During the gold rush period pre 1900 reports have it that many prospectors specked gold in large quantities, 10 – 15 ounces a day whilst travelling from one gold field to the next and there are still sun bakers as we call them to be found but are small and generally picked up by detecting them.
Finding new alluvial ground is difficult and the prospector needs to push further out east and north into pretty harsh waterless country so the average jo blo from the eastern states is not the right person for this country and many who tried have found themselves in serious trouble with break downs or getting lost and in some cases resulting in death.
The bushies, Rod, Larry and Jake have spent many years in the goldfields as prospectors, dry blowers or pushing country and live there year round regardless of the extreme conditions and have developed a healthy respect for the country that can so easily have you in serious trouble.
Having discussed all the potential hazards the boys were finally getting down to a solid plan of attack and just waiting on the cooler weather which should be only weeks away. Once the temperature is down to 34 during the day then the going becomes easy, over that puts stress on everybody and the vehicles.
Wiluna was the departure point to the so called badlands or desert and sand dunes country. The shifting sands were the object of the exercise revealing new country as they moved slowly by the prevailing south westerly winds.
There are a number of large gold mines in the desert, open cut and deep down into gold bearing rock but generally over this on the surface alluvial gold can be found, and that’s what the boys were after.
With a Toyota Landcruiser each and quad bikes loaded and extra water fuel and beer stacked wherever space was available the boys set out on a station track due east of Wiluna to some breakaway country which was a fault line running north west to south east. This country is always worth detecting but can be difficult to cross and sometimes many k’s have to be covered to get around the face and back onto the line east to the sand dune country. The boys camped below the escarpment and put in two solid days working the western side of the breakaway. Signs of previous prospectors work could be seen by dig holes which led to gold being found but mostly small nuggets below 3 or 4 grammes. It was a good start and the boys reckoned the small finds would cover the beer costs for the trip if nothing else.
Recent storms had filled 4 substantial gnamma holes found along the top of the breakaway and camel camps were seen close by in the mulga with pads leading to the east. The dingoes had been about as well leaving tracks along dry creek beds but none were seen as is mostly the case in this country however, at night we could hear them howling and sounded close by as you laid in the swag by the fire at night. Jakes red healer dog replied to the howls with some ferrousish barking making sure the camp remained safe during the night.
Having worked the area pretty well the boys decided to push on east to see what the country offered further out. This is real desert country, plenty of mulga and snakewood growing on the hardest ironstone ground and desert oaks growing in the lighter soils where runoff occurs after storms. The olive coloured follage unique to this harsh environment is broken only by the soft light green follage of the emu bush or desert currajong. If you stand beside such a tree with your left hand on the rough side and right on the smooth side then you should be facing north, a bush compass so to speak.
We started to cross small sand dunes and between them rubble of quartz and ion stone which there is plenty of through the gold fields but that mixture on its own generally doesn’t mean gold. We were after a similar mix that came off old hills or ridges which now maybe only a few feet high and weathered down over the period from the last ice age with the receding water shifting gold to points near where the ridges formed small gullies as traps for rocks and gold washed by faster flowing water, sometimes these areas can be over a kilometre from the barley decreeable hill or ridge so it takes some imagination to piece all this together and still not find gold.
We headed to some higher ground a few k’s to the south of our easterly line and looked forward to what mix of rocks we would find, the sand dunes we travelled between were petering out as we approached the small line of hills or higher ground. It looked good, a laterite ridge with ion stone and quarts blows running to the west so a camp was made and the quad biked unloaded so we could work the rather large area.
Rod was what we call the “hill man” of the camp, he liked to work the hardest sections where few people go and found many nuggets on top of hills that stayed put during the weathering process rather than shedding down a slope. He also had many good finds between to peaks in what we call the saddle. The challenges of finding gold can put you under pressure and the scale of the area and the many possibilities of where the run would start or get to is endless as you try and piece together in your mind what occurred millions of years ago.
Some prospectors just strap the gear on and head off without a plan and hope they walk over one but at the end of the day his report cannot declare that the area worked is free of gold. There really needs to be a plan of the most likely areas and then start a loose grid of the slope of ridge covering probably 30% of the area. If gold is found then that area is worked slowly and carefully until the run has been finished. What we call the prickly gold with small sharp points indicates the gold hasn’t moved far from the original shedding whereas the gold with a smoothe surface is water worn and shifted a considerable distance so in that case working the areas below and above can yield more nuggets.
The results for the day by all had been good with over an ounce coming in between the three so it looked like the camp would be permanent for at least a week as the slopes were chained so as not to miss any ground and once worked a clear sign remaining so no further work was needed. The week resulted with 7 ounces, the boys were was happy but reckoned they would have found bigger gold as he largest piece weighed in at 20 grammes.
Back on the move further east looking for signs of a change in the terrain took a day without any result so an over night camp and back behind the wheel again the following day through some pretty tough country of mulga and spinafex. Finally some higher ground appeared north of our line so we headed that way but soon came to steep banked creek beds we were unable to cross. This diversion took up the balance of the day but we finally arrived and made camp on the ironstone flat west of the ridge.
This country looked pretty good and a huge area to work so the quad bikes were unloaded and a more permanent camp set up. Next morning the boys headed off in 3 separate directions with plenty of water and tucker on board in case of a breakdown. Sat phones are standard for safety as well as a GPS and a PLB, personal locator beacon. Nobody wants to use these safety devises but they are standard equipment especially in remote areas.
The boys returned during the afternoon and soon had a cold beer out and a fire going with enough coals to cook a roast in the camp oven. Everybody found gold but Jake topped the leader board with 1.45 ounces, altogether they found 2.5 so a pretty good days work and hopefully more to come. There was plenty of optimistic talk about the fire that night and they headed off to their swags early ready for plenty of hard work the following day.
This ground was right on the edge of the sand dune country which could be seen from the ridge stretching out east to the horizon, not a road or track for probably 1000 k’s in that direction and probably no water apart from the odd gnamma hole.
During the next four days they all found gold but it was getting harder and they decided to work closer to camp and move on if no gold was found. About eleven in the morning Larry let out a woop and a cooee to call the boys over. He just found a big slug, looked to be about four ounces and he had dug a fair size hole and there were still signals coming from the hole. The other boys grabbed a bar and shovel from the camp and they all agreed to share whatever came out but not counting the four ouncer.
They took turns on the bar and shovel and spread the dirt out nearby so it could be detected and the gold kept coming. These are called glory holes and every now and again you hear of people finding them so it’s always worth while checking the hole gold came out of incase there is more. They threw the gold into a panning dish and kept digging and the gold kept coming. Three times the hole was widened so the work could continue down as the ground was hard as hell and plenty of big quarts rocks to pick up and lift out After 4 hours hard work the gold cut out so the boys had a weigh up and they cracked just over ninteen ounces. The beers tasted pretty good that night and talk of gold went on late into the evening.
Next morning they reckoned the trip was over and decided to head back to the breakaway country south east of Laverton closer to civilisation and would then draw straws for one of them to head to Kalgoorlie and sell the gold. Another successful trip and there would soon be plans talked about where to head next.
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For most people a desert bush view would appear as mass of trees with practically no ground cover apart from iron stone and quarts rocks and no visible life but if you look more closely another world appears.
Millions of ants of every size and description some always ready to attack where as others are happy to share their environment, also spiders living in trees or under rocks come in a huge range of colours and shapes but don’t appear to be aggressive in any way but I’m sure could give you some anxious moments if they decided to bite.
The trees tell a story on their own and grow according to soil types and moisture availability, the desert Oaks love the gullies where as the Snakewood and Mulga grow in the harshest conditions. Sandlewood appears all over the place and requires a host tree to feed from by tapping the adopted trees roots underground. The Eucalyptus trees thrive where excess moisture runs to the bottom of gullies and can take all the water they can get and flourish in this environment. Smaller plain looking woody bushes explode into colour during the winter after a fall of rain and changes the scenery dramatically, just like the bush has turned it’s Christmas lights on.
Rain is the key to all events and we have had three falls this year the last being several days ago so now the gnamma holes will be full and the larger animals like camels, dingos, roos, scrub cattle and bush horses will return but stay out of site apart from leaving tracks and dung to tell the story of their existence.
Reptiles come in all shapes and sizes and don’t appear to see us as danger as they continue on their way through the bush and the largest of them, the Bungarra will prowl about the camp as though they own it. Their favorite home is rabbit holes and you often see their heads poking out checking on who is passing by.
Snakes seem to keep out of site pretty well and there are a few you would keep well away from as one bite so far from help would end your days quickly. In a tree beside my camp a mouse had taken up residence and to help him through the winter I threw bread and other scraps on the ground. From time to time I checked on the mouse with a headlight shining through a small hole and one night to my surprise the mouse was gone and a snake had taken over so I reckoned that the mouse had become the winter food for the snake but checking several days later the snake had gone and the mouse was back. So much activity happening out of sight but interesting to be part of nevertheless.
There are a range of birds in size from massive eagles to tiny finches all happily living in the desert. Lots of parrots, small and large, budgies, owls, emus and hawks all seem to be getting a feed and surviving quite well in large numbers and thankfully very few feral cat tracks have be noticed in this area so birds and small animals should survive quite well.
There are also lots of bees about and they quickly move into camp where water is available but reqiure some training to have them water safely and not drown. We use a gold panning dish with rocks and a few twigs so the more adventurous bees can make an escape when they go in to fare. Once trained they stick with the one source of water even though there are others about the camp. They cart an amazing amount of water away each day and seem quite happy for us to refill their water hole and haven’t bitten anyone but land on your hands and clothing during the process as well as scooping them out of the water with your finger if they look like they can’t make the edge.
Graves are seen from time to time and reading the history of the goldfields it’s a wonder more haven’t been noticed although some mounds seen from time to time always present the question of whether somebody lies beneath. We will never know but I consider it certainly would be a pleasant place to be planted.
Until next time.
Steve and Sass
]]>The reality however when living in the bush on a permanent basis and working each day regardless of the weather conditions can be somewhat different. Having plenty of food in freezers and a supply chain for refills organised, sufficient capacity for holding water and other essentials in case the next town trip is delayed by rain throws up a few challengers the average weekend camper doesn’t generally come across. Most of the problems can be overcome with planing and if you have good food and plenty of it then the camp generally remains happy and content.
Quality camp cooked food is most important so every effort is made to keep a good variety of healthy meals coming forward on a regular basis throughout the week and leaving the light weight snack meals for the weekends.
In this camp the camp ovens rarely have time to cool and luckily we are surrounded by excellent burning wood for coals and select the snakewood and mulga leaving the oak and gum for others not so well informed. Having a good sized loader in camp makes collecting wood an easy task after the days work has finished and a few beers helps as well as we disappear into the bush on quad bikes to where old mulga stumps cut down many years ago by axe for fencing and shoring up mine shafts can be pushed out and loaded. A couple of loads gives us enough wood for a week unless some late nights occur when the odd visitor turns up and the fire is over stoked.
Everyone plays their part in food preparation cooking and cleaning up although our good friend Kiwi Steve is by far the most creative and regular cook in the camp and always keen to dig out a new recipe to try from the CWA cooking handbook.
Some of the regular meals being roasts of pork, beef or lamb, grilled steaks on the hot plate, potato and tuna bakes, roast lamb shanks with roast spuds, carrots and pumpkin, beef or lamb stews, corned beef, picked pork, lamb chops and even some snags from time to time. In addition to that are home made sausage rolls, bread rolls, apple turnovers, date loaf, and brownies. As the birthdays occur Steve makes the effort and turns out a triple choc cake with loads of cream, a combination of ingredients that helps keep our sugar levels in order.
Camp oven cooking becomes an individual choice of the many ways to apply heat and end up with a cooked meal. Some like to use a stand so there is air space between the coals and the oven, others plonk the oven straight on top and insist that is the best way. Then some apply coals on the lid from the outset, some half way through and others never put coals on top, so many choices with the end result being the same, a cooked meal. For damper and bread the old method was to dig a hole, lace it with coals, place the oven inside and put more coals on top the cover with soil. I haven’t seen that done since the stock camps in the NT back in the late 60’s, but it worked.
There is no doubt the evenings about the fire having a beer and smelling a roast cooking is hard to beat. The down side to this wonderful life style is the cost of living as anything purchased locally has a freight component added, fuel for example no matter which type is purchased all costs $170/ L. Meat prices are staggeringly high and we often talk about getting roo to offset and reduce our overall meat costs. They do sell roo tails in town but they range from $18- $26 each so killing and dressing our own is the better option. Camel is also worth considering but the quantity to store without wastage becomes a problem so I continue to buy in town at the best price available and the boys have the majority of their bulk meat delivered from Perth at a fare better price.
The local price for fruit and veg is up there as well and raises a few eyebrows of the visiting prospectors on shopping days. Town visits for supplies are controlled as to when the delivery truck arrives, I tried shopping on a Tuesday and found the shelves and freezers almost empty and not one loaf of bread in town so Fridays is safe as the truck generally arrives Thursday and the shelves re stocked by about 11am the following day.
The bush tracks into town could be rated as poor to bloody wicked and from our direction south east of Laverton the bitumen starts in the back streets of town. The standard 5k’s or graded road on the edge of town is good but from there on it’s a nightmare. Open creek crossings are down to 1st or 2nd gear and there are over 40 between our camp and town. The last 10k’s is a station bush track via old broken down bores and if rain falls then all trips are cancelled until the track dries out.
The few downsides to life out here are accepted as part of the deal, living and making a dollar out in the mulga is a wonderful lifestyle which I wouldn’t swap readily and I won’t mention the heat, dust and flies or the freezing desert nights.
Until next time.
Steve and Sass
]]>The bitumen roads, fast foods, internet, restaurants, electricity for lighting and hot water and huge food stores are envied by those in bush camps a thousand kilometers or more away from the bright lights.
The weather extremes are accepted, freezing cold winters and blistering heat in the summer are dealt with by fire or a twelve volt fan, life under canvas certainly has its moments.
Recently I joined some mates dry blowing for fine gold south east of Wiluna in the desert country of WA.
Our neighbors, camels, dingoes and roos make their way down steep slopes of an old mine site to water each evening as any surface water dried up months ago and station bores and wells fell into disrepair many years before as people walked off their land no longer able to make a living in such an arid environment.
Since gold was first discovered in Australia it has lured many people far into the outback to strike it rich, unfortunately few returned with gold and many of those who did soon spent their hard earned on grog, girls and high living.
Today the big companies dig massive open cut mines to retrieve up to 3 gms/ tonne and rely on 24 hour work schedules 365 days a year to make the big bucks.
The scale of mining then drops considerable to operators who do quite well with medium sized machinery and plant to extract gold from dirt with wet plants, dry-blowers or sluces. The water operated plants are limited due to the lack of water available in most of the WA goldfields and the mining methods above have high overheads which puts enormous pressure on the operator to win gold to stay in business.
The next level in mining is what’s called pushing, operators use loaders to push off 30 cm of dirt from selected ground which has proved to be alluvial and then use detectors to find the gold exposed at the new lower level. The depth can then be lowered again and again until the gold runs out then the area is rehabbed.
Finally, the lowest level and cheapest method by far is the prospector who selects areas to hunt for gold using a metal detector. At the end of his day walking about the bush he may have found 1 gram of gold and at today's price that is about $50. If he was lucky enough to find an ounce then his pay for the day is over $1700, not bad if luck is going your way and the only overheads are living expenses.
Where one can actually legally search for gold is controlled by leases which are owned by companies or individuals and managed by the Mines Department to whom rent is paid on an annual basis or for the term of the lease. Some ground is what they call a pending lease, that’s is ground that has not been taken up by anyone and is available for prospectors to enter and search for gold. Permission to enter active mining leases can be gained by approaching the lease holders and getting written permission to be on their land for specified times or by securing what they call a 40E which allows you to be on certain ground once successfully applied for.
There a lots of complicated rules re the above and a steep learning curve for the newcomer prospector however, detailed information is available from the Mines Department.
Probably the hardest part of the exercise once the prospector has decided on a pending lease to work is finding it. The lease may have irregular boundaries and up to eight co-ordinates to find in a sea of mulga covering thousands of square kilometers and over a thousand k’s from the bright lights of home.
These points can be found using a GPS which also becomes very handy finding you way back to camp and those without them soon make the national news as missing prospectors some of whom have never been found.
It’s been a happy camp out here in the mulga, the dry blowing has been successful and likewise my prospecting.
Until next time.
Steve and Sass.
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This is an amazing spot to visit as the trip out into such isolated regions doesn’t prepare you for the impact the views this Gorge has to offer.
Carawine Gorge is the head waters of the Oakover River which runs for two hundred k”s there a bouts and then becomes the De Grey River.
This year recent winter rain falls had the surrounding country looking its best for many years and plenty of deep pools along the river for livestock to water at.
As you reach the edge of the desert country the harshness of the rugged Marble Bar and Nullagine region disappears and is replaced by the softer sandy loam country with less spinifex and far more trees, much easier on the eye and far better cattle country.
The flat top ranges are a feature rising from the flatter country and have far more appeal than the green stone ranges further west.
The sandy track into the gorge was easy travelling but four wheel drive had to be engaged to cross the deep stony bed of the river and suddenly the views that were hard to imagine appear. I believe the contrast from the harshness of the surrounding plains to the water views and sheer cliffs with plenty of wild life make the impact even greater.
There were quite visitors with their camps set up along the waters edge and during the evening their cooking fires added to the relaxed atmosphere.
Another ten K’s further along the river is Upper Carawine Gorge. The track in turned out to be quite a challenge as it crossed many rocky creeks and at times followed the creek beds with rises in and out that were very steep and tested the Landcruiser as an all terrain vehicle.
My thoughts were that no one else would be camped here but there were, quite a few in fact and more arrived during the next couple of days. No caravans of course but a few sturdy camper trailers were put to the test and one fellow hadn’t engaged four wheel drive to cross the river and had to get out in waist deep water to put the hubs in then continue on his way.
For those who like to get further outback away from the van parks and enjoy the solitude of the the bush and throw a line in the visit Carawine Gorge, it’s well worth the drive.
Until next time.
Steve and Sass.
]]>I arrived at Marble Bar a week prior to the races to find some gold and help pay for the trip, it was quite different country from the southern goldfields but I still managed to find gold close by town on leases held by the the town for prospectors travelling through the region.
The service station which is also the general store, the grocery store and the Post Office is opposite the Iron Clad Hotel and these two buildings pretty well make up what could be called the CBD of Marble Bar.
The Mines Department, the Police Station and a coffee shop are situated nearby in a heritage listed stone building and a few streets away the flashiest public toilets you could imagine that plays music and operates more like a space ship is the spot all travelers visit in Marble Bar.
I headed out to the races a day early to find a camp and was surprised to see so many already there set up for the weekend. Visitors continued to arrive all afternoon and during the night then next morning hundreds more so the camp areas were full and late arrivals found camps further into the spinifex beyond the graded areas.
Visitors from all over Australia along with local station people and miners from Newman, Portheadland and Nullagine were primed up ready for a big weekend. Their camps varied considerably from swags rolled on the ground to every possible camper trailer version to small vans and then those who like to have the flashiest caravans and tow vehicles available soon joined parties around fires and got the weekend off to a flying start with plenty of grog to loosen up with.
Race day arrived and the girls found their special race outfits including high heels whereas the males dress code looked far more relaxing although some must have been given instruction that shorts and thongs were not in order for this occasion.
A huge line up for bar tickets and then another for the bar lasted until their the third race when finally the the punters initial thirst was quenched. The betting ring was full with money money changing hands between punters and bookmakers and the food stalls were flat out as two thousand people all tried to do the same thing at the same time.
Good racing, with plenty of grog and food ensured the outback event was a roaring success and the evening entertainment of a two-up ring, a band and the bar kept the public busy well into the night.
If you enjoy getting away from it all then the Marble Bar Races is a great spot to start and the region has plenty more interesting places to visit.
Until next time.
Steve and Sass.
]]>The first event on the Western Australian run was a rodeo and camp draft at Halls Creek. This small town is situated 380 k's south of Kununurra on the Great Northern Highway, real Kimberley country and a pretty staunch mob reside out this way and they have to be, it's a long way from anywhere so are somewhat isolated, they just get on with life the way they know best. We were given a warm welcome on arrival and told that if we needed assistance in any way then just give them a call. That's how it happens in the outback. Down south they don't even say hello, instead its, you can't park there, tie your dog up and make sure your leads are tagged or we will cut the ends off. Bush rodeos and camp drafts generally don't attract many traders and here, apart from my set up there was Steve and Bernise Arney from Circle B and Neil and Roz Bryce with Rozbys Gear with their gooseneck display trailer. Even though we compete for the same available dollar at an event like this we are still pretty good mates and enjoy a few cold beers together at the end of a days trading.
A big weekend for the kids. L to R, Bernise Arney, Steve Arney and client. Happy shoppers at Packsaddle Leather Co. Ringers from the top end.
Competitor and spectator camps were set up all over the flat out behind the yards, they started arriving Thursday with the last of them leaving the following Monday. These Kimberley blokes really know how to enjoy a weekend away from the station. This is also a special weekend for the people from the communities, especially the kids. Their parents and relations make sure they are decked out with new boots, shirts, jeans and a cowboy hat. Those riding in the junior events may also get a vest, helmet, spurs and chaps. This year yard whips or boys whips were very popular, so much so in fact we all sold out on the second day. The boys gave them a nice old workout then kept Bernise and I busy making crackers for them, especially on the last day of the rodeo. In my mind, the feature event on the second day was the bareback draft, this really showed off the skills of the Kimberly stockman. The pictures demonstrate this showing riders with good kind hands and the horses responding being better balanced and enjoying their work. Maybe a lot more schooling should be done this way. Line up for the bare back draft.
Watching the events throughout the weekend it was obvious the skills of the young ringers over this way are up there with the best. Apparently they spend more time on horses in the stock camps than those further east and their tutors being the station owners, contractors and head stockman are passing on sound Kimberly stock husbandry skills are doing a pretty good job with these young people. The last day and a half was dedicated to rodeo and I'm sure half the people in the Kimberly s turned up, a huge crowd who supported the riders and pick up teams with applause and plenty of vocal encouragement from vantage points all around the ground on rails, deck chairs, tail gates and car roof tops. Looking good here.
It was time to hit the road again leaving the cold dusty Brunette racetrack behind and looking forward to the park like show grounds of Alice Springs. It was a 680 k drive and I was travelling with Steve Arney from Circle B so we didn't rush off and planned to camp at the old Barrow Creek race course, get a fire going and have a few quiet beers then enjoy an easy mornings drive into Alice next day. This was a very pleasant change from the last five days on the Barkly. With the Alice show a week and a half away I had plenty of time to catch up much needed repairs and maintenance to the truck and gooseneck. Firstly I had to buy a new fridge as the old past away over a week ago and I had to store my beer in Steve Arney s fridge, very thoughtful of him but a dangerous move accepting as he drinks two to one of mine. The fridge arrived and I screwed it into position so it wouldn't fall all over the place whilst travelling on rough roads. Next morning I found the fridge had stopped, one of the screws had punctured a line so I called the repair man who was keen to do the job and said that if I dropped it off I could pick it up in three weeks time but no sooner. By that time I'd be 2000 k's away so I had no other option but to head off and buy another fridge. This time I was very careful where I placed the screws in the framework. Another job was to replace the deep cycle batteries and increase the number to four as well fit four 192 watt solar panels to the roof of the gooseneck.Now I can stay anywhere in the bush and generate more than enough power to run all my household appliances.
The winter in central Australia can be very cold and this year was no exception, the nights reached -6 degrees and the days barely making 16 with an icy cold wind blowing the entire time. Not ideal conditions for sinking a few cold beers especially for a person suited to a 20-30 degree temperature range. Regardless, the Alice show was a ripper, record crowds arrived and my clients supported us buying all sorts of products including some of our new range of belts, pouches, jackets and cow hides. Kununurra was the next show, 1700 k's away and this time I travelled with Kate and Doug who between them manage the R.M.W Longhorn Express. Our first camp on the three day drive was near Helen Springs Station, a little sooner than expected due to the Longhorn Express blowing a tyre. By the time the tyre was replaced and a couple of coldies consumed we reckoned that was far enough for the day. The second night we made it to Victoria River, my favorite spot in the NT. By now of course we were enjoying the beautiful warm winter temps that ensure double pluggers and shorts are the order of the day. I pass through the Victoria River district three times a year and have a camp spot reserved away a bit from where the grey nomads pack in side by side.
The 102 year old tradition of a race meeting held on the vast open plains of the Barkly at Brunette Downs has just occurred.Arriving there on a fine sunny warm day without a breath of wind had me wondering if the winter Barkly weather had changed. These perfect conditions didn't last long and as we opened for business on day one the dust was being whipped up by a bitterly cold wind blowing at its best, it starts just on sunrise and blows everything inside out until five in the evening, then eases off for the night. Regardless, a good crowd rolled up to enjoy the four action packed days of racing, rodeo, camp-drafting, the bar and the battle of the Barkly and despite the adverse conditions a clear blue sky prevails the entire time.
Plenty of action as the sun rises.
The stations from near and far rolled in with semis, goosenecks and road trains to take up their camps which were established many years ago. The new mob to many of these backcountry events are the grey nomads and they found their designated camp area and lined up neatly side by side in a very orderly fashion, just like the houses in a city suburb. On the other hand the station camps are dotted all over the flat a good distance apart and look exactly how you would expect a temporary station camp to look with roofing iron wind breaks and longdrop dunnies here and there.
Ringers from the Top End.
Boys from Borroloola. Bull riders.
The station staff or ringers,many of whom come from the cities down south find their way up to the northern stations to gain some experience in the stock camps. Those with a farming background fit into the routine quickly and within a few years find themselves in junior management roles. The male to female ratio seems to be running at 50 percent and it was obvious after watching some of the girls camp-drafting that they have taken to station life pretty well. Quite a few parents of these young ringers travelled up for the occasion, Paul Porter being one of them and also worked for me as a Jackeroo on Jemalong Station 30 years ago. It was good to catch up with him and even better, his daughter won the female section of the Battle of the Barkly. The competitors are auctioned prior to the event and Paul placed the highest bid buying his daughter for $600. This rather attractive and capable young lady went on to win the event and Paul walked away with $2000. Paul and his three daughters own a station down south near Hay and have battled long droughts, the demise of the wool industry but stuck it out through the hard times and bounced out the other end winners, but not with out a few nasty scars.
Early start in the draft.
Warming up the string before the draft.
Saddling up.
My set up at Brunette.
The racing was as keen as ever, horses are paddocked for a period of six weeks on Brunette then ten days before race day the trainers put their horses into work and on feed to pump them for the event. The stirrup leather length used by the hoops indicates which horses are still a bit girthy, those with their knees around their ears have pretty good mounts and would look the part at the flash race tracks in the city. Standing starts are the order of the day so the better educated horses have the advantage over those who do a lap around the flat then join the line up side passing the starter. By cup day the money flows and punters back their pick for the main races then retire to the bar to celebrate or commiserate the results.
Station camps
This years event was pretty much poo-bah free, back to basics really compared to the 100th two years ago where they flocked in by plane and flash 4WD's, stayed for the cup, attended the dinner then next morning early made a hasty retreat from the dust and grime to wherever they came from. Before the races got underway this year Steve Arney from Circle B gave me a hand to cut enough wood to see us through the chilly evenings whilst we sank a few gold cans after a hard days work. The Brunette Races are an annual event so make your plans to fit this unique outback experience in with a trip to the far north, see you there next year. Until then. Steve and Sass
]]>Having finished the shows along the Great Dividing Range and moved further west I feel more relaxed knowing there will be few hills of any consequence until I return via Qld, NT and WA to Stanthorpe next January. Back out on the Western Plains not only the landscape changes but more noticeable the people, they seem to be more relaxed sorts of characters and regardless of being townsfolk or from stations they are keen to have a yarn and tell their story.
Betty Bunyan is one of those people.
I met Betty last year and again this year at the Dirranbandi show/rodeo and camp draft. She lives at the Ridge but the Dirran show is one event she rarely misses and is always dressed for the occasion. Whilst chatting to her this year another elderly lady stopped and joined the conversation. She said she remembers quite clearly the day Betty was born. She was seven years old and playing in the front yard when Mr Bunyan came past their home with his horse team and stopped to tell them, he just had a baby girl born and called her Betty. I worked that out to be around 1930.
For the first thirty years Betty lived in bush camps with her father and home was where ever the work was, be it delving bore drains, sinking dams or carting wool to the railhead by wagon. After a short unhappy marriage Betty moved on and began managing stations futher out west. Finally after many years she moved to Lightning Ridge where she still lives today. Betty is one of those wonderful characters you meet out this way and could be genuinely be described as, a women of the west.
After Dirranbandi I headed for Nindigully to cool my heels for a few days prior to the next show.Established in 1864 this place is steeped in History any many pics you see adorn the walls of this grand old pub. It's a free camp spot on the Moonie River however, at 4.30 sharp each afternoon a chap emerges from the hotel ringing a huge bell and bellows, HAPPY HOUR. People from the river bank camps obey the call and make their way across the flat to the pub for cool drinks and to listen to the live entertainment which is part of the deal. This is where the free site fees are paid by way of trading volumes of alcohol.
My closest camp neighbour was an older bloke with a very long grey beard.His name was Pete, he'd been a chippy in NZ for many years and in 2003 returned to bury his mum. As it happens, mum hung in there and is still alive today so Pete has been on the road ever since living off the land pretty much and enjoying the simple life. He explained that his slight limp and stiffness in his back resulted from several falls from scaffolding, one of which was over two stories down through a manhole flat on his back onto a rubble pile. No compo or work cover then of course, the same fall today would see him a millionaire.
At the bar one night Pete introduced me to a mate of his called Rowan Murphy. I liked this bloke right from the start; a good strong eye and a hand shake to match is always a fair indication the bloke has had a fair go at life regardless of his success. We yarned about all sorts of stuff that happens in the bush and among other things writing was one we had in common. The dust cover of his book was pinned on the notice board behind the bar so I purchased a copy and then slipped him a couple of books I'd read recently that I reckoned he'd enjoy and with that we parted company. Right now, I've got the drop on him as having read his book I know a fair bit about his life and the book proves he measures up in all departments and then some whereas Rowan will have to wait until mine goes to print, whenever that may be. The book is called "Dusty Paddocks", if you see it, buy it, a truly wonderful story about life in the bush packed full of interesting yarns and bush humour. Meanwhile, at the Ridge where I spent Easter, visitors were flocking into town and the van parks were bulging at the seams. I set up in the main street again on the vacant block between the Chemist and the Church.Many locals dropped in to welcome me back and fill me in on events as they happened through the year.
As I expected, floods gave them more grief than anything else and there were still families camped in town unable to reach their homesteads and many parts of their stations were still under water or roads cut so they couldn't check stock.
Circumstances as such are no longer newsworthy, only the towns are mentioned at the height of the flood whereas the people in the bush suffer for months on end and this was their third flood this past year. You may well say, oh, but they were given flood relief by the Government, but wait, there's a catch. Firstly, the money is only available for a short period of time. Then, one needs to photograph the damage and spend the money, if they have it. Then the invoice has to be sent with the application for flood relief money. Sadly, none of this can happen as they can't even reach their properties.
Looking towards the brighter side, they are happier with blue sky floods that arrive from up-country than drought but right now I reckon they could do with a dry spell.
The township of Lightning Ridge continues to thrive in its own way and they are proud of their achievements over the years.Before leaving this year I went on a tour bus run that my friend Peter operates. He is pretty handy with a whip and does a few repairs to saddlery and harness from time to time so we have a few things in common. Apart from that he's the genuine Australian larrikin and spinns a pretty good yarn for the tourists, all of which are true of course but the manner in which they are delivered is priceless. They are far to numerous to mention however, we did pull up on the track at one stage with a view to our left of a certain quantity of roofing iron, some vertical, some at other angles and with even a small amount of imagination you could tell this was a dwelling, they all look much the same. In the area outside the dwelling a vintage car was jacked up at various angles quietly rusting away.Peter announced, see that shadow under the car, well that's a red cattle dog who sleeps with one eye open and it has a pretty good reputation of keeping people away. Those who made it passed him on the odd occasion copped a hell of a mauling as they made their retreat and the bloke who owns this place is away a lot so the old red dog has done a bloody good job and had plenty of victories. After a few more gruesome stories of people being attacked one tourist finally said oh goodness, I wonder who owns this place. Peter said, I do.
To advertise that we were back in town I put together an A4 flyer and sent a thousand out via the Post Office to the locals, the stations up as far as Menindee and to those on the Anabranch. The support was terrific and the locals welcomed us back seeking assurance that we'd visit again the following year. Sharing a shop has unique benefits regarding work hours, mine were Monday, Wednesday and Friday and Kev worked Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday morning. Generally at shows we only work two days a week so the extra work load took some getting used too. On several occasions I felt a twinge of guilt knowing that the boys at our factory at Byron were punching out huge volumes of product and had been working extremely long hours for months and still had the order book full for January and February. I used to be part of that before I embarked on the "no fixed address tour" marketing our products Australia wide. So with time on my hands camped the banks of the Darling River I caught river life as it passed by through the lens of my camera.Makes you want to get out there on the river." From dawn to dusk, life of some sort was using the river either as habitat or for the simple pleasures of living, then, as the sunset the mozzies took over although they weren't as savage this year which was surprising given that the river had been in flood for so long. With a high river, houseboats were constant companions and willingly giving those land-locked a friendly wave as they cruised past. Fisherman, in their choise of tinnies were the early birds to the water each day setting off to their favorite spots to snare a yellow-belly or two. I think the dreaded carp took most of their bait but a few were successful in bagging a feed. Twice a week the rowing club practised their sprints and starts passed my camp, it was good to hear the familiar noise of the rollicks as they hit the catch. A much different noise came from the skiers in their powerful flash looking boats as they burbled along in the restricted 4 mile an hour zone on their way to the Murray where they cut loose with all the power they possessed. Evening riverboat party cruises were popular at this time of year and the punters far more jolly on their return after an hour or two of loosening their lips with ice cold tinnies and a variety of wines and spirits and of course a barby on the deck. The Darling River becomes a reality not far from Bourke as rivers such as the Barwon, the Bokkara, the Culgoa and the Bogan become one waterway, however, each of those rivers were in turn fed by so many other well known rivers in the Darling Basin. Down stream of Bourke more water hits the Darling from The Warrego and further still after passing Louth and Tilpa the Paroo River joins but its waters rarely reach this far but did so recently one of the few times in our history. From Wilcannia down to Menindee, then Pooncarie and finally to Wentworth the Darling River waters have flowed 1475 kilometres through remote station country to finally join the Murray. Plan a trip out this way sometime, it's wonderful country and the tiny towns I've mentioned along the Darling below Bourke are almost living history and you will meet some the the most interesting people there. Until next time. Steve and Sass
]]>It was four years ago now and I was happily playing in the yard at a Goondiwindi station with my brother and sister puppies (all red cattle dogs) when a ute pulled up at the homestead. The bloke from the ute chattered with the lady who owned the station then suddenly she grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and handed me to him, the bloke gave me a few pats then we jumped into his vehicle and off we went. This was the start of my new life with a fellow named Steve, a friendly sort of bloke who gave me plenty of food which I didn't even have to fight for. I soon had a collar fitted around my neck and a rope attached, this stopped me running around collecting stuff and digging holes everywhere. Steve decided to call me Sass, I liked that name,it sounded pretty flash. We went everywhere together and I soon realised it was my job to stay with Steve all the time and as well guard the ute when he disappeared into shops to pick up our food supplies. At this stage I was about three months old and had really sharp puppy teeth and needed to chew on things so when Steve left me in the ute alone I'd get to work and chew up anything laying about, especially phone chargers. The stormy looks directed my way when he returned were a bit frightening and the words far from friendly. When this happened I moved right over near the door in case all this ill feeling turned into something more aggressive and sit there quietly and put my best 'no body loves me look'. Steve would soon give me a pat and all would be well again. I worked out this is called 'man management', something to learn early in life if your going to survive. More rugby, greatLearning to 'stay there'Guarding the ute was fun and people passing by often stopped and looked in the window saying, look at the puppy, isn't she cute. Firstly I thought this was sort of nice but soon became sick of it so I'd pretend to be friendly and wait until they were really close to the window then suddenly launch an attack snapping and snarling showing them my sharp little teeth. The looks on their faces was priceless, silly grins vanished to be replaced by looks of shock and dismay as they hurried off, I loved doing that. Puppy days were pretty good fun but unfortunately the learning curve was fairly steep. Having realised I had to stick around and not stroll off following all the wonderful ground smells I spent less time on the rope, or chain now as the ropes were to easy to chew through. When Steve said 'stay there' and then disappear I used to worry something would happen to him and I'd never be fed again. Trying to be patient sitting there watching the spot I saw him last without becoming distracted was difficult. The boundary at that stage seemed to be the ropes going from the ground to the tent fly. On one occasion to fill in time while he was away I chewed through a couple of ropes then suddenly the house fell over. Just then Steve came around the corner so I rushed out to meet him wagging my tail as hard as I could go. Then he saw the damage I'd caused, dear oh dear the look on his face and the bad language, and wicked remarks directed at me was too much so I headed for the ute and took cover behind the front wheel and peeped out. Soon the house was up again and the dark looks had softened slightly so I crawled over to him and nudged his leg with my nose looking up trying to catch his eye and putting on my best friendly grin. He looked down mumbling something about red pups and never ever again then finally everything was back to normal again.
Me taking Steve for a walk at Winton.Guess what's for dinner.The bigger they are the harder they fall. Life at this stage seemed to broken into three phases, the fun times playing with Steve and prowling along river banks together, blissful sleeps in the sun and thirdly the major stuff-ups, such as when I launched myself at a lady passing by and latched onto her sarong which became stuck in my teeth and caused all sorts of embarrassing moments for Steve trying to get me untangled from the screaming semi-naked person. Another time was when I left the camp and tracked Steve down through the park to a toilet block and snuck in the door only to be yelled and and threatened to be severely kicked by some old codger but I couldn't get out because the door had clicked shut. Luckily Steve appeared from the shower coming to my defence telling the old bloke that if he kicked the pup he would get a thorough kicking as well. Next thing Steve slipped his fingers beneath my collar and I was marched home to the camp with my back legs peddling but only getting a toe hold every couple of yards, then on the chain I went with severe threats regarding my life if I didn't stay at the camp when told to.
Me, showing off down near the big smoke.Me and Steve, Melbourne Cup day WA.More cattle work today. I remember one day I was nearly put in the nick, it all started after a long road trip and Steve pulled up in town outside the store with the big W to gather more food. As always, the doors weren't locked and the windows were left down and I was in charge. The trouble was that I was busting for a wee so I hoped out the window and found a nice spot then went back to jump in again but I couldn't leap high enough and each time fell down flat on my back. I thought, I could be in a spot of bother here, I can't get back in the ute to guard it so I'd better find Steve so he knows I'm not doing my job. I took off and crossed the road and was tooted and yelled at by cars going way to fast but made it to the front doors. Looking through the doors I could see the building was huge with row after row of yummy food stacked from the floor to the ceiling. I had no idea where to go so I followed the best smelling lane where the meat and the bones were stacked on shelf after shelf just waiting to be eaten. Lots of people were pointing at me and laughing saying, look at the dog. I searched for Steve everywhere and turned down the second lane but there was no sign of him. By now everybody had stopped shopping and I was the main attraction then two people dressed in blue started to chase me. I legged it as fast as I could down the next lane running smack bang into a lady with a pram who started to scream. I looked ahead and one of the blue people was blocking my path but I easily swerved past them and turned down the next lane but loosing it on the corner and skidded straight into a stack of tins that fell on me and all over the place. This was getting pretty scary and for Gods sake I thought where the hell was Steve hiding. The blue people made another grab at me and some of the children had joined the chase as well. This was getting really dangerous and as I turned the last corner people were blocking my way but there was a small gap next to where the butter was kept so I dived through there and went flat strap towards the front of the shop. I put my claws out for extra grip to take the corner and lost it skidding straight into a pile of empty boxes. I couldn't work out why some people were laughing and having fun while others chased me down yelling abuse at me. Finally I made it to the doors and escaped, I shot over the road heading for the ute still going flat out and made an almighty leap at the window just managing to get my paws over the edge. I peddled like made with my back legs and finally made it. Safe at last as I looked back to see if they were still chasing me but they must have given up. Then I spotted Steve coming out of the door where the beer and wine was kept, hell, why didn't I look in there. Soon he was loading gear in the back and I was still panting after all the running about and he gave me a drink saying what a good little red dog I'd been. I put my best grin on and gave him a lick thinking, if he really knew what I'd been up to the friendly pat would have turned into a good scruffing.
Pretending to be a dingoMe, at Victoria River NT.Hey, look at me.Looking for possums. Life on the road attending shows was fun as we only worked two days a week, generally Friday and Saturday, the rest of the time we just played around until it was show time again. By now we were in the NT at Alice Springs, this is where I was attacked by a pack of dogs that suddenly appeared from a dry river bed called the Fink. The dogs looked really skinny and had patches of hair missing and torn ears, two of them had stumpy tails the same as my mother. They were the biggest mongrel looking dogs in Australia barking like mad and heading straight towards me so I bolted towards a big old river gum growing straight out from the bank of the river and ran up the trunk and turned to face them so I'd only have to fight one at a time. Luckily they stopped at the base and Steve came over laughing at me and yelling at the mongrels to shoot through, with lots of rude words mixed in of course. When the coast was clear I climbed down and we went back to our camp on the show ground which was close by the dog competition arena. The dogs hear are very posh and always have their hair done properly and are walked about on leads and even have their poo picked up in plastic bags. Steve said red cattle dogs from stations don't need that sort of special attention, especially the last bit.
This is what I do when Steve is workingChecking the dingo fence, Cameron Corner
Many of the town and district events I visit in the far outback are pretty much in house affairs whereas at Winton, a small western Queensland town is quite the opposite, it specializes in entertaining thousands of travelers most of whom come from the coast or nearby inside country. Winton is best known for three major events in history, firstly being the birth place of Quantas, secondly the place where our unofficial national anthem Waltzing Matilda was first recited and written of course by none other than "The Banjo" (A.B Patterson) whilst visiting Dagworth Station, and thirdly the Dinosaur stampede. This was discovered by a local station manager who first noticed strange marks in the soil which were later excavated and proved to be preserved tracks of Dinosaurs hunting some 95 million years ago.This is a huge draw card for visitors throughout the year who now play a big part in the towns survival. Once of course, the shearers would have been the main stay being traditionally a wool growing area where in such a town you would expect to find at least six to eight shearing contractors who in turn would each employ twenty or more men many of whome had families. The demise of the wool industry put many small country towns on the brink of disaster, barely surviving in fact and losing most facilities we take for granted. The number of old hotel buildings in a main street is a fair indication a town was once suported by a thriving wool industry. Winton still has four fabulous old pubs operating and Barcaldine, a similar sized town 280 k's east has six pubs and almost side by side.
Well mannered young ladies shopping at Packsaddle.Smoky skies.A web of channels forming the Western River skirts the southern end of town which eventually flows into the Diamantina River. From whichever direction you travel to Winton first you must spend several hours driving across vast open plains of mitchell and flinders grass dotted with small breaks of gidgee, boree and beefwood trees. I'm sure the visitors experience the real sense of being outback by the time they reach their destination. The locals on the other hand think the outback starts well west of Winton, in fact over 360 k's away somewhere out near Boulia.
Rental property. The Winton Outback Festival is well known and publicised and has been successfully run for many years now. There are so many challenging events to compete in during the week but without doubt the iron man event is recognised as the main feature. This is run in three sections, mens, ladies and kids and as well entries may be as individuals or as a team. The feature of this race is the swim leg held out at Long Waterhole which is two k's from town out the Jundah road. Competitors were faced with a swim/wade through a murky muddy watercourse, then up over an island and back through the slush to where the race started. I would have loved to taken pics of this event but having our leather goods on display meant I had to remain in town serving customers. The bike leg got under way in town and that was the last I saw of them however the run leg was held in the main drag and with temperatures reaching 38 degrees each day many red faces could be seen as they crossed the finish line.
The store shedClean up after the turd throwing comp.
There were so many events for the visitors to take part in and each of the four days saw the streets packed with competitors and spectators. Some of these were cow turd throwing, egg throwing and catching, broom tossing then whip cracking, bands, dunny races, tug of war, truck pulling, strong man events,street parades and so on, there seemed no end to it. All sorts of stalls and food vans lined the street and the pubs did a roaring trade well into the night.This is the ultimate family outback experience and for a small western town to pull together running the event so successfully ensured everybody felt that special bush hospitality.Percussion band. Having to operate my business as all these activities took place didn't give me the opportunity to cover the event as I would have liked and the time available to take pics was limited to pre dawn and dusk. The shots I missed such as the brolgas or native companions strutting down the street out side the Matilda Center as the huge red sun rose distorted by the smoky skies is one for the memory so unavailable to share. With so much smoke on the horizon and evening storm clouds gathering the most amazing skies resulted which were almost spooky.My shop in the main street was set up opposite some particularly clever work in the form of sculpture relating to the pride of the town being the famous verse of Waltzing Matilda.He camped and he watched and he waited till his billy boiledUp jumped the swagman and grabbed him with glee Down came a trooper mounted on his thoroughbredViews west at dusk.The buildings in town show their age with still most in use, the residents take pride in dressing their front yards with all sorts of interesting objects from the past or creations built from bits and pieces found locally. As you pass various locations you will notice dummies dressed as old timers placed on rooftops, in shop windows, up trees or tied to a fence, this helps create a special image unique to the Winton township.Armed with a Mrs Mac pepper steak pie and a carton of iced coffee Sass and I left the Heartbreak Hotel and headed south down across the vast open plains to camp the night at the Barkly Homestead. The previous extended wet season left this country in good shape with plenty of feed so the stock were in forward to fat condition. Even the odd few water holes that exist along the track remained full enough to hold a variety of birdlife that would normally moved on well before this. Eventually we arrived at the Barkly Homestead and I pulled in beside another gooseneck horse trailer where the bigger riggs camp.The bloke who owned the rig was keen for a yarn and being close to beer time it seemed like a good idea. As it turned out we both knew many of the same people from the bush from all over Australia but for some reason we'd never crossed paths. His name is Bob Holder from down around Cootamundra way, he's managed stations, been a drover,a horse breaker, a live stock dealer and is now a real-estate agent for Elders. Bob is probably best known as a rodeo competitor and has travelled far and wide across Australia attending these events.Even now at the age of 81 he has just competed at the Darwin Rodeo in the team roping event, a fantastic effort and a great Australian character as well. Bob slipped away to feed up and on his way back picked up a bag from a nearby hanger, inside we discovered a Jeppeson Airways manual; it covered a trip from London to Sydney via twenty other countries. Some weeks ago on his way to Darwin Bob stayed here and met a bloke in a wheel chair who had flown an Ultra Light plane from London on his way to Sydney to raise money for the Royal Flying Doctor Service. I still have the manual and have been trying to track him down but to this point, no luck.
On the BarklyWeaners on McArthur River StationAlroy DownsBack on the road again next day we headed east across the Barkly to Camooweal for the drovers festival. I was surprised to see so many dingoes prowling about, the report is that their numbers are now out of control over much of Australia and giving the station owners plenty of grief. If I ever give up marketing our leather goods I think I'll become a wild dog stiffener. Back in the days before the road trains Camooweal was the starting point where drovers assembled with their men and plant to wait on word via telegrame for orders from the big stations in the top end and the Kimberelys to pick up mobs that would then be walked over to Queensland many via the the famous Murranji track to Newcaste Waters, from there across the Barkly to Camooweal and down to Dajarra to the then new rail head or on down further south to the channel country or to the Birdsville track and on to Adelaide. The last of the boss drovers living today gather at Camooweal each year for a weekend where the public and guests can meet these men and listen to the stories of the epic journeys they made over the years. We all know the stories about droving have been romanticised in verse and song but I can assure you it was nothing other than a bloody tough and hard lonely life. Sleeping in a swag on the ground for months on end, eating boiled beef and damper seven days a week, riding from daylight till dusk then doing several hours at night riding night watch can hardly be described as an easy and romantic life style. Conditions were always tough, lack of feed and water for the cattle, long hot dry dusty periods or weeks of rain with flooded rivers to cross and worst of all when the mob rushed off camp sometime during the night were all part of the drovers life. With over a thousand head in hand the boss drovers life had few pleasures and a massive responsibility in delivering the entire mob in good condition.
Stock-routs of Australia.The drovers.The Murranji BullThe other activities during the weekend included bronco branding, country music, poetry renditions, an art exhibition of paintings drawings and photography, an evening ball, the Camooweal street parade and an evening at the local pub with entertainment. Our leather good were on display and Noel Giles the blacksmith from Mackay turned up with an impressive display of product he'd made on the forge. I think Gilesy could be better described as an artist, but one who uses a forge, anvil and hammer rather than a brush and canvas, a great bloke and extremely talented.
The blacksmith artistBlacksmiths creations.Birdsville PubGiles at work.
A few other blokes I caught up with were Ian Michaels, my old boss when I worked on Victoria River Downs and Stumpy Adams who was a ringer there at the same time. Scott Bloxsome, was of Australia's past rodeo champions called in and finally I met Ian McBean, a bloke I was meant to work for and wished I had. He has lived an extraordinary life in the top end, a wonderful character. Once again it was time to pack up and move on to the next event. I had 875 k's to knock over that day so I left before the sun rose heading south to Mount Isa, on to Dajarra, then to Boulia then Bedourie and finally drove into Birdsville as the sun was setting over the sand hills. Exceptional rains over the past three years have resulted in far west Queensland looking the best it has been at any point in time since the area was first discovered and again the stock tell the story. Lakes now stretch to the horizon where once scalded clay-pans existed and the wild life is everywhere. The Birdsville races are the focal point of the race round in the far west, the week prior being Betoota and the week after, Bedourie.To add further entertainment to a trip out this far Bouila put on camel races and Winton, an out back festival which I will attend. Although the dirt roads out here are well prepared prior to the onslaught of traffic they soon deteriorate as the would be bushys geared up with 4WD's and campers drive flat out passing everything in sight spraying stones and dust over those driving according to road conditions.Regardless, everyone enjoys the week at Birdsville as they wander from the pub to the retail displays, over the the museum and the bakery, then Brophys boxing tent and back to the pub then finally stagger back to their camps on the banks of the Diamantina River. Friday and Saturday sees the town much quieter as the mob moves out to the race track for more drinks and dust then of course back to the pub and the boxing to indulge in various forms of social interaction.Ringers from the top end
On the map Borroloola appears to be somewhat isolated sitting way up in the Gulf but it's only a 7 hour drive to Katherine or about 10 hours to Mount Isa. Most of the every day items required to stay alive can be purchased locally, the quality and choice may be laking especially in fruit and veg but you soon get used to that. The hard part is getting used to the prices they charge, especially for beer and the winter temperature sitting on 35 degrees tends to make one consume more beer than ever. Just north of Borroloola towards Bing Bong there is a turn of to the popular fishing retreat called the King Ash Bay Resort on the banks of the McAuthor River, another barra mecca that draws fisherman from the deep south each winter. Here you find areas reserved for fishing clubs as far away as Tennant Creek and Alice Springs and further along the river is a pub or club of sorts that serves ice cold beer to its members who sign up during their stay. It's also a meeting place where the days catch can grow longer and heavier by the hour.
Escaping the fire. Having a weekend spare prior the Camooweal Drovers Reunion I cut across from the Highway Inn on the Stuart Highway to Cape Crawford, better known as the Heartbreak Hotel then on up to Borroloola for their camp draft and rodeo. This is well supported by the locals of which ninety percent are Aboriginal. They pretty much own and run all the businesses in town. Also people from surrounding stations in the Gulf and from the Barkly load up their trucks, trailers and road trains and arrive for the three days of competition ensuring the weekend is a roaring success. I met people from Seven Emus Station, Brunette Downs, Walhallow and McAuthor River stations; although events in the top end are mostly a thousand k's apart many make the effort to attend and support each other.
Waiting for the poddy calf rideNote the black cockatoo featherRinger from the top end. The judge, Mick Ward was imported from around Dubbo to oversee the weekends events. I can remember Mick at camp drafts down south thirty years ago; he was one of the top drafters then and apparently still is. There was one event that didn't require a judge. This is where they tape $50 notes to a cows horns then cut her loose in the arena. Anybody between the age of eleven and twenty-one may enter and try their luck removing the notes as the cow gallops around. It's probably a bit on the dangerous side for the competitors and fortunately no one was badly injured and the money remained fixed so I think the cow won. To see something like this you need to find a road less travelled, target an isolated spot where people from the bush have gathered for a weekend of fun and join them, you'll never regret it or forget it.
Ben Halls outfitEvening skies in the gulfLocal stockmanThe Aboriginal community really look forward to their rodeo, extended families arrive and set up camp then the kids take off running and playing all over the place. Nearly all the kids are dressed as cowboys having no regard for what size boots they wore, those who didn't arrive with the full kit were soon decked out by Steve and Bernise Arney of Circle B; being their ninth year at this rodeo they knew exactly what stock was needed for the kids and adult competitors.
I asked the Mallapunyah kids where they came from and excitedly they announced, oh just down the road. Maybe not far to them but still 147 k's and not the best track on which to travel I can assure you.
Bare back final.
Stumpy Adams, an old territory mate turned up for the weekend, he competed at this rodeo back in the late 60's as a jockey and in buckjump events. Why I ever left the territory and chose to work on stations down south I'll never know. It's a decision I've regretted all my life and being back up here each year for the last four years makes me ask the question over and over again. Until next time my friends. Steve and Sass.
]]>The Northern Territory, our last frontier with deserts to tropical wetlands offers endless pleasures to those who visit here. Having moved on from the Daly my next venue was Harts Range race weekend 1365 k's south. Just short of Alice Springs I turned left down the Plenty Highway and an hour and a half later turned right down a sandy track to where the racecourse is nestled in beside the rugged foothills of Harts Range.
An old mate, Jock McPherson calls the race
The annual event held here is run by the surrounding stations and the last place you can witness unique bush sporting events run as they have been since its inception in 1936 and not a re-enactment by some try-hard that you see elsewhere. The P.A system is the only technology on hand; no phone or TV signals reach this area so people aren't preoccupied with private communications and the open friendliness between those gathered here is obvious, and blissfully refreshing. The owner of Ambalindum Station works hard on the microphone for two afternoons at the rodeo keeping the crowd entertained and events rolling along but as the sun rose an early start saw young mounted competitors out there competing to win money in the gymkhana. Lots of bush kids having a fantastic time at their own sporting weekend and the only one for the year. Unlike the Aboriginal kids who live in one area and have a school the station kids being so isolated do distance education so still see each other on screen each day and as well gather once a term for a school camp in Alice. The general run of schools have the opposite, a week long school camp somewhere in the bush. The Harts Range neighbourhood stretches 150 k's north, south, east and west and after chatting to the kids asking where they come from the next job is to look on the map to find where their station is situated. These little diggers are great to have a yarn with, such old heads on very young shoulders. Out here almost all the stations are family owned and run so many of these children will someday be the owners of stations well in excess of 500 square miles.
Station kids
Local girls view from the ridge.Very proud of her new red hat.Thirsty work. Entertainment in the closer settled areas is taken for granted, but out here a trip to town shopping is a two day affair once a month for the lady of the house whereas the men folk may not leave the station more than half a dozen times a year. Mick Jackson who runs a bullock depot down on the border country reckoned it was time for a break, he had a fourteen hour round trip to attend the races for a yarn and a drink with his mates. The last time I saw him was at the Isisford sheep show in western Queensland. Another bloke I hadn't seen since 1973 was Jock McPherson; he now owns a stock agents business in Alice and had sponsored events here at the races and was also the race commentator.It was a great pleasure to catch up with him after so many years and all that time ago we were young stock agents who spent far to much time at the local drinking and playing up. He has offered to include me on some of his station visits next year prior to the Alice show, that's something I'm really looking forward to.
Line up for the under 16 mile race.The feature bull.The clown rides a steer backwards.
Paintings at Emily Gap
Statue like.
My run up through Queensland is over with the last show which is always a good one at the Curry (Cloncurry) . The next show at Alice Springs, a mere 1300 k's away via Camooweal, Three ways, and Tennant Creek is where I finally feel some space and enjoy the uninterrupted views to the horizon. Winter in central Australia can be severe, this year temperatures drop to zero at night however the days were perfect, around 20 and a bit more at times. Having a week to myself I stopped at Gemtree for a few days and from there followed tracks through the ranges over to Arltunga. This is where gold was first discovered at a spot called Paddys Rock Holes, soon after, a rush started and men travelled over some of Australia's harshest country to peg their claim. So little surface water exists out here even after one of the best seasons in our history it amazes me they were able to complete the trip without perishing. As well, the rocky undulating ground surface must have been a nightmare to travel over. For the first ten years very little development took place and at the most there were 41 miners working the goldfields. Soon after, gold was discovered at nearby White Range. The SA Government installed a battery to crush the rock and it wasn't long before numbers on the fields passed 400. The Town of Arltunga was now established. Whatever items were needed on the goldfields came from Adelaide, firstly on rail to Oodnadatta and from there by camel or horse teams for a further 600 kilometers over unforgiving country that deteriorated the further north they travelled.
Paddys rock holes, Arltunga, where gold was first found.
Arltunga is now in a fenced reserve and looked after by Jim and Jan (not their actual names) who act as rangers protecting the historic site. Actually they had mine leases in the area and were soon to retire and asked to take the job on as Government rangers kept leaving the post due to the isolation factor. The pair do a wonderful job explaining and showing how gold was won to the many tourists that visit the area on day trips from Alice. An area is set aside for gold heads like me to try their luck detecting, unfortunately all I found was was small pieces of metal rubbish left over from the mining ventures all those years ago, but I'll be back to try again sometime down the track.
Mill near Arltunga
Bread cooking in the Bedourie oven
Looks good,,,tastes ?
Most of the stations around Alice Springs have been held by the same families for generations, unlike the top end where the majority are owned by companies. The cattle in the south of the N.T are predominately british bred, herefords and shorthorns and those in the north, brahmans. Generally the weaners are sent south to sale yards, feedlots or meat works rather than north to the live export trade and this year for the forth year a shorthorn beast won the hoof and hook competition at the Alice show.
South side of Harts Range NT
The pictures above display a different image of central Australia than most would have in mind and without the Mac Donnell Ranges in the background dominating the scenery and the plains country covered with an abundance of herbage so barely any red dirt is visible one could be easily convinced the shots were taken elsewhere and not east of Alice out towards the Simpson Desert. Until next time. Steve and Sass
]]>8 Year old going on 40.
The Queensland show run gets underway on the first of May at Goondiwindi, this is the most enjoyable time of the year as it takes me out in to western Qld and eventually up into the NT and just into WA After Goondiwindi I attend shows at Roma, Mitchell, Charleville and then further west to Isisford. This small town is situated on the banks of the Barcoo River which continues on south west and eventually joins Coopers Creek, then down through the channel country and finally the waters find their way into Lake Eyre. To give you some idea of this area the shire covers 10,500 square kilometres through which the Barcoo runs for 200 kilometres and the head count from stations and the town barely reaches the 300 mark. Out here it's a matter of quality, not quantity which becomes very obvious as I watch a handfull of locals prepare for their annual sheep show.
Bustard or Bush TurkeyThomas Mitchell discovered this area and soon after land was taken up by those who pushed further out seeking sound grazing country. The area rode on the sheeps back for many years as stations such as Isis Downs, Emmett Downs, Portland Downs,Ruthven and Albilbah continued holding females and increasing the size of their breeding flocks. Cattle now play a major role for the stations income stream and sheep numbers throughout Australia continue to decline.
Mitchell grass, boree and gidgee tree plainsEvening skies at Isisford
Today the Outer Barcoo is a peaceful place however,many savage droughts, floods followed by fires, shearers strikes, two world wars and established railways and tard roads along with the failing wool market have put the residents and their country to the test many times. Once a thriving town with resident shearers, teamsters, dam sinkers, local businesses and station staff of around 500 is now reduced to about 80 towns people. Tourists play a big role in keeping the little town alive as with many others throughout Australia. Fishing comps, gem and music festivals and shows continue to attract the nomads from the coast and cities to these far flung isolated areas. Few have any idea of the history of these places or what the local town and station people endure in their every day lives. The gap between city folk and the country has never been wider.
The reason I am able to take you on a story picture trip to various parts of the country is that the semi-retirement venture for the cove with no fixed address needs to be funded in some way. So, I have a full range of the leather luggage and accessories we manufacture at Byron Bay and also a range of handbags and wallets my partnerRay Kovac manufactures in Sydney. The "Australian made" situation is held strongly in the minds of country people, they too are producers of Australian made products and prefere to purchase goods made here. Originally I designed our products with country people and O/S visitors in mind, the O/S thing went okay for a while but we have really hit the mark in the bush. They like products that are well made, durable and useful.
The business was started during 1988, it had a few rocky moments as most start-ups do but eventually with the help my sons Ben and Jock it started to fly. We moved the factory from Forbes to Byron which was positive for the business and the boys but I must say after twenty years I'm glad to get out of the factory and away from Byron back into the bush dealing directly with the clientele who support us so well. Who better to judge us than those from the country and we thank them for there continuing support. Until next time. Steve and Sass
]]>Some of the best towns in Australia are a long way from the coast and well west of the great dividing range . They are generally on the smallish side but punch well above their weight when it comes to community activities. Dirranbandi for example had five cotton trucks with trailers parked one behind the other and their total length was longer than the town itself. What a great little village it is, by the time I purchased fuel at the servo, a toasted egg and bacon sambo and a cappuccino from two doors up then, crumbed cutlets from the butcher I new most of the locals and what everybody was up too. Three floods have passed through Dirranbandi in the last four months and they have one more on the way. Between the last two the town has managed to stage the annual show and camp-draft and a three day fishing comp , both being very successful events. The flood-out country looks fantastic although some of the red ridges nearby look like they could do with more rain. As you can imagine the cattle are in great shape and full of feed so most of them were camped in the shade by watering points, a very relaxing scene indeed.
Gill Brothers shift their travelling rodeo overnight from the Moree show to Dirran for their evenings entertainment. I snapped a pic of half a dozen young local cowboys stretching up in preparation for their poddy calf rides. Livestock, especially horses play a big part in shows like this. There are riding events, show jumping, led classes, poney club events, barrel and flag racing, rodeo as well as over a thousand runs in the camp-draft.
Dirranbandi
Boggabri muster[/caption] After the Dirranbandi experience I packed up and moved on down south through Hebel.There are only two comercial buildings here, the pub and the corner store. Hebel is on the Qld NSW border and walking distance from the banks of the Balonne River, a popular quiet shady spot to spend time fishing. I travelled on down through Walgett, Burren Junction, Wee Waa, Narrabri then on to Boggabri for a camp-draft as no other shows were on close by.
Boggabri is a bit of a backwater really as forty K's to the west is Narrabri on the Newell highway and forty K's to the east is Gunnedah on the Oxley highway. New coal mines in the area have played a big part in keeping the town alive and the young people employed , they also contributed most of the $25000 prize money for the draft that weekend.
Boggabri draft
With the draft over I retraced my steps back towards the Queensland border and turned off to Lightning Ridge for their Easter festival. Generally they have a days racing, a rodeo, goat races and two market days. This year a group of people from the city stopped the goat races and the rodeo being held on the grounds of cruelty to animals. How the minority groups have such a strong voice to achieve these outcomes has got me stuffed. Anyway I was allowed to set up in the main street between the chemist and the church right up against the footpath just like a shop so I opened up for business on the Tuesday and traded each day until the following Monday.
The Ridge is full of interesting characters from all over the world. Lots of european people have made this place home and have taken to life underground particularly well. Many have made their fortunes here so will never leave and big trips away amount to a drive to Dubbo for christmas shopping otherwise all they need is right there in Lightning Ridge. Visually,nothing much has changed here since my first visit in about 1974 except for the fortunes won and lost which would no doubt be many. I asked one miner who came to the Ridge in the eighties how the current opal market was baring up. He said those stones worth over $80000 and under $5000 haven't been effected to much but those in between have lost some of their value on the world market. Wow, fancy finding an opal worth over $80000, how good would that be?
Opal mines
Early in the week I had many visits from locals. Firstly, a retired drover who had endless yarns about his life on the road. Then a shearing contracter dropped by to see what I was up too. This fellow still pulls into gear to shear a few stragglers for his mates when his arthritis isn't too bad. A well known whip maker and saddler spent at least half an hour each day talking about leather and all sorts of things, this fellow was a real character. Quite a few old and retired opal gougers filled me in on some of the darker moments that eventuated from broken down mining partnerships in the Ridge. From what I gathered disputes were settled in all sorts of way privately and didn't involve police, lawyers or solicitors. This would have been one hell of a wild place to live some years ago.
Opal mines
There are others at the Ridge who have made their mark in different ways, John Murray for example, a brilliant artist who captures the mood of the backcountry like no other. His gallery is a popular tourist destination and unfortunately the man himself didn't appear and sales were handled by his staff. I would have liked to have met him as he is no doubt a very interesting character judging by the work he produces. Throughout town opals can be purchased from so many places its hard to imagine they can all survive. The more successful traders have taken the trouble to incorporate opals into a range of ornaments, rings, necklaces and other fine looking pieces that make superb gifts. It's the black opals with fiery splashes of vivid red and yellow colour that command the highest price. Three companies operate toures of the opal fields which include a visit to a walk in mine where one artistic miner having failed to find what he was after has carved statues, birds and animals into the walls underground and charges $30/ head entry fee. Life is driven by the almighty dollar and there are many ways of making your pile, this fellow has been very successful and his pile now is rather high.
The housing in and around the Ridge varies somewhat in quality. I checked out the real-estate listings and noticed property values range from $10000 to $450000. The $10000 property includes a single room shack and a mine, that sounds like real value for money. Quite a large range of properties fall in the forty to fifty thousand dollar bracket and include a home/shed style buildings that look as though were built during a long weekend while the boys drank several slabs of full strength beer. The full history of Lightning Ridge would make for some very interesting reading but I doubt anyone would be game enough to put a truthful version into print, what a pity.
Lightning Ridge is an outback town full of character and characters. It's easy to get there without travelling over hundreds of miles of dirt roads. Book in for next Easter, you'll love it. Until next time. Steve and Sass.
]]>Sass
Back on the road and having to tour over most of NSW dodging flood water and taking four days to get to my starting point which would normally have been an easy one days drive away wasn't the best start for another year on the show circuit. My wish is that there were sufficient events in the outback so I could stay well away from the inside country . I changed the routine from previous years to include a few drafts and to sneak up into QLD for the odd show. The new venues included Ashford on the Severn River, Walcha, Baradine, a quiet little village west of the Pilliga scrub, Dirranbandi, Boggabri draft and for Easter, Lightning Ridge. I was amazed that towns such as Toowoomba having suffered devastating floods had no apparent visual scars, even the locals played down the event. Our roads however, after severe flooding leave a lot to be desired. Prior to road work teams tackling the worst effected areas heavy traffic made some of the major highways almost impassable. The truckies talk on the radio kept most of us informed where the worst sections were and with their rather colourful explanations of how the Government should get its act together is certainly entertaining to say the least. I pity those listeners of the fairer sex copping some of the free to air radio discussions that some big hairy gravel voiced truck drivers choose at times. Thankfully it rarely happens and really the greater percentage of truckies are totally professional in every way and enormously helpful keeping the roads safe with the use of the radio.
Town UteSummer rain bath, Mendooran
A grey overcast day that showered on an off kept me close by the camp so when our feathered friends landed in a white cedar tree close by to bathe in rain I snapped a few shots as they ruffled their feathers turning inside out and up side down getting as wet as they possibly could. I've seen these characters in the city,on the beach at Byron bay and all over the far outback, they are teenage larrikins to say the least and this is the first time I've seen them cutting so many cappers bathing in the rain at the top of a tree. The Walcha community take enormous pride in their local show. It really is one of the best and the entire town attends as do all the property owners in the district. The main feature as far as the kids are concerned is the peanut drop. Some of the peanuts have been painted various colours some of which are worth quite a few dollars when handed into the secretaries office. Keen eyes are on the look out for these when the mad race commences but failing to find them still allows all involved to gather lots of peanuts to eat so everybody is happy, and special lucky few, extra happy.
The Glen Innes show and draft is where Jock and the boys from our factory at Byron head west for a few days in an attempt to dampen their raging thirsts and to also visit me briefly which was the reason for the trip, apart of course that old mate Keggsy, our main man is a G I local and needs to keep an eye on what the towns young ladies are up too from time to time. As always it's great to catch up with them all especially Sheddy, amazingly the boys are all from the bush and retain the ethics that bush people are so proud of, hence when the pressure comes on the boys hook in hard and never fail to get the job done maintaining the quality of workmanship thats the cornerstone of the leather products we manufacture.
After a hard year on the track followed by five weeks at Wentworth running the shop it was finally time for a break. I generally finish the year in WA and head for the goldfields however, this year, Tibooburra in north western NSW was the chosen spot to relax well away from the show circuit and also a place where gold has been found. The 636K trip which includes 250 K of dirt is a far less stressing drive than the equivalent on the east coast as prior to Broken Hill there is one very small road house called Coombah, then after, the Packsaddle roadhouse followed by Milparinka which is bypassed, then the point of destination, Tibooburra. This area is known as Corner Country with Cameron Corner situated 140 K's to the north west or by crow less than 100K's. Generally visitors pass through this area during winter heading further out to Innamincka or over to Lake Eyre and on up to Birdsville. They push their vehicles to the limit going way to fast causing unnecessary damage to dirt roads and rarely stopping to see what really exists in this pristine environment. Often people pass comments such as, there's nothing out here, and the country is so boring just red dirt and rocks, which is sad because if they stopped for a while they would find that the area is in fact full of large and small animal life and wonderful desert plants.
Not all travellers are like this and thankfully more and more are visiting the back country to enjoy it for what it is and what it has to offer. This year the desert has sprung to life having received in the last twelve months alone four times the yearly average rainfall. The red stony aspect which one normally sees out here has been transformed to a scene of green rolling hills and plains covered in dense natural herbage. After decades of drought and violent wind storms it's hard to believe that there would be any seeds left to germinate, quite the opposite in fact, there are now plants and grasses growing on some of the toughest shale country that the elder locals can't identify.
Tibooburra,like most other isolate towns in Australia has long term residents that were born and bred in the area as well as non core locals, a special breed of people who are drawn to such places and collectively they give the town its real charm and character . Without them of course, you only have a place name on a map. The mailman for instance, a local who previously had spent seventeen years working on the dog fence had plenty of yarns to spin especially about the doggers that worked north and south of the fence. Young Jake, a contract musterer, already a character as such a young age knows many stations in the corner country, in southern QLD and South Australia. Adrian, from Milparinka, forty K's south of Tibooburra is a handy man, a roo shooter and prospector and with his mate Mick are the towns only residents since the pub closed down. He reckons it will open again next year, I hope so, I really want to have a beer there next time I visit. Adrian supplies roo skins to my partner Ray Kovac in Sydney for making hand bags and wallets. Then there is Wattie, he works for the RTA and helps keep thousands of kilometres of dirt road graded and in good shape. The last twelve months being so wet gave the roads teams more than enough work especially clearing the endless creek crossings between Warri gate on the QLD border, down through Tibooburra and on to Broken Hill. There are two pubs in Tibooburra and in a small town of eighty people it's wise to have a drink at both but most evenings found me at the Family Hotel owned by the Tooles.
Not only does the licensees run the hotel but also assume responsibility advising travellers as to which roads are open and which areas are safe to visit given how well they are equipped. While I was there a two German couples sat out side the pub with a poorly detailed map planning a trip west through Cameron Corner, Innamincka, Marree, Ayers Rock, the Gun Barrel highway and on to Perth. They took some convincing that January was not the time to attempt such a trip and if they went ahead they could find themselves in serious trouble and would quite likely perish.
A creek crossing just out of Tibooburra.
The local school teacher has eleven pupils some of which are on Distance Education, some School of the Air and some on traditional face to face teaching. All the kids I met were the same as most kids from the bush, well mannered, interesting to talk to and polite and as normal 5 to 15 year olds going on 40. Quite a large number of families visit the pubs on a Saturday night for a meal and to confirm the latest gossip. One evening at the Family Hotel due after I'd left town was a beach party. They have several loads of sand delivered then set up a water slide, volley ball net and round up gear for sand castle building, all for a bit of fun a long way from the beach.
Sturts Boat
The resident roo shooters have had a tough time over the previous twelve months due to unseasonably wet conditions which hasn't allowed them to get out to the stations. Two fellows, Don and Kim, who made me feel particularly welcome and classified as non core locals but who have collectively clocked up over twenty five years in the corner country are the type of characters that help make Tibooburra such a wonderful place to visit. Their experience in the back country, both here and many other isolated areas of Australia made evening conversations over a cool drink at the Family Hotel a real pleasure and many topics were thrashed about and given a good airing. The English cook, employed by the pub was a pretty quiet sort of bloke but one who suited such an area. Over the years his previous employment at places including Innamincka and Marree meant that isolation was seen as a positive from his point of view. In fact I think he'd find it a fairly lonely existence cooking for pubs down in the city. Now, the reason for going to Tibooburra in the first place was the chance of finding gold. Well, I put in the hard yards and probably dug several hundred targets most of which turned out to be projectiles, casings or small pieces of wire or boot tacks . Only two small pieces of gold came to life unfortunately however, next year I'm hoping that with the help of Adrian and Mick from Milparinka I'll be allowed to visit sites that yield pocket fulls. So with that my friends I conclude other than to offer the following advise. Make sure Tibooburra is on the 'places to visit' list so you too can enjoy the wonderful pleasures that the local characters and the corner country have on offer. Until next time. Steve and Sass
]]>Life on the road certainly has its benefits. The one I enjoy most is having a never ending change of scenery from my front and back door. For the majority of the year my address changes on forty two occasions as I attend shows, field days and race meetings in NSW, QLD, the NT, WA and SA. Right now, having opened a shop at Wentworth for the month my address is at the junction of the Murray and Darling Rivers. My trusty companion Sass ensures early morning views of the rivers don't escape me as we prowl along the banks as the sun rises and before the breeze disturbs the waters mirror surface.
Morning light on the Darling River.
The evenings, another special time of day finds us both out there again, not seeking exercise but relaxing with a brew of intoxicating cool amber liquid pre packed in an a gold coloured aluminium can, other wise known as having a cold tinny. The peace and solitude is only broken momentarily as I finish one and return along the banks through the magnificent red gum trees for another, not an unpleasant journey really, but necessary all the same.
A point of interest for all concerned with the MDB. The manager of lock 10 situated three hundred meters below the junction estimates the daily flow past the lock at 50,000mg a day. When I arrived here the flow rate was close to 40,000mg a day and rising. Most of the MDB has received further heavy falls of rain and many of the creeks and rivers are full or in flood. All this water is destined to pass by here during the next six months at a flow rate of at least 30,000ml per day. At the Murray mouth there is currently 48 gigaliters a day flowing onto the ocean, an estimated 3000 gigaliters annually is required to maintain a healthy river. This figure will be reached in under four months.
View across the Darling River as the P.S Ruby steams up the Murray
The locals at Wentworth are a friendly relaxed mob, I think the rivers cast a magic spell over those who live here and those who visit as well. Having spent nearly a month camped on the river I believe its one of those special places in Australia that I'll look forward to visiting again and again. Sass agrees as well even though she fell in the river and went completely under. You should have seen her expression as she surfaced then the antics that followed trying to dry herself rolling in the grass then barking and racing flat out weaving in and out between the trees. She was like a puppy again.
A Local
Friends passing by.
Other friends
Have a very happy Christmas and all the best for the New Year. Until next time. Steve and Sass
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On a recent trip through western NSW I passed by many famous stations whose history is best known through verse written by 'The Banjo',(A.B Paterson) about early shearing days. This gentleman certainly had a gift with words and portrayed our early pioneering days in a romantic and fanciful way, so much so infact the reality of hadships faced by the shearers, drovers and stockman, seemed barely to exist. Henry Lawson, another well known poet from the same era shaped his verse around the daily grind and described in detail the hardships and the heat, dust, droughts and loneliness these characters faced . The two gentleman lived lives in stark contrast to each other. The Banjo enjoyed many of the pleasures high society life had to offer where as Henry carried his sway and worked in the bush and in shearing sheds throughout outback Australia and often suffered from heavy bouts on the grog. Some rivalry existed between these two fellows and they exchanged friendly banter at each others work through the Bulletin magazine (known as the bushman's bible) much to the interest and pleasure of its readers. The reality is of course that Henry described life as it really was, and it was indeed a tough hard existence out there on the plains tramping the tracks carrying all their possessions to where the next work may or not be.
Shearers faced the toughest test of all workers in the bush, not only was life hard on the wallaby (track) but when they arrived at the next shed the really hard work began. If they didn't measure up there were always a camp of men at the station ready to take their place. Apart from harsh living conditions an average shearer will drag 160 or 9 tonnes of sheep almost 2 kilometres across the shed floor, restrain the animal with a bent back and push a hot heavy vibrating handpiece through heavy wool making around 5440 blows often in temperatures well over 40 degrees.The shearers also suffer injuries at six time that of other industries with most occurring to the back, arms legs and hands. To gauge the effort required to shear 200 sheep in eight hours it's the same amount of energy used by a cyclist riding in the Tour de France.
Big Burrawang (sometimes pronounced Burrawong) was one of Australias biggest sheds situated in NSW's central west at Yarrabandai. It stood 101 blade shearers and as you see in the photo above had a tram line down the board to carry wool shorn from the board to the wool room. At this stage the station was owned by Thomas Edols and his family still operate in the area but not on the same station. I have seen the remains of this shed where up to 250 men worked during shearing with the most being shorn around 1890 where 270,000 were put across the board. The station was just over half a million acres which incorporated free hold and lease hold country. The number of stands reduced to 88 when machines were introduced and even then the logistics in keeping sheep up to the shearers and away from the shed would have been a nightmare to say the least.
150 bales of wool, carrier T Baywater.
During 1884 Big Burrawang sent 5000 bales of wool off the station all of which were loaded on wagons and pulled to their destination by horse teams over rough tracks through the bush and could be held up for weeks by rain or flooded creeks or rivers. Pretty tough work which ever way you look at it living on the track for months at a time.
Blade shearer
The opening line of another verse by The Banjo is as follows, 'I've shorn at Burrabogie and I've shorn at Toganmain" I passed by both these stations during my recent trip and what's left of their woolsheds can be seen from the road close by the Murrumbidgee River.
Burrabogie Station
Burrabogie woolshed
Toganmain Station.
Shearing the Rams, by Tom Roberts
The famous painting by Tom Roberts, Shearing The Rams reminds me of one of the first jobs I took on after leaving school. It was at a merino stud and the stud rams were being shorn by blade shearers rather than machines which leaves a better tip on the wool and enhances the wools appearance later in the year when the rams go to sale. I had the job as presser. The blade shearers were two brothers and their two sons and even though it was a family show there was still that fierce competition between them as to who had the highest tally. Being one or two up at the end of a run or at cut-out for that matter is important to all shearers and they bend their backs and trim their blows to get the upper hand. You generally find in a shed that the 'Gun' or 'Ringer' of the shed will have a shearer beside him or close by who will as the saying goes,'will blow wind up his arse' to keep the bastard honest and make him work hard for his tally. It was amazing working in a shed for blade shearers, it's so quiet, generally the diesel engine is throbbing away and as the shearers pull the cord to start their next sheep the noise of the cutter running over the comb can be heard. The dogs make plenty of noise as the penner brings up more sheep and the odd call for 'wool away' as a shearer finishes his sheep letting the rousey know to get down the board smartly to pick up the last fleece.
Tubbo woolshed.
Shearers quarters, Tubbo Station.
Tubbo Station above was established in 1850 by the Scottish emigrant, John Peter. At that point in time the station covered 200,000 acres and as well, the owner had additional leeses amounting to 540,000 acres in total. During the late 1800's Tubbo shore 121,800 sheep annually. Driving passed these historic stations today the country close by the Murrumbidgee River and the old woolsheds has changed dramatically. No longer is this area reserved for holding paddocks, ram and horse paddocks but is now set out for irrigation. The crops this year look fantastic and should yield far higher than average due to the higher rainfall that occurred this year. Hopefully the rain will stop long enough to get the crop off. Until next time. Steve and Sass.
]]>The Darling and Murray rivers junction 1880.
At Wentworth, a certain aura surrounds the site where two of Australias longest rivers converge. It is here at the junction the Darling River joins the Murray and their silent turbid waters glide silently by on down through locks, weirs, lakes and wetlands and eventually into the Great Southern Ocean. Sturt was responsible for discovering this area and some years later in1859 the town of Wentworth was proclaimed, named after William Charles Wentworth, a NSW Explorer and Politation. The Murray Darling region was not considered initially for irrigation but for grazing and vast stations were established with the rivers offering quick and efficient freight for wool and other essential items. A paddle steamer was capable of shifting up to 2000 bales at a time, the alternatives were bullock, donkey or horse teams that were slow, labourous and expensive.
Darling street Wentworth 1900.
In the early days Wentworth was the second busiest port in country NSW. During 1890, 425 paddle boats checked in at the Wentworth Customs Office, the most for any one week being 31. The port of Wentworth became so prominent in fact that the town was on the short list of three as a place to build the "Capital" at the time of federation
Thegoa Lagoon and its proximinity to the Darling and Murray junction was an important meeting place for Aboriganls of the region. The last meeting took place during 1860 and it's reported some 500 people from various tribes in the region gathered there. Later in the century this area became part of the travelling stock route and known as the Wentworth Common. There were up to 150,000 head of stock pass through here annually.
The gaol, designed by colonial architect James Barnett was built in 1881 to replace the over crowded lockups, the design was then used for the building of the Dubbo and Long Bay gaols which included cells for females. The Wentworth gaol finally closed in 1927 and even today remains in excellent condition and a popular point of interest for travellers. With that brief view of some of Australias rich and exciting history we now gallop through the years to 2010 and see the latest shop to open here in Wentworth. Yes, The Packsaddle Leather Company under the brand name of Rugged Luxury has taken up residence in the old post office shed site abandoned about 1888
The Ruby, paddle boat steamer refurbished by locals.
The P.S.Ruby was built in 1907, a 205 tonne vessel that was used to deliver freight and passangers to stations and ports along the Murray. It retired from duties in 1938 and became a house boat. By 1968 and in a state of dissrepair it was purchased by the Rotary club and moored opposite the Wentworth wharf. In 1996 the shire council took responsibilty for the vessel and with the help of many locals began an eleven year restoration programme untill finally in 2007 the P.S. Ruby was ready to once again to grace the waters of the mighty Murray and Darling Rivers. Those involved should be very proud of their efforts in achieving the magnificient result
A Pelican, as sunsets on the Murray.
Cormorants, Murray River Wentworth.
Wildlife on the Murray
During my travels throughout Australia which spans from the time I left school back in 1967 until now I have visited many interesting places. There is no doubt river towns have that little bit extra to offer being the places first settled and the evidence of our earliest stone buildings in most cases are still standing and in use. Wentworth has two major rivers, plenty of historical buildings to see and is fast developing as a place of interest for tourists. Darling street, the main drag in lined with shade trees and wide footpaths covered with equally wide verandas. Several coffee shops and three gallery's help create the atmosphere required to keep towns as such a place to visit and relax in. Mildura on the other hand is full on, a huge retail area of imported products and mega stores all over the place. On my first weekend open at Wentworth many of the people through my shop were on a days outing from Mildura to relax and enjoy the atmosphere of this historic town. This may be a good place to invest in real-estate. Until next time. Steve and Sass
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The Harts Range racecourse is situated on Mount Riddock Station, about two hundred kilometers east along the Plenty Highway from the Stuart Highway. The shortest way to Alice Spring from western Queensland is along this highway but can be slow as your looking at 750 K's of dirt that is rough enough at times. During my trips to the NT shows I have been asked many time if I was going to attend the Harts Range races so this year after the Darwin show headed back down to see what it was all about. It started back in 1946 when the three Web brothers, Bob Darken and several ringers who had been branding calves all day challenged each other to a horse race back to the camp. On the day there was no clear winner as they finished in a cloud of dust much to the annoyance of the cook who was mixing damper which was covered with dirt kicked up by the horses. Having enjoyed the race so much they, along with other nearby station owners decided to form a race club. The first meeting was held the following year and was a huge success, so much so in fact that Bob Darken applied to the Northern Territory Administrator for a Central Australian holiday to be granted for each weekend of all future Harts Range race meetings. The Administrator readily agreed and gazetted the day which is now known as "picnic day".
Local entrant
Fit and ready for race one
Despite the bitterly cold wind and rain over one hundred and fifty station people arrived from somewhere out there in the bush as well as the same number of the local indigenous community from Harts Range. As with most outback events the crowd arrives on Friday, the day before the action starts, set up their camps here and there in the bush, then settle in for two days of events and on the Monday holiday slowly pack up and return to from where ever they came. This race meeting is so far from anywhere its protected from the influx of townies from our capital cities so remains a traditional bush weekend for the those from the bush, vastly different to the Brunette and Birdsville races, thank goodness. Day one commenced with gymkana events for kids then the adults followed by a couple of races and then during the afternoon the elimination rides for the bull ride and saddle bronc. That night a 70's style evening with dinner and dancing was supported by a couple of bands that entertained the various groups well into the early hours. Not having many social functions available through the year this crowd made the most of it and really let their hair down. Next morning those who had to be up made the effort and ran all the kids races. There were flat races, three legged races, sack races and lolly scramble. They worked their way through all age groups with lots of prizes handed out. These were followed by the open 100 meters and the mile, or one lap of the race track. Every race had a full field and raced under extreme conditions as the gale force icy cold wind blew relentlessly all weekend. Another pretty tough race was the truck tyre rolling event for those sixteen and over. Then final challenge for the ladies was the cow tail throwing comp. Hell this was a wild event, there were cow tails landing off the track into the spectators and one lobbed into the grand stand, the girls had a wonderful time.
Strong south westerly
Final of the twenty five meter race.
Girls sack race.
Serious business.
Ladies cow tail throwing.
In control
With the mornings programme complete everybody headed over to the rodeo grounds. Until the livestock were organised there was whip cracking, swag rolling, panel climbing and pogo stick riding . Everybody wanted to have a go and plenty of beer and rum flowed to keep people in the mood for fun. Eventually the finals of the rodeo got under way and the stock performed extremely well, better than the riders most of the time so there were plenty of spills much to the enjoyment of the crowd,
Feature ride.Spectators, Harts Range.Contractors stock for the bull ride.
This was a fantastic weekend of fun, the outback way, and if you are looking for some real bush entertainment then make plans to be there next year. Until next time. Steve and Sass.
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The south east of South Australia has been a real experience, so different to the outback where time is measured in days and the vast stations sometimes have frontage to the main track for a hundred kilometers. Down this way the towns are barely fifty K's apart and hundreds of properties share the area. Agriculture is happening right there in front of you, a break from vineyards sees mobs of either sheep or cattle at huge stocking rates grazing improved pastures and this year all stock are in prime condition. There is so much traffic down this way, nobody waves of course as they do up north and I find that I'm looking forward to seeing a roadtrain again, and a grid or two with emus and roos in the background.
Wynns
Now, as you drive through endless vineyards you notice the well known names of established wine companies with their elaborate signs inviting the public to their cellar doors. I've found it rather difficult to drive past them actually, maybe it's time to join anonymous alcoholics, or something like that. Penola is very proud of its history and many of the old buildings within the town are now owned by the National Trust and remain open to visitors. Mary has her name on every corner giving directions to the school at which she taught and as well there parks named after her and the odd church building or two. I did notice an article in the Melbourne paper recently referring to the gathering of eight thousand people in the "outback" town of Penola celebrating Mary becoming a saint. It may have been outback in 1850 but certainly not now in 2010.
Penola
Even so,throughout the south east the old established homesteads and woolsheds can still be seen marking that time in history when wool prices where twenty shillings a pound and as a result pastoralists pushed further out establishing huge stations not just here but in all states of Australia. The wealth Merino wool created played a significant role in our history allowing the development of the pastoral industry to extend right out the the desert fringe. The suporting workforce of station hands, contractors, shearers, shed-hands, the bullock teams and later Cobb and Co lived off the back of the sheep so to speak, tough days for all concerned but this helped Make Australia what it is today.
Kieth Show
Since the Birdsville Races I have attended shows at Quilpie, Broken Hill, Murray Bridge, Kingston, Kieth, Pinnaroo, Naracoorte, Mount Gambier, Penola and have set up for the Millicent show which only leaves Lucerndale, the last show in the south east of South Australia. Until next time. Steve and Sass.
]]>The Murray Darling Basin certainly has prompted some interesting discussions of late and ironically not at a time when the country is ravaged by drought but when the entire system is flush with water, feed and bird life. Hopefully the good seasons will prevail for many years whilst the much needed upgrade of irrigation infrastructure is put in place ensuring the river towns and communities thrive and the Eco system receives the flows required to sustain them.
Remember this, Western NSW
Not so long ago the picture of our country side as I traveled around Australia looked rather bleak, so much so in fact it was hard to imagine that that our rivers would ever be in flood and the wind swept plains could ever sustain plant growth ever again.
The Darling River at Tilpa
Seeing the Darling river completely dry is a shocking sight, no water means no life and to try and visualize river boats pulling barges loaded with wool hundreds of miles along this river was almost impossible. At the time this photo was taken water was being held upstream of the weir at Bourke for stock and domestic use. The Paroo and Warrego rivers are the major feeders to the Darling below Bourke and they had not run for many years so from this point on was disaster for the river. However, these testing times for our basin were soon to reverse. Wide spread rains soon had the rivers flowing and follow up rains caused floods levels that haven't been experienced since the 1900's. The drought ravaged plains soon became a sea of green herbage as far as the eye could see.
At last the Murray would finally run again filling all those wetlands along the way and flush the salt ladened water out through the lakes and finally into the southern ocean.
The Menindee Lakes.
The Darling River has to feed the Menindee Lakes before reaching the Murray. The lakes cover an area of 273000 square K's and when full are 7 meters deep and can hold 1,700,000 mgl of water. There is some irrigation in the area and Broken Hill also pipes water from there for domestic use.
The Murray River
Finally all the water from this system reaches the Murray at Wentworth, from there on the SA River-lands areas source water for their extensive but efficient irrigation projects all the way down to Lake Alexandrina.
Lake Alexandrina at sunset
This is a massive lake and accounts for huge evaporation losses as do the Menindee lakes. The Coorong and Lake Alexandrina cover an area of 143,000 ha and the Coorong is 100 kilometers in length with one long sand dune separating the fresh water from the southern ocean. During 1930 barrages were built across the Murray mouth limiting the amount of sea water to enter Lake Alexandrina so changing it to a fresh water lake fed from waters from the Murray.
The Coorong, full again
Evaporation losses from the lake are over one million mega-liters per year, an extra man made burden the basin now has to support. I must say it's a very interesting journey through the Murray Darling Basin from the extreme north catchment country down along the flood plains and rivers, through extensive irrigation areas growing cotton, rice, cereals, citrus and special varieties of wine grapes then the massive lake system and finally the southern ocean. Hopefully the final plan for the Basin is a win for all concerned.
Where the Murray River ends.Until next time.
Until next time. Steve and Sass.
]]>There are times during the show circuit year when a weekend is show free. I love that, as it gives me time to prowl about country I haven't seen before so I unhook the gooseneck and leave it planted somewhere safe, throw the swag in the Ute and head off into the bush. On this occasion I had a weekend free between The Harts Range Races and The Camooweal Drovers festival and Fieldy, an old mate of mine joined me for a trip into the Gulf. From Camooweal we headed west into the Territory on the Barkley Highway for 100 K's, the last section of real road we'd see for some time. We found the turn off to the Ranken road and steadied the pace down to about sixty clicks as the road conditions deteriorated. We were now travelling through the real Barkly country, very flat and treeless but due to favorable seasons there was plenty of cattle feed available. We reached Alexandria Downs where the first sign of life appeared as they were trucking cattle out on road trains.
Prior to this on the plains country where you can see forever in all directions you get the feeling your the only person left in Australia and the odd Roo of course. Later that day we saw a scattering of sheds and wind breaks out to the south and I realized where we were, the Brunette race track, without the mass of vehicles and people it looked quite different. Not far on from here we camped in a patch of Gidgee trees for the night at a bore near Corella Creek. Several mobs of cattle wandered past the camp on their way to water prior to heading out on the plains to feed about during the night. During the days at this time of the year being very windy the cattle tend to camp rather than feed.
The Barkly, great views.
Bore camp near Corella Creek.
This winter had pretty damn cold so before sunrise it was hard enough to get out of of the swag to light the fire and boil the billy, we decided to take turn about so every second morning you could lay there a bit longer waiting until all was ready. Bacon and eggs is always a good way to start the day especially the bacon that Fieldy brought with him. It was at least a quarter of an inch thick, bloody beautiful, specially cut and packed by his butcher back in Vic. We eventually got back on the track and headed north past Anthony Lagoon through well known Stations such as Cresswell, Wallhallow, and Mallapunyah. By now the country had changed, no longer the wide open plains but now heavily timbered rugged undulating country which is the head waters of the McAuthur River. We pulled up for a feed at Cape Crawford, a very attractive setting with lots of shade trees around the pub and plenty of activity going on including helicopter joy flights to somewhere. Refreshed and back on the track we headed for Borroloola just 110K's away. These Gulf country towns are fairly isolated and the distance to real civilization is measured in days rather than K's. Borroloola isn't the flashest looking town in Australia but still has everything a traveler needs, like food, beer and fuel and of course the prices charged include a hefty freight cost that's added on, plus a bit. Looking for a spot to camp we headed further north to Bing Bong, a port from which minerals are exported. There were no camping signs there so we backtracked towards King Ash Bay and found a quiet spot in the bush well off the road.
Shot taken at Bing Bong
Enjoying the sun near King Ash Bay
From here we off down around the Gulf towards Burketown, just under 500K's away on a pretty rough track. There were lots a steep river crossings some water being over a meter deep with large boulders in the river bed which made driving interesting. One positive in driving on rough tracks is you get plenty of time so see whats around you. I think we'd be battling to average 40 K's and hour over most of this country although others that we passed drove flat out. One section of road, if you could call it that was from the QLD border to Hells Gate was particularly bad, down to first gear many times over this 60 K' stretch. The stations had been sending road trains of cattle out and being lighter sandy country it was badly corrugated. Any way that day was a big one, 10 hours in fact over a challenging track but we made it to King Fisher camp and stayed there a couple of nights, great spot off the track a bit on the Nicholson River
Look out, Road train.
The Nicholson River.
Gulf cattle country
It was at this camp I cut some wood for the fire I thought was Bloodwood later to discover that it was actually Beefwood. When a log was put on the fire it immediately started seeping an oily sap and ignited instantly, burnt very slowly and left a whitish ash like Gidgee. Back on the track we headed for Doomadgee and stopped there for smoko then on to Burketown which is a very smart looking place and popular destination for those who enjoy catching Barra. The rivers and flood plains through this country are amazing.Just east of Normanton we crossed the Flinders River, the head waters of which lay 100K's west of Charters Towers. After stocking up with bread and meat we left Normanton towards Karumba and found a good camp on the Walker Creek. Next morning we did a quick run into Karumba which has two main industries, one is a well established fishing industry and the other is grey nomads who flock there by the thousand with their tinnies to catch a Barra or two.
Karumba
It was here I realized I'd left my tarp back at Camooweal so bought a replacement at the hardware/fishing shop. Just a small plastic one, 3 x 3m which generally cost about $25 at Bunnings. Not here though, it was $88 as you have to add freight plus a bit. I hate that. The next leg was 500K's of dirt through station country to Chillagoe. The forecast was rain throughout the Gulf and it looked like they were right by the clouds building up on the horizon.
Old mate looks healthy
There were a few showers during the day but nothing serious and that night we camped off the track probably further than we should have and just on dark down came the rain. My $88 plastic tarp wasn't looking so expensive after all. As it turned out we only had a couple of serious showers during the night and were able to get back on the track next morning without difficulty. Not far away however they had heaps of rain and the track wasn't in good shape at all. Our vehicles soon packed up with red mud and must have doubled their weight. Several trucks had gone through and cut things up fairly badly so the going was slow and it turned into a very long day at the wheel.
A very long wet track
Cattle country in the Gulf
Finally we made Chillagoe, it's surrounded by limestone peaks and underneath that is marble. This is much lighter country and the cattle tell the story, they looked awefull. Not wanting to stop here we headed off on a short cut down to Mt Surprise and booked into a grey nomad park so we could do some washing. The park was chockers and to make things worse several bus loads of school kids were there on a religious weekend trip so we sat there and listened to their songs played around their camp fire. I couldn't wait to get out of the place, must be too old and grumpy I suppose. That is as far east as we went, now we were back on a highway through Georgetown, Croydon and back close to Normanton where we camped at Leichhardts Lagoon.
Leichhardts Lagoon
This was a great camp and there were plenty of others sharing the area which was managed in a casual sort of way and only cost $10 a night. We probably should have stayed for longer but there is always another time and I'm sure I'll be back through there again.
Relaxed, at home in the bush.
The Burke and Wills Roadhouse was the next point of interest although it looked a bit rough around the edges, but not too bad. They must be too busy serving people to look about outside and see the rubbish laying about. What a pity. Back on the black top we headed over towards Gregory Downs and intended to camp somewhere along the way so stopped when we saw the first patch of Gidgee as a roast was planned for that night. We found a creek just passed Nardoo Station and settled in there. Fieldy got out the Hillbilly camp oven and prepared all the tucker and I built a decent fire so we had plenty of coals. Several hours later we tucked into the best roast lamb ever cooked. Actually we ate pretty well on this trip, roasts, brazed chops, stews and lots of steaks and the odd snag. Yea life is pretty good on the track. We landed at Gregory Downs a bit early in the day for the pub to be open but luckily the knew chef, from France, worked the cappuccino machine pretty well so that was a pleasant change from black tea and black coffee.
Gregory Downs Pub.
Broglas on the wing.
From Gregory it was back on the dirt all the way down through station country to Camooweal, to my surprise 100 K's were rough hilly country until we got back on the Barkly plains. What a wonderful country we live in. Until next time. Steve and Sass.
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