The Lost and Found Collection Page 15

  “Tell me, Professor Madison, do I understand correctly there are several dozen tribes among the Aborigines?”

  “Yes, Dr. Walker. Just up here in the Northern Territory there are about a dozen different tribes.”

  “Please, call me Jake. The thinking seems to be they’re all descended from the same original group who came here by sea. As they spread out across the continent they formed tribes based on family groups or clans. Is that your understanding?”

  “As far as I know. Anthropology is your field, Dr. Walker.”

  Rebecca Davenport took advantage of the pause to ask, “Isn’t that the same thing that happened with the Native American people, Dr. Walker?”

  “Jake, Becky. To answer your question—it’s more complicated. The genetic evidence suggests there are at least three or four separate original groups who migrated to the Americas at different times, all within the last fifteen thousand years or so. This is supported by linguistic, archaeological and other scientific evidence.”

  “Oh, I thought the original people crossed from Asia over a land bridge between ice ages, spreading out from there.”

  “Yes, some of them did. The ancestors of the present day Athabasca language groups which include Eskimos in Alaska and Canada and the Navajo people in the south western United States, among others, have a well-defined ancestry in East Asia and Siberia. The evidence suggests there were other sources of people groups from farther away in Central Asia, Eastern Europe, possibly even from the Mediterranean region. So, some would’ve walked, others may have come by sea. The Inca’s and others were building pyramids in Central America at the same time as the Egyptians. Is that a coincidence? Exactly how and when the first inhabitants arrived on the continents isn’t clear.”

  “That is different from the Aboriginal people.”

  “That and other things, like the oral traditions and creation stories.”

  “How so, Jake?”

  “In the Americas there are a variety of creation stories told among the various different tribes. I believe all of the Australian Aboriginal tribes share the ‘Dream Time’ and Rainbow Serpent creation story. Is that right?”

  “I don’t know. Do they?”

  Jake shrugged.

  “It’s hard to keep up with the latest research and discoveries. Another thing I find interesting is the Native American tribes were often at war with each other. Some of them actually were given or adopted tribal names like ‘enemy of all’. This didn’t occur among the Aborigines did it?”

  “I don’t know. I think the tribes were separate and distinct, but generally cooperative. They had the occasional falling out with each other, but inter marriage was common. It still is.”

  Jake sighed.

  “There’s so much to learn, and so little time.”

  “You seem to know more on the subject than any American I ever met, mate.”

  Jake winked at Becky.

  “I’m just curious by nature.”

  Professor Madison didn’t appreciate the yank’s informal overtures toward Becky.

  “Are you saying the Aboriginal People of the Americas have only been there for about fifteen thousand years, Dr. Walker?”

  “Yes, Professor, that’s what all available evidence suggests.”

  “That’s less than half as long as we know the Aborigines have been in Australia.”

  Jake nodded.

  “You see why I’m so interested in this dig? If it turns out to be genuine and as old as you suspect, it would predate anything in Asia, Europe or the Americas. As far as we know, it would predate ancient Egyptian culture which began at about the same time as the native peoples of the Americas at the end of the last Ice Age. Even the most ancient Chinese culture began less than twenty thousand years ago. This could be a major discovery, Professor.”

  The Professor raised his beer bottle.

  “Well then, here’s to discovery, Dr Walker. Tomorrow we step off into the Never Never. Maybe we’ll find the Bunyip.”

  “What’s a Bunyip?”

  “It’s an Aboriginal term generally considered to mean some sort of evil creature or spirit. There are several theories about how it came about. Like most Aboriginal myths, it’s associated with water. Back home in Victoria, it’s supposed to inhabit billabongs and rivers. Scientists think it was a myth brought about by ancient memories of now extinct fauna, viewing fossils, or maybe seeing some sort of aberration like a seal swimming in a river. It’s just another mythological mystery of ancient Australia, Dr. Walker.”

  “I see, a water demon, hmmm? I don’t expect we’ll see much water where we’re going.”

  “That’s a fact, but facts don’t matter when you’re dealing with a bunch of silly superstitions.”

  “I suppose you’re right. Still, it seems all ancient cultures have or had similar stories. Take for example the original Loch Ness Monster tale. There’s supposed to be a dinosaur type monster in an African river, and others in Canadian lakes. However these stories about monsters get started, there must’ve been some basis for them. Dragons, demons and monsters are ubiquitous on every continent.” Grinning, he added, “At least that’s what Bigfoot told me.”

  “You say ‘monster’. I say non-sense. There’s nothing to them.”

  Jake Walker shrugged, holding up his own beer bottle.

  “Ok then. Here’s to the Bunyip!”

  Three

  As the last of the luggage was being loaded into the rented utes, the morning sky was just growing light. The graduate students were dishevelled and bleary from the previous night’s revelry. A shiny tanker truck rumbled to a stop in the parking lot of the Hall’s Creek Motel. The driver climbed down and walked over to the group.

  “G’day. I’m looking for a bloke named Walker.”

  “I’m Jake Walker.”

  “G’day, mate. Here’s the potable water you ordered. It’s to be delivered to a place called, Yarramalong Station. I’m supposed to follow along with you, if that suits your fancy.”

  “Let me introduce you to Professor Madison. He’s the man in charge.”

  Professor Madison was flustered.

  “What’s this all about? I don’t know anything about a water delivery.”

  “I’m sorry, Professor. I should’ve mentioned it. I took the liberty of contacting Yarramalong Station to see if they might need anything to make it easier accommodating us at this time of year. They mentioned getting sufficient water out to the dig site would be challenging. I figured this was a good way to alleviate the situation.”

  “They assured me there would be enough water for us all.”

  “Maybe there is, there at the station, but we’re going to need water out at the dig site, too.”

  “That’s what the jerry cans are for...”

  “I’m sure you’re right, but there’s no harm in having extra water in the desert, is there?”

  “Well, err, no, but who’s going to pay for it?”

  “It’s all taken care of. I thought it was the least I could do.”

  “I see. Well then, no worries. Let’s get moving. We have some two hundred and forty kilometres of mostly bad roads to drive today.”

  When they left the highway, the Tanami Track proved to be a broad, dusty, red dirt road. So dusty, the line of vehicles was forced to spread out some distance from each other behind the lead ute. They saw no other traffic and the only roadhouse they passed was closed for the summer. The terrain was nearly flat, with occasional rocky stretches and the odd hills mostly seen in the distance. Vegetation was limited to tufts of dried spinifex grass, sparse brush and wispy, stunted eucalyptus trees.

  From her seat beside the Professor, Becky turned back toward Jake.

  “Lonely country up here isn’t it, Jake? Desolate. I can’t imagine anything more barren.”

  Nodding, Jake replied, “Yes, it’s beautiful. I love the desert.”

  “Why? There’s nothing out there.”

  Jake smiled.

  “That’s only
how it seems, Becky. Actually, there is abundant wildlife in most arid regions. Right now, an amazing variety of insects, reptiles, birds and small mammals are watching us rumble by in our self-made cloud of dust. You have to get out there in it to really appreciate the desert.”

  Professor Madison spoke up.

  “Well, Dr. Walker, I’ve been watching the temperature climb since we left Hall’s Creek. It’s approaching thirty-eight degrees out there. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll continue to enjoy the refrigerated air here in the vehicle. We’ll be out in it, soon enough.”

  “Yes, I’m looking forward to it. Still, I know what you mean. On the other hand, it’s a dry heat. Heat and humidity combined are much more dangerous. Think what a harsh life the local Aborigines must’ve endured. They adapted and learned to live off this land. There are still people living in the region, aren’t there?”

  “Yes, but they mostly live in settlements with utilities provided by the government.”

  “There’s water to be found out there. The Aborigines learned where and how to find it. I believe they continue to teach the old ways to each succeeding generation.”

  “You may be right. I think bush craft is still important in their culture.”

  Becky spoke up, changing the subject.

  “Charlie, how much farther is it to Wolfe Creek? I’d like to see the meteor crater.”

  “We’ll be there in about an hour. I figure to stop at the crater on our way back. I don’t want to waste the time today. Besides, this late in the year it’ll be too hot to enjoy the scenery, or the hike.”

  “Isn’t it close to where we leave this road to drive west toward Yarramalong Station?”

  Professor Madison nodded.

  “How far is it to the station?”

  “Yarramalong Station is about sixty kilometres off this track. The road is primitive and will slow us down. From here it’ll be at least another couple of hours.”

  “Well, after all the water and tea at breakkie, some of us will need a rest stop. I’ll bet there’s some sort of trailhead dunnie at the meteor site.”

  “I presume it’s inevitable?”

  “It beats the other options, mate.”

  “Yes, I suppose it does.”

  “Come on, Charlie. While we’re there, can’t we check out the crater?”

  Professor Madison chuckled.

  “OK. I suppose that, too, is inevitable.”

  Four

  As bad as the Tanami Track was, the road into Wolfe Creek Crater National Park proved even worse. In the distance the edge of the Wolfe Creek Crater appeared to be a collection of low hills a few hundred meters away, undulating in a slight mirage.

  When the dust settled, the whole group was relieved to stop moving and exit the vehicles.

  The once shiny water tanker was now a dull, dusty red, as were the three utes. Still, although the sun overhead beat down with fury, the heat wasn’t immediately oppressive.

  Jake Walker was talking to the lorry driver when the group reassembled after visiting the dunnie. He studied the surface of the parking area.

  “There’s no sign of any sort of vehicle being here recently. The only tire tracks are ours.”

  “Right-o, mate, what do you reckon? Sane people don’t come out here at this time of year,” the truck driver observed.

  “Why? It’s the holidays and it’s not that hot.”

  “This late in the year, summer holidays, the rains are coming, mate. If a monsoon catches us we’ll be stuck out here for who knows how long.”

  “There’s not a cloud in the sky.”

  Nodding, Professor Madison decided to change the course of the conversation.

  “Too right, Dr. Walker. I’m confident we’ll be finished and home before the rain comes.”

  “We’d better be,” one of the grad students mumbled. “My plans for the New Year don’t include being stuck up to my knees in the outback mud, a couple hundred miles from the nearest pub or grog shop.”

  Becky shrugged.

  “Either way, right now, I’m going to have a look at the crater.”

  “Me too,” Jake said.

  “They estimate the meteor impact was some three hundred thousand years ago. In the sky it would’ve looked like an enormous ball of fire. Can you imagine what it sounded like when it hit. You would’ve felt the shock wave a hundred miles away. The dust cloud turned the day to night, or blacked out the stars. From the rim here, smaller rings spread out for miles, like ripples. Of course back then, the only things out here were probably giant kangaroos, lions and giant goannas.”

  “They say at the time of impact the crater was much deeper, but over the centuries erosion filled it in.”

  “Right, the rim has worn down and the outer rings are nearly invisible. That’s one of the ways we can tell how old it is. We use the geological time scale.”

  ”How do you know so much about it, Jake?”

  “This is the second largest meteor crater that’s easily accessible to the public, in the whole civilized world. The larger one is back home in Arizona. I’ve seen it, too.”

  “What was all that about giant kangaroos? Did you say something about lions?”

  “Yep, when the first Aborigines arrived, there were still giant mammals here, very similar to those of today, only much bigger, giant reptiles too. Maybe that’s how the Rainbow Serpent story was established. The giants are pretty much extinct now, as are the marsupial lions and the Tasmanian tiger. Still, here in the Australian Outback there are untold species as yet undiscovered.”

  “That’s what the biologists tell us.”

  “New species are identified every year. That includes nearly every genus and family you can imagine. There is no telling what will be discovered next.”

  After a moment, Becky said, “Look at the centre of the crater. The bunch grass and brush are still green there. This is the hottest and driest time of year, but the plants are still green. When the meteor hit, it so compacted the ground, the centre still holds moisture even in this heat.”

  Professor Madison had seen enough.

  “Well, the sun is about to bake all the moisture out of me. Let’s get back on the road. I want to be at Yarramalong Station in time for lunch. Becky, get everybody gathered back at the car park.”

  Five

  After the rugged drive on washboard roads, the choking dust and endless vistas of flat land and dry brush, Yarramalong Station proved to be an oasis. Not the type of oasis with palm trees and pools of water, but a cluster of buildings and pens with some gum trees providing patchy shade. The low buildings were built of clapboard with corrugated steel roofs, and looked to have been there for a hundred years, which most of them had been. The row of little, one room bungalows appeared to be the only new additions. Seeing any type of civilization out here was a relief. Even just these homely buildings floating on a sea of red dirt promised a respite from the sun.

  “Look, they have camels!” Becky pointed at the odd creatures languidly watching them as they drove past their pen.

  The little convoy of four wheel drive vehicles was waived off to park at the edge of the compound. The water truck included.

  Emerging from the vehicles, the group was greeted by a short, barrel chested Aboriginal man, of indeterminate age with sparkling black eyes, peering out from under a stockman’s hat.

  “G’day, I’m Wally. Welcome to Yarramalong Station. You must be the people from Sydney.”

  “I’m Professor Charles Madison, the leader of the expedition. This is my assistant, Rebecca Davenport. This tall fellow is Doctor Jacob Walker from the United States. You can make the acquaintance of the rest of us in due course.”

  Wally nodded, looking over the group. What he saw was five soft city kids. Two of them were sheilas, one, a freckly blond, the other of Asian descent. The three young men looked fit enough, but lacked the mature confidence of the truck driver or the American. Two of them were looking at their mobile phones as if they expected to get a signa
l. He’d seen their type often enough. The yank was studying him with a mirror interest to his own. The truck driver was flirting with the Asian girl. The man in charge was of little interest. He appeared to be a typical, blustering white academic. His assistant on the other hand was beautiful and looked back at him with intelligence and just a flicker of good humour.

  “You’ll be wanting to clean up. The bath house is over yonder. Shielas, I mean ladies, go first. Dinner will be on the table in about thirty minutes. The dining hall is right behind you. Professor Madison, I’ll meet you down at the homestead as soon as you’re ready. It’s the far house with the flower beds round about it.”

  Having finished his greeting and introduction, Wally turned and walked away.

  In a time when so many of the cattle stations were owned by foreign corporations, Thomas Colfax and his family was the fourth generation to own and manage Yarramalong Station. In an unforgiving environment, they’d survived hostile Aborigines, floods, droughts and two world wars. Sometimes they thrived, but mostly they worked hard and barely survived. Good years or bad, it was the life they loved.

  “That’s tribal land, and they mean for it to stay that way,” Thomas Colfax said. “We don’t run any stock within miles of there. It’s too dry anyway, but the tribe won’t lease any of it. They never have and never will. They’re adamant on the point. Today, there’s Purnululu National Park to the northeast and another station to the south, but once you leave the boundaries of our pastoral leases, there’s nearly three thousand square miles of tribal land. Where you’re going is virtually unexplored. I’m surprised you were able to get permission from them to even enter that area.”

  “…Money, Mr. Colfax. In exchange for allowing our research, the uni and the government agreed to fund a major solar project for them. After this initial dig, if we find anything significant, the site will be protected from further intrusions without special permission and strict supervision by tribal representatives. The tribe gets a new electrical grid whether we find anything interesting or not. They promised to provide a guide to take us out to the site. Do you know where we can find that person?”