Martup Pool - a tale of deception

I don't know how many times we've driven past the sign Martup Pool on the trip to and from Perth, and we've never had the inkling to stop. Despite the word pool in the name. There couldn't possibly be a real pool there amongst the straggly grey trees - could there?? Surrounded by paddocks, sprouting crops and lambing ewes. In the middle of this country known for dryness??  

The farm dams are rarely full. The worn out creeks are usually dry with an occasional excuse for a pool glimpsed amid the saltbush and unhappy trees. Shallow and brown and generally unappealing, a far cry from how the country once must have looked.  I usually play a game of trying to glimpse any water at all, while whizzing past.

However on this latest trip to Perth I succumbed to curiosity and had lunch there. What a surprise. There creek was a winter creek babbling and winding between the greeny-grey sheoaks. Grass grew like bright green blankets tossed over the ground. This was pretty enough for a lunch spot and I would have been happy just with that.

But the track left the parking area and disappeared to the north between the trees. So I followed it with curiosity, through an enormous pool puddle over the road. Fun splashing through that! I caught glimpses of a real pool through the trees.

Eventually the track stopped at another parking area beside what could only be described as a billabong. Paperbark lined, wide and deep, and beautiful. According to the signage there it is permanent water and certainly looks to be still fresh. A.m.a.z.i.n.g. That is a ten year deception. It just goes to show that we sometimes have to let go of our Australian perceptions of what a pool is (usually pretty empty of water) and allow the dictionary meaning in ( a small and rather deep body of usually fresh water). Although this pool was BIG - hundreds of metres long.

 Now I realize there are a few other spots along this road that may hold similar surprises in store. I will be checking them out. I have been, and will be into the foreseeable future, making regular trips to Perth to help Dad with his writing. That is a project in itself - I'm just taking care of the technological side of things. So I will have plenty of opportunities to investigate ...

Running Waters

View towards Running Waters

Amid all the aridity in the region of the Skull Springs Rd there are a couple of surprising green and moist oases. The most notable is Running Waters where the creek forms a big pool across the road. And the water there is running, I even recorded it's babbling and gurgling - just because I could.

Skull Springs Road

We camped the night there in the middle of the braided 'creek' high up on a berm of coarse sand, pebbles and rocks. Creamy trunks of tall trees surrounded us, both eucalypts and paperbarks.

Our campsite 

There were pools up and down the watercourse, some clear and running, others still and dusty. There were plenty of birds to be seen and heard and downstream there were ducks and grebes and a whistling kite nesting high in a tree beside the biggest pool. After dark we heard the unmistakable call of the blue winged kookaburra competing with the lowing of the cattle and hum of the crickets for airtime. In the morning as the sun's rays lit the tops of the trees, I watched a family of white-browed babblers peel off one at a time out of their big communal nest above our camp site, churring and chattering as they do.

Downstream pool

In late afternoon there was the loud thumping of blasting some distance away. Throughout the night we heard the sounds of mining vehicles and planes on the move, not surprising as there are a few mines in the vicinity, Woodie Woodie being the largest. What was surprising was the relative quietness during the day - or perhaps our other senses were more occupied in the day, thereby masking the mining sounds?

Looking up

Recently ( in the last few years) there had been a good flood, as the banks of the lower watercourse were eroded down to a spongy mat of tree roots. Flood detritus forming large mats hung high in the branches and draped around tree trunks. The lower couple of metres of paper bark had been torn from the trunks of the trees by the force of rushing water and detritus. Seeing it in the dry season, peaceful and calm, it is hard to imagine the quantity and force of water in flood times.

Miske with flood detritus above her head

'Oaks' by the 'Creek'

Following on from yesterday's post I had to share this early morning with you. The location is Armstrong Creek in Northern Territory east of Docker River (on the WA/NT border). It is found between the Gibson Desert to the north and the Great Victoria Desert to the south.

'River gums' Eucalyptus camaldulensis in the 'creek'

The 'creek' was a wide bed of pinky orange gritty sand, with a pool of water downstream from our campsite, near the main road. It had a few small sand dunes nearby on which the desert oaks grew. We camped overnight in a thicket of acacia between the creek and the dunes. The stars were bright in the clear sky with scorpio swinging overhead. Before dawn we cooked a quick cuppa to warm and fortify ourselves against the cold before we headed out. The morning brought a typical desert sunrise - rich gold and indigo sky - icy cold - my hands could hardly operate the camera. But it is always worth it, to experience the awakening of the morning, to hear and feel and see it.

'Desert oaks' Allocasuarina decaisneana in the morning light

There were black faced butcher birds calling, their melodic call ringing through the stillness. Chattering yellow throated miners alternated between feeding on the nectar of the golden grevilleas and sunning themselves in the tree tips once the red gold orb of the sun had peeked over the horizon. This was a haven for parrots as well: they loved the aged river gums growing in the creekline. We saw and heard port lincoln parrots, pink and gray galahs and corellas with beautiful pale pink bellies. The river gums are a fantastic resource for birds, providing nesting hollows, nectar and a plentiful supply of insects.

Flowers of the 'corkwood' Hakea lorea

The 'desert oaks' bear no resemblance at all to the European oak but they do have a wonderful grain in their timber which is reminiscent of their namesake. The trees grow very slowly, becoming large and spreading in maturity, some apparently aged over 1000 years. Its deeply fissured corky bark protects the trees from fire as does the bark of the 'corkwood', Hakea lorea. These desert regions never cease to amaze me and I keep on going back. I remember reading Nicholas Rothwell and he or someone commented that the red centre captures your heart and you have to keep going back. I think it's true.