| “The Northern Flinders Ranges exercise a subtle attraction to return upon any sensitive person who once visits the region.” Sir Mark Oliphant in: Sprigg, R.C., “Arkaroola-Mount Painter, The Last Billion Years, p. 6 |
Some of my friends in Ireland and Germany do argue that I should have read the above words before my first trip and taken them as a warning. As it happened, I only read them on the occasion of my first visit in 1987 and I have found them to be absolutely right. Tonight, I was going to arrive at Arkaroola for the 4th re-visit since 1987. On all those occasions, Ian, the longtime manager of the small tourist resort had been only too helpful. Although known as temperamental, I had only experienced his best side. Many longer bushwalks would have been far more difficult without the loan of his old and battered four-wheel-drive or other practical assistance in whatever way. Thus it was only right that I should put in a good day’s effort to arrive at his farewell party in time. And some effort it was going to be!
“To the newly arriving traveller, the region’s immediate scenic impact is one of exhilaration. During World War II, a … pilot ferrying in Premier Sir Thomas Playford, Professor Sir Marcus Oliphant and other V.I.P.’s summed up these impressions most vividly. You could never miss the place. Coming after the ordered, sinuous structure of the central Flinders Ranges, Arkaroola – Mount Painter offers contrasting, stark, rocky chaos, and chiselled alpine confusion. Its red rocks and serrated peaks somehow just stand up and go crazy.”
ibid, p. 7
Right now, still more than 100 km away, it was just me standing up and going crazy. I had left Copley at 6.30 a.m., the road being still invisible in the darkness, except for the small patch of light sent out by a humble bicycle lamp. Instead of being able to enjoy the approaching sunrise, I had to keep my eyes fixed firmly on the ground. During recent rains, cars had rutted the track deeply. Going uphill at slow speed, spokes, handlebars, pannier bags and my tired head were ruthlessly thrown about in a maze of crisscrossing ruts which were ‘somehow just standing up and going crazy as the all of the mountains around them. Deep potholes, sprinkled in generously, provided for continuous shake- ups and the provision of patches of loose gravel ensured further exhilaration through ‘road-surfing’. “Cavan County Council, those bumpy Irish midlands roads, all is forgiven!”
Leaving Copley, the road climbs steadily for quite some time, and during the first two hours I made little progress, to say the least. 18km in all, was the distance covered, only 112 more to go. If I continued at this rate, I would have to celebrate my own little party somewhere down the creekbed! However, gradually the road improved and shortly after Angepena Homestead I heard the welcome roar of a road grader restoring the rutted track to a comfortable dirtroad. Hopeful that the remainder of the journey was going to be somewhat easier, l turned towards the creek at the foot of Mount Mc Kinlay for lunch.
I was now sitting on Nepabunna Aboriginal Land close to the Aboriginal settlement of Nepabunna. In 1930, pastor Wiltshire had secured an agreement with Mr. Ray Thomas, owner of Balcanoona station, whereby 2 square miles of the Balcanoona property were handed over to the mission as a home for Aborigines. Preceding this settlement, there had been problems with the lease holder of an adjacent property who did not want Aborigines camping at waterholes, thus keeping stock away from what he perceived as his waters near Mount Serle. Today, Nepabunna is a small Aboriginal settlement and the former Balcanoona homestead has been turned into National Park Headquarters since the establishment of the Gammon Ranges National Park.
Having passed Nepabunna some time later, the uncommon sight of two spoked wheels moving along without any sound of an engine startled a herd of about 30 feral horses which galloped away from the road at great speed, but, their curiosity finally winning over the first attack of panic, they turned their track into a sweeping circle and proudly followed the “treadly”, until I stopped to have a closer look at them. As I continued again, they followed, and as I stopped again, they stopped, too, their heads high in the air, eager to sus me out. We played this game for a little while until they lost interest and, at high speed, galloped back towards Nepabunna.
“Private Brumby’s horses were the first to run wild, and his name is still used to describe them. Private James Brumby came to Sydney with the New South Wales Corps about 1794 and later settled on a land-grant near Windsor, where he bred horses. In 1804 he went with … Patterson’s colonising expedition to the Tamer Valley in Tasmania and his stock had to be abandoned.”
Rolls, E.C., “They All Ran Wild”, p. 435
Since this incident in 1804, many horses have either been abandoned or have escaped, building up a population which by now occurs over about half of Australia.
“When present in large numbers, the Brumby can be a pastoral pest, destroying fences, fouling watering points, and consuming pasture. Many are shot in the course of organised control measures and utilised as pet meat. It appears that such killing constitutes selection which has led to biological improvement of the surviving stock.”
Strahan, R. (Ed.), “The Complete book of Australian mammals”, p. 491
About two and a half hours later I passed through Italowie Gap and then enjoyed a rewarding freewheel towards Italowie Creek.
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