I visit the Central Wheatbelt area in Western Australia, on a regular basis. Although it is only around 260km, it is around 3-3.5 hour drive East of home for me. The highway is dangerous. It runs east and west, so some drivers are always driving into the sun early morning or at sunset. It is a narrow road, and used by roadtrains and with open farmland on either side, there is always danger of fox and kangaroo as well, at dusk.
But the landscape is stunning at sunset. For years I’ve been trying to get to this region at the right hour to capture it. I often see the sun setting in my rear view mirror and it takes my breath away. This month I timed it almost right.
In a paddock between the small township of Kellerberrin and Merredin a lone tree stands. I have photographed this tree many times and each time, it speaks the same message loud. Against all odds, still standing tall. The message has become my daily mantra.
Between Doodlakine and salt lakes at Baandee Lake I had to stop in near darkness and take this photograph. In the silence, the sky roared in colour, and soon it was dark.
There was a time I did not have the temerity to get out of my car to take photographs on this trip. It is a lonely drive when the trucks have zoomed on. I’m anxious to just get to my accommodation. These pictures are special to me because the landscape, nature, spoke louder than my inner voice of anxiety. I’m glad I listened to it.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
In response to: A Photo a Week Challenge – Open Topic
The water pipe that runs from Mundaring Weir in Perth to Kalgoorlie, a distance of over 500 kms has been supplying water to the Goldfields for over a hundred years. Driving alongside it or watching it meander through fields gives me pause for reflection. The building of this infrastructure would have been gruelling work in heat with minimal comforts by those who may have yearned to be prospecting for gold instead. Little would they have known, their contribution is a lasting legacy since 1896. It is also ever present company, for solitary travellers, like me.
I’ll aim to arrive just before sunset. It’s always a challenge to get to the town before it is too dark. I dislike overtaking slow traffic on this road. At this time of year, I expect oversized farming machinery and drivers, all wanting to get to wherever, five minutes earlier. I usually stop at a rest stop alongside paddocks between Kellerberrin and Merredin and enjoy a few minutes of quiet. Always different, it’s a highlight for me just before destination.
Whether it is light or dark, the painted silos announce I’m either entering or leaving town. I love them. They are the bright and beautifully thought out art by Kyle Hughes-Odgers, his canvas, 12 storeys high.
I hope to stop for a few minutes at Merredin Peak, where the foundations of the Military Hospital are still visible. Transported from Palestine in 1942, it was a hive of activity for those recovering from war and those who cared for them. It is a place of paradox, historically and contemporary. From the ravages of war, they came here for the peace, to heal. Ironically, in this place of peace, one remembers war.
Breathe in. Breathe out. My senses now acute.
There is someone having breakfast above me. I move my lens away from the remnants cast aside carelessly.
On the other side, the rhythmic thump on dry leaves tells me there’s a grey kangaroo in there. Somewhere.
I close my eyes. I hear the sea in the Marri tree tops. This, in deep Wheatbelt country.
The tops are crowned with flowers, with some blossoms hanging low, like fruit of the vine.
And, that’s when I saw her. She looked bewildered at my presence.
But not as bewildered as me, to find a shiny bauble in this bush country.
A Shared Space 
You must be logged in to post a comment.