By Erik Skye

January 10, 2011:

Today’s blog was to be dubbed “Tropic of Capricorn”, because a drive by that name (looping through the outback) is what I started on. But I only got half way (the northern half) with the Tropic of Capricorn portion of the drive occuring tomorrow. So, “Waltzing Matilda” it is. While reading about Australia from home, this poem, and it's historical significance, came up several times.

Waltzing Matilda is by the iconic Australian AB (Banjo) Paterson, who was born here in Winton, Queensland. Winton is also famous for opals, dinosaurs, tropical outback, and QANTAS (who got their company beginnings here in 1921). I never knew this, but QANTAS stands for Queensland and Northern Territory Aerial Service.

It’s flooding here in Queensland. It’s been doing that for a few weeks now, and I’ve been hearing about it on the radio. When I flew through Alice Springs (Day 23), I noticed everything was green (it’s called the “red center”, not the “green center” for a reason – just not a very good reason at the moment). Andrew (my Australian acquaintance next to me on the plane) confirmed unusual amounts of rain over the past year. As I drive through bush and outback Queensland, I can tell this now lush landscape is usually a desert. Last year around this time, Australians were talking about record droughts, terrible bush fires, and global warming issues.

I finally found some emus who were kind enough to let me take their photo. Emus are cool.

Remember mention of the camels from Day 16? I had forgotten all about them, until I noticed them today. They seemed content, each swishing its tail and loping along.

I was wading through the waist-deep grass in my shorts and flip flops and found a new butterfly. I also realized how vulnerable I was to snakes and spiders. A sharp stick pricked my ankle, and I jumped.

The highway crossed a train track trenched below. The scene showed just how orange the earth is here.

Charters Towers had a monument as you enter, declaring itself “Country Music City”. It seemed like an authentic Australian cowboy town, with most of the men wearing cowboy hats. I almost bought cowboy boots.

Some of the pavement is as orange as the natural earth and rock. It’s beautiful that way, painted with white lines and meandering through the lush green grass and gum trees – all of it accented with the brilliant blue sky dotted with billowy cumulous clouds.

I probably wouldn’t have taken anymore windmill photos on this trip, but I found one of epic proportions in the sleepy little hamlet of Hughenden.

I stopped for a moment in Prairie (there could possibly be four buildings in Prairie, if you counted the public restroom), and I noticed a roar of cicada again. I sometimes look for single cicada, when they let out these orchestrated roars. I think ‘I should to be able to find at least one’. So I looked for a while, finding nothing while being right in the middle of the chorus. Then something flew into my face and was gone. I was sure it was a cicada, but I didn’t even see that one. I gave up.