The other great part was the water. All the taps on the property took water from a natural, mineral spring close by. It was some of the best water I’ve ever tasted, and we could drink it by the bucketful. All I could think about was brewing some beer with it--man it was good.
On our way to Udialla Springs, we camped at a cliff top rest area where the wind was strong but the sunset was spectacular. We took this opportunity to air out our damp gear from the Bungles. On the drive in to Udialla the next morning, the rapidly changing Kimberly wilderness around us hinted that this WWOOF experience would be completely unique. Pink cockatoos (Galahs) began flying with us as the unsealed road changed from brown dirt to red sand, and we grew more excited about reaching the property. Udialla Springs is owned and managed by an Aboriginal man, Neville Poelina, along with his wife Jo and their kids Simon and Angelina. They run a non-profit business called ‘Uptuyu Aboriginal Adventures,’ a corporation that runs tours of the local Kimberly region through an indigenous lens. Neville and Jo are also currently readying their property for use as a permaculture center and wilderness camp. It will soon be a place of learning for not only establishing and sustaining a nationwide network for indigenous tourism, but also for positive exchanges between cultures and between people and the land. Needless to say, we were ecstatic about any help we could provide for his project. Neville and his new touring 4WD bus! Jo first greeted us as we arrived on their property, and she immediately welcomed us to join in the delicious fried rice lunch she had just prepared. Soon after we met Neville, whose first task for us was to take a wander around his land. In the late afternoon we began our walk and Neville joined us so that he could gather bush medicine for Phil, the kids’ live-in teacher (the kids attended School of the Air: an Aussie education system for children in rural areas to attend school via radio transmissions and now the internet). As we meandered through Neville’s beautiful property, he took the time to pause at various plants and trees to teach us their medicinal and practical uses, which his people have known about for thousands of years. Neville shows Julia the uses for Acacia Soap Wattle “This is really the land of milk and honey,” he said with a proud smile. “Come over here I’ll show you what I mean.” Just off trail Neville led us to a fairly innocuous tree where he pointed out a tiny hole in the bark no wider than a pencil. “Put your ear to the hole.” We all looked at him to see if he was serious; maybe we were about to experience an Aboriginal practical joke initiation. One by one we timidly placed our ears on the hole, and were amazed to hear the sound of tiny bees buzzing. “Those are honey bees. That tree limb is full of honey.” We all let out a collective “Whooooaaa.” At another tree, an Acacia Soap Wattle, Neville demonstrated how the curled seedpods created a frothy soap when rubbed together with the smallest bit of water. Barbeque at the sunset picnic hill We quickly learned Neville’s WWOOFing guidelines at Udialla: a hard days work for a good days feed. He and Jo were incredibly flexible on when we could work; we could even work at night and relax and fish all day if we wanted to. The “good days feed” part became apparent immediately. On the first night we were fed flame-roasted duck, curried eggs, fresh green beans, and salad. Every night was different; we never ate the same meal twice. Jo made several mean curries over the course of the week. One evening we had the freshest beef we’ve ever eaten – ribs from a young feral bull that had been hunted that very afternoon. The mornings were pretty low-key and we mainly ate cereal, though the family seemed a bit disturbed by how heavily we pounded the cereal and milk. Being American cereal junkies, we couldn’t help but feel that we were completely depleting their milk and cereal resources. Mar tests the bush shower The work to be done at Udialla was pretty variable and depended solely on whatever projects came to Neville’s mind each morning. There were a ton of projects, so there was no shortage of work for the three of us. One of our first assignments was to help Julia, another wwoofer from Ukraine, make an outdoor shower enclosure out of spinifex and chicken wire. Spinifex is a small, spiky shrub that grows all over the desert regions of Australia. According to Neville, Aboriginals favored the waxy plant as a kind of wall insulation and weather guard. We spent the better part of the next few days digging a 100-meter long trench for a much anticipated phone line between the main house and the schoolhouse. We finished the project much faster than they had anticipated, so we were able to begin our stay with a good first impression. In Memoriam: Neville's Ironwood Tree As the days progressed, however, it seemed more and more like we had used up all of our competence for that trench. Our next project should have been an easy morning job – Neville wanted us to cut down a specific dead gum tree just down the dirt road from the homestead for firewood. What we didn’t realize was that “just down the road” in Neville’s mind meant about 7-8 km down the road. Instead we found a dead looking tree about 700 m from the property that seemed to fit the description. Turned out that very tree was a 150-200 year old ironwood tree that held special significance to both Neville and his extended family. And we had just chopped it into little pieces with a chainsaw. Just the other day, Neville had told us a number of such stories where people mistreated or did not respect the Aboriginal land of Australia and were thus subject to vengeful spirits and other mysterious forces of nature. We were obviously mortified. Fortunately, Neville was sublimely gracious about the incident and despite our insistence that we somehow atone for our deed, he told us simply not to linger on it. From then on we couldn’t seem to get anything right and definitely felt a bit cursed, especially when it came to cutting down trees. For another project, Neville wanted us to cut down some tall, skinny invasive trees for a shade shelter he wanted built. We ended up basically breaking both of his chainsaws. Devin was feeling especially cursed because he was the one who cut down THE tree and who was holding both chainsaws when they crapped out. In his defense, the chainsaws were not in the best condition and the trees we were cutting had incredibly sticky/wet wood, making the chainsaw work 10x harder than usual. Nevertheless, it became a running joke to keep all mechanical things away from Devin, lest they be inevitably destroyed. Woot. On a lighter note, when we weren’t destroying beloved flora and machinery, we had plenty of time to explore. Neville frequently encouraged us to go fish the Fitzroy River that ran through his property and happened to be a haven for barramundi, a prized fish of northern Australia, akin to striped bass of the states. Though I didn’t catch a barra, I did finally manage to catch A fish! After months of fruitless angling, I managed to land a nice little catfish in the moonlight. Devin, on the other hand, caught a beautiful barramundi using a simple handline and a Godzilla-sized prawn as bait, just as he was pulling his line in to call it quits. When the fish first jumped out of the water, the splash was so big and loud we all thought he had hooked a croc! Rather than immediately hate him, I chose the high road and lived vicariously through his joy and helped him net the fish. We decided to barbeque it whole the next night, stuffed with onions, garlic, ginger and a dash of soy sauce and lemon juice – flipping incredible. From now on, I am cooking my fish whole. No filleting, no scaling, just gut it, stuff it with deliciousness and throw it on the grill. Not only was this the first whole-cooked fish I’d ever had, I also took the opportunity to try fish eye for the first time. I felt like I couldn’t really call myself a fisherman until I’d had some eye. In case you’re wondering, it’s quite tasty – reminded me of sautéed duck fat. To reach the fishing spots required another fun-filled feature of Udialla Springs – push starting or tractor-pull-starting the rickety Toyota Landcruiser that was at our disposal. What the lumbering vehicle lacked in mechanical reliability it made up for in serious character. The doors only opened from the inside, the rear gate was held shut by bungee cord, the headlights required some telegraph-style manipulation before they would stay on, and you could only push start it in third gear. Out in the remote fishing locations, far away from the tractor, it was often nerve-racking when deciding where to park it, as it required human brute force and a good bit of incline and gravity to get the thing started. Steve tests the waters One of the greatest parts of living at Udialla was getting to know Neville’s family, as well as meeting all the fantastic people that passed through. For a large portion of our stay we had the pleasure of sharing the breakfast and dinner table with Jen and Alisdair, an ex-pat British couple from Melbourne. They spent much of their days wandering the property to help Neville document the local flora and fauna for his tourism business. Steve, an ex-pat Czechoslovakian (he left before it split) stopped by for a few days to test the water quality of the natural springs on the property and to upgrade their solar power setup. All had amazing life stories to tell and all were quick to offer a bed in their home if we were to ever pass through their towns. The other great part was the water. All the taps on the property took water from a natural, mineral spring close by. It was some of the best water I’ve ever tasted, and we could drink it by the bucketful. All I could think about was brewing some beer with it--man it was good. At the end of our stay we were reluctant to go but had to keep moving, especially since Devin’s departure date from Perth was fast approaching. On our last day at Udialla, Neville invited us to tag along with one of his professional tours he happened to be giving to a German couple that day. He took us to a shady spot amongst the gum trees and told us about the importance of Songlines in Aboriginal culture. These are oral storytelling devices that essentially outline a person’s life story and branch out from the Songlines of that person’s ancestors. These stories are complex and interconnected, as well as very practical. Family histories are preserved in the stories, and since there is such an interrelationship between the people and the land, these same stories can be used like oral road maps, providing information about that family’s traditional land – where one might find water or food in the area, for instance. Angelina shares some wildflowers with Mar Neville then told us a Dreamtime (creation) story of his people that explained why the blue-tongued lizard and snake are enemies intertwined with a Dreamtime story about how the Kimberly landscape of his property was formed. At one point in the story, the lizard leads two exhausted boys, who had been running from a snake, to a secret place where water can be found. At this point, Neville’s two children began removing loose pieces of paperbark piled at the foot of a gum tree to reveal a cooking pot-sized hole in the tree base. We were amazed to find it full of crystal clear water. Angelina scooped the water into a small cup for us to taste. This was some of the sweetest, purest water I’ve ever tasted, all the while in the middle of desert scrubland. Apparently if you were to dig a well anywhere else in the area, you would only find brackish water, yet here was this tree that somehow managed to maintain a small cauldron of pristine water with an essence of tea tree oil. It felt like for just a moment I was allowed into an entirely different world of knowledge, a kind of connection to the land that most of humanity has entirely forgotten. It was such an incredible privilege to bear witness to one of the innumerable secrets that Aboriginals have uncovered from the land. We drove out of the property heavy-hearted but enlightened and overjoyed to have left Neville feeling that we had been accepted into the family – as schmaltzy as it sounds, we felt our hearts glow.
0 Comments
Dev and Mar prepare for the joy of crossing the border The day after our Kakadu jaunt, we exuberantly crossed the Western Australia border, finally shedding the stubborn, expensive magnetism of the Northern Territory. After driving through the quarantine checkpoint (WA is extremely serious about its environmental restrictions – they confiscated all our fresh produce and our jar of honey), we could immediately sense a difference from all the other Australian states we had been through before. Like a breath of fresh air, the landscape was vibrant and ornate, full of new and diverse plants and trees and rock formations. The road itself seemed new and refreshing, free from swarms of backpackers, irritated commuters, and Grey Nomads (retirees in caravans). As we drove deeper and deeper into WA, we felt energized, as if Australia had opened up a secret door just for the three of us. The guys do some test lunges with their pearly whites... Ew. Our first stop in Western Australia was the town of Kununurra, where we restocked on water and classic Aussie men’s wear. The guys had been hankering for some stubbies for a long portion of our journey and finally found some suitable pre-loved pairs in Kununurra. To enlighten those back home, stubbies are shorts. Not just shorts but incredibly short shorts that allow tans in places where the sun don’t usually shine. Rugby players show off their sculpted quads in stubbies, but more often than not, stubbies are seen on your everyday Aussie country man – the rounded, doughy guy who shows off a little too much as he steps out of his dirty white ute at the gas station, shirtless and holding a beer can. Ben has been itching to write a blog essay focused on the stubbie phenomenon, so when we’re in a more settled place, stay tuned. You’re in for a treat. In Kununurra we gathered some info on the Kimberly (the so-called last great frontier of Australian wilderness) and forged our game plan for our adventures through it. We had been in contact with another WWOOF host who said we could join them at their property before they left for a vacation at the end of September. Without much time between our arrival and their departure, and wanting to leave northern Australia before the wet season began, we decided to do a short explore in the Bungle Bungles (a unique geological landscape in the southeast Kimberly) and then make a b-line for Udialla Springs (where we would WWOOF) on the southwestern edge. Into the Kimberly and the Bungle Bungles! The Bungle Bungles (or Purnululu National Park) is located down a 53 kilometer, one-lane, unsealed road full of corrugation and blind crests. We were told at the information center to allow roughly 2 hours of drive time for this shortish track so as not to get in a wreck or completely destroy our vehicle. It ended up being a breathtaking ride, but due to the fragility of our very light 4WD vehicle, it took us a good three and a half hours to reach the park. Once in, we had another half hour of slow drive time to get to a good camping area for the night. Too close for missiles, we're switching to guns. Just as we began to cook dinner, the skies opened up and we had our first taste of the northern Australian wet season. Devin worked on a sauce in the back of the car with a lid from a plastic bin on his head to keep out the rain while I attempted to shield the noodles on Ben’s camping stove from the water with my body. In the end I ended up completely soaked underneath my rain gear but the budget noodles with a veggie and peanut satay sauce turned out quite nicely. Bounding into Mini Palms Gorge We unfortunately had only one full day to take advantage of the park, but luckily other than the multi-day 80-kilometer track (which we would’ve loved to do) we were able to tackle the park’s five other hikes, which were absolutely spectacular. [The park has only a handful of hiking tracks because the rest of the land is designated as Aboriginal living space and culturally sacred areas.] We began our day in the northern half, hiking through Mini Palms Gorge and Echidna Chasm. Although these had their own unique beauty, I felt so much nostalgia for Utah, particularly with Echidna Chasm: a slot canyon much like ones we had explored in the Escalante region of southern Utah. Piccaninny Creek Bed and The Bungles In the afternoon, we made our way south and hiked through the official “Bungle Bungles” – beehive-shaped rock formations with striations of red sandstone and black cyanobacteria. At this point in the day the sky had turned overcast and we welcomed the misty rain, which not only cooled us down but also discouraged any other potential tourists from hiking, leaving us alone in this mystical wonderland. We weaved through the Bungles and ended up along an incredible riverbed, eventually reaching a magnificent lookout point. Ben’s camera battery unfortunately died right before we reached the lookout, but the landscape we traversed to get there was absolute magic. Across the riverbed we rounded a corner into a cluster of bungles that encircled a small patch of rolling rocks and sand covered in brilliant yellow and purple desert flowers. The lookout itself had us up on a rocky cliff between two bungles, looking down at the bungle formations in the distance. Piccaninny Creek Bed and The Bungles With the sky overcast, we had trouble determining the time of day, but decided that it was getting close to dark. With one hiking track left and daylight running low, we made a quick choice to haul-ass down the trail to view Cathedral Gorge. We jogged through the dimly lit canyon, weaving in and out of a dry, sandy riverbed until we reached the Cathedral itself. Again, I was amazed by the resemblance this place had to Utah, which has a spot known as Golden Cathedral. These two Cathedral spaces looked, to me, almost identical – both rounded, sheltered caverns of rock with rainwater pools sitting just under runoff points in the rock above - the only main difference being that the runoff point in Utah is a fully formed oculus. We paid our respects to this beautiful place and its resident nocturnal animals and then went at full tilt trail running speed back out of the canyon until we reached the car park right as it became completely dark. Awesome. That night, the rains came down on us once more. Not wanting a drenching repeat of dinner the night before, we hunkered down in the car, each with our own can of spaghetti and sauce, passing around a large can of baked beans. Quality camping fare paired with The Princess Bride. Unbeatable. We took the long drive out the next morning light and exhilarated. After finally satisfying our need for some bushwalking and outdoor adventuring, we continued west on the Flinders Highway to make the Mount Isa Rodeo, Australia’s largest rodeo and apparently the second largest in the world. From what we had heard about “The Isa,” we were in for “the real Australia” where Mount Isa’s biggest claim to fame is its mining industry. We knew before we got there that, due to the huge draw of the rodeo, it was going to be hard finding a nearby campsite that wasn’t booked solid. Just to be sure, we stopped in at the local Information Center to see if they knew about any openings. In case you haven’t been to Oz or are planning on traveling there, these Info Centers are in nearly every substantial town in Australia, and can be a fantastic resource for finding out about anything from good local mechanics to upcoming festivals and markets that you wouldn’t otherwise discover. To our surprise, the one at Mt. Isa was offering its back yard as a rodeo overflow campsite. For a $20 donation to the Mt. Isa Outback Information Center, we were allowed to camp for two days in their back parking lot. This was really exciting, not only because we were a 10 min walk from the rodeo, but also because it meant that for the first time in a while, we would be sleeping on grass--soft, spongy, wonderful grass. Being the only vaguely populated area for miles and miles around, I guess it makes sense that the rodeo was actually much smaller than we expected. Over many summers, Mar has gone to the Estes Park Rodeo in Colorado, and this rodeo seemed roughly the same size. The Isa Rodeo was however a bit surreal, because if you ignored the grating Aussie accents of the passersby, the scene as a whole felt like something straight out of the Heartland. At times it felt like you were in alternate dimension Wyoming, with leather-skinned cowboys donning Akubra hats rather than Stetsons, drinking Tooheys instead of Bud, and dancing to a country music band playing AC/DC covers rather than Lynyrd Skynyrd. The whole event was tons of fun and brought Mar back to her wrangling days. She realized she was in serious horseback riding withdrawal. The main arena was open air, and we arrived in the afternoon when the sun was hitting the front and center rows. Since no one wanted to bear the heat, these seats were open and as we were all used to being out in the sun, we snatched up these prime pieces of event real estate. It was that much more awesome to watch the bull and bronc riders, barrel racers and ropers just feet away from us. While camped behind the Info Center, we met a wonderful elderly couple from Tasmania who wanted to know all about us, where we’d been, where we were going, etc. When we mentioned we were heading to the Kimberly National Park after Darwin, the old man’s eyes lit up. An avid four wheel driver (though recently retired, it seemed), this man had driven throughout the Kimberly on its many 4WD tracks, as well as through some extremely remote parts of Australia which most sane people wouldn’t go near. Between stories of his adventurous youth, he remained adamant about us driving the Gibb River Road through the Kimberly. According to him, the Kimberly was Australia’s last frontier, where no sealed roads exist, and where some of the most beautiful scenery in the world can be found. While it sounded like an incredible opportunity for adventure, it also sounded like the potential destruction of Alby. He assured us that as long as we lowered our tire pressure a bit and drove slow we would not run into any problems and the benefits would far outweigh the risks. It was definitely something to seriously consider as we prepared for our push to Darwin the next morning. |
Marielle & BenWe're two people in the midst of severe quarter-life crises who decided to leave good jobs in a bad economy to travel to the other side of the world because, well, why not? Archives
April 2011
Categories
All
|