Nyikina Mangala men's project, 24th - 28th June 2002

Two elders the project officer and three boys set off on an adventure into the Edgar Ranges looking for a water hole that had not been visited for some time. In fact the water hole had never been visited by any of our party. It was believed through stories from the old people that rock art, grindings and spectacular scenery was to be discovered on entering the gorge that held the water hole.

On the map there seemed to be a number of tracks and cut lines which led straight to the area the water hole was supposed to be. This however was not the case as roads were nothing more that cattle tracks and wash ways from the many wet seasons since any one had driven them. Learning to track goanna and black headed snake made up for the often slow and tedious trip.

As Dampier Downs station is nestled inside the Edgar Ranges a stop off to meet the manager and discuss our plans was a must. Twenty years experience had given the manager a great knowledge of the area and he was only too pleased to help. Involving all parties is a key to the success of the Yiriman project. The whole community needs to be involved if youth problems are to be tackled effectively. The manager of Dampier Downs was a great help and the cup of tea was very fine.

Cutting through the dense scrub the party moved slowly forward on our way to the base of the Edgar ranges, an enormous escarpment that draws the line between The Great Sandy Desert and The River Country. This escarpment is also the boundary between Nyikina and Mangala country. After battling the scrub for several hours a campsite in a small creek away from the icy desert winds was found. Swags were quickly rolled out and the billy set to boil as everyone followed the many fresh goanna tracks for some tucker. By the time everyone returned to camp the sun was almost down, the billy had boiled dry and it was difficult to make out who was who from the dusty faces. A big feast of goanna however was definitely worth the work.

Before the sun had even hit the ranges everyone was up out of their swags, this due equally to the freezing temperature and excitement of exploring the surrounding range for the waterhole. Tea and damper was scoffed as the elders John and Harry scoured the ground for any signs of different animal tracks heading in the same direction. Dingo, cattle, pig and goanna tracks were quickly picked up all heading in the direction of a huge shadow in the escarpments wall. As everyone gathered their things (nothing) the strategy of attempting to find the water hole was discussed. Care had to be taken when approaching waterholes in the desert as pigs and cattle were extremely dangerous. If trapped they would head in the most direct route to be freed and if you were in their way, the instruction was clear; you better move fast.

As the sun rose over the range, cold soon turned to hot and thick jumpers were quickly replaced with thin cotton shirts. No water was carried as the group was following the path of the old people and this meant relying on our ability to find water. It soon became apparent that the dust path we were following definitely headed towards something the animals all needed equally. This of course had to be water. As we entered the gorge and out of the sun, hot quickly turned back to cold however everyone was moving to fast to worry about replacing jumpers. Dust turned to sand and as we rounded a corner, and Harry claimed it was safe, as no pigs or cattle had been in the gorge for a couple of days. Full of trust we forged ahead until finally the gorge narrowed and in the cold shadow there it lay, a small but very deep waterhole. The excitement by the elders wasn't what we had expected however it soon became apparent why. The waterhole we were looking for was a great deal bigger and had an old campsite with rock art on the right hand side. A quick search revealed nothing and it was decided by the elders we would follow the escarpment west.

Heading out of the gorge we walked on looking for more tracks and enjoying the escarpment rapidly changing colours as the sun rose higher in to the sky. As long morning shadows disappeared, the sun revealed a great deal of activity in the plains. Kangaroos, pigs and cattle all scurried hurriedly as they picked up our scent being swept with the wind. Following the escarpment with his eye Johnny, suggested we could enter another gorge about 3 km up. A detour to follow a fresh goanna track resulted in us over stepping our destination by quite a ways which drew a few grumbles from the boys.

Trudging back to the shadow that was quickly disappearing, the tracks once again suggested water was near. Fresh pig tracks sent us traversing high on the gorge wall keeping well out of their way. Peering into the gorge we could see a large cave and what seemed to be small water hole. With there being no sign of pigs we scrambled down into the creek bed and rock hopped our way to the cave. A large cave protected from the wind and wet season's rain looked a great spot for a camp. As we disappeared in to the shadow everything came into focus. The cave indeed was an old camp with several faint paintings high up on the walls. Difficult to make out it seemed the painting represented a large snake or serpent. A large boulder in the middle of the cave had a number of large grinds on it. The waterhole was small and looked as though it would dry up before the new season's rain, so it was decided again that this was not the one we were looking for. Although an exciting find it was still not what we had visited this area for. Tired and disillusioned we trudged further up the escarpment and onto the desert country. The land flat and surprisingly colorful seemed to run away for miles. Indeed the next road was the Canning Stock Route about 700 km away. Not a good place to be lost. Stories were told about the desert people and how they survived in this harsh country as we followed the edge of the escarpment back to our campsite. Tired and dehydrated everyone slumped into their swags after a quick feed of goanna and tea just as the sun was disappearing.

Again before the sun was showing itself, the fire was stoked and the plan of attack was being discussed. It was decided we would go back into the first gorge and walk further up and beyond the first waterhole. The walls of the gorge were vertical, but Harry assured us if there was a bigger water hole further up, there would be a track. After much searching and discussion Johnny yelled for everyone to come and have a look at what he had found. Only 100m into the gorge, a well worn track followed a ledge up and out of the gorge. Looking like it had been used regularly many years before we followed in single file up and out of the gorge. The track rose out of the gorge and into the desert country before weaving back towards the gorge and into a creek. Following the creek the sound of birds could be heard in the distance and the pace quickened. As we jumped down small ledges that would have been raging waterfalls in the wet, the shadows of the gorge were engulfing us in coolness and the smell of water could be sensed.

Sure enough as we reached the end of the creek, a large, deep water hole lay undisturbed for many years. Birds quickly took flight and a special feeling flooded us all. Talking in Nyikina and Mangala, Johnny spoke to the people of these tribes who would have visited this waterhole for thousands of years. As he continued to converse in language we all took a stone from the waterholes edge and rubbed it in our armpit before tossing it into the waterhole; we did this to ask for good rain this season. Indeed a ritual passed on from the old people who would have visited this waterhole. Johnny, Harry and the boys sat quietly drinking from the waterhole, sensing the incredible presence of their people which had been visiting this water hole for tens of thousands of years. You could never measure the impact of such an experience on a youth at risk. The walk back to camp was very quiet as all were deep in thought. As the setting sun exploded the escarpment walls in colour, John and Harry sang the songs of there ancestors while the boys finished off the last of the goanna listening and learning in silence.