Risky rescue operation

Day: 266 Stage Three expedition days total 657

Sunrise:
05:39

Sunset:
18:42

Total kilometers:
6980 km

Temperature - Day (maximum):
22° degrees, no sun

Temperature - Night:
20°

Latitude:
23°22'32.9"

Longitude:
150°24'01.3"

Paradise Lagoons Camp – 06.02.2003

Unpleasant wetness creeps up my limbs. I think I’m drowning in a cold swamp. As the water rises up to my mouth, I try to save myself by swimming vigorously and wake up from my nightmare. I immediately sit up and look around in confusion for the first moment. Relieved, I recognize the inside of our tent. Gloomy daylight filters through the canvas. The incessant drumming of raindrops on the tent tells us what it looks like outside. I listlessly lower my upper body back onto the insulation mat. “Ah!” I shout, startled, as my arms sink into the dampness next to the mat. I immediately sit up again and feel the tent floor. It billows up and down. There’s no doubt about it, our little fabric house is in the middle of a lake. It’s not long before Tanja and I leave our sinking dwelling in a hurry.

At 8:00 a.m. I give an interview to a radio station in Melbourne. Then we have fresh fruit and muesli for breakfast. “Doesn’t look good. I hope our camels aren’t in the water,’ I say. “The best thing is to go there,” Tanja replies anxiously. “I can’t get over Lions Creek with the truck. It was barely passable yesterday. I’ll ask Hamish, maybe he’ll lend me his jeep,’ I reply, looking out of the window.

RAGING R IVERS ISOLATE US FROM THE OUTSIDE WORLD

A little later, I’m sitting in the Toyota and leaving the wrestlers’ house. My journey comes to an abrupt end after just two hundred meters. A river about a hundred meters wide pushes through the fields that were ploughed only days ago, right before my eyes. Horrified by these sudden masses of water, I return to the house.

“It looks like we’re sealed off from the outside world,” I tell Tanja. “Maybe Robert has an idea how we can get to the camels?” she asks. Without letting much time pass, I call him. “Bad news Denis. Lions Creek is absolutely impassable. So, access to your camels from this side is impossible. There might still be a chance if we go the other way around. But then we’ll have to go all the way through Rockhampton to approach the enclosures from the east. I’ll call a few mates from the neighborhood. Maybe they know how your camels are doing,’ he says, whereupon we end the call. Tanja and I look at each other and can’t believe what we’re experiencing. Cyclone Benni has now hit the coast and is unloading huge masses of water. I walk nervously up and down the wrestlers’ house. We realize that the camels are now in danger. The rising tide is probably more threatening to their survival than we can even imagine.

I look out of the window in despair. My gaze falls on the Lagoone, which only yesterday was the size of a village pond. Lions Creek fills it to the brim with its huge masses of water. You can really see how the pond is rising and it can’t be long before it overflows its banks in all places. “This can’t be true. We survived 7000 kilometers on foot through Australia and now, at the end of this huge expedition, our boys are threatened by a flood disaster. That simply cannot be true! Surely we can’t be forced to wait so long for the poor animals to drown?” I say, still pacing back and forth like a lion.

In the meantime, Robert has managed to reach us in his jeep. “How did you get through the river in front of the house?” I want to know. My Jeep has a snorkel. This gives the engine oxygen and prevents it from running down,” he explains.

“Come on, I’ll take you to Lions Creek. Maybe we’ll manage to cross it after all,” he suggests. Five minutes later, we are sitting in his jeep and driving through the wide river by the house. It is incredible to see what these vehicles can do. In fact, the water sloshes over the hood, giving us the feeling that we are sitting in a submarine rather than a jeep. We reach the other bank without incident. We slowly make our way through the mud until we arrive at Lions Creek. As if hypnotized, we stare at a raging whitewater river that crosses the road. “It’ll take any vehicle with it,” says Robert in his dry, calm manner. “It’s hard to believe. I would never have dreamed that such an unsightly, tiny, dried-up streambed could turn into such a deadly water roller,” I say in a respectful whisper. Just 15 meters further on, the masses of water are tearing at a barbed wire fence. At the latest, this would tear every human life to shreds. A chill runs down my spine.

Disappointed, we turn back. “Unfortunately, we can’t go through the town now either. All the entrances to the farm are under water or flooded by raging rivers,” explains Robert as he drops us back at the house. “I’ll call a neighbor again. Maybe he can tell us how high your camels are in the water,” he tries to comfort us.

WILL OUR CAMELS DROWN IN THE RISING TIDES?

I walk up and down the house by the lagoon again. I’m racking my brains and honestly don’t know what to do anymore. “Our boys don’t deserve this! No, they don’t deserve this!” I grumble loudly. “What kind of learning task is this? Why is Mother Earth doing this to us at the end of this expedition? I just can’t believe it! What kind of end to such a journey?” I curse and swear. “We should try to swim across the lagoon. Maybe we have a chance of reaching our camels?” Tanja interrupts my noisy thoughts. “Swim across the lagoon?” I ask in horror. “Yes, we should at least give it a try. We can’t wait here until they’ve all drowned, can we? Or is that what you want?” “Of course I don’t want that. But swimming through the lagoon? That’s a risky thing to do. Look at the masses of water. Lions Creek is now level with the lagoon. It burst its banks hours ago. Look outside. The water will soon reach the house here and you’d think you were right on the ocean. There’s nothing but water as far as the eye can see. We have to get through it. Even the slightly raised fields will be so boggy that we’ll sink deep into the mud. I don’t know?” I chatter excitedly. “I’m in favor of trying.” “And what if we get killed? I mean, it’s bad enough that our camels are in an emergency, but risking our lives to save them is going too far!” I shout desperately.

We turn on the radio to find out whether the rain will subside in the next few hours. Almost every channel is talking about the flood. Suddenly the first disaster report comes in. A farmer who wanted to save his horses from certain death by drowning is missing. It is assumed that it was swept away by the flood. Helicopters are deployed to find him. “You see. He wanted to save his horses and didn’t come back,’ I say as a shiver runs up and down my spine.

In between, a few radio stations call to ask for an interview about the success of our expedition. I feel like I’ve been spat out. It takes a lot of effort to say something sensible. In my opinion, we are still in the middle of it. We are currently facing one of the greatest challenges of our expedition, because we believe it will only be successful if we all survive it.

Mark from the Morning Bulletin also calls me. “So, if you want to save your camels, it’s now or never. In a few hours it’s going to rain even more and even harder,” he says. Tanja and I look at each other. The masses of water around us continue to rise every minute. I rush back and forth like a caged wolf. My thought center is working at full speed. If it gets too dangerous, we can always turn back. Tanja is right. We must at least give it a try. To a certain extent, life always consists of risks. There is no life without risk. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Fear paralyzes us, makes us unfree, it goes through my head.

DANGEROUS RESCUE ACTION

“Okay, let’s go. Better not let any more time pass. We need every minute.” “Good decision,” says Tanja. “It’s best to put on long thermal underwear and our Fjällräven rain skins on top,” she says, and we get into action. Somehow I feel like we’re preparing for a special mission. Everything runs smoothly and quietly. We strap a belt over our raincoat to which we attach our knives and the Leatherman. Tanja packs a rucksack in which we put lead lines, halters and a flashlight. “Good luck,” wish us some of the wrestlers standing at the window and watching us. “Thank you, we could do with that,” I reply. “If you can do it, I’ll try it too. I’m the best man. My best friend is getting married tomorrow. If you get out there, I’ve got a good chance too,’ Hamish calls after us.

We make good progress for the first few meters. The ground up to the lake is slippery and wet. The water has torn wide fissures in the ground. Hundreds of torrential rivulets make their way through torn open gorges and valleys. We carefully climb over them. The heavy rain means we can’t see much. Everything is gray in gray. Layers of mud quickly form under our sandals. We slide along and support each other to avoid falling. Barely two hundred meters behind the house, we reach the water of the pond, which has turned into an endless ocean. We have to get in there!” I shout. Tanja nods. “You’d better stay on the shore for now. I’ll see how deep it is and whether there’s a strong current. If everything goes well, I’ll wave to you!” I explain against the whipping of the wind.

I now step carefully into the lake. I am greeted by unpleasant wetness. A brief thought of crocodiles makes me shiver. But I don’t think they swam from the Fitzroy River to here in such a short time. What’s more, the Fitzroy has not yet burst its banks. “Ohhaaah! It’s so cold!” I shiver until my body gets used to the temperature. I’m now waist-deep in water. It looks like I’ve found a good spot to cross Lions Creek, which flows into the lagoon here. “It looks good!” I shout to Tanja and wave. She also gets into the water now and follows me.

We make our way through the wet in this way for about 10 minutes until the ground suddenly becomes higher again. We seem to have reached the other side of the creek. We now trudge carefully through knee-high water. Our progress is slow, but we are making progress. At the moment, the whole operation looks less dangerous than I thought. The raging current of Lions Creek is at least 500 meters away from here. It is still flowing strongly at this point, but it doesn’t sweep us off our feet.

After half an hour of hard work, we recognize a wide steel gate. A side arm of Lions Creek washes its water masses through the bottom. We approach the gate cautiously. To the left and right of it is a barbed wire fence that stretches into the flooded fields. I open the steel chain that holds the gate together so as not to tear our rain skins when overcoming the obstacle. We leave the barrier behind us and trudge through the eternal lake.

We film each other so that we can document our rescue operation properly. Unfortunately, moisture penetrates the underwater housing of the film camera. The lens quickly tarnishes and our camera is in danger. We can’t worry about it and continue on our arduous journey. After an hour we reach muddy fields. We sometimes sink up to our knees in the mud. Tanja has lost a sandal in the absorbent ground and is now walking half barefoot. “Make sure you don’t step on anything sharp!” I warn, forging ahead. We watch out for snakes and other vermin with every step we take. We don’t want to accidentally step on a poisonous animal fleeing from the masses of water. “Look over there. There are our boys. It looks like they’re standing!” I shout happily. Inspired, we make our way through the swamp.

OUR FRIENDS LIVE STILL

When we finally reach the camel enclosure, we have covered no more than about one kilometer. It took us 1 ½ hours. We are now on the other side of Lions Creek, which is only a few hundred meters away from here, letting its dangerous, raging masses of water rush over the road. We are appalled. Sebastian, Hardi, Jafar, Istan, Edgar and Jasper are standing in water up to their knees.

The calluses on her knees are softened. Your whole body is shaking. Her eyes look at us sadly. Sebastian looks pathetic but he hasn’t given up. He is alive. As soon as he recognizes us, he runs in our direction. He has not lost his authority, his pride. His herd follows him. I clip the lead line into his halter and pull him through the water. We have to hurry. Darkness comes soon and we have to go all the way back. In addition, the constant rain makes the tide rise higher and higher.

For us, it’s a miracle that they still have the strength to walk. You have now been in this constantly rising sea for 24 hours. “We have to get her out of there!” “Where to?” Tanja asks. “Over there, that’s the only patch of ground that isn’t under water yet. They might have a chance there,’ I say, pointing to a fence two hundred meters away from us,” I shout. I slowly pull Sebastian through the water. Again and again I stumble, stumble over a floating branch or other flotsam. Sometimes I sink up to my thighs in the broth. I follow the fence of the enclosure. The current has torn the posts out of the ground in some places. Barbed wire stretches beneath the surface of the water, invisible to my eyes, and tears at my shins. “Ahhh!” I cry out in pain and lead Sebastian around the outside. Hardie also stumbles over the barbed wire. Istan almost gets caught up in it, but manages to free himself just in time. Jafar kicks him with his front feet. Edgar manages to climb over it elegantly and Jasper pulls the hideous thing along behind him.

Our emotional world can be compared to a churning ocean. Fear has once again managed to hover over the fate of our animal friends like a sword of death. We are overjoyed to see them alive, but at the same time we suffer with them. No roof protects them from the falling moisture. Apart from the small patch of land in front of us, the entire country is under water. How long can they survive? Will they get pneumonia? Does Sebastian have enough strength to overcome this challenge? When will it finally stop raining?

I carefully lead Sebastian out of the flooded fence and pull him into the neighboring enclosure. It doesn’t take long for his comrades to follow him.

We discover two graves, one of which is only a year old. The increasing twilight, the rain and the gloom make the place seem eerie. Unfortunately, we have no choice but to leave our partners in the enclosure despite the graves.

Hungry for food, they immediately start eating the tall grass growing here. Then they feed on the trees. Tanja and I carry the bale of hay that I left at the gate last night and put it in a small, half-demolished corrugated iron shed. Thousands of biting ants crawl over our feet and put us to flight. The camels discover the hay bale, stretch their long, wet necks into the shed and eat. We watch them for a while and are glad to have freed them from their deadly grip for the time being. “You were right. It was worth taking the risk to save them. If the continuous rain stops in the next 24 hours, they won’t sink on this rise,’ I say, satisfied with ourselves. “I’m so glad I dared to do it,” Tanja whispers, taking my hand. “I think we have to go back. It’s just how the water rises,” I reply.

On the way back, we meet Hamish, who has made his way through the lake and the muddy fields with his rucksack. He laughs and is also proud of his decision to cross the flood. “How are you getting out of here?” I ask, because from what we’ve heard, the whole country as far as Rockhampton is under water. “A friend is picking me up in a jeep on the other side of Lions Creek,” he replies. “Are you going to make it to the wedding?” I want to know. If we get through the masses of water, I’ll reach my plane in Rockhampton this evening. The wedding is tomorrow. I think I’ll make it,” he says and continues walking.

THE RISING TIDES MAKE THE RETURN JOURNEY MORE DIFFICULT

When we pass the point where Lions Creek thunders over the road, it almost takes our breath away. The current has become even more torrential and looks even more threatening. We quickly make our way along its left bank through the flooded fields until we sink up to our hips in water again. A cat hangs in a bush. When she sees us coming, she jumps into the water and swims to the next bush. Panic is written all over her little face. We can’t do anything for them and are working our way forward step by step. Just two hours ago we were able to discover some landmarks here, but in the meantime these have also disappeared. Orientation has become difficult. We don’t know where the bank of Lions Creek is. There are no more landmarks. Only trees protrude from the ocean. We sink into the water up to our hips, then up to our chests, until we are actually forced to swim. A slight current pushes us towards the middle of the lake, but we manage to reach the shore at the lagoon house in time.

After a hot shower, we are invited to dinner by the cattle baron Graem Acton. The program of contrasts never ends. Apparently the Australian continent is not finished with us yet. While our partners live out their lives on a small island in the rain, Graem picks us up in his Toyota. We drive up a barren hill on the highest point of which stands his villa. The view from up here is breathtaking. Below us, in the vast expanse of land, a gigantic expanse of water has formed that joins up with the lights of the city of Rockhampton about 20 kilometers away. An expansive roof stretches over the large terrace and protects us from the unpleasant rain. “Let’s go into the house,” says Graem. We step into a huge room several hundred square meters in size. There are no walls. separating the kitchen, bar, living room and dining room. Impressed, we take a seat at a beautifully laid table and enjoy a different world for a few hours.