I have just been for a walk and cannot wait to tell you about it. This was not one of my regular morning walks through the surrounding homestead paddocks. I have trudged those paddocks for over thirty years now and know them as well as my own face. I love walking through them, even in hideous seasons I can still pick my way along a creek somewhere and squint a little to block out the worst. At those times, you must focus on the silvery logs and stumps, worn smooth from the age of time itself, standing like sculptures in a bare landscape. Or the patterns the little channels and gullies make flowing out and in from the creek beds, marking their time until the floods come again.
However, this morning, we followed a path we are planning for visitors. This meant we ventured into country we usually pale at having to muster through, for it is rugged and spectacular which translates to rough on a motorbike and losing sheep down the gorges and jump- ups.
It is an entirely different experience to walk through country you know well, without having broken down or to be looking for stock or fixing a fence. We were there purely to absorb the landscape and so we saw the landscape through fresh eyes. With a light pack on my back, Mr. Moble dropped us off and we set forth to climb up onto the tableland. The surrounding country was smudged in blue-green hues, softened by the gidyea burr covering the normally red gibber country. Naturally the first thing we spotted were sheep, they walked along ahead of us for some time, it is so quiet when you are on foot.
After a few easy up and downs, we were on top. Now, whilst this tableland is hardly the Great Dividing Range, it is breakaway country from the rather less well-known Grey Range, which is the water shed between the Bulloo River and the Lake Eyre basins. As our country is overwhelmingly flat, you don’t need an oxygen mask sized hill to give you a great outlook and this is just what we were presented with. We were both quietly impressed.
Some statuesque Bloodwoods, Corymbia opaca provided a park like feel as we ambled along amongst drifts of small purple Foxtails, Ptilotus leucocoma and a smattering of cornflowers, Brunonia australis and blue daisies, Brachycome spp. It is amazing to see this country covered in green, we are so used to all being red, red, red. The first of the Butter Bushes, Senna Spp were dotted in yellow and there will be a russet display of Hop bush, Dodonaea viscosa up there in August. The Bloodwoods are just coming into bud as well, their green tinged seed pods looked stunning against a cloudless blue sky.
There is a wonderful stillness the bush imbues you in; a stillness that wraps around you and calms you from within. A quietness too, despite the chatter of the birds; how special to only hear the birds and the breeze on your face. It was pure pleasure to be out and about up there and before we knew it, we were looking for our enchanted tree, a special picnic spot from many years ago, to share our flask of tea under.
Flashes of colour flicked past; some parrot too quick for me to focus on. I had annoyingly left my binoculars behind, which made the bird spotting frustrating but the walk much quicker. All too soon we were dropping down the jump-up and wandering through our last kilometre or so before we arrived at Bannerman’s Waterhole on the Moble Creek.
We had chatted our way through an easy two hours of walking, enjoying our landscape in a time-honoured way which meant taking the time to honour it. We imagined a glass of champagne at the end and lunch set out under the big old Coolibahs beside the waterhole. The reality was Mr. Moble arriving to collect us which was much appreciated even if there was no champagne.
Miss London is walking the Exmouth to Lyme Regis trail in England as I write, it makes me happy to think we are out walking together, even though we are not. I do hope you enjoyed coming for a stroll through my big garden this morning, I enjoyed sharing it with you,
The Moble Gardener.
