Carnarvon at a gentler pace

Day 2 augured sunshine, and didn't disappoint. But surprisingly, and unfortunately, my legs weren't ready for another vigorous workout. (See also, At last... Carnarvon Gorge, February 2014.)

I know, because I've seen pictures, that the view from Boolimba Bluff is well worth the climb, and with hindsight I wish I'd forced the legs. The Bluff is just over 3 km from Park Headquarters. The track branches off to the right not far after the first crossing over Carnarvon Creek. The path rises gently as far as a steep gully, but apparently there's a sandstone cavern halfway up the steep bit where you can take a breather. From the top there are views up the gorge and over the Great Dividing Range westwards, and over the plains to the east. Don't make the same mistake as I did.

First, we had a leisurely mooch around the Rock Pool, a deep hole on a bend in the Creek downstream from Park Headquarters. The Creek is described as permanently running, fed by numerous streams in the Gorge system. The white sandstone cliffs are porous and act like a huge sponge soaking up rainfall over the highlands, but the water emerges above the underlying impermeable rock. I wonder if the Creek ran throughout Queensland's long Millennium Drought.

This walk was all about birds and trees and reflections and colour and rock and stones.

White-winged Chough

Little Pied Cormorant

You might see a platypus in the Rock Pool – or higher up the Creek – but we weren't early or late enough in the day. I have yet to see my first platypus in the wild, and it's an important box that's not yet ticked.

I was surprised to see a Kookaburra on a ledge high up a rock wall. Was this the same rather portly chap we'd seen around the Lodge? Kangaroos seem happy to share the Lodge gardens with guests, as long as they don't get too close.

In the afternoon we walked, slowly compared to yesterday, to Baloon Cave, which we could access by taking a path behind our cabin along lower Mickey Creek, but which can also be reached along another path further up the main road from the Lodge. Baloon is an Aboriginal word for axe and there are stencils of axes as well as hands on the Cave's overhang (top). Aboriginals are not believed to have settled permanently in Carnarvon Gorge, for defensive reasons and because of lack of food, but also perhaps because it was considered to be a sacred site. They probably used rock from the cave for axe-heads, and artists may have made stencilling pigments from red and yellow bands within the Clematis sandstone.

The forest looked far more beautiful with dappled sunlight creating contrast. I wished our main walk had been similarly blessed. That night over dinner we listed all the plants and animals we'd spotted. I was beginning to conclude we could have done with more time at Carnarvon Gorge. The Moss Garden was a big miss. Water constantly seeps through the coarse sandstone and emerges above impervious shale, providing moisture for a variety of mosses and ferns. The 'garden' is in Violet Gorge which branches off Hellhole Gorge cut by Koolaroo Creek. Hellhole Gorge was closed when we were there. I don't know if this was temporary or not, but I imagine it is a quieter, off-the-beaten-track experience that at once became all the more attractive for being unattainable.

If you're fit and can easily walk to the head of the Gorge in a day, you can camp at Big Bend and then scramble up Battleship Spur for spectacular views. Another full day's strenuous walk is to Devil's signpost. Ask at the Park Headquarters for directions about the route along an unmarked track towards Clematis Ridge.

Having read the first Carnarvon post, a friend asked me the other day how long a stay I would recommend. I replied 3-4 days minimum, and longer if you want time to chill. That's twice as long as we had.

Once you've acquired the impression of unexplored possibilities, you leave with a tinge of regret and a desire to return. I had the same feelings when we departed Kilcowera cattle station a few days in to our Outback trip, and now I was approaching the end on the same note. The weather was beautiful on the morning we left to head back home to Brisbane. Beyond the Gorge entrance, golden grasses almost sparkled, mist created floating ridges, and the prospect of the city was, frankly, rather grim.

This post was last edited on 9 March 2014

At last... Carnarvon Gorge

I'm not sure why it's taken so long to write about Carnarvon Gorge. It's partly because our visit was tacked on to the end of an Outback trip, and I didn't consider it outbacky enough to be included. And there were many issues to do with the Outback – cows eating it; where it begins, and so on – that I wanted to write about first. I can't plan another big trip, however, without finishing off the previous one.

Carnarvon Gorge is in Central Queensland's Sandstone Belt, roughly between Blackwater (east of Emerald) and Roma, north to south, and the Leichhardt and Landsborough highways, east to west. You access the Gorge section of Carnarvon National Park from the Carnarvon Developmental Road halfway between Rolleston and Injune. It's a fairly remote area, but well worth the effort to get there; it's a day's drive from Brisbane. Crossing the Clematis Ridge across the mouth of the Gorge is to enter another world, majestic and mystical; a lost valley.

My favourite explorer Ludwig Leichhardt passed close by, to the east, in 1844. Two years later, Major Thomas Mitchell passed to the west, and named the range after the Welsh hills. Pastoralists were settling in the area by the early 1860s.

Between 230 and 180 million years ago rivers deposited sediment into a huge inland basin in this part of the world. The sediments were eventually compressed into rock layers. Then, 80 to 65 million years ago, the land was pushed up, forming the Great Dividing Range. (In the same era, Australia broke free from Gondwana.) Much more recently (35-27 million years ago), following volcanic activity, basalt covered the sedimentary rocks, since when water has been eroding the rock layers into dramatic clefts.

As we approached the region from Longreach, along the Dawson Developmental Road, the western extremities of the Carnarvon National Park formed a dramatic backcloth to the semi-arid cattle country. Even as we got much closer to our destination, sandstone cliffs seemed to present an impenetrable barrier.

 

We were staying three nights at Carnarvon Gorge Wilderness Lodge: there is also accommodation at Takarakka Bush Resort, where you can camp or caravan. The meals at the Lodge's licensed restaurant were good and welcome after a hard day's walking. The cabins are cute, but between the wooden panels and the tin roof you can see below are canvas 'walls'. We were there in the middle of winter* and night-time temps fell to 3 degrees. There was an efficient heater in the cabin but we didn't want to keep it on all night: by night two I was sleeping in a hoodie beneath blankets and duvet. 

We had two days in which to explore. I wanted to walk up the Gorge in the best weather, but we made the wrong decision. It's tricky, however, because the weather forecast posted is for Rolleston, 110 km away, and I'm sure the Gorge has its own microclimate. (Incidentally, the side canyons are at least a couple of degrees cooler.) We'd expected the first day to brighten up, but it didn't, and the magnificent rock walls stayed stubbornly dull. The sun appeared the second day, when my legs didn't fancy the Bluff-climbing I'd envisaged.

Decide how far you want to walk into the Gorge and which side diversions to explore. Ask locals and other guests for recommendations. You're unlikely to be able to walk to the end and back – and see everything properly along the way – in a day, unless you make an early start. The track is easy and mainly flat, but the creek crossings are not clearly marked beyond the first few (there are more than 20 in all) so you have to choose your stones and feel your way. The advice is to walk as far as you want to go into the Gorge and visit side features on the way back, but I really wonder about this. We thought we had time to reach Cathedral Cave almost at the end (see well-used map below: click to make larger) based on early progress, but the creek crossings and track become more demanding beyond crossing 16, where the Gorge narrows. After a late picnic lunch and a look at the art, we had to virtually power-walk back in order to call in at our chosen side attractions. And we had to give the Moss Garden a miss, especially as the light was fading, which was disappointing.

Allow time before you start to visit the National Park Headquarters where there's plenty of info plus helpful people to answer questions about weather, fauna and flora, walks and camping if you're doing the 86-km Carnarvon Great Walk**.

The main track starts just beyond the Park's HQ. You cross Carnarvon Creek almost immediately, via easy stepping stones. You climb up away from the water and through tall open eucalypt forest. It's like walking through an aviary, the birdsong is so striking. The birds in the Gorge seemed to inhabit their own zones: first the lorikeets, then the friarbirds, sulphur-cresteds and currawongs: swallows and wagtails are everywhere. We soon disturbed a roo taking morning tea.

 

The other-worldliness was augmented by Carnavon's Macrozamia cycads, which have no common name. They surround the cabins and hover in huge clumps in the early stages of the walk. Their flowers have to be seen to be believed. Carnarvon Gorge is also known for its rare and fabulous fan palms, which can reach 30 metres.

 

The Creek narrowed and widened and narrowed again, with no shortage of photo ops along the way. I constantly bemoaned the lack of sunlighting.

And so we reached the massive wind-eroded overhang known as Cathedral Cave, 9.3 km from the Park Headquarters and an extensive Aboriginal art site. It is believed that the net patterns were produced by overlapping stencilled narrow Vs blown between fingers held apart, a painstaking process. The Bidjara and Karingbal peoples gathered here to perform ceremonies and rituals, having walked long distances and collected Macrozamia nuts along the way. The images tell their stories. If you don't walk as far as Cathedral Cave, then check out the Aboriginal Art Gallery, 5.5 km from the Park Headquarters, which has many more stencils, engravings and free-hand paintings, which unfortunately we didn't have time for.

Ward's Canyon – named after a couple of fur trappers at the turn of the 20th century – was about halfway back, near crossing 9. There's a steep but short climb up steps into this side gorge which is another world again, and noticeably cooler. A permanent source of water enables King Ferns to flourish in a rainforest remnant that survived as Australia's climate became drier and hotter. The ferns have grown like this for about 300 million years. They add to Ward's rarified atmosphere and sense of isolation. This is the only location in inland Queensland where these ferns are found, and it's a must-see.

 

The next phenomenon is the Amphitheatre, half-a-kilometre down the track. This almost defies description. Walking quickly and climbing up to Ward's Canyon meant my legs were baulking at the prospect of a 1.6 km detour, but to have missed this would have been a huge mistake. Behind a soaring cliff is a 60-metre-deep chamber – with great acoustics if you're inclined to sing a few notes – formed by water eroding major joints in the sandstone. On the floor are yet more ferns. If you don't like heights, you may not fancy the 10-metre ladder to reach the extremely narrow crevice that is the Amphitheatre's entrance. But it's OK, I promise.

The last four kilometres home were quite hard, and seemingly endless. We had walked at least 20 kilometres, and although Boolimba Bluff was tempting for its views, the legs were not willing. Back at the Lodge, I felt a beer hadn't been so well-deserved since our Cradle Mountain marathon on Tassie.

So, what to do on day 2?

* the peak season for visiting Carnarvon Gorge is March to October. There is a risk of flash flooding during the Wet. Wilderness Lodge is closed from mid-November until the end of February
** For highly experienced, self-sufficient and fit bushwalkers, used to navigating in remote and rugged country with the appropriate equipment

Whatever next

I went to get myself a coffee, wearing my Sea Shepherd T-shirt.

A man in a ute said: 'You're wearing the right shirt.'
I smiled.
'They just got themselves in a whole lot of trouble,' he added.
'Someone's got to,' I said.
'I wish they'd had a cannon on board,' he continued, 'to blast the Japanese out of our waters. You've got to respect boundaries.'
'I wish they'd bombed them out of the water,' I suggested, perhaps getting a little carried away.

He was talking territorial waters, while I was talking moral boundaries. But he cheered me up no end. He'd engaged, you see.

It was hard not to feel downhearted yesterday after reading the results of the fourth CSIRO survey, details of which were published in The Age (above), into Australians' attitudes to climate change*. The subject ranked 14th in a list of 16 issues of general concern – obviously way below items such as cost of living and electricity prices – and 7th out of 8 in a list of environmental concerns (which, bizarrely didn't include loss of biodiversity). More than 80 per cent of those questioned believed that the climate was changing, although a quarter thought temperatures were stable and would remain so, obviously deaf to the findings of the World Meteorological Organisation (2013 was the world's 6th warmest year on record) and Australia's own Bureau of Meteorology (last year was the warmest in Australia in a century of record keeping).

Many participants inflated assessment of their own efforts to improve the environment compared with other Australians – a phenomenon known as a self-enhancement bias. While more than 50 per cent recycled household waste and had switched to using more environmentally friendly products, only 10 percent had engaged in a political campaign about an environmental issue or contacted a member of the government about climate change. And there were no questions such as, 'Have you reduced the number of vehicles/dogs you own in order to minimise your carbon footprint?' (I include dogs here not because I am dogist but because there are 50 million more dogs than all other domestic animals put together in Brisbane and just feeding them increases carbon emissions significantly.)

Yesterday I had a chat with a lady from the Wilderness Society who called to see if I could help, financially, with their campaign to fight plans for coal mining in the Fitzroy River catchment in The Kimberley, WA. Premier Barnett – he of shark-culling fame – would love his legacy to be that of transforming his state on the back of mining. The Kimberley styles itself as Australia's last great wilderness – which I thought was Tasmania's claim, I must confess – and its pristine beauty has long been on my list.

This renowned landscape is under threat from a number of potential transformations, however. Shale gas exploration companies can't wait to get their hands on seemingly vast supplies in the Canning Basin, having got the nod from the WA government. The LNP has a dream to dam the Margaret River, a tributary of the Fitzroy, to help water their fantasy of Australia's 'northern food bowl'. And then, almost inevitably, there's coal.

Rey Resources' Duchess Paradise Project will comprise a 'low-impact' slot mine with a life of about ten years, and then possibly an underground mine (for another ten years). I'd never heard of a slot mine, which involves a trench (or slot) being cut into a coal seam at an optimal point where the seam is closest to the surface, thus minimising the stripping ratio (the ratio of overburden to mineral deposit). This Project would also include an accommodation camp, a coal handling and preparation plant, a 30-km access road to the Great Northern Highway and development of an export facility at Derby.

Environmental assessment of this Project is ongoing, and Rey Resources don't have a mining lease yet, so it's early days. The Wilderness Society need to prepare, however, hence their calls to members now.

There seem to be many environmental campaigns to wage; threatened communities – of people and animals and plants – to be supported; in old mining regions and in new. Some days I don't know where to start; which to choose to research and write about; how best to allocate time to be of help to whom. And some days the whole business of trying to get the Australian people on side seems like a hell of an uphill struggle.

But I take heart from a groundswell of realisation† that the Coalition is 'taking an axe' to the environment, in the words of Labor Opposition spokesman Mark Butler. Australia's global reputation has become embarrassing since the LNP came to power: I can't put it better than The New Zealand Herald** who this week asked, Is Australia the world's most environmentally unfriendly country? I almost feel pity for Greg Hunt, the Feds' environmental man. But you need to speak out, man. You surely don't want to go down in history with the rest of a bunch of goons peddling denial and disingenuity as the men who trashed Australia's extraordinary landscape for the short-term gain of their mates in mining. And get this country's fine scientists back on the job while you're at it.

The man in the coffee shop knew what had been happening in the Southern Ocean. He knew his government had promised to send a ship to sort the Japanese slaughterers and then diverted it to stopping some other boats. (Note to self: wear Sea Shepherd T-shirt more often.)

* http://www.theage.com.au/environment/climate-change/survey-puts-australians-climate-change-concerns-way-down-list-20140206-324ok.html This includes a link to the report itself

† http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/feb/05/wa-shark-cull-backlash-grows
** http://www.nzherald.co.nz/world/news/article.cfm?c_id=2&objectid=11197024

Hoping against hope won't save the Reef

In a different era, I voted tactically in a couple of general elections in the UK in the mistaken belief that the Liberals could beat the Conservatives in true-blue, stockbroker-belt heartland in the county of Surrey. I hoped with all my might against the inevitable; in the face of blind faith – my mother always said Tories would vote for a donkey if it had a blue ribbon on it; and against the odds. By election day I believed that, this time, there was a chance reason rather than self-interest would prevail. I was wrong, of course.

In my new home, I espouse environmental rather than political causes, and I still have hope. A big difference is that I now commune with like minds on social media; and I blog in order to raise the profile of environmental battlers. In a way, all this communing raises my hopes further. Eventually, the coal mine, or the coal-seam gas field, or the port expansion, or the forest clearance gets approval from the so-called Minister for the Environment, either at state or Federal level. Then I realise that, contrary to my wildest dreams, there are still not enough people on side; prepared to give up aspects of their privileged lifestyle (thus reducing emissions); appreciating the importance of biodiversity; believing Australia has a global responsibility to protect World Heritage.

Like tens of thousands of people who called and emailed, I rang the Great Barrier Reef Marine Park Authority (GBRMPA) to register my disapproval of the latest plan to dump dredged spoil in the marine park as part of the expansion of Abbott Point coal terminal. But hundreds of thousands didn't call. Just as hundreds of thousands didn't join the nationwide climate march last November. I would like millions to engage.

Friday was the delayed decision deadline. The Marine Park Authority approved dredging and dumping once more. Hopes dashed once more. They are accused of succumbing to pressure from Canberra not to scupper resource development. Many politicians in Canberra are under pressure from a powerful mining lobby.

Apparently, almost 90 per cent of Australians believe the Great Barrier Reef to be Australia's most inspiring national icon*. (One of the others, the koala, is in equally serious trouble.) They're an environmentally complacent bunch in Canberra, relying on Aussies not getting off their arses and complaining, or demonstrating, or even debating.

The Reef needs rather more proactivity than any of those, however.

Activism requires huge effort, I'm afraid. Last weekend, instead of gallivanting around the Scenic Rim, I should have been at Maules Creek in the Leard State Forest in New South Wales, supporting those trying to stop the construction of an opencast mine**. Meanwhile, I should be moving my money from the ANZ bank, big funders of coal. It's hard, though, isn't it? A lot of work; hassle even. As well as hope.

One can hope that coral will adapt to warmer water, increased acidification, fertiliser run-off, sedimentation, toxic spoil, and predatory starfish. And that adaptation will happen in time. One can hope that in just over a year's time Queenslanders will elect a more democratic government; and in two and a half years Australia will elect a Federal government that isn't in denial about anthropogenic climate change. One can hope that the value of fossil fuel investments will collapse because China and India have enough coal of their own or, hey, they're investing in renewables. One can hope that all new houses here soon have to be fitted with solar panels, by law. That somehow sea levels won't rise and heatwaves won't become more intense and extensive.

I hope that my children's children won't have to face insurmountable problems that I helped perpetuate by not speaking up or making my presence felt.

This weekend there have been protests coast to coast in Australia against Western Australia's decision to cull sharks that may be a threat to swimmers off their shores. Someone I know posted a link to http://www.supportoursharks.com/ on Facebook. As I went to hit the 'like' button, I noticed a comment that ran along the lines of, 'it's OK to support till your loved one is taken...' If you go to the SOS website you will see that education is one of three pillars of their mission.

I hope that better education – and science education in particular – produces a better-informed basis for debate about key environmental issues. And I hope conflict of interest† between decision-makers and those who stand to gain from resource development is recognised and rooted out decisively.

In the meantime, GetUp! are going to challenge the GBRMPA's decision in the courts. They need funds††. Tick.

* go to this page to download CSIRO survey as a pdf http://www.csiro.au/Organisation-Structure/Flagships/Wealth-from-Oceans-Flagship/ORCA/GBRsurvey.aspx
** http://www.smh.com.au/environment/water-issues/antimining-blockade-steps-up-a-notch-at-maules-creek-20140128-31jsg.html
† http://www.abc.net.au/news/2013-10-29/reef-board-members-in-conflict-of-interest-claims/5052558  

†† https://www.getup.org.au/campaigns/great-barrier-reef--3/reef-fighting-fund/reef-fighting-fund
With thanks to Jim Grainger for the photo