Landscapes

March 12, 2002-Wild & Wacky
(photos:Road to nowhere,
Nambung National Park,
Stromatolite colonies & red algae)

To borrow a ditty, “ The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la.” That should have told us something. It’s autumn here now & the wildflowers, they do not bloom in the fall. We saw two clumps of black-eyed Susans & some acacia trees with leftover yellow flowers. But Nambung National Park did not disappoint. It’s where red & yellow sands of desert meet bone white dunes. It’s where yellow desert meets tourmaline green & delft blue sea. It’s where the sea melds into a sky that’s so sky blue there’s no doubt why the color was so named.

We pulled our fly nets over our hats & trudged into the 95+-degree heat. We’d come to see the approximately four square mile area known as The Pinnacles Desert. The pinnacles are limestone formations that were left when tiny shells & plants were compacted into rock & then eroded away by wind & water into sand. The sand further wore away at the limestone until what we see today is a forest of pillars. Mostly tan with some red & pink accents, they reach up to fifteen feet tall. Thousands of them dot the landscape in what some say resemble enormous termite mounds. Others call it a moonscape, but I prefer to think of it looking as if a giant pre-historic bird picked & pecked on the pillars until the desired pock marked effect was achieved. It could also be described as if the randomly scattered protuberances were strewn around the area by an alien race that hurriedly established a cemetery. It was Stonehenge run amok.

Part of our adventure was the approach to the desert park. Of the eight-mile road, the last two and a half miles were unpaved washboard. The result was that our partially consumed bottles of day old Diet Coke achieved a new level of effervescence as they performed a St. Vitas-like dance & jiggled in their holders as if demon possessed. The National Park welcomed us with a typical Aussie sign with dire warnings of imminent death. Evidently there are poison baited fox traps in the park that are also lethal to pets & humans. There was at least one heedless roo kill by the side of the road. It was hard to tell if it had been poisoned or lost a battle with a vehicle. I wanted a picture of it since it was mostly intact, but David got a bit squeamish.

By now, we were on our way to Lake Thetis & tackling yet another unpaved road. We reckoned we’d broken three out of four of the rules of car rentals in Western Australia. We’d driven in remote areas at night, told them we would use the car South of Perth & were now majorly in the North, & we were on unsealed roads. The fourth cardinal sin was to attach anything to the roof. We were ok on that one so far, but then there was that attractively tempting kangaroo carcass.

Stromatolites brought us to Lake Thetis. We had read about them in Bill Brysons In a Sunburned Country & answered their siren song. Fortunately, we didn’t end up car wrecked in the sand, but these miniscule life forms were worth the diversion. Thought to be extinct, they’re among the first life forms on earth & are the only living stromatolites known in the world. These microbial communities are about 1200 years old. Fossils exist elsewhere that are 2-3,000 million years old & date from the pre-Cambrian era. The live in grayish brown mud like colonies around the lake where there’s also a fascinating growth of a beet colored algae. Unfortunately, some tourists have no concept of the rarity of this recent find & have left the international calling card of cigarette butts.

Our drive took us on to the northern leg of the almost completed coastal highway that will soon link Perth to Darwin. It’s hard to believe that in this day & time they’re still so remote. As we entered the Shire of Carnamah, a sign warned “ No New squatter development would be permitted after 18 March 1992.” Several old squatter shacks were obvious. I was glad to see that in this modern & self-proclaimed sophisticated country there was still room for third world concessions. We entered the Batavia Coast region named for a Dutch East Indies Co. ship that foundered on its shores. I wonder how that company managed to stay in business let alone maintain its Dutch West Indies branch with all the ships it lost in the seas around Australia. Dongara was our stopping point for an ice-cream break where the Aussies, famous for tasteless food, outdid themselves in the manufacture of tasteless ice cream. The main street of the town was lined with huge, ancient, looming Moreton Bay Fig trees. David said that it re-defined the term “sleepy town.” I think that Mexico should send a contingent to study with the masters of the undeclared siesta.

As we headed for Geraldton, we were treated to the sight of sheep marching in a line across a field. There was no dog or human in sight. We wondered what compelled them to trek so purposefully. Our answer came when we spotted a lone straggler with a dog hot on its heels. It occurred to me that these sheep dogs are the animal definition incarnate of OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). They doggedly (pardon the pun) pursue their charges & don’t rest until every last one is herded, collected, rounded up, sorted, & relocated or penned. As an admirer of animal intelligence & a control freak, I have a new model to hold up as an ideal.

Toby