Wake up was early. This was a bane and a benefit. I hate waking up early (and at all for that matter), but I knew that the earlier we woke up, the more we would fit in. The Ombudsman was moving about (those were the sounds that woke me) and Mr. Rabbit had the television on and was watching something. I exited my room and sat down at the dining room table to watch the television.

Gracing the screen was a large, red, strange lizard of some sort. His name turned out to be Yamba, and he was the star attraction of the show ‘Yamba’s Playtime’ – a show on Imparja television. I felt a degree of sympathy for my friend the Ombudsman then – while city free-to-air stations are bad enough, here we was watching this Imparja.

Toast was had by all (I had picked up Vegemite at the local supermarket the day before) and, after everyone had showered and dressed, we were off. I remarked at how the Ombudsman was happy to leave his garage door open in this area. He said there was nothing in there to steal (a true enough fact). I then wondered to myself if the locals would be eager enough to get through the fibro wall that separated the garage and the main quarters.

We had planned our day’s adventures for the most part. Our first stop would be a luxurious drive through Kinchega National Park via a drive through of Menindee where we were too afraid to walk the day before. We were driving in the Ombudsman’s car – a two door something that was designed for urban life (sealed roads for example). Kinchega National Park, however, was designed for people with those silly 4WD’s. The road we found ourselves on was bumpy, rough, and dangerous. However, we held faith in the car as we entered the national park.

On the right as you drive in from the way we entered there is an Aboriginal burial ground. We drove around some more, then decided that this wasn’t the most exciting place – and thus not worth the $7 entry. What we wanted to see was the great Menindee lakes. We made for the nearest exit, passed these signs, then went on to our next stop: Water.

No imagine, for a minute, a city clicker who has never been to this part of the world. The idea that there is a massive amount of water in the middle of sand and death is amazing. I wanted to see such a sight – as did Mr. Rabbit – and this was our next stop. The lake in Menindee, however, are elusive. Not because they move around (that’s just silly), but because the three of us are on the verge of incompetent at finding things on a map. Regardless, we managed to get within the general vicinity of where the water, Paramaroo Lake to be precise, should be and drove around more bad roads. Surely we would be able to see gigalitres of water on the ground? After a while we saw a shimmery glimpse of water. Exclamations and yells later, we saw it again. The Ombudsman pulled over and we got out, headed in some direction towards that elusive water. Finally we saw it, and it was rather amazing if I do say so. Not amazing in that it was spectacular, rather that is was something unique. There, in the middle of nowhere was a giant lake. You can begin to see how much water was missing from those photos due to the drought. I suspect those dead trees are usually underwater. Thinking it safe, we climbed down the embankment and walked towards the water’s edge. First it was dry sand with some brown weeds. This was a chance for an 18 Cup photo. This was followed by something else that is unique to Lake Paramaroo. Underfoot became strange – imagine walking on a dry sponge. The same sort of feel and texture I thought. It was obviously a dead plant that grow underwater. Here was another photo opportunity for The 18 Cup.

This dying plant intensified in spread. I imagined what it would have looked like had the water been there.Green perhaps? Brown? Who knows. Then, for some odd reason, it thinned out, and where the ground was fertile and good for growing, greenery flourished. But the ground was still showing evidence of the drought – dry and cracked. Further ahead the greenery thinned out, and none of us thought to wonder why. When we made this empty part, we had a closer look at the ground. It looked like something so Martian. I asked the Ombudsman to do the pitch test – here he is doing his best Tony Greig impression.

All of a sudden, where I was walking because very soft and loose. It was obvious that there was much water in the ground. I called out to my friends to watch out. It was peculiar because the ground only had what I would call patches of mud and then ‘paths’ of dry that you could easily walk on. My warnings went unheeded by one (guess who?). Mr. Rabbit raced towards the water … and found himself sinking in muddy mud. Here he is making an escape. And here is a far view of his shoes. And here is trying to navigate his way out of the patches.

Having noticed the patches and witnessed their effects, I proceeded with caution – though the patches. I discovered that animals had a better time getting to the water, ad there were emu and other tracks leading to the water that went right through the wet patches. I knew a bit about mud and water from my days in Scouts. I knew that mangroves have roots, as do trees. I also knew that these roots and plants would firm up the ground. Thus I tried to tread on or near to them if I couldn’t get past the patch on dry ground. It was most successful, getting me much closer to the water (my photo) than Mr. Rabbit got (his photo), or the Ombudsman dared to go (a view of how far away he was at this point in time. He is jumping up and down on the very cracked Earth in that photo, trying to leave an impression on the ground), and with nice and clean shoes. And some people think I know nothing …

We met back up, and the other two posed for a spontaneous photo. One final look back to the water and we made for the car. We passed this tree – I don’t know why I took a photo of it. We passed this bottle – a relic from long ago by the looks of the label – another chance for an 18 Cup photo. I wondered how long this bottle had been sitting on the lake bed, who threw it, and what it’s story was. I hazard a guess, but I was probably wrong (it included pirates). Annoyed that I had gone through Europe and hardly taken a photo of myself or the people I met up, I resolved to not fail in that department again. I forced my friends to pose for another photo – this time with me in it too. We happened upon some strange fruit there, before the Ombudsman decided that Mr. Rabbit had to clean off his shoes before getting in the car. Here they are before and here they are after his efforts. Not much change, such was the stickiness of the mud. And here are Mr. Rabbit’s socks. I took a photo because the only other people I know with those socks are my sister, one of her female friends, and my mother who regales stories of when she had knee-high rainbow socks that had toe-holes. We had another last look around, then were back at the car. What a shonkey photo of me that is.

Leaving Lake Paramaroo, we passed another entrance to Kinchega National Park. Thsi time there was advertisements for the local school – the school the Ombudsman was now working at. Apparently they had planted some trees in the park. I thought that is they exceeded a certain number, surely that would be classified as child labour. We headed back to the Ombudsman’s house – really so that Mr. Rabbit could clean his shoes – to prepare for the next leg of our day trip.

Thomas.