FLYING up to Cairns from Sydney in August 2011, I got to see plenty of cool things (as usual). Past the Queensland border the clouds cleared, revealing the scarred terrain and chalky cliffs which I knew had to be Carnarvon Gorge. The landscape flattened, grew drier... and presently a river appeared, half clogged up with sand. Peering down through my porthole as much as my jetfright allowed, I felt a strange clarity... not that I could actually count the grains of sand on that bed, but I could imagine what it would be like to walk upon it, five sensually. Quintessentially, as the French would say. I felt that creek's spirit in my mind. Perhaps this was the Rainbow Spirit, or Yirmbal as he is called, up in the Top End...
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