equinox in Australia


The first people.

The first people out of Africa, possibly the oldest culture in the world.

I see their magic all around, they have danced on this Story Hill since the Dreamtime.

They see things differently to you and I, they see what you cannot see.

I see what they see. I see a people going back to the beginning… the first People.




Australian aborigines.








Cyber Alchemist

A children’s story or maybe young adults… It could be true in a parallel world.


I am the Alchemist, the doorway to knowledge.
I see things you cannot.
I am Hope and Ann, the dragon is Tuchekoi.
Do you believe in magic and the oldest land on earth, do you believe in moonlight and shadow.


My name is unimportant, but believes me when I say; this is real… I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe. This is not a story more a message; have you heard of ‘power spots’… Island Head is one. Where I am now is a portal; a portal to what or where I don’t know. The Alchemist and their companions travel in a place between places, in a time between times. They’ve found a place between quantum and reality, a place that is, or is not. I know this sounds weird, but like the Alchemist say’s; they can see you, but you cannot see them. In time you’ll come to understand all this, that is, if you want to join this adventure.
The Alchemist is two people, the twins; Hope and Ann. Before Ann attained the Tincture, and Hope the realisation, it was obvious they were different; both are well over 6 foot tall with the physique of Olympic swimmers. For me it’s their eyes; some people say a person’s eyes are a window into their soul… Once you see their eyes you’d know what I mean, but it’s more than that; they’re different, like we’re different from Neanderthal.
There’s so much to tell; they don’t speak to me but I know what they say. The history is written down; you think I speak in riddles, I don’t. Do you know what a min min is, or an alchemist? Have you ever seen a dragon? Dragons are nothing new in Australia; we call them lizards, except for a couple of little ones, like the Bearded Dragon. Have you ever seen a flying lizard? I have, I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe.

They arrived here this morning, the alchemist; Hope and Ann with their companion Lula and the dragon Tuchekoi. At first light the valleys were full of mist, this hill like an island with a quarter moon sky. I saw the dragon from the corner of my eye, like a silver apparition it glided from the North. I’ve seen it before, its name is Tuchekoi. When I went outside to see better, there, on the dew soaked lawn was Hope and Ann and behind them their lifelong companion, Lula. I quite forgot about Tuchekoi.
The twins presence is overpowering, they’re like Gods, their style of dress out of this world. Ann wears sandals set with turquoise in silver, her dress is green silk beneath a long shamus coat, her body armour floats about like threads of gossamer. She carries a thin black sword across her back with silver boomerangs at her shoulder; all this at 7 in the morning.

Lula is as tall as Hope and wears the same sort of sandals as Ann, but hers are set with opal and pearl, her bodice like top is silver-black mail, but it’s not made of any known metal. Around her waist are two intricate chains; one gold the other silver, one holds a long hunting knife in a crocodile sheath, the other her silk loincloth overlaid with strands of almost invisible mail. Like Ann she has two boomerangs held at her shoulder, but hers are as black as her skin. She looks magnificent as the women from the Channel Country do.
I could go on describing them for hours, but we haven’t the time and I haven’t even told you about Hope; he wears faded blue jeans, a soft kaki shirt with a leather tube across his back, not forgetting his faded Akubra, RM boots and a well-used saddle bag. I’ll tell you about Tuchekoi later.

You’re invited on this journey to the Winter-Solstice, with the alchemist of Island Head; Hope and Ann, Lula of the Channel Country, Tuchekoi and me… I’m the scribe with all rights to the words & pictures.
Dress however you like, the weather is chilly in the mornings sunny through the day. Sensible footwear is advised, first stop the Oracle of the Great Divide. A welcoming feast will be served after sundown; be what you are, dress is optional, a grand ball will be held after the feast
…………………………….Sent into cyber. …………><((((º>.·´¯`·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸><((((º>¸.·´¯`·.¸..¸¸..><((((º>.·´¯`·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸><((((º>¸.·´¯`·.¸..¸¸..><((((º>.·´¯`·.¸¸´¯`· ><((((º>.·´¯`·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸><((((º>¸.·´¯`·.¸..¸¸..><((((º>

The twin alchemists greet me well before I see them; they speak in my mind… I hear what they say, but not with my ears. I never know which of the twins is communicating, that’s why I think of them as one. I’m waiting at the kitchen door, they come out of the mist like a portent, accompanied by Lula and Tuchekoi who circles the house and lands on the roof, its shiny black talons rasping across the corrugated iron in a teeth clenching noise. Making itself comfortable the arboreal reptile glared at my kelpies… the dogs growling from the pit of their stomachs. I invite the twins and Lula into the house, letting the dogs sit inside next to the door. Putting on the jug I ask if everyone would like coffee, with a nod from my guests I busy myself getting out cups. ‘I didn’t think you were going to start so soon’ I say, ‘nobody else has arrived.’

The Alchemist’s thoughts form in my mind, ‘We know’ they say without speaking, ‘don’t be concerned.’ Ann stood next to one of the big windows framing the Mary Valley with the Great Divide in the distance, rain smearing the glass like tears. Turning she looked directly at me; it’s hard to describe somebody you’re in total awe of without getting carried away, but I’ll try. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt about the twins it’s this; they don’t do magic, they’re different. Think of it this way, if you were a Roman centurion a couple of thousand years ago and somebody came up to you with a Polaroid camera and took your picture, what would you think… especially if they’d just landed in a helicopter with the Beetles blaring from a MP3.

This is not a story, just entries in my journal. The Alchemist wants me to document this journey, for what reason I haven’t a clue. Looking at Ann, I think to myself ‘How can somebody have such blue eyes.’ She’s stunningly beautiful; she looks about 30, but I know that can’t be right, standing about 6 foot 2 with sun bleached hair pulled back from her face, the colour of her eyes changing subtly with her mood or the light. Both of them have the physic of Olympians; powerful shoulders and deep chests, the sort of understated strength of a big cat hunting. Beneath her coat a fine silver belt and a sheathed knife clings to her waist. I see strands of almost invisible armour clinging to her body, she has no rings or bracelets, watches or armbands… in fact no bling or anything unnecessary. At her shoulder are two silver boomerangs held by invisible fastenings, down her back, an unsheathed black foil that glitters with malice. The three of them have the look of hunters… people to be respected.

Hope’s shirt and trousers look sensible, his jacket comfortable, on his feet he wears rawhide boots, his wide brimmed Akubra bleached by the sun. He carries a leather tube with a compound bow fixed to its side and a well-used knife at his waist. Lula is dressed the same as the last time I described her, except her loincloth is now the same colour as Ann’s dress.

The water jug boiled as Tuchekoi scratched the roof, the noise setting my teeth on edge as palms rattled to a fresh gust of wind. As I pour the steaming water onto the coffee grounds, I think about what I should take for a journey to the Winter Solstice; boots and jeans plus a couple of shirts with my dryasabone wrapped in my swag, not forgetting my tiny p/c slash digital phone.

Half an hour later, I was following the twins and Lula down the hill. With the wind gusting hard the kelpies ran ahead, all the time keeping a weary lookout for Tuchekoi. Entering a stand of remnant rainforest the wind was blocked by the timber, the high canopy sounding like surf on the beach. We followed a wallaby trail with Ann in the lead, the leaves wet and glossy, the wind gusting high above. I know this patch of rainforest like the back of my hand, knowing exactly where we were until we came to a glade I’d never seen before. The dogs came in close to my legs, goose bumps raising along my arms as I stood there in amazement.

Ann and Hope started to do strange things with their hands, it was like they were casting spells. Watching, I realised they were looking for something in the air, something invisible, something I could never see. The words formed in my mind, ‘We are looking for a door, a portal in time.’

They could see something I could not. Lula and I stood back with the dogs, the rain falling like a soft luminous mist. I remember thinking how green the moss was, and how beautiful the ferns and orchids were. It was obvious the twins had found what they were looking for, because Ann disappeared. As hard as I looked, I couldn’t see anything; except the trees, ferns and wet leaves. Tuchekoi came out of the mist like a cloak of silver and green, only to vanish into nothingness. I knew there had to be some kind of doorway in front of me, I just couldn’t see it.

Lula and Hope guided me through an opening I couldn’t see, the dogs so close to my feet they just about tripped me. It still seems hard to believe, but we came out on a grassy flat at the bottom of a high waterfall. Blue, my male red-kelpie growled in the pit of his stomach, my mind doing somersaults as I tried to come to terms with what had just happened. I reasoned we’ed just walked through some kind of ‘event horizon,’ that hypothetical zone between what has happened, and what is about to happen; a portal or doorway between ‘parallel worlds’.

Water crashed in a dull roar bringing me back to unreality. Rainbows of spray rose in pearly clouds, birds calling from the bush. Waterfalls, rainforest and palm lined creeks is typical coastal Queensland. I could have been anywhere within 20 miles of my house, everything looked the same, yet somehow I knew it was different.

The dogs ran to the water while the twins did strange measurements in the air with a thing that looked like a cigar, I felt like I was from the bone age as I watched. When they were satisfied with whatever it was they were doing, we forded the creek and followed a game trail that wound through the forest coming out at another huge water hole with a high rocky bluff. We followed the boulder strewn creek to a strange formation of vaulted rock protruding from the bottom of a tall imposing cliff. Stopping, Hope inscribed some sort of symbol over one of the monolithic stones and unbelievably it swung back like a piston, the rock at least forty to fifty foot high by fifteen foot wide and weighing hundreds of tons. When it was fully open, Tuchekoi glided through like rippled evening water.
We walked into a natural cavern like a huge cathedral. A long pool of subterranean water refracting sunlight in a misty green, moss and delicate ferns accentuate by the jade light, the floor covered with washed pebbles in long wavy lines, everything laid down in some long ago flood. Bleached driftwood had collected into the most beautiful sculptures imaginable, everything dazzlingly simple, the size of the place overwhelming with the slightest noise echoing.

Timid at first the dogs were soon exploring, my finger snap commands reverberating like thunder. After a five minute walk along half the length of the chamber we came to a natural stairway worn into the rock by water. Looking up it seemed to go forever.
Tuchekoi glided down from somewhere up above and landed on a huge smooth boulder, folding its ethereal wings its green eyes blazed momentarily, its demeanour as inscrutable as stone…………
From the journal of the ‘Cyber Alchemist’.
Sent into cyber this day.

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21st September 2016  ´¯`·.¸..¸¸..<º))))><.·´¯`·.¸..¸¸..<º))))><.·´¯`·.¸..¸¸..<º))))><.·´¯`·.¸..¸¸..<º))))><.·´¯`·.¸..¸¸..<º))))><.

Cyber Alchemist. Journal entry No 3

After climbing the never ending stairs for what seemed like hours, we came to a plateau of emerald green grass kept short by small white wallabies. Standing with her back to us in a natural amphitheatre stood the Oracle, the last rays of the setting sun streamed from her silhouette like golden daggers, the sky turning red.

I knew the Oracle was female and I knew she was old, but that still hadn’t prepared me. Her hair was as white as snow and fell in a wave to her waist, her skin the colour of ivory. Turning, she looked directly at me, her eyes like pearls that cannot see. She is very old and best described as bony, she wore a fine cape of possum skins with a frill of echidna quills, her dress is green snake skins stitched together with spiders web. Pearl, opal, stone and tooth dangle from her neck in a charm… her staff a rod of power.
She walked towards us as if she can see, the sky turning yellow. Shadowy people bowed as she passed, people I hadn’t seen before. Stopping before us she nods at the twins, I know they are exchanging information, but I cannot detect anything. The Oracle pointed to a pile of kindling. I wondered what was going to happen as Hope stepped forward and knelt down, putting his hand to the twigs… seconds later smoke curled up as flames leap and danced. I couldn’t help being impressed, until I noticed Hope slip the plastic lighter back into his pocket.

Drinking ambrosia from emu-egg cups I was told in my head, that my bath was ready. Standing up I looked around, a map forming in my mind… knowing where I was going I took my leave and walked to a beautiful grotto where a hot spring bubbled in a pool of crystal clear water. Taking off my clothes, I laid them on a moss covered rock, alabaster mist swirled in a dance, steps of dazzling quartz led into the pool. Immersed in the silky warm water I sat on a smooth rock looking around in awe, Just as I got comfortable the twins and Lula appear with the dogs and Tuchekoi. The dragon appeared out of the mist like a glittering jewel, it’s beautiful scales reflecting subtle blues, greens and silver, the colours like a school of whiting in the surf… its long curved talons ripping the water in a score. Ducking as it flew past, I was just in time to watch the beautiful arboreal creature fold its wings as it settled on a moss covered ledge overlooking the pool. Deflating to its normal size it reminded me of pictures I’d seen of mythical mermaids, its demeanour as stony as a rare green gem. Looking at the strange reptile I felt very uncomfortable, however beautiful it was I believed it would like to eat my dogs. Besides, I had a strange nursery rhyme playing over and over in my mind… ‘Never trust a dragon with two red dogs, two red dogs, two red dogs.’

Floating in luxury I watched Ann and Lula undress, the dragon resting its head on its dagger like talons, the mist glowing with an opal green light. The place seemed quite normal, except for its strangeness. I wondered what else was going to happen before I slept… but sleep was the last thing on my mind as Ann and Lula stepped into the pool.
Sent into cyber this Winter day. …………><((((º>.·´¯`·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸><((((º>¸.·´¯`·.¸..¸¸..><((((º>.·´¯`·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸><((((º>¸.·´¯`·.¸..¸¸..><((((º>.·´¯`·.¸¸´¯`· ><((((º>.·´¯`·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸><((((º>¸.·´¯`·.¸..¸¸..><((((º>

Cyber Alchemist: Journal entry No4

This is all getting a little weird, if you know what I mean. Another day has gone, yet here I am in yesterday. Things are not what they seem. Being in the Oracle’s keep is like being in fairy land. Rooms with curved roofs and moss covered floors would be seen by sum, as mossy caves with great views. This place is about a different point of view, with a different way of looking at things. I saw it as a beautiful and somewhat strange castle/keep in the sky.
With lofty views over the land, we sat in a magical garden under a huge tent of translucent gut. Java, the forest people were there, as well as other shadowy beings never quite seen. Everybody was very polite and discreet, the women especially beautiful. We sat next to a fire on chairs made by nature, the moss carpeting soft and green.

I can’t tell you how beautiful this place is, it’s so real… the thing is, where is it? It feels like Queensland, everything looks the same… but it’s the subtle differences that keep throwing me. My gut feeling is telling me this is a parallel place. I wonder if any of these messages are getting through; I’m downloading from a flash card that is hopefully uploading to a satellite, the Net and you. For obvious reasons, you are the only people I trust at the moment. Let’s face it, half the people reading this would think me mad, but the other half might half believe, and a quarter of them would have plunder on their mind; this place is richer than Gympie and Ballarat combined.

Things started to get a little bit weird that first night, the night of the Grand Ball… and the Ball wasn’t what I was expecting at all. The Grand Ball was in fact, just that; a silver ball perforated with holes that issued smoke, inside it was filled with the finest ‘pitura’ and glowing charcoal, the billowing smoke allowing you to see into other worlds.

The place was filled with people,but I was alone… until I saw the Oracle. There she was, this old lady dressed in snake skins and charms with a polished stick in her hand. She pointed at something between us, but as hard as I looked I couldn’t see anything… and then I saw something that couldn’t be seen. I could see time swirling between us… like pieces of string that never quite touched, the soup of everything moving in impossibility. I could see matter and antimatter, but more, I could see the separation. The Oracle opened an invisible door and I stepped through.
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23 September 2016

On the other side of the invisible door the twins and Lula were waiting, even the dogs were there. I looked back, wondering if that was the way forward, but there was nothing there. My mind perceived things my eyes couldn’t see. I could nearly see God. I was at the well of time and energy. Everything looked the same but it was different.
“Where is the Oracle?” I asked rather lamely.
‘We have left the place of the Oracle,’ the Alchemist words formed in my head, ‘this is another place.’ There was no light, yet I could see, or maybe there was nothing to see except us. It wasn’t black and it wasn’t white, it was silver grey. Above us Tuchekoi appeared and disappeared in and out of the nothingness
“What’s happening” I said, confused.
“Nothing” Lula said in a hollow sort of voice, “we’ve been waiting for you, now we can start.”
“Where are we going” I said, looking around in confusion.
Lula smiled and patted her long hunting knife. “We travel to the Solstice, this is the way.”
Tuchekoi hissed from above, its beautiful silver scales winking with allure.
‘Follow closely’ the Alchemist whispered in my mind.
One of the first things I noticed was the absence of shadows, there were no in-betweens, just the silver light. I had the impression we were high up, why, I don’t know. Maybe it reminded me of climbing in the Himalayas with the silver light of clouds from below, but I knew it wasn’t clouds… this was something else. We were walking on spongy silver sand, you could feel it and see it, but like the wind you couldn’t quite hold it. The dogs stayed close to Lula, something they would normally never do. Tuchekoi circled above, almost transparent like shoals of whiting over sand. No wonder people never see dragons I though, besides being rare to the point of extinction, they are shy and ethereal. I can’t tell you how long we journeyed through the place of silver light, because time had no meaning. I think we were walking in a tunnel of time, we weren’t walking back or forward, but across the curve.
As we walked, I thought about the aerial reptile who was learning to fly when Cook sailed the coast, but I’ll tell you more about that later. What concerned me was, where were we, and how do you navigate when you’re in a place that doesn’t exist? We were beyond quantum… we were in it. I think we were in a time curve where light bent. So the question arose in my mind, what were we doing and where was the Winter Solstice? I was lost in more ways than one.
We came to a high hill overlooking a green misty valley, how, I don’t know… we just arrived there. Tuchekoi soared into the rare blue sky on wings of transparent silver, both dogs wagging their tails with joy. Three black cockatoos called loudly as they sailed over the emerald green forest far below, the hills blue with eucalyptus fumes.
Strands of Ann’s body armour shimmered in the sun as she pointed to a bend in the river. I knew it was going to be a long walk, but at least it was downhill.

More to come…

Springtime in Queensland


Full moon setting to the West… from the Story Hill.


Collum the carpet snake waking up after a winter sleep; he’s about 12 foot long and very docile. Most houses in the country have a resident Carpet Snake… better than having a Possum in the roof.  They eat all the rats and mice, possum’s, cats, and when they get big enough wallabies and bandicoots … and other snakes.  Years ago I seen a carpet snake about 25 foot long… it was big fella.  Watching them mate is a sight to see, they stand upright (4 or 5 foot high) and twist about each other, oblivious to everything except themselves.






The beauty of life



Every photo in all these pages is taken from the Story Hill, the views are ever changing like the days and seasons. I’m constantly amazed at the new vistas, country I’ve never seen before… yet I’ve been here for over 40 years and every day I’m still surprised.  For thousands and thousands of years the ‘Old People’ and their ‘Story Tellers’ watched the land from here and worked their magic… the magic is still here.

I cannot make magic… but I can use it.  I see things you cannot.



Tuchekoi this morning… looking NW from the Story Hill.





The other side of a Black Hole

ipad jan to june 2014 008


A black hole is a million, trillion Sun’s compressed beyond quantum, beyond imagination… and on the other side or at the centre a new singularity is formed in another space-time dimension. We are all a part of the beginning, we carry the information in our own ‘dark matter’… some people call it our soul; something that is nothing, the ‘blue print’ of life.  Remember the first law.  We are part of the first speck of matter, the first singularity.  We are made of stars and black holes.

But where did the first singularity come from… and who made God?  To understand the small things we have to look at the big picture. Big is small and small is big and then you have something in 2 places at the same time; quantum is a bother.  Whatever you can imagine is true.

I see things you cannot, I see things that cannot be seen.

For every action an opposite and equal reaction… the first law.







Nothing escapes the first law, every single action in the universe has an opposite and equal reaction… that is a fact. We started as a singularity contained in space time with one law … the first law.

I see what you cannot, I see beyond quantum and dark matter… I perceive what cannot be seen.  I am you, you are me… we are the same.  This is not a riddle, it’s a fact.


The Prophecy


I see things you cannot…I see the future and know the past. This place where I live has a history of prophecy going back before the Sphinx, before the oldest place known to Man.  This place goes back to the Dreaming, the beginning.

Be careful what you ask



ISLAND HEAD: the beginning.

DSCN2915_Fotor bent-star


Something out of nothing


Sunset last night from the Story Hill

I started with a blank sheet of virtual paper, now I have a few words in your head… a story starts; ‘Something out of nothing.’  I’m going to show you something remarkable, over the next few months I’m going to build something from nothing.

The Plan. Build a structure to meet all my energy needs into the future for 4 people.  It must be totally self sufficient: food, water, lighting, heating, cooking, cooling, power making- energy storing, waist management.  The total off-grid system for 4 people.

Everything starts with a dream, I’m going to show you how to turn a dream into reality. I’m going to inspire you… slowly, slowly at first, then gradually we’ll pick up steam.


This morning from the Story Hill…


Sunday 14th August…  What I need now is some wood… and ‘wallah’ a tree fall’s down in the last big wind.


Now I have to cut it up into manageable pieces and drag in to where I need it.




The one job where you start at the top, digging a hole


Thats what I see; fog in the Mary Vally, Bandicoot digging – Wampoo calling…



The soul of a place



The fire’s going, TV’s on… it’s warm and snug on the Story Hill: Winter in Queensland.


Why do I think this place is special, why do I think this place was special to the Aboriginals… and why do I think – know, this place was and is, a Story Hill… the equivalent to the holy of holy places.
First and most obviously it is the only spot, the only hill, the only fixed place that you can see the Sun climb and descend Eerwah… and in the middle of this up and down process is summer solstice. The Sun moves into Eerwah on the 22nd November, every day appearing to climb the mountain until solstice on the 21/22nd December with the Sun resting on the right hand chock at the top; this is as far West as the Sun goes. 31 days to climb to solstice and 31 days to descend; the Sun has 62 days in Eerwah… more than any other place as seen from the Story Hill. There are ridges and flats where you can observe the same thing, but no fixed spot like the Story Hill.


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The Story Hill is a natural place to spy out the land. From the Story Hill you can predict the weather, see birds and animals migrating; you can see at least 50 miles in all directions, unlike most of this country of rainforests and valleys.


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The piles of quartz rocks scattered around the top of the hill. Quartz was a magical rock to the aboriginals. Roth, (the first Queensland government protectorate of Aboriginal’s in the late 1800’s) noted in his book; that aboriginal’s all over Queensland revere’d quartz. The Elders or Story Tellers would polish a pice of quartz, and it was this pice of quartz (not bone as some of the early settlers thought) that the Story Teller would point at some unfortunate person. The pointing of the quartz (bone) would kill people within weeks.
I believe the piles of quartz rock scattered around the top of the hill would be the remains of a sacred ‘Bora Ring’. (In the 1970’s Tommy Tomlin came to see us when we were living in the ‘old house’… the house his father had built in the 1920’s.) His Father was a returned solder from WW1 and took up the Story Hill block as a ‘Solder Settler Block’ in 1925/7. Tommy was only to happy to share all the history he knew about the 250 acre block of land. The name of the Story Hill had been forgotten in the 50 odd years since the last Story Teller… Tommy just called it; ‘Blackfella Hill’. He told us about the piles of quartz on top of  Blackfellow Hill, his father had believed a bullock wagon from the Gympie gold rush, full of gold bearing quartz had broken down on top of the hill; the driver unloading the quartz to save his team and waggon. Tommy’s father had crushed some of the quarts rocks, but found no gold. What I believe is more likely is, the rocks were moved by a bullock team, when Red Cedar was first harvested in this district in the 1860’s. A bullock team hauling timber would sooner or later climb one of the 3 ridges leading to the Story Hill, once at the top the driver would have no option but to move some of the rocks in the Bora Ring to get the team across… breaking the magic of Millennium.


The Story Hill is the watershed for the twin Blackfellow, the North and South Blackfellow creeks. The Vally between these 2 creeks I believe would have been the last camp of the clan that owned the Story Hill, the ‘Cak-cool-la-wahe-le’ or ‘Kaggoollawhalie’ a Cubi Cubi or Kubie speaking people. Their Story Teller would have stayed up on the Story Hill, seeking guidance from Eerwah; only Story Tellers or Elders could go to a Story Place. The people would have camped at the bottom of the Story Hill in the valley between the 2 creeks, hoping for a miracle. And all the while more white people would have come into the district, looking for land, timber and gold. The white people would have noted the camp of Black People between the 2 creeks… so they called the creeks; the North Blackfellow and the South Blackfellow … the same names they have today.



The things that have happened to me since living on the Story Hill. I’v changed, my thinking has changed… I see things you cannot.

A decade ago, one of my neighbours stopped me one morning down at my gate. He asked me had I heard about ‘Power-link’ (the state owned company charged with connecting towns with power stations) running high voltage power lines between huge steel pylons through his property and alongside mine then into the next Vally to the South. We had a cup of coffee at his place, and he showed me the plans for the preposed root. It was like a slap in the face, he told me he was getting a Barrister to fight it. I told him, he’d be waisting his money, if the Government wanted to do something, their wasn’t much we could do about it. When I got home, somebody else rang me about the power lines and pylons cutting their property in half, I told them the same thing; Landholders had no chance against the Government. I couldn’t see what we could do, we would just have to except it… like it or not.
A few months later, one of my neighbours came up and seen me, he’s an electrician and knew exactly where the pylons were going. He wanted to take me for a drive and show me what was going to happen. I told him the same thing I’d told everyone; ‘Ya cant fight the Government.’ Even so he took me for a drive and showed me where the pylons were going. I was horrified. Sitting in his car he asked me to do something to stop it, he wanted my help and could I stop it from happening.
Something happened to me then, like an ancient voice in my mind, a power from the land… something stirred, some connection was made.

2008 05 20 026

A few days later I was going over everything in my mind, when I looked up at Eerwah. I’d never seen it so clear… it loomed from the land with a presence that was undeniable. I remember I was transfixed, I couldn’t believe something so big had been their for so long without me ever seeing it as I was seeing it then; it was a total revelation… an epiphany. I was seeing something that had been staring me in the face for years. In that moment I knew the power lines and pylons were not going to happen, I knew it with an absolute certainty. I was going to stop it from happening; me, I was the Story Teller, I had the power to do this.
The next day I started writing letters; I started with the Prime Minister, Kevin Rudd. I knew he had been brought-up within sight of Eerwah. Next was the Premier of Queensland, then the head honcho of Power-link, the Minister in charge of Power-link down to the local State member of parliament and the local council… even aboriginal sport stars. The papers, radio and TV; anybody and everybody, but mostly the boss of Power-link. What I was pointing out was; the Story Hill and Eerwah were linked, that it was an ancient Aboriginal site of significance. That I would and could organise protests to stop the deliberate trashing of an Aboriginal site of significance. I also pointed out that the more Power-link pushed, the more powerful I would become.

pylons in front Eearwah


At the same time the residents who were going to be effected by the preposed power lines through their properties started to organise them selves into a lobby group called P.A.G.E.? They held meetings (I went to most of them) and raised money(I donated over 50 bucks) to employ experts to write letters. Power-link spent millions of dollars buying properties, and all the time I told Power-link it wasn’t going to happen. I said it wouldn’t be hippies chaining themselves to trees, but landholders, farmers and rich retires.
And then without warning, Power-link put a notice in the local paper saying they weren’t going ahead with the project, no reason was given, that was the end of it. P.A.G.E. took the credit for stoping the project, I never said anything… only a few people knew of the effort I put into stopping the trashing of an aboriginal site. I never wanted accolades, I am what I am, the Story Teller, the Oracle of Eerwah.com
I tell the stories, its up to you to make of them what you will.


At the start of the Power-link debacle I woke up one Winter morning to a blood-red sunrise with the full moon setting in the rising Sun; this is impossible but I was watching it happen. After a few heart beats I realised what was happening; 3 sides of my bedroom is all glass, somehow the setting moon in the Mary Vally to the West was transferred around the glass windows to the East where the Sun was rising out of Timbeawah. I have never seen this happen again and blood-red dawns are a rarity. That day, 2 full-blood aboriginals came to the Story Hill out of the blue, one had to leave because of the ‘spirits’ … the one that stayed is a life-long friend.
I think about how things happen like that. Some people would say it’s more than a coincidence… what do you think?
Some of the thing’s that have happened to me on the Story Hill, I won’t talk about; I find them to weird, to confronting … to unreal. I have written them down but I wont publish them while I’m alive.
The thing is, how many years have Aboriginals lived on the Sunshine Coast, how many years have they danced on the Story Hill? Most likely way before the Sphinx and the pyramids, way, way before Stonehenge, the Bible and J.C… right back to the ‘Dreaming’… but how long ago was that?


I like science, I like facts that can be proven. Religion, folk-law and fairy tails don’t do much for me. They are all about ‘faith,’ believing in something with no proof. Its like the ‘monetary system’ as long as most of us ‘believe’ we can get our money out of the banks, it works. But if half of us stopped believing our money is safe, and we started withdrawing it (a run on the Banks) the system would collapse … we’d have chaos



Even the most hard-headed Scientist and ignorant Fundamentalist reach a point in their thinking, where there is no explanation, nothing fits. Its like; what was before the Big Bang or who made God… there is no answer. Equally, some of the things that have happened to me on the Story Hill, have no rational explanation; they just happen. I look at it as some kind of Quantum thing, a part of a thought beyond the sub-atomic left over from thousands of years ago. Is it possible that millions of sub-atomic particles smaller than a Quark can somehow fuse into a thought, a vision of some kind… even an action?




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