Desert Dork diaries

My last trip took twenty days, 5750 km and pretty much all my energy. Nevertheless, I stopped by and enjoyed the desert, exploring its nooks and crannies. Here are some snapshots.

A day to be grateful

Apparently, today is the day to be grateful to be alive.

There's a house next door where I do my laundry. I went there last Sunday and I went there this morning. There were clothes and washing powder all over the place, but I thought someone was just lazy to clean it up.

After I was done, I went back home and started preparing lunch, when I heard a knock on the door. 'Bring your camera.' This can't be good. I cringe as I walk over the yard as I know there's heaps of snakes around.

It's a King Brown, the second most venomous snake in the world. For a weird reason, they like this place. It's got to do with water, as I'm told. I recall a commotion last night, but I didn't pay much attention – there's always something going on here. And now there's blood and brooms and freak-outs.

Inside the house where I do my laundry – and I can't stress 'inside' enough – was the darn snake. Last night. In the toilet. Right next to the washing machine. Right there! Twelve hours before I was there. Now it's lying dead in the burnt grass outside, the same way I could've ended up.

And people laugh at me when I walk around like a crazy person, watching my every step; flushing before using the toilet. Scary stuff, people – scary stuff. I might as well walk around filthy and smelly.

Working Saturday

Back from the Desert

I'm back. Well, not quite. But I'm getting there.

Physically, I'm in a mining town, an hour's flight away from Perth. Mentally, I'm back out bush, reliving days, hours and seconds.

I'm back. Tired, bruised and humbled. Over 4,000 km crossed in two weeks, and I feel years older.

In the last fortnight, I've felt thrilled, annoyed, happy, helpless, proud, hopeless, satisfied, over-strained, trapped, lonely, supported, limitless, overwhelmed... And that's just a portion of the spectrum.

I've learned a lot, not all of which was enjoyable. But I guess there are benefits to learning from your mistakes. It doesn't always feel nice, but – in the end – it's all for the good.

I don't know what to expect. Back to reality. Being back, I'm afraid life will be boring. 

But am I back? Or was I back when I was back there?

Desert life – or at least a glimpse of it

I'm out bush for three weeks. One week's gone by, I'm at the end of the second one, and there's still one coming up. If I was asked to sum it up in a couple of words, it would probably be: full on.

Don't get me wrong – the experience is priceless, but the stakes are high, too. It takes everything out of you: your energy, strength and sleep, but also your ignorance, attitude and prejudice. You're deemed to change your views, your ways and your approach – at least if your aim is to make it.

I'm sure lots of whitefellas passed through here and headed out with the first light. It doesn't amaze me that people are hesitant to share their lives, thoughts and emotions. But at least it's all transparent, and you pretty much know where people stand. It's not always pleasant, but that's what it's like.

Even just getting a glimpse of the life (even as a total outsider), I can see how hard life is here. It really takes everything out of you – but it also rewards you in many ways. When you go into the store and everyone greets you by your name; when kids yell after you when you're leaving and asking you to stay; when you wake up in the morning and everyone's waiting with smiled on their faces...

Simple life.

'Inside Australia'

I had enough time to take a detour on the way back from my last bush trip, so I finally checked out Lake Ballard. It's always on the way back, but I rarely have any free time – which luckily wasn't the case this time.

Lake Ballard was chosen by Antony Gormley, the internationally-acclaimed British artist, as the site for a major environmental art installation which he titled “Inside Australia”. Gormley had been commissioned by the Artistic Director of Perth International Arts Festival to produce the work in celebration of the Festival’s 50th anniversary in 2003. 

'Inside Australia' comprises 51 metal figures, dotted across seven square kilometres of the salt-encrusted lake bed. Each of the sculptural figures, both male and female, are the result of 3D laser scans Gormley made of Menzies residents, and he refers to them as ‘insiders’. It's apparently completely obvious which sculpture represent whom.

The place is quite eerie in a way, and it makes one wonder how people have been moving and walking and surviving...

Leaving...

Driving back from the desert, I have a weird feeling in my stomach. It's one of those you're not really familiar with.

It hurts, but it shows you that something good's happened. Something important and valuable. Nevertheless, it's news to me.

Something inside me changed. Something in the air changed. It might've only affected the air in my head. But it has.

Too late or too early, I'm not sure — but it's here. That feeling of belonging. Of finding your place. And of having to leave it.

It's that bitter-sweet gut feeling that makes you nauseated and shed happy tears at the same time. But I'm not by myself, and I can't stop on the side of the road and gaze back into what I'm leaving behind.

An Exciting Day - Photo Diary

The field season from the 4WD

It's been busy.

It feels a tad unfair to keep saying that, but it's true. It's no excuse in itself, but it's definitely a reason. When I'm back from a field trip, or even simply tired from a long day at work, I simply have to get lost.

Lost in bad TV, in eating junk food, in playing games online. Yes, very unhealthy and unproductive – and that's the worst part. It took me long enough to start doing something actively, but even riding my bicycle has become quite hard with all the bad weather, as well as some technical issues.

Excuses, I know – but let me slide for a bit longer...

I spent most of the day yesterday lazing around and eating. Yes, eating. I had to pay my parent back, so I was down to my last 12 dollars for almost 10 days. As you can imagine, it turned out into a daily going-through-drawers-looking-for-coins ritual. But I survived.

Preparing cottage cheese with sour cream, spring onions, radishes and garlic, including fresh bread, made me think of Croatia. Well, Bosnia in fact, but you know what I mean. Being that Saturdays are usually the busiest on Skype, I used the time to talk to family and friends.

There's a lot of planning ahead: first of all, I'm going to Croatia for my annual leave in August, so there's a lot of excited people with ideas in their minds. Exciting as hell, as I'll only have three weeks and I don't even want to lose an hour I don't need to. On the other hand, it's hard to organise things from half a world away, but luckily the people are awesome, so they're coming up with options.

Secondly, my sister is going to be coming over for a visit in December/January, which will be exciting. I don't really go out as much as I'd like (and should), so it'll take some more preparing and planning to go to some nice places. That'll hopefully get me out of the house as well. She's working on booking a flight, applying for a visa etc.

Exciting times.

I also talked to my mum, who asked me if the time's running fast. It took me a couple of seconds to analyse that, after which I realised that it actually isn't. The last nine months just flew past, but the time has slowed down in a way – of course, only in my head – let's not get philosophical.


The next couple of weeks is going to be busy. I spent the last week on a very long, but fun survey. We went down to an area where I haven't previously been, so it was exciting to see emus, kangaroos, a snake (scary!), drive over sand dunes, revving through the sand etc.

The next week is going to keep me busy at the office; finishing up my report, preparing for the upcoming survey, and then reports following after that. I'll need a couple of weeks to wrap up all of that, which will make it mid July and it'll almost be time for my annual. Yay!

Oh, and I got myself a new phone – a smartphone – so I'll hopefully be able to update on the go easier. Another yay!

Here's a couple of photos from the last trip (it's very hard to choose), so take a look at what it's like (hover with your mouse to see the description text), have a nice Sunday and simply enjoy...

Desert storm and Lives on threads

It's gonna be a crazy week, I think to myself as I'm standing in front of the calendar white board.

There's a lot going on, a lot of people are involved, and there are surveys and meetings planned all over the place. People, cars, fuel stations, homesteads, keys, satellite phones, potato chips, fucking lamb chops and eggs and whatnot.

I flow in on Monday, do one survey on Tuesday, and start another one on Wednesday, drive out, sleep over and finish it on Thursday, drive back, sleep over and fly out. So much for theory...

Even before we head out, it was obviously going to be a total mess. It's funny how people are sometimes laid back, especially when it comes to them. "Funny", because that's the only sound I can utter.

Pfft.

We pick up the guys at a station where about thirty people live. It's packed with meat ants that bite on to your skin and won't let go. As soon as we head out, all of a sudden there's a cyclone cloud the size of Switzerland in front of us. We, of course, have to drive straight into it.

The guys take it easy because they're used to it, but I see some with their eyes out and think to myself that this is no bueno. We end up in the storm's centre, we have to stope and brace ourselves because the car is rocking that hard and we wait. There's a loud crack and we see one of the side windows is cracked.

It's not hail. It's the wind passing us some stones. We open the other window and keep the broken one from popping out. We keep driving slowly, but the storm keeps following us. The Dutch guy who's running the homestead runs out with a torch and welcomes us to the dongers.

The old guys think there's no way way we can do the survey the following day. The area is full of small lakes anyway, which have definitely filled up and merged together by now.

Luckily, there's only so many large puddles along the way, so we manage to get to the GPS-de rendez-vous point. The guy we're supposed to meet is not there. In my head I see images of him bogged up somewhere in the middle of the desert. If you can call a gigantic flooded area a desert.

We run around, drive around, consult, talk, discuss and do the survey. The guy's arrived with a flat tyre saying it's one of those days. We finish up, make sure the guy's okay and get on our way. Back at the community, the meat ants are even hungrier.

After getting back to where we would spend the night, I try to check how the bloke's doing, but the satellite phone isn't working. I go to bed with a stomach ache and a bit tipsy, and dream a bunch of weird stuff, on of them being the guy ending up dead in the desert.

I talk to the office who checked with the guy's office and it happens that the guy did indeed end up stuck in the desert, bogged up or something. It just makes me realize how much we risk on a daily basis. Over and over again.

I e-mail the guy, hoping that he's all well, type this up and am off to the airport.

Hopefully the weekend will be calm, boring and quiet.

Out in the Field again

It's early morning, and it's dark outside. I'm not sure if it's today or yesterday, but I know I don't like it. Nevertheless, I have to catch the six-fifteen flight and, being that it's four in the morning, I'm not sure whether I slept at all, or just levitated through the two or three hours of sleep that I got.

The airport is unimaginably busy and probably the last place one would want to be in on a sleepy, cold morning - and with no caffeine in the blood stream. Everyone running around with their luggage, probably going for a meeting or whatever. The drowsiness makes stuff more complicated, so it all seems like a big circus.

Getting to the company house in Kalgoorlie doesn't help much, since the Jeep is completely messed up, the trailer can't be attached and it all seems to be getting more and more complicated. It takes us hours to drive around the city, get the mechanics and electricians to fix it all up, and then another six or so hours to drive to Wiluna.

We get to our destination just before midnight, but being completely tired and worn out, I hit the sack and wake up seven hours later. The morning brought some nicer news, especially when I woke up and realized I was surrounded by palm trees. The thing was that the place we spent the night in is a vineyard located around an oasis in the middle of the desert. Now, the desert isn't a desert in a Sahara way, but it's vast and dry alright.

The vineyard accommodation in the desert

The field work went alright, with not so much stuff going off course, and with some of the Traditional Owners recognizing me, hooking up and, finally, sharing some stories. My co-worker told them about the research I did back in Croatia, which they listened to carefully, only to exchange some looks, nod in agreement, and share some of their stories.

We have the same thing, you know...

It felt great! The concerns about getting into the community, having them open up and share, and actually take me in popped into my mind very often. It takes a long time, a bunch of nerves and an open mind, so I can only hope I'm headed in the right direction.

Driving back to Wiluna after dropping some of the guys off

Dropping in for a sammich along the way, with an elderly couple checking out the news

The desert sunset

Shadowed in the desert; taken during the field survey with the whole team

Catching the sunset in the rear mirror

Honey ant habitat and a bit of cow poo

So, after two days in the desert (and some will be disappointed to hear there was no camping involved this time), we took off and, this time, flew from Wiluna back to Perth. No driving, no pain in the butt (literally), and a new experience. The airport is tiny, with only two benches, a toilet and a large scale for the luggage. I took the chance to weigh myself when no one was looking, and I realized I'm gaining some weight. Not much, but still.

I've never flown in a smaller-than-usual plane, so the thirteen-seater looked both fancy and scary. I was proven right when I realized how much that thing dances around up there. It was nevertheless a cool experience to fly in it, seeing the pilots do their stuff and be able to take some photos out of the window, and now seeing clouds only.

The Wiluna airport; number of passengers: 13

The thirteen-seater that took us back to Perth

The reason we're all out there after all - a mine

There was a fly on the plane. I tried imagining how it must've felt. I felt weird myself. Being so far away and so high up made me go all existential, you know. Where am I, what am I doing here, am I like this fly, what's the reason for all this, what if we crash, how would I react and would I react at all, and stuff like that...

Weird, isn't it?