Fire in the Simpson

It looks like theres a fire approaching from the South West. It's shaped like an enourmous red cross bow, stretching almost the entire width of the Simpson Desert, with the arrow lined up straight for us. The NAFI site on the internet will show you the fire site, which appears to have burnt more than a third of the Simpson Desert already. The fuel load is so high after all the rains, that it's unlikely to stop by itself. Ethabuka will get hit first, it's currently about 70 kms away. We've got a grader going in to make earth breaks around the borders and through the middle. 80 percent of the property was burnt out just before we got there last time, and it sure would be nice to not incinerate the remaining 20% which hasn't been burnt for a lot longer, and is Channel Country vegetation, which is very important in terms of its conservation values. Not that the dunefields aren't. They carry one of the highest diversities of reptile diversity in the world, not to mention all the small cute and cuddly species which still manage to exist out here. The dunefields are currently looking stunning, and it's hard to imagine them returning to the red wastefield with blackened stumps that they were 8 years ago. Cravens Peak would be next to burn, which doesn't bear thinking about. It doesn't make me feel so good either, being so remote with the kids and such a big fire eating it's way towards us. I do keep imagining the enormous wave of rats running in front of the flames! But really, they would probably go to ground, and the wave will really be full of camels. Al should stand out there on the border with his shotgun....

Home Schooling

Yesterday Asha and Clay made a 1m patch outside where she could guage change in the patch over time. It was marked out with string and ice-cream sticks, and Asha spent some time choosing where she should put it, depending on which flowers were in it, where ant trails were, or amongst some quartz rocks. she eventually decided on a sandy patch with white glittery pebbles, because then she could check out the tracks in the sand the next day. She carefully swept it smooth, then Clay had a go, then she did it all over again and stood up the sticks again. Next morning she raced out as soon as she was up to check on it. Very excited, she ran in to tell us that were kangaroo tracks and a track that she thought was a wild pig! It was in the house yard, so we would have been surprised, but Al went outside and told her it was a baby camel track, which wasn't very helpful but did keep her enthusiasm going. Luckily we did see some camel tracks later that morning so could show her what they really looked like. They have seen them in the flesh also, Al took them out  from Ethabuka a week or two ago and they came across a small herd. The kids came back to the house and told me all about how Dada had shot the camels and cut them up. They decided not to eat them that night though.  We bought them both bikes in Mt Isa, and they are so proud of them. Their parents were very stingy and bought them a bit too big, but they've figured them out and perch up on them very proudly, shooting off on our morning walk towards the dunes, Clay with his head bent right down low, going as fast as his legs can possibly go. Zave with his head craned around the backpack, trying desperately to keep his eyes on his big brother and sister who have disapeared into the red horizon.

Back after a trip down South

Back 'home' again after a whirlwind trip back to Tasy. My head is still spinning from it, but it was incredible to get a good dose of Tasy magic to keep our spirits high. Thanks so much to everyone who helped, housed and supported us in order to enable Al's book to be launched amongst the beautiful community that it deserved. What would we do without you all......
I know you don't need more rat stories, but think of it as therapy for me.....I arrived back home to some barely alive seedlings, which I carried out of the bath tub reverently. Outside, I turned on the hose to give it a soak, the water burst up in every direction, the rats had eaten the hose! Throwing it aside, I nudged the watering can, it still had water in it judging from the weight. I heaved it up and poured it onto the seedlings. Big chunks of hair fell from the top as a horrible thick brown liquid squeezed from the end nozzle. I dropped it and ran, but as the smell was enough to make my head spin.  I knew I had to deal with it. Tipping it out behind the back fence, it gave a whole new meaning to liquid fertilizer. 1, 2, 3 then on a lot of nudging, 4 rats fell out, in various stages of decomposition. My stomach is pretty strong, (except in pregnancy!) but I was bent over head in the bushes 3 times after that. Alright, that is it I promise, no more rat stories. They are on their way out now anyway, they have virtually gone from properties to the South, and are finished at Bedourie (our closest town.) Our turn must be next.... The air is smoky here from massive bushfires to the North (might need Mat to build us a bunker...), the animal numbers are dropping a bit as the heat increases. It is still beautiful though, and I am looking forward to seeing a bit more red soil.

Rats

So the other night Al whispered through the window to come outside. I jumped up from bed with a last longing stare at my book, and raced outside. Walking over to him, he pointed out a barn owl up in the tree in the yard. It was enormous, and so regal as it stared down at us. Unflinching it stretched out its wings and glanced around on the ground for its next easy feed. A blur of white it glided away out of sight and we walked together to look up at the stars. They stretched endlessly across the sky, instantly putting us back in our place as tiny humans. I stared in awe, then remembered I was in bare feet. 'I feel like the rats are going to nibble on my toes,' I said to Al. 'Nah, theres none about.' He replied confidently. He swung the torch around. At every beam of light, in every direction, there were multiple dark scurrying shapes across the lawn, some within a metre from us. I bravely jumped up on Als feet, stared around, then bolted for the door, slamming it firmly closed behind me. I thought about locking it, but made myself stop. Al was still out there after all!

We decided to get a trap going, we have caught over 150 in 3 nights trapping. We were going camping this week but then I remembered the rats, and thought about the kids in swags....Bugger that.

The Rodeo

Boulia Rodeo was in town, and we couldn't resist doing the slog back into town for it. It was an awesome drive though. We were stoked to see 60 - 100 brolgas with a few babies thrown in, feeding in the cracked earth grassland, along with some wild pigs (bugger!), and a fierce snake which I still see when I shut my eyes... Despite the rodeo being a lot quieter than when we went a few years ago, it was still awesome. Those men and woman (she appeared to get ribs broken after being stamped on), were incredible in their courage or stupidity, (I'm not sure which.) Big hats were the go and the cowboys did wear all the gear, fringed pants, spurs, waistcoats. The bulls were massive, I don't know how people weren't killed. One big black bull threw off its charge like a fly, then turned to charge the steel fence where I was standing . Not once but three times he rammed the fence. I was hoping they had put it up well, so was Zavier. The kids were watching goggle eyed from up top on the stand, where they could see the Bulls being loaded and the cowboys perched on them as they were released. 

The drive home was good as we pulled in to a couple of stations to say hello. From one we found our mail bag which hadn't quite made it out to us. The other had 3 kids the same ages as ours. At both places we've been to with kids, they are so excited. The kids race out the door waving to us furiously and come right up to the car, bouncing around until our kids get out. Kids are like gold around here, and they sure are a good excuse to meet people in the area. The women seem to have the same issues as back home, never enough time in the day, always want better for their kids, tantrums.... but thrown into that is homeschooling. Not a couple of hours a day out here, but the curriculum is set, it makes for a normal length day. If they don't have the set work back after a fortnight, they get 2 or 3 calls, then are expelled. It's a serious enterprise, if people are lucky they can afford a governess. 'What do you do?' said one woman, 'it makes you cry but you've just got to do it, it's your kids.' Then they have to help run stations, just the food itself is massive. Killing your own meat makes for a huge job of cutting it up, freezing it, hanging it. All food has to be sorted through every few days, fruit and veg must be individually rewrapped in paper  every few days or week. Dry goods are all in bulk and must be stored away from rodents and the heat. We did a $1000 shop before we got here. That was just dry goods, no fruit or veg or meat. Everything gets caked in dust, so to keep a clean house is a slog. Before going anywhere, you need to refuel on the property, check air pressure in the tyres, check radios, get the satellite phone. The vehicles all have emergency gear on them, including water. There aren't second chances out here. People don't drive past. Everyone has to be prepared to get themselves out of trouble. On that note, the sun is still shining and I haven't seen a cloud for a week.

Coolabah Wetland

Theres a Coolabah billabong down the road a bit that forms a welcome patch of water for local animals and humans alike. It's nestled into the side of a dune and is stunning not for its beauty, but for its wildlife. Great flocks of flock pigeons swirled in great figure eights, swooping into the water for a brief mouthful before swooping up again, tantalisingly out of reach to the black kites, brown falcons, whistling kites and black shouldered kites that all followed the birds around their dance. Many more species of water bird swam happily on the water, while the sandy edges abounded in emu, camel and roo tracks. The kids had a ball having a treasure hunt to find their morning tea in the gidgee trees, and Al and I fossicked around under the coolibahs for the numerous owl roosts. It was a graveyard under there, with rat carsasses aplenty, lorikeet wings and pellets abounding. I got leave to walk back, and blissed out at all the flowers along the way. Dreaming, I heard a tsss next to me. Being cool calm and collected, I jumped a metre in the air and spun around, expecting to see a taipan. Instead, it was an awesome Bearded Dragon, hissing with mouth wide and body flattened and raised toward me to ensure I knew how scary it was!

We made it...

G'day. I thought this might be the simplest way to share some of our journey with our much loved friends and family down South (and East), oh, and way up North somewhere in Guyana. After having only three weeks notice, we packed up our lives and kids and took off back to the Simpson Desert. Our journey began by flying out of beautiful Tasy last Wednesday. Three long flights later we landed in the land of rum and sugar cane, Bundaberg. The kids did as well as could be expected, I only nearly cried once. Luckily at this time I checked my voice mail only to get a much needed pep talk from lovely Bec which got me through the last few hours. To cut a long story short, four and a half days of travel later, soaking in dinosaur footprints, a very anglocised Stockmans Hall of Fame, endless train carriages of coal and not enough vodka later, we found ourselves again on the desert roads. As the size of peoples hats increased, so did the horizon. Layers felt like they were dropping away as we left the last town, Boulia. I felt a huge sense of homecoming but also one of dread. My head said stay and my heart said pack up your family and get the hell out of here as fast as you can...  We persevered. Brolgas and bustards were plentiful, as were big roos, emus and the ubiquitous black kites, soaring in great numbers overhead as if they were Australias answer to the vulture. Close to three hours out from town we finally entered Cravens Peak. The floods had come earlier in the year, and the cattle had been off for 4 or 5 years. The land was gleaming. Spinifex seed heads rose in proud stacks to the endless blue skies. Wildlife was abundant and the last of the flowers splashed purple yellow and white against not red sand but green vegetation!. Pulling into the homestead, I could hardly look, but besides the rat plague it was in good order. (The Boulia shop trapped 80 in 2 nights in a 44 gallon drum. They kept the lights on low so you wouldn't see the chewed food packaging! The house was comfy enough, everything we really needed, the kids so happy to be somewhere they could make their home for a bit. Al turned the generator on (the RAPS solar system is out of order), and everything worked. A mad unpack turned into a grateful vodka and tears and tantrums turned to laughter (and that was just me!) A few thoughts did go through my head...'a simple life, this is what I was striving for in Tasy, no waste, nothing unnecessary, our family living simply, cleanly, happily. I could do this for longer, get a goat, some chooks...' but then came 'what the hell am I doing here again? How did this happen?'
The following day I threw some vegie seeds around (can't help myself...), and we took off for a few hours to check out a minute fraction of the property. Managing 1 million acres will take a bit of time. The kids screams of excitement rang out across the dunes and swailes as we roared over the dune crests. Zavier was only happy when he was driving! The spinifex was as tall as the car roof in places. This was a degraded red dust cattle paddock the last time we were here. The lanscape was stunning. Words would struggle to capture the freedom and joy we felt there. Coolibahs gleamed white in graceful arches, black shouldered kites danced overhead, and 'look kids at this Crotalaria flower, I wish I could send some of the bulging seedheads back to Paulette...draw a picture in the sand, feel it sift away the long journey between your toes....'
The reality check came the next day, I spent the arvo scrubbing rat piss and crap off the floors of the house, after the rains come the rodents, and the snakes..... Zavier had a bad allergic reaction to yoghurt, thank god I remembered the antihistimine. We are a long way from help...wheres doctor Dave?
Love ya
us