WE ONLY WENT FOR THE LOOKA.

 WE ONLY WENT FOR THE LOOKA

In 1989, the year after Kim graduated from the Royal College of Art, she had a post card from a fellow student who was visiting Queensland. It was one of those cards with a collage of several small pictures, showing various exotic tropical birds and flowers. Our conversation went something like this:

Joint ‘OOH!’

Me ....‘I’ve always wanted to go to Australia’

Kim ....’It would be great, wouldn’t it?’

Both.... ‘ Well, why don’t we?’

By the end of the afternoon  the Atlas was on the table and we had got the trip half planned,  and when Tony came home from work we said ....‘We’re going to Australia. Do you want to come?’

Tony ....‘of course’

And so his boss kindly let him have some months off, and by July we were in Sydney. 

A friend who had emigrated there twenty years earlier under the ‘£10 Pom Scheme’ nursed us though our first week of jet lag, culture shock, the finding and purchase  of a secondhand campervan, camping gear and grub. Lured by her annual Christmas letters talking of endless blue skies and warm sun, we were chilled to find Sydney’s winter was being cold and wet and we piled on loaned  sweaters. We were wakeful at night and zombies in the afternoons till the jet lag wore off .

I quote from the log: ‘Off down to the nearby playing fields alongside the River Paramatta. An abundance of birds, especially Parrot species in the trees and on the ground.

Sulphur-crested Cockatoos

Galahs

Along the river  which was mainly lined by mangroves were creeks and inlets where we saw Egrets and Ibises White-faced Herons and Pelicans.The novelty of it all from the exotic to the mundane sight of sow thistles peering from a mat of leathery Buffalo Grass, and House Sparrows hopping into an exotic bush, was astounding.’

We were soon off,  heading west for the Blue Mountains, as we’d heard of them.  After that, we had no plan other than to follow our noses.

As soon as we’d got out of Sydney’s urban sprawl we settled down to start looking around, but the strange landscape passed in a blur until we got into the mountains away from any settlement. From a rocky vantage point we gazed through the fabled blue haze, across endless forest, cut up by precipitous gorges and not a dwelling in sight. 

Blue Mountains, New South Wales

It was our first inkling of how BIG the country was. We also realized that, unlike home and even the parts of Europe we knew, you couldn’t just decide to go for a walk. At home you could go for a walk without having to worry about time, taking a hat, taking sufficient water. Here, not only were there these constraints but also, at least here in the mountains, there were the  limitations imposed by the savage terrain of intersecting steep gorges and virtually impenetrable understorey. No wonder the early settlers took years to find a way though to the inland country beyond this barrier.

We hadn’t bargained for that. But in fact, our short forays into country just within reach of the van were so full of everything new to look at, from the ground to the tree tops,  we found there was already more than enough to wonder at, draw, photograph, try to name...

At first we were very jumpy as we left the Blueys and headed north. We were intimidated by the distances between any support in the way of petrol stations or small townships, and didn’t in those early days quite trust the van not to break down. We had no walkie talkie and this was before the days of mobile phones.

Cleared pastoral country north of the Blueys.

We joined the Pacific Highway, the main road north. Back then it was very quiet and narrow, just one lane. The convention was if there was an oncoming vehicle, each would put one wheel onto the dirt at the side of the road, looking out for washouts which would do you a severe mischief if you hit them at any speed.  We wild-camped at every opportunity, which was easy enough in that country between the Great Dividing Range and the coast.

Slowly travelling North we detoured to the coast with the blue Pacific gently lapping miles of golden sand, patrolled by occasional Silver Gulls, Whistling and Brahminy Kites and various Terns.

Pacific

Silver Gull, the only gull species till the south of the Continent, which made life easy.

 The bush country abounded with birds and butterflies, every one new, even belonging to groups new to us: Fairy Wrens, Honeyeaters, Shrike Thrushes,  Thornbills, some of them 'little brown jobs’ but many colourful and exotic. The multi-coloured parrots were surprisingly well camouflaged when up among the leaves of trees.

 Extensive wetlands gave us waterfowl, storks, ibises, gallinules, elusive turtles and a host of dragonflies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spoonbills and Sharp-tailed Sandpiper

Long-necked turtles

At other times we went up valleys into the foothills of the Dividing Range following rivers tumbling down between great boulders in rainforest.

Strangler Fig with epiphytic Stagshorn ferns in canopy.

 

 The temperate forests with trees tangled and clotted with draped vines and epiphytic ferns, gave way to more tropical forest: silent cathedrals among great buttressed roots, clear bird calls from neck-achingly high canopy, the sharp whiplash calls of Whip-birds, and the accurate mimicry of Lyre Birds as they scratched among the leaf litter below the trees.

Paradise Riflebird

Vast buttress roots of huge rainforest tree

 One morning,  driving slowly along a quiet road flanked by thick forest one side and looking down to the mangrove-fringed coast on the other, we stopped abruptly as a Cassowary trotted across in front of us, the casque on it’s head conspicuous, and  hair-like plumage and red wattles shaking like my mum’s  feather duster. We had been warned that when an Emu crossed the road, to look out as they always travel in pairs and you may hit the second, but no-one mentioned Cassowaries.

Land cleared by ring-barking or burning to give grazing.

We avoided the coastal towns and traveled parallel to the coast  but some miles inland, crossing great plains of cleared woodland, either burnt off, grubbed out or ring-barked to give grazing land for large herds of very fine looking Herefords, Red Santas, or further north,creamy hump -shouldered Brahman cattle.

Burning-off. Notice the kites and falcons sitting on fence posts waiting for insects.

Brahman bull, quite docile!

Some irrigated land grew bananas, and vast areas of sugar cane and one day we stopped down a track for lunch . A farmer drove  along as we were watching the butterflies feeding on a clump of Lantana.He had been cutting pineapples and he insisted on giving us a boxful .

 ‘They won’t grade anyway’ he told us.

They were infested with little black ants but we ate the juicy pines with relish. Some days later I found the ants had decamped to one of my walking boots that I hadn’t worn for some time in the increasing heat, and they made a thriving colony under the insole!

We reached Cairns, up the Queensland coast, in those days a quiet little tropical  town, centre for the obligatory trip to the Reef, snorkelling, submarine views of the reef and an elaborate buffet lunch thrown in. That done, we spent a few days pushing on further north into true tropical rainforest with exotic butterflies and blossom trees and saltwater crocs in the green waters of the Daintree River.

  We thought about man-eating saltwater crocs just the other side of our flimsy aluminium boat!

Fruit bats clustered in the trees on the banks distracted us.

 Road going north from the Daintree River, North Queensland. Flame trees were spectacular.

Every camp stop was difficult to tear ourselves away from. Kim especially wanted to stop and draw everything, but at the same time we were driven on by the urge to see what  was ahead.

We learnt in Cairns that the road to the Red Centre was now surfaced, and allured by the thought of Alice Springs, Ayers Rock and the Outback, we did a big grub shop, got a third jerry can for diesel, a third 5-gallon can for water, and set off.  Weekly coaches did the trip in 3 days, roaring through the bush, blinds down, videos on. No wonder people said the outback was boring! We took 3 weeks to get to Alice. 

 

The road west. It looks empty but if you stop there is plenty to see.

 There were often plants at the edge of the road, benefitting from any slight run-off if there had been rain. They attracted lots of little blue butterflies. This is a Mulla Mulla flower.

We got sophisticated and later ran two SITIs

Up in the Daintree country we had met an old bushman who introduced us to the SITI as he called it. (Self –Inductive Thermal  Instrument!) In other words a 1 gallon metal can with a semi-circle cut out of the lower side. Light a few twigs in it and aided by the draught from the cut-out section, a safe fire flared up hot and within minutes the billy standing on top of the can was boiling, or a one-pot meal  was quickly cooked. Our Siti was used constantly after that, and we never resorted to  a camp fire or the van hotplate again! The inevitably sooty utensils and the leather glove we picked up at the roadside for handling the hot things, were kept in a bag on the ‘roo bar in the front, and in the arid zones  where it could be difficult to find wood, we carried a bundle of dry sticks for the stove.

Toast for breakfast. We made marmalade from wild oranges we found.

Even in the outback the hand of man could be seen : fence-line among mulga bush. Mulga gave the best, hottest firewood.

Hot lunch stop near Alice Springs

 We had no fridge in the van, just an ‘esky’ (an insulated cool box, ) so we soon ate our way through fresh fruit, veg, bread and meat. We cooked damper, both plain and sweet with raisins, and had a pot of  bean sprouts on the go all the time, but otherwise made a variety of ‘one pot’ meals from assorted tins , herbs and spices. The heat depresses appetite but we drank a lot. I made lemon juice which was refreshing and at petrol stations along the way we bought bags of ice and perhaps a loaf. The big indulgence was an iced coffee! The ozzie favourite, ice cold beer in a ‘tinnie’ didn’t suit us. The evidence of the outback’s vast thirst lay around in the bush, at the roadsides and at bush camps:  dark brown glass bottles, now superseded  by discarded ‘tinnies’.

 

Cadney Park roadhouse. Printed large on the map you'd have thought we were going to a town!

An oasis which offered showers, water, cold drinks, fuel(usually, though we had to wait 3 days for deisel in one place!) frozen sliced bread but not much shade.

The occasional 'real' township like Cloncurry was always dominated by the pub.

 

 We topped up with water at every opportunity. In some areas the bore water was too mineralized to be palatable, and the tea made from it often smelt of iodine; in fact sometimes it upset my innards, but was good enough for the stock.

 

 Any hint of water and there would be birds.

Rainbow Bee-eater.

 We had thought Alice Springs and Ayers Rock were in the same place. In fact, Ayers Rock was about 100 kms further west, and we passed though much spectacular scenery on the way.

 

Wind-eroded sides of Ayers Rock. A 9km walk round it. Believe it or not we met a lad who had been to Kim's school in Callington!!

In those days, you could climb up to the top of the rock. We did it at dawn to avoid the crowd.

Hackneyed icon though it is, it's sheer bulk was awe-inspiring.

 Wildlife abounded. These are Painted Firetails in the hills and gorges on the way to Ayers Rock.

 

 And the fearsome-looking Spiny Devil, not at all prickly really, and beautifully camouflaged for his stony surroundings.

 You never knew what might cross the road in front of you. This was a Perentie, a lizard about 3 feet from nose to tail-tip.

 

 And from about 10am as the ground warmed up you could often see Shingle-backs, a stumpy-tailed kind of lizard. If alarmed they opened their blue-lined moth wide and hissed.

 

Turning south after our exploration of the Alice/Ayers rock area the outback changed from occasional bush-studded grassland, often wispy and with bare scald areas of wind-burnished gravels, and a shimmering mirage on the horizon. The air smelt of dried hay and was thick with a pelt of desert flowers, the result of good rains some three months back. In fact a friend had travelled that road back in the rains and in places the road had been impassably flooded!

The stunning scarlet Sturt's Desert Pea.

The accumulations of seeds from this flowering had attracted large mixed flocks of finches, chats and ground parrots. The birds of these arid regions are highly nomadic and move over great distances to feed on the bonanza of seeds. There were still the remnants of occasional water holes which also attracted birds for a drink,wash and brush up towards the end of the afternoons.

Spinifex Pigeon finding water. This is a true desert pigeon. There are many dove species in Australia and I think their calls evoke the country the most vividly of all.

It was with mixed feelings that we drew south  between drying salt lakes and away from the outback. I loved the empty arid zones, the idyllic evenings with limpid skies, the huge space, but always deep at the back of my mind was the  oppressive thought of a breakdown in that vast emptiness.....we never discussed it and I didn’t even actively think about it, but when we were out of it I felt a slight lifting.

 

Where to fit in a picture of a Kangaroo? Different species occupied different habitats. They were as small as rabbits and as large as a tall man if they reared up on their hind legs.

 But yet more new country was ahead of us . We went down to the soth coast of South Australia and couldn't resist going to have a look at Callington.

 

 It had been a mining town in the past, with both Methodist miners from the Tamar Valley area and Lutheran miners from Germany. Their chapels stood opposite each other.

 

 It was a quiet almost deserted little settlement set in the wide flat South Australian counrtyside.

We then cut diagonally up from the south coast of South Australia, through  the extensive mallee country of Victoria. Mallee, rather than the name of one species of Gum, is the name of the multi-stemmed habit of growth of the Eucalyptus woodland of the area.

Mallee Gums

As soon as we went into a different area, with different habitats, we had to learn a whole suit of new birds and their songs.

 Every walk was a voyage of discovery and the novelty never faded.

This trackless expanse was very disorientating. We met a lady who had got lost when in a bush camp in this country. She left her tent in the night to spend a penny and then couldn't find her tent again till in a very lucky blundering about, she stumbled upon it.

Our time was running out and we passed though inland New South Wales and back to Sydney in a bit of a blur. We had seen more than enough to take in!

 

 Largely pastoral country, interspersed with more striking geology and iconic animals and birds was a fitting end to an unforgettable experience.

 

Despite initial views, Koalas DO move around!

 

 Butterfly. With hindsight I wish we had run a moth trap, but there wouldn't have been time!

Scrawled on a picnic table at a roadside pull-in up in Northern Queensland were the words WE ONLY CAME FOR THE LOOKA.

That went for us too, and it led to a succession of trips around Oz over the next six years. We have seen extremes of weather from frost and snow to drought, and great heat;  suffered thirst and dehydration, bites and frights; have been not quite lost but definitely disorientated, bogged and driven mad by sand flies, bush flies, and mozzies; amazed and full of wonder. A love-hate relationship that I wouldn’t change for the world.

 ALL DRAWINGS ARE BY DAUGHTER KIM.