Wild galloping horses cause a commotion

Bilby Camp – 08.10.2002

A few hours before the night is over for us, a strong wind comes up. Just like a few days ago, the finest sand and dust blows over our camp. The temperatures suddenly rise and promise a warm day. A dark ring of clouds approaches menacingly and sends a few emissaries around our camp. The stars hide behind a veil of swirling earth particles that is invisible at night. The gusts of wind bend the branches of the gidyea trees, tossing them back and forth and making them howl. It’s not going to start raining, is it? Tired and a little nervous, I peer out of the small opening of my sleeping bag into the unfriendly night. Oh well, it’s definitely not going to rain now, I decide.

To protect my face from the dust, I crawl even deeper into the sleeping bag. Hopefully the sandstorm will subside by tomorrow morning, I think to myself and try to go back to sleep. But now that I’m awake, several thoughts are racing through my brain at once. Will Tanja’s finger catch fire? That would be a bad thing out here. He didn’t look good. What if she gets blood poisoning? Or if the dingo transmits any diseases? We are still a long way from hospitals and doctors. The nearest town with medical assistance is Longreach and it takes us four weeks to get to Longreach. Too bad she helped Rob’s dingo when he got tangled up in his chain. It’s just as well that we put some anti-inflammatory cream on it straight away and it’s just as well that there’s no rabies in Australia, I reassure myself and try to go back to sleep. Will the nail bed ever look normal again? the next thought keeps me awake. The dingo boy’s tooth has literally slashed it open.

It’s strange what dangers you have to reckon with out here in the wilderness. Rob, the young warden at Springvale Station, caught two small dingoes a few weeks ago. They were obviously very hungry and busy feeding on the carcass of a dead horse when they lost their freedom. “I’ll tame them and cross them with my dog. Then I’ll keep the babies and release the dingoes,” he explained.

Whenever I walked from our camp to the farmhouse to write down my notes in the manager’s empty house, I visited the dingoes. They were chained up and sought shelter under the wrestlers’ shelters. Tanja also visited the wild dogs from time to time, until she freed one of the poor fellows from his knot. Unfortunately, he then bit her and now she has a bad index finger.

As always on running days, we struggle out of our sleeping bags at four o’clock. The sandstorm has lost none of its strength. We get dressed in silence, stuff the sleeping bags into their covers, roll up the sleeping mats and while Tanja spreads our hiking pancakes with a plant-based spread, I put our camp beds together in a repetitive routine. (Explanation of the hiking thread, diary overview 10.07.02, day 55 stage three) As daylight increases, the wind dies down more and more. The sun rises above the horizon in its glowing beauty. Its unbroken power displaces the clouds and dissolves them into thin air.

A NIGHTMARE BECOMES A STARK REALITY!

Like many things on this mammoth expedition, loading the camels has become easier. Every handle fits, every belt, every strap, the tail lines, the neck straps, the belly straps and all other tightening and tensioning is mastered by our nimble and now experienced hands in no time at all. It takes us no longer and no shorter than 1 ½ hours to buzz the 1200 kilogram load onto the six camels. Only today we have another day that is different from the others. Hum, hum, hum, the engine of an off-road machine roars near the homestead. “Oh God, they’re not going to let the horses out of the enclosure now, are they?” I hope. Hum, hum, it roars from the hill down to us on the riverbed as a man on a motorcycle actually drives a herd of horses south.

Just last night, Scott, a wrestler from the neighboring station, brought a livestock truck full of horses to Springvale. “The horses have nothing left to eat on the neighboring land. We have to bring them here to Springvale because there is still vegetation here on Spring Creek. They would starve to death there on Davenport Downs. If the drought continues much longer, we will have to transport the remaining 7000 cattle to other parts of the country as quickly as possible. It can’t be long before their lives are threatened too,” Rob told us. Hum, hum, it rattles from the hill, causing Sebastian to suddenly crawl to the side in horror. Hardie’s nose line immediately stretches like chewing gum. He is also forced to move forward, whereupon Jafar, Istan, Edgar and Jasper also change their position. “Now stay where you are,” I scold Sebastian, sprinting forward. I grab him by the lead line and pull him straight again. Öööhhhäää, he whines loudly and reluctantly. “We have to hurry, otherwise we’ll have a nightmare on our hands,” I warn, fearing that Sebastian’s nervousness could spread to his comrades at any moment. Hum, rrrrooohhhhrr, it roars down from the hill as a jeep and the motorcycle keep the charging horses at bay. When a Cessna thunders low over our heads and lands on the nearby runway, the nightmare I had feared becomes reality. Öööhhhäääääää, roars Sebastian, shuffles forward as fast as he can with his bound legs and triggers the chain reaction. While Hardie crawls after his leader, whimpering, Jafar squeals like a little stuck pig. Istan roars like roaring thunder, throws himself on his side with his load and tries to squeeze everything into mush. “The movies! My God the movies!” I yell and race towards him like a detonation wave. “Get up Istan! Have you gone mad? Aren’t you a trained camel? Get up you camel you!” I shout angrily, swinging my plastic pipe through the air. He has barely sat upright again when Edgar and Jasper, now also infected by the general panic, try to break their leg ropes. “Shoo down Jasper! Shoo down!” Tanja commands. “Oh no! No! No! No!” I shout, stretching my arms towards the sky. Like fighting gladiators, we race and sprint from camel to camel to regain control of the situation.

Suddenly the wildly galloping horses, the jeep and the motorcycle are no longer visible. The plane has landed safely and is silent as if it had only been an illusion. Like the days before, we only hear the wind and a silence that only exists out here, far away from human civilization. Öööhhhäää, Sebastian whines again to show us his discomfort and as if nothing had ever happened, suddenly all our boys are sitting there peacefully. They regurgitate their half-digested food and have the rest of their equipment loaded into their saddlebags without a murmur.

LOOK AT THE MESS

As I’m checking Jafar’s tail rope, I notice the boil the size of a chicken egg sitting next to his hip bone. This thing filled up with pus three months ago. When it was ripe, Tanja squeezed it out. In the course of time, however, it was able to fill up again and now it seems to be ripe again. As with Istan, Jafar must have rammed a wooden skewer into his flesh. We assume that these injuries were caused by mulga wood. Mulga wood is known to cause bad, festering wounds that take a long time to heal. I carefully examine the bulging thing. Swipe over it to check if it is the right time to empty it. I press it gently as it explodes like a small bomb. “Oh no!” I shout, jumping back as a fat jet of pus splashes over my freshly laundered shirt. “What’s going on?” Tanja asks. “Oh mess. Jafar’s wound has literally exploded and splattered pus all over me. “Mmpff, mmpffff, mmmpffffffffhiii, hi, hi, hi, hiiii, hiiiiiiii, hi,” Tanja suddenly roars with laughter. Covered in pus, I look at her angrily. “Why are you laughing so stupidly? Look what I look like!” I snort. “Mmmmpfffff, hi, hi, really terrible, ha, ha, ha. I’m glad I didn’t get caught, hi, hi, hi,” she laughs maniacally and dances around one of the trees. “Well, I don’t understand you. How can you be so horribly gloating?” “I’m not gloating. I’m so horrified that all I can do is jump, ha, ha, ha, ha.” “Someone should understand you. I think we’ve been too long in solitude,” I reply and am also infected by her cheerfulness until we’re both rolling with laughter.

DEAD LAND

Despite all the incidents, our train sets off at 07:45. Tanja opens the gate of the homestead. A signpost indicates the distances to Boulia, Diamantina Lakes and the small town of Winton. For a driver, the kilometers seem ridiculous, but for us they mean days and weeks. Just behind the homestead, the branch of Springvale Creek runs through a huge plain, baked to death by the sun. Desolation and heat greet us early in the morning. The thermometer shows 50° degrees in the sun at 08:00 in the morning. A large herd of horses discovers our caravan. Curious, the animals gallop towards us, stopping briefly to look at us from a close distance. The horses snort, prance nervously back and forth, scuff their hooves on the stony ground and then suddenly dash off at a wild gallop. They are wild horses that are called Brumbys in Australia. At some point, a few horses were released. They then reproduced like many other animals and today there are large herds of wild horses. Alex from New Haven has hundreds on his ward. He even sells them to the butcher. He receives 100 dollars per horse. Whether it’s a stallion, a mare or a foal, we leave the herd of horses following us behind a gate. The barrenness of the landscape is unsurpassed. There is no longer any sign of life here. Everything is barren, desolate, deserted and treeless. The skin of the earth is completely bare, just lying at our feet. At 10:30 am, the thermometer rises to 35° degrees in the shade. As there is no shade here, we are already walking under the inhuman temperatures of 56° degrees in the sun. A hot breeze blows at our backs. Willy Willys swirl across the mercilessly tormented country from time to time. Sometimes we come across a group of kangaroos that first look at us curiously like horses and then leap away with great leaps. “What do they eat here?” Tanja asks. “I’d like to know that too,” I reply.

Rufus is allowed to ride again. His paws are sore and it’s too tiring for him on the hot ground. His black fur heats up frighteningly in the sun. We have to do everything we can to prevent him from simply dying of thirst or heatstroke. Although we know that these temperatures are only the beginning of summer, it is not easy for us. On the last stage, we sometimes had to endure temperatures of up to 48° in the shade. The sand in the Gibson Desert heated up to 68° degrees, which is why we soon got blisters when kneeling down.

We cross the border into Diamantina National Park. An abandoned sign warns visitors not to bring dogs, other animals or weapons in here. “Well, that’s exactly what we have enough of,” says Tanja. “It’s good that the ranger doesn’t mind our presence,” I reply. Robert from Marion Downs asked him a few days ago for permission for us to cross the national park with our caravan. “No worries,” said Alex, the ranger.

As soon as we enter the national park, the vegetation changes. Even though everything here has been scorched by the sun, at least there is still dry grass and a few withered plants and bushes. Around midday, the thermometer reaches the 40° degree mark, over 60° degrees in the sun. There is not a single tree to be seen far and wide where we could find shade for our camp. We walk and walk. The thirst is enormous. At 2 p.m. our two 2-liter water bags are empty. Just minutes after the last sip, my mouth is dry, so dry that my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I have the feeling that my esophagus is sticking together. A sore throat sets in and swallowing becomes difficult. Before we know it, we start to suffer from a headache. The entire body seems to collapse.

“Let’s stop and get the big bag of water from Sebastian’s saddlebag,” I say tiredly. Öööhhhäää, moans our faithful comrade as he has to set off. Tanja and I are thirsty and drink until the water shoots out of our pores again and cools our skin. The satisfaction does not last long. I realize more than ever that a person in such conditions, no matter how fit they are, would die of thirst within a few hours. You can’t get far here without water.

After 31 kilometers of walking, we stagger, battered, towards a few sad-looking gidyea trees. We unload our animals under the glistening rays. As soon as the saddles are on the ground, Rufus seeks shelter under one of them, panting loudly. Then we drag everything perishable and the camera equipment to the packsaddles. We quickly put the saddlebags over it as sun protection. It’s not really shade, but it’s certainly better than 60° degrees. Tanja suffers from the dingo bite wound. It burns, but has not caught fire so far, thank goodness. It is not easy for her to lug the heavy equipment back and forth. Above all, it is not easy to lift the heavy camel’s feet to put the hobbles on them.

GIANT MICE!

“Will we get to see one of the Bilbys?” Tanja asks. “I don’t know. It would be nice to be able to photograph such a rare animal,” I reply. Scott, who brought the horses to Springvale last night, told us that the mouse-like creatures are called Bilbys. “Maybe you’ll see a Bilby. They come out of their holes between 22:00 at night and 04:00 in the morning. They actually look like a giant mouse,” he explained. “A giant mouse? How big are the Bilbys?” I wanted to know. “Oh, as far as I know it’s as big as a rabbit, except that its ears are as pointed as a mouse’s. Their mouths are also pointed forward.” “Do they also have a pouch in which they carry their young around like kangaroos?” “I think they do. In any case, they are very rare and threatened with extinction.”

In the evening, a pleasant breeze blows over the barren camp. I lie on the camp bed and watch the sky. I would love to see a Min Min light circling in large arcs in front of us or sitting like a ball on one of the saddles. But I would even rather watch a UFO. Many a person has reported seeing an unknown flying object out here. I don’t think all of them are weirdos. There must be something to it. I would like to have proof of their existence. Of course, I realize that many people would not believe us if I were to report the sighting of a UFO. But to be honest, I don’t care. The main thing is that we have an encounter. I ponder for quite a while, enjoying the stars, until I leave the earthly plane to dive deep into the world of dreams…