In search of an inland sea

For many years it was presumed that Australia must contain a great inland sea. I suppose there may have been a number of reasons for this presumption, but the most plausible was the vast number of rivers which seemed to flow in that direction. And indeed they do, at least when they flow. However the reality of the great inland sea was to be rather underwhelming.

For us the search was rather easier to achieve. It is marked on all of our maps as Lake Eyre, and routes into it conveniently marked as roads. We can see all of the rivers joining and making their way there, but as we cross them one by one, each is as dry as the last. The line of trees and the depression for the sandy bed being the only indication as to their presence.

Australia does have a great inland sea, but it is in fact dry most of the time. The rate of evaporation exceeding the rate of precipitation, even accounting for the huge catchment that flows here, means that all we see is the sea bed, apparently as low as 15m below sea level. Even after its discovery in the 1860s, there was no confirmed observation of its filling until the 1940s. Since then it has been full in the 1974/75 period and again in the 2000s. So once again, this great continent had broken dreams as it had broken hearts and bodies in a search.

We took a diversion travelling from Coober Pedy to William Creek to go to Lake Cadibarrawirracanna. The attraction here was quite simple. You might assume it has the longest place name in Australia, and perhaps that is correct although I have no idea. However, for me it was because Rolf Harris wrote a song about it that was part of my childhood. Not a great deal to see here, and because the ground is so flat and soft, the road finishes a couple of kilometres from the lake and so the walk takes longer, and provides less than we wanted to afford.

Lunch was at William Creek. It was another place to be ticked off, but turned up a few unexpected surprises. A pub that has chosen as its characteristic to pin identity cards to the roof is not so surprising, nor was the homely atmosphere of the dining room, and the price of diesel providing more turnover than the bar. William Creek services Anna Creek Station which is the largest in the World, and also is sited in the Woomera Prohibited Area, through which we travelled. Woomera was a rocket range and while Australia achieved Federation in 1901, it would be wrong to say we achieved any kind of independence. Britain chose Woomera, and the associated area at Maralinga for its rocket and nuclear bomb test ranges after World War 2, and Australia was a willing participant.

The level of the technology, and the priority, was to launch rockets, not to retrieve them. They fell, untracked, into the vast tract of land from South Australia up into the Pilbara of northern Western Australia. While some were found, the majority were not, and even if they were, horseback could not carry the large pieces. It was not until stations began using aircraft more commonly that the pieces were found in any quantity, and vehicles could be used for their recovery. William Creek became a collection point and a museum, and one such interested visitor today was Dick Smith, amateur aviator and interested in all things historical and cultural.He had flown in for a visit with a small group of friends.

Lake Eyre for us was indeed dry, but the warning signs were also spot on. Driving on the lake is prohibited for several reasons, but the principal of which are that the marks left may last for decades, spoiling the view for others, and also because the crust is very thin over a bottomless mass of sticky black mud from which vehicle recovery is impossible. And indeed it is.   Walking would have you break the surface and you sink above your ankles into mud which I can only describe as being like vegemite with a sprinkling of talcum powder mixed in. It is some of the stickiest stuff I have ever had to deal with, and I include old baby poo in this comparison.

The salt is further out, but patches are close enough to walk on, and it is salty, and hard. There is also evidence of a salt foam being whipped up as it was drying, with a crusty wave preserved in time.

Cleaning up the muck made us late into Coward Springs, our camp for the night. That gave us a beautiful sunset on the road, which we couldn’t spend the time to appreciate and a semi-dark setup. It also meant the obligatory walk to the hot spa was freezing cold, but necessary to remove the last of the mud before collapsing into bed.