When I was told about a temporal sea in the middle of the Australian Outback I was immediately intrigued because it sounded more like a myth than reality.
Apparently – the story goes – every decade or so when drought breaks (see recent Queensland floods) the rain and floodwaters slowly migrate throughout the continent via networks of newly formed rivers, basins and subterranean waterways. They end up in the country’s lowest point, located in arid South Australia. Somehow fish get inside this huge body of water. I’ve even heard some say that there are fish eggs in the desert waiting to hatch upon the water’s return. With the fish come bird migrations and colonies. And if it floods enough, the water sustains a brief ecological spurt; flower blooms erupt in the middle of the desert. All this talk about water and biodiversity in arid Australia was an image I had not associated with the Outback.
And so with my romantic inclinations, I looked into it.
Lake Eyre satellite image
This ‘sea’ is otherwise known as Lake Eyre. It is as real as it is mythologised, having been portrayed as a site of fascination and fear all throughout the national narrative of Australia. According to some aboriginal accounts, Lake Eyre is a Kangaroo skin laid out flat. In other accounts it is the site of death, with the salty remnants of tears shed by the Sky Gods. For explorer John Edward Eyre it symbolised disillusionment after failing to find the heroic prizes usually associated with territorial expansion – resources, drinking water, power. He then proceeded to name the lookout point upon which he discovered the Lake, Mount Hopeless. Prior to that Thomas J. Maslen drew a fictional map, featuring an inland sea in the middle of the Australian continent. The sea is shown as being connected by a massive river labelled “The Great River Or Desired Blessing”. He thereby set the agenda for a national ideal, for a reality, which was at that time yet to be explored. For geologist J W Gregory the Lake was branded as “The Dead Heart of Australia”. Charles Sturt unsuccessfully carried a nine meter long whaleboat into the Outback, in a failed attempt to discover an inland sea. Hydrologists lobbied to artificially kick start a permanently flooded Lake Eyre, as a means to irrigate the entire continent. The stories go on and on…
I had the recent pleasure of visiting Lake Eyre and it’s surrounding satellite towns. Here are some travel pics:
The ochre coloured township of Coober Pedy. Famous for opal mines and landscapes reminiscent of Mars. 70% of the population live underground, presumably to moderate the extreme temperatures experienced there. The topography of the town resembles that of a re appropriated opal mine, along with random mounds of excavated earth scattered all over the place. It is within these mounds that the houses are located. We had an interesting underground experience at a cafe where the owner closed the kitchen upon our arrival and politely showed us to the door because he needed to leave the shop to “buy some milk”.
There was a very cool space ship parked outside the local opal shop/town lookout.More space junk in William Creek. This one is legit though – Stage one R3 Rocket from the 70s. Tangentially it is also near the historical atomic testing sites. Population: 5, or something to that effect. William Creek is one shop/petrol pump/pub/camping grounds. It is located midway along the Oodnadatta Track, which roughly follows the nearby western edge of Lake Eyre North. The track was previously an early explorers path, which followed a network of water bores.
Oasis. Big drought break. The desert was surprisingly green.
The remains of a Mosque located in Marree. The town has a history of Afghan Cameleers who settled there in the 1870’s. Coincidentally our travel routing plans were affected by lack of accommodation because of the coinciding annual Camel Cup races. Marree is also home to the Lake Eyre Yacht Club, which hosts a regatta every time the Lake is sufficiently flooded. It boasts to be the world’s most exclusive yacht club for that reason. They are currently in dispute with local Aborigines who oppose the practice of sailing on the lake.
The main course: The shores of Lake Eyre. 80% full. It’s a very salty lake, not much fun for swimming in especially for those with cuts or scratches. Up close it is shallow and not quite swimmable where we met the shore. It has a very thick mud base which never fully dries out under the salt pans even in the Lakes dried state. By this stage I’m feeling nauseous in our 1970’s colour schemed mini plane. But nevertheless pretty snap-happy on the ol’ camera.
A rather disorientating moment that didn’t help with my fragile state of motion sickness and feelings of strange juju.
Some salt pans that weren’t submerged by water.Leaving the Lake. See you again next decade!
