys and the complementary shades of violet and purple, contrasted but not clashing with the rich red soil. 

Some may recall my musings when wandering about in New Zealand as to the apparent intelligence in nature in respect to ensuring you never get inappropriate colour clashes in the environment.  All colours seem right even in combinations you would perhaps hesitate to use at home. It is the same here. Red soil and rich purples are brought into aesthetic respectability by the muted tones of the foliage.

A number of well sign posted intersections along the way but we finally arrive at the parking area for the rock art and make a stop.  I have packed my breaky in the interests of a quick get away and so I muck about preparing and consuming that.  It’s a cool morning.  Mum makes a start on the walk, as she’ll have to take it pretty slow.  

The path leads enticingly to a rocky area and it’s not long before I’m setting off to catch up.

Like people, there are some landscapes which are photogenic and appear to advantage in still images. Other often beautiful spots somehow seem underwhelming through the camera lens. I am sorry to report that the Mulgowan Aboriginal Heritage walk turns out to be one of them.  Pulling up, the sole car in the parking lot, we are struck by the beauty of the place.  In front of us a red path leading past a lovely flowering gum into a pretty, rocky area replete with mystery and promise.  Looking at the photos of the walk, I wonder if I should share them as I would not want someone to see these images, devoid of spirit and life, and think they give an accurate depiction of this lovely place.   

We are welcomed to country by the local people via signage at the start of the path.  First, and appropriately a greeting in language, followed by the English translation, of which the following is only part

Karra mayingkalkaa, Paliira yuku ithu. Welcome to our country.

The unmistakable aboriginal voice in the information provided and safety reminder underlines the ongoing relationship between indigenous people and their country.  It creates a sense of mystery and anticipation that sits well with the landscape around and prepares you for what is to be seen and experienced here.  It places my mind back in time and I imagine the “old people” as well as current indignenous people heading up from the grassland into the stone country to these special sites.

Where the red sand path meets the rocks I pause to admire the flowering gum. It is a  profusion of bright yellow buds that simply shine in the morning sunshine.  Just a few have shed their caps to provide a carpet of little cones beneath the tree, unsheathing fluffy coronets of fresh blossom and many many more to come. 

Climbing up into the rocks I finally catch up with mum.  The path is indicated by little metal way markers and you need to get to a market and stop and look for the next one before moving on.  Like following a rail of crumbs we are lead through the most advantageous vistas along the way. As we rise higher there are expansive views across the void to other hills in the distance.  As we admire the views a black faced cuckoo shrike lands on a bare branch nearby.  We hear birdsong all around but it is unfamiliar and the owners of the voices are keeping their distance. I am happy enjoying what is easily seen without stressing about what is not being shown to me.

Having crossed the first ridge, we start to descent through a gully.  The path is fabulously well done. Either Baiame really intended everyone to walk this way, or someone has gone to enormous trouble to place natural rocks in apparently natural step formations!  Even where these apparently natural boulders are not quite continuous for the path, natural stone paving has been used to continue the sensation of walking through the stone country.  This seems respectful to the spirit of this place and this is so important.

Mum takes her time. Looking down she comments. “if Grand-daughter 1 was here, she’d take a photo of that.  She bends double to take a macro zoom shot.  It’s wonderful travelling with loved ones isn’t it, whether they are friends or family. It is always useful to be able to see something through an alternate vision.  Having wandered in NZ with daughter 1, I am sure mum and I have been permanently influenced in our ability to identify things to examine and photograph closely.

We come to another sign that talks to us about the route that Baiame took through the country in the creation period. It talks also of the continued importance of this place though modes of transport today are different.  The tone to the panel is inclusive.

Lovely vibrant green bushes. Dense with foliage they sparkle with occasional bright red leaves that shine out like jewels.  It reminds me of the similar effect of pohutukawa leaves fallen in a carpet on the sand. So lovely.  Man’s attempts at beauty pale into insignificance when compared to what nature provides us.

Descending into the gully, a gorgeous new variety of grass arrays it’s pretty seed heads in aesthetic perfection against the rocks.

Water trickles cheerfully. Gums and boulders and beautifully placed vegetation provide a lovely contrast to the surrounding plains.

The path requires us to take steps across the boulders strewn across the trickling water.  I hang about to provide mum with a steadying hand.  We are overtaken by another, elderly, couple who head up the slop to the rock art site which is visible enshrouded with metal barriers to prevent access.

We likewise ascend the rock steps and take our place on the metal mesh platform.  The rock overhang in which the artwork sits is quite low.  The other couple are sitting down looking up at the art work most of which is bold in white depicting fairly simple shapes of “shake leg” dance, animals and implements.  Looking closely layers of older artwork are visible.  A few hand prints. 

All around the rock ledge a silicone drip line is placed.  I find intrusions such as this disturbing.  I am still pretty angry about what I learned in respect of the national parks attitude to maintenance of the rock engravings in Ku-ring-gai Chase NP. And the well meaning vandalism of white overlords who think they know best how to preserve these ancient treasures.  The damage that was done at the echidna engraving site in Ku-ring-gai as a result of these well meaning but misguided efforts is inexcusable. I wonder if the traditional owners of this place in Gundabooka really have the access they want or require.  I wonder, have they managed to maintain the knowledge required to maintain these sites in the traditional manner.  All indigenous people across NSW have suffered pretty intensive impact from white settlement:  stolen generations, removal from and denial of access to country and practice of ceremony. This art site is locked up like Fort Knox. I can’t see anyone of any description easily getting in behind these barriers.  I wonder if this site is one of lesser importance to the traditional owners that may have been sacrificed to satisfy non-indigenous people with other sites still active and maintained elsewhere and kept private within the indigenous community.  I hope so. I really hope so.

The other tourists depart and we are left here in solitude for a while. Then we start to make our way back along the path.  As we descend towards a gully a splendid fairy wren flits past. A male in glorious shining metallic blue. He most certainly is a splendid fairy wren, they got that right.

We clamber across the stream once again and as we make our way up around the boulders lining the path, mum notices a dainty beauty.  Clusters of tiny.. fruits?  Flowers? On a tiny little plant.  The are soft but sort of spongy, white with tiny velvety purple hairs.  We’ve got no clue what sort of plant this might be.

Regaining the higher flatter area of rock, a family of feral goats has taken up residence and it give me no pleasure to see them. But hey, we’re tourists so we take their portrait.  They seem to be having a happy life, Billy, Nanny and the kids.

We pause for breath and macro photography, I find and diagnose a problem with my camera after finding mum getting radically different with her, identical, camera. Encouraged I stop here and there on the way to the car to have another go at some images that weren’t working for me before. Ah, that's better.

 I drive mum over to the nearby facilities for a comfort stop and we head off back down the track to where we came from.  Along the way a bird flies across in front of the car, resplendent in black and white.  Many a bird has flown in front of the car, but for this one I stop and back up. It’s landed in the bushes there somewhere.  And there he is, a red capped robin. Sitting large as life on a branch. Perched with wings folded the black and white is less obvious the red is more so.  We’ve seen red caps before, but they are always special. 

We take our time on the road out, stopping here and there to capture the floral beauties along the way. Swathes of yellow among green, puddles of violet provide mock reflections of the sky, daubes of violet trumpets on silver grey.

When we reach the intersection we must finally stop procrastinating about the route we will take home.  We can do the loop suggested on the mud map, or head back up the highway quickly and have more time for other things, among which must be the exhibition centre, as our ticket for that is valid today but not later.  Mum seems to want to head further into the park so we do that for a while.  It’s similar to what we’ve seen.  Along the way a father emu comes out onto the road with his young chicks.  They loiter just long enough for a portrait then retreat to the safety of the bush.

Not finding much material benefit to this new route so far, after about 20 mins or so we decide to turn back and head in to Bourke the quick way.

We arrive home at about 11:45 am. Pick up daughter, who has been studying this morning and head over to the Exhibition Centre for lunch and a quick look.  We have something else we want to do at 2pm, so we need to make it pretty business like.  At Grubby Micks café we each order quiche, which is served with salad and chips.  I get a milkshake, mum and daughter sample the water.

Time is pressin g this morning writing this up.  Suffice to say, Grubby Micks café was great. The quiche was tasty and I suspect replete with real cream if texture is anything to go by.  The chips and salad were excellent as well.  Having gobbled our meals we head into the show and the following displays. The video presentation starts promisingly with the natural beginning of Baiame and the indigenous creation story for the area. Then, aside from acknowledging that an activist campaign in 1938 failed to gain voting rights for indigenous people, the traditional owners of the country seem to slip back into the shadows from whence they apparently came.

 

The Back O Bourke centre is great. It is full of interesting Australiana.  I am seriously into Australiana and enjoy that aspect of the centre enormously. It is very well done. I am gratified to find at least some references to indigenous things sprinkled in amongst the explorer material and the obsession with a great inland sea and anticipate and fervently hope, that there is more coverage of indigenous history to come in the next building.. as so far indigenous content has seemed, well, I have to say it has seemed tokenistic.  

Unfortunately, as we move along, now and later in the day when we return to finish what we missed,  we find that there is a serious omission from the displays.  Indigenous history since European settlement of the country is not included. Apart from one story about an indigenous man who was forced to effectively renounce his culture, heritage and language, in order to have his job as a "human bloodhound" ie police tracker, we fail to find a single reference to indigenous people, what they’ve been through, what is the mix of experiences and context, leaders etc that have informed their modern culture?  This is a very serious omission and it takes the enjoyment out of reading the other material. 

As we wander through this third building another visitor and daughter have sparked up a conversation.  This lady is here with her husband and kids. This lady has also just come through Bree and taken the tour of the fish traps.  She is also disturbed by the lack of content on indigenous Australians.   The Back O Bourke centre has enormous potential.  For visitors coming from anywhere whether elsewhere in Australia or from overseas, it can provide a great insight into the country about the origins of our commitment to the fair go. Henry Lawson, and all sorts of things and people from times past. Unfortunately at the moment it also gives some insight into why we have such intractable problems in respect to equity between indigenous and non-indigenous Australians.  Indigenous people are comparatively invisible. We are making some progress, but boy, the Back O Bourke centre provides a symbolic underline in respect to just how far we still have to go.  As if the statistics aren’t enough.

However, on a happier note we’re off to another Bourke attraction, the flyer for which we have come across at the information centres.  Para native garden.  Olga, is a muruwari woman. She and her husband have established a wonderful garden in the backyard of their home in Sturt St.  The garden is a tribute to Olga's parents and serves multiple purposes.  It provides a tangible connection to Olga’s family’s experiences and struggles, an acknowledgement of what they have achieved under the most difficult of circumstances. It is a mourning as well as a celebration - or so it seems to me as we contemplate the events of this family's lives.  The garden is a triumphant achievement that is overflowing with creativity and optimism.  You can really feel the spirit and presence of Olga's mum and dad as we contemplate the garden. It is quite simply inspiring on a whole lot of levels.
  

Using local indigenous plants and trees, the garden includes things salvaged from the site of Olga’s family’s bush camp of many years ago, where their only water was from the bore drain, and their shelter an open arrangement of corrugated iron and tenting.  Around the garden these things, “as old as the hills”are assembled  to show what the family had and used, and act as tangible testimony to the story being told.  As we wander around listening to Olga's vision for the garden I think to myself that this garden should be on TV. Now while the garden is still very young, and again in a few years as it matures. There was a series made a while back about great gardens of the world. I think that this garden Olga is making is exactly the sort of garden that the makers of that program were looking for. A new Australian garden aesthetic, a truly unique and spiritual approach to gardening using indigenous plants.  Or maybe Better Homes and Gardens would be interested. I say as much to Olga and she doesn't hesitate to recruit me to help her make that happen! Lord knows how one does that, but as Gale Collins says, when you've got no idea what you're doing - then wing it! Suggestions gratefully accepted.

We find we get along with Olga really well.  We discuss indigenous issues and when I comment that as a white city dweller I find it very difficult to get information about what's going on, Olga and Alan provide some recent copies of indigenous newspapers and magazines, both of which have websites.  We have the National Indigenous Times which has a very interesting and informative website.  I like the subtitle: Creating a Bridge Between Australia's Black and White Communities. Then there is the Koori Mail.  Great to have more than one source and one editorial perspective to have a look at.


I do believe I get more radical on indigenous issues with every day that passes.  For this, I believe I actually have travel planning to thank.  In the course of planning our road trip through the American west I have done some trip pre-reading. Amongst these has been several titles relevant to Native Americans. Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee changed me materially.  I had thought I was open minded, interested and sympathetic to indigenous matters at home.  What did I know. My heart was not aligned to my intellect, but Bury My Heat at Wounded Knee, and more recently The Tall Man by Chloe Hooper, have resulted in something of an epiphany for me and I highly recommend both these books. 

Anyway, Olga has a positive story to impart through her marvelous garden.  She cheerfully tells us that Brewarrina High School last year had ooooh was it about half a dozen or so indigenous students heading off to university.  They are studying medicine, law, engineering. Among them is her nephew and we find that he attends the same medical school campus as daughter! These young people have not had to leave their communities. They have not had to try to learn to read and write over the campfire as Olga did. They are not denied an education as Olga's parents where.  Olga has more to tell and exhibit in respect to indigenous success stories. Her daughter is a high achieving businesswoman and university graduate, like Olga herself.  


I see a congruence with Gale’s stories at the Black Queen. These are two strong women whose struggles and childhood disadvantage have motivated high achievement. Inspiring, empowering stories both have to tell. I was feeling pretty ragged and worn down when I headed off on this trip. I was in need of new inspiration and motivation. I was in need of empowerment.  In Gale and Olga's stories and open hearted hospitality, I have certainly found it. 

We have opted for the full package today at Para and so we are treated to some Quandong tarts.  Yuuum.  Apparently there is a quandong orchard around Broken Hill.. An email address is on the label of the Quandong jam and sauce Olga sells alongside various other indigenous related products.  We resolve to get in touch with them and see if we can order some quandongs.  There is a real sense of strong community in Olga’s enterprise. I particularly like a sign which Olga has had made up, based on a message stick made by a family member for the opening of her garden. The message stick and its interpretation are awesome and inclusive. I am truly humbled by this experience of sharing and Olga's open hearted and practical approach. Her years of professional experience that underpin her consultancy - Culgoa Dreaming - are well in evidence.

Well, we have said our farewells to Olga, with promises to keep in touch. We really want to check out the rest of the Exhibition centre as described above and have a chance to leave some comments in the visitors book.  Now we have a very short break to chill (1/2 hour) before we head off to the camp fire and bush poetry at Kidman’s Camp.

We rock up with our chairs and our picnic set and settle in for a fabulous night.  A local farmer, whose family have been on the land here for 5 generations does the honours.  He has assembled a wonderful collection of humourous verse and recites them well to applause and laughter from the sizeable throng assembled.  All proceeds go to local charitable causes, the hospital for example, or some for the RFDS (Royal Flying Doctor Service).  It’s truly a most enjoyable night.  Dinner is tasty and filling. A smallish piece of steak, a sausage, veges, a mountain of mash and bread.  Dessert is pikelets cooked on the barbie with either jam or lemon butter and cream, with billy tea, the billies have been heating over the fire during the evening. 


The fire pit is situated with a wind guard which is fashioned from a large curve of corrugated iron. It looks like a small water tank round, split and pegged open by two sturdy poles. Across it a bar is suspended from what I think was a couple of things like star pickets. It's beautiful. A flash of inspiration as I imagine just such a fire pit in my backyard.. tie in nicely with my original 1950s corrugated iron and hardwood chook shed that I am determined to keep and make a feature of.. hmmm.  The outback and its people truly do remain an enduring source of inspiration. 

The campfire night is another Bourke must do for sure and we leave with our clothes reeking of smoke, as is only proper! 

Day 7 - Bourke: Mt Oxley, PV Jandra, Back O Bourke Gallery, North Bourke Historic Bridge

Thursday 23 September

Early journaling and it’s 9 am before we’re really making an effort to get moving. Mucking about then we go to information centre. It’s $10 each for access to Mt Oxley plus $25 deposit on the key. Then a couple more errands (servo and chemist) before we can get down to the business side of the trip… having some fun.
It’s not long before we spot another shingleback on the road.  Mum has been reading the tourist brochures and announces there’s somewhere in the area is holding “bogeye” races on the long weekend. There’s a picture of a shingleback with the announcement, so we interpret “bogeye” as the name applied locally to this lizard. 

The wildflowers more visible today in brighter light. There is a fairly consistent carpet of small flowers in a range of colours, more visible the slower you go of course.  Barrelling along at 110 doesn’t really lend itself to appreciation of the micro beauties. Nothing could dull the dazzle of the expanse of golden yellow daisies though.

Exactly 28 kms as the mud map said, the turn to Tarcoona appears. We follow the directions provided on the mud map booklet easily.  The dirt road is pretty good.  Fairly rocky. The cry goes up. Emus run across the road in group of 3, their heavy rumps bobbing rhythmically… and as we all know old man emu can run the pants of a kangaroo.
We pull over and let a car with trailer pass.  As we pass through a number of gates and cattle grids, flowering shrubs and trees and in the earlier sections some delicate flowers across the plain. We finally come to the final section tucked up against the mountain.  One gets the impression that the stock have been kept out of this area.  There are wildflowers everywhwere. The further in the density of wildflowers increases, every tree, every bush seems to be putting on a floral display.
The dirt turns from grey to red and fairly rocky. I spot two pink cockatoos on the road up ahead. You hoo! Major Mitchell Cockatoos! It is always special to see these elegant cockatoos as they are not common. They fly up into tree with pink striped crests raised. Simply beautiful!
We head on and the road becomes sealed, though fairly old. It’s also narrow and there are no barriers protecting you from a precipitous drop.  This seems even more hair raising than driving up the mountain in Mt Kaputar National Park to me, but daughter and Gma assure me it is not.  I’m still not convinced.  It seems like an age slowly and carefully climbing to the summit. We round a final corner and find a 4WD heading down the mountain toward me. There’s nowhere I can go. Nowhere at all. Fortunately the other car is still close up by a spot where there is a potential turn and the driver reverses OK.  She winds down her window and comments, “that was good timing! I’m glad I didn’t have to reverse any further than that!”  Good grief yes. Meeting someone half way just doesn’t bear thinking about.  As it happens a third vehicle is waiting an opportunity to head down the mountain also.  This is the property owner and he asks us if we have a key as he is heading out and locking the gate after himself.  The gate was open on our way in.  We give our assurance and we are left more or less to ourselves here at the top of the mountain.  Aside from a large telecommunications tower the mountain top is lovely.  Nicely arranged rocks. Flowering trees and shrubs and abundant pretty star shaped wildflowers scattered amongst beautiful clumps of grasses, just running up to attractive seed heads.  The whole scene, which is set against a backdrop of 360 degree views to the horizon, is simply enchanting.  The curvature of the earth is clearly visible.

We wander about carefully so we can admire the view from various directions.  The rocky ground takes care to walk through.  We take our time, and finally decide its time to move along.  Daughter and Gma are keen to explore the second road, just a brief pause to photograph some lovely flowers.

Its a good track through an open area then through some attractive mulga with grassy understorey and finally arrive at a picnic area at which a pretty respectable picnic area and facilities has been established.  It’s pretty impressive.  Clean flushing toilet, gas Barbie, sink, shelter with plentiful tables and seats.  A fire pit area and fire drums. All this with views to the horizon.  It would be a wonderful spot to watch the sunset, having extensive views across to the west from this area.    We decide that the entry fee for the station holder is fair enough. We’re pretty impressed with the set up here. This is Mt Oxley, part of the Outback Beds properties.

All good things must come to an end and conscious that we want to take a 3pm PV Jandra cruise today we head back down the mountain.  We are taking our time and I request a photo of a new view when daughter notes in alarm that someone is coming.  Uh oh.  Where? Their dust cloud is rising there on the road below.  Thinking we have ages to go to get down and we REALLY don’t want to meet on the scary bit, we drive purposefully down to the flat. Phew.  It’s a minute or so before the oncoming vehicle reaches us.  A large 4WD with rather wide caravan behind it.  We don’t hear any crashes as we slowly move on along the road among the wildflowers, so we presume that these people managed to get their caravan to the top OK.  Can’t say that’s something that tempts me, but there you go.

We take our time stopping every so often to have a better look at some flower or another.  It’s all very pretty, and best enjoyed up close. 

At the end of this section rather than head down the circle as described on the mud map, we head back to Bourke the way we came.  Along the way a flock of emus is enjoying a stroll across the plain of yellow daisies. Got to get a shot of that!

First things first, back to the info centre.  We already have discovered that the Mateship Tours are fully booked today and then won’t run again for a week due to other commitments.  These tours take you round and show you some farms and tell you about the district. We are disappointed that we won’t be able to do that.   However, PV Jandra is operating so we claim our key deposit and head off to the Back O Bourke exhibition centre (which owns the PV Jandra) to buy our tickets there.

If you’re going to the exhibition centre there is a package deal that gives you unlimited entry to the centre over two days as well as the PV Jandra cruise.  The Exhibition centre is more extensive than we gathered from the website.  There’s a cluster of buildings with nice gardens and some outdoor exhibits and a café. Daughter wants to try the bakery in town so we decide to leave the café at the Exhibition Centre for another day.

Back at the bakery I go for a lamb pie.. I think it was Back o bourke Lamb or something like that.  Mum went for steak bacon and cheese and daughter for a chicken pastie.  Daughter and I decide to share a raspberry muffin. Mum bought some cheesecakey slice thing with macadamia nuts in it.  We decide we’ll eat by the river in position for the Jandra.  As if made to order there is a large picnic table just near the boarding spot.  It’s huge. Giants made this table it seems. We daintily spread our tablecloth.  The table is a bit dirty what with being under the flood waters not so long ago.  We do a quick risk assessment re eating under a river red gum. Mum's a bit dubious about the idea,  they can make you sick if you ingest some thing or other than they drop..I figure many people ate under river red gums before they found someone who got sick and tracked down the cause. Anyway, it’s not like eating a pie each is going to take an age so we go ahead.  

We each enjoyed our pies. Mum couldn’t detect much in the way of cheese or bacon, but as a plain steak pie, hers was pretty good. My lamb pie was very minty. Unusual and quite tasty.  Daughter reports her chicken pastie also very nice.  Both the sweet options, well, to be frank. We didn’t like them.  I recall on TripAdvisor some while ago someone (was it Fawltytowerswatch?) saying that blueberry muffins should be banned.  I agree, and this raspberry one is horrible in the same way.  Sort of packet cakey.  Yuk. I think mum tossed the cheesecakey slice thing.

Anyway, to the cruise.  The PV Jandra heads up stream for a while, turns around and heads downstream then turns around again and heads back to the jetty.  All the while, the captain keeps up a fascinating commentary.  Just about anything we could be wondering, he pipes up and lets us know about the matter. The river is lined with river red gums, then behind them there are a whole stack of Coolibah Trees.  The coolibah trees are the ones with grey foliage, and are old and twisted and gnarled in their trunks and branches.

As we round a bend in the river some people are scooting about in their tinny.  We get a run down on the meaning of nautical whistles, use of which is mandatory and some colour is added via a discussion of the idiotic behaviour of usually unlicenced boat owners as this bloke in the tinny breaks all the rules and gets between the Jandra and the closest river bank. Over to the left our attention is drawn to a popular local swimming spot with a sandy beach that is known as North Bondi.. typical Australian humour. LOL

See those roots on the coolabahs, that’s not erosion… those coolabahs have been like that for a long long time.  Old timers years ago told that they were like that when they were little kids in the district and they would put their clothes on the tree and swim, and play among those roots, so it’s likely they’ve been like that for at least a hundred years.  River red gums and Coolibahs live for up to 1000 years, so it’s impossible to say how old any of those trees are”. 

We see echidna holes in the bank, not foxes as the locals had assumed, they only recently found out they are echidna holes when they observed an echidna digging another one!  Whistling kit nests in view we hear about the breeding habits of the kites.  The river trade too, the specs of this vessel, the survey requirements for it. How they achieve getting an out of water survey, the symbolism of the murray darling flag… heaps and heaps of interesting stuff.
It's a lovely view of the river on the way back to the jetty.

It’s only $16 for this trip pp. Fantastic value.  Definitely a must do.  We heard from another tourist that the same guy does the Crossley Engine and he is great at that too. We missed the Crossley Engine but I reckon if this same guy is your guide, don't miss that either.

Before we leave Kidman’s Camp we make a quick stop to add our names to the board out the front of reception for the campfire and bush poetry night tomorrow night.

We’re getting pretty tired by now.  It’s about 4pm or a bit after by the time we get in the car.  We don’t really have time to head to the exhibition centre now and are a bit too tired to do it justice anyway.  We are passing the Back o Bourke Gallery of Jenny Greentree, so decide to tick that one off the list.  We park and wander in.  pretty much every picture is a wonderful representation of the outback.  Daughter and I are really taken with one called A Morning Stroll. I check that they can ship to Sydney. I have a rule that I cannot buy any more pictures without knowing exactly where I plan to hang it. I’m thinking dining room for this one, but I’ll need to assess the size for the wall I have in mind.

We head on and begin to cross the new concrete bridge at north Bourke. It runs parallel to the old bridge.  We turn around, I really have to get a photo of the curve of the bridge.  I'm not going to share why, just that there is a really funny story about that and they will tell you on the Jandra.

Daughter and I admire the lovely North Bourke Hotel which now offers accommodation and dining according to the sign. It looks really lovely, so we decide to wander around and see if we can have dinner there.  Turns out they don’t do evening meals any more, only brekkie for guests and functions. Looks like a nice place to stay, but as we walk in a large truck rumbles past, so we wondered whether truck noise might be a problem staying there. Not a busy road, so perhaps it's not a drama.  We have a nice chat with the owner/manager before we head off.  There’s just no end to the lovely friendly people we meet outback. 

We’re pretty wrecked now. Hot and tired, so it’s a quick stop for daughter to post her postcard and back to the Riverside to chill, shower and generally freshen up.  An informal dinner and journaling, and still hopes of an early night.

We’re loving it Outback. 

Day 6 - the Ridge to Bourke via Bree

Wednesday 22^nd September – Lightning Ridge to Bourke via Brewarrina)

We are packed up and ready to go by 8:30 which is a pretty good time to be getting away.  Well, we’re ready … almost. We need to return our keys and just buy one or two little things in Margie’s Little Shop.Hahaha

Margie, unfortunately has a very similar set of interests to us. She has an outstanding collection of books for sale. There’s the Idriess shelves of course, and some of my inheritance is spent there. Mum and daughter decide to also get my chrissy presents from that part of the store. Plenty to read before I get up into the Kimberley.  Then there’s a fascinating shelf of stuff on aboriginal culture and issues.  I find a very fascinating, though probably a bit depressing and anger inducing title called Adam and the Atom.  This about the events surrounding the nuclear testing at Maralinga.  Authored in 1957 it’s clear that someone was trying to tell the public what was happening to the indigenous people. The excuses just got fewer.

Oh there’s an almost never ending list of books I acquire, so we won’t list them all, but boy, what a fascinating collection.

It’s 10 oclock by the time we drag ourselves away from browsing the store and chatting with Margie, but we finally hit the road. It’s another glorious morning with blue skies and clear air. Lovely temperature. We have a very half hearted go at getting out to bird site 4, but decide to give it a miss and just get on our way to Brewarrina.  With the conditions of some of the dirt roads around the place we’ve opted to stick to the black top this time.  The route via Goodooga would be interesting, but the last thing we need is to get halfway and find ourselves blocked by a bog., Two active days in the Ridge and there is still plenty left to do next time.

Retracing our steps to Walgett we fill up at a local servo and daughter snaps a photo of a great mural that has recently been painted on a nearby wall.

We don’t linger in town and head out on our way. It’s a lovely open and easy drive. The clouds are doing interesting things with wisps and trails across a beautiful blue sky. The scenery is fairly unchanging, but we find it pleasant and interesting. Every now and again the cry goes up: “Emus!”  A few times followed by “And chicks!”  We saw a lot of emus and we never get tired of spotting another one or dozen.
Some crops in rich green, and some lovely grassy woodland with a beautiful khaki understorey.  In some spots there is some low shrubby understorey too.  As we found also heading up to the ridge from Dubbo there is a lot of apparently wild yellow flowers of some sort of crop, maybe canola which has escaped.

there is also an increasing abundance of white daisies, softly asserting themselves in the landscape.

About 93 km from Bree the road sign updating distances to the various centres announces “Welcome to Outback NSW”.  We cross a couple of un-named water courses which seem to have ample water in them at the moment.  The countryside is mainly grazing country with beautiful, apparently native, grasses providing an understorey to the low native trees. The country appears to still be largely de-stocked as it has been during the drought.

It's been a pleasant drive and eventually we are arriving in Brewarrina. We find that locals pronounce the name of their town Bree-wo –rin-a. rather than the Br-wor-in-a that most people apply.  Makes sense since it’s shortened to Bree doesn’t it. We know the local info centre will be closed for lunch and we’re all pretty hungry.  Before we park Daughter requests a bit of a drive around the nearby streets and past the hospital.  This done we head back to the main drag.  We note a number of possible choices but the Muddy Waters Café is an easy winner. 

There are a couple of indigenous children riding bikes in the main street as we pull up.  We smile and head on in to Muddy Waters and order at the counter and sit down one of the larger tables.  The décor is that rustic country Australia look, generous with old recycled corrugated iron and old bric a brac from around the place.  An old dinky, hanging from the ceiling is an old very rusty pedal car..old metal advertising signs and so on. Floors are bare unpolished boards, the ceiling is lovely, apparently original, pressed tin.  Quite a pleasant ambience.  The ceiling fans are going and theres a really pleasant cool breeze resulting. It’s quite warm in Bree today but by no means hot.  Daughter and Gma have opted for a Culgoa Chicken Burger. Though tempted by the warm beef thai salad, and also for the Chicken Parmy (I love it that they just call it chicken parmy and don’t worry about the “proper” name) I end up deciding to go for the Spicy Steak Sanga.  The young man preparing the food tells the girl on counter they’re out of steak.  No problem pipes up a third, I’ll duck out and get some steak, won’t be long.  Now that’s service… and indeed she wasn’t long at all, I would never have known there was any kind of delay.  Muddy waters is being operated today at least, by a group of young enthusiastic people.  They certainly give the air of having a stake in the place, so it’s either their own initiative or boy, the employers are lucky!

To go with our meals I have gone for a caramel milkshake, daughter has opted for a rockmelon smoothie.  These arrive first and both are delicious served in soda glasses.   In quite a brief time our meals arrive.  The burgers are humungous. I mean seriously large.  The chicken is cooked beautifully and the whole thing is very nice.  Very good value for $12.50.

I am relieved to see my steak sanga is a little smaller, but still a very satisfying meal and still very large.  The sanga rests between two very thick and soft slices of toast and is accompanied by some very nice bacon, salad and tomato relish.

As we eat we watch a veritable flood of people coming in to have their lunch.  Lots of shirts and ties and professional looking people.  There is also a sitting area out the back which looks pleasant and is full of people.  This place is really humming.  In the cabinet there are slices of delicious looking quiche and several sweet options.  Lamingtons, cheesecake and others. Certainly as long as the Muddy Waters café is alive and well, you need have no hesitation in eating a meal in Bree.  You wouldn’t find a better café anywhere and we think you’d go a long way to find one that is such good value. 

Our lunch concluded it is still a little while before the info centre opens so we move the car over to their parking lot and admire the fish sculpture there.  Mum jumps on the nebulizer ready for the tour and I catch up on a very few moments of journaling.  At 2pm the staff arrive back and a few tourists make their way in. We’re all after the tour of the fish traps so that’s very convenient.  First up after paying your $7 per person, they sit you down to watch a short video about the traps.  This is a local elder telling a group of kids the origins of the river and the traps which are called Baiame’s Ngunnhu. Turns out this lady is a relative of a friend of mum's.

This completed our guide, Veronica, introduces herself and we walk slowly out the back gate and across to the river.  The river is running very high at the moment and the fish traps cannot be seen.  Apparently this is the fourth rise in the river recently and the fishing is very good at the moment. We watch as a couple of young boys use net tree guards to catch fish in the river.  They plunge the square tree guard down into the water no success while we’re watching, but it does look like fun.

Veronica points out the fish ladders and tells of plans to put bigger ones into the weir, and efforts to controls several little islands that have sprung up since construction of the weir.  We see moon rock and king and queen rock and hear reports of the usefulness of king rock. Then we move into the Museum in the Mounds.  This is still in the process of setting up and a reopening is planned.  The museum is in one mound and the other mound will hold a gift shop. Over the mounds earth is piled and native plants have been planted. Some red flowering emu bush is visible. The concept is interesting and unique. 

We head inside and admire some beautiful old implements and displays, a small model of a gunyah with a beautiful intricate arrangement of branches forming the structure for the shelter.  In the old days of course they used larger trees and families as large as 17 persons could live in one gunyah.  There is a canoe tree and canoe. A one person canoe, they have some pretty impressive things for us to see.  There is also a model of the fish traps with running water so we can see how they are arrayed down the river.  There are plans for an outdoor amphitheatre, and there is an indoor amphitheatre for performances and story telling.  Plenty of potential here that is clear.

Our tour concluded we take our leave and I head up to get the car and save mum the walk back to the info centre. I want to head back there as they had some pretty cool stuff I want to look at further and at a couple of things I’d like to buy.

Yes, of course, we pick up a book or three. One is a short little book by a now deceased Bree local telling of his experiences in WW2.  He reinforced the 2/1 infantry brigade and was left behind on crete to become a prisoner of the Germans for four years.

Another book – Angels of Augustus - tells the story of a couple of Methodist sisters who took themselves outback in the 1940s pioneering services in a region without roads.  There’s also a children’s picture book story called Bogged and Bothered at the Narran by the same author based on real events.  That’s got to be a must for the granny shelf.

There is a beautiful photographic triptych of a leopardwood tree, and others of other local trees and scenes.  $150 but I resist.  Very tempting though. I opt for a lovely mounted photograph of local indigenous kids dancing, a reminder for my city wall, so far removed, that we have some very big problems to solve to help these beautiful kids. To help them preserve their culture but also improve their choices in life. Its no small challenge.

Daughter finds a CD of local music for $2. Called “Our Dreams” by The tribes of Bree.  Surely worth a listen.

Mum can’t resist a book of bush poetry titled Up the Creek, by The Barwon Bard Max Overton.  She’s had a flick through as says it’s got some funny poems in it.

We take our selection to the counter to the lovely and friendly young lady.  Before she gets going with ringing things up she checks we are aware they take cash only.  She points out to us that the Angels of Augustus is signed by both the author and one of the angels themselves before she passed away.  She goes on to tell that the two ladies the books are about where really really lovely ladies and well loved by the community.  Others followed she said but none were as good as these two originals.

We have enjoyed our time in Bree very much. Now about 3pm it’s time to move on. We had planned to stay in the area, but were a bit nervous about the rain that's been about, so have deferred a farm stay for drier times.

The scenery  heading on to Bourke continues in a similar vein as it has since Walgett.  The clouds are building and looking threatening and form a beautiful back drop to the landscape.

The major hazard is lizards.  They sun themselves on the roads and there’s a saddening amount of road kill.  Daughter thinks she hit one. Horrified we drop back about 20kph.  At 90 you’ve got better chance of spotting them and slowing down and going around them.  Not much traffic at all so this is a realistic option here.  The emu sightings continue, much to our delight.

Along the way there are some patches of white wildflowers. Looks like erigeron or something very similar.  About 15 kms out of Bourke wildflowers start en masse. Mainly in white and yellow daisy style flowers. There are also some purple daisy and pea type flowers but these are not in sufficient quantity to really notice driving by.  At one spot on one side of the road it seems to be expanses of the yellow crop flower on the northern side of the highway away to the distance it is the wild daisies.   We are looking forward to exploring out to the national parks.

Speaking of national parks, about halfway between Bree and Bourke daughter calls attention to a large rock formation that rises, Uluru like from the flat plains.  This we conclude must be Mount Oxley.  We’re planning to come back with a key to get into the park there.

It’s only 5pm when we’re arriving at the Bourke Riverside. The bloke there seems very pleased to see us. He has apparently left us voicemail.  Won’t do much good of course. We’re on Vodafone and they have no coverage out here.  Apparently bourke is full and the Riverside is fielding requests for accommodation so the owners were getting a bit nervous knocking back business when we haven’t yet arrived.  Gees, it’s only 5pm! Glad we weren’t late arriving as that could have been ugly. Note to self. Get into the habit of ringing ahead and confirming accommodation in future.

We settle in and briefly explore the beautiful gardens. There will be a wonderful display of roses in the not too distant future and as it is there is all manner of spring flowers. Snap dragons, ranunculus and so forth. The air is full of perfume and we conclude that this must be coming from an orange tree that is in abundant bloom next door and visible through the fence.  There is a gate out to the river reserve, but this is padlocked.

Daughter and I wander across to the next block and find the local Khan’s Super IGA to pick up some perishable supplies.  Some local kids are playing and riding their bikes in the streets. One little guy is riding a bike a bit bigger than himself.  He looks pretty able. All look like they’re having fun.

Back in our suite, named for Nancy Bird Walton, we settle down to watch the news and a video about an indigenous lady of Bree.. another of our purchases at the info centre.  The sitting room in our suite is well equipped with bar fridge and good value mini bar.  There is a sofa too, but on the whole I think this room could do with more sofa space and less furniture that is not useful to guests.  There’s space in this suite for two couples, but not enough room in the sitting room if everyone wanted to sit down and watch together.  Overall though the rooms are beautiful.  The bedding particularly comfy, warm and luxurious.  We settle down for a light snack for dinner. Who needs more after a very large lunch

Day 5 - The Ridge - Parrot Ponds, Chambers of the Black Hand, Hot Artesian Spa and sunset

Tuesday 21 September

It’s about 6:30 am. We’re at the parrot ponds. What a stunning spot. The sun is low in the east sending beams of warmth into the woodland. Curls of water snake their way through pale khaki grassland. There’s not a breath of wind. The ponds reflect a mirror reflection of the surrounding trees and cloudless blue sky. In patches a submerged tortoise sends up blubbles to ripple across the mirror. The whole entrancing scene is backlit with birdsong. Early morning chorus of the pied butcher bird. The occasional whistle of feather upon feather as a crested pigeon moves to another perch. I take a walk along crusted tracks which wend their way around the ponds. Fine spider webs thread across between grass stems like gossamer stands of light. As I set up my tripod to try to capture the scene, several kangaroos bound across the image in the distance. They stop and feed for a moment, disappearing among the grass heads before moving away again in graceful bounds. Utterly Australia.

Having given a good attempt at capturing images literally, I decide to sit in the car with the doors open and try to capture the scene figuratively. A bird flies into the tree in front of me. Just a noisy miner. A small group of colourful parrots fly low across the grass. Bright green. Red winged parrots. One perches briefly on a bare stick rising from the ground before dropping out of site among the grass to feed. Not much doing there apparently as it’s only a moment before they rise again and head for a clump of trees.

There are calls around, but realistically with the extent of standing water in the district at the moment the birds disperse and reliable birding spots like this one are less so. But oh how glad I am that we ventured out this morning to witness the stillness and beauty of this place. Only a couple of hundred metres from the Castlereagh Hwy at the junction with the turn into lightning ridge. You need to go around the far side of the pond close to the road and travel in along the track a couple of hundred metres.

As instructed in the bird sites guide, we drive up over a low mound following the track into a clump of woodland. We are looking for scar trees. These are trees where the traditional owners of this land cut bark from the tree for use as coolamons (bowls) and other implements. Nearby the track after a brief search we see a very old dead tree. A beautifully regular oval shaped scar is clearly visible. We play tourist and photograph each other at the tree. Round about piping calls draw our attention to brown treecreepers working the area. They fly to the base of a tree and work their way around collecting small insects from crevices in the bark. Occassionally they drop to the ground before heading back to the base of another tree. Calling in soft single pipe notes to eachother all the while.

In a tree nearby movement. Two kingfishers. White breasts, clear white ring around their necks. .Intermediate sized shrubs are smothered with flowers. I don’t know what they are but wonder if they might be quandongs.. can’t be surely as they are abundant and I think quandongs are not that common. Looking at the plant sites guide I think perhaps they are budda.. but with more flowers than shown in the illustrating photo. This I later confirm with Margie.

A chorus of alarm calls goes up as a raven in funerial black flies into one of the trees. . I spot a very mottled looking trunk about 20 metres off the track. I wander into see if maybe it’s a leopardwood tree, but no. The variation is just lichen on a black fissured bark of what I think is a budda tree. Looking around though there are two scar trees right nearby I take a photograph and almost the instant the shutter closes, mum sings out. Theres a couple of scar trees right here by the car. I look around and scar trees are everywhere. Almost every tree of any reasonable size has surrendered its bark for a bowl or shield.

Back in the car just about ready to move on and a couple of white plumed honeyeaters land in the branches right in front of us.

As we pass back by the parrot ponds the light is has change the palette. Tress lining the shore show amber and red leaves glowing in the sunlight like stained glass.. It’s now 8:30. Time has flown.

Heading back into town we make a stop at the attractively painted agitator that signals the turn into Lightning Ridge from the highway. 

Back at the Bluey, the bird feeding station is doing brisk business as usual. A stunning male red winged parrot looks up as I take his portrait.  He is sitting in the shade at the moment, but when the sun hits those feathers he shines like a jewel.

Washing some muddy boots and a spot of brekkie and we’re off to explore the local shops and galleries before heading over to Chambers of the Black Hand.

The John Murray Gallery is just around the corner from the Bluey. Even closer if you go via the laneway at the back of the motel. The gallery has a number of large original paintings on the walls and numerous smaller and more affordable prints and greeting cards. Many of the paintings include some quirky humour, such as one long effort of an emu with six chicks following titled “one long neck and six stubbies”. There are excellent caricatures of Tony Abbot and Julia Gillard. Only two fairly large rooms. We select some small mounted prints and we are on our way. In the gallery we again bump into a group of daughters’ fellow medical students who are, coincidentally, spending several days in Lightning Ridge on a program put together by the rural health union. We’re heading on into the Chambers of the Black Hand with them, daughter being a member of the rural health union.
It’s only a fairly short drive down the three mile road and onto the dirt into the opal field to the Chambers of the Black Hand. The surrounding vistas are typical Lightning Ridge. Mullock heaps, and scrubby trees, and today for the first time we have blue skies. It’s looking more like the paintings.

 The obligatory safety briefing and it is pointed out that for people with mobility limitations there is an option of a lift down into the mine. Mum enthusiastically volunteers for this assistance. As we don our hard hats we are relieved she has a choice. There is a huge flight of stairs to get down to the higher of the two levels. We are assembled into groups, we’re not the only group being accommodated today. The local TAFE is also on a visit here. Don is our guide for the first part of our tour and he leads us down a fairly steep ramp to the opal level, the chambers of the black hand are higher in the rock strata. Don, like many of the people we have met, quite a character. Daughter points out to us that he looks quite a bit like Paul Newman. Don jokes periodically that when you hit on opal you’re married within the week. Perhaps so we thing, but looking a fair bit like Paul Newman can’t hurt either!

Don explains about mining and the lifestyle and how he came to be a miner. Some amazing finds that have occurred to people. He’s highlight of the tour that’s for sure. When we’re finished down on the mining level we are free to self guide ourselves around the chambers and the many wonderful carvings and paintings. Our favourite was of a huge octopus wrapping itself around a shark, with seals and other sea life woven into the sculpture in a very natural and appropriate way.

We finish our time at the Chambers of the Black hand with a look over the jewellery and gems in their underground store. They have some lovely pieces. Most are more to my taste than much of the stuff we’ve seen elsewhere. There is apparently 30% off the prices of everything today. Not sure I believe this isn’t the case every day, but call me a cynic. They have one solid black opal in the case which is exactly to my taste. If only it wasn’t already set in a necklace that’s not so much to my taste.. if only it wasn’t the best part of $9000, but it was a magnificent opal. The man serving says that in 15 years when the opal mining at the Ridge is finished pieces like this will be worth a lot of money.

We’re done here for today. We’ve enjoyed this attraction, it’s a real achievement. Our tix were paid for by the rural health union, we were able to piggy back on that as some of the people who said they were coming pulled out and the spaces were there paid for whether we used them or not. Or so we understand. Although we have enjoyed our time, we’re glad we didn’t pay $25 for the privilege.

It’s not coming on for 11:45 and we’re getting pretty hungry. We stop by a café next door to Under sea opals. Daughter and I decide we’ll order a milkshake and we’ll lunch on supplies at home. My milkshake tasted oddly like it was tainted with onion or garlic. Very odd. I cannot imagine how one manages to contaminate a milkshake with onion or garlic but I had my milkshake to daughter and she samples and agrees. Glad we didn’t opt for lunch there then, though the place looked OK.

A browse in the opal gallery here and another across the road. We admire some nice pieces but resist the temptation to buy anything. I’m feeling a bit over it by now. Time for a nap, so we adjourn to the Bluey for an afternoon kip. We need energy for the bore baths thisafternoon. We plan to take Chuck’s advice and head over to the bore when Deal or no Deal is on. Apparently everyone local watches Deal or no deal.. so that’s a good time to head to the bore baths. After the news, the place gets busy! We shall be testing this theory tonight.

We lob up at the baths at about 5 oclock and there is no shortage of people here but it is by no means overcrowded. We head in to the showers and wait a brief while in the queue for the two shower cubicles. Friends are showering together to save time and water and heading on out to the pool. Showering completed we are now wet and cold so we make our way out and clamber down the stairs into the hot water. The pools maintain a constant temperature of 41.5 C. At the beginning it is hot but pleasantly hot and you can stay immersed for quite some time. I clamber back out and head back to the car to get the camera so we can record the experience for posterity. Still cooling off I wander over to some large signs which explain the baths, the great artesian basin and the bore capping program being undertaken to stop the wastage of both water and water pressure. The signs also advise that the best therapeutic effect is achieved by short periods of immersion interspersed with periods of cooling off.

We hang about dipping in and out. Soaking aching ankles, neck and knee. Chuck said that the warmth from the pool will keep you warm for a couple of hours and we can readily believe it. We’re wandering around wet without any chill effect at all. We are warm to the core and it’s a lovely relaxing sensation.

The sun is getting low in the sky and the clouds are rimmed with gold. Violets and increasing tones of red are beginning to appear. This is the first clear night since we’ve been here. The silhouettes towards the west aren’t the most inspiring here at the hot artesian spa and we decide to make tracks out to somewhere with a better view of the horizon. Lunatic Lookout is settled on as mum failed to get out and have a look at Lunatic Lookout yesterday. It’s about 5 mins or so drive out there and when we get there we find it’s a bit down on the eastern side of the hill and not much good for sunset. I recall that we had some good views behind us when we went up the four mile road yesterday morning and that is nearby so I direct daughter to make the turn to that end. We find ourselves quite a good pozzie right by an old mine hoist and settle down to wait. I walk across to get some photos when the sky is looking rather pretty. Mozzies galore and so I have no incentive to linger when I have a shot I’m happy with.

Time for dinner and for the third night we are back to the Lightning Ridge Bowling Club.. pretty much the only option available and as a result it seems to do a roaring trade. Food is acceptable. Tonight mum and I go for chicken schnitzel with veges and a wedge of lemon. $12.50. Daughter goes for a rump steak $19. Daughter said her steak was lovely. Mum and I enjoyed our meals too, but as they had the chicken already cooked in the bistro area tonight it was a little dry. Nothing tragic though.

Home and dressed for bed catch up on the day’s journalling and it’s off to the land of nod.