The Tanami Desert and fossilised rivers . . .

The Tanami Desert is an ancient landscape of spinifex and many a termite mound. It is hot and to all appearances it seems that not a drop of water could be found. The surface indications are also very misleading at even the first observations. There is plenty of water in fossil rivers, in
deep underground locations. In the days of Gondwana land, not long ago, this land was a virtual muddy swamp. Dripping rainforests, crisscrossing flowing rivers, places where dinosaurs used to tramp. Over millions of years the swamp dried up, sediment in rivers became soil, fine sand. Climatic elements also shaped the vegetation and wild life remaining on this land. Termite mounds provide an even better clue as to what water exists underground. In some places they are very small, where water levels are high, a bigger mound. Providing yet another clue are the juicier than normal desert plants of the Tanami. Profuse low scrub, spinifex grass is taller, thicker, lance-like leaves thrusting to the sky. Vast reservoirs of salt water, undergound, from oil explorations, it is known.Saltier than seawater, would need expensive treatment, for anything to be grown. Along remaining river valleys, groundwater closer to surface than anywhere else.Discoveries of fossilised rocks, Aboriginal paintings of variety of animals tells. Fewer than half of these species survive, due to changing climatic conditions shock. Extinctions were more dramatic and cruel soon after white man introduced grazing stock. Those that disappeared, little- , hare-, nail-tailed -wallabies, bandicoots, kangaroo rat. Never to return, after man, in a little over 150 years, has destroyed their habitat

A meeting in the sky . . .

It's an unusual place, to say the least, a meeting in the sky
whilst hang gliding, attracting me with it's plaintive cry
a wedge-tailed eagle, big, black, circling oh so close
wings spread out and claws extended in attacking pose

Must have been angered by my intrusion, one could tell
narrowly missing in attacking dive, in giant shadow I fell
soaring then to tremendous height, no more than mere speck
so small, realising it's size, it was hard not to loose track

This unexpected encounter with wedge-tail eagle, so high
rekindled a childhood fascination about this bird of prey
as distinctive a part of Australian landscape as our kangaroo
you'l l find it from arid interior to snow covered peaks too

A hunter combining great flying power, extra ordinary grace
magnificent pair of wings, soaring on thermals, high cloud base
fast projectiles when diving, keen eyes, a special purpose tail
claws that are sure to grip, hooked beak, in hunting never fail

Maligned by farmers, killing many lambs, 'twas said in early days
governments encouraged their demise, for a bounty they'd pay
now they are protected, these magnificent acrobatic aerialists
if you've never experienced these birds, a great thrill missed

EVOLUTION of AUSTRALIAN WILDFLOWERS . . .

Evolution of our wildflowers, dramatic, fascinating, conside-
ring the harshness, isolation of Australia. Flowering is a means
of achieving, at appropiate time, fertilisation. This mechanism
plants use to produce seed for next generation.

Being voiceless, flowers evolved colours, shapes, patterns, scents,
distinctive looks, textures,appealing to myriad insects and birds.
It is intriguing, these features, we can only look on in awe, no
artificial world here, nature in all it's splendour, in the raw.

With strategies which have developed over millions of years and
isolation, most flowering plants have spread widely in this con-
figuration. Appearing in the most unlikely places, seashore to inland
plains, mountain tops, river valleys, adapting a suitable strain

The Australian climate, landforms, creating varied environments,
geology, sunlight, space, soils, water, very basic requirements,
adaptability, diversity all a key factor in these most remarkable
plants. Evolving over millions of years, even in the present time.

Ancient soils very poor, no plant life they could possibly sustain,
on close inspection, they are highly specialised systems of living
they do contain.mechanisms for reducing water loss in severe
drought, equipped to recover even after severe bush fires

Yet, thousands of species of plants, on what is on offer, thrive,
diversification and adaptability, the key in a remarkably
fragile environment, some present in all climates, tropical, tempe-
rate, wet, dry, we do have an obligation to help their survival,
the least thing we can do is try.

BREAD and BUTTER pudding . . .

Outback Australia, between Swallow and Camooweal
a whistlestop, hotel, motel, a good square meal
they make you very welcome, you will have a ball
plenty of meat, vegies, bread and butter pud as special

When you ate it, a very special taste you'd find
it always did wonders for your state of mind
some claimed it cured the common cold, the flu
others said it made you race to the outside loo

Many a question of how, what secret, asked in vain
as to what the bread and butter pudding did contain
the usual, was the cook's standard evasive reply
perhaps this is the first time you've come by?

Middle of night, in hotel's kitchen, a flickering light
the cook was at work, what a sight when in full flight
another batch of bread and butter pudding she 'd make
with these tourists, hotel's reputation was at stake

Milk , flour, eggs, stale bread, to make a lovely goo
then there was the most important secret thing to do
substituting the all important raisins, no fancy pack
with a handfull of dead flies from outside the old flytrap

RAINFOREST'S CHANGING MOOD . . .

Misty low clouds, slowly drifting over high mountains
shrouding dense green vegetation with very fine rain
very little penetration of sun's rays through dense canopy
stately, here and there, in all kinds of hues, stands a tall tree

In rainforest an absense of any noticeable bird sound
you can hear the drips of water, from up high, falling on ground
a sodden mess of dead twigs, leaves, shedded bark, on forest floor
fallen trees, rotting, decaying, returning nutrients to soil so poor

Some covered in coloured fungi, red, pink, brown, even blue
tiny pools of brackish water, reflecting mirror like, every hue
intricate cobwebs, droplets of water, hanging like pearls on string
spiders, patiently waiting, for next meal to come by, to tangle in

On gnarled, not always fallen trunks, new leaves emerging in sun
soft yellows, pinks, dappled greens, new life cycle again has begun
throughout rainforest, after rain, birds and frogs starting to call
familiar sounds returning, stars above, night is beginning to fall

Another dawn will soon break, rain temporarely gone, sunlight
frog choruses diminishing, songs of mornging birds again delight
mood of the rainforest has changed, a new experience beginning
there's no turning back, body and soul with new energy ringing

PASSAGE OF TIME CELEBRATED . . .

In the pastel light, after a hot day, in the setting sun
upon the escarpment, in fissure, a solitary Ghost Gum
absorbing, on its twisted white limbs, sun's dying ray
higher up, among rocks, surefooted wallabies play

In the sudden descending blackness of tropical night
the quietness, the landscape becomes a different sight
there are no stark, brilliant colours by light of full moon
eerie shapes, strange shadows, delicate flowers bloom

Crocodiles in water courses, patiently waiting for prey
water buffalo, wild horses, thirsty, edgy, slowly try
on ground and overhead flocks of migratory birds
cacophony of sound, deafening, nothing else is heard

Change of seasons, from dry to wet, tattoo of rain
transforming parched landscape to endless green plain
the walls of sandstone gorges take on whole new sheen
on some, simple Aboriginal paintings, a sight to be seen

The wet season has started, revitalising again this land
torrents of water, in, what was yesterday, river of sand
sometimes the seasons change early, sometimes late
an annual ritual, the passage of time, it helps to celebrate

MAGIC TO DREAM ABOUT . . .

The night air is crisp, illuminated by a brilliant full moon
it's hard to go back to sleep, knowing dawn will break soon
heard thumpings in middle of night, reverberating in still air
huddled deeper into sleeping bag, wondering what went there

Dawn breaks, casting orange glow over sparsely wooded plain
as it gets lighter and hotter, it swallows setting moon again
the morning chorus of suberb songsters, like Sun- and Cat-bird
others, because of smaller numbers, dry habitat, seldom heard

Sheer walls of Gorge, in early light reveal eons of earth's history
before the Dreamtime, richly sculpted rockface, rise majestically
along walking track, deep water holes, shimmering crystal clear
flowering Wattles, Bottlebrush, shade, pause a moment here

Above gorge, lookout providing spectacular panoramic view
a landscape tortured thru the ages, awe inspiring, old, yet new
potholed creekbed, resembling dinosaur foot prints, imagination
small lizards sunning themselves, wild flowers, plenty of variation

Exploring, hiking, photographing, swimming, whatever is the case
time out to contemplate dramatic landscape, beauty of this place
words fail to describe its existence, it seems unlikely and yet
it ever so slowly evolved over time with every sunrise and sunset

Traveling in this amazing land, many more such places to be seen
some are easy to reach, others take a bit of effort if you're keen
now that the holidays are over and back to reality, daily grind
often daydreaming about magical Porcupine Gorge we did find

The KIMBERLEYS . . .

The parched, unforgiving, expanse of what is the Kimberleys
does hide land full of unexpected beauty, Aboriginal mystery
beautiful Wandjina Gorge, Tunnel Creek and the Lennard River
each has it's own surprises that overwhelm, make you shiver

Tall majestic walls of Standley Chasm, waters of Tunnel Creek
bats wheeling in caves, crocodiles slithering into muddy deep
day comes to a close in quiet surroundings, dramatic change
unnerving sound of giant flying crickets coming from the range

Sunrise, sunset, spectacular affairs, imprinting upon memory
one becomes aware why this land is sacred to the Aboriginie
endless expanse of Kimberley counry, empty rocky yellow plain
dry short stunted trees, cloudless azure sky, land crying for rain

Kimberley's isolation, still connecting Aboriginals to this land
ancient people, rich culture, sometimes taking extreme stand
stories of Rainbow Serpent, Earth Snake, others, still being told
a people, proud of ancestral Dreamtime stories, keeping hold

The mysteriousness of this land, makes you want to come back
retracing steps, just wander, experience again The Outback
The Kimberleys, seemingly an inhospitable land at first glance
but, after being there a short while, will delight, give it a chance

WHY EVER GO ABROAD . . .

We've got eucalypts, wattles, unique wildflowers,
deserts and endless plains, panoramic horizons,
nature's beauty and starkness, contrasts overpower
floods, droughts, fires sometimes the landscape scar
sprawling cities, towns far flung, loneliness, isolation,
salt lakes, rainforests at ocean shore, history, folklore,
struggles to farm the land, ingenious innovations,
land of Aboriginal myth, mysterious rock paintings
where seemingly ever none or tranquil rivers flow,
unleashing their destructive powers when in flood,
where majestic eucalypts and river gums grow,
mangroves, tangled roots, smelly bottomless mud
there is mining of opals, emeralds, iron ore, lead, zinc
copper, gold, manganese, our technology and science
is up there with the world's best, diamonds and oil,
in times of world conflicts surely have passed the test,
to many nationalities we are a land of milk and honey,
temperate climates, can follow sunshine all year round,
social security, governments freely handing out money,
no passport needed wherever in this Australia you go,
land of the emu, kangaroo, kookaburra, crocodiles,
brumbies, galahs, rabbits, brolga, cane toad, yabbies,
billabongs, Southern Cross in sky on cloudless nights,
comfortable lifestyle, carry a swag if you like and roam,
having all this, why wouldn't you call it Home, sweet Home.

THE SWAGGIE . . .

In the cemetery there stands a simple wooden cross
on it, Swaggie, caught my eye and imagination
no claim to fame, achievement, just one of society's dross
a harmless soul, nobody knew, a-tramping around the Nation

His old felt hat, worn jauntily, belongings, swag on back
grey whiskers, tousled hair, flowing long white beard
worn boots, army great coat, heading along unknown track
almost a trade mark, about him not many people cared

Leading a simple life, never a worry or ever creating a fuss
communicating with nature, in heart and mind content
a lifelong dream fulfilled, maybe strange to many of us
looking at life in a different perspective, no fairy story

Many a place he had been, hitching a ride or just walk
always as one with nature, according to environment
about his travels, if you asked, only too willing to talk
for many hours, wishing his odessy would never end

Days of the Swaggie, romantic as they may seem, no more
like so many things of yesteryear, passing into Folklore
as in life, so too in death, at rest under a shady tree
no name, no Epitaph, just an all encompassing "Swaggie

A RIVER CARVED OUT OF STONE . . .

Floodwaters over centuries have left their mark in this river carved out of stone
to appreciate it's beauty of towering sheer walls can be done by boat alone
creating caves and overhangs when through sandstone cliffs it forged it's way
walls displaying kaleidoscope of colours by changing light throughout the day

This river in winter it serene beauty, peacefulness, tranquility grossly belie
in summer, when in full flood, a very destructive force when it thunders by
the waters become very deep between the sheer walls, flowing metres wide
eroding the banks, drowning wildlife, uprooting trees, what a terrifying sight

The mirror-like reflections of multi-coloured walls amazing sight to behold
interspersed, here, there, delicate plants, clinging to walls, tenuous foothold
along path subtle formed rock bars,creating foaming rapids, miniature waterfall
great variety of birds, cormorants, fairy martins, rainbow birds, enthrall

Freshwater crocodiles, in search of food in tranquil waters, slowly cruise by
almost a fisherman's paradise, usually catch perch, barramundi, on first try
unlike most Aboriginal rock art found, here not always in caves, rock shelters
often on open walls, although protected from fierce sun and torrential rain

Drawings, some 18000 years old, depict ancestral Spirits, animals of Dreamtime
some of them brilliant colours, red ochres, meticulously drawn in very fine line
scattered in Outback Towns or Stations, few Aboriginal descendants still survive
their traditional relationship with the land and Katherine Gorge being kept alive

Nature is an absolute Wonderland . . .

Smokey blue hills on horizon far away
wonderland of nature, grandiose in its display
from dry inland to where rainforests meet the sea
sun, rain, wind, each an entity, moving in harmony

Cedars, eucalypts, cut down long ago, large stumps
used in ships, houses, coal mines, new leaves in clumps
ribbon of silver, murmuring creek in valley below
gurgling over moss covered pebbles, not interrupting flow

On steep mountain sides, all covered in fine scree
supporting in small crevices, occasional stunted tree
against all odds, they somehow manage to survive
a web of intermingled spidery roots giving it precious life

Myriad small insects dancing, age-old rituals, sub-dued light
wild flowers, vibrant colours, eucalypts of great height
spiders, beetles, fungi, nests of birds, bush honey bees
brumbies, wild pigs, foxes, dingos, kangaroos, roaming free

Nature's way, micro organisms at work well below ground
making sure the bush's life cycle keeps going round
each creature in its own way contributing, not stopping toil
breaking down twigs, leaves, old logs, to enhance the soil

Waterfalls, ever changing sight, waterbirds and frogs,
wombat, lizards, snakes, sleep in hollows, burnt out logs
to experience nature's wonderland close at hand, go there
you'll never regret, immerse yourself in it, its everywhere

PAUSE A MOMENT . . .

Go and spend a night in Australian bush, great thrill
titillating your senses, heart and mind with wonder fill
a brilliant sunset at end of the day, moon slowly rising
millions of stars above you, the light subdued, surprising

Nowhere else, even worldwide, only in Australia, will you see
koalas, possums, sugar gliders, foraging in tree's canopy
diversity of insects, age-old rituals performing, air is light
boulders, grotesque shapes, mountains, magical sight

Wombats, flying foxes, emus, frogs in billabong croaking
bush's smell , flowers, unusual noises, thought provoking
wallabies, kangaroos, like silhouettes in pale moonlight
pause now and then, really listen to sounds of the night

Dingos howl, creaking of dry leaning old trees, owls hoot
gurgling of nearby creek, crunching of twigs underfoot
ant-eaters, echidnas rummaging for food on forest floor
magic moments in time, ocean sounds on faraway shore

Enchantment of bush by night soon lost by rising sun
whispy mists, light of dawn, the magic of night has gone
cadenza of morning bird's chorus, like a symphony
the experience lingers in your mind, everlasting memory

THE LITTLE BUSH PUB . . .

Smokey ceiling, wooden floor, bar of finest teak
this then is the bush town's cosey litle pub
many stories had been told, if the walls could speak
of generation after generation, was the social hub

Tales of floods, droughts, poor seasons, prosperity
battles with bureacracy, rabbits, foxes, fires won, lost
birth, death, some tragic happenings, just like big family
produce prices, up or down, banks increasing loan cost

Publican, friendly bloke, muscular, by any means big in size
barmaid, redhead, buxom, sometimes a little too rough
he served the regular drunks their beer in blocks of ice
she fixed the rowdy ones, one stare was usually enough

Jack, he'd tell stories, so unbelievable and equally bizarre
Bill naturally voicing his opinion, its all a load of bull
Cockey, perched in cage, screeching, on end of bar
all the others, quietly drinking, shut-up you bloody fool

So they kept on merrily drinking, beer, spirits and stout
paying, in their intoxicated state, scant attention to time
one more, vaguely remembering which way was the way out
let alone driving their car safely home in a straight line

Maybe you've been inside these charming little country pubs
scattered all over in bush towns in this great land
many now turned, at considerable cost, into cold, modern clubs
in their country town's bush setting, they look quite bland

OLD, BUT STILL LIVING . . .

The deserts of Australia are a facsinating place
nights very cold, days hot, shimmering in heat haze
little rainfall, sparse vegetation, few animals survive
in harsh environment, early explorers lost their live

Some birds have adopted special skills, numbers are few
surviving on little water, sucking at plants for morning dew
some fish and frogs hibernate in tunnels underground
awaiting seasonal rainfall, if and when it does come around

In the distance a few camels, brumbies roam this land
nibling at sparse vegetation, dry, half buried by sand
a lonely dingo prowls, of human beings it's not shy
solitairy falcon circling above, looking for some prey

Hostile environment, no landmarks, very intimidating
and yet full of life, not changed for eons, facsinating
many a season has passed, some with no rain at all
many seeds laying dormant, waiting for the rain to fall

The Simpson Desert, ancient sea, dry since Gondwana land
as far as the eye can see, unrelenting expanse of fine sand
age old inhabitants, interacting elements, unforgiving
mimicking, mocking ancient sea shore, old, but still living

TRAVELING OUR BEAUTIFUL AUSTRALIA . . .

The road curved over old wooden bridge, revealing breath-taking view
this frequently happens, unexpected in your travels, nothing really new
there are so many places to choose from, hard to say which is the best
each it's own particulair charm, all very inviting to stay longer and rest

A place with many walking tracks is Croajingalong on south east coast
the variety of flora, fauna, incredible scenery, of which it proudly boast
inland as far as eye can see, dense shrub, wildernes, bushwalker's dream
among stretch of coast sand dunes, steep granite cliffs in sunshine gleam

In many inlets water like diluted black ink, fettucine kelp waving in swell
you can experience Australian fur seals here, sheltered, doing very well
be prepared for deafening noise, the stench of rotting fish, it fills the air
maybe so as not to spoil your precious holidays, don't linger too long there

A very diverse environment, steep gullies, coloured lichen, moss, waterfall
on sides of heaped scree, water gums clinging precariously, spindly, very tall
many varieties of orchids, endangered wildlife such as the Ground Parrott
stand still, pause a moment, maybe a Gippsland Water Dragon you'll spot

As darkness falls, one can indulge in spotlighting for wildlife in tree canopy
possums, sugar gliders, koala, small tree kangaroo, almost extinct, you see
it is not hard to spot Crimson Rosellas, Black-faced Shags, maybe Bower Bird
wake up in the mornings to chorus of diverse birds, the best you've ever heard

Calls of Lyre Birds, Gang-Gang Cockatoos drifting on breeze, kites on thermals
experienced only minute detail from all that's to see, senses did enthrall
all this needs more than a lifetime to see it, much, much longer to understand
sadly time came to say farewell, goodbye, leaving behind Nature's Wonderland

IN THE MUTED LIGHT OF . . .

In the muted light of daybreak, barely the horizon one could see
small bats capturing final mouthfulls, then disappearing in hollow tree
fluted pipings of pied butcher birds drifting on still, cool, morning air
an almost sacred atmosphere, not being disturbed by humans being here

Perfect backdrop to dawn chorus, whispy mists rising from nearby billabong
as the dawn light slowly increases, more birds join with their beautiful song
changing colour of morning light seems to be playing tricks before one's eyes
turning sandstone cliffs, all around, into myriad colours, as sun rises in sky

This is Mt Mulligan, formidable monolith, bigger than Ayers Rock, no less
swelling in size as light increases, rearing out of plain, appearing like fortress
pock-marked by eons of wind, rain, ochre coloured sheer cliffs, cloudy sky
ideal nesting place for peregrine falcons, protected, bird's eye view of prey

Here and there stands of skeleton trees, warming their 'bones' in midday sun
tiny leaves portruding from bleached branches, fully grown, not just begun
struggling up the last steepest stony incline, savouring the view to be had
westerly Great Dividing Ranges, easterly Feathered Ranges, dry, khaki-clad

Permanent waterhole, beginning of creek, in deep gorge of red rock disappearing
a ravine with reflective rock pools, lush ferns, shapes of kangaroos in clearing
in dim recess of cave, very easy to miss, beautiful, but faded paintings of animals
wasp nests, ghost bats, termites, soot from long ago campfires of Aboriginals

Presence of Aboriginal artists of times past, in almost sacred silence one could feel
whose hands, twig brushes, made these images on ancient stone canvas, surreal
Mt Mulligan's landscape remarkably diverse in flora, fauna, craggy cliff faces
in overall history, environment of Australia, one of those truly facsinating places

WELCOME TO OUR WONDERLAND . . .

Traveling this country many a panoramic landscape unfolds
heightening your expectations, senses, curiosity what it holds
soon you'll reach destination, striking camp for a few nights
this is The Grampians, after long journey you've finally arrived

Getting up early to climb lookout at campsite before sunrise
to experience beginning of new day, a never to forget surprise
you can see the glowing ball of rising sun, casting it's orange hue
over early morning mists, against a sky full of promise and blue

The muted light of daybreak slowly erasing any darkness of night
some ranges like islands, promotories, changing in early light
a wonderland awaits one of flora, fauna and Aboriginal art
so much to see and do, difficult to decide where, how, to start

Red-headed Gang-Gang Cockatoos, Wallabies, Emus, maybe a snake
Grey Kangaroos, Corellas, squabbling, having a drink at mountain lake
you may see Brush-tailed Possums, Sugar gliders and Wombats
a large feral population of Deer, Goats, Pigs, Rabbits and Cats

Silver Banksia, Blackwood, deep mine shafts, no ruins to be seen
nature has claimed back once prosperous gold diggings, Mafeking
Snow Gums, Mountain Grey Gums, Stringy Bark, may, many more
wild flower varieties to numerous to mention on forest floor

The old quarry, rusted machinery, stone masons long since gone
many houses, important buildings, built with this beatiful stone
you see massive stumps of Messmate, Mountain and River Gum
mesmerising magnificient waterfalls of the escarpment they run

Go hiking, climb a mountain, hot air ballooning, canoe on the lake
Hawks, Eagles soaring, cartwheeling in the sky, pictures to take
when you've seen it all, unlikely, quietly contemplate the overall
you too will say: "The Grampians for a holiday, mate, it's got it all!"

Portrait of a Lady, She has beatifully coloured eyes,
alluring and good looks, quick, as usual, on her feet
aware of admiring sly glances, she herself wasn't exactly
shy. Spitting image of her parents, no doubt plenty of
admirers wherever she went. Personality plus, sensing
when talked about, any occasion willing to attend. Riding
on a motorbike, style supurb, great, without helmet, wants
to feel wind on her face. Drawing attention like Queen of an
estate, always prim and proper, everything in it's place.
Living on a farm, helping with cattle, sheep, when nothing
to do pokes around in machinery shed. Never too lazy, no
shirking in earning her keep, keeping in good shape, golden
rule, early to bed. Very seldom took offence, hardly ever a
grizzle, her life certainly wasn't easy, sometimes a bit of a
hard slog. Didn't like being shouted at, but, turned at a whistle,
contrary to your thinking, she was a very well educated and
wel bred Sheepdog.

Exploring Australia's magnificient coastline . . .

Traveling Australia, no-one forgets spectacular South Coast
of rock formations,all shapes, colours, sizes, does it boast
by huge waves, winds without abating, it's constantly lashed
many a sailing ship, in early days, against the rocks was dashed
not even rocks withstand this relentless pounding of these waves
over thousands, millions of years, creating wierd shapes and caves

Their energy expended, traveling endless kilometres of open sea
blowholes, far inland, foam, spray above cliff tops, a lone tree
there are reverbating thumps, booms, like thunder at a distance
in rough weather, don't go near edge, you're taking a big chance
residual towers of harder rock, spectacularly rise from rough sea
near Port Campbell, in fine weather, "Twelve Apostles" you'll see

Inland are large areas that are forested by twisted Mallee Tree
big knobbly underground roots, wildflowers bloom in Spring
Papery Sunray, Poached Egg Daisies, many more, large, small
if you listen, stand still, you may see Mallee fowls, hear their call
most lakes connected to Murray River, overflowing after heavy rain
these, for many wetland birds, becomes their breeding domain

White-bellied Sea Eagle,Pelican, Black Swan, variety of ducks too
Mulga Parrot, Egret, Euro, Western, Eastern Grey and Red Kangaroo
traveling along The Great Ocean Road, many an unfamiliar sound
different horizons, ever changing coastline, scenery will astound
there are spectacular vistas on cloudy days with the varying light
elements of Nature, relentlessly eroding The Great Australian Bight