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| Long Point Lagoon |
April
7th
After our first week of working with the Tasmanian Land Conservancy, we were given the opportunity to volunteer our time toward the construction of a "sheep fence" out at the their Long Point Reserve. This reserve is a beautiful wetland of high significance to anyone seeking to protect biological diversity, harboring important species of shore birds like the eastern curlew, which makes its way all the way from Siberia every year on its migratory journey.
We were off for a weekend filled with pounding fencing
staples, rolling and unrolling wire, digging post holes, and twisting
wires into cute little bow-tie-like pieces of wire to hold the long
strands of metal against the posts strewn across the bottleneck at the entrance to this salty marsh environment. Whew, now that was almost a
run-on.
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| Beautiful waves of grass |
A man by the name of Tim
picked us up at 7:45ish and we drove strait out to Long Point. It's basically a small peninsula that houses
some very important wetlands, grasslands, and some very beautiful
sand dune structures that support a wide variety of trees on their
slopes. We only stopped once to refuel and pick up a few groceries
that we all needed.
After about
two hours of driving we arrived at the house in which we'd be staying
over Easter weekend. It was a quaint little cottage, with a nice
little dining room, surrounded by two bedrooms and a kitchen,
complete with flower drapery and a 70s style refrigerator. We didn't
stay here long though, as we had to get on the front lines to get the
fence line lined up. So all we did was drop our gear off and find
each of us a pair of gum (I usually called them 'muck) boots to wear,
in case we had to traipse through any bogs while we constructed this
barrier for sheep. From what I've been told, there are a lot of sheep
in the area that need to be kept out of the reserve, which boarders a
rancher's land. When looking at aerial photos of the area, and there is a
clear boundary between the two landscapes. On the reserve side of
the fence you can see lush vegetation, and the other side shows
clearly the effects of sheep upon the landscape. On the rancher's
land there was obvious erosion and the vegetation was much browner
than that of the reserve, a place that hadn't been grazed for many
years by this point. | |
| Much rougher than it looks |
We drove
across a fairly rough road to get down to the reserve from our
cottage. It only took about twenty minutes to reach the fence-building location, and we immediately got to work once we got there.
Our first task was to go along the old fence and pull out all the
fencing staples, and unwrap all the bow-tie wires I spoke of earlier.
This would release the old fencing wire from the posts so we could
then roll it up to be recycled. This took about an hour and half of
strait-up working to get done. It wasn't hard, just tedious and
somewhat mind-numbing. I had a good time rolling the wire though. It
gave my arms quite the workout after it got heavy enough. During this
rolling process though, Matt got stabbed quite fiercely by a jagged
end of a wire that resembled a rusty prison shank of some sort. He
immediately cried out and asked about tetanus. I let him know that he
should be fine as long as he'd gotten a shot within about the last
seven to ten years or so, then informed him of the possible side
effects if he should contract the painful bacterium induced condition. He wasn't enthused
about this information, and consoled in me that he hoped his shot
from six or so years ago would suffice in keeping him healthy. I told
him he should be alright, but to keep an eye on his wound should it
get infected.
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| Meditating after pulling the wire out 500 meters |
Once we'd
rolled the wire up we were ready to 'walk out' the new line. I got
the honor of pulling out the first strand of wire, which turned into
a somewhat hard task after I'd pulled out about three hundred meters
of it, still having two hundred or more to go. I didn't think it
would be so hard to pull, but my critical thinking rationalized that it
was a lot of weight after a certain point. It wasn't difficult, just
a little challenging for my thumbs... I think I was doing it the
hardest way I could though. When I finally reached the post at the
other end (only a third of the way down the entirety of the fence
line), I had an even greater honor of actually tying the line off,
which the professional fencer John showed me how to do just before I
walked off with the end of the thick steel string.
Now that we
had the first line pulled out, tied and tightened, we were ready to
bow-tie them to the fence posts. This task was given to several of
us, so as to complete it faster. As we went along and tied these
posts to the wire line I'd drawn out, Matt continued to pull out more
line, finishing three strands by himself before someone else took
over. With the rest of us using the little bent segments of wire to
tie the line to the fence posts, we were done tying three lines
before we were finished for the day, just after sunset. We got to see
a truly profound moonrise, one that I will forever remember in awe. I don't like fences quite as much. In fact, I despise fences
and everything they represent in modern society... but this one was
ok, I guess. We have to work with what we're given, right?
I think we
were all ready for a hot meal at this point, so we agreed to call it
a day and packed up our gear for the evening, drove back to the
cottage I'd described earlier, and then got ready to prepare our
dinner. Denna was our chef for the night and cooked us up some
delicious grub consisting of pumpkin, pasta, cream, chick peas, and
some other stuff I can't remember... it was yummers, as my brother
would say.
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| What a wondrous sunrise eh? |
April
8th
Today was to
be one of the longest work days I've had since working on the Bear
Project. I think we put in about ten hours of solid work today,
which far exceeds that of what I do at school... as far as manual
labor goes anyway. I actually do many more hours of homework when I'm
in school, but this isn't quite as taxing physically, but
none-the-less, it does wear you out.
We hit the
fence hard this morning, finishing the section we'd started last
night, and then another third of the entire fence line before it was
even lunch time. This involved a new phase of fence building, one
which I had already been intimately acquainted with on the Bear
Project... we had to pound fencing staples into the posts, securing
the wire to the wooden pillars left behind by a previous fence-builder. About three of us worked on this and
finished the first section fairly quickly. Then we moved onto the
other section that extended to the small bay that separated the
rancher's land from the reserve. The first half of this section was
all star pickets, which are metal pieces of fence post with holes,
through which we use the bow-ties to fasten the thick wire strings
to. The other half of the fence was made entirely of wooden posts, so
more pounding was in order. Matt and I worked on this together, each
starting on apposite ends, working toward one another with every swing
of our hammers. My forearm was pretty worn out by the time we'd
finished pounding five staples per post, with about twenty posts for
each of us. By the time our midday meal rolled by, we'd completed
about two thirds of the entire fence line. Even the fence pros were
impressed at this. |
| Just a random sheep skull I found |
Once our lunch
was consumed and our chatter boxes were empty, we hit the fence
again. The only section we had left to complete was the middle. While
we worked on this, Denna and Matt took the old wire into town to be
recycled, and I also think Matt was jonesing for a cigarette. A
few of us drew out the line and tied the wires to the posts, while
the rest went to the other end to finish putting in some posts to
replace rotten once, and also to finish off the end of the fence
line, which needed some extra reinforcing to be complete. After the
bow-tying was complete on this section I began pounding nails into
the wooden posts again. Matt did the first few posts, and a woman
named “Dy” helped pound some more, but I think I ended up doing
most of this section. Before I knew it, I looked up and I was the
only one in sight. Everyone else was at the other end of the fence
line. So, being the sheep I am, (no pun intended) I
continued pounding staples into the sheep fence. By the time I sunk
the last staple into the salty, water-hardened wood (sometimes hard
enough to bend the staples), Dy had come back from the other
side and informed me there was too many people over there, and not
enough jobs to go around. This was good news, as it indicated we were
almost done with our task, which was scheduled to go another day. All
we had to do was reinforce the ends of the fence line, and then seal
up a gate in the middle area.
This plant with the shiv-like leaves is called Gorse (Ulex europaeus), an invasive species from Europe that is devastating to the indigenous plant communities. This plant is a major concern for biodiversity conservation anywhere it is found.
I'd never
built a fence before, and found this volunteer job extremely
rewarding. Not only was it a good workout, but it showed me how diverse
the experience one can get by working with the Tasmanian Land
Conservancy, and revealed my inexperience with creating lines to
divide the landscape. This is one of the skill areas I am actually
proud to admit I am inept at. Again, I must reiterate, building
fences is an activity I despise and think is what creates so many
rifts between our people. We create the artificial lines across the
landscape to show 'ownership', or 'nationhood', when in reality we
are all connected. These connections can never be divided, they can
never be erased, and will never be beaten by anything short of
cataclysmic annihilation.
But anyways, I
had a great time building this line in the sand. I only say this
because a lot of the soil was comprised of sandy-loam, not loamy sand
or anything else... it was definitely sandy, and supported the most
beautiful array of succulent species I've ever laid my eyes upon.
This, I did take extensive pictures of, and feel was one of the
greatest parts of this whole experience. Often, I found myself gazing
off across the vast 'prairie' of succulent beauty. With their reds,
yellows, oranges, and greens all mixing together in a meshy carpet
rising a few centimeters above the soil, reaching for our star
with their water filled molecules. I tasted a few of them, and found
them extremely salty, but it was a nice reminder of where we were.
Although I couldn't see the ocean herself, I could smell the salty
breeze as the atmosphere undulated beneath my nostrils, and I could
feel the dampness permeating the air while we worked. Reminders are
very important. I feel like I'm very imperceptive most of the time,
and often need senses to remind me of where I am... gotta love those
senses! |
| Succulents galore!!! |
The rest of
this job went quickly and involved the pros more than it did us lowly
volunteers. They constructed some geometrically sound structures at
the ends of the fence line, using the power of triangles to reinforce
and strengthen the ends. I didn't witness the gate construction, so I
have no idea what happened here. We went back to organize and pack up
the rest of the gear at this time, and this didn't take long. It was
cool though, I got to meet a spider called Huntsman (Sparassidae), which is said to
be harmless, but looks anything but. It's about five times bigger
than anything I've ever seen in Montana. I love spiders though, and
willingly took up close pictures of this guy as Laura held him gently
in her gloved palm, cradling and walking him across them as he tried
to escape. I'm sure he could have tried harder though.
After this, we
went back to the cottage and ate our supper, again prepared by Denna
with all her culinary genius. We had curry, which is beginning to be
one of my all time favorite dishes. I love the spice, I love the mix
of vegetables, and I love the fact that you don't even need any meat
for this dish to taste absolutely delicious. We were all tired again,
so went to bed early, but not before Matt and I had a chance to jam
once again. We played some QED and a few people thought it was good.
I've acknowledged that not everyone will like our style of playing,
and am not disappointed in this fact. I'm not sure if Matt feels the
same though, as he asked later if I thought they liked it. I assume a
great many things when I talk to this man, as his tone of voice
implies more than even he would like to admit. I think he is very
self conscious of our music, and I am as well, but I am also
confident that we have something very original and fulfills my
cathartic needs.
Our heads were
ready for soft pillows after a while, and welcomed the moon on this
night. I think we all dreamed of stars... I know I did at least.
April
9th
With our
primary task complete, today was a day for extra work that needed
done. Tim really wanted to get some tree guards (used to protect
vegetation from wildlife) that he'd left piled around the reserve due
to time constraints on his last trip out there. He was worried they
wouldn't last the winter and would get blown all over the place,
littering an otherwise beautiful landscape. We were all more than
willing to help with this.
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| Can you see the 'guards'? |
Knowing we
could do this easily with four or five people, Denna and half of the
crew left this morning, leaving the group that had traveled up with
Matt and I to do this easy job of collecting tree guards. The
remaining people were Matt, Tim, Laura, Dy, and myself. We'd all
ridden up in the same vehicle, and would all ride back equally so. We
spent about three hours driving around collecting these tree guards,
which turned out to be a little more labor intensive than I original
anticipated, mainly because the stakes that were holding them in
place added up to be quite substantial weight once piled high in open
arms. Needless to say, my biseps and forearms got another good
workout today. We also got to get a good amount of walking in as
well, because the piles of tree guards and stakes were all on the
sand dunes, which weren't accessible by road. We drove as
close as we could to park the ute (Aussie for pickup truck), which
was about 100 meters away from the bottom of the hill at the farthest
locations. But, not only this, we had to go around and pull some of
the guards that had filled their purpose, with their respective
plants having outgrown their plastic confines. I had a good time
doing this, as it got my legs moving again, something we've not done
for over a week now, aside from the easy walking around town.
During this
process we were picking up really old stakes that had been invaded by
the insect life. When I came down the hill toward a pile Tim and Matt
were working at, Matt pointed out alarmingly that I had a Huntsman
spider crawling up my chest. I looked down to see a palm sized spider
with extremely hairy legs crawling up my sternum. I think Matt was
more concerned about this than I was, and quickly began checking
himself for any signs of spider crawling. I calmly brought my hand up
to keep it from crawling on my face, blocking it while giving it a
safe place to crawl to, my hand. It willing migrated from my chest to
my palm, and then started trying to jump off. I didn't want her to
get hurt, so I used my other hand to gently pass her from one palm to
another while slowly descending to the ground for a soft release. It
was weird though, when my hand got low enough to set down, the gnarly
looking spider hesitated, as if to say, “Wait a minute! We were
just starting to get acquainted... why do I have to go now?”
This must have
been one of those fleeting spider-thoughts though, because she
climbed off after about five seconds of waiting, and then scurried
away below the long, pointy grass. That brings me to my next point,
the vegetation here in Tassie all seems like it wants to stab you in
any way it can. Even the grasses are sharp on the ends, and were a
constant irritation whenever moving through it. Not even jean fabric
is thick enough to stop their shanks from poking your legs with every
step. This wasn't anything more than an irritation though, but I'm
sure some people might have adverse reactions to it if they were
allergic to grass 
After this
chance meeting with a large species of arachnida, we kept working.
Throughout the day I had plenty of opportunity to get some very good
photographs of the vegetation and surrounding landscape. Something
very good happened as well. As I walked from location to location, I
kept having butterflies cross my path. Usually I wouldn't think very
much of this, but this is the first time this had happened since I've
been down here. I think I had at least ten or more butterflies fly
directly in front of me while I was walking through the grass. For my
people, butterflies are always bringers of good things. This proved
true, as I will explain later.
Once we'd
collected all the tree guards we could find, and that Tim could
remember, we went up to the old duck hunter's shack to drop off the
ones he didn't want to haul back to the TLC headquarters. This gave
us some extra room to pick up the last of the guards at another
location on the reserve, on a different sand dune. I kind of hesitate
to call these sand dunes, because their covered in vegetation. If it
weren't for their make up of sand, I wouldn't. But, technically they
are still sandy, so, whatever.
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| Wild Edibles (can eat root) |
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| The roots of these suckers are delicious |
We emptied out
as much as Tim deemed necessary and then cruised around the North
side of the sand dune to a place that Tim had never seen before. He
was keen to check out the reserve while it was dry enough to do so,
and none of us were going to say otherwise. We all wanted to see it
just as much as he did, if not more. When we got to the other side it
was a nice surprise to find out we were going to tear down a 'hide'
that the duck hunters used to use to conceal themselves from their
unsuspecting prey. I got some cool shots of this process, not helping
them at all in the destruction of this 'hide', but doing just as
necessary of a job in documenting this important event. I missed out
totally on a great shot of Matt falling on his ass while attempting
to rip a piece of wood from the ground. We all laughed, as did Matt,
but I regretted not being more studious in snapping pictures at this
moment. Here's a chronological record of the deconstruction process.
After this we
circled around to the South end of the reserve to pick up the last of
the tree guards that had been piled along the southern most sand
dune. When we got up there it was nice to see most of the guards were
already in neat piles right next to the plants they had previously
been protecting. I saw some scattered along the top of the ridge, and
so went in pursuit of these stray guards. It was almost like
following a trail of bread crumbs. As soon as I'd pick one up, I'd
look ahead and see another just up the hill. Then, when I picked this
one up, I'd see two more even further up. By the time I found them
all, or all the ones I could see anyway, I'd climbed to the top of
the sand dune, which revealed to me it was actually not even a sand
dune, but a dolorite rock formation that had been covered in sand.
This is where my butterfly experienced came to fruition.
When I got up
here I saw Freycinet off to the South, and the wind blew strong on my
face, taking the hat right off my skull. I had a profound realization
about my place in the cosmos, and how special I am to be standing
where I was, feeling the atmospheric flow as I was, thinking the
thoughts only I could think. I knew then, without the butterflies, I
would not have come to this place at this time, and felt the way I
felt. I walked back down to the others with a light head, and a heart
rejuvenated by the spirits of this ancient land. I had to go back up
before we left to be sure I would remember this moment.
By the time
I'd walked back down they had almost finished up the easy task of
loading the already stacked tree guards into the ute. So, I helped
where I could, and then helped tie down the pile as securely as we
could get it. Then, it was lunch time, and since I'd already eaten my
lunch earlier with the butterflies, I had ample time to go listen to
the Universe atop this old rocky hill once more. I walked back up and spent
some quality time listening to my hear beat, completely in rhythm
with the lapping waves below, and the occasional gust of wind on my
face. I am truly grateful for having been in this spot when I was
there.
Once lunch had
been eaten, all we had to do was return to the cottage, pack our
gear, and then make the long drive back to Hobart. We did all this in
record time I feel, and left the area with high hearts, ready for
another week of Tasmanian goodness.
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