First Published in the Beverly Citizen as part of a seven week series “Local Family Down Under”
By Esther C. Baird
Our time in Australia wasn’t all spent along Sydney’s beaches and surrounding towns.
We took quite a few trips, including one near the end of our time down under, into the
Australian Outback. Specifically we visited Wilpena Pound: an unusual formation of
mountains that formed a gigantic ring approximately 50 square miles in size. On a large
scale the range formed something akin to a corral, or what farmers down under call a
‘pound’.
While being in the vast and harsh outback was impressive, the best part about Wilpena
Pound was the wildlife. There were kangaroos everywhere.
They were outside our
cabins, on the pathways, and grazing by our tables as we ate. Imagine if the Beverly
Commons was home to a herd of deer that wandered over to the cafes to beg for food and
slept on the sidewalks outside the library. It was a strange and magical feeling to have
giant and untamed animals always around us. In addition to the roos, there were
thousands of parrots. The flocks were so large that they filled the sky and their calls
made conversation impossible when they flew by.
We took a few hikes while we were there. Of course with our toddler daughter we only
stuck to the well graded paths with minimal climbing. The reception desk recommended
we take the free shuttle into the Pound where there was just the ‘briefest of hikes’. They
said that our stroller could handle the path that went into the Pound so that we could view
the circular range from within.
We signed up for the shuttle and found that we had the whole bus and ranger to
ourselves. Near the mountains and along the various creek beds the red, dusty soil gave
way to a forest setting filled mostly with gum trees. As we drove by, we noticed that
many of them had incredibly wide trunks that looked as if they’d been burnt out forming
caves large enough to stand in.
Our ranger explained that over the course of hundreds of years, the Aborigines who lived
in the land, until driven out, would light fires up against the trees. The goal was twofold:
first it was a place where their coals could stay hot, and secondly at night it provided a
shelter from the gum tree limbs.
“Gum trees limbs?” I asked.
The ranger said, “Oh yes, gum tree limbs fall off the trees for no apparent reason. They
weigh tons and kill a few campers each year.”
We all tilted our heads at the same time and looked up at the maze of gum tree limbs over
us. He then added casually, “We call them the widow-makers.”
He dropped us off at the foot of a craggy, rocky hill and pointed to a nice wide trail.
“It’s just about a 20 minute walk into the Pound.”
We thanked him and asked when we should plan to be back for our pick-up. He said
he’d be back in two hours.
So we set off. The trail did prove to be fairly doable with the stroller and it took us right
through a gap in the mountains and into the Pound. It was a magnificent view only
improved by the occasional Roo bouncing by.
We returned to the pick-up point ready for our ranger to show up. Only he didn’t. We
kept waiting and waiting, but we hadn’t packed lunch and our daughter was growing
tired. Thirty minutes later we gave up and headed back to the cabins on foot.
Besides the fact that I was incredulous that we’d been forgotten in the outback with a
child, it ended up being a fairly pleasant walk – – though we were always mindful of the
gum tree limbs hanging ominously above us.
Finally, about a half mile from our cabins, the ranger drove down the road towards us.
He stepped out of the van and fumbled with his keys gazing out at the trees and rock
formations as if they were family members. “Sorry I’m a little late, but it’s so beautiful
out here isn’t it?”
He clearly loved the place. He obviously would never harm a soul or intentionally cause
an ounce of stress, but he might lose himself in his love of staring at rocks and trees and
oh, say, forget to pick up a family.
For a moment we all stood there. We listened to the parrots and watched the kangaroos.
We were acutely aware that in just a few short weeks we’d be flying home to our hectic,
northeastern lives. Then we smiled and assured the ranger that forgetting us was
perfectly fine and in fact, we’d come this far so we might as well finish the walk back to
our cabins.
He nodded like that had been his plan all along.