Dangers of civilization

Day: 248 Stage three / total expedition days 639

Sunrise:
05:28

Sunset:
18:49

As the crow flies:
20,1

Daily kilometers:
39

Total kilometers:
6897 km

Temperature - Day (maximum):
38° degrees, sun approx. 57°

Temperature - Night:
20°

Latitude:
23°22'32.9"

Longitude:
150°24'01.3"

Paradise Lagoons-Camp – 20.01.2003

FOUR-WINGED DRAGON NECK

15 minutes before six in the morning, I lead our caravan along the Capricorn Highway. We still follow the verge overgrown with tall grass, which is bordered on the left by a barbed wire fence and on the right by the highway. The grass makes it impossible for me to spot the many discarded bottles. We carefully feel our way through a minefield. My eyes search the ground incessantly. When I do discover a broken bottle neck among the tufts of grass, I startle and pull Sebastian’s lead line around. I carefully pull our lead camel around the dangerous thing. His mates follow him. Suddenly one of the many road trains comes thundering past. Jasper shies away and pulls Edgar aside with him. Suddenly all the camels are jumping like goats through the treacherous grass. If there is a broken bottle somewhere, it is very easy for one of the 24 camel feet to step into it and cut the sole of its foot. I pray that we are spared such a terrible accident on the last few kilometers. My nerves are strained to the breaking point. We have to drive three kilometers along the shoulder, which is perhaps 10 to 15 meters wide, until we can turn off onto the side road.

Suddenly we enter a valley through which a creek normally winds. But because of the merciless drought, it has dried up. Man-high reeds cover the ground. Next to us, large concrete pipes are bored like tunnels under the asphalt to channel the water under the highway. Every few minutes, cars and road trains thunder past about a meter above our heads. The situation is spooky for our desert animals. Sebastian suddenly refuses to move another meter. Ööööööhhääää! he yells, stands rooted to the spot and stares at the huge black holes. For him, the water passages must look like a multi-snouted dragon’s neck. “It’s all right, Sebastian. It’s just a bridge. It doesn’t bite. Come on,” I talk to him calmly, but he doesn’t react. Whenever a car drives over the bridge, the concrete tubes seem to literally scream due to the vibrations. Sebastian’s eyes widen in horror and he would love to go through. I continue to talk to him reassuringly, wait until there are no cars in sight and pull him close to the spiky fence through the high reeds. I walk backwards, look him in the eye and he actually follows me as if in slow motion. The reed grass is wet from the morning dew. When we come out on the other side of the creek, we are soaked to the waist. Even our shoes, which are now badly affected, let the moisture through.

THE BIRTH OF UGLINESS

We are forced to work our way along the main road for another two kilometers until we finally reach the dirt track that leads us around the coal-fired power station. As we cross the highway, Sebastian lets himself be pulled along. For a few days now, he has lost his drive. “He’s probably tired from the strenuous walk,” I say to Tanja. Now back on a dirt road with little traffic, we take a wide curve that saves us almost 10 kilometers of highway. We are heading straight for the spawn of ugliness. The power station, with its two fat 130-meter-high cooling towers, spews out steam and bright, ugly smoke. “The surrounding fields are part of the power station’s buffer zone,” Darren explained to me yesterday. “Why a buffer zone?” I wanted to know. “The energy company is trying to silence all the local residents by buying up their land.” “Do you think the exhaust fumes affect the valley residents?” “Oh yes. The power station has been there for over 10 years now. Since then, some of the people in the area have had to leave the valley. Many now suffer from asthma. It’s the acid rain that causes this. Burning the coal produces a gas which, in combination with humidity, turns into acid rain. Due to the proximity to the coast, we always have very high humidity here. I don’t know why they didn’t build the power plant further inland, where the air is drier. There’s nothing we can do about it now. Unfortunately, it’s not just the people who are affected by acid rain, but all our farm machinery, fences and absolutely everything that contains iron.” “What do you mean?” I asked in astonishment. “The humid air contains so much acid that everything simply rusts together. Shortly after the power plant was put into operation, I noticed how my plow was covered in rust just one day after use. It’s just a nightmare but we have to live with it now or move away.”

Thoughtfully, I pull the caravan around the monstrous building. The two huge cooling towers roar like a waterfall. Huge quantities of water are pumped in from the Fitzroy River through a 28-kilometer pipeline. Every second, around 300 liters of water evaporate from one of the two cooling towers. That means 2,160,000 (two million one hundred and sixty thousand) liters of water per hour. As the power plant is in operation 24 hours a day, 51,840,000 (fifty-one million, one hundred and eighty-four thousand) liters of water evaporate in a single day, even during a drought. 11000 tons of coal are burned every day to generate 1400 megawatts of electricity. This means that the voracious energy guzzler swallows a hundred railroad cars full of coal per day to generate the electricity for us humans. It seems to me that a lot more is put into this energy conversion than we get out. What’s more, it’s dirty energy production, as Darren told me. Of course we humans need electricity to maintain the economy and our standard of living. But at what cost? It looks like some people here are forced to sacrifice their health so that they and their neighbors can have light in their homes. A terrible price and for me a terrible realization. Shouldn’t we be using nature’s energy much more? Solar energy, wind energy and tidal power plants would be a solution. But will this energy generation also cause harm? I don’t know. Somehow the cat seems to keep biting its own tail. How can we ensure our continued existence without destroying Mother Earth and ourselves in the process? Which form of energy is so clean that we don’t kill ourselves in the process? The stark contrast we are suddenly exposed to here has my head spinning. Nevertheless, I have to concentrate on the road, our animals and the moment.

We are now back on a wide asphalt road that will meet the highway in a few kilometers. Here too, road trains force us onto the hard shoulder, which becomes dangerously narrow in some places. Tanja often has to jump into the road to stop one of the onrushing road trains. We are happy because none of the drivers are annoyed with us and everyone gives us time to pass through the bottlenecks until we are overtaken by a driver who is speeding along far too fast. Everything happens in a flash. First the woman reduces her speed and shifts down a gear. Just before she reaches Jasper, she steps on the gas. The engine roars and Jasper jumps into the middle of the road in shock. The woman turns the wheel. “Achtuuuung!” Tanja yells so hard it goes through my bones. Looking back, I see how the fender of the car misses Jasper’s flanks by just a few centimeters. Then she races past the camel train. “Phew, that was close again!” Tanja exclaims.

INVOLUNTARY CAR DRIVING AND ROAD CLOSURES

As expected, after two hours we reach the bridge that crosses the highway and the railroad line. We are forced to go beyond them. Tired and exhausted from the tension of the last few hours, we stop in front of it and think about how we can get over the large structure without causing any damage. It would be best to stay on this side and follow the railroad tracks. “Maybe there’s an easier transition further down,” I say. “And if not?” Tanja replies. “Hm, then we have to go back.” Because we don’t feel like taking another detour, we ask the occupants of a car that has just stopped next to us. “I’ll ask my father. He owned the land a few years ago. He knows it like the back of his hand,’ says the young woman and disappears. A little later, another Ute stops. A heavyset man gets out of the car. It is the deputy ranger of this community. “Haven’t you already been side-tracked in other communities?” his first question startles us, but Jeffrey doesn’t take offense. He enquires about the expedition. “Do you know if we can continue on this side of the road and find an easier crossing than this bridge?” I want to know. “It’s best if I drive down the road with you, then we’ll know more,” he offers. The driver’s father has also arrived in the meantime and offers to help, but the ranger refuses to accept his offer.

While Tanja looks after the camels, Jeffrey shows me the route. “I don’t want to worry you Denis, but when my uncle brought camels from Boulia to Rockhampton many years ago, most of them died,” Jeffrey chats. “What? What did they die of?” I ask in horror as we look at the path that crosses the train tracks a few kilometers further on. “Here you would cross the tracks and the highway,” he quickly changes the subject. “That looks good. So we can save ourselves the bridge,’ I reply with satisfaction. As soon as I close my mouth, Jeffrey continues with the camel theme. “As far as I know, the camels couldn’t stand the grass in this area.” “And how many died?” I want to know. “Of the 30 or 40 camels that arrived here, only three survived.” “For God’s sake! Only three camels? That’s terrible! I hope it’s not like that for our boys. That would be a nightmare,’ I reply, shaken.

“I’ll quickly show you where the cattle baron Graem Acton lives,” says Jeffrey. Although I know exactly where Graem’s Paradies Lagoons station is from my map study, I let Jeffrey have his way. During the ride, he asks me all sorts of questions and every time I give him the answer, he only half listens. Then he types a number into his cell phone. “Mom? It’s me, Jeffrey. I’ve got the camel man sitting next to me.” “Which camel man?” “The one in the newspaper. You’ve read about the expedition, haven’t you?” “Oh yes, I did.” “Is my uncle at home?” “Yes.” “Okay, we’ll be there soon,” he says, to which I look at the ranger in amazement. “The Acton family villa is up there,” says Jeffrey, pointing to a brown and completely bare hill. “That over there is also part of Paradise Lagoons,” he says a few kilometers further on, pointing to land that has also been parched by drought. “I wonder how our camels are supposed to find something to eat here,” I ponder aloud. “Yes, the drought will soon bring us all to the brink of despair,” Jeffrey continues to growl. We have long since passed Paradiese Lagoons as we are still walking away from Tanja and our boys. “Where are we going?” I ask, because we are losing precious time with every minute that passes. “Oh, I’ll take you home quickly,” I hear his voice and can’t believe that this man is actually kidnapping me. I try to remain calm.15 Minutes later, we stop in front of a house. “Hello, it’s us,” Jeffrey calls out to his mother and uncle.

“This is the camel man Denis,” Jeffrey introduces me. “I also brought camels to Rockhampton once. Come on, I’ll show you some photos,” says the man and walks to the house. It doesn’t take long before I’m standing with him in the sweltering heat, looking at pictures of horse-drawn carts and horses. “That’s our business. We drive to events and weddings. You can hire our horse-drawn carriages and horses. Do you understand? What you see in the pictures is a huge convoy of horse-drawn carriages. We’ve met up from all over the country. The television was there too. But they only showed a few of our horses,’ he chats as I get more and more restless. Tanja has been alone for over an hour now and I’m getting thirstier and thirstier. I feel tired and burnt out and, to be honest, I don’t have the slightest interest in looking at a photo album about horse-drawn carriages right now. “Jeffrey told me that you once brought camels from Boulia to Rokhampton?” “Yes, yes, but that was a long time ago.” “Jeffrey told me that many of them died?” I ask curiously. “What do you mean many? We brought three camels here and one died. It probably died of old age,” he replies and turns to the next page of his photo album. “I’m sorry, but I urgently need to get back to Tanja. I don’t want to leave her alone for so long and it looks like we still have a long way to go,’ I say. “No problem, I’ll drive you back now,” Jeffrey replies.

After a total of two hours I am back with Tanja. Jeffrey has now decided to take us over the bridge after all. He and his uncle, who incidentally followed us in his car to see the camels, want to close the bridge. As a ranger, he is apparently authorized to do so. Only minutes later, the time has come. “Camis walk up!” I shout and lead the caravan across the now closed-off road. Sebastian has become terrible at letting himself be pulled. His eyes seem to have lost their shine and when I take a closer look at him, they are actually deep in their sockets. We reach the other side of the bridge without incident. “From here you can follow the old road until you meet the highway again,” Jeffrey explains and bids us farewell.

Exhausted and exhausted, we now walk along the quiet, quiet side road on the other side of the highway. “I just can’t understand why the helper ranger drove me around for two hours just to cross the bridge in the end. That was a complete waste of time,” I grumble. “The man probably enjoyed your company?” “That’s no reason to take me on a two-hour round trip. I even had to look at a photo album!” I huff out loud. “We’ll manage the last few kilometers now. Stay calm.” “I am calm! Totally relaxed! Couldn’t be more relaxed!” I continue to swear and curse until we both burst into hearty and wild laughter.

It doesn’t take long for Jeffrey to reappear. “I’ve called the police. We’ll close the bridge together before the junction. Then you can cross the highway safely,” he says kindly. “Fantastic,” we reply as if from the same mouth. “Maybe you have time to have a cup of tea with me afterwards?” “I’m sorry Jeffrey. We really have to get going. It’s at least another 20 kilometers to our destination and we want to reach it before the end of the day,” I decline his invitation.

Two kilometers further on we meet Ray the policeman. Traffic is quickly closed and we cross the bridge over the busy road without incident. After saying goodbye to the two of them, we walk back along a side road towards Paradise Lagoons. Our bodies are about to collapse when I stop the caravan after more than 10 hours at the foot of the hill on which the Actonvilla is enthroned. “Should we go up there?” I ask Tanja. “I wouldn’t. Let’s rest here for a while. Maybe someone will come by,” she suggests. Following her advice, I lie down on the bare ground with aching bones. We have just been lying down for a few minutes when a jeep from the Superbeef company comes by. The driver promises to inform us of the arrival of the camel expedition at the house. Minutes later he appears again. “Graem is in a meeting. But someone will take care of you soon,” he says and drives off.

Exhausted, we lie back down on the stony, ant-covered earth. Sebastian now looks worrying. He puts his head on the floor and lets out a loud gasp. “Will our boys find something to eat here?” I break the silence. “I hope so. Maybe they’ll get some hay,” Tanja replies.

We lie there for 20 minutes until a jeep pulls up next to us. He is the son-in-law of Graem Acton and manager of Paradise Lagoons. He greets us in a friendly manner and asks: “Can you walk another kilometer?” “Yes,” I reply, stretching my stiff body. “We have an enclosure at the creek bed where your camels will certainly feel at home. While you run down there, I’ll get the stallion out of the enclosure,” he says. A quarter of an hour later, we scurry our boys into a lush meadow. Robert offers to help us unload the animals. “We have an old wooden house where you can stay or you can move in with the wrestlers. There’s electricity and a telephone in the wrestlers’ house,” he offers. Thank you very much. I think we’ll pitch our tent today and move tomorrow. We’re just too tired to take our equipment anywhere and make a decision,’ I reply.

It’s already dark when we lie down in the mosquito tent, exhausted and feeling a bit shaken. In the last nine days, we have covered 303 kilometers. We are glad to have brought our boys through the dangers of civilization without harm. “Do you think Sebastian is ill?” I whisper. “I don’t know. He doesn’t deserve this right now,’ I hear Tanja say.