On leaving Longreach, we drove to Beryl Station where we had an
absolutely wonderful time with Ron and Rhonda and the two boys that we
met at Ceratodus. The last 100klms. to the front gate of the station
was along a very dusty dirt track road consisting of two deep wheel
indentations separated by a high grassy mound. Because of the height of
the centre mound we had to offset the line of travel so that our tyres
were riding on the sides of the tracks. To drive normally would have
caused the axles on the vans to drag through the dirt leaving us exposed
to significant damage. The 30klm. track from the front gate to the
homestead was much better than the public road as it was maintained by
Ron who had not long before graded it to a smooth dirt, albeit dusty,
track.
By the time we arrived at the station, the vans were
covered, inside and out, with bull dust. Over the next couple of days
the girls did their best to clean them but it was nigh on impossible.
Our parking spot for the stay was close to the home cattle yards where
some 620 steers were being held and as they moved around they filled the
air with yet more dust. Notwithstanding these slight inconveniences,
the stay at Beryl was an absolutely unforgettable experience.
We had a quiet time on the day of our arrival, just
investigating the station homestead and buildings. Next morning we went
fishing in one of the dams and had a bar-b-que lunch which included a
number of red-claw yabbies that we caught in another dam the previous
night. On our way back to the homestead from fishing, Ron showed us how
to divine for water.
I must admit I was a sceptic;
however Ron taught us how to find underground streams just by looking at
the foliage of the coolibah trees that abound in this area. (We were
at the time only about 80 kms from Winton where Banjo Patterson wrote
Waltzing Matilda.) He pointed out the flow of one such stream, then
got a forked branch from one of the trees. He demonstrated how to hold
the branch and when Rob started walking where he suggested, in spite of
her best endeavours, it started bending down towards her toes.
I
was still sceptical, reinforced by the fact that absolutely nothing
happened when I had a go. However, after Ron stood behind me with his
hands on my sholders and I followed Rob's path, I could hardly hold the
fork in my hand. I am now a true believer.
With a hand full of salt, Ron showed us how to test to
see if the underground stream was brackish, by cutting notches in the
fork he showed us how to tell the depth of the stream under ground and
with a piece of wire he showed us how to tell which way the stream was
flowing.
Every notch he cut in the fork meant a depth of
10 feet. At five notches, the pull on the fork by the underground
water was still strong and after the sixth notch there was nothing. The
stream was therefore somewhere between fifty and sixty feet below
ground.
He then shaved off the notches with his penknife
and showed us how a shaved fork reacts to underground water depending
on whether the shaved side is facing upwards or downwards (i. e. the
pull of the water is with or against the grain of the wood). Hold the
shaved side up and the fork pulls down. Hold it downwards and the fork
will pull back over your shoulder.
To find the direction
of the flow, he held a bent piece of wire in two hands. When he passed
over the stream, the wire swung in the direction of the flow.
I
could do everything Ron was doing up until the time he shaved off the
notches. It would pull downwards but for me it would not pull upwards.
However, I know for sure that he was not pulling a fast one as
everything he did, Rob was able to do. The fork swung over her shoulder
and the wire twisted in the direction of the flow.
In
the afternoon Ron, B1 and I went off to look for a problem Ron is
having with his water lines. The property sits above the Great Artesian
Basin and all of their water comes from underground. You can imagine
the amount of water needed on the property when you consider that it is
currently running something like 6000 head of cattle and 2000 head of
sheep - and a cow can drink 25 litres of water in a minute. There are
approximately 60 kms of water pipe running underground from the bore to
various parts of the property. It would be an impossible task to find
problems if Ron was not a water diviner.
After dinner,
Ron put on an impromptu concert. Rhonda bought him a guitar for his
birthday a couple of years earlier and he taught himself to play it.
He plays and sings country and western music. We also had a look at
some of his trophies and photographs. Until he retired a few years
earlier he was a champion rodeo roughrider. He has some spectacular
shots of himself sitting atop horses that were trying their utmost to
dislodge him. Rhonda also showed us some photos of his family. His
dad is a native Pacific Islander and his mum aboriginal. They are a
most respected family in Mundubbera, their home town, having recently
celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary and receiving a congratulatory
note from a number of dignitaries including Prime Minister John Howard.
Next morning we got up at six o'clock and B1 and I
(in a LandCruiser utility) headed out with Ron (on motorbike) and Rhonda
(on 4WD motorbike) and three of their cattle dogs (on foot) to muster
620 steers from a far paddock (about 12,000 acres) and drove them down
to the cattle yards next to the house. While we were out there, I
looked around and realized that for 360 degrees I could see the horizon.
I also realized that everything I could see was a part of Beryl. A
bit awe inspiring when you consider that the station is not large by
local standards. It had not long earlier been purchased by the current
owner for $2m to fatten steers born on his Hughenden property where he
runs 14,000 braham-X breeders.
Anyway, helping muster 620
steers that didn't really want to come with us was not too bad for a
couple of urban cowboys. It took us about 8 hours to find them
scattered in the paddock and bring them about 10kms to the yards. All
that for Ron to sort out the top 47 head to send to the market in
Longreach with 19 held over from the previous week. This happens every
week when the sales are on and the road trains can get through. After
he has done that, he has to count and check on the ones staying behind
then drove them back to their paddock.
I feel like a
real cowboy now that my riding boots are all scuffed, my jeans all dirty
from helping B1 pull a bogged sheep out of a dam on the way back with
the cattle and my new cowboy hat all dusty from the cattle walking in
front of us.
While we were out, Rob and Sherry looked
after the two boys, helped them make birthday cards for their mum whose
birthday was on the following Tuesday and cooked our lunches and
dinners. Don't know how Rhonda does it. She is the boy's school
teacher (with the help of the school of the air), helps Ron with the
cattle and gets most of the meals. With the nearest town being about
70kms away and the nearest neighbour 14 kms away, it is hard to get home
deliveries.
Anyway, as I said earlier, it is amazing the lovely people you meet along the road.
Tomorrow we head for Winton where we hope to catch up with a couple more cousins I have not seen for many, many years.
No comments:
Post a Comment