On July 2, 2009, the Australian Expedition – Mary, Lidya, R.J., Emmy, Ian, Mary Elizabeth, Matt and D.A. magically condensed their luggage and set off. Although R.J. (and more importantly, his precious burden of laminated photographs) was stopped at security on the suspicious charge of having a watch in his backpack rather than on his wrist and, alas, no one discovered a stuffed isopod during the post-deplaning tidying session, we successfully made it through two flights, SUV and trailer rental and a treacherous system of roundabouts, full of cars driving the wrong way, to arrive two days later at the Princes Lodge, Adelaide, South Australia, Australia. Our respite was brief, however, and soon we were racing through the most super of Adelaide’s supermarkets, maniacally snatching goods off shelves and dazedly consulting shopping lists.
The next day we embarked on the six-hour drive to Nilpena Station, pushing to arrive before dark (in order to avoid the crepuscular kangaroos – the Australian equivalent of hitting a moose or cow). Through Port Pirie, Port Augusta, Hawker and at last the Flinders, we sped on and arrived with the last of the light. After hauling bag after bag of groceries into the tiny Shearers’ Quarters (Nilpena is a traditional sheep ranch), we finally organized and stuffed into place the last of the cans, greens, dairy, bread, dozens of bottles of wine and massive pile of GORP ingredients and collapsed into bed, only to awaken in a couple hours, as the jet lag caught up with us and vindictively pounced.
We spent our days outside in the elements – ranging from three-layer (“mild”) to six-layer (“uncontrollable trembling” – especially when the wind howled) weather. A couple times, mulish blankets of thick clouds or startling downpours drove us out of the field and into Leigh Creek to resupply and descend upon the bewildered owners of the small-town post office with sheaves of postcards. But otherwise, battling the dust storms and the bitterly-cold winds, cursing the faux sun and working frantically during the few brilliant, cloudless days, we excavated, scrubbed, picked, gridded, mapped, measured, latexed, drew, photographed, prospected amongst the float and endlessly observed the panoply of the Ediacara Biota. At dusk each day we returned to (of course) gin and tonics and a very welcome hot dinner, courtesy of D.A., downloaded each day’s worth of photographs (I accumulated nearly 5 Gb of mop-related photographs by the end of the trip) and sometimes watched movies on the South Australia Museum’s big screen, with Mary’s projector – classics like Mama Mia and Short Circuit (“I am standing here beside myself”). We tasted quandong milkshakes, celebrated Ian’s birthday and the carnivores sampled the Parachilna Hotel’s “Feral Platter” – emu pate, camel sausage and other similar delicacies.
Time passed quickly, and soon we were racing to tie up all the loose ends in our fieldwork, give the house a thorough beating to (very temporarily) free it from its thick coat of red dust (I easily reached my lifetime quota for silica consumption and pack up. We sojourned in Cairns for a few days of decompression - visiting the rainforest by way of historic train, snorkeling and scuba diving in the Great Barrier reef, wandering the gigantic organic farmer's market, basking in the strange and wondrous humidity the whole while. But soon it was time to go home. On our last day we arose before dawn, caught our flights to Sydney and L.A. and, several hours earlier (!!) returned to daily life: Riverside in August.
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