Probably Nothing, Just the Wind.

Probably Nothing, Just the Wind

In the year 1870, Michael and Elizabeth Johnson arrived in Adelaide, South Australia on the sailing ship ‘Monsoon’. They took up residence in a small flat in North Adelaide until Michael, with his experience in communications in England, secured a position working on the Overland Telegraph Line, a monumental project that promised to eventually connect the vastness of Australia back to England.

After 12 months, Michael and Elizabeth left Adelaide by train, bound for Port Agusta to the north, and then travel overland to Oodnadatta. From Port Agusta, they continue north to Oodnadatta by camel train. Afghans and their camels were bought to Australia for transporting materials, supplies and people across the arid vastness of the Australian outback.

Fresh from England, Michael and Elizabeth were filled with dreams of adventure and prosperity. Little did they know of the harshness, the isolation and the challengers the environment could throw at them.

The camel train drawing a coach, took three days to reach Oodnadatta, with overnight stops at Marree and Quron. As the coach jolted northward, the heat was oppressive and the irritating flies, trying to crawling up their nose, around the corners of their eyes and into their mouth, made the journey for Elizabeth almost unbearable. Dust settled onto her clothes and into her hair. Perspiration made trickles of mud down her forehead and face. What had they let themselves in for?

As the sun dipped below the horizon on the third day, casting long shadows across the arid expanse of the Australian outback, their destination, Oodnadatta, came into view. The small town lay at the edge of the Simpson Desert, where the sun scorched the earth by day and the stars blanketed the sky by night.

Accommodation for married couples was scarce, but fortune smiled upon them when they found a modest dwelling on a cattle station a few miles from town. The house was nestled near a spring-fed billabong, a precious resource in the harsh landscape. Not far from their new home was a settlement of the Pitjantjatjara people, whose presence was both a comfort and a curiosity to Elizabeth.

When Michael was called away for work, sometimes for a week or more, it meant leaving Elizabeth to navigate the solitude of the outback, she found solace in the company of an elderly Aboriginal woman named Jannal, affectionately known as Aunty May. Aunty May became a mentor to Elizabeth, sharing stories of the land, the native foods, its spirits, and its ancient traditions. One evening, as the sun set in a blaze of orange and purple, Aunty May spoke of a bunyip that lurked near the billabong.

“You no fear it, Kungkara¹,” she said, her voice a soothing balm. “Bunyip³, it look after the water, a spirit of our land.”

But the nights grew longer, and Elizabeth began to feel an unsettling presence. The restless wind, which blew from the north, would rattle the windows of their home, sounding eerily like someone tapping on the glass.

“Who’s there” Elizabeth called.

“It’s probably nothing<’ said Michael assuredly, “Probably just the wind.”

“But it is so constant, Michael. If it were the wind it would rattle, not a constant tap, tap, tap.”

Michael shrugged and dismissed her fears, attributing the noise to the desert winds, but Elizabeth could not shake the feeling that something was watching her,

“I’m sure it is someone or something knocking. Can you have a look?”

Michael went to the window but could see nothing, but the night was dark. He returned to his chair,

“It’s probably nothing.”

One fateful week, Michael was called away for an extended period, leaving Elizabeth alone. Aunty May returned to her settlement at sunset, and Elizabeth was left to face the encroaching darkness. As the wind picked up, its mournful wails echoed through the night, and the familiar tapping began at the window. Fear gripped her heart as she recalled Aunty May’s tales of the bunyip.

The wind howled like a banshee, and Elizabeth, trembling, retreated to a different room, hoping to escape the unsettling sounds. She huddled in the corner, her heart pounding in her chest, as the tapping persisted, relentless and insistent. Midnight came, and the wind began to die down, but the tapping remained, a ghostly reminder that she was not alone. Unknown spirits of this strange land, never experienced by a young English woman, fresh from the green pastures of Hampshire in England.

When dawn finally broke, Elizabeth was a shadow of her former self, her eyes still reflecting the night’s terror. Aunty May arrived, her wise gaze immediately assessing Elizabeth’s state. “What trouble you, Kungkara¹ ?” she asked, concern etched on her face. Elizabeth recounted the night’s events, her voice trembling as she spoke of the tapping and the fear that had gripped her.

Aunty May listened intently, her expression grave. “It is water spirit,” she said softly. “Bunyip, he come to visit you. I ask the Ngangkari² man. He protect you.”

The Ngangkari, a healer and spiritual guide, arrived shortly after, his presence commanding a calming. He carried with him an air of ancient wisdom, and Elizabeth felt a flicker of hope as he arrived at their home. The Ngangkari² examined the surroundings, his keen eyes taking in every detail. He began to lay secret charms around the house, whispering incantations in a language Elizabeth could not understand.

“Water spirit, it not cross line,” Aunty May assured her, her voice steady and reassuring. “You not let frightened. Spirit it curious, not evil.”

As the days turned into weeks, Elizabeth found herself growing more accustomed to the outback’s rhythms. The tapping at the window became less frequent, and she took comfort in Aunty May’s visits and the Ngangkari’s protective charms. Yet, the memory of that night lingered in the back of her mind, a haunting reminder of the unknown.

One evening, as the sun dipped low in the sky, Elizabeth sat by the billabong, the cool breeze brushing against her skin. She watched the ripples dance across the surface, her thoughts drifting to Michael and the life they were building together. But as twilight descended, a chill swept through the air, and the wind began to rise once more.

With the chill in the air growing deeper, Elizebeth returner to the house, then she noticed that the tapping returned, louder and more insistent than before. The former panic surged through her. The Ngangkari’²s charms glimmered faintly in the dim light, but she could feel the presence of the bunyip growing stronger, as if it were testing the boundaries of its confinement.

Desperate for answers, Elizabeth sought out Aunty May, who listened carefully to her fears. “The bunyip is restless,” she said, her brow furrowed in thought. “It want talk with your spirit,. You must meet it, but as friend, not frightened,.”

That night, as the wind grew stronger and the tapping echoed through the house, Elizabeth steeled herself. She stepped outside, the cool night air wrapping around her like a shroud. The moon cast an ethereal glow over the billabong, illuminating the shadows that danced along its edges.

“Show yourself!” she called into the darkness, her voice trembling but resolute. “I am not afraid of you!”

For a moment, silence enveloped her, and the wind stilled. Then, from the depths of the billabong, a figure began to emerge. It was not the monstrous creature of her nightmares, but a shimmering silhouette, gliding gracefully above the surface. The Bunyip, a guardian of the marsh lands, gazed at her with eyes that held centuries of wisdom.

“I mean you no harm,” Elizabeth said, her voice steadying as she spoke. “I seek to understand you.”

The bunyip paused, its form rippling like water, and Elizabeth felt a connection, a bond that transcended fear. In that moment, she understood that the spirit was not a threat, but a protector of the land and its resources.

Before the dawn broke, the Bunyip retreated into the depths of the billabong, leaving Elizabeth with a sense of peace. She returned to the house, her heart lighter, knowing that she had faced her fears and emerged stronger. The tapping at the window had ceased, and the wind settled into a gentle breeze.

When Michael returned, he found Elizabeth transformed, her spirit unbroken by the trials of the outback. Together, they continued to build their life in Oodnadatta, forever changed by the encounter with the Bunyip, a reminder that sometimes, what we fear most can lead us to understanding and connection with the world around us.

And as the wind whispered through the trees, Elizabeth knew that it could indeed be just the wind—but then, sometimes it was so much more.

¹ Pitjantjatjara word for "young woman.”

² Ngangkari; Traditional Healer or clever man.

³ A bunyip is a large mythical creature from Australian Aboriginal mythology said to dwell in swamps, billabongs, creek beds, and waterholes.