The Opal Desert

by Di Morrissey

  ‘It’s how a lot of things happen in life, sweetie. By accident. Always follow your instincts.’

  ‘Is that what you did? Tell me your story, Shirley.’

  ‘Time enough for that. Look, here’s Doug. Well, what’s the verdict?’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to drive it to Broken Hill, but it’ll do for around here. Where were you thinking of going, Kerrie?’ asked Doug.

  ‘Out to the lake,’ said Kerrie. ‘It’s really the reason I wanted to stay. Pam said she’d come with me. But would the car be all right to get there?’

  ‘Tell you what,’ said Doug, ‘how about you go in Pammie’s car. Much more reliable and she can take the satellite phone and if there’s any problems she can ring.’

  Barely an hour later Kerrie and Pam were on their way. They soon settled into the rhythm of the journey. Pam was happy for Kerrie to drive and Kerrie, who hadn’t driven a four-wheel-drive for a long time, found she was enjoying the experience. The dirt road was relatively smooth if she followed the tyre tracks of other vehicles. Red rocks had been pushed to either side of it, and signs of past rains were etched in the dried mud. Beyond the road tufts of grey-green shrubs and small red and purple flowers spread across the baked landscape.

  ‘I’m so pleased that you could get away, Pam. It’s nice to have company. I thought that Shirley might join us, too.’

  ‘Not a chance. Shirley doesn’t like to leave her dugout at all, not even to go for a drive. She says she likes to stay close to home.’

  ‘I see,’ said Kerrie. ‘Has she always been like that?

  I mean, she does own a car. Doesn’t she ever use it?’

  ‘Virtually not at all now.’

  ‘What does she do with herself then?’

  ‘You’ve seen the place. She takes an interest in almost everything. Loves that old computer. Says she’s writing a history of Opal Lake. Living in a cave doesn’t seem to worry her. Did she tell you her story? I think that has a lot to do with the way she is.’

  ‘No, she didn’t. What happened?’

  ‘I think that it’s up to Shirley to tell you. Enough to say that she came here to hide away from what had happened, but really she has only hidden away from herself.’

  ‘You mean that she has avoided reality?’

  ‘That’s probably a little harsh. But people often come out here to hide or run away from something and some people never do face their fears. There are people down a hole, buried out here in more than one sense. Look, we’re here. See that rise over there? Swing around to the left, there’s a track through to the upper end of the lake, away from the main part where the tourist buses go.’

  The distant edges of the dry lake quivered in the shimmering heat on the horizon. The lake spread out into the distance, a shallow indentation on the silvery surface of the flat land, as far as Kerrie could see. She parked the car beneath a grove of spindly trees.

  ‘You might be thinking that there isn’t much to see here,’ said Pam as Kerrie turned off the engine and they sat looking at the dry lake.

  ‘It’s sort of eerie, but also delicate, ephemeral almost, and very dry and empty. Is it safe to walk across?’

  ‘It’s fine, if you don’t go too far. The lake’s wider than it seems, and you could lose your sense of direction as there are so few landmarks to get your bearings. But in the years when we have proper rain this place is a miracle. Full of sparkling water, thousands of birds and plants bursting to life, fish and frogs seeming to come from nowhere.’

  ‘Must be quite something. But this is wonderful too . . . The space, the immensity of the desert and the sky. Shall we get out? There’s a little bit of shade under the trees there,’ said Kerrie, keen to stretch her legs.

  ‘I put an umbrella in the back, and two fold-up chairs. If you want to, you could explore a little. I’ll watch out for you, then we can have our picnic lunch.’

  With Pam settled in a canvas chair with a book, shaded by a large golf umbrella, Kerrie pulled on her hat and took her camera and a bottle of water to go for a short walk. She didn’t want to go far as she found the desolate lake rather intimidating.

  The lake bed was rippled red and around the edges the soft dirt rolled into waves as though a storm had whipped across its surface. Other patches looked crusty dry and Kerrie felt that if she stood on them she would crash below the surface, although she knew such an idea was nonsense. While the air was still, all around her looked as though it could be turbulent and dangerous.

  She moved cautiously onto the dry lake, stepping over partially buried driftwood and the occasional pile of stones. Her gaze was drawn to the centre of the lake, a wavering silver expanse where a mirage floated, a vision of trees and shining water. She could understand how such an image could draw wanderers, lost in the desert, to their deaths. She glanced back at her visual anchor, a small leaning tree, where, under her bold umbrella, Pam sat in the hazy bright glare of the sun.

  Kerrie decided to turn around and leave the edge of the dry lake. She stepped up onto the higher ground that sloped from the lake in small sand dunes. The whole place looked as if it had been vacuumed by the winds that swept over it. There was not a mark on the ground anywhere that she could see. ‘I feel like the first person to walk here since the dinosaurs,’ she thought.

  Kerrie reached a rise and trudged through the immaculately cleaned loose soil. She idly kicked the sand to disturb its perfection and something flew out of it. She bent down and brushed the sand away from the object and saw that it was a ring. It looked as though the ring had been in the sand dune forever. The stone in it was so dirty and blackened that it was impossible to tell what it was. Kerry rubbed the band, which was black as well, and she could feel that the setting was quite delicate filigree work.

  She hurried back to Pam to show her the ring.

  ‘It’s pretty dirty,’ Pam said. ‘It looks as though it’s been out here for a long time.’

  ‘Do you think it’s valuable?’

  ‘Probably not, by the look of it. It’s black from being exposed to the elements, so you’d have to get it cleaned to find out. Would it be worth it?’

  ‘When I get back to Sydney, I might just do something about it.’

  ‘Before you get too carried away, how about we sit down and relax, and eat our lunch? Then we can drive back in comfort. Thank heavens for air conditioning. It’s starting to get pretty hot now,’ said Pam.

  Pam delved into the basket and handed Kerrie a sandwich. They ate in silence, staring at the empty lake.

  ‘This is really a forsaken place,’ said Kerrie as she finished her sandwich and picked up a piece of fruit.

  ‘It’s magic after the wet when it’s brimming with wildlife I’m told. Now it looks barren, but I think that it’s still beautiful. It’s the light I love, mostly at sunset, when the sky turns red. And at night the stars hang just above your head, like Christmas lights. I’m glad you got to see all this.’

  ‘Pam, before we drive back, would you mind if I did some sketching, in case I don’t get back here again?’ asked Kerrie.

  ‘Of course not. I’ll just go on with my book. I’m quite happy to stay here for a bit more, as long as you don’t think it’s getting too hot.’

  Kerrie took out her sketchbook and pencils and sat in one of the folding chairs. She looked around her and tried to imagine what the place would look like full of bird life. Then she began to sketch just what she could see now, the emptiness and the desolation. The landscape seemed so featureless and yet the dried lake was, in a strange, even haunting, way, very beautiful. As she began to draw, she became more and more enthusiastic. Even without the wildlife, this place seemed to be magical.

  Eventually Pam spoke. ‘I hate to be a spoilsport, but we’ll have to start back soon. I’ve guests coming and meals to prepare.’

  ‘Pam, I didn’t mean to hold you up, but this has been such an experience for me. Sketching is becoming easier and so enjoyable. I guess it’s the subject. Now, I wonder if I can turn some
of these into paintings.’

  ‘Great. So when are you coming back to stay with us?’

  ‘I’m not sure, I mean, about making plans. Staying at Opal Lake wasn’t on my agenda in the first place.’

  ‘Well, you have friends in the Ridge and now us. Seems pretty easy.’

  ‘Pam, that’s nice of you, but as much as I would love to drop everything, I still have demands on my time.

  I can’t walk away from Milton’s estate and nor do I want to. I expect that there will always be exhibitions of his work that I will have to arrange, but I will think about your idea.’

  ‘Ah, you’ll get back to the city and think that Opal Lake was just a wild and crazy dream. But promise me you’ll do something with the sketches you’ve made here.’

  ‘Okay. I promise. Now let’s make a move. Do you want to drive, or will I?’ asked Kerrie.

  ‘I’m happy to. And, by the way, I’ve enjoyed getting out for the day, so thank you.’

  Kerrie rolled the blackened ring into a paper napkin and tucked it into the picnic basket. ‘Pretty extraordinary to find a piece of jewellery in such an isolated place.’

  ‘You’ll have a story to tell your Sydney friends, won’t you?’

  But, thought Kerry, who would take an interest in her old ring found on a dried-up lake? People she knew might make polite noises, but they wouldn’t really be interested in Opal Lake. The girls probably wouldn’t even want to see the ring since it had no value.

  ‘Well, I’ll have a good story to tell Doug tonight,’ said Kerrie.

  Dinner was indeed stimulating. Pam had asked the owners of the motel, Sue and Darren, to join them, as well as another couple, Helen and Gustav, from Canberra. They owned a dugout in the backblocks and came to Opal Lake for a few months each year. They all sat chatting under the pergola as the night fell.

  ‘Gustav’s a lecturer at the Australian National University. So we come here partly for a holiday and partly for field research so he can stay here longer with a clear conscience,’ said Helen.

  ‘When did you first come out here?’ asked Kerrie, as Doug poured wine.

  ‘Quite a few years ago, now. Gustav is a palaeontologist, but I’m just an amateur, having fun,’ said Helen.

  ‘Not any more,’ countered Pam, ‘Helen knows an awful lot about opalised fossils, too.’

  ‘Gustav and Helen have made some highly significant discoveries,’ added Doug.

  ‘And they’ve made the mining fraternity aware of the value of opalised fossils,’ added Darren.

  ‘You mean like some of the specimens Ingrid showed me in her collection?’ said Kerrie. ‘Wonderful coloured teeth and small bones all made of beautiful opal?’

  ‘That’s the kind of thing,’ said Helen. ‘I know that Ingrid makes some stunning jewellery, but even her use of common fossils is what we’d like to stop. The early miners weren’t terribly interested in fossils, either. Opal was what they were after, so who knows what treasures and knowledge have been lost when they broke up the opal fossils just to sell as gemstones? Anyway, even if museums and universities had the chance to buy them, they couldn’t afford to because the price of gem opal made them too expensive. But we’ve been trying to raise awareness about opalised fossils and how they are a really important part of the geological history of Australia,’ said Helen enthusiastically.

  ‘Pam told me that the opal fields were all part of a great inland sea,’ said Kerrie.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Gustav. ‘About one hundred and ten million years ago, Australia was part of the super continent, called Gondwana. As the huge continent started to break up, a vast inland sea was formed and it covered about a third of what is now Australia.’

  ‘So this area was part of that?’

  ‘It was. And the climate was different, too. It was much warmer and there were forests of ferns and pines and dinosaurs roamed the wilderness. Creatures like plesiosaurs and ichthyosaurs swam in this inland sea as well.’

  ‘Do people find fossils of them?’ asked Kerrie, thinking how fascinating this geological history was.

  ‘Yes, their teeth and bones,’ replied Helen. ‘And we’ve found lots of invertebrate fossils, too. Brachiopods and gastropods, which are snails, and beautiful crinoids, or sea lilies, which are related to modern brittle stars and starfish. Do you realise that Australia is the only place in the world which has opalised animal fossils? They’re not only beautiful, but important scientifically.’

  I hope I’m not annoying you with my questions,’ said Kerrie. ‘But you’re so knowledgeable.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Gustav. ‘It’s nice to have someone interested in opal who doesn’t just want to know about its commercial value. Opal fossils are formed when an animal part is buried in sediment, which later becomes rock. If silica fills up the empty spaces left by the animal, sort of like filling up a jelly mould, then the fossil eventually becomes opalised.’

  ‘So all the fossils in the different opal fields would be the same?’

  ‘Actually, no. They are similar in White Cliffs, here in Opal Lake, Andamooka and even Coober Pedy. But the fossils in Lightning Ridge are unique and diverse. It’s a very important scientific site. In that period in Australia, mammals were tiny and delicate, not at all like the dominant dinosaurs, so mammal fossils are virtually unknown, except at Lightning Ridge. That area was on the edge of the sea rather than in it, so the fauna living around it were different and included early mammals. So opalised remains of them have been found.’

  ‘Yes,’ added Helen, ‘the most famous fossil found in Lightning Ridge was the jaw of an ancestor of the platypus. I have to say that things have changed in recent years. Now palaeontologists like my husband talk to miners and explain to them what they should be looking out for. Some of them are really co-operative and interested so without their help many important discoveries would have gone unnoticed.’

  ‘Some miners have terrific collections,’ added Pam.

  ‘Unfortunately, the lure of opal will generally outweigh the value of the fossilised bones of an ancient creature. But the interest is growing and there are some very passionate collectors,’ said Doug.

  Kerrie shook her head. ‘It’s incredible. I had no idea. What a fascinating place this is.’

  ‘It’s not always sunshine and glittering opals,’ said Pam as she began passing a platter of food.

  ‘Ah, the dark underbelly of the opal fields!’ said Doug. ‘Murders, mystery, ratters and ratbags. That’s us.’

  ‘Don’t frighten Kerrie away,’ chided Pam.

  ‘No, this is a wonderful place,’ said Gustav. ‘As an artist, I expect that you can appreciate its wild beauty. And where else in the world can a man go to work in the morning with the backside falling out of his pants and come home in the afternoon a millionaire?’

  ‘Well, that’s the theory,’ said Doug. ‘But it doesn’t happen very often, I can tell you.’

  Later, after dinner, they all sat in the cosy curved loungeroom. The sparkling whitewashed sandstone walls looked to Kerrie like a pristine snowdrift.

  ‘This is like being in an igloo,’ she said.

  ‘True, but no ice and no smoking seal fat,’ laughed Helen. ‘So when are you returning to Sydney?’

  ‘Davo comes back for me on Saturday. Sydney’s going to seem a different world after being here.’

  ‘Do come back. You have friends here now. And it’s obvious that you appreciate the area.’

  ‘Everyone is asking me to come back. I want to work on some of the sketches I’ve made of this country and if they work out I might return and do some more.’

  By the time Saturday morning arrived, Kerrie was in such a routine that she felt she’d been in Opal Lake for a month rather than a week. She returned Shirley’s car and thanked the older woman as she hugged her goodbye.

  ‘You’ve been wonderful. I’ve enjoyed our daily chats so much. You are such a good listener, Shirley, I’m going to miss you.’ Kerrie felt awkward, not sure how to explain
how much, since the death of her mother, she’d missed having another woman’s company.

  ‘I’ve loved your visits, too. Keep in touch. Call me occasionally, or at least email me. And get going with your art, my girl. I’m anxious to hear – and see – what you’re doing. Remember, find some time for yourself.’

  Kerrie nodded. ‘I just don’t know how to thank you for everything.’

  ‘You don’t have to. It’s worked both ways. But there is a favour you can do for me, if it’s not too much trouble.’

  ‘Anything. Love to,’ said Kerrie.

  Shirley opened her desk drawer and pulled out a small leather bag. ‘I’d like you to take this to a friend of mine in Sydney.’

  ‘Of course. Write down the address, phone number, or whatever I have to do.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what it is. Just between us,’ said Shirley.

  ‘You don’t have to do that. I don’t need to know anything.’

  ‘No, I’d like you to know. There’re uncut opals in here. Old stones. I have a bit of a stash left from my Lightning Ridge days. It’s sort of my superannuation.’ She smiled. ‘I have an old friend, a reputable jeweller and buyer, Roth Cameron, who buys them,’ she added. ‘He’s a lovely man. He’s semi-retired now and his son runs the business. Here’s Roth’s card.’

  Kerrie took the small bag, surprised by how heavy it was. ‘I’ll look after it very carefully and keep it in my safe at home till I meet him.’

  ‘Thank you, Kerrie. The stones aren’t cut or polished, just snipped on each corner to get an idea of their quality. The stones are good so every now and again I cash them in.’

  Kerrie zipped the pouch into her shoulder bag just as there was a call at the door.

  ‘Where are you, Shirl? It’s me, Davo.’

  ‘In here. Saying goodbye to your passenger.’

  ‘Ah, you found Shirley, my favourite girl, the gem of Opal Lake,’ said Davo as he came in, carrying some grocery bags. ‘How’s it going?’ he asked her. ‘I’ve brought you the goodies you ordered from the store. They had everything on the list.’