Chapter 8: Nockatunga Waterhole - Cunnamulla

Before noon the next day, Cook told me there would be visitors today. About an hour later, there was a good deal of noise and two ATVs popped over the bank of the waterhole and “parked” near the humpies. There was a crowd around them in a moment, so I hung back. Then one of the riders called out “Mornin’, Gordy!” and I realized these were two of the hands from Epsilon Station.

“G’day. I thought you told me it was a three-day-walk!”

“It is ... if you walk. Graham let us borrow ATVs from time to time.”

“How long does it take?”

“Five hours if you drive right; three hours if you have fun.”

“You two have fun?”

“You bet! But we careful. Take nearly four hours ‘cause of trailers. Bring flour an’ sugar an’ peaches.”

“Peaches?”

“Big cans. Sweet juice.”

Aha! Canned peaches in syrup. “Sheilas make peach cake?”

“Sometimes. How long you stay here?”

“I was thinking of leaving tomorrow.”

“Where you go nex’?”

“Quilpie. I want to see the opal mines.”

“We here for two nights, then go back. Gas in cans.”

“Right. Good to see you again.”

“You now nungungi two-shot hunter!” He laughed.

“New name?”

“Yep. You ‘two-shot’.”

Another reputation. I wondered how far it would reach.

The last of the ‘roo went that night, as well as some fresh-caught fish, thanks to the women and children. I think they were some type of catfish. I told Joshua that I would be leaving in the morning and asked whether I could do anything for the band.

“Find ‘nother ‘roo,” he suggested.

I looked about for Cook and located him.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” I said. “Want to try for another ‘roo?”

“Sure. This good time.”

We walked to my Rover and I got my pistol and a magazine. We retraced the route we’d taken a few evenings before.

“Got a knife?” I asked.

“Yep. Hush now.” We were with 10 metres of where the other one had been shot. Cook pointed. I aimed and heard the kangaroo bound away.

“Hear you cock pistol,” Cook said.

“I guess so. Will we find another?”

“Sure. Too stupid to be spooked.”

Sure enough, within five minutes there was a large male foraging in the same place. I still had my pistol in hand, took aim as he raised his head, and fired. I think I hit him in the neck, just below the jaw line. He just fell to one side.

“Only one shot this time,” Cook said. He walked over, slit the throat so that it would bleed out and sat back. “Shoulda brought Meena.”

“If you weren’t noisier than a flock of galahs, you’d have heard me follow you.” She was right behind me.

“Will you take care of him?”

“Of course.”

“It is my parting gift to Joshua. I leave tomorrow.”

“You have been good to us.”

“I try.”

“Too few do.”

I realized that Meena was a cut above many of the women. “Where did you go to school?”

“Charleville School of Distance Education. Useta be part of the Flying Doctor Service. They decided I didn’t need more after grade 8.”

“I understand.”

She had been working on the evisceration as we talked. “OK. Cook, you carry.”

And we made our way back to the fire side.

In the morning I thanked Joshua for his hospitality. He thanked me for the “gift of meat.” I said good-bye to Alf and Cook, but Meena and the hands weren’t visible. I then got underway for Eromanga.

If you look at a map of Australia, Eromanga is in a singular situation. It is the furthest town from the ocean – any ocean. It also produces millions of litres of petroleum each year and it’s the site of recent dinosaur excavations. The town itself has only a few dozen people in it. There was once a hotel in Eromanga, but it’s now a museum. There’s also a new dinosaur museum, honouring the titanosaur, “Cooper.” Museums were too much like work.

It took me about three hours to get to Eromanga. I stopped at the park to view the opal-studded picnic tables, topped off my diesel from one of my tins, and went on to Quilpie, just over an hour away. I’d been to Quilpie Airfield decades ago, when Willie bought her Mooney, but I’d never stopped in the town. I wondered how the Evanses were, where they were.

In Quilpie, I stopped at the Imperial and got a single for the night and had a late lunch in the bar. Then I walked down Brolga Street to look at the three opal shops. Yes, I know I was in the opal country before I left NSW, but Australia supplies over 90% of the world’s commercial grade opal. And most of it comes from three areas: White Cliffs and Lightning Ridge in New South Wales and this area in south-west Queensland. (There’s even a Quilpie Opals shop in Perth.) Most of the opal from Queensland is “boulder opal,” with a layer of ironstone. It’s less valuable than the black opals from Cooper Pedy and Lightning Ridge.