Looks like rain...Yeah, could use some rain...

Boab tree at sunset in Derby

"They love having visitors" said Bunty. "They're so isolated, buy a bottle and give them a call!" So Sara called Jane Sale, a fellow ex-Ruytonian albeit several years younger she'd never met, and we were invited to spend a couple of nights on a cattle station in the Tanami Desert. What we found out when we got to this isolated house on a hill, was that they enjoy visitors so much, we had timed it for a dinner party of 14!

Yougawalla Station Homestead

Jane and Hayden Sale are the managing partners of a couple of cattle stations in the East Kimberley. Yougawalla and Bulka stations are at least 750,000 acres, and they are about to take over the leases on a couple of others pushing the amount of land they look after to over 3 million acres. A bit bigger than my grandfather's / uncle's farm at Pine Ridge I loved, and much bigger than Sara's place at Foster!

Yougawalla Swamp; we picknicked there.

Before we left, I spoke briefly to Hayden who had concerns about the van. "The roads not great", he said. "Is it washed out" I asked. "No, but there's a few patches of bulldust". At that point I could have said something smart, chose not to, and asked what bulldust was. We know now that it is incredibly fine sand, churned up by roadtrains as they chew the roads out with their loads of cattle. The kitchen cupboards know, the bathroom knows, the sheets all know. It is everywhere. Thankfully, the Disco had no dramas dragging Kimmy in. We left her at Bulka Station which is 90k's up the road from Fitzroy Crossing, and then 50k's in, then drove another 130k's into the desert to reach Yougawalla.

The homestead at Yougawalla sits on top if the highest hill in the immediate area with 360 degree views of the surrounding plains. It has been constructed from prefabricated units designed and shipped from Melbourne. I'm not sure why it has never featured in any magazine apart from Broome Weekly, because it is absolutely spectatcular. Amazing enough to almost convince Sara and myself that we could live there. Then Hayden left in his chopper to start work mustering at 5:30am, and Jane starting detailing some of the injuries that have occurred recently including scalpings, crushings, knees wrenched, backs busted, falls from horses, not to mention deaths by helicopter. We decided we weren't cut out for it.

Brahmin x Droughtmaster cattle

The dinner party ended for some at 4:30 am. It's been a long time for Hayden in between drinks. I quit at 12ish, Sara a bit earlier. Also at the party was a local contractor Lachie, and his German partner Tina. Lachie looked like Mollie Meldrum, Tina looked like Nina of 99 Luftballoons fame. How they met 5 years ago is one of the greatest stories I've ever heard. Suffice to say, that Tina was a young backpacker then, and Lachie was and probably is at 47, the greatest story teller I have ever met. He has his own jewellery line, Beef n' Reef, which combines polished cow horn, wait for it... with pearl. Sara is going to make her own, without the pearl.

Rusty, the dumbest cattledog in the world. Loved him

Whilst here, I expected to get a different perspective on the problems with the indigenous population and the environment. I didn't get that at all. I heard the same arguments I have heard myself make, but without any pretence towards political correctness and with no deference to the Greens. It also appears that the mess Julia's mob has made of the live cattle export to Indonesia is the worst case of Australian imperialism in South East Asia seen since we left New Guinea. And no one in Australia cares because everyone is so focussed on mining. We all agreed that farmers have a serious image problem; I called them rednecks, and they concurred. Being seen as rednecks isn't going to help them win over the city people, and they concurred. Spending time on a farm would solve the problem, well that should be obvious. Stop counting votes in marginal electorates Julia, and do your job to look after all of Australia. Must say though, not sure Tony would do things differently.

 

Kids on the farm, doin' farm kid stuff

The kids saw brandin', dehornin', musterin', spayin', clippin', taggin', feedin', and dopin'. In fact they saw so many 'ins Ned reckons he knows how to work on a farm. He'd be good at it too. They played with Gus and Tilly, Jane and Hayden's kids, and saw Gus hard at work on School of the Air. This was particularly interesting, as we'd visited it in Derby before we left, and we scored a special mention at Monday morning assembly!

We left Yougawalla after that, and drove back to Bulka. The very sensible 20 litre drum of diesel I'd purchased before we left Broome gave us the extra range to get into Fitzroy Crossing with the computer giving us 15 kilometres to go before the car exploded for lack of fuel. Sorry Tua. We had planned to leave the next day for our Kimberley Kamping Kapers, but were too stuffed so stayed here two nights. Kids made an abysmal attempt to catch up on journals except for Ivy, so what should have been a half day job will stretch into tomorrow morning. No matter, we'll be away from everything very soon as we head out to the Gibb River road and beyond to Mitchell Falls, and possibly beyond that, to Honeymoon Beach. Will let you know how we went in a fortnight!

H

A Lighter Shade of Pale

I don't think I have ever felt as white and inner suburban as I did when I parked the Disco outside the store in the Djarindjin community on Cape Leveque. Dogs and dust and very dark skins all turned to have a brief look at the Camberwell mob as it spilled out in a torrent of Sudoku puzzles, textas and wordfinds. We were there to meet Bundy, a Bardi tribal elder because he was taking us out on a cultural journey into his country. We were going to learn how to make spears and kill stuff with them.

Ned spears a mud crab

Bundy took a bit of getting used to. Whilst his English was perfect, he had a habit a lapsing into one of the 13 languages indigenous to the area. He wouldn't always answer questions in their entirety, at least not immediately. He also assumed I was comfortable driving in soft sand. Didn't get bogged this time, the Disco loved it, maybe there's something to dropping tyre pressure... However, Bundy was great company, loved to talk about his culture, he did know how to make spears, and he did know a lot about his country. Once the spears were made, we set off along the mangroves to find mud crabs. Bundy nailed one quickly, then corralled another for Oli and Ned to murder. Like a scene from "Lord of the Flies", that crab was punctured a thousand times before it eventually stopped waving its claws around.

Bundy, Ned & Crab

Meanwhile, Bundy's massive son Trevor, and grandson William, had speared a few fish. We think they cheated and used a spear gun. No matter, a fire was made, and we ate. Well, the kids didn't, rapidly deciding that mud crabs didn't taste as nice as Vegemite wraps. Didn't stop us getting up early the day after to get into the mangroves again in search of the suckers. No luck as per usual; getting our bag limit of none as Oli likes to say, but there is something primal and invincible and maybe a bit stupid in walking through salt-water crocodile friendly mangrove swamps armed only with a bit of sharpened wood. Still, we were all hunters once upon a time, so maybe there is a fraction of an instinct somewhere there.

We'd taken 5 days to head up to Cape Leveque from Broome having left the van in the caravan park. Beach shelter at Kooljaman, clifftop at Middle Lagoon. The former nice but busy, the latter very relaxed and beautiful, with interesting neighbours. Kerry and Jenny are from Springvale South, and with a background in teaching, loved chatting to the kids. Jason and Sue are from Cairns, and might take us out in their boat when we get there What a change form Barn Hill! Having said that, on arrival in Broome, the same bunch of Greyies that had witnessed a brilliant reverse park at 80 Mile Beach, happened to be next to us again. I hate to disappoint my fans, so nailed the park and wandered over to talk footy. They still can't believe I have an Eagles supporter for a son, but then neither can I.

Beagle Bay church decorated in mother of pearl

Cape Leveque is no longer as remote as it once was, with many of the local indigenous communities opening up for tourism. Unfortunately, mining's dark influence is evident here too, with Woodside planning to build a gas hub here because it is more convenient for them. Bundy doesn't want it, and neither does Broome, but it looks like a real possibility. Why Woodside can't be forced to stick to an area they have already buggered up ie Karratha or Port Hedland or the Amazon is beyond me, but I'm certain someone will do well. It won't be the locals, and it won't be you or me, unless you have shares with them, or your name is Colin Barnett. Then you'll make a tidy sum whilst this pristine region is raped. Hope the new plasma television makes you feel good and guilt free Col.



Sara, Ivy & Ned spearing at sunset, Kooljaman

We spent our time in Broome...actually not sure how we spent our time. Shopping I think. Restocking and making plans for five days before Cape Leveque. Restocking and making plans for five days afterwards too. We were close to Cable Beach, overrated in my book, but still a nice big, wide, white patch of sand with no surf but nudists up one end, camels in the middle, and weddings down the other. We've seen dinosaur footprints, the staircase to the moon, pearl farms, monster tides, and hermit crab racing. Gas has been fixed (dirty threads apparently) by Ronnie. Ronnie also fixed one of Kimmy's drop down legs. Ronnie's mate asked a lot of questions about scars which I happily answered because he was big and heavily tattooed, and had lost part of a finger to a dog.

One of Ned's frog buddies

In the mean time, Ned has been rescuing green tree frogs from the toilet bowls, Ivy and Sara have added to their already extensive shell collection, and Oliver is now a bona-fide twitcher. We left him at the Broome Bird Observatory (BBO) today. The resident bird boffins were more than happy to look after him. When I picked him up 5 hours later, he had seen 53 and had been invited back for more tomorrow. He is beyond excited, having taken part in the daily reckoning that Sara thinks Joc and Tony smirked at a couple of years ago.

Ivy in a 500k pearl necklace

The Disco has come in for some special loving also. We want to spend some extended time out in the Kimberley. Our current setup can only keep the kids in WeetBix for five days, max. So we added a roof basket, roof bag, and a jerry can of diesel so that we can head out bush for longer. Brando and I fitted the basket this afternoon over a beer. Brando is from Williamstown, but lives in Broome now and is an apprentice mechanic at the local 4WD repair shop. He was very helpful and chatty and his dog is a whippet / kelpie cross. Great combination. I'll tie the tyre down tomorrow, fit the roof bag, and then add a pipe to hold the fishing rods for decorative purposes. Some might say I'm just making another pathetic attempt to blend in with the locals and look like I know about 4WDing and stuff, but I actually think it will work this time... as long as the locals don't look like Bundy.

H

Heritage under threat!! Guest blog by Jo Leonard

Would you build the largest Liquid Natural Gas (LNG) plant in the world right beside the Sistine Chapel?

Were you disgusted at the abhorrent behaviour and total disregard for historical artefacts when in Afghanistan the Taliban blew up 800 year old Buddhas carved into the face of ancient mountains?  I was simply sad for the path that politics and the fight for power and resources had taken. I now feel this same sense of sadness about an area in north western Australia on the Burrup Peninsula, part of the Pilbara, where 30,000 year old rock carvings are under threat of industrialisation, soon to be broken up piece by piece.

My name is Jo Leonard and I am a fellow adventurer and friend of the Backsons, travelling with my husband, Peter and two beautiful girls, Summer (7) and Ciara (3), around Australia.

We recently visited the Burrup Peninsula, near Dampier, north west WA. It is home to unique petroglyphs, or indigenous rock carvings, that tell stories of the lives and changing landscapes of aboriginal communities that have lived in the region for the past 30 millennia. Yes, 30,000 years! Europe's churches, as fascinating as they are, are a microsecond on the earth's timeline when compared to this amazing artwork.

Robin Chapple, Greens member of the WA Legislative Council and author of an article that appeared in 'The Monthly' magazine in Feb 2011, said that the Burrup Peninsula "gives you something nowhere else in the world does - the continuity of societal behaviour during different climatic conditions". This translates into an illustrated story of the complex relationships between indigenous families, neighbours and warriors - belonging to the earlier artwork - and as time went on, carvings of the local environment and how the population survived. Among the carvings which my family saw were turtles, dugongs, kangaroos, hunters, maps and ceremonial markings littered over the iron-ore rocks the size of refrigerators, piled high like bricks discarded off a building site.

Not sign posted for the masses to see or even for the few to appreciate or admire, these exquisite carvings, said to be the largest and oldest of their kind in the world, are under threat. Petroglyphs in their thousands have been bulldozed during each new wave of industry.

Multiple interests exist in the region with the latest development being Woodside's North West Shelf project, named 'Pluto B'. But despite moving 170 blocks of rock carvings to a fenced area, I can only imagine how many more were desecrated in the process.

Rio Tinto holds leases over most of the Burrup Peninsula and funds archeological work in the region, taking its conservation responsibilities more seriously than some. But what will become of the region with more industrialisation which, to be pragmatic, is inevitable.

The Burrup Peninsula is listed in the National Trust of Australia Endangered Places register. But what does this mean? The region is already a mega magnet for industry, with several iron-ore loading facilities, a salt mine, fertiliser plant, oil and gas project and now a desalination plant in the planning. 

My children have thoroughly embraced our trip around their native home country, lapping up the experiences laid before them: walking through gorges, swimming in spring pools, lazing on white sandy beaches, swimming with turtles, tropical fish, sharks and blue spotted rays, as well as making boomerangs with dot paintings, understanding the relationships and connections between nature and indigenous mythology and the tragic history of explorers whose ships broke against our rocky shores. But what lays ahead for their children? Or the future of our society if we cannot teach and educate the young of their past, of a people who doggedly survived despite all that was delivered to them.

We visited Kangaroo Island earlier this year and studied the fur seals that call the island their home. The greatest threat to this population is, believe it or not, rubbish! Bottle rings, plastic bottles, rings of rope or fishing wire, slowly strangling the animal to its death. Several Save the Seals promotions have hit our newspapers and people are too often made aware of the plight of these animals. An informative Information Centre overlooks the beach where guided tours operate, led by naturalists who are only too well aware of the delicate habitat that exists below the sand dunes. But here the message is clear: save our seals..... don't litter in our seas!

But what of the message to save indigenous petroglyphs? There is no strategic management plan in place. No Information centre that can educate the public. No signage that states "do not walk on the artwork". Where are the politicians to support the preservation of one of Australia's most signifiant and would-be world heritage listed rock carving locations? Surely this too is worth saving?

I agree with Robin Chapple that we should lobby the politicians, mining magnates and the Indigenous community leaders to develop a conservation master plan involving all interested parties to protect the art, develop an information centre to administer the area, and educate visitors for you, me, our children and those who come long after us.

This unique juxtaposition of industry and cultural heritage should be encouraged and nurtured. Surely, the comforts that have been afforded me by industrialisation and technological advances can coexist with Australian cultural heritage, especially one that has become one of the most amazing landscapes that my family has experienced. Swimming in clear waters off a beautiful beach, playing tag with flat backed turtles, watching dolphins dance among the waves and knowing that there is not another soul for miles in both directions. Surely the Burrup Peninsula is worth saving.

What do you think, should our heritage be fighting for it's life? 

 Jo

Hamish's notes: We didn't get to the rock art. I'd read about it, and knew a bit about Rio Tinto's investment in the region. However when we asked locals about it, the standard answer was that they had never heard of it, there's nothing there, don't waste your time. I wish we had wasted our time because I'm not sure how much importance of sites like this, and the fact that they are worth more to our childrens future than a refinery or a mine. If you can't do either, please just have a think about it.

If you want to read or know more, try these links. If they fail, google it.

http://www.burrup.org.au/ntwa.pdf

http://www.themonthly.com.au/destruction-burrup-rock-art-beehive-robyn-davidson-2983

Thanks Jo,

H

Grey Nomad Dreaming

Shells from 80 Mile

It's been a while since I had a decent crack at the Greyies, but I'm afraid the time has come again. Whilst the lesson I learned from Rex at Bremmer Bay still holds, everyman surely has his limit when confronted on a daily basis by petty squabbles initiated by hunched over, leathered prunes whose mouths are pursed by years of sucking on lemons as they gossip in gaggles of pastel sun half-hats and spotless white golf shirts. And the stretch of land between 80 Mile Beach and Barn Hill is where they all come to die. An elephants graveyard for grey nomads.

As soon as we had checked in, it was as if the Disco had morphed into Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, transporting us to the land of Vulgaria where children were banned. Heads turned as I parked the van, but no help offered, no nods of welcome as our kids poured out. By chance we'd met up with Peter and Jo, and their two girls Summer and Ciara who we'd last seen in Cape Range. Other neighbours made themselves scarce, at least until we got told in no uncertain terms that we were being too loud at 9:45, and that lights out in Barn Hill was 9:00. That probably explained why they all started drinking at 2:00, with dinner at 4:30.

Ned and Zach on the top of Barn Hill

The Lintons showed up and set up camp which for them is a two hour exercise, only to be told that their neighbour had complained they were too close to him, and they were forced to move 1 metre away. No negotiation was entered into, they were told as if they should know. We asked to be able to use a bbq away from our campsite for Oli's birthday in part to placate our neighbour, and were initially told no, it's not the done thing. We asked to use the bowling green for the party, and have been informed that children are not allowed on the green even with strict supervision. We can use the lawn though with it's peaks and valleys, how generous. Just do us a favour Sandra, and put up a sign saying "NO KIDS ALLOWED (exceptions will be made for feral goats)".

Oli hurling one down

Appropriately, it is the kids who have been able to minimise the negativity to some extent. Oli ended up watching the Eagles vs Dockers game with a bunch of them. They now say hi to him, and have helped Matt and Oli with their birdwatching. The Linton's eldest boy Josh loves to fish, and has met some greyies in that hopeless pursuit. Jo's neighbour complimented her on the kids behaviour. At Eighty Mile beach, the kids were given a used fishing rod, and several shell animals. I know that most of them are good people who only wish us the best. What's frustrating is that we exist in parallel universes. We see the same things, we live next door to each other, but unless we converse over issues like water filters and awnings, or what the high in the bight means in terms of wind, we exist only for them to moan about as they position satellite dishes in front of 70's brown Jayco pop ups, and jealously guard their beige, oversized smalls in the washing machines.  

L-R Josh, Zach, Matt, Ned, Ciara, Oli, Ivy, Summer, Abbie

We've loved Barn Hill. It is unspoilt, sunsets are magnificent, the beach is clean with interesting rocks to clamber over. Josh nearly stepped on a deadly sea snake, and Oli is having an unusual birthday. I wish I wasn't feeling so negative and antagonistic to the elder residents of this station turned caravan park but I am, and it is likely I will until I am allowed to return here in twenty years time. In the meantime, I will try eeven harder to say g'day. I will smile, and joke, and help them cross the road safely because it's what Rex would do.

H