20 November 2011 - Wilpena Pound Resort, Flinders Range National Park, South Australia

It is hard to believe that two years ago I was in Auckland with my youngest and his family, assisting in the chaos that a birth in the family brings. Wee Matthew, our youngest grandchild (until next March) turns two today. What changes there have been in our lives since then!

We woke to a much cooler morning and I retrieved my polar fleece vest from the back of the wardrobe. The day was overcast but promising sunshine rather than more of yesterday’s showers. Breakfast and lunch making were quickly dealt with, I attempted a Skype call to Olly (with no success except that I was surprised and delighted to find we did have internet reception here deep in the Flinders Ranges!), and we were heading off out of the camp on foot by 8.15 am.

The private resort road follows the Wilpena Creek south west up a gully to the beginning of many wonderful walking trails. The river bed is almost strangled with river gums; old, gnarled, hollowed, fallen and all still growing. The path then continues up the narrowing gully to the Hills Homestead. The restored dwelling stands beneath the cliffs of the edge of the pound, a crater like arena, spanning seventeen kilometres in length and eight kilometres in width. The floor of this arena is now filled with gums and pines but was once cleared by those who tried to make their fortune, or even a living, in this sheltered enclosure.

 In 1888 a pastoralist took the lease of the Wilpena Run, with 120,000 sheep on 400 square miles. Their rent was based on what the government thought they should run, and so it was in the pastoralist’s short sighted pecuniary interest to maximise flock numbers.

The restored Hills Homestead

It was not until 1867, the government set up a Big Commission which decided that the overstocking and the drought had destroyed most of the vegetation fit for pasture.The saltbush plains had been eaten out and the land lay bare. Many pastoralists just walked off their land; however Mr Price, of Wilpena, already having lost 20,000 sheep and 2,000 head of cattle, persevered. He figured that if he reserved good feed near water by fencing, he would survive another drought. He reduced his stock to 20,000 and built hundreds of miles of fences. (I do believe that it was his fence posts we saw today as we walked across the floor of the pound.) With these modifications to his farming methods, he managed to last his twenty one lease, and left only when it expired in 1888.

It was not until 1901 that Mr Hill decided that the land in the pound would make for ideal wheat growing, and so he and his family took on a second lease from the government. The homestead that still stands in its restored state was built, and he and his sons cleared the scrub using an old boiler as a roller, pulled by bullocks. In 1902, despite it being a drought year, the first successful crop was harvested.  1914 brought another hideous drought which was finally broken at Christmas time that year, the floods washing out the road that had been hand built with great difficulty. The old man died in due course but one of the sons carried on with the lease until 1922 when it finally expired.

Thereafter it was operated as a forest reserve, leased for grazing, until 1945 when  it was considered to have great potential as a tourist attraction and the National Pleasure Resort was built and has operated under various guises and by a variety of owners to this day.

Postcards and brochures generally show aerial shots of the Pound in times of drought when the rock formations are at their most severe and spectacular. Today when we climbed the lookout, we were afforded a splendid view across the Pound, full of green trees and bushes, and the hills encircling this place were similarly clad. Alas, not as spectacular as the promotional material.

Resting along the Bridle Path

We decided to walk further, along the Bridle Path, which if followed to its end would have taken us right across to the other side of the Pound. By this time, late in the morning, the sun had made its presence known and the day was heating up. We encountered hundreds of kangaroos and joeys, and a score of emu. The birdlife was wonderful and we enjoyed walking along the flat expanse, through gums and then a forest of native pines. Finally we decided that we had better turn back otherwise we would be too stuffed later in the day, so we turned and headed back to camp, having covered over fifteen kilometres for our efforts. Not bad for someone who is slowly returning to fitness after that stupid bug I had through September and October.

The Heyson Trail is a 1,200 kilometre walking track, extending from the Parachina Gorge to the north of here in the Flinders Range down to Cape Jervis on the tip of the Fleaurieu Peninsula. The whole extent of our walk today followed a very small part of that trail, so I guess we could say that we have walked part of the Heyson Trail, however that phrase might be pushing the boundaries a little and suggesting that we are very fit or even mad.

On returning, after releasing our feet from boots and enjoying a couple of coffees, we did manage to get hold of Olly and family, however after a day partying and imbibing all sorts of sugary substances, the little ones were really only good for bed.