Water is becoming more precious than gold! &Deadly plants!

Day: 152 Stage three / total expedition days 543

Sunrise:
05:59

Sunset:
18:37

As the crow flies:
20,1

Daily kilometers:
25

Temperature - Day (maximum):
36° degrees, in the sun approx. 58°

Temperature - Night:
7° degrees

Latitude:
23°38'13.7''

Longitude:
141°50'33.2''

Mistletoe Camp – 10/15/2002

“Are the inhabitants of Mount Windsor Station at home?” I ask anxiously as our caravan crosses the last branch of the Mayne River. “I hope,” Tanja replies.

After our stay of several days in the last camp, our water reserves have dwindled to 20 liters. With the persistently high temperatures, our fluid consumption has risen to over 20 liters per day. To ensure our survival, we urgently need to fill up our water bags on Mount Windsor and water the thirsty camels. Normally we inform the stations on our way of our arrival, but when I called from Marion Downs, I couldn’t reach some of them.

As a rule, nobody objects to us walking through the huge estates, but the owners and managers like to know what is happening on their land. Apart from that, during the conversations I find out at which boreholes and dams we can get drinking water, where there is a possibility to water our boys and whether we have to reckon with poisonous plants for the camels. Especially now, during the worst drought in a hundred years, such information is vital for our survival. It is not uncommon for a natural waterhole to dry up or for a windmill to stop pumping water from the sinking groundwater table. In some cases, it can even happen that residents of the homesteads have simply moved away, leaving the water tanks there completely empty. In the last 2 ½ years of our march, we have already experienced a lot of unpleasantness in this regard. Once, with the last 10 liters of water, we reached a town that only existed on the map. No one lived there anymore. There was no borehole or tank. Even all the houses had disappeared and the former streets had been leveled. The sight was a real shock. (Diary overview, 20.09.00, day 132, stage one) We were very lucky to reach a kangaroo hunter who lived on a farm that was also uninhabited. So anything is possible in the outback and sometimes people die of thirst out here faster than they can blink their eyes.

“There’s a jeep in front of the farmhouse,” Tanja’s voice relieves me as the homestead comes into view around a bend. “That’s a good sign,” I say happily. I stop our caravan a few meters before the gate. While Tanja looks after our pack animals and Rufus, I make my way to the stately farmhouse. “Hello, is anyone home?” Haaallo!” I shout but nothing moves. I open a narrow gate to enter the garden that surrounds the house. I walk carefully towards the building and let my eyes wander around carefully so as not to be suddenly surprised by another chain dog. “Hello, anyone home?” I knock on the door and when there’s no movement, I walk around the building in the bright sunlight. “The station manager calls himself Tiger and is a strange person,” we were warned. I peer timidly through a window, expecting Tiger to suddenly stand behind me and ask what I’m doing here on his property. Is there a special reason for calling yourself Tiger? I think to myself. Everything is open, indicating that Tiger must be here or will be back soon.

Disappointed, I make my way back and investigate a water tank next to the nearby barn. It is empty. I use sign language to tell Tanja, who is waiting for me a few hundred meters away, that no one is home. My eyes glide over the grounds and discover another water tank next to the house. Is there water there? Can I take the precious liquid without asking? How much water do these people have here? Is it scarce? What if Tiger comes home just as I’m filling our bags? I ask myself and feel like a thief. But what else can we do? We urgently need the precious liquid that is more valuable than gold during such a drought.

THE CONSEQUENCES OF THE DROUGHT ARE UNFORESEEABLE

“Denis! There’s a truck coming!” the hot wind carries Tanja’s voice to my ears. A high cloud of dust is indeed approaching us. I go to the spacious square in front of the house to show myself to the driver. He stops the cattle truck right next to me. “Hello, my name is Denis and I’m crossing the outback with my partner and our camels,” I introduce myself with a friendly laugh. “Are you the man who fell into the Spinifex?” the driver asks, holding out his hand in greeting. “How? Um, how do you know that?” I say, surprised. “I’ve heard a few interviews with you on the radio,” he laughs. The ice is immediately broken. “Do your camels have enough to eat in this drought?” Tiger wants to know. “No, they’re losing weight. There are only gidyea trees left, everything else has dried up.” “I’d like to give you some of our hay, but the cattle here are in such bad shape that we need every stalk of it for them.” “Can’t you sell them?” Only a few of them left. Most of them are so thin, though, that nobody wants them.” “How many are left on the station?” “About 6000.” “And what will happen to them?” “Only God knows. The only thing that can save them is rain. About three years ago it rained so much here that we had a terrible flood disaster and now we’re facing the worst drought in memory. The weather is unpredictable. Many cattle will die. Thousands.” “Isn’t this station part of a corporate group?” “Yes, it’s owned by the Mac Donald family. They manage eight cattle farms and are one of the largest private landowners in Australia.” “Can’t you move the cattle to other stations?” “It’s too late for that. They wouldn’t survive the round-up and transportation.” “Will the Mac Donalds survive economically?” “Yes, they are rich and powerful enough to cope with this drought, but many smaller station owners will lose everything.”

We talk for a while about the natural disaster and its consequences until Tiger offers to fill us up with as much water as we need. “There’s a tap over there next to the barn. Take what you need. If you want, you can also water your camels. It’s dam water?” he explains. “Dam water? Can we also use it for drinking?” I ask, because in the drought it often happens that cattle die in the mud of the slowly drying dams. “It hasn’t rained for almost two years. We haven’t had any rainwater for a long time. Dam water is the only thing we still have here. We treat it with silver ions. It’s safe to drink,” he reassures me.

HEIKLE LADESITUATION

We quickly hosed down our thirsty comrades in front of the barn. While Tanja carries bucket after bucket to them, I fill 160 liters of water into our 10 liter bags after carefully studying the map. The homestead of Mayneside Station is about 120 kilometers away. If we manage 25 to 30 kilometers a day, we could fill up with water there again in 5 days at the latest. As Jafar’s ulcer turns out to be more stubborn than we expected, we have to relieve him. Edgar is more than full with 60 liters and approx. 70 kilograms of equipment. Istan’s hump is shrinking noticeably due to the poor feeding situation. As he was severely weakened by pneumonia last year and only escaped the grim reaper by a hair’s breadth, his fat reserves have still not been able to fully regenerate. That’s why we have to keep a special eye on the former, beefy and powerful Istan and not overload him. Hardie has to put up with Rufus on his back all the time because of the poisoned dingo bait on top of all the luggage. Jasper is at his maximum with equipment and water and so is Sebastian. With 160 liters, our food and expedition equipment, we reach our limits under these circumstances and weather conditions. So once again, it’s a matter of pure calculation to get us to our next weekly destination in one piece. Of course we could load our boys up with 200 liters or more of water, but if we overload them with the increasing monkey heat, the rare opportunities to water them, the really bad food situation, it’s only a matter of time before one of them collapses. That would be tantamount to a disaster. Since Max died, we have to try to get by with six pack camels. Things have gone quite well so far, but injuries and signs of fatigue, heat and the drought are presenting us with further unforeseen challenges.

DEADLY PLANTS

I’m loading the last water bag when Tiger arrives with his camera and asks if he can take a picture of the caravan. “Sure, as many as you like,” we say. “Have you heard if the Desert Poison Bush is found in the Vergemont area?” I ask more casually. “Yes, I don’t know if it grows on Vergemont Station, but I’ve heard about it,” his answer shocks us. “Well, that would be the end of us,” I gasp in horror. “Hm, yes, I know. One bite and your camels will drop dead.” “Dean Anderson from Hukitta Station warned us about this weeks ago but couldn’t find out anything definite. He suggested that we avoid the area in a wide arc via his other station, Westerton,” I say. “I would do the same. What’s a detour compared to dead camels?” “You’re right, we’ll avoid Vergemont and head south,” I decide.

Before we say goodbye to Tiger half an hour later, we ask him to call Jan and Dean Anderson. “Please let them know that we expect to arrive at Westerton on Sunday.” I’ll be happy to do that,’ he says, waving after us.

Fully loaded, we continue our march and follow a track that winds along the Mayne River. Again and again we come across dead cattle whose carcasses, decomposing in the hot sun, stink terribly. In the afternoon we cross two dried-up arms of the Mayne and find some shade for a camp under a gidyea tree. Our boys have to make do with the monotonous fare. However, mistletoe grows on some trees. They like to eat the nutritious and proliferating parasitic plant. Our mood is somewhat dampened by the drought and the death that now constantly accompanies us. Nevertheless, we try to remain confident and enjoy the evening under the glittering and endless starry sky.