Heavenly Beverley : Grey Skies, Watery Stuff and Glorious Mud...In the Desert?!

This is the story of rain in the Western Australian outback. A landscape of very red open country and scanty scrub with limited trees. Most of these plants are low acacia, salt bush, euphorbia, flannel bush, spinifex and other native grasses. Survival of the fitness is the natural order of the desert. Until there is rain...

Our last day in Cue was devoted to a nostalgic trip down Memory Lane to Nallan Station. Cloud cover began to stream across the sky, initially white and streaky. As the afternoon progressed, the clouds became thicker and the light gloomier. This change in the weather didn't dampen our spirits at all as we were immersed in Nallan's atmosphere.

The station had been mightily upgraded since we'd last visited in 2021. The caravan sites were been neatened up, grass was appearing here and there, an Airbnb had been established in one of the houses, and the shearers' quarters, camp kitchen and bathrooms had all been renovated. We spent a few agreeable couple of hours chatting to camp hosts, Karl and Marlene, enjoying coffee (they had a machine!) and splendid home baked cupcakes. I pottered around the property, snapping photos here, there and everywhere. The Corgi "guard dogs" were unperturbed by my presence, the chooks were marginally psycho, the guinea fowl as stupid as ever, the cows shy and the pigs would have liked to have eaten my fingers. Hence, I kept my distance!

I realised, with rather a shock, that Michael's sculpture, created in 1999, during the inaugural Cue Fest, had disappeared off the wall of the ablutions. In its place was a very attractive mural of local bird life. After my initial reaction, I calmed down. Old metal artifacts had been scattered attractively around the area and the vibe indicated that Michael's sculpture, although dismantled, was still about in various nooks and crannies. Perhaps, with new owners, and after twenty-four years since Michael had produced the sculpture over the Easter weekend in 1999, the update was merely a sign of progress.

We moved onto Nallan Lake, a touch further north. Marlene had provided us with directions to access the free camping spots, but we initially drove straight past that track. And then, suddenly, Nallan Lake was there. Full. In all his years of travelling in the outback, Michael had never seen so much water. The lake had actually burst its banks and was receding after an obvious downpour. We tramped around the edges, our boot soles sinking into the incredibly sticky mud. We began to view the prolific bird life that had taken up residence in this renewed bounty.

We then retraced our steps to the free camping zone. The lake was just as impressive on the opposite side. We chatted amiably with one of the campers whilst staring awe-struck at the water, the birds and the vegetation. An entire bank of trees were semi-submerged half way across the lake. They were probably just as surprised as we were.

Our final destination for the afternoon was Milly's Soak, which had originally supplied water to Cue and then become a favourite picnic ground for a weekend lunch. The location had also served as a field hospital during the typhoid outbreak in 1893 and three graves marked this sombre period of Cue's existence. We were duly impressed and also mesmerised by the beauty of the country. Water was obviously the key to all life in the outback.

By late in the afternoon, the light was fading and the sky threateningly overcast. We drove back to Cue, gathered the washing and battened down for the evening. Throughout the night, my mind kept racing with possibilities if the Landor Road from Meekatharra to Mt Augustus was closed by inclement weather.

The universe was on our side. The following morning, the rain did not begin until we were pulling into Meeka. Filling up with fuel and picking up lunch, a local in the queue informed me that there had been precious little rain out of town and the Landor Road was still open.

We hotfooted Will and Lily away from Meeka before the rain became heavier. With only a few short, sharp bursts of rain, drizzle was our main companion on our run to Mount Gould, an 1888 police station and lockup that had been funded by the surrounding station owners. This dot on the landscape was literally in the middle of nowhere. After a quick jaunt around the buildings, we made camp in a pleasant spot a couple of kilometres up the road. There, we lit a delightful fire with abundant wood all around, braved the elements with our waterproof jackets and sat around the warmth with an excellent vino...or two.

Once inside our cosy van, the only options were conversation, map reading and then bed. The rain continued throughout the night, which did not deter the odd visitor. When we emerged into the much sunnier morning light, we were amused to note the kangaroo tracks right next to the window facing our bed. Some nosy Parker had risen up on his back legs and peered in at some stage of the night!

Our drive onto Mount Augustus was blissfully easy. The mud took some time to dry out so the dust entering Will was less that expected...(I still had to conduct a major sweep, wipe and mop when we arrived). We had lunch on a beautiful ridge just out of Landor Station. Our next stop was to see the gnamma holes, found in granite rock, with permanent water underneath, known by the local Wajarri people for millennia.

All through the mid-afternoon, we became aware of the enormity of Mount Augustus in the distance. The size of Burringurrah (the Wajarri title) just was unlike any rock we had ever seen. Filling the entire horizon, we became more and more excited as we approached.

We were weary, muddy and elated as we arrived at the Mount Augustus Tourist Park. The rock, ever present, was the main feature just outside this extremely attractive park. We were more than thrilled to be dwarfed by its majesty.