bogged to the axles in the dunes

We swagged it that night at the Field River, the kids washed the dust off with a swim in a plunge pool made by the bore water washing into the dry river bed. Then we watched cringing as a storm flashed great bolts of lightning in the distance, but then breathed in some relief as the rain came with it, putting out any fires. We spent a soggy but beautiful night under the coolibahs, then packed up camp to head home. 80 or 100 dunes later we were again heading North up through Carlo Station. All was going so well. We had a young camel in two pieces strapped to the back of the ute, hopefully not dripping onto the portacot, and our spirits were high as we were heading home. Thats when we saw the water. The road had long muddy pools on it. Al gunned it as we were already in it, and careened around the road, the tyres sucking up the mud as we slid. We tried up on the bank, which was good for a bit, until we heard the radio call, 'come back'. We were travelling with two work colleagues, and they were stuck. On trying to get back to them, we bogged up to the axles. Two cars stuck, middle of nowhere, hours from anywhere, more rain on the way, 3 small kids. At least we had meat! Also it wasn't hot that day, probably only about 35 degrees, as opposed to the 45 degrees it has been. We spent nearly four hours getting out. I was starting to twitch, thats for sure. Two winches broke, one was patched together enough to drag us out with the sides of the tray under the wheels. The car was jacked up onto these and dug out first. Finally we were out, and I spent the next kilometre racing back out of it with my heart in my mouth. I just wanted my kids out of it! We got there though and drove back only two more hours back home, stopping for some very welcome beers at our neighbours place on the way back. Just a week or so left and we'll be leaving to head home to lovely cold Tasmania. Sometimes I can't wait!

Go west...

We decided to make the most of a window between fires, and storms, to rediscover our Western boundary. Cravens Peak and Ethabuka adjoin the Northern Territory on both of their Western borders, so we were able to skirt the neighbouring property in the middle and drop back into Ethabuka. We cut out West a few hours through the incredible Painted Gorge with petroglyphs aplenty, then South another few hours travelling in the Territory. On the way we drove through the burnt areas, Cravens Peak has about 80% burnt, and Ethabuka probably has about 70% burnt. Thats around 900 000 acres of the properties we manage that have burnt! Its been declared a disaster zone so hopefully Bush Heritage will be able to recoup some of its costs from fighting them. Where a few mm of rain had fallen was incredible, green shoots spred a lawn across the blackened earth. Seeds from the trees are lying in chaotic piles, some scorched black from the heat, but others looked good, having all cracked open from the heat and are lying waiting for moisture. We ended up at an amazing swamp with coolibahs poking out through the still expanse of water, the sounds of water birds in the distance was amazing. There were storm clouds brewing though so we didn't linger, as we would never have gotten out of there with wet ground. Hundreds of kilometres of dunefields lay to the west of us, and there were more to the East, and South, and a few North also. The riverline that we followed to our campsite was dry, but edged with red gums, coolibahs and desert poplars. at one point we drove through a thicket of a tall, spindly plants with a delicate purple flower. It was so tall it hung right over the roof of the car, and went on for a few hundred metres, before disappearing into the endless spinifex.

Swim camp

Swim camp was great, lots of work in the kitchen and kid juggling, but Asha loved it. She even got to play the fairy godmother in the finale! Working and mixing with the other station women and teachers was a privilege, especially in talking to them about raising kids out here. I asked one lovely woman if she preferred being here or in the Kimberleys where she was stationed previously. 'Oh The Kimberleys she said without hesitation. It's way too suburban here!'  Granted, she lives on a property only half an hour from town, but the town consists of about 100 people, and she backs on to an expanse of millions of uninterrupted dunefields!
We probably seemed like we came in from the sticks. A 2.5 hour drive got us there, we didn't get bogged, and Al shot an enormous pig on the way. The last night in Bedourie was a good night but messy. We all needed a wind down after the camp and especially the fires. Despite my claim of not wanting to shame myself and starting the night drinking only xxxxgold! (Don't tell anyone from Adelaide), it soon deteriorated.  The night continued with copious amounts of vodka, country music, big hats and great yarns. Unfortunately the next morning was very shameful, and we all limped the hours home, only to see great plumes of smoke yet again. Al pulled an all nighter that night, and none of us got much sleep the next 2 nights. Fire has ripped through cravens peak now on the eastern side. coming too close to the house. The sky was aglow with red that night. the kids were asking me what the red was outside their window as they were going to sleep. 'Umm, its fire kids" I had to say. I finally got onto Al on the satellite phone, he was somewhere out there and the fire looked very close. He was stuck the other side of the fires and couldn't get through, the car was overheating and he'd done a shock absorber. I had a tantrum and packed woollen clothes in a bag, just in case... alls good now though, and Al is having a day off at long last. School goes on regardless though, so back to it!

I spoke way too soon...

So our bags were packed, portacot was in, cars were fueled up, and kids had big smiles on their faces ready to go to the swim camp in Bedourie when we saw the smoke. 'No way! we were so close to making it out!' We drove up to the neighbours, on whose property the fire currently is, and who were also driving to the camp with us, worked out that there was no way we could go. Then drove home and piled out of the car again. 'Sorry kids theres more fires'. Al has disappeared off into the smoke again, to be seen again hopefully unsinged who know when. The kids and I and our neighbours will try in the morning to head to town. The clouds are building again though so maybe it will rain and put the fire out. Maybe then the rivers will be up too high to cross to go to town...These fires are a lot closer to both our houses, and in areas of high fuel loads, so this time we are all praying for rain.

Emu hamburgers

A poor emu got its leg stuck in a fence and broke it the other day. Al dispatched it and brought it home in pieces. We minced it up today (you should have seen the drumstick). Pulling off the odd feather brought back memories of a rooster cull in Tasy... They were yummy hamburgers and supposedly very lean, high in protein and iron, so all good. It would be easy to grab another, but they are too lovely, and native for that matter. All you have to do if you do ever want to get near one (to take a photo maybe), when you spot an emu, is run around for a moment then fall on to your back, waving your arms and legs in the air as much as you can. I like to add the odd stick up of a leg or head to keep them interested. Being curious creatures, they'll saunter up as a group, heads outstretched, trying to work out what on earth is going on. They can get really close, until their strong legs look a bit too close for comfort anyway.

Wet storms after cup day

Before cup day come the dry storms, then you get the bad fires. After cup day come the wet storms, the fires burn hot, but go out with the rain. This has proven true to the day for us. Fires were massacring Ethabuka, shooting flames up 100m in the air and turning forests to red dust. Then came Melbourne Cup day, the fires subsided, and everyone went home. The next big storm (all the fires have been started by lightning strikes), hit us fast and hard. We were so exhausted we couldn't even contemplate more fire, but true to form, this storm brought rain with it. The sky was ablaze with lightning, thuder roared and crackled, reclaiming this space as it's own. Living creatures crouched down and trembled, we watched transfixed. Well, Al watched, I have a problem with lightning, I am fascinated by it and can't look away, but am just ready to dodge it if it hits. I can't help it, but if I'm in the open I can't seem to keep my feet still and dart around like Golem. So the rain turned the dust to mud, put out the fires the lightning started and turned our roads to mush. If there is any more rain tonight we won't be able to get to the week long swim camp in town tomorrow, or anything else for a while either...hmm how much food do we have here?

a gentle breeze

Out to the East is a spectacular apricot pink thunder cloud, stretching across the gibber plain and glowing in the last of the suns rays. Above me as I swing gently in the hammock is a big bright white moon, instantly silhouetting two ducks flying by. As I crane my neck behind me, past the vivid red flame tree bursting with flower, the orange orb of a sun has its last glance at the desert as it slips behind the horizon. It's a moment in life that I was discussing with a beautiful friend just the other day. Amidst the fire, carnage, heat and outrageous hours we have all been working out here, comes a moment in life, so special that you wouldn't give it up for the world. Just like parenthood. Despite the mountain of dishes, the awaiting schoolwork, the endless chases after a toddler, there comes just one moment of "we built a flying plane submarine that is going to a magic land where we are going to science the snakes". That is enough to remind me that despite all the crap that makes me cry, I wouldn't give it up, any of it, for anything. I just glanced up to see a black shouldered kite hovering in the slate grey blue sky, quivering its wings frantically to hold itself in place as it held its prey in its gaze. Diving down. it swooped, but missed, then wheeled around, off to bed for the night, to make way for the owls and nightjars which will soon be out.