On the edge of solitariness

It is hard when you are driving in these parts not to wonder about the people who first came here.  Why they came. How they survived. What drove them to consider ever living on this stone dry ground with its rare tufts of edible grass and unreliable surface water.

Driving east from Birdsville heading home, our trip became illuminated by the billboard tales of two of Australia's greatest cattlemen and bushmen, Paddy Durack and John Costello, who were among the first ever to settle in these parts.  

These Irish brothers-in-law set out in 1867 from NSW to secure the future of their extended family on the edges what is now the Quilpie shire: then unsettled, unsurveyed, and, in many cases, unexplored.

The Whynot claim
Named after Paddy's horse

One generation removed from the terrible poverty in Ireland they hungered for more.  They were driven men, searching for a better life.  They pushed their stock north and west, out onto the edges of solitariness, into western Queensland.   Here they found no one else squatting.  Here they set up places they might call home, and for a decade or more, their stars were sweetly in alignment.

The land, then and now
Flat, stony ground under a blue blue sky

They pegged the land, set their cattle onto it,  built boundary fences,  dwellings, outhouses and waterholes.  They made use of what the land offered.  They had not much else.

A boundary rider's homestead, rising out of the earth

They brought in relatives and pegged out even more claims.   Until they occupied a small country, hereabouts.

Eventually, they notified the government of their claims.  Though, they waited a few years: saving a stack on government taxes in doing so -- because when the lease wasn't in their name, they didn't have to pay it.  A risky game, as someone else might have come along and tagged their claim.   But, no one did.

For a short while, the Duracks and Costellos created a dynasty, and were counted among the most skilled surveyors, bushmen and cattlemen in Australia, at that time.    Kings in Grass Castles.

And many of their stories survive.

On this site, about seventy kilometres west of Windorah, John Costello once dismounted from his horse to boil his billy.  He was out exploring, sussing possible land claims for his friends and family.  He carved J.C. on a tree that stood nearby, so likely saw this as a possible station site.  It later became a watering hole, and the pise-built hotel was called,  by the locals,  "The J C".   A township and a property were eventually gazetted, but the Post Master General's department refused to accept "J C" as the name of the town, officially calling it Canterbury instead.  But all that ever there was has now disappeared, and none of the locals took to using the official title, Canterbury.   Then, and even now, as it lies in scattered ruins, the place is affectionately named:  "The J C".  

The J. C. Ruins
John Costello was once here

Then ill winds came, and blew much of their fairytale away.

Today birds nest beside Kyabra Creek
where the Costello's once lived

Driving the families and herds onto newer, unbroken, even wilder pastures, in remote Western Australia.  Over deserts with their dwindling herd of cattle they trekked, leaving many a swollen carcase to lie sun-bleached and sand-blown enroute.

Remarkable Aussie battlers.

But still, they had a go.