“That Which Does Not Kill Us Makes Us Stronger…”

(photo taken from cycletrailsaustralia.com)

I first heard this adage many years when I was an undergraduate. I was a work-study student and my work detail involved cutting a road through the woods on campus. I don’t quite remember why we were using hand tools. I was very strong back then and maybe a little dumb. My aim with an axe wasn’t very good either and I managed the break the heads off about three of them in as many days. I learned how to replace the handles quickly. This adage would play out again and again over the years. 

The Northwest corner of Australia is a very remote piece of arable real estate. In the English language it is a region known as the Kimberley. There are several Aboriginal languages in the area that have their own names. It is dry, hot and hard country. It seems to have two seasons: Hot and dry and hotter and wet.

During the wet season, torrential rains accompany monsoons that blow in from south East Asia across the Indian Ocean. Rain fall could be measured in feet. At times big chunks of the Kimberley are submerged. Rivers change course, new goose necks are formed and existing goose necks may become cut off. These are known as billabongs. These billabongs can be home to hundreds of species of birds, mammals and reptiles. The most notorious of these is the Estuarine Crocodile. Also known as the salt water crocodile or, “salty” in the local vernacular. The “salty’ is a Jurassic throwback. It is essentially a ferocious set of teeth attached to the world’s largest reptile. They are gifted hunters, often stalking their prey. Sometimes for days and relying on ambush. They mostly hang out in the sea and are well adapted to salt water. They can swim hundreds of kilometers often swimming and drifting at sea for weeks. They also inhabit brackish water where salt meets fresh. When the rains come to the Kimberley, “Salties” can be found following the water. When the rains end and the waters begin to recede, they may be found in billabongs cut off from the sea until the next rains come.

In late June of 2017, I happened to be cycling across a section of this vast expanse of Australia. What should have been a day and a half became a four day epic. I was on an old highway connecting two small towns. I’d gotten some information that although the road was mostly gravel it was in good condition. Yeah, that information was old. The surface went from bad to worse. Corrugations deep enough to swallow a Volkswagen, deep sand and something I’d never even seen before; bull dust. What looked like a hard packed ridge of mud turned out to be dust as fine as talcum powder as deep as my ankle and able to stop my wheels dead and send me flying off the bike.

So it was on the third night of this “short ride” when I found myself running out of water and seemingly not getting any closer to my destination. At dusk, I came across the miracle of a billabong. It was toward the end of the dry season so it was a bit murky, a little tepid and had clumps of algae floating around in it. At least I hope it was algae and not something more sinister. I’d only seen one or two other vehicles in the two and a half days on this road. I always travel with a water filter. I had plenty of fuel for my stove so purifying the water wasn’t a problem. It did taste a bit muddy.

Dusk was settling in. There was a small rise on one end of the pond. It was brushy but I figured it would be safe from any lurking Salties. I pushed my bike up the hill and as I usually do, I waited to see what the land had to say and to pick a good spot for my tent. It's an intuitive thing, "waiting for the land to tell me." I've always done this. Experience has taught me to wait a few minutes to see what emerges. Sometimes the spot I thought would be perfect turns out to be the entrance of a giant ant colony. Or any number of other things that could make life uncomfortable for the next 12 hours.

Along with the potentially deadly crocodiles, funnel-web spiders, box jellyfish, stonefish, blue octopus and cone snails Australia is home to a plethora of lethal snakes. Fortunately, not everything in Australia is out to kill you. Consider the kangaroo. But even the world's largest marsupial has one sharp claw in the middle of it's hind food designed to eviscerate. Never the less, three minutes into my wait on the hill, came a slithering a snake. It was quite beautiful actually. Shiny, dark gray with a lighter colored under belly. Not all snakes in Australia are venomous. But there seem to be an awful lot of them that are and not knowing which is which I treat them all with due respect and act as if they are ALL deadly. I don’t know what species that particular fellow was and I didn’t care to find out. I moved me and my bike a few yards away. Gently but with purpose. I waited again. I don’t know if it was the same snake or another of the same ilk, but here is another snake. I moved again. And again. Then I noticed some tall grass waving about ten yards away. There was no breeze nor wind. Sure enough, there were two snakes entwined standing up on their tails involved in some sort of ritual dance. I was surrounded. I gingerly made my way out of there and back to the road. 

Even though I hadn’t seen anyone in days, I prefer to hide my camps from the road. That left the edge of the billabong on which to set my camp. I had to decide which was riskier, the snakes or the possibility of crocs lurking in that murky water. The snakes I had seen for sure. But there were no telltale signs of crocodiles. They often leave wallows and very distinct tracks in the sand near the water. Some literature I’d read at the visitor center back in the last town of Kununurra said that twenty five meters from the edge of the water was relatively safe from crocs. I’m an American. I’m not sure what twenty five meters looks like. I translated it to yards. But that put me backed up to a rock wall. I decided in my mind that I was twenty SIX meters from the edge of the water. I set my camp, managed to cook and choke down some noodles and watched the stars come out. The sun had set but it was still hot and I left the fly off my tent. Australia hosts some of the darkest skies left on the planet. What an incredible sight! There was no moon and the stars seemed closer. The night was still and the deafening sound of no sound was profound. I drifted off to sleep with a hint of a breeze coming off the water.

When dawn came, there were a few tiny birds flitting around the edge of the water and it was already warmer. I didn’t see any signs of crocs. What I did see were kangaroo prints and the continuous s shaped print of snakes moving across the sand. With eyes in the back of my head, I ate a hasty breakfast, packed my camp and hit the road.