Sep 28, 2020
It’s just G-e-o-l-o-g-y
Apologies to Joe Jackson
seen from Italy
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Finland
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Ireland
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Maldives
seen from Maldives
seen from South Korea
It’s just G-e-o-l-o-g-y
Apologies to Joe Jackson
Panorama
Just a few panoramas of the rock. It tends to dominate the surrounding landscape!
Bungarra
Spotted this week on the rubbish run was this fine example of the Bungarra or Sand goanna rummaging around in the trash looking for food scraps. A good 1.5m long I was treating this animal with a great deal of respect.
Dehydration
Whilst we do not know for sure until the coroners reports are released it is assumed 3 people unfortunately died of dehydration on the rock this week. The community was understandably upset and the mood somber. It is not unheard of however as, on average, one person dies every year of dehydration here. This is despite abundant advice about the dangers involved in climbing particularly when it’s hot.
There are signs up in the campsite office and on the noticeboard near the camp kitchen. Staff members always reiterate this information and advise an early start, just after dawn, to get most of the walk done before the heat of the afternoon. Above 30C people should really consider their safety before attempting what is a serious walk. This week it’s been up to at least 38C and probably more on the rock where afternoon radiant heat will amplify this considerably.
https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-09-16/three-deaths-at-remote-mount-augustus-tourist-site-police-say/12670098
Mustering - The Pointy End of Things
Cattle were pulled in to the water mill resting areas and corralled by the buggies not needed to chase down more, trying to keep them calm and not breaking out. No fences here. Occasionally someone would make break for it only to be herded back in. When new cattle arrived there was much bellowing and mooing checking out the new ones coming in.
“Same as last year Frank, they round us up, keep us here for a while then take us down the road eh!”
“Pretty much Clive, pretty much”.
It was not all straight forward by any means and I got to understand the true meaning of Bush Bashing. The Jesus bar on the passenger side was heavily gripped as there were no seat belts. Real cowboys don’t use seat belts.
Lots of dust, lots of crashing around at high speed through dry scrub chasing down cattle and ‘persuading’ them to join the growing mob at the wind mill and trough. Many resist, at least initially, until they’re tired then they toe the line a bit more. Breakouts are real and often.
One recalcitrant bull as big as the buggy was chased down and harried for a long time through thick scrub. The buggy eventually caught up and rammed the bull from behind several times to little effect. Eventually he was brought along side, the passenger side, my side, remember the extra plating there? A game of push and nudge at speed ensued getting rougher and rougher until the bull was knocked over and pinned against a tree. Annoyed as fuck was he. Frothing mouth, rolling red and white eyes and mean looking horns belting the side of the buggy inches away from the open window and me. Mind you I would be angry too being on the end of that kind of treatment plus being scarred shitless no doubt.
He got away only to be run down, quite literally, twice more before being pinned under the vehicle, it rising up and down with his laboured breathing. The station manager hopped out and went round to his back end and was trying to castrate the bull with a pocket knife it turned out. Luckily for the bull it wasn’t sharp enough and there was no other nut removing equipment in the buggy. Eventually he was let out from under the buggy with no harm done plus retaining his knackers and ran off into thicker scrub ultimately getting away. Next year sonny, next year!
Other than a lot of really rough driving through dry creek beds and scrub no more close encounters of this kind were had. Not by this buggy anyway. Several punctures occurred and were fixed in the field with spares and the front brake lines ripped out and sealed off by a pair of grips. It’s rough out there.
On several occasions the chopper pilot requested a face to face to plan the next mustering area. A flat piece of clear ground was found and a tete a tete had to come up with a new game plan. Up she went, off the buggies went and it all started again, all day, no breaks.
By mid to late afternoon three mobs had been rounded up, consolidated and moved through to the ‘main’ road back to the holding yard at the old homestead some 20km away. Buggies were assigned and cattle escorted slowly and calmly as possible. Breakouts periodically occurring and being quelled. Our fear was a Grey Nomad campervan would come flying round the corner in a cloud of dust and clattering rocks and spook the cattle but fortunately this didn’t occur. Testament to the remoteness of the place.
Finally all mobs were pushed back to the holding yards and the gates closed. It was estimated we had rounded up about 200 head of cattle with some pretty good, valuable bulls amongst them. Destined for market within the next few days after being sorted then trucked out by roadtrain. At $1400 a head the numbers soon add up on a 7000-9000 head station.
Early evening and time to head back to the homestead – we’d been at it for 12 hours. I had a quick word with the chopper pilot and she agreed I could ride with her back to the station because I wasn’t too heavy!! The joys of being light!
Today will be a hard act to follow for a long time I suspect.
The Big BBQ