The family of American journalist Marie Colvin has filed a lawsuit saying the Syrian government deliberately targeted her in the Homs bombing which killed her four years ago. Her sister Cathleen Colvin, whose children are Marie’s heirs, filed the suit through the non-profit Centre for Justice and Accountability (CJA) saying Syria had rejected a “reasonable opportunity” to arbitrate the claim. The CJA says their lawsuit is the first case seeking to hold the regime of President Bashar al-Assad responsible for crimes.
Marie Colvin, 56, died on February 22, 2012 along with award-winning French photographer Remi Ochlik when their building was hit with, according to official Syrian sources, an “improvised explosive device filled with nails”. The Syrian government claimed the bomb was planted by “terrorists” but survivors of the attack say the building was deliberately targeted by the Syrian Army. The lawsuit called Colvin one of the great war correspondents of her generation and accuses “Syrian government agents” of being responsible for her death. She had worked for the Sunday Times for 25 years covering war zones including Sierra Leone, Chechnya, Iraq-Iran, East Timor and Sri Lanka where she lost an eye in a grenade attack.
In 2012 Colvin was reporting on the Syrian revolution which had started the year before. The Syrian Army launched a massive military operation in Homs, the country’s third largest city laying siege to rebel-held suburbs. Despite a media blackout, Syrian citizen journalists used YouTube, Skype and Facebook to get the truth out to the world. Local poet and activist Khaled Abu Salah and others set up a media centre at a secret location on the ground floor of a three-storey house. There they produced video blogs and hosted foreign journalists including Colvin. The Assad regime accused Salah and the Media Centre of being “terrorist collaborators”. In early February 2012 the army had begun a scorched earth campaign against the Baba Amr suburb of Homs, where the studio was located, with civilians subject to artillery and sniper fire.
The world was starting to take note. Colvin and other journalists gathered at Beirut Airport where they were smuggled into Syria. Colvin had seen the Media Centre’s video footage and was determined to cover the siege. She travelled with British photographer Paul Conroy and Syrian translator Wael al-Omar. They decided against an official Syrian visa after French journalist Gilles Jacquier was killed in Homs in January, with other journalists believing he had been led into an ambush. Colvin, Conroy and al-Haems made it to Homs using back roads and a 3km-long tunnel.
Colvin was there for two days as the neighbourhood took heavy shelling and then returned to the border where she filed her report for the Sunday Times. A day later (February 20) they decided to return to Homs where they trapped by artillery fire. Despite her vast wartime experience, she said the situation inside Homs was the worst she had experienced. Things were about to get worse still. On February 21 Colvin made an audio satellite broadcast from the Media Centre which was picked up by CNN, BBC and Channel 4. “There are rockets, shells, tank shells, anti-aircraft being fired in parallel lines into the city,” Colvin said. “The Syrian Army is simply shelling a city of cold, starving civilians.” They bunked in the back room of the house with French and Spanish journalists. The regime knew Colvin and others were coming from Lebanon and tracked their movements to the media centre. The lawsuit said a decision to attack the centre with artillery fire was taken at the highest level by the war cabinet which included Assad’s brother Maher al-Assad and was carried out by the military with help from a secret government death squad known as Shabiha (derived from the Arabic word for ghosts).
That night the Syrian Army at Homs was tipped off about the precise location of the media centre and the information was relayed back to Damascus. The information matched the location of Colvin’s intercepted broadcast signal and officials spent the rest of the night trying to work out exactly where the journalists were in the compound. The following morning Colvin was preparing to leave through the tunnels when the shriek of a rocket shook the house. Using a method called “bracketing” they launched rockets on either side of the compound, drawing closer with each round. Panicking people inside the centre decided to evacuate. As Colvin and Ochlik rushed to the front foyer a rocket slammed into the ground directly outside, killing them both. Conroy, al-Omar and French journalist Edith Bouvier were severely injured by the shrapnel and debris.
As survivors left the building they were spotted by aerial surveillance. The artillery switched target from the building to the nearby streets aimed at survivors and emergency responders. There were no armed rebels anywhere in the vicinity. After the attack Syrian intelligence gathered at Army offices where they were congratulated on the news Colvin and Ochlik were dead. The others escaped through the tunnel, including Edith Bouvier with a broken leg. Conroy called the situation in Homs “systematic slaughter”. Few believed the Syrian story of terrorists and Colvin’s family began the painstaking search for evidence. It eventually led to this week’s suit which states categorically “with premeditation, Syrian officials deliberately killed Marie Colvin by launching a targeted rocket attack”. Whether anyone will ever be brought to justice in a war that has killed almost half a million others, remains a moot point.
Much of the talk of the federal election has been about the impact of Pauline Hanson and her return to federal parliament after a gap of 18 years.
This time she will be occupying the purple benches of the Senate rather than the Green ones of the House of Reps but she will likely bring back the same unreconstructed firebrand politics to the chamber, and to the nation, with the same undoubted national coverage.
As always her media coverage exceeds her influence, and one commentator acidly described her as a “wholly owned subsidiary of Channel Seven” (and that was not the worst he called her). The ambiguous relationship she has with media was summed up in an extraordinary outburst today where she complained of bias against her and said she would bypass traditional newspapers and TV networks in favour of citizen journalism. Citizen journalism may be the only kind left in the coming years but if paid media does disappear, Hanson’s cause too will die for lack of publicity.
Some commentators like Tim Soutphommasane say that while the politics of Hansonism haven’t changed in two decades, Australian society has moved on. Yet she will be an important voice in the next parliament and as such, worthy of attention.
I am no fan of Hanson’s political views however when I was working for the Gatton Star newspaper in 2015 I had the opportunity to cover in close detail her campaign to win the state seat of Lockyer.
I ended up with similar feelings and a similar respect for Hanson that journalist and author Margo Kingston had for her after she covered her (Pauline’s) 1998 campaign to win the seat of Blair, a story Kingston recounted in her book “Off the Rails”. I could see, as Kingston could, that Hanson had a great way with people and formed quick bonds with everyone she met on the street. Hanson could always draw on a great inner strength and her sensational jailing and subsequent quashing of her electoral fraud offence in 2003 has only made her stronger.
The left wing of Australian politics has always been quick to denounce Hanson for her extremist views, but the reality is that much of her 1996 platform (such as the tightening of the borders, the removal of ATSIC, and the reduction of foreign aid) became mainstream. But even this week when Kingston warns we should listen to her not lampoon her, the reaction from the left has mostly been lampooning of Margo and unbridled rage against Pauline.
Hanson seems to feed off the rage of the left as well as having an indefatigable appetite for elections, having run in nine of them, though until last week none were successful since that shock 1996 breakthrough.
Hanson narrowly lost the 1998 election that Kingston covered, and lost even more narrowly the 2015 election in Lockyer that I covered (another 50 votes would have put her in state parliament) but I had to admire her persistence, energy and ambitious nature.
I remember getting an angry late night call from her during the campaign after I suggested in an editorial her ultimate aim was to become prime minister.
“That’s not true, I never said that,” she said to me. “I know,” I responded, “that was just my opinion and it’s an opinion I haven’t changed despite what you just said.”
Of course being outside the major parties, Hanson will never become prime minister. But it is clear she can tap into deep wells of resentment and command a lot of votes. Her views on “Islamageddon” and climate change are nonsense (the latter is the influence of conspiracy theorist Malcolm Roberts whom I had the dubious pleasure of listening to during a forum in Gatton organised by Hanson) but the major parties should take her seriously nonetheless. She represents a strong core of disenfranchised and disillusioned people who believe she is the only one speaking for them. I congratulate her on her election to parliament and hope she finds the wisdom to properly represent the people that voted her in.
As we pass midnight on election day in Australia, no one is calling the election and Labor’s Bill Shorten has rightfully called it a good day for Labor. Yet he will not become the new prime minister, that honour for now will remain with Malcolm Turnbull.
At the moment the ABC reckons the LNP has 73 seats, two short of an overall majority in the 149-seat house. Labor has 66, others have five and there are six in doubt.
The Coalition led in most of those doubtful seats last time I looked and traditionally are stronger in postal votes. They can also count on the support of at least one of the independents in Bob Katter.
Katter was comfortably re-elected in the seat I live in, Kennedy, which covers a vast swathe of North and North-West Queensland. Katter almost lost the seat to the LNP’s Noeline Ikin in 2013 but Ikin had to withdraw in January due to illness and her replacement, the 25-year-old Jonathan Pavetto did not have the name recognition to defeat his 72-year-old opponent. In the last hung parliament in 2010, Katter went with the Coalition and given his stated distaste for Bill Shorten and Tanya Plibersek (though he has a lot of respect for Anthony Albanese), he should vote for the Coalition again this time.
As for the others, Adam Bandt and Andrew Wilkie should support Labor while Cathy McGowan and NXT’s Rebekha Sharkie are likely to vote tactically but unlikely to deny the Coalition the chance to form government.
This result is a good thing. I’ve often editorialised to say that despite what the parties say minority government is a good thing and not a recipe for chaos. It forces parties to negotiate to get their agenda through. And that’s without even having seen what the Senate is about to throw up, but with only half a quota needed, that won’t be a Coalition majority either. Nick Xenophon has increased his power. Pauline Hanson too has done well and not just in Queensland, but even she is not the ogre she is painted out to be and will be just one player in a big pond.
It has been a somewhat disappointing election for the Greens and their impressive leader Richard Di Natale. They increased their vote by 1.25% but they failed to break through for a second House of Reps seat and are likely to lose a seat or two in the Senate. This is despite their support for the rule changes in the Senate election which most people expected would favour them.
But any disappointment they may feel will be dwarfed by the Coalition which has lost at least 12 seats to Labor (while picking back up Clive Palmer’s seat of Fairfax). Prime Minister Turnbull hasn’t spoken yet but this result is a bad personal blow for him and continues his poor form leading campaigns at polls, dating back to the republic referendum in the 1990s. The pressure will be on him to resign but surely they would have been soundly beaten had Tony Abbott remained at the helm. Turnbull will have to remind his own hardheads of that fact and he will have to negotiate with the other parties’ hardheads to get his agenda through. However it is not entirely clear what that agenda is, even after a ludicrously long eight week campaign. Shorten said it was time for the parliament to get back to work, and he is right. But a big question remains after today. How will it work?
Despite their close geographical proximity, the south eastern Irish counties of Wexford and Waterford have not always shared a close heritage. The two are separated by the broad expanse of Waterford Harbour and there are no bridges between them. Only in the 1980s were the two linked up with the opening of the car ferry between Passage East in Waterford and Ballyhack in Wexford. But when Wexford rose in rebellion against the English in 1798, the county across the harbour remained quiet. Waterford’s only link to the rebellion is a building just outside Passage with the unusual name of New Geneva Barracks.
In the late 18th century, Ireland was in a rare period of prosperity as Britain temporarily relaxed customs duties. In 1783, the new Irish parliament in Dublin was determined to fund a colony from Geneva who wanted to settle in Ireland. They were Swiss Protestants who wanted to leave their homeland after an unsuccessful rebellion against their Catholic French rulers. The Irish parliament voted £50,000 to buy land and build a town to house the immigrants. The sum was increased by £6,000 with land set out in the barony of Gaultier (east Waterford county) in 1653 for the support of Duncannon Fort (across the river in Co Wexford). These tenanted lands near Passage East were owned by the Alcock family, one of whom was MP for Waterford city. The government bought out the land from the Alcocks for £12,400 and compensated the tenants. They then began building with the intention of accommodating 1000 Genevans. The public reason for bringing them over was to build a body of skilled merchants to give impetus to trade and commerce in Waterford city and the nation as a whole.
But there were ulterior motives. Authorities secretly hoped the Protestant ethos might infect the local Catholic population. Earl Temple, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, wrote a letter to Chief Secretary Grenville, where he noted putting the Swiss in Waterford “might make an essential reform in the religion, industry and mores of the South who want it more”. This also meant setting up an educational establishment. The government wanted to establish a Genevan College but needed to keep it secret from the governors of Trinity College who had a monopoly on education.
But the Trinity governors never had to worry as the mission failed before it began. An advance party of Genevans arrived in Waterford determined to set up a silk industry. Work on the New Geneva site proceeded but concession talks between the Irish government and Genevan leaders broke down over Swiss demands the government felt were unreasonable. The whole arrangement fell through, the Genevans returned home and the buildings were left derelict.
With the threat of an uprising in 1798, the Government took possession of New Geneva, raised the compound walls and provided accommodation for 1500 soldiers. When fighting broke out in Wexford, Waterford remained peaceful. However the Government was uneasy if the United Irishmen triumphed in New Ross, Waterford would have risen. The soldiers at New Geneva were suspicious and cruel towards locals. More than a century afterwards, memories of the 1798 outrages lingered among the people and New Geneva was to them a symbol of tyranny and oppression.
In Watty Cox’s Irish magazine for February 1816 there was a vivid account of the “blanketing” of a woman at Geneva Barracks in 1798. A Mrs O’Neill travelled from Co Antrim to see her son imprisoned at the barracks. By bribing sentries she was permitted an interview but as soon as mother and son saluted each other, she was ordered into the presence of Colonel Scott and his wife. The couple subjected her to a rigorous examination and then handed her over to some highlanders for a “blanketing”. Blanketing was a common punishment whereby the soldiers would grab a blanket, strip the victim naked and hoist her in the air repeatedly. Mrs O’Neill suffered this indignity for more than 20 minutes. She implored soldiers to leave some clothes on but when Colonel Scott saw this departure from custom he was encouraged by his wife to cut off her clothes with his sword. Locals could see her naked body repeatedly rising and falling above the walls of the barracks. Afterwards the woman was taken to a neighbouring village where she died the next day. The fate of her son was not recorded.
Today all that remains of Geneva Barracks is a dilapidated farmhouse and the remains of watch towers erected in 1798. In the 19th century the lands passed to Lord Waterford who sold them to a local merchant. This man named Galwey dismantled the barracks and moved the stonework to augment his premises in Dungarvan. A marker now commemorates the Geneva site with a prisoner’s description of the barracks as “the filthiest, most damp and loathsome prison, devoid of any comfort”. It is also remembered in James McBurney’s The Croppy Boy (which featured in James Joyce’s Ulysses) the last verse of which reads:
At Geneva Barracks that young man died
And at Passage they have his body laid
Good people who live in peace and joy
Breathe a prayer and a tear for the Croppy Boy”.
I have been aware of the infamous Burke and Wills expedition for as long as I can remember. Yet I have always resisted the story until I realised I was doing that primarily for silly nationalistic reasons: the leader of the failed expedition, Robert O’Hara Burke was a vainglorious fool from Ireland. I knew his superior attitudes caused him and his men to starve when native people around him thrived in that harsh environment. It was a type of Irish racism I didn’t want to acknowledge.
But my indifference to the Victorian Exploring Expedition of 1860-1861 was slowly worn away as it intersected with another study in 19th century Australian exploring failure: the disappearance of Ludwig Leichhardt a decade earlier, and in the same part of the world. I was also lucky enough to visit the Dig Tree in 2011. I lapped up the great narrative of Burke and Wills and its bad luck and “what if” moments. The final nail in the coffin of my uncaring was my move to Mount Isa this year. I cover much of the country the expedition charted, a thousand kilometres from Birdsville in the centre to Karumba on the Gulf coast. I am reminded of Burke and Wills whenever I drive between Isa and Cloncurry with a monument to them at Corella Creek. So I revisited the story via Sarah Murgatroyd’s excellent book The Dig Tree. The book too was a tragedy as the young BBC reporter was diagnosed with cancer while she researched it. She died in 2002 three weeks after the book was published, aged just 34.
Her story begins at a time when as now European Australians hugged the coast. The interior was a vast unknown. Explorers like Eyre on the Nullarbor in 1841 and Leichhardt in north Queensland in 1844-45 never went far inland. Leichhardt may later have drifted inwards but his disappearance merely added to the mystery of the “dead heart” of this inhospitable continent. Charles Sturt ventured into the Simpson Desert until defeated by vast gibber plains, giving his name to Sturt’s Stony Desert. Yet as the 1850s progressed, the confident new gold-rich colony of Victoria decided to flex its muscles and launch a search for Leichhardt. As one newspaper said, that the interior of the continent should remain a mystery was a reproach “to the Australian communities in general but especially to Victoria”.
There was a second practical reason for opening up the centre. The telegraph was turning the world into a global village but Australia remained isolated. The race was on to see which southern city would be the terminus for a cable to the northern shoreline and on to south-east Asia. South Australia had the advantage of being the first port of call of ships and also the most direct line to the north but Victoria was leading the challenge from the other colonies.
The Victorian Exploration Committee decided to solve the problem of crossing the continent with camels and imported two dozen Indian camels from horse trader George Landells. But the expedition spluttered due to lack of funds, and South Australia got the jump, thanks to dour Scotsman, John McDouall Stuart. Stuart travelled to Cooper Creek with his near-namesake Sturt in 1844, giving him a taste for inland exploration. From 1845 to 1858 Stuart tried farming and ended up as a surveyor with the knack of finding good pastures in rough country.
He was dispatched to disprove the theory there was salt lakes to the north that would halt South Australia’s expansion. Travelling light, he discovered the area around Coober Pedy until low food supplies forced him back via new country on the Nullarbor Plain. A year later Stuart found a chain of springs north of Lake Eyre with a ready supply of fresh water, which led him on to the interior supported by a grateful colony. When South Australia offered a prize for the first person to cross the continent, it re-awoke Victorian ambitions and sparked a search to find an expedition leader. The response was poor and the committee bickered over candidates. Stuart set off again in March 1860, determined to collect the South Australian prize.
Victoria finally came up with a shortlist, and on it was Castlemaine police superintendent Robert O’Hara Burke recommended by a fellow officer. The committee wasted three months trying to split the candidates, and the camels did not arrive from India until June. Finally they chose Burke, a man who had never been beyond the settled parts of Victoria and who was notorious for getting lost coming home from the pub.
Burke was born in Galway, a Protestant who served for the Catholic Austrian army where he cultivated a rakish image. But when he went AWOL, he faced court martial and was allowed to resign. He joined the Irish police until he moved to Melbourne in 1853 to help a Victorian police force desperate to impose order on lawless goldfields. Burke was an eccentric but popular with subordinates and took an active part in country life. He struck up a relationship with young actress Julia Matthews though her mother took her away to Melbourne. Burke had better luck cultivating important friendships including committee chair Sir William Stawell.
Burke was appointed leader of a ragtag expedition which gathered in Melbourne in July 1860. Burke chose men with the right connections rather than exploring experience. One of the few good decisions was to appoint 26-year-old Englishman William Wills as surveyor, and he was the only one who could navigate. Camel man Landells was second in command. Burke’s official instructions were to set up a depot at Cooper Creek, found by Sturt and then travel north to Leichhardt’s track. On the first day, August 20, the expedition with its exotic camels was like a circus leaving town and travelled just 11kms to Essendon. Three men were sacked before they left Royal Park leaving a team of 19, all without experience in the inland.
The expedition ran into heavy rain as it moved slowly through Victorian villages making camp gear sodden and heavy and grounding the wagons to a halt. It was also dangerous to ride the camels. By the time they got to the Terrick-Terrick Plains near the Murray River leadership tensions emerged. Burke left the camels and the running of the camp to Landells while he found the nearest pub or farmhouse instead of camping. Locals crowded the camp but also took advantage of it to overcharge for fodder and accommodation. At Swan Hill Burke realised the expedition would have to shed baggage. He decided to set up a new depot at Menindee on the Darling and the team was reduced to 14.
The bad weather continued as they entered NSW and Burke dismissed three more at Balranald. He decided on a short cut to Menindee through rugged Mallee country which exhausted his draught horses. Rather than save time, the forward party had to cross the country three times to rescue the wagons. From there on, the party would walk. Landells complained the camels were overloaded before they had reached the desert and was reproached for the rum he brought, supposedly as a camel pick-me-up.
Burke arrived in Menindee on October 14, Landells and the camels a day later. But when he arrived Burke ordered new second-in-command Wills to tell Landells he was fired. Landells stormed off to Melbourne where he began to thrash Burke’s reputation. Menindee was the edge of European settlement in Baagandji country. It relied on a fortnight steamboat service to bring up supplies from Adelaide and send back wool. The expedition was heading 600km north to Cooper Creek in the hottest time of the year. Burke split his expedition taking seven men and three-quarters of the horses and camels with him. He was determined to make a dash for the Gulf and become the first man to cross the continent. The rest would wait in Menindee for further instructions.
Burke took a local bushman William Wright as a guide and third-in-command, and after 10 days reached Torowoto Swamp 250km north of Menindee. There Burke ordered Wright to return to Menindee and bring up the remainder of the camp while Burke continued to Cooper Creek. After 23 days they reached the creek system and summer rains gave it a rich green environment which reminded Wills fancifully of England. The creek was the home of the Yawarrawarrka and Yandruwandha peoples who lived in temporary wurley shelters moving as water and food supplies allowed. They feasted on birds, lizards, marsupials and snakes but relied on native plants such as mulga apples, native figs and an aquatic fern called nardoo which had seeds they ground into a paste and baked.
Burke’s party knew none of this but they found a magnificent waterhole where they camped without permission. Wills said the natives gesticulated when they approached a waterhole but the visitors made no effort to establish relations. Lack of local knowledge would eventually cost the party dearly. Exploratory sorties found no obvious way north and Wills almost died when camel took off when he was 130km from the Creek, leaving a long thirsty walk back. A plague of native rats gnawed the camp’s gear forcing Burke to move to Depot 65, where the Dig Tree now stands. They waited in vain for Wright to bring the camp up. The Menindee crew refused to accept Wright’s authority and letters to Melbourne went unanswered. An impatient Burke decided to dash to the Gulf. On December 16, 1860 he left William Brahe in charge of Depot 65 and decided to take six camels, one horse and three men (Wills, John King and Charles Gray) to the Gulf. Burke asked Brahe to stay three months at Cooper Creek but Wills pleaded with him to stay four months if possible. The expedition had now divided into three components.
The forward party followed the Creek north before hitting the gibber plains, travelling as far as possible before the heat of day. Then they would rest in the shadow of the camels before travelling on in the evening. Each night King would laboriously hack the letter B and the camp number into the bark of a tree. The former Irish soldier was Landell’s recruit and his calm sense of duty was rewarded with a spot in the forward party. He looked after the camels while ex-sailor Gray was the strongman who did the work around camp.
Travelling 25 kilometres a day, by December 23 they found the Coongie Lakes, home of the Yawarrawarrka people, who welcomed the bizarre strangers at their waterholes. It was good progress but the party was travelling too slowly for their rations. The terrain varied between claypans, boggy grounds and red dunes. The men sweated profusely but wouldn’t drink until rest points so felt bloated and sick, slowing them down further. They got lost in Channel Country until they found the Diamantina River near present day Birdsville which would lead them towards the Georgina system and the north coast. They passed parties of locals who pointed out the best billabongs. The worst of the desert was behind them.
With the country improving they reached modern-day Boulia when a camel rolled on Wills’ equipment which damaged the accuracy of his navigational calculations. There was still rough country to traverse. The Standish and Selwyn ranges in Kalkadoon country remain difficult terrain today with red walls of stone dividing gorges and sharp ridges. On January 27 they passed the site of Cloncurry (named for Burke’s cousin Lady Cloncurry) and headed north-west via the Corella river. Three days later was Drop Dead Day, the point of no return of their rations, but they continued north into Gulf country.
It was the “build-up” to the wet season of stifling humidity and spectacular storms on the horizon. In February a camel fell into a bog and had to be abandoned, with a redistribution of load to the other beasts. They followed the Flinders River to the north coast, but the shoreline remained invisible in thick trees. The camels could not travel in the muddy estuary and Gray and King made camp at Camp 119 at the Bynoe and Flinders river junction while Burke and Wills tried to find the ocean.
The terrain was impassable mangrove swamps and Burke and Wills had neither the time nor energy to cross. They got 20km to the coast when they were forced to turn around without seeing the sea. Burke was satisfied the committee would accept they had completed the mission. As they turned south from Camp 119 the monsoon broke and it rained in torrents. They were continually stuck in mud. It had taken two months to get to the Gulf now the race was on to get back to Cooper Creek in another two – that was assuming Brahe acted on Wills’s suggestion not Burke’s.
Brahe’s men were coping with dwindling supplies, stultifying boredom and petty fights with pilfering locals who viewed the whites as unfriendly. Back in Menindee Wright finally got money and orders from Melbourne and set out north on January 26. Burke’s party continued to head south retracing steps to old camps. A food audit on February 12 found they had eaten three quarters of their provisions and they were forced to decrease their daily ration. They supplemented this with the native plant portulac which Wills said tasted like spinach and it saved them from scurvy. But the big man Gray was declining and weakened rapidly in March. After three months they were still 1100km from the Creek. On March 25, they discovered Gray was stealing supplies. Burke knocked him down and Gray was banned from looking after the supplies.
On March 30 they sacrificed the weakest camel and jerked the meat. A few days later Billy the horse gave way and they feasted on his stew. At Coongie Lakes Gray deteriorated and after being strapped to a camel, the sailor died in the middle of the desert on April 17. They stopped a day to bury him and discarded all but the essentials. The men began to think of their homecoming as the telltale signs of the Cooper came into view. On April 21 – 127 days after leaving – they arrived at Depot 65 to find it empty but the ashes of a fire still warm. Wills saw a carving on a coolabah. “DIG UNDER 3 FT NW”. It had the date inscribed – also April 21. After waiting four months and one week, Brahe had enough and his party left that same day.
Burke collapsed in the dirt, the terrible reality confronting him. They had missed them by eight hours – about the same time as it took to bury Gray. They followed the dig instructions and found a note with Brahe’s intention to head back down the track and it said no one had arrived from Menindee. There was also flour, sugar, tea and dried meat.
Brahe said his men and horses were in good condition so there was little chance of Burke catching up with them. Wills and King wanted to follow Brahe to the Darling but Burke took the fateful decision to head south-west to Mt Hopeless, 250km away in South Australia. Gregory used that police outpost on his 1858 journey from the Cooper to Adelaide but Burke forgot Gregory had eight men, 40 horses and plenty of supplies. King reburied the trunk so to not arouse suspicions of the locals. He asked Burke if they should leave a new message on the tree. “No”, said Burke, “the word DIG serves our purpose as much as it served theirs.”
As Burke set off, Brahe’s party were not in as good shape as he wrote. Two of his men died at Bulloo while Aboriginal tribes taunted them. Wright’s party were no better off. The waterholes which sustained Burke had dried up and his men got stuck at what they called Rat Point while they searched in vain for water ahead. One of his party died and the rest were ill. Yet on April 29 Brahe and Wright finally hooked up by chance at Bulloo Lakes. The combined party had numerous invalids and as they were about to retreat Brahe suggested to Wright they should dash back to the Cooper to be sure. On May 8 they reached the Dig Tree and convincing themselves they would find nothing they found the cache as they left it and assumed the footprints were Aboriginal. They did not notice a broken bottle, a rake leaning against the tree or a piece of leather cut from the stockade door. Inwardly relieved, they stayed just 15 minutes and headed back south.
Meanwhile Burke, Wills and King were initially optimistic as they broke into their new supplies. But they suffered a bitter blow when a camel fell into quicksand and died. They only had one beast left and that was showing signs of fatigue. They got hopelessly lost in the rivulets of the Cooper and the barrier of high sand ridges. On the same day as Brahe and Wright’s return to the Dig Tree, Burke realised progress was impossible and they turned back to the Cooper. They had wasted two and a half weeks. They arrived back at the Dig Tree on May 30.
With supplies dwindling they finally tried to live ‘like the blacks’ but the Yandruwandha were not around to show them how. They discovered a large patch of nardoo seeds which they pounded into flour. But the Yandruwandha destroyed thiaminase (which blocks Vitamin B absorption) by washing and cooking the nardoo. By not doing this Burke’s party suffered beri-beri which induced lassitude and caused difficulty walking. Wills weakened fast and on June 21 acknowledged in his diary he would die unless relief came.
That relief was nowhere in sight. A fourth man died in the Brahe party on June 5 and they limped into Menindee on June 19. Wright took a steamer to Adelaide and Brahe had to tell the news to Melbourne. On June 26, 1861 Wills wrote his final letter to his father and then his final diary entry. Burke and King left him to his fate and he died within days. Burke was not much stronger and wrote his last will to his sister revoking an earlier will where he left his meagre estate to Julia Matthews. He praised King for staying with him and died that night. King set off in search of the Yandruwandha who were his only hope.
In Melbourne the committee was finally rousing into action. In one of their few good decisions they appointed experienced bushman Alfred Howitt to lead a rescue party. Howitt took three men and after three days they ran into Brahe on the Loddon River. Howitt was horrified at Brahe’s story and reported back to Melbourne. He was finally authorised to continue his journey while Queensland sent two rescue parties one by land and the other by sea. Both had the ulterior motive of claiming the new territory for Queensland.
King found the Yandruwandhu who gave him fish and a bed to sleep in. He still deteriorated as the days went by but clung to the hope of rescue. Howitt, meanwhile, quickly arrived in Menindee which had become an explorer’s town full of speculators and prospectors. He plundered from the remains of the Burke expedition and set off north arriving at Cooper Creek in just 25 days. He found camel tracks which led to Depot 65 but he too ignored the DIG sign. On September 15 one of Howitt’s men Edwin Welch was on a reconnaissance mission when he scattered a group of Aborigines, leaving one scarecrow-like figure behind. A man wearing the remains of a hat fell to the ground and raised his hands skywards. He told him his name was King, which was unknown to Welch who knew only of Burke and Wills. “King?” he inquired. Yes, King replied, “the last man of the Exploring Expedition,” and he broke down and wept.
Back at camp, Howitt pieced together the story of awful coincidences and missed opportunities. They gave Burke a proper burial and finally dug under the Dig Tree where they found the journals, letters and maps which would tell the story – and open up the country for white exploration. The news of King’s survival and Burke and Wills’ death became an international sensation. Victoria held a royal commission which was loaded in favour of the blundering Royal Society and cast Brahe, and especially Wright, as the scapegoats. Burke was a hero venerated in death, though many questioned his judgement as the full details emerged. He and Wills were given a state funeral, Gray was ignored. A scarred King would remain mostly silent for the rest of his life.
In South Australia, Stuart finally crossed the continent and Adelaide would get the telegraph line. Queensland extended its border to include Burke and Wills’s country from Birdsville to the coast. The eight deaths on the expedition were futile as the five rescue parties opened up all of eastern Australia for the benefit of South Australia, NSW and Queensland. Victoria was only left with a giant statue of Burke and Wills on Collins St and the beginning of a tradition of glorious but tragic failure, legends Ned Kelly and Gallipoli would later add to. But the biggest losers were the Aboriginal people who owned the land and kept King alive. Cattlemen arrived to dismantle traditional cultures and the indigenous people were moved away to missions and reserves. Only their ghosts now haunt the desert sands.
On Saturday, I drove three hours east to Julia Creek as the town held a paddock to plate lunch to celebrate Queensland Week. But I had a second reason for going. That date June 4 marked the 150th anniversary of the death of Scottish explorer Duncan McIntyre, which Julia Creek was also commemorating on the day. McIntyre died in this region looking for the missing Ludwig Leichhardt and his elaborate grave is on the nearby property of Dalgonally. By a nice tie-in, Dalgonally is now owned by AA Co which supplied their 1824 Premium Beef for the paddock to plate lunch and the local historical society had put up a display at the venue celebrating McIntyre’s life.
Julia Creek is the administrative centre of McKinlay shire named for John McKinlay who was here in 1862, a few years before McIntyre, also searching for Burke and Wills Expedition. McKinlay’s report of “empty” pastoral land in the southern Gulf region prompted Victorian grazier Donald Campbell to set up an expedition in 1863 to take up the land (though no one sought the opinion or permission of the local Mitakoodi and Mayi Peoples). Campbell appointed Duncan McIntyre, a distant relative, to lead the expedition, accompanied by Duncan’s cousin Donald McIntyre.
Born in Scotland in 1831, Duncan McIntyre came to Australia as a boy of eight accompanying his uncle Archibald, who also brought his wife Elizabeth and five of his six children. Donald McIntyre was the sixth child, five years younger than Duncan, and he came to Australia 12 years later at the start of the goldrush. Donald Campbell was Elizabeth’s brother, and Duncan went to work for him at Glengower station in Victorian gold country where he impressed Campbell with his bushcraft, eventually leading to the Queensland assignment.
Burke and Wills had disappeared on their Melbourne to the Gulf journey in 1861 and the two McIntyres followed their trail up the Darling River, the Cooper Creek and up into the Gulf of Carpentaria. They eventually made it to the Gulf coast and then followed William Landsborough’s route south along the Flinders, Thompson and Darling Rivers in a five month journey.
Though they found no trace of Burke and Wills (that honour went to Alfred Howitt) it was in the Flinders River region in 1864 they made another intriguing discovery; two trees marked with the letter L. They also saw two stray horses in the area. Though it was likely the Landsborough expedition that blazed the trees, the McIntyres preferred to believe it was the earlier explorer Ludwig Leichhardt who left the inscription on his final journey in 1848. If so, it would be the first authenticated find from that expedition after Leichhardt, his men and all his animals disappeared without trace after leaving Roma. Donald McIntyre stayed on in the region at a property he named Dalgonally.
Duncan McIntyre, meanwhile, returned to Melbourne where he reported his find of the L trees. He was immediately commissioned by a ladies’ committee to lead another expedition this time to look for more traces of Leichhardt. On May 2, 1866 McIntyre wrote a letter to Campbell from the Gregory River region in the Gulf. “I started a search for further traces of Leichhardt and called at the Port (of Burketown) to get some rations.” McIntyre reported had he found no positive traces but “we have ascertained beyond doubt that whites are now, or have been, among the blacks within the last 10 years.” This timeframe did not fit with Leichhardt who was by then missing for 18 years but McIntyre reported children among the native population who were “almost white, with light blue eyes and red hair.” There were also rumours of a white man among a tribe “a day’s ride from here.”
Unfortunately for McIntyre, Burketown was suffering from a serious bout of tropical fever at the time with people dying daily. Though he camped well away from the place he was not immune, and grew more ill by the day. By the time he reached Dalgonally he was dying and he died at “the Grave Hole” on the property on June 4, 1866. One of his men, named Slowman, conducted the burial service (it is not known where Donald McIntyre was at this time). Slowman called McIntyre a great bushman adept at finding water. “In Mr McIntyre I had every confidence and would have gone anywhere with him,” Slowman said in a letter to the expedition backers in Melbourne. The Ladies Committee would later erect a huge Celtic cross above his grave.
Donald McIntyre began to build up the property in the years that followed. The area was first called Scorpion Creek but when the government surveyor arrived in 1870 to fix boundaries he took McIntyre’s suggestion to rename the watercourse to Julia Creek, named for both a niece and aunt of Donald Campbell (and not for Robert O’Hara Burke’s love interest Julia Matthews as is often assumed).
The town of Julia Creek (originally called “Hilton”) began slowly until the railway arrived in 1908 to serve the copper industry further west. The town grew until by 1930 it had a Japanese laundry, three banks, a blacksmith, a butcher, three cafes, two hotels, four stores, a school, an iceworks, a cordial factory and three churches. That same year the town became the administrative hub for the re-gazetted McKinlay shire. Today it is known for its pastoral and mining interests, with a big Dirt N Dust triathlon festival. There is a Duncan McIntyre museum but that focuses more on the region, than the man himself. The shire now markets itself, just as it was in McIntyre’s time, as the Gateway to the Gulf.
After spending a couple of days in Townsville and then two more in Mackay, my journey kept me going south this time to the Capricorn Coast near Rockhampton, named for the Tropic of Capricorn that bisects the region. First stop is Yeppoon, the tourist and commercial hub of the region. Yeppoon has a lovely beach looking out on to Keppel Bay, which was deserted on the mild Autumn day I arrived. The town is still recovering from Tropical Cyclone Marcia which tore through Yeppoon in February 2015. The name Yeppoon comes from the local Darumbal people, the same nomenclature going to Yeppen Yeppen lagoon just south of Rockhampton. Yeppoon was first settled by white cane farmers in the 1860s and was a prominent blackbirding centre.
My motel was further down the coast from Yeppoon at the quieter settlement of Emu Park. Originally named Hewittville it was renamed for the emus found in the area and the park-like setting of its foreshore. The highlight is the Singing Ship monument commemorating the visit of Captain James Cook to the region in 1770. The 12 metre high sails are designed to “sing” in the winds though I didn’t hear any tunes when I was there. No matter, the view out to Great Keppel and the other islands was superb.
The way out to islands was via Rosslyn Bay. Perched precariously at the foot of a volcanic outdrop, it is home to a marina, a fleet of trawlers, a fishing co-op and most importantly for me, the ferry to Great Keppel Island. After booking a trip for the following day, I proceeded to climb up the nearby cliff walk for a great view of the area. The following morning I was back at Rosslyn Bay for the half hour ferry trip to Keppel. There weren’t many of us aboard, and most were talking the daylong package from the ferry company. There were just a few of us who had simply bought return tickets to the island. There is no harbour on the island but the catamaran ferry drops us straight on the beach. The first thing I realise is that I’ve been calling it the wrong name. It may be Great Keppel Island on the maps but to locals and island signposts, it is simply GKI.Having arrived mid-morning, I got off expecting to find a coffee shop nearby. There was nothing directly on the beach where we landed so I took the only bitumen road I could see. But that quickly disappeared into the bush with a crumbling road surrounded by unfriendly razor wire. The only sign of life were a flock of wild goats who fled at my arrival. Had I accidentally disembarked on Nauru?I kept walking until I found a lookout which had good views over the island but no sign of any commercial life and that coffee was receding further out of reach. This was turning into a long and possibly unpleasant day.
I retraced my steps to the beach and found the closed GKI resort. This used to have a reputation as party central but has been boarded up for several years while a multi-million dollar replacement is tied up in the court. The houses behind the resort were also empty. Finally I found two fishermen landing and asked them whether I could get a coffee anywhere on the island. “Right down the other end of the beach,” they told me.
Finally 10 minutes later, I found GKI nirvana at the appropriately named Hideaway Resort. Not only did it have good coffee, it did hot lunches, alcohol and had great view looking down on the beach from the top of the sand dune. Refreshed I was finally ready to enjoy GKI. I saw lovely coral strung beaches with beautiful clear seas, teeming with life and little sign of bleaching. The water was warm and inviting and each new beach was an adventure waiting to be discovered.
After a filling lunch and an enjoyable Corona by the beach at the Hideaway, I continued my investigations to the south of the island. I took a long and tough track (especially when you are only wearing beach sandals) over a hill to Monkey Beach which afforded more great views. In the end I was loving GKI so much I didn’t want to leave and had to rush back to catch the ferry back to the mainland.
It turned out to be a great day after a bad start. There was one final treat back on the mainland. A lovely walk across the top of Bluffs Point between Rosslyn Bay and Emu Park in the setting sun looking across the beautiful Capricorn Coast and lovely GKI. I hope it never changes.