The Great Grasswren Expedition: Part Two

James' photo of me drinking-in the sunset as I would. I love this photo.

We left the Opalton Bush Camp with very specific instructions provided by a knowledgeable local. He made us a “mud map” with written directions to get to the track up to Lark Quarry going north, and to Windorah going south. This route worked without a hitch and we arrived, safe and dusty in Windorah later that arvo. Before long we heard from Team Soobi. They had driven up to Lark Quarry, seen the resident Grey Falcon on its tower and decided to come on down to Windorah. 

     

The two teams left the next morning for Birdsville. Team Soobi did a bit of birding on the way and picked up Eyrean Grasswren in the same spot James and I had gotten our Lifers in May of 2018. Team Troopi drove on to the Birdsville Bakery in hopes of curried camel pie (priorities haha). We did arrive before their silly closing time of 2:30pm, but still it was not to be. They would not have any camel until 10 May (it was 4 May). Instead we had kangaroo pies and they were almost as delicious.

Then we checked into the Birdsville Caravan Park. There was a long queue to register, and the flies were intense (see the photo of me in queue wearing a head-net. Don’t laugh, they do work). After over a half an hour, I secured us a powered site in partial shade up the front. The weather was delightful. It can be in the upper 30’s out there in early May, but it was in the low 20’s. We slept well and, in the morning, both teams were off at first light to the birder-famous Grey Grasswren site 91 kilometres south of Birdsville. 

        

As told in Chapter Twelve, it is the spot where I saw my 700th Australian bird. It is a very special place to me. I saw that bird only because of James’ ears. I cannot hear grasswrens at all. According to an audiologist, I have severe hearing loss in my right ear and moderate hearing loss in my left. That was three years ago, and it has gone further downhill since then. A lot of loud rock and roll and a lot of performing with amplification over the years. I used to turn my right ear to the monitors, and I reckon that is how I got most of the damage. As you know, I had my hearing ear boy with me. 

We pulled off onto the side of the track by the same spot where we had parked Troopi on 15 May 2018. We were able to drive off the track and onto a small open area to park back then, but now there is a ditch preventing that. It did not matter; we were in the right place. We began birding and by birding, I mean that James, David and Alan were listening, and I was following them around. Soon we were at a large lignum bush in which they could hear grasswrens. I took their words for it and we stared at that bush. 

And then David saw a Grey Grasswren inside the bush. Now we knew for sure it was in there. We stared some more and other tiny glimpses were achieved, but that was all. They were hearing other GGWs behind us as well and we changed lignum bushes. By now my back was screaming at me. Just standing around makes my back ache as it has done for years (probably from having such poor posture). I walked over to Troopi and got my old camp chair and returned to watching the bush. The others were now on camp chairs too, except James. I have called James the ‘squat king’ because he can squat for hours. I can no longer squat. My knees just don’t do that anymore and if I did manage it, I do not reckon I could un-squat. 

We stared at that lignum bush. I was sitting down, and I was wearing a fly-net. It was pretty easy birding. I glimpsed the grasswren move about inside the bush. And then, it popped out and dropped down to the ground. I could hardly believe my eyes! That is an expression I have often heard but rarely experienced. This was that experience. I could hardly believe I was seeing a Grey Grasswren out in the open! It was moving fast, but there it was! and I got some recording shots. It was quite a thrill for me to see my 700th bird again and even make its photo. I was very pleased. I reckon that Grey Grasswren is easily my favourite grasswren. They are incredibly beautiful and difficult to see. These are things that birders tend to like, and I certainly do. Here are some photos.

        

     

    

We had decided to only go as far as Mungerannie and camp there. It is an unpowered camp, but they do have showers and toilets. I called and spoke to the owner, Phil, the day before. I had met him the afternoon after seeing the Grey Grasswren in 2018, so admittedly I had been in the best state of Lifer High at the time. Regardless, I remembered it is a pretty cool place. I chatted with Phil and told him we were coming there the next day and even asked if a bit of power could be sorted. He said, “Yeah, come on down. We’ll figure out something.” Cool, it was all sorted. So we took our time getting there. 

After a few stops, which included looking at and photographing a cute as Gibberbird, we arrived at Mungerannie. As James finished topping off Troopi’s main tank I had gone in to see Phil. However, he wasn’t there. He was not ‘seeing people.’ The seemingly disinterested lady behind the bar said, and I quote, “Phil is not the best version of Phil today.” She really said that, whatever that might mean. I told her what I had spoken to him about and she said she knew nothing about any of that. Then she told me that their water was broken, and the showers and toilets did not work. At this point, James came in to pay for the diesel on his card. He does not carry cash. She said their Eftpos machine wasn’t working. In the meantime, in what I remembered from three years ago as a very friendly place, the punters at the bar were eyeing us like they were extras from the film Deliverance. It was actually creepy (and I even like banjo music haha). The continuingly unhelpful lady then said that Marree, which was the only possible next accommodation or caravan park, was "only" two hundred kilometres down the track. She also mentioned that the track was in pretty good shape down to there. I got the feeling that we weren’t really wanted and that was an unusual as well as an uncomfortable feeling for me. && This is the exact opposite of my first visit there. And bear in mind that by now it was about an hour to sunset. Just as team Soobi arrived we all decided leave for Marree. I ate two muesli bars by way of dinner as I drove. We would not reach Marree until at least 7pm which is a bit late for my acid-reflux issues. 

About a half an hour before we reached the town, James and I unexpectedly stumbled upon a family of Inland Dotterels standing on the track. I hit the brakes and James got another Lifer. There were about six birds, including a very cute chick that we made sure was safely away from the track before we left. We also took its picture. Alan and David saw the chick as well. It was also a Lifer for Alan. 

     

As we reached our first mobile reception since Birdsville, we began trying to contact either of the two caravan parks. As is sometimes the case, neither park could be bothered to answer their phones. Over the radio (we did have radio communication between the vehicles) David said that several years ago he had stayed at the old hotel. It was a historic building built in 1883. I rang them and the very helpful and very friendly young lady (two qualities that had been sorely lacking back up the road) said that she could provide us accommodation, although they were quite full. There were tour groups rolling in. These were tourist tour groups, not birding tours. There is a big difference. 

This was the beginning of the time of year when some people about my age (I hate to admit) will gather in large groups and hire someone to show them stuff. Their “adventures” are seeing the things that we see on our way to see things. The birds lead us into awesome and I am grateful that they do. These tour groups also do a lot of eating and drinking. The restaurant at the motel was a madhouse and it took us ages just to get checked in. I was glad I had eaten my rather sparse dinner a few hours earlier. Our rooms were quite dear and not particularly nice, but they seemed mostly clean, and the mattress wasn’t bad. And I do not think it was haunted. 

   

We all left the next morning bidding a very fond farewell to our good friends of Team Soobi. It had been a very successful expedition. Sadly, Alan had discovered a flat tyre on his Subaru. It must have been a slow leak as they did not notice anything amiss as they were driving in, but merely saw that the car was leaning at an odd angle after it was parked in front of the hotel. They were headed for a tyre repair down the road. James and I headed south for the Arid Lands Park just north of Port Augusta. 

But first we called in to the Lyndhurst Hotel. I do love that place. We had stayed there on that wonderful day in May 2018 as is told in Chapter twelve of this book. It was as friendly and welcoming this time as it had been the first time. Laurie Kalms is the owner and in both my visits there, made me feel very welcome. I like him. I will also mention that their diesel was quite reasonable for the outback. We topped off Troopi’s tanks.

Continuing south, we arrived at the Australian Arid Lands Botanic Garden just north of Port Augusta around midday. Our friend Sam Gordon who lives in Adelaide, had given us suggestions to help James find a Chirruping Wedgebill. They suggested the scrub along the entrance road, particularly near the track over to the lookout. After maybe fifteen minutes looking around, near that track even I heard it “chirruping.” Soon we were both looking at this small, loud, grey bird with a crest. James added another Lifer. It stubbornly moved about inside the large bush and did not come out for photos. But it gave James some good Lifer views. Sweet. 

We headed along to Port Germein and took a site at yet another of my favourite caravan parks. As I was checking in, I told Des, the owner, about his park being in my book. He wanted to see it and I showed him. He was pleased. He ended up trading us a powered site for the copy. That was kind of cool. I autographed it for him. I had an excellent night’s sleep there. 

      

James' photo of the view out the front of the caravan park

The next day I discovered what was to become another favourite caravan park. The Port Wakefield Caravan Park was excellent, and our reasonably priced, powered site faced a gorgeous lagoon. My friend, Michael Greenshields came to the park and collected us to take us in search of a Grey Plover for James. There had been a couple of the waders being seen at two beaches near Port Wakefield. Michael lives close by and knows the area. I had thoroughly enjoyed being on his podcast, The Birder’s Guide, with him a few months ago. We had a great time birding with him, although the Plovers were just not around. 

     

We returned to the caravan park and experienced a beautiful sunset right out of Troopi’s back doors. It truly was stunning. James took a photo of me just gazing at it. I hope to use his picture as the back cover of this book. We will see. It has now become one of my favourite photos of me. Even though it is of my back, it still captures me, an old long-haired hippie drinking-in the sunset. That is who I am. It is a good photo of my life at present. Yes, I will always appreciate sunsets and sunrises, even if I have learn to do it alone. I deeply appreciate my dear friend James’ company and his artistic eye for seeing this photo and taking it. He was behind me and asked me to just stand there for a moment and he took that photo. He captured me in that moment. It was a good moment, thank you, buddy. 

    

    

James' photo again. I hope it will be the back cover. I may even frame it for my study.

The next day we looked briefly around Adelaide for a Barbary Dove for James, but it began to pour and pour rain. We will see it another time. We drove on to the Keith Caravan Park where I had reserved one of the very comfortable and yet so inexpensive cabins. We stayed there in Chapter Thirteen of this book and I will stay there again. We headed back to Lara the next day. The sun had set on the Great Grasswren Expedition. It was time to get back at my old desk and write about it. 

I will leave you with this. The outback is a melody that not everyone can hear but those who do, hear it in their very souls. It resonates within us like the drone of a digeridoo. It is as much a vibration as it is a sound. It is a part of the beating of my heart. 

She rolled past 400K and neither she, nor I, are done yet.

The actual mileage was more like 5,500 K. I could not include the whole route on Google maps (some of it did not exist haha).

A reminder that my first book, "An Australian Birding Year" is available worldwide and also as an eBook.

I write therefore I am. I share therefore it’s real. Love is all there is.