Tag Archives: Angle Creek

Back to Back Floods

by . Posted on
20 Apr

It seems like a long time ago now as I have been battling the Aliens in my belly, but at the end of February and beginning of March we had unprecedented rainfall and two floods back to back over two consecutive weekends. I didn’t think Ged would get home on the first Friday night (22nd February) because the rivers and creeks were rising so fast, but he got in by the skin of his teeth. Both cars had to be abandoned on the other side of the river and we all had to haul ourselves across the raging torrent on the flying fox, hand over slow hand.

The rain was pounding on the tin roof so loudly we could barely hear ourselves speak, let alone think, and hourly checks of the river showed it rising at an alarming rate. By bedtime the roar of the river was competing with the rain of the roof and while I passed out into dreamless slumber, Ged was kept up all night after the howling wind started to compete in the battle of the elements. Every time he heard a crash he went out and investigated and checked that we were still safe. He brought the farm car into the house paddock and parked it next to the verandah, ready for evacuation to higher ground, because never before has the river risen so rapidly or violently. I slept through . . .

Being floodbound is always exciting – witnessing the power and force of Mother Nature, knowing that we are completely cut off from the world. We had no internet which was really frustrating so we had no idea what was happening in the wider community – we were well and truly marooned. We went for a walk and drive around the property on Saturday morning and saw higher water levels than ever before. Angle Creek had backed up right over the bridge and there was no sign of Paddy or her lovely little Melissa calf. We presumed they had gone up into the bush to get away from the deluge.

The water was significantly higher than ANZAC day 2008 and the force of the flow was incredible. At the end of the house river flat we stood and watched a platypus feeding at our feet – under normal circumstances that is a steep bank down into a shallow river crossing. No sign of Paddy and Melissa but all the other animals were present and correct. It was a housebound weekend and amazing that Ged and Ben got out over all the creeks on Monday morning for preschool and work. The highway had been closed at Long Flat all weekend and when we saw the height and extent of the flooding we were all amazed. Once the internet came back on we realised just how widespread the damage and deluge had been.

I was weak and sick so pulling Ben and I across the river and back in our saggy flying fox was really hard work. I grew muscles in both body and mind! The river was slower than normal to recede, but beginning to go down when the rain in earnest began again. It was like Groundhog Day. Again Ged got home with minutes to spare, but at least this time we didn’t have the roaring winds and crashing trees. We stood at the window and saw a huge gum uproot from the bank and fall down into the river. Closer inspection of the banks during the week saw enormous she oaks had been ripped, roots and all, out of the river bank, gouging great chunks from our land. Now it was all happening again, it seemed incredible that so much water could fall out of the sky and we found streams and creeks rushing out of the bush where we’ve never seen water before. Still no sign of Paddy and the calf.

The second flood was stronger, faster and more powerful and took 10 days to go down so we could finally drive into and out of the property again. So for three weeks Ben and I were hand over hand across 100 metres of muddy brown torrent. Hot, sticky work!

Our river landscape has completely changed. We have welcomed a beautiful sandy beach at our swimming hole below the house, Ged has farewelled a huge rock he used to stand on which has moved 20 metres further downstream, and we have lost more bank. Thankfully all the young she oaks we felled on the other river bank which were waiting to be burnt have all been swept out to sea. Have checked with our neighbour, Pat, and they went straight past her. We went to the beach the other day and I think I saw bits of them in the driftwood pile on the tideline. All the rocks and pebbles at our bridge were completely rearranged and we had to wait for the tractor to come back from its long holiday at the menders (almost a year and $5,500!) before Ged could blade them all back again. It has been a bumpy ride in more ways than one!

But our greatest loss is the beautiful Paddy and little newcomer to Avalon, Melissa. We have looked high and low, up into the bush on rocky crags and escarpments and down along Angle Creek but there has been no sign, or smell. We have watched the wedge tail eagles circling and trudged up to where they land but nothing there either. They are gone and we can only presume that they slipped into Angle Creek and have been swept away to sea. It is hard to believe that we will never see them again and that they are lost to us completely.

Paddy has been here with us since the beginning. She has stood patiently while we all learned to milk kneeling at her huge udder. She has been friend and comforter. We thought she would have to have a bullet when she seemed to dislocate her shoulder over a year ago, but after a month or so of limping she came good, if always a bit slower than the rest of the herd. We had determined that Melissa would be her last calf because of the distension of her udder. But now we have neither.

We can only hope they survived – we have written to the paper to broadcast her loss, but we all have the same feeling, that they didn’t survive. Angle Creek rose so fast and the banks are so steep that it is possible that Paddy went down to water and slipped in, or maybe the calf slipped in and she went after it. We will never know. We are richer for having known and loved her, we are the poorer for her passing.

It’s a reminder that we are at the mercy of the elements, that Mother Nature has more power than we can ever contest. We think we are so in control of our world, but when we look at the sheer naked force of a flood or gaze up at the crystal clear skies at night, we are reminded just how small and insignificant we are.

The Big Flood

by . Posted on
28 Apr
Just call me NOAH!!
Although I haven’t done a very good job of rescuing animals.  Trying to save three stranded cows and calves, they jumped into the river rather than be herded into our place. And I had a platypus literally at my feet this morning, obviously washed out of its burrow by the raging torrent.  By the time I realised what it was and registered that it didn’t look happy, the river had swept it away.  Maybe next time I’ll just stay in the house and pray!
So the rain has continued all week to my utter disgust and despair.  We had a thoroughly wet and miserable day in Port Macquarie on Wednesday where I had my inaugural Pilates class, acupuncture and we went for our 18 week scan.   Normally we have the mst delightful, lovely and helpful of radiologists but this one was a cow and trying to extract information from her, let alone reassurance, was like pulling the proverbial teeth!  So we don’t know what sex the baby is, and with her attitude, I’m more worried now than I was before, so let’s hope I can get out to the doctor on Wednesday for hand holding, brow soothing and ‘there, there, dear’s’
On Thursday we woke late and despondent at yet more of the wet stuff cascading from the sky.  As I had refused to take my car up the now suicidal Tom’s Creek Road one more time this week, Ged had to wait for me and do my morning chores (feeding his horses, chooks etc) and by the time we were ready to go we could see that we had better be quick because the river was rising, the sky was ominous and the forecast for flash flooding and more.  All the creeks on the way up were very high, but just passable, so we weren’t long checking and replying to our emails, doing what we had to online etc before we packed up the computers and headed home.  We came down the other way to avoid the creek crossings and only just made it into our place before the bridge got really scary.  Ged dumped me and the gear and hared out again, leaving his car on the high side by the flying fox. (see it in the picture?)
And through our newly created amazing view from the kitchen window we witnessed the river rise first by inches, then by feet, while we were watching it.  From 3pm to 6pm it had risen 4 feet.  When I woke to go to the loo at 2am I heard the roar and went out to look.  It had risen another 5 or 6 foot and by 6am a further 4 or 5 feet.  Amazing!  The whole of the lower river paddock (the campground) was under water which covered the top of the fence both at the gate end and where the toilet used to be (before the flood!)  At the end of our river paddock (polo ground!) where there is normally a ten-15 foot steep bank there was just water lapping at the cutting’s edge.  The bridge at Angle Creek was sitting in banked up river water and there was only 6 inches of log left showing before that would be under.  At the concrete bridge (where I saw the Platypus) we were looking at 50 or 60 metres of water across between the banks and it was a raging, raging torrent.
The flats on the other side were well clear of water (we went to check our potential new home site to see how high and dry we would be) and were pleased to see that it was a very good Noah spot indeed.
And from about noon the waters have been receding just as rapidly.  But at 5pm when the rain started in earnest again, they started a slow ascent.  Apparently they had 10 inches of rain on Comboyne last night, compared to our 3.  Let’s see what tonight and tomorrow brings . . .
And as quickly as they rose, they have been receding, but we are now at the slow point – it will probably take almost a week for the river to get back down below the bridge again.  I am still marooned! And George will need to rearrange the river stones on the far side of the bridge before I can drive out as the raging torrent has significantly rearranged them.  Meanwhile, the sun has been shining all weekend and we have hope in our hearts again, at last.  I have been sanding back all the benchtops and varnishing them properly – they only got a quick lick and a spit before the wedding.  Ged has discovered white ant in his side of the shed happily chewing their way through all the tasmanian oak flooring for the office.  Oh God!
So he has been busy burning them and it and finding ways of foiling their concentrated campaign attacks on our belongings.  I am going up to Lismore to see a client this weekend and will be grilling her about her long battle against their relentless armies so hopefully when I get back next week we will have a plan . . . .

Ring on my finger at last!

by . Posted on
17 Dec
I have a ring!  It’s very hard to take a photo of but you get the general gist – platinum rails with pink diamonds in between (channel set for the initiated) so it is pretty and practical for my life on the farm.  It has taken a bit of getting used to as I have never had a ring on that finger before, plus it is a very big step so all my commitment phobia has been playing havoc with my brain.  That and my hormones which are on a roller coaster, and creating a hair raising ride for all aboard.  Poor Ged!  He really is a saint . . .
George has gone AWOL.  Partly the fact that the slasher is still broken and sitting on the flat (I think I didn’t tell you that the blade sheared apart one day and speared one of the tyres.  George said it was ‘over use’ and I said it was ‘antiquity’!) and all this rain has kept him from us for weeks.  He couldn’t get the tractor in, he couldn’t slash, he couldn’t fence, he couldn’t clear with the root raker . . .  So we have been George-less which is always quieter, duller and less to report . . . .
I finally saw the platypus the other day.  It was midday and the first sunny day after what seems like months of rain, the river was a mud slick and I was taking advantage of the sunshine getting the washing done.  I saw movement in the river out of the corner of my eye and went to investigate.  I couldn’t believe it was him at first.  It was so out of character to be fishing in the middle of the day but there he was – ducking and diving, rolling and revelling in the day.  Presumably he, like us, had been housebound during the downpours and was catching up on his chores!  He was bigger than the only other one I’ve ever seen – about 18 inches to 2 foot long.  Amazing to have a creature that we studied in school as a rare miracle of nature living just below the house . . .
Which reminds me, we found a yabbie (crayfish to the poms!) in Angle Creek the other day so that should keep the kids occupied in March  . . .
Ged has replaced the platform for the Flying Fox so it is much safer and he and George were chopping down trees on the other side so it is now easier to get on and off at the other side.  We still need to put a new ‘floor’ in the fox itself and build a platform on the other side and then really it will be perfect!  We had the most torrential downpour on Sunday afternoon.  Incredible lightening directly overhead and we had a race against nature to get both the cars out and on the other side of the river, by the flying fox, pump some water before another mud slick came down the river (SOMEONE keeps leaving the hose on and using all the water – I can’t imagine who could be SO stupid!!) and finish the mowing which I was in the midst of.  It was a terrifying and amazing experience to be in the eye of the storm, soothing the horses under the giraffe shed.  Ged had got soaked playing with the pump and when I handed him his raincoat he just stripped off and got naked under it (we do embrace our nudity on the farm!!)
We were cooking supper when the phone rang.  One of the Comboyne dairies had sparks and smoke coming out of their sockets, so the sparky had to go out into the wilds and winch himself across the river and go to the rescue.  At 11pm I got a phone call from a woeful fiance ‘I won’t be coming home tonight’ (quite early days for THAT sort of behaviour!!) but he couldn’t get across Tom’s Creek which apparently was a raging torrent, at least a couple of feet  over the bridge and with big logs bobbing in the white water so the poor love had to go back to his old home (which I have denuded of any semblance of comfort – I made him burn it all, remember?) and sleep on the floor.  So one of the jobs over the holidays is to kit out that abode so if we get stuck again, we have somewhere to get warm, dry and rested!
We may be landlocked but we are river and creek bound!

Sewing, Growing and Losing my Locks

by . Posted on
22 Oct

I admit it – I’m exhausted. Trying too hard to show off my independence and get a lot done while Ged is away. Planting tree tubestock on a cliff face in 40 degree heat. And then slipping down the bank with full watering can and grazing breast, arm, shin etc and rapidly regretting my vision of gorgeous red bottlebrush gracing the bank and attracting parrots from miles around! OK, I’ll get back up there, but it is not a pleasant job!

George has been nagging me to stop exercising my limbs with lengthy runs around the property, and to get my upper body into better shape by broadcasting seed in the Angle Creek paddock he cleared. So finally I submitted to his iron will. And bored myself rigid, learning every rock and root in there as I hand scattered a mixture of rhodes, kikuyu and sawdust from the old mill. I’ve now got muscles in the bucket carrying arm that I never had before, little miss piggy eyes from the dust and a serious aversion to sowing! Please God let it rain now so all my hard work and isn’t wasted.

Summer has arrived and we are having hot, hot days. The ground and eucalypts are suddenly desperate for a decent soaking and as I have since sowed more seed on all the cleared banks as well as the lawn (got to get it all ready for our special day!) so am I. Now that I have overcome (to some extent) my rabid fear of the chainsaw I got into some serious sawing and cut down about 16 She Oaks along the river below the house to improve our view and river accessibility. George turned up and, looking very miffed, asked ‘who’s working for you now?’, indicating the chainsaw massacre. ‘Me!’ I retorted – ‘who else?’. Praise indeed – he said ‘good job’! . . . . I think I am finally earning my stripes!

Talking of massacres . . . more fool me I went to the local hairdresser on Friday (hereafter to be known as ‘The Butcher of Long Flat’) and I don’t know how it happened but she hacked off all my lovely long locks and when I got home I felt like Samson shorn of his strength and beauty. I cried and cried. And then, like a lamb to the slaughter, I called in the morning and requested that she try and fix it. Needless to say, both Saturday and Sunday were spent howling for my gorgeous long hair. Please say a prayer for rapid regrowth and that Ged still loves me without my crowning glory. I have sworn to let it grow and the only person who will ever touch it with scissors again is my Sydney hairdresser! No matter that it’s a five hour drive and $200.00 a cut!! Funny that I, who have spent most of my life with short hair, should be so devastated to lose the weight and femininity of long locks.

I have also been mowing the house paddock with Ged’s awful push me/pull you because mine has died and had to go in for a service. I am praying for a ride on for Christmas! I have planted the Gerberas from Gardens Direct and the lovely seeds Mummy sent after her trip to Canada so the daily watering session is becoming a lengthy meditation. The bloody cows have eaten much of my Angle Creek planting and I am trying to convince the horses not to eat the roses! 400 acres of grass to chew and they all have to pick on my small potential plots of beauty!

However, for all my moaning, it is starting to feel like a garden and now that the metal skip is gone is beginning to look less like a scrap yard and more like the setting for a home. On Saturday night, soaking my aching muscles in a hot bath, I realised that even God couldn’t keep going seven days in a row and she had a rest on Sunday, and I have vowed that from now on so will I!

So on Sunday, after a nice soothing run, and a splash through the river, (when Phoenix surprised a snake with markings I have never seen before. It splashed into the river with Phee in hot pursuit but set an amazing pace with its head raised and tongue flicking and I called Phee away before he got into trouble. Beautiful sight.) I had another long soak with Dick Francis and then trimmed Baby’s feet and washed her mane and tail and then after lunch I took them both down to the river and Baby, who I spent all last summer training not to be scared of the water, just got in and wallowed!

The First Flood

by . Posted on
27 Aug

The first flood!

First it spitter spattered, and then it poured . . . and poured . . . and poured! Monday night saw me hauling the water pump out of the path of the rising tide by car light as the deluge continued (amazing how much strength the fear of flood pumps to muscles more accustomed to mouse than manpower . . . )

By Tuesday I was completely marooned. Funny, I had always dreamed of living on an island, and now I do! The water came up somewhere between 9 and 10 feet overnight. We had about 6 inches of rain over three days across a wide catchment area and most of it ended up in my river! Even Angle Creek was a raging torrent so the only way out or in was to be winched across on the Flying Fox. I braved it on Wednesday when the water was much lower and Ged delivered necessary supplies from the supermarket and the mail (!) but other than that it was just me and the radio, a few paintbrushes, two cans of gloss and a helluva lot of woodwork!

I have been forced over to Radio National as I can’t seem to get the ABC here. I was very resistant at first but the quality, intelligence and relevance of the programmes have won my heart! Very often they are consumed with debate about complex spiritual or philosophical tussles and I love it! My other great love is Classic FM. We are so lucky here to have advertisement free Classical music which isn’t trying to explore the nether reaches of the Classical genre (Radio 3!) but is a good mix of all the greats with avant garde noise only occasionally!

I have also been re-reading Daddy’s book. I am ashamed to admit that ten years ago I had lent my personalised copy to an Aussie Army friend, who disappeared to Darwin with it, never to be seen or heard from again. So I have tracked down a copy courtesy of my trusty friend Google and have been taking advantage of the grey and gloomy skies to meander through his Tour. With the benefit of age, and one would hope a little wisdom, it sheds light not only on the man and his integrity, but the stress my parents were under through that halcyon summer of 1976, and how very alike father and daughter really are!

It seems that only the dates and the places and the people have changed, the conflicts continue somewhere, somehow, somewhy . . .

Last week when I was out and about in Wauchope and scanning the charity shops for a costume to wear to a ‘gangsters and molls’ 40th next weekend, I found a lovely pair of wing back chairs with matching sofa for $80 so I snapped them up and hustled them into Port and the upholsterer. Hopefully by Christmas I will have them home (will I have a home by then??)

Saturday saw Ged and myself barrow loading river rocks onto the end of the causeway to fill in the gouge left by the raging torrent, so he could get in (having recovered from this foul flu that has been doing the rounds, and killing more than it cured. . . ). Then we took his ‘n’ hers chainsaws over to ‘the other side’ so I could have a supervised lesson and we could cut some much needed firewood. Man, it’s heavy!! Then we sourced the spring that I was convinced was feeding my beautiful dam so that was very exciting and I now have plans for further dams in that area. Between George and Ged and their ongoing education of the female city slicker, I will become a farmer yet!

Sunday has been a full on day of activity as the linen cupboard was finished off with beading and its newly painted doors returned to it. The final touches making the pantry perfect, the new front door cut down to size ready for my painting and a huge number of tobacco trees and lantana pulled out of the Angle Creek Bridge area. Ged has taken the week off work to put some serious effort into making a difference here and at least I know that whatever I pay him is money well spent as he is even more of a perfectionist than any of the Mortons!

And I am the one exhorting less bloody perfection and more bloody speed!

Angle Creek and Cupboard Space

by . Posted on
13 Aug
George had always told me that where I could see the vertical rock overhang in the middle of the property that there was a beautiful oasis with wild orchids and I had put it on my ‘to be discovered one day’ list.  But because of the ceaseless search for the best place to site the Glockemann perpetual motion pump, I took it upon myself to walk up Angle Creek which bisects the property and look for the ideal combination of water drop, deep pool etc., etc.,  And I have found paradise.

Crystalline water rubbing the edges off the rock to reveal the iron ore within.  Pristine peace and rainforest and wild orchids everywhere you look.  This is a veritable oasis and shows me that I was so right to call the place Avalon – the red water is a constant, while the white which in times of rain will course to meet it, is currently dry.  For those of you not familiar with the red and white springs of Glastonbury and the ancient, mythical, isle of Avalon, I suggest a visit to http://www.chalicewell.org.uk/

So Ged (who is doing the install), Bill Peck (Mr Glockemann) and a local friend of his (Holger, who runs some sort of spiritual yoga retreat thing locally) and I all schlepped up the creek bed in various stages of awe and wonder.  Holger then emailed me and asked to explore its mysteries in solitude, in order to appreciate the energy of the place, to which I readily agreed.  I had always wondered what sort of landowner I would be – would I share as I expected others to share with me over the years (for my runs etc?) or would I become a miserly protectionist, toting my gun and ‘trespassers will be prosecuted’ signs and rubbing my hands and going ‘mine, all mine’ . . . and I feared the latter!  But the land is its own – not mine, not yours – it was here long before me and will be here long after we are all scattered to the four winds.  We are just custodians and can only nurture and tend, plant and protect for the mere minutes we are here to enjoy it.  And for me who finds God in nature’s daily miracles and peace in its stillness and constant change, it is wonderful to be able to share that with anyone who cares enough to look and listen and feel.

Spring is definitely in the air and whether it is that or the overwhelming feeling of happiness and gratitude for this beautiful place I experience on my daily runs, I have been doing handstands!!  But I am 30 or so years out of practice and landed in some strange way and hurt my big toe which was black and blue for most of the week.  So the lesson there is either that ladies of my advancing years should keep their feet firmly planted on the ground, or practice, practice, practice!!  I am sure you can imagine which method I will be adopting . . . .!!
Saw the first swallow of summer this week and the cherry trees are beginning to blossom so hopefully those deep frosts and bitter winds of winter are behind us and the ‘summer country’ can soon begin to bloom.
Ged and I made progress in the house at the weekend.  It seems I was stuck in the linen cupboard for two days!  We ripped out the shelves and I washed and painted coat after coat of my lovely ‘Clotted Cream’ over their previous ghastly pink, while Ged put up shelves in the pantry.  So one room is 99% finished (two more shelves to go in!).  Admittedly it is the smallest room in the house but it was the one I needed most so I can have some semblance of normality with food and some sacred, dust-free space for crockery, cutlery and utensils!  He has also put up all new shelves in the linen press so as soon as I have painted the doors, there’s another little clean storage area for me before the armies of mice devour all my belongings in the garage!

With the warmer weather the countryside has been ablaze . . . literally.  All the verges and vast acreages are being burnt off and as the rumours of an early start to the permit only season run rife, there is a frenzied rush to get in quick.  The air has been thick with smoke and the orange glows at sunset are not from light years away, but from nearby hillsides ablaze.  It has been beautiful and surreal.  And we haven’t finished burning our place yet!
THE SMALLEST ROOM IN THE HOUSE . . . .!!