Ilkurlka Desert Stars Sessions Part 1
Looking back west - the road to Tjuntjuntjara, WA
The four flight shuttle to the remotest facility on dry land began at the crack of sparrows, from the Motherland to the strip-malled aero-park on the mudflats of Moreton. Them Virgins don't know my preferences, so I'm snug between two enormous buggers on a 737 that has no USB charging. Devilry and risk. The window is shuttered and five hours to go. I wanna look at the land. All the centre. I've never flown this route and I feel deprived. The five year old aspirant flyer hasn’t gone anywhere. Perth's fly-mall will offer it's twenty dollar toasties and doubtless Kalgoorlie will display it's ongoing menace, owned by those that dig down, down, deeper and down. The super pit and sediment slurry. The red-dirt road vectors are rooster-tailed by three to five linked road trains. High fences, corrugated ironed, hospitalised and lingerie barred. Flouro itinerant FIFO militants. But I'm for the dunes, the sharp grasses and the profound quiet. That is, till we start work. >>>> A rock band's worth of backline sits plastic-wrapped on a pallet in the Tjuntjuntjara tyre shed. A Toyota will take it north with the food, swags and a couple of Desert Stars. Apparently the WAGs are coming, too. There's ten songs or so to investigate. Rock ‘n’ roll travellers. Gidgee wood riffs that throw sparks when sawn. Spinifex verse and dreams readying for the winds to fling them away. Sinewy lead-lines willing to snake and slide as they go. Fills tumble as do dry weeds. No drinks. The roads are closed, by the rains, so nobody is coming from anywhere outside of Ilkurlka, so tourists can only dream - the plans of more intrepid motor-nomads in tatters. And for me/us/them, plenty of things might not work out. It’s the very nature of it, although I like to think - One take-off = One landing. >>>> The cafe’s playlist is running a completely worthy ‘70s soul shakedown. Even Dr. John the Night Tripper stuck his head up. The toastie was $20. There’s even a terminal here just for Gina Rinehart’s worker bees. >>>> It's a round-up gig. One's here, one's there, another is over that way. One's coming in on Friday. Planes, taxis and LandCruisers. The Desert Stars can light a fire in seconds, as if with a glance. Food appears then disappears. Things happen as if it's the first and last time. >>>> Dawn comes early in the east of WA, late in the west of SA. The border goes almost entirely straight from the north to the south. When it was laid out, one group started up north and headed south. The other did it in reverse. Where they met, at surveyor generals corner, where SA turns into the NT, they were only 127 meters out latitudinally. The GNSS station at Ilkurlka wouldnt stand for that today. Last time I was with the band I ate roo tail on that spot. It wasn't their country, but it felt right. This time it is their place. And they can see where they are going. >>>> I met Jay outside a short stay place well into nightfall. He’s just been released from hospital after a pneumonia check-up. We’re very near the Boulder Camp - yells and crys split the relative still. Jay and everyone around notices the Toyota I’m driving, just a white single-cab which might as well be sign-posted in gold - It belongs to one alleged Mr. Baird. Everyone knows him. Jay guides me to find Justin, the bassist and mechanic. We drove out to Kurrawang, a christian community. Only the dogs were home, but via text we found him back in Boulder and thus we met at at the BP on the outskirts. Yep, he’s coming… but in two days time. Plans change. >>>> Aboard the aero-caravan, first in the squalling rain, then within a half hour into clear air, Jay informs me the yellow sand is the Great Victoria Desert. Insanely, straight lines of caucasian contruction continually scribe the sight below, pausing briefly sometimes, but always picking up again. They're always looking for something. Yet throughout it all are places where no person may have ever stood, so much as sleep. >>>> Later on descent I see the junction we took north on day one of the Gravel Road Tour in Sept 2018 ... just fine traces in the sprawl. Tjunttjuntjara lies ahead.