Sepia Me' - Memoir of a Trip Through the Desert - Entry no# 5

It’s true what they say, ‘you can smell the storm coming’. An unmistakable semblance - the ambrosial perfume of cloud water, the emulsified balm of sweet air; even such a light breeze should tell you - the heavens rile, a storm approaches. Although mystical, nature itself is unerring, methodical and almost calculating - more accurately, everything simply falls in to place.

Some distance from the beginnings of the Tanami desert I could see the wet season approaching. Dark and foreboding storm clouds block out the sun completely, like entering a deep ocean trench, silent and serene; the only place in the world where the ground lies beneath and the ocean sits warningly in the sky, all hell is going to come pouring down. Millions of years ago this land was home to sea creatures, basin of the South Seas; once a year the ocean returns to remind us –one day it will claim this basin back. During this time the Tanami track is impassable, teeming floods present an awesome danger which demands respect. Cumulonimbus - the storm cloud, the butcher; carries all the power of a god insane.

My traveller friend has woken. For the moments leading up to the storm there’s a bitter silence between us, as the ocean in the sky begins to thunder. I can feel it in my body and it’s terrifying. Last sun light is finally engulfed by the great monstrosity flourishing through the heavens above us, it has only just begun. Not driving on for much longer I divert off track and set the car on an area of tough grass. The ground should be solid here, roots keep it in tact. I set the ropes up, hammering in the spikes, tying down the car as best I can. Around me are the termite mounds, they go on for as far as I can see….’poor buggers’. Water has right of way.

In the evening, the scene is that of utter decimation, a cataclysm of epic proportions.  The mirror image of a clear sky presents across the endless flood plains, the ocean has reclaimed the land. Water has almost engulfed the tires on my car and so I wade out into the cool water, almost waste deep, looking for the ends of the rope.  What a sight…the big termite mounds are left, their tops standing out over the still glaze and shadow like a sundial. The orange sun and sky reflects the coming twilight cross the water, as if it were fire. Few trees float by.

 Looking at the sundial shadows of the termite mounds, it’s five o’clock. 


David G. P. Martin - Aus, Jan 21 20010