Every morning, across the world, a band of intrepid enthusiasts wake up before the dawn and find a vantage point where they can photograph another sunrise. This is one of those photographs. The beach is just north of Batemans Bay at a small village called South Durras. Just weeks before it was taken, a fire raged across the headland in what has become known as the Black Summer. The placid scene says nothing of the real dramas that had so recently occurred but speaks to the determination of nature to move on.
With a nature reserve literally right at the bottom of the garden, I get to see so much wildlife just lazing about in the back yard. Here are a couple of shots of a mother Wallaby and her joey
Mother wallaby is wary of me and my camera and she prepares to take her joey to the safety of the bush. It is half out of the pouch but quickly pulled itself back in as she began to moveAfter a few quick hops she stopped to check that I wasn’t following before she turned again and disappeared into the reserve
After doing the weekly chores about the house there was little time to explore far from home this week. I decided that I could take walk along the southern end of Kewarra Beach and also spent a little time relaxing looking out over the back yard at the wild (and not so wild) life that frequents the place.
A Joey leaves the safety of its mother’s pouch to take a look at the surroundings. It knows that a safe place is always nearby if neededOne of two resident chickens scratching about in the back yard. The eggs they lay make the store eggs seem anaemic by comparisonToby, is the resident cat. As is usually the case, he lives life on his own terms making demands for a scratch or choosing to ignore you as he pleasesSheltered as it is from the winds , the beach at the southern end of Kewarra is like a quiet solitudeA young Fisherman casts his net to catch live bait ahead of a bigger dream of catching a big fish later in the evening at Kewarra BeachJust behind the shoreline there is a forest of mangroves that get wet feet just twice a day with the coming of the tide. It is easy to imagine that hiding in the depths are crocodiles that live this far northThe sun sinks down to kiss the top of the ranges behind Kewarra Beach.
Of all of the places that I have been in Australia, my favourite place would have to be in the high country of the Monaro and the Snowy Mountains. At this altitude, the winters are given to snow and ice and those that come, come with their skis and snowboards to play in the wintery snowfields. But for me, the best of the seasons is the summer when the grass grows long and the rolling hills appear to ripple as the wind blows the waving grass across the slopes.A pair of wild brumbies rest on a metal hardstand in the high country of the Snowy MountainsThis place is the home of bands of wild horses or brumbies, made famous by Banjo Patterson in his ballad of The Man From Snowy River. They are not native to the area and are descended from escaped horses that the European settlers brought with them two hundred or so years ago. They have done well in this hard country and their very success has caused them to be culled to keep their numbers in check. In the early years, before motor transport, they would have been a pool of stock for working horses to be broken from. Today, there is no demand and so their numbers swell to levels that the land cannot sustain.Curiosity overcomes fear for this brumby who wanted to check out the stranger standing taking photos. Fear eventually returned and he suddenly turned and galloped away.
I camped up in this country a couple of years ago with my son and his partner. We drove up from Canberra and through the rolling landscape in the middle of summer. The grass was long and glistened in the wind as we drove by. In the distance, the hills took on a blueish tinge and the tarmac shimmered in the heat of the day. We stopped off at one of two slab timber huts that was built around the beginning of the twentieth century; a lonesome looking place where it’s the owner, a man named David Bradshaw, had lived alone for some twenty-eight years before succumbing to the elements at the ripe old age of seventy-nine
Bradshaw’s Hut is one of two slab and shingle farm huts that have survived from the turn of the twentieth century. David Bradshaw lived in this hut for 28 years before, at the age of 79 he died of exposure on his way home from visiting his brother who lived nearby
The inside of the hut was bare and spartan. It seemed a bleak place to live life alone for all of those years; He never took a wife and died childless. I often think of how easy we have life these days with all of the modern conveniences and how raw they lived back in the day.
The inside of Bradshaw’s Hut shows the meagre way of life for the settlers who farmed the area in the early days.
While the climate was harsh it did provide good summer pastures for the cattle and sheep that the settlers had brought with them. Previous to that the soil had only felt the pads of paw-footed animals. Cloven hooves compacted the soil far greater than the light tread of the wombat and kangaroo
An isolated lifestyle in a hut in the middle of the mountains was maybe commonplace in earlier times. A very foreign existence to the lives we live in Australia todayIn summer wildflowers grow across the high plains bringing colour to contrast the green of the pastures. Many of these flowers grow on woody stems that I guess gives them some strength to ward off the cool winds that blow across these acresIn Summer wildflowers add a bright touch to the alpine landscape. In the harsh conditions, they seem to grow on woody stems among the tall summer grasses
One of many lake systems found in the National Parks of the Snowy Mountain high country
We pitched our tents high on a ridge above one of the many lakes that have been formed to provide water to the Snowy River Hydro Scheme. These are deep and cold and are stocked with trout from the trout hatcheries in the area. Clearly a draw for the many fly and spin fishermen keen to get away for a few days of fishing
Although these horses are not a native part of the landscape here, they have cemented their place in the history that goes with the land. Their success in establishing themselves has led to, often controversial, culling to keep their numbers in check. Even for those who are not horse people, it is hard not to wonder at the beauty of these magnificent animals in this wild space.
Plants at this altitude suffer from the harsh conditions that they face all year round; in winter it is snow and ice while the summer brings high temperatures and little rain. As a result, the shrubs are scrubby low growing woody things and the trees that do grow here often have that tortured shape crafted by the wind and cold. Here in the national park the grasses had dried out and gone to seed. It seemed shorter than that which can be seen blowing in the wind as one drove up the Monaro Hiway. Lichens grow well in this climate, clinging as they do to a range of hosts from rocks to tree branches.
At this altitude and temperature, lichens gain a stronghold on any surface they can. These scrubby shrubs may be benefiting from the protection the lichens would give them from the cold winds.
I woke early after a sleep interrupted by a squalling storm that threatened to flatten my tent, despite being tucked among large boulders. The sun had come up watery but soon had burned off any effects of the night before and the warmth was pleasant on my back as I took a walk around the hills behind the camp. It seems that the animal life that can be seen up here was made up of those that had been introduced as the only other species I saw was rabbits. Again these little guys have made the most of the wild country and have established large warrens all about the banks and mounds.
Rabbits are another introduced animal that lives well in this high country. The ground is pocked with their warrens and sometimes the ground seems to move when their numbers get high. This guy was alone on this day, soaking up the warmth from the morning sun’s rays as I walked by.
A flock of Yellow Crested Cockatoos, with their raucous calls, were checking out the ground for some early morning sustenance. As I came close they flew off with even louder calls as if in the indignation of my presence.
You will find these iconic parrots everywhere in Australia. There was quite a flock of them flying about on my early morning walk.A mare and her foal graze peacefully near the water’s edge as the sun comes up over the mountain ranges. The lakes are deep and cold and reflect deep blue in the morning light.
I came across several brumbies as I made my way across the hills. I also discovered a crisscrossing of trails all over the hills where the brumbies had created single file bare-earth tracks as they made their way to and from their favoured feeding grounds
The ground is crisscrossed with bare dirt trails made by the relentless travels of the brumbies as they traverse from one feeding ground to the next. They go single file, each wearing away the grass with their hooves and packing the soil so hard that the grass cannot get a foothold againThis beautiful landscape was made for those who love to go about in their 4WDs. The baron rocky plains backdropped by the blue hills and cut through with shimmering lakes makes this place an awesome world to get away from it all
Here in the high country, life is controlled by the harsh winters and hot dry summers. Plants are stunted and sparse on the ground. Trees do not grow tall and are often bent and twisted in the winds that blow thru here. It is a different landscape than what you will find on the low plains but it is, in my opinion, some of the most beautiful country that Australia has to offer
