Canning Stock Route - The track to Helena Spring (or lack thereof!)

Saturday 13th June, 2009
Helena Spring Track, 20 km east of Canning Stock Route
21 23 2.00 126 01 24.48 od 207496

A most enjoyable day today that saw me exhausted and finding a magic camp site on my return Journey to the CSR. The sunrise and sunset were both spectacular in different ways, as was every section of the track today. I sat with the cameras on top of a small dune near my camp and watched the sun set under ribbons of low cloud finishing the day with golden fire on the horizon and a warm breeze at my back. This is why I love it out here.

There were a few spots of rain during the night and the cloud cover kept the evening warm. I was awake early which gave me time to mull over the radiator issue and the spinifex problem. I emerged from the Roof Top Taj (RTT) to an overcast morning with rain showers falling in the distance around me. As it was only 5.45, the sun was a while from rising. I got the fire going and my first cup of tea underway when the eastern hoizon came alive in shades of red and orange. The first rays of the sun hit the falling rain showers to the east giving it an amazing aurora like effect while behind me, a rainbow formed. What a way to greet the day.

Breakfast was a cheese jaffle with the last of the bread and then a pack around camp before pulling the tools out and tacking the radiator issue. I removed the front grill and managed to sweep the majority of spinifex seed kernels from the protective flywire screen in front of the airconditioning radiator. The gap between this radiator and the vehicle radiator appeared fairly full of grass. The foam barriers designed to make a seal between the two had largly worn away. On closer examination under the car, I located two areas inside the front guards where the rubber shielding did not cover. It also appeared as if some grass seeds were being pushed up between the steering damper and the front bash plate and then pushed forward by air escaping fron the fan under the rear radiator shroud. Decisions, decisions. Do I pull the radiator out here and now or later? In the end, I loosened the top mounts and cleared the shroud giving me enough room to get my hand and a small brush in to get the majority of the grill clean. Then it was another hour sealing the holes and ingress points with what mesh I had and maximising the use of the existing shade cloth shroud positioned over the bullbar. An hour and plenty of cable ties later, I was ready to hit the road. 3 hours work, a judicious use of Gaffer tape and I was off on the track weast at 10 o’clock.

The track started as a torturous twisting thing, hard to discern and in places gone altogether. It was like chasing a wraith but after 5 km or so, it improved no end allowing good time through burnt woodlands and long grassy swales. In places it was almost like a normal track. About 9 km short of the spring, you hit an old cut line which then takes you up the eastern end of the swale that I had been traversing for some time. The vista that confronts you is spectacular as you look down into the valley that no doubt holds Helena Sping. To the right there were rows of tight pressed sand dunes and to the left (north) a wide valley like swale in which sat a number of clay and salt pans. In the far distance huge dunes formed peaks giving the impression that they were more than just sandhills. On driving the few short milometres down into the valley, the track disintegtrated entirly. I did the last 3 km on a wing and a prayer and the last kilometre on the navigation points given on the Hema GDT NW sheet. This put you in the vicinity but it took a lot of walking and driving around to find the actual spring site. The area is thick with Tee Tree scrub which makes it difficult to sight anything. I meandered between the dry saltpans until the GPS pinged me as being in the general vicinity.

That the site is a favoured loaction for the local camel population there can be no doubt. Their prints and dust bowls are everywhere. Aproaching one dried soak area, I took my shovel and dug down to find water and instead found rock at a depth of 25 cm. The whole area appears to be sitting on a sheet of rock. The same occurred in every other location I dug. No wonder the area holds water after rain. The spring itself is choked with rushes making it very difficult to locate the plaque and signs indicating the location of Carnegies find. There is a plaque and shovel left at the location for those wishing to access the well which I did not. Having spent an hour or so looking around, I commenced my return journey nearly getting myself bamboozled in the process as the thick, dry tee tree like scrub easily conceals your tracks. It took me five minutes to locate my original track and then back-track to the high vista point. From there it was straight forward following my tracks west (well that’s not entirely true as they were very difficult to locate, especially those left across the samphire flats and soak areas).

Come 3.45 p.m. I found a beaut little area to camp nestled beneath the crest of a high dune. It's sheltered and provides a great view west already being, halfway up the wall of the dune. Plenty of timber so I had camp set up and the spaghetti boiling in no time. With ribbons of cloud on the horizon, I knew the sunset was going to be special so I took my chair to the top of the nearby sand ridge and settled in with the cameras. Overhead an east coast bound jet stood out like a silver meteor leaving a brilliant contrail in its wake. He sky was ablaze with goldern fire. Amazing and captivating. Later by the fire, the last flushes of brilliance as the earths shadow finally catches up, left a ribbon of gold with verdant hues of blue through to blackness and stars above. A meal of pasta and meatballs, custard for desert and a scotch for afters....life's complete. The moon is rising late so the sky is ablaze with stars as only a western desert sky can be. The milky way shines. The bats are working overtime about the fire scooping up hapless moths. One of them is very large as he whirs overhead, an unseen, warm blooded bullet in the night sky. I’m going to spend the next hour lying on my back looking at the stars.

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