Twitchdate 15th july 2012. In front of us lie 3 weeks and a vast
continent to explore (well, a part of it anyway). Binoculars, check.
Field guides, check. EPIRB, check. Down jackets, check, Brown trousers
check. Bicycles, Tish-bang! Basic plan: wiggle waaay west into South Australia to do one of the classic outback dirt tracks, mostly visiting
places i've never been before. Who knows how many feathered life-forms
we'll encounter along the way. Bridge to engine room; Lets go!
Day 1 Sunday 15 July. Sydney to Sandy Hollow.
Only a 3 hour drive to this sleepy little town in the lower Hunter Valley, but
given our general level of disorganization we did well to make it just
before the sun dipped. Once again we arrived on a day where there was
no cook at the pub (Thurs, Fri and Sat only). But the caravan park has a
lovely camping area, complete with horses. On the morning
twitch I got brush turkey whilst chasing a lyre bird. Also got restless flycatcher going through the whole scissor-grinding routine
along a fence line to flush insects. Other notable ticks included grey
crowned babbler, both pardalotes and yellow and brown thornbills,as well as some "coastal" locals (last chance for these). By
the time we hit the road we had about 40 species in the bag.
Knife-tailed eagle, Sandy Hollow
Day 2 Monday 16 July.
Sandy Hollow to Trangie, just west of Dubbo. Went the squiggly way through the Goulburn River national park- the
top pinch of the blue mountains. At the caravan park got great evening
views of classic inland parrots; red rumped, mallee ringneck,
cockatiels, and blue bonnets, and our first yellow throated miners. The
corvids had conspicuously changed from Aust raven to little crow.
Also prominent, squabbling in the flowering gums above the toilet block
were little friarbird, blue faced honeyeater and noisies. Even a couple
of rainbow lorries, unexpected this far inland. The count had
progressed to about 60. It was going to be mostly dry country
specialists from here on in.
Day 3 Tues 17. Trangie to White Cliffs. Going hard west. Anita had Wilcannia in mind. I wasn't sure this was a
great idea. In any case we stopped many times en route to see what we
could spot in good looking patches of cypress scrub. After a few strike
outs we hit the jackpot: speckled warbler, inland thornbill,
weebill, and the magnificent red capped robin. At Nyngan shocked to get
brown honeyeater. Being prevalent in the coastal scrub of Coolum I had
always assumed they were a coastal species. But here they were in the
main town park singing their little heads off. Just before Wilcannia we
crossed the first bridge over significant water. Close to the Darling River now. A bunch of rufous song larks, native hens and
snakebirds later, we headed into town as the sun was getting low. We
had originally planned on camping at a tent on the map 50 km out of
town, but this was in fact little more than a truck rest stop, so into
town we went.
Red capped robin
Zebra Finches, female and male
Wilcannia has been making frequent appearances on the 7:30 report in
recent times for all the wrong reasons - alcohol figuring prominently. The years of boom, where it was
a major river port are long gone. A real shame as the river at this
point is lovely, adorned with mature river red gums and loads of birds
(glossy black cockatoo flew overhead down the main strip, also way out of
range), and a bunch of lovely old buildings still remain, including the
hospital. Population now only a couple of hundred in what is reduced largely to
a shanty town; a few steel-grill windowed pubs, boarded up or burnt out
shops on the main strip, and residential dumps with locals giving
the hairy eyeball. The only motel was full. The lovely campground with prime
river frontage was empty - usually a plus, but in this instance not a
good sign. The ground was tacky underfoot, as the river had
spilled its banks only days beforehand. As we started putting up the
tent a car-full of locals did a drive by. That was enough. With tent
back in car we set sail for the only port within cooee, White Cliffs, a
90 km diversion to the north-west, and an easier target than Broken Hill, some 300 km west. We had aimed not to do any driving at night, and here we were doing just that. Driving into a setting sun on a road full of roos,
emus, goats and black cows. Yes, black cows, like black holes under the
head lights. At least the road had been recently sealed. We
eventually got there, slowly, somehow collecting just a single kangaroo.
I went back to finish him off with the mallet, and he took fright and
bolted. Still not sure he survived as he left quite a dent in the side
panel, poor fellow. That rates as the most stressful stretch of road
i've ever driven.
White Cliffs, an opal town, looked considerably smaller than Wilcannia. Only lights in a sea of total blackness were the pub and the corner store opposite. The pub was
manned by three women, and a fourth on the wall displaying her not-insubstantial assets. A few locals adorned the tiny bar. Having got a
room the bar lady inquired whether we'd eaten, "across the road
then, now!". It must be said that the steak sandwiches and chips consumed at the pub were excellent, washed down by
several brews as we chatted with locals before we heading off to bed
for our latest evening yet (approx 8:30). The motel rooms out back
were constructed from freezer panels, to keep the heat out in summer,
but more reminiscent at this time of year of mountaineering
huts i've stayed in, given how fast the temperature drops once the sun
quits. Most of the locals have solved the temperature issue by living
hobbit-like under ground or dug into the side of the few low hills.
The next morning was a desert bird frenzy. White winged fairy wrens,
zebra finches, red backed kingfisher, singing and spiny cheeked
honeyeaters, diamond doves, chestnut crowned babblers, white breasted
woodswallows and our first budgerigars! Stunning to see them in the
wild. The ubiquitous white plumed honeyeater also was prominent. And
we gained an education in the red posterior of the female mistletoebird! Took us
a while to figure that one out. After a reasonable coffee (for Anita
it seems Coogee, like Queensland, is everywhere now ) it was time to get
going.
Hard to get close to these guys - white-winged fairy wren (male)
Day 4. Wed 18. White Cliffs to Mutawintji. 130km of dirt!
This was our first real off road test, on a road which had only just
opened - 4wd only. We started the day as nervous newbies and felt like
seasoned beard-strokers come the end. Conditions oscillated from
pan-flat red clay, where you could whip along at 100, to orrible gravel
or corrugations where 30 felt like a flogging. And loads of water
crossings. That should read mud crossings. As clearance isn't the
strength of the Subaru (Impreza awd, circa 2000), I just kept the
wheels on the crusty/slimy ridges and hoped for the best. The low range
gears were engaged periodically where, albeit traveling diagonally at
times, the little tractor just kept grinding. Loads of emus and goats
on this stretch. According to the White Cliffs locals goats are the
new flavor of range-lice, superior to sheep and cattle in many respects.
And they have better road sense. Mutawintji national park,
which was attained in the late afternoon, turned out to be a real gem.
Lovely campsite with bench and fireplace, and a bunch of friendly grey
nomads to exchange banter with. Had we not done the White Cliffs
detour we would have missed it altogether.
Road to Mutawintji
A roaring fire, with wood carted on the roof cage, dulled the chill of
what was a frosty night. Most notable in the eve was the constant
hawking and screeching of what we presumed were barn owls. Also in mega
abundance were yellow throated miner, spiny cheeked honeyeater,
weebill, mistletoe bird, little corella, red capped robin, and mallee ringneck. Others we got but didn't expect were variegated fairy wren
and Horsfield's bronze cuckoo (new tick) and the out-of-range fantailed
cuckoo.
Mutawintji dreaming
Horsfield's bronze cuckoo
Day 5 Thurs 19. Did an excellent 7km loop walk. Lovely eucalypt-filled sandy
gorges with quiet burbling pools, contrasting with arid sandstone hills.
Gorge highlights were, once again, brown honeyeater, singing
honeyeater and mistletoe bird whilst up the tops we got red capped robin
and black honeyeater and it's unmistakable "feeble peee"
call. Other ticks included chestnut rumped thornbill and
striated honeyeater. The return to camp was punctuated by drama as a
brown goshawk exploded onto a bunch of zebra finches, catching one and,
after a brief de-feathering, devouring it whole in the branch above us.
Views of mulga parrot bid us farewell and we disappeared down the dusty
track en route to Broken Hill, a steaming hot shower, and pizza for
dinner. An ulterior motive for staying in Broken Hill was the
discovery, halfway along the aforementioned walk, that the aftermarket
spare battery I brought for my camera was rejected by the camera itself
(computer said no), despite in all other respects being identical. I
was pleasantly surprised when the proprietor of the only camera shop in Broken Hill proclaimed, "no worries, I'll have one sent up from
Adelaide tomorrow morning, 10 am". And so it happened.
Mutawinji from the tops
Day 6. Fri 19. Broken Hill to Wilpena. A quiet transition day on the birding front as we crossed into South Australia, although we did pick up southern whiteface. Great views of
the Flinders Rangers as we approached. We camped in the expansive
non-powered sector of the Wilpena Pound Resort, formerly a massive
cattle station that now makes its bucks from eco-tourism rather than
the weather-dependent vagaries of cattle, sheep and rainfall. The pound
itself is a elevated bowl-shaped escarpment, so named as there is only one way
in and out - a natural fenced paddock of massive proportion, but with
the cliff faces dropping off and facing out. I got the spare battery
charged at the pub as we stoked the evening fire.
Day 7. Sat 20. Wilpena. The day started on a quest to bag a recently split-off species of grass wren with a
very restricted range - short tailed grass wren, which only inhabits the
spinefex slopes of the Flinders, and is most easily nabbed via a
trip to Stokes Hill (a 40 km round trip), so the field guide proclaimed.
This took a bit of finding though, as one of the pivotal roads was now
sealed, so we ended up on the wrong dusty track for most of the
morning, although we were rewarded with elegant parrot, more views of
mulga parrot, and what was becoming the ubiquitous red capped robin
amongst the inland Cyprus forests. Also bagged white browed babbler,
giving us the trifecta on the babbler front.
We eventually found the barren summit of Stokes Hill after grinding up its 20% slopes and parked aside the only other vehicle, whose occupants
were there for the same reason and had just spent a freezing morning
trying to get the same bird, unsuccessfully. We were no luckier, but had fun tracking down what turned out to be plump examples
of Richard's pipit. The ones back east seem more stretched.
The daily grass-wren hunt, Stokes Hill
Mid afternoon was spent on a walk up the outer side of one of the bluffs
of the Pound. Excellent views of inland thornbill, and bagged the
sublime yet poorly named grey fronted honeyeater (new tick). Near the
summit we had to work a bit,using the call from Anita's iPhone app, but
eventually got the aptly named shy heathwren. We finished the day with
another unsuccessful dig for grass wrens back at Stokes Hill.
At the rim of the Wilpena Pound bowl, and looking in.
Day 8. Sunday 22nd. Wilpena. Once again, we started the day off with some freezing hours on the sides
of Stokes Hill, unsuccessfully. With that out of the way we opted for
another walk, this time into and across the Pound to a low point on the
far side of the bowl, approx 18 km total. Lovely contrasting terrain, from
mature river red gum, to cypress forest, then mallee scrub of diminishing
size as we started the climb at the far side. Apart from
more red-capped robins and babblers, we picked up yellow plumed
honeyeater in the middle (new), and at the incline at the far end got
common bronze wing, white eared honeyeater and another newbie for us in
redthroat. To celebrate we shifted beer o'clock to the fire-heated
cavern of the resort, where batteries were once again charged, before we
backed to camp, showered, and had another mudge meal that couldn't be
beat.
The poorly named grey-fronted honeyeater
Day 9 Monday 23. Wilpena to Lyndhurst. Back on the road, winding north then cutting across to the west of the Flinders Ranges. Of course, went for one last unsuccessful dig at Stokes Hill to kick things off. Not much to speak of birding-wise,
although the scope finally got a work-out to scan the far shore of a few
dams to pick out hoary headed grebe, hardhead, and first glimpses of
the most stunning male orange chat (new for us) and black fronted
(g-string) dotterel.
Lyndhurst was the smallest town we'd stayed in thus far, and marked the
junction of several classic dirt track possibilities: Strezleki directly
east, and Birdsville and the Oodnadatta to the north, which then split
about the shores of the lake Eyre basin. Lyndhurst comprised a hotel
and literally only a couple of other ramshackle buildings. The pub
pretty much covered all options, from paying for tent sites to booking
flights to see lake Eyre. Manning the bar were the pilot and an English lass on a working holiday, who looked a little shell shocked by the
whole experience, maybe partly cause she was not leaving till
mid-December. At least she'll get to see the place when it is really
hot. This was not an uncommon phenomenon. Most of the barmaids were
euro blow-ins confronting the reality of several months in a one
horse town. The oft-used justification that at least there was nowhere
to spend the coin they were earning was not entirely convincing. But
if they were after something completely different, then mission
accomplished.
Lyndhurst, and on the Strezlecki
At this stage we'd decided for various reasons that we'd opt for the Oodnadatta (north west) rather than the Strezlecki (hard east) track.
But with a little time up our sleeves we rattled our way up the Strezlecki for 25 km to go for chestnut breasted whiteface at a site
also recommended by McBride's field guide. Of course, dipped out on the
whiteface - detecting a trend here. Saw some stellar wedge-tails
though. We learned that truckies refer to them as bush-pelicans - much worse to hit compared with kangaroos and emus. Because they are
slow to get going from road kill they apparently end up through the truck windscreen and into the drivers lap.
bush pelican
Day 10. Tues 24. Lyndhurst to Coward Spings. The morning twitch unearthed some great birds only a few 100 meters from
the pub, most notably pied honeyeater and white backed swallow, new
ticks for both of us. We headed north to Marree, the true junction of the Birdsville and Oodnadatta tracks. En route we stopped at the now-deserted town of Farina. Lovely old relics, and fabulous bush camping. Mental note for
next time. Also bagged chirruping wedgebill, yet another new double
tick.
At Marree we made the decisive left hand turn onto the dirt that truly
defined the start of the Oodnadatta, and as we entered the moonscape the
theme from 2001 magically came around on the iPod set to shuffle. It
was an emotional experience. The Oodnadatta follows the path of the
old Ghan railway, which used to link the south with Alice springs,
although this was disbanded in the early 80s and is now barely
recognizable in most places. The real genesis of the the route, however, is
that it followed a series of springs that the Aborigines used to
navigate for time immemorial.
Life on Mars
The goal for the day was Coward Springs, another 130 km down the
stretch. Plains of nothing and everything. Just when you think you are
trapped in an orbit of nothingness, in the blink of an eye everything
is different. The surface, the clouds, the light, reflections, the roll
of the hills, with tree lines, ridges and low table-tops revealing themselves then hiding. The mood was tempered by whatever was coming out of the speakers, or
simply accompanied by the rattles and squeaks of the vehicle. Traveling the Ood proved to be a bit of a
dream sequence at times. As with most of our traveling days, we were on
the slow-road in the sense that whenever something looked of interest
we'd stop and have a sticky, which often involving a bit of a trudge, with
bins and camera in tow. One of these stops, to check out some sort of lark (our fist definitive
brown song lark) also revealed a chat supermarket, with dozens of
crimson (new tick) and orange chats dancing about us, and a fox,
interested for other reasons. A later stop at a bore dam, surrounded by
cows, a few thickets and dozens of zebra finches, on closer inspection
also threw up a collared sparrow hawk, also a first for both of us.
Luckily for the finches said sparrowhawk flew off empty-taloned. Nabbed pink-eared duck at another dam stop.
Usually we would be
trundling along by ourselves, for hours on end, but occasionally a plume
of dusk heralded the approach of another vehicle, or several in convoy
(peak hour). Most were of the mega 4wd variety.
Peak hour on the Oodnadatta
Further along we stopped to photograph a particularly pale falcon on a
post, and after closer inspection thought it might be a grey. The grey
falcon is a bird which, having read Dooley's book and his failure to tick
it, I gullibly took to be a hoax as wryly
suggested (even crossing it out in my first field guide!). However, it
does apparently exist, albeit rarely seen, and is similar to brown
except has grey bits (as opposed to brown) , and yellow highlights.
Numerous recent sightings in the area reported on the internet spurred
our excitement. Close inspection of digital photos did indeed show grey
cap and bright yellow cere and eye-ring, notably absent from browns in
both field guides we had with us (Simpson and Day, and Morecombe), but
there was no denying that the shoulders and primaries carried too much
brown. Left us wondering if hybridization between browns and greys might occur.
orange and crimson chats, and grey-brown falcon
At another point we rose over a large sand dune and the magnificence of Lake Eyre South lay before us. It was literally like childhood memories
of a trip to beach on the central coast. Despite the southern lake
(the smaller of the two) being only 25% full, it was still an
edge-of-continent experience. Whilst aware that the Oodnadata skirted
the edge of the southern lake, I didn't really expect we'd be able to
see it. Other access points require some pretty serious 4wd action, so
it was a real bonus when it sprang into view. We stopped at several
sites to gawk and take pictures. We later learnt that taking to the air
was unlikely to provide too much more detail, and as most of the flocks
of birdlife have moved on with water levels in decline (they reckon in 3
months it will dry out) we didn't feel the need to splash out on an aerial
review.
Lake Eyre
Coward Springs turned out to be one of those fabled oases in the desert.
Appearing out of nowhere, and marked by some old casuarinas and palms. Excellent camping with open fires and a spa thrown in. Yes, a
thermal spring adjacent a wetland, only 100 m from camp, and jetting in
at mid 20s. Just what the body needed. Spotless crakes were literally
viewed from the spa area. An absolute must for anyone traveling the
Ood.
Howard Springs wetland, just over the brush fence from the spa
Day 11. Wed 25. Coward Spings to William Creek. Having heard dingos howling through the night, an early start was rewarded with a fantastic sunrise and a pair of
brolga gliding low past the campsite. Our morning trundle picked up
black winged stilt, little grass bird, more spotless crakes and a bona
fide brown falcon. We tracked him down to see if he too had traces of
yellow bits. He did. Alas, no grey falcon the previous day. In
tracking down the brown we experienced something that one often gets
birding - looking for one thing and ending up with something completely
unexpected. We inadvertently flushed 4 barn owls from a thicket, and
got excellent pics to boot. First time the mudge or I have had a good
look at them. Probably rates as bird of the trip for me. We celebrated
with another dip in the spa.
With only 80 or so km to William Creek we took our time, having a peek
at every nook and cranny. This included multiple walks on "gibber plain",
which is basically nature's version of pebble-crete, except that the
stones are larger, and stretch as far as the eye can see,
punctuated by the odd bit of tussock or thorny shrub. With the sun
behind you gibber looks like the surface of mars. Looking into the
sun the stones turn black to reflect an alternative version of hell.
Somewhat paradoxically the surface crushes softly under foot, which
goes a long way in explaining why these inland tracks are virtually
impassable after heavy rain, sometimes for weeks. The object of our
gibber walks was, of course, gibberbird, a sparrow sized chat that
spends its existence on the gibber. How it survives the roasting heat
of summer, let alone winter, is a mystery. Despite many spots of having a go on the
gibber, we never did tick gibberbird.
On the gibber
We did see some spectacular salt plains and mound springs - impressive
lumps formed by a thermal spring whose mineral content is deposited via
evaporation, akin to caving in reverse. On one of the salt lakes we
scoped about 20 ned necked avocets working the waters for brine shrimp.
We also got spotted harrier and our first look at cinnamon quail
thrush.
William Creek, like Lyndhust, was also a one pub town with foreign
chicks behind the bar, but with a larger aerodrome (about 5 planes in
the paddock) catering for the masses who would drive or fly in to see
the lake. We pitched our tent next to the runway and took refuge in the
pub for the eve to escape the winds which had picked up through the
afternoon and were now blowing hard. We pitied a party of 3 cyclists
we'd passed a few hours earlier, who had to ride into this very wind.
We fared it would take them another few days just to gain William Creek.
Cycling hell, mtb style
By this stage of course we were getting pretty grotty. A fine layer of
dust coated everything inside the car. The camera was full of it as well, a product of changing lenses 10-20 times a day,
also not helped by the fact by this stage the wide-angle lens cap had gone
awol. Good thing the kit isn't top shelf. Showering at this stage was
to some degree counter-productive, given the very salty taste to the
bore water on tap, and rust streaks adorning the backs of toilets,
sinks and shower fittings. I had given up on washing my hair at this
stage, and Anita was starting to complain about my smell. We were going
to need a bona fide motel detox sometime soon.
Day 12. Thurs 26. William Creek to Oodnadatta. We topped up with fuel and headed on
for another 200 km stretch to Oodnadatta itself. Lots of varied
terrain, but large chunks of gibber, which again failed to yield gibber
bird despite numerous sorties. A bore stop finally yielded excellent
views of both hooded robin and cinnamon quail thrush, akin to a
stretch limo quail. Also inspected some of the old Ghan
railway crossings. We rattled into Oodnadatta, the largest settlement
we'd seen in some days, but decided to press on for another 80 km in
search of nicer camping than what the barren Ood caravan park could offer.
Our destination was a tent on the map within a property off the road to Coober Pedy in a region called the Painted Desert. This turned out to be
well worth the effort. Lovely bush camp although a little blustery,
with some rain thrown in for good measure. This forced us to
temporarily abandon the fire to down dinner in the musty confines of the
car with crunchy rice. But it was still tops.
Hooded robin after swallowing a ping pong ball. All in the painted desert.
Day 13. Friday 27. Painted Desert to Glendambo via Coober Pedy. Another cool
windy day beckoned so we hit the track early, getting some lovely views of arid
hills and formations whose sides are etched with different shades of
creams and ochres, hence the painted desert moniker. We even managed to
finally get a half-decent view of one of countless grass wrens
which had been teasing us with their squeaks for the entirety of the
dirt track experience. After digi-pics were inspected thick billed grasswren was our much considered
conclusion. Tick.
Further down the track we contributed unwittingly to our second view to a
kill. The rattle of the car flushed what we suspected was a female orange
chat, but could well have been gibberbird given the terrain (they look nearly identical). We slowed to watch it settle just ahead. Simultaneously we spied a hobby
materialize from nowhere, cutting across the gibber at altitude 1 metre
to try to catch the chat, which it eventually did after a series of
precision aeronautic swoops and dives in the heavy cross wind. Once its
position was surrendered, there was no literally no place for the chat
to take refuge.
We were now close to Coober Pedy and the end of the big dirt adventure
when we felt a sudden softening on the right. Our first
puncture, ironically on a pretty good sector and, after 900 km of dirt,
just 12 km shy of Coober Pedy and asphalt which extends to Sydney. So
that's why we lugged a spare all this way. We reflected on how the dynamics of the trip
might have changed had this happened 500 km earlier. An hour later we
were sipping coffee, catching up on the interweb (Coogee being everywhere), with fresh rubber on the spare. As with Oodnadatta, Coober Pedy really didn't impress (what a dump!), but i suppose it's what is underground that
are the main attractions, be they hotels, galleries, or opals.
The inevitable puncture.
We pushed on, although this time heading south-east, officially on
the return leg. We stopped just outside town for one last crack at a chestnut breasted whiteface hotspot, and naturally enough dipped
out, but did get white fronted honeyeater, another newie for the trip
list and a rarely seen dry country specialist. We bombed down the highway for another couple of hours to pull up
stumps at the mighty Glendambo roadhouse, where another salty but
excellent shower was enjoyed, along with steak, chips and a clean bed.
Day 14 Sat 28th. Glendambo to Clare. The day started with an extensive pit stop. Topped up the radiator,
added fuel, and while adjusting tyre pressure noticed a bulge in the
left rear - a blow out waiting to happen. So before we had gone
anywhere we were back onto the new spare tyre. A couple of hours later
we were in Port Augusta looking for a place which dabbled in tyres on a Saturday arvo. Fortunately we found one, and before we knew it we were
back on our way, but not before adding silver gull (that's the common
seagull, for you non twitchers), caspian tern, and banded stilt, another
newie for the mudge and I. We headed east, across the Remarkables range
before steadying a more southerly course for the Clare Valley. We made Clare having travelled through some absolutely stunning green rolling
countryside that reminded me more of Tassie or NZ than Ozzie. Picked up
the Adelaide race of crimson rosella and jacky winter on the way. At
the death we finished through some very heavy rain,and one of the best
rainbows i've ever seen, opting for a second motel and pub dinner combo.
Even got to watch a bit of the olympic road race on the teeve before
we crashed. Go Stuey!
Day 15 Sun 29th July. Clare to Gluepot. After another motel snooze that couldn't be beat we headed south west to
the Gluepot nature reserve (still in South Australia, just), a mallee
property bought by Birds Australia 15 years ago and now well on the way
to recovery, harboring a bunch of rare stuff including malleefowl, which
of course we didn't manage to see. As it's name suggests, getting in
on the 50 km of dirt is not something to be contemplated in the
wet. Over the next couple of days we got a swag of almost 40 excellent
dry county ticks, most we already had, but did manage to add crested
bellbird (with its fantastic call and spunky mohawk), chestnut quail thrush, brown and white-browed tree
creeper, and our old friend golden whistler to the trip list, which now
trickled over the 150 species mark.
Gluepot mallee and spinifex, with Splendid Fairy Wren in the middle
Day 16 Monday 30th July. No serious kms in the car, but about 15 on foot = sore feet and early
beer o clock. Although we dipped on malleefowl, the white fronted
honeyeater, which under any other circumstance is regarded as a rarity
and a fine tick, became the pest - not only ubiquitous on the chosen
track, but alerting all other living things to our approach. We bagged
splendid fairy wren at days end, which, as its name hints, is truly
splendid to behold.
Day 18 Wed 1st Aug. Gluepot east to Hattah-Kulkyne national park. We exited Gluepot, despite backtracking 15 km to retrieve beanie, which I left on the car roof prior to departure (I have form on
this - wallets, binoculars, you name it). We departed South Australia
into north western Victoria to perhaps the last place we could have any
chance for malleefowl, and another grass wren - mallee grass wren to be
exact. But as we have learnt, whenever a destination is advertised as a
good place for X - not a chance. Only the second frosty night for the
entire trip was followed by a magic morning where we got blue bill duck, Australian shellduck, brown-headed honeyeater and fantastic looks at
regent parrot (new tick!). On the lake we also spied the most enormous
water rat i've ever seen, webbed feet and all.
Day 19 Hattah-Kulkyne to Griffith. Having resigned ourselves to dipping out on all the mallee specialists
we headed back across the vast western flat expanse of NSW to Hay, then
via backroads to Griffith, where we spotted some good raptors; swamp
harrier and kick-arse little eagle.
Day 20 Griffith to Cowra
Just east of Griffith we went to our favored Copaparra National Park. We assumed the serious
4wd-ing would be over, but the approach roads were in terrible
condition due to recent rain, so we didn't spend too much time here, but we did get A-grade peregrine falcon perched (totally unexpected), and
bar-shouldered dove on call. On the run towards Cowra we made the
inspired decision to pit-stop at the West Wyalong poo ponds and nailed
pied cormorant, blue bill duck again (always a pleasure), Australasian
coot and plumed whistling duck. We got the divine double-barred finch
on the run in to Cowra. Not a bad day of transition.
Day 21. Cowra to home. Our 3 week tour was coming to an end. The count stood at 170. There
was still a chance to add to this number before heading back over the
mountains in the dark. First stop was the Cowra Japanese gardens, where $27 entry
looked like it was going to be money poorly spent till we got blackbird
and silvereye at the death. Hence, at $13.50 each these rate as the
most expensive ticks of the trip. We then backtracked 30 km to the Conimbla National Park where we hit a purple patch on a 4 km walk
through predominantly ironbark forest and gained red browed finch, white
throated tree creeper, buff-rumped thornbill, varied sitella, eastern
spinebill, and the hard-to-get Turquoise parrot. On the way out we
also ticked the similarly hard-to-get and spectacular diamond firetail,
bringing the count to 179. A great tick to finish on, and time to head home.
Spotted Pardalote (male up top)
Diamond firetail, number 179. Even i can see the red.
Now such a number can be collected on a 24 hour event in the Hunter in
spring, but we largely stuck to the far inland at a time of year when
the migratory birds were absent, habitats were generally arid, and days
were short. We didn't tick any mega-rarities, but really enjoyed the
time away, each seeing about 25 species we'd never seen before, and a
unique part of the country. Whets the appetite for more.
I feel like I've had a pretty good break. Time to shave off the facial growth, now tinged with a couple of chinny grey patches, and pucker
up for some hard yakka back at the bench (which i blame in part for
aforementioned grey patches). For the record, in three weeks we
covered some 5900 km (approx 1000 km on the dirt), tenting it 13 nights, motelling it 6 nights. We
hit one kangaroo, and suffered one flat and one haematoma. The half
cage on the roof was the smartest pre-departure purchase although one of its 4 attachment points
finally fatigued during the last couple of days. It did ferry more than the prescribed weight. More attachment points
required for the next one. Consuming pies in every port of call had me
gain a kilo or two. Anita, who kept to egg sandwhiches managed to shed one. Despite the time of
year (down jackets mandatory) we only suffered two nights of frost. I
fired off over 2000 shots with the new camera (thanks to Smarty for great
advice), which will cull to a good selection of keepers. Next on the
horizon for me is hopefully getting something out of the phage-display
experiments i've been struggling with at work (in the few days before returning i had
work nightmares!), and getting fit as quick
as poss for another tilt at the Scott24 solo at Mt Stromlo in early Oct.
Captain twitch-pants signing off.
