Making the Revolution
Chapter 12

Copyright© 2019 by Peter H. Salus

Sam and Tessa left Alice Springs, early on Monday. Tessa gave up her desire to drive across the deserts, not all that reluctantly. They spent that night in Tennant Creek, Tuesday night in Katherine, Wednesday in Timber Creek, and arrived at boobook’s home by noon on Thursday. Boobook awaited them.

“I see you Bunjil, I see you Karlo!”

“We see you, Boobook. It has been long.”

“Yes. You have heard of the lake’s vanishing.” It was a statement, not a question.

“We have. From my father, the Carpet Python. That is why we have come. We would join the new settlement. Is the leader here?”

“Josiah is examining the proposed site.”

“Will he accept us?”

“You can ask him later.”

“We go to greet others; we’ll return.”

It took Sam and Tessa about five minutes to drive to Kelly’s Bar where they had lunch. On their way back to Mirima Village, they stopped at Waringarri Radio and chatted with several members of the band. They then returned to Boobook’s house.

“This is Josiah.”

“I am pleased to meet you. I am Bunjil, or Sam. This is my wife, Karlo, or Tessa. We would ask to join your community. Is this possible?”

“Of course. Do you not know the 133rd Psalm?”

Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!

2 It is like the precious ointment upon the head, that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron’s beard: that went down to the skirts of his garments;

3 As the dew of Hermon, and as the dew that descended upon the mountains of Zion: for there the Lord commanded the blessing, even life for evermore.

“We will join,” said Tessa. “But you must tell us what we can do.”

“Where we can contribute the most,” added Sam.

“I have heard that Bunjil sees far. And that Karlo leads Bunjil.”

“Sometimes leads, often follows.”

“We heard of you from my father,” Sam said.

“He let me ride with him to the lake-that-was and to the other dam at the bridge.”

“Was the water high?”

“It had topped the bridge; when we were there, two days later, Lake Kununurra was high, but the roadway was not wet.”

“That sounds good. How dry is the lake-that-was?”

“I do not know.”

“Can we walk where it was?”

“I think so. Let us ask Boobook.”

“I see no barrier,” he said. “You must take care there will be snakes and maybe crocs. The fish remaining with be rotten. I do not know about parentie.”

“You are a wise owl,” said Sam.

“I sleep with open eyes.”

The next day, Sam, Tessa, Jos and Andy drove to Lake Argyle. About halfway between Yardungarl and Lake Argyle Village, Andy directed Sam onto a disused track and then due south over some rough ground.

“Carl Bay was there,” he said.

“Can we drive further?”

“Yes. But if we start making deep tracks, stop right away.”

“Right.”

“Did you get the rain numbers?” Jos asked.

“Yep,” he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “Mos’ rain in January, February, March an’ December, in that order. Then November. April an’ October ‘bout 2 cennimetres each. May to September, not worth talkin’ ‘bout.”

“So we’ve over two months til we really need those roofs.”

“Seems like it.”

“How cold does it get?”

“Went under 20 twice in June.” [68 F]

“How hot?”

“I dunno. Not all that hot.”

“It gets real muggy, though,” Jos added.

“Good,” Sam said, “Good. So we need to shelter from rain, maybe heavy in the summer. But we don’t need to worry about heating or insulating. I need to think. We near the lakeshore?”

“Over there.”

They drove a few hundred meters further. The ground had been soft, but the Toyota now sank about two centimeters into the former lakebed. Sam got out as did Tessa.

“It reeks,” she said.

“Sixty years of detritus, rotting vegetation, some fish. It’ll dry out, but there’ll be more when the rains come.” Sam turned to Andy. “Where’s the new spring?”

Andy gestured toward the northeast.

“Can we drive there?”

“Dunno. We can try.”

“OK.”

Sam drove along a dry streambed and then northeast along a faint track. Twenty minutes later, the ‘new’ stream was visible. So were the track of Jos’ ute. They all got out and drank from the water flowing from the cleft.

“It’s good,” Tessa said.

“A bit metallic. There’s a plastic bottle in the boot. Let’s take some water to be analyzed.”

“What do you think, Andy?”

“We should set up the village somewhat south and west from the stream. We don’t know how the water level will rise when it rains.”

“Smart. Tessa, do you know how the GPS on the satphone works?”

“Sure.”

“Well, let’s determine the latitude and longitude.”

Tessa said: “Negative 16.09, plus 128.94.” Sam wrote it down.

“I don’t know what that is in dms [degrees-minutes-seconds],” Sam said. “But dd [decimal degrees] should be fine.” He looked around. “Can we get back to the road from here?”

“We’ll follow my old tracks,” said Jos. “That’ll take us to Thompson Spring Road.”

Under an hour later they were back in Kununurra.


At 1700, Sam phoned Patrick.

“Hello, wayward son.”

 
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