Left Ernabella midmorning after finalising a few things at clothing store. The boys came by and got some clothes and sporting goods. A lady came by and grabbed a few items. It seems they don't have much money or any money, really. Sad and strange. Saw Prudence and her man this morning. He is a really strong, fit guy. Tall and very straight. I talk with Jack Crombie, a bronco rider from the 40's/50's. Done everything. Travelled the world, competed in the Calgary stampede. A good man, now 75, born in a humpy out the back of Kenwall Park. Walked naked, caught their food. Brought cattle down from Queensland, Northern Territory, down the Birdsville Track. Had a packhorse, bedroll. Worked night and day. Tinned food.
But the man I want to speak to we have still not seen.
We leave Ernabella and head out to Peters place, north and west of Ernabella. Peter Nyaningu's place. 57km of red dirt road through a desert landscape of the Mugrave Ranges. Red rock ranges. Out of the red landscape we meet Peter driving down the road in his old landcruiser. We stop, chat, tell him we are heading out to his place. He seems genuinely pleased. He grips my hand softly and looks into my eyes. He holds my hand for a good while, while he takes in Alans conversation. We go our separate ways along the red earth road, crest a rise and look out across a vast basin in the landscape ringed by ranges, a "cauldren", flat, expansive, the heat of summer I imagine. There would be no crossing this land in summer.
Our destination, Peter's place is beyond the ranges on the distant horizon, across the cauldron. We head across, an easy crossing in the Toyota Landcruiser and stop midway. Peter a full-blood aboriginal elder is the traditional owner of this land.
Rugged up for winter; coat, shirt, shirt, shirt and beanie. Long white beard. Eyes are small in his face but seemingly well seeing. Nearly 80, some teeth missing. Done a bit of travelling. His father came from over the border in Western Australia. Peter born, exact date a question mark, 1930 ?. Used to walk to Ernabella in a day, 57km. What did he carry with him?
At age of 6 he went with his father to Uluru. Walking. 300km or more return.
"What did you carry"?
"spear and womera. no clothes. Have to be fit, strong, - young man".
"Where did you camp"?
"many people from your clan/tribe. no blanket, no clothes, just sleep by the fire".
"What did you eat"?
"night comes quickly - no lights, the fire-side, sometimes dinner or none."
"How did you know where you were going?"
"fires from others indicated their presence, their occupation of the land, we see and go"
"Why Uluru?"
We sit under the verandha of the visitors digs talking to Peter, ancient history and modern day dilemmas. The sun sets under and warms us as we chat. We chat until the sun dips below the horizon. We talk some more. It is a beautiful, quiet, spare landscape. Sacred. We breath it in. I feel priviledged.
But the man I want to speak to we have still not seen.
We leave Ernabella and head out to Peters place, north and west of Ernabella. Peter Nyaningu's place. 57km of red dirt road through a desert landscape of the Mugrave Ranges. Red rock ranges. Out of the red landscape we meet Peter driving down the road in his old landcruiser. We stop, chat, tell him we are heading out to his place. He seems genuinely pleased. He grips my hand softly and looks into my eyes. He holds my hand for a good while, while he takes in Alans conversation. We go our separate ways along the red earth road, crest a rise and look out across a vast basin in the landscape ringed by ranges, a "cauldren", flat, expansive, the heat of summer I imagine. There would be no crossing this land in summer.
Our destination, Peter's place is beyond the ranges on the distant horizon, across the cauldron. We head across, an easy crossing in the Toyota Landcruiser and stop midway. Peter a full-blood aboriginal elder is the traditional owner of this land.
Rugged up for winter; coat, shirt, shirt, shirt and beanie. Long white beard. Eyes are small in his face but seemingly well seeing. Nearly 80, some teeth missing. Done a bit of travelling. His father came from over the border in Western Australia. Peter born, exact date a question mark, 1930 ?. Used to walk to Ernabella in a day, 57km. What did he carry with him?
At age of 6 he went with his father to Uluru. Walking. 300km or more return.
"What did you carry"?
"spear and womera. no clothes. Have to be fit, strong, - young man".
"Where did you camp"?
"many people from your clan/tribe. no blanket, no clothes, just sleep by the fire".
"What did you eat"?
"night comes quickly - no lights, the fire-side, sometimes dinner or none."
"How did you know where you were going?"
"fires from others indicated their presence, their occupation of the land, we see and go"
"Why Uluru?"
We sit under the verandha of the visitors digs talking to Peter, ancient history and modern day dilemmas. The sun sets under and warms us as we chat. We chat until the sun dips below the horizon. We talk some more. It is a beautiful, quiet, spare landscape. Sacred. We breath it in. I feel priviledged.
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