The chuditch (Dasyurus geoffroii)– also know as the western quoll – is another of those small-to-medium-sized mammals that only occurs in Australia, but has been almost completely wiped out during the past 200 years. Their natural distribution has been reduced by more than 90 per cent since European settlement and its last remaining natural strongholds are a handful of isolated populations south of Perth. 

A few limited translocations earlier this century saw the chuditch reintroduced to South Australia, although it remains endangered there. And the species continues to be either extinct or presumed extinct in the Northern Territory, New South Wales, Queensland and Victoria.

After a decade of planning, in 2023 Australian Wildlife Conservancy (AWC) carried out the first of five planned translocations to Mt Gibson Wildlife Sanctuary, 350km north-east of Perth, of animals caught from remnant wild chuditch populations near Perth. It was the start of an ambitious plan that might one day lead to the species being re-established across much of its former range.

Related: A guide to all six species of quoll

‘A huge program’

Mammal reintroductions have been a key feature of management for the Mt Gibson sanctuary and crucial to this has been the property’s large predator-free enclosure. Almost 8000ha of the property’s most intact habitat has been protected within a 43km x 1.82m specially designed feral-proof fence.

In 2015 AWC began reintroducing to the property 10 mammal species that had been extinct in the area for many years, including nine species that are also threatened at the national level. It started with the greater bilby in 2016, and has since seen populations of numbat, woylie, Shark Bay bandicoot, red-tailed phascogale, greater stick-nest rat, banded hare-wallaby and the WA subspecies of the brushtail possum become established within the safety of Mt Gibson’s feral predator–free enclosure. 

“It’s been a huge program. But it’s been worth it,” says Isabel ‘Issie’ Connell, a field ecologist and senior guide at the Mt Gibson sanctuary. “This is the first place in the world to reintroduce so many species into one area.” 

Not only have these reintroduced populations begun to flourish safely away from the foxes and cats that have decimated their numbers, but the environment has also begun to visibly respond positively to the presence of the animals. 

“Something that many people may not be aware of is how important these animals are in the ecosystem and in the landscape,” Issie says. She points out that, as a result, the condition of the soil inside the fence is remarkably better than it is outside. “That’s because of the work done by the animals we’ve reintroduced there,” she says.

The extensive scratching and digging – while looking for food and making burrows – by the mammal species so far introduced behind the fence turns over huge quantities of soil every day. “The reason this is so important,” Issie says, “is that every time a little dig is done, it’s breaking up the topsoil and pulling down nutrients. When it rains the water doesn’t just run off, it actually penetrates the ground, and this can really have quite a quick effect on the quality of the habitat.”

The return of the chuditch to Mt Gibson began in 2023 with the same sort of intensive planning that had been undertaken for the other species, but with one important difference: The other mammals are mostly herbivorous, but the chuditch is a carnivore that eats large invertebrates, reptiles and small mammals. For now it has been decided to establish the translocated chuditch populations outside the predator-proof fence, to give the protected herbivores within more time to become established before being exposed to another native predator. (Natural populations of goannas, snakes and birds of prey all presently hunt for food behind the fence.) 

The other issue facing chuditch is that, being a carnivore, the species requires a much larger home range than other herbivores – a male chuditch can range across at least 1500ha and females need up to 400ha for hunting prey and searching for mates. 

As a result, an intensive effort went into making a huge area outside the fence as free of feral predators as possible for the chuditch translocations. “To be able to release outside the fence, we had to get cats and foxes down to a reasonable level,” says Georgie Anderson, who was until recently the senior field ecologist at Mt Gibson. Foxes are now rarely seen on the sanctuary or the surrounding area, but feral cats are an ongoing problem. 

“Cats are a big thing for us and incredibly difficult to manage, because different approaches work for different cats,” Georgie says. “So we do a whole suite of different controls.” Feral cat suppression is an ongoing part of management right across the property, and it was stepped up about 18 months before the first chuditch translocation, in the area where they were being released. 

“Across Mt Gibson we trap for cats. We also aerial- and ground-bait with Eradicat® [a commercial product that uses 1080 poison]. But we’ve also been trialling the Felixer grooming trap for the past year.” A Felixer is a device that uses a camera-based artificial intelligence system to attract feral cats, recognise them and spray them with 1080, which they then ingest when they groom.

Related: “A diabolical problem needing radical answers”: when cats are not so cute

Breeding underway

The fifth and final translocation of wild chuditch went ahead at Mt Gibson in May 2024, releasing 18 animals caught at Dryandra Woodland National Park, 180km south-east of Perth. In the 12 months prior to the release, more than 20 feral cats were removed from the area using a combination of Felixers and traps. As with the other releases, a mix of male and female chuditch were chosen and released at selected locations outside the fence, after first resting up for vet checks and a good feed at Perth’s Chuditch Hotel, a purpose-built facility operated by Native Animal Rescue.

Some of the released animals were fitted with radio-tracking collars, and data from these revealed some animals dispersed far and wide shortly after release, even as far as neighbouring properties. These data, along with field sightings, trapping of the translocated animals and evidence from camera traps, demonstrated that the program overall has so far been successful in establishing a chuditch population back at Mt Gibson.

“We’ve shown that we’ve got really high survivorship, with a couple of mortalities from predation. But some of those predation events have been by native animals, including by a bird of prey,” Georgie says. “There were a couple of mortalities that were likely to be cat or fox. But it was low enough that we think the majority are doing okay.”

Perhaps, however, the best indicators of the population’s health are signs of breeding and there has been clear evidence of that, with six new individuals detected either in traps or on camera in recent months.

Please help save the chuditch

You can help Australian Wildlife Conservancy continue its chuditch translocation program, vital to the ongoing survival of the species, by contributing funds to Australian Geographic Society’s Australia’s Most Endangered campaign.

Donate here.

The post Rescuing the chuditch appeared first on Australian Geographic.

Building the three big R’s – roads, railways and runways around Australia – was great nation-building work at the time. A flight around Australia would not only “prove it could be done”, but be reconnaissance to investigate areas for airfield construction. It was the early days of air travel and public confidence was buoyed by intrepid flights. The adventure captured the nation’s attention, was spread across newspaper front pages and was followed by families listening to the wireless in their sitting rooms. 

Wing Commander Stanley ‘Jimmy’ Goble and Flight Lieutenant Ivor McIntyre (G&M) of the RAAF had been tasked to undertake the mission, following the coast, and chose to use a Fairey Mk III Seaplane because there weren’t enough runways to cater for a conventional aeroplane. This caused all sorts of complications – fuel drums were delivered to about 50 rivers, lakes and beaches over several months by sea and land, so they could land on water and refuel. They often slept by the plane.

Five years of planning

In 2019 I was preparing to fly from England to Australia in Southern Sun, retracing the original flight by Keith and Ross Smith to commemorate that centenary, when I received an email from businessman and entrepreneur Dick Smith, who founded this magazine, suggesting I start planning for the centenary of the first flight around Australia in 2024. Dick has been one of my inspirational heroes since I was a teenager, so of course I said yes. That was only the first step in five years of planning and research that led to this endeavour. I was assisted enormously by Tom Lockley from the New South Wales branch of the Aircraft Historical Society of Australia, who researched and wrote a short book, First Flight Around Australia. It became my bible for the trip, guiding me to towns, bodies of water and even the dates and times to land.

A faithful reconstruction

On the original journey there were many delays – the month they’d planned for extended to six weeks. I decided I would follow their route and dates as closely as possible, but would have to make some changes due to the passage of time, modern practicalities and even for personal satisfaction. I’d embark in Southern Sun, a twin engine amphibian, able to land on water or land. I also decided to follow the Gulf of Carpentaria coast all the way around (see map below) rather than flying directly across the top like G&M had done. 

Apart from those two major changes, I planned to follow the same dates for the 44 days and choose the same landing spots, cities or towns. If G&M had been stuck somewhere for a few days, I’d wait those same days. I’d touch down on the water where they did, but then head to the closest local airport to refuel and park the plane overnight. For me to see the coast up close I’d hug the beach all the way at a height of 500ft, while filming using a standard and a 360-degree digital camera.

RAAF Base Point Cook was a land-and water-based airfield in the 1920s, with a large boat ramp and jetty for seaplane operations. G&M set off from Point Cook on Saturday 6 April 1924, a day later than planned due to rough seas. They made great progress on the first day, reaching Eden, on the far South Coast of NSW, for refuelling, then on to Rose Bay on Sydney Harbour for their first night’s stop. 

My departure on Saturday 6 April 2024 was late morning, after a send-off by RAAF personnel, family and friends, leaving plenty of time and daylight to reach Rose Bay. The first stop after following the rugged coast around Wilsons Promontory was a water landing on Corner Inlet, where G&M had put down to repair a leaking fuel tank. 

After a “splash’n’dash” (SnD) (as opposed to the “touch’n’go” performed by land planes), I noticed a lot of low cloud and scud rain rolling through, so diverted to Yarram airfield in southern Victoria to sit out the weather. Visibility wasn’t good for flying, but I could do something not possible 100 years earlier – open my iPad and study the radar display of weather moving through via the Bureau of Meteorology app. This has been one of the greatest safety advances for aviators and would be used many times throughout my trip. When the weather improved, I departed, tracking east along Ninety Mile Beach, but soon it became clear there was still more low cloud ahead. I headed to Bairnsdale, near Lakes Entrance, for the night, accepting that already, on Day 1, I was already behind! Disappointing, but safety must be the first consideration.

Next morning, a blue enough sky welcomed me back to the airfield and I continued. An SnD at Eden, where G&M refuelled, then on to Rose Bay for a never-gets-old flight over Sydney Harbour with a view of the Bridge and the Opera House, followed by an SnD at Rose Bay. It was early enough for me to recover lost time and continue on to Myall River, putting me back on schedule by the end of the day. G&M left Rose Bay at lunchtime, having waited the morning for rain to clear. 

But heading north along the coast, they encountered more weather and couldn’t get more than 100ft above the water without entering cloud. North of Newcastle they abandoned plans and headed into Port Stephens, looking for shelter. They alighted on the Myall River and stayed the night. I put down on Myall Lakes and was met by local friends. We had dinner cooked over an open fire and I slept in the plane. This was one of my favourite nights of the whole trip and reset my mind from manic departure mode into adventure mode; Day 2, and I was now in the groove. 

Things progressed well up the coast: clear weather, no delays, and stops in hospitable Southport and Gladstone in Queensland. 

My arrival in Townsville needs special mention. A couple of weeks before the trip I was contacted by the RAAF 6 Squadron, based at Amberley, near Gladstone. They confirmed the RAAF would commemorate the centenary with a circumnavigation of Australia by a pair of EA-18G Growler aircraft, taking seven days, and they’d time their departure to rendezvous with me in the air over Townsville, then we’d park together overnight at the air base: very exciting and not something private pilots ever experience! 

Beyond Townsville I continued up the increasingly undeveloped coast. G&M had three nights in Cooktown to repair a compass, so I stayed for three nights. Just as well – both days there it rained relentlessly and I couldn’t have flown anyway.

Related: Around the nation in 44 days

Awe-inspiring Kimberley

I was looking forward to Cape York, where G&M spent seven days on Thursday Island because of weather and for maintenance. After a splash on the protected water to the north-west of the island, I flew into Horn Island, which has full airport facilities and even commercial flights from the south. I was keen to see some of the Torres Strait islands from the air, before visiting by boat on a few spare days ahead. My wife flew in with Qantas, and we spent a few days exploring Horn, Prince of Wales, Thursday and Friday islands. From beautiful beaches to a fort, a historic cemetery to a pearl farm, a local art gallery to discovering a scrumptious crayfish toastie for lunch – it was a wonderful, if brief, taste of the area.

Rather than wait a week, on the fourth day I ventured south along the coast to follow the shoreline of the Gulf of Carpentaria for a few days, including dropping in to see my brother and his family who live on Vanderlin Island, about halfway along the Gulf, north of Borroloola. I then had a night on Elcho Island before arriving in Darwin for a few nights, then on to two highly anticipated days in Western Australia’s Kimberley – my first time. The further from Darwin and closer to Napier Broome Bay I flew, the more spectacular the scenery became, but it was next day, en route to Broome, that the Kimberley’s full allure was revealed. All the awe-inspiring beauty that’s made it one of the world’s bucket-list destinations lay before me. The Horizontal Falls, my single most anticipated destination, did not disappoint. At the time of my arrival mine was the only aircraft in the area, so I had complete access, allowing me to explore over and around the falls. Gobsmacking indeed…if two days of this coast had been a perfect degustation of visual treats, then this was the cherry on top. 

Arriving in Broome on a high, I was greeted warmly by the ground crew and air-traffic controllers. The Horizontal Falls air-tour operators even put Southern Sun up in their hangar for my stay. My two nights there let me catch up with some other seaplane pilots who were on a clockwise flight around Australia and also visit one of my favourite places – Sun Pictures, the oldest outdoor cinema in Australia. It’s a real Broome institution. On to Port Hedland, where I spoke to School of the Air kids on an excursion and showed them over the plane. Next, Carnarvon, where everything was about to come to a grinding halt.

G&M arrived in Carnarvon on the Facine, the sheltered stretch of water in front of the town that today has a lovely boardwalk and provides safe anchorage. When they tried to depart the next day, they were unable to attain full power on the engine. The engineer tried but failed to remedy the problem, leading to an unplanned 10-day delay. Luckily, they had a spare Rolls Royce engine in Perth, just in case it was needed. Today, it’s a 10-hour drive to Carnarvon on a sealed highway, but back then it took seven days, on a train then a truck on a difficult track. Once the engine arrived, it was exchanged and tested successfully in a single day, all the more amazing because there was no crane available and they were working in shallow water on the beach where the plane was resting. 

I made good use of the 10-day Carnarvon stop, meeting locals, visiting the excellent Space and Technology Museum and speaking at schools. I carried out maintenance on my plane in the Coral Coast Helicopters hangar and caught up on work and some writing. On 11 May 1924, Day 36, G&M restarted their journey southbound, as did Southern Sun in 2024, with a brief splash in Geraldton then on to Perth, where they alighted on the Swan River at 4.15pm for an overnight stop. I was excited to land on the Swan, at Elizabeth Quay, parallel to Langley Park just south of the CBD, a spectacular location, and was determined to land 100 years to the minute after G&M. With the help of Perth’s Air Traffic Control, Swan River Seaplanes and a few minutes of orbits overhead, I successfully splashed down right on 4.15pm – huzzah! 

The next few days saw stops along a coastline visually the equal of the Kimberley – the Margaret River region, Albany, Esperance and onto Israelite Bay – for one of the more memorable nights of the journey. G&M stopped on the semi-protected waters of Israelite Bay, in the Great Australian Bight, at the Telegraph Station. Today, that building is abandoned, the roof and other features long removed by the passage of time and weather. But striking ruins remain, with no-one in sight. I was able to land on a sandy strip beside a dry lake and spend the night, camping in the plane. I took a long walk around the area to the beach and through the ruins, finishing with a slightly sad tin of tuna. However, thanks to clear skies and a carpet of stars, it was both surreal yet splendid.

The most spectacular day

Thee longest flight of the trip was next, across the Bight to Ceduna in South Australia. There was simply nowhere suitable for water landings across this famously rugged coastline. I thought a lot about the several people who have circumnavigated Australia by kayak…this would be one tough stretch to conquer. The cliffs along this coast are 60–120m high. On a most spectacular flying day, sitting 500ft above the ocean, I was awarded an incredible view back to the cliffs, at times seeing the Nullarbor Highway and people parked by the cliffs’ edge. I found myself pondering the images we see of huge chunks of Antarctic ice falling into the sea each season, and wondered whether my video camera might chance upon a rock version of it during these couple of days. Alas, all remained intact (for now).

The next leg, from Ceduna to Port Lincoln, would be judged, by me, to be winner of the Southern Sun Award for the most spectacular day of the entire Australian coastline. It was so varied, with dramatic cliffs faces in colours from rich red, brown and off-white, along with vast dunes, white sandy beaches, azure blue water and intricate bays. It was a smorgasbord of nearly everything I’d seen over six weeks. That night, to top it all off, I enjoyed fresh Coffin Bay oysters from the waters I’d flown over only hours earlier.

On reflection, the Kimberley came a close second. That region really does deserve the accolades and sense of awe in our collective psyche.

The joy of followers

With only two days to go, a mixed sense of relief of nearly being home and sadness that it was nearly over, yet trepidation that anything could still go wrong, kept me alert. Here I flew the longest over-water stretches of the journey as I crossed the Spencer Gulf and Gulf of St Vincent, past Kangaroo Island, to reconnect with the coast at Cape Jarvis. Then along the almost mythical sandy stretches of the Coorong (thanks to a childhood instilled love of Storm Boy), towards Beachport. Alas, on Day 43 of the trip, it was too rough to alight. This was a shame because quite a crowd of locals were there to meet Southern Sun, so I performed a few orbits over the Beachport town and foreshore and continued on to the closest local airport at Millicent. There, as with many of the airfields en route, I was greeted by locals who had been following the flight. This is one of the joys of all travel, meeting people along the way, connecting with communities, albeit quickly. There is often a cuppa, a chat and a lift into town on offer. 

Sunday 19 May, Day 44 – the final leg. A pretty tough day of flying, frankly, with a lot of weather to fly around along the coast, passing the Apostles, through the heads and up Port Phillip, to an orbit over St Kilda then back to overhead Point Cook at exactly 2.10pm, 100 years to the minute that G&M arrived. 

A splendid afternoon of welcome-home celebrations followed. I was a tad elated to find a crowd, an RAAF flight display, two pairs of fire trucks forming a water arch to taxi through and even the Air Force Band, which played at the return of the original flight 100 years ago. A huge thanks to the RAAF.

Reflecting on the original flight, while looking at what has changed in 100 years – without a doubt, planes are more reliable today. G&M navigated with a compass, a speedometer and a watch. Today, GPS tells us exactly where we are, reducing both workload and stress levels! They often spent hours fuelling the plane, transferring small tins while wading through the water to the plane to make up the 400 litres needed. Today there are hundreds of airports around the country equipped with fuel bowsers, making it generally as easy as filling a car. G&M didn’t have a radio and could go days without being in touch with the outside world, with people worried for their safety, whereas today we have access to aviation radio, satellite tracking and Internet, and mobile phones working on about 80 per cent of the coast. They didn’t take a camera, while I had a digital camera and two video cameras running, even live-streaming at times.

But what I did find that was remarkably the same was the weather – G&M were delayed in certain areas, mainly the east coast, Cape York and the Gulf of Carpentaria. At the same time of year I also faced the same problematic weather – so it seems 100 years later, autumn low cloud and heavy rain are still a challenge for small planes. I went four weeks straight without a drop of rain after the Gulf of Carpentaria, until crossing the border from SA into Victoria on the last day. Of course it rained – welcome to Melbourne!

Another thing that thankfully hasn’t changed is the generosity of strangers and how communities come together to help each other. In 1924 they always found the locals would help them to refuel, beach the aircraft or help lift it off when the tide went out further than expected, be fed and bedded when needed. Similarly, I had people always willing to give me a lift, offer a bed or put on a barbecue dinner for locals interested in the flight, wanting to chat and learn more. Especially in the regions, hospitality and helpfulness is alive and well.

Finally, as I flew past the many towns of the east coast of Australia, I reflected on the changes to infrastructure and cities along the way, what we would typically call the “progress of civilisation”. But once I passed Cooktown to the north, signs of humankind became a rare sight, and for the next month, most of the time I didn’t even see buildings, let alone cities; the vastness of uninhabited Australia prevailed. It really sank in that, for the vast majority of this country, 100 years is a mere blip in time. For so much of the myriad of stunning, rugged and gorgeous coastline, nothing much has changed over 10,000 years. 

This centenary is also an RAAF celebration, while I am proud to be sponsored by Australian Geographic to retrace this journey and share the story. I carried commemorative airmail, an AG flag and an RAAF Ensign (flag) throughout the trip. The latter has now been donated to the RAAF Museum at Point Cook, and will form part of a display. It’s been a wonderful experience, which I look forward to sharing more of. But for now I’m getting back to work until the next big idea comes along!

To see more, visit southernsun.voyage/aroundoz100 or the SouthernSunTV YouTube page, where there are multiple videos of scenery covering the journey. There simply aren’t enough adjectives to adequately describe the beauty of our coastline. 

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The latest iteration of the roadshow series will see Dr Geoff Wilson AM and Tom Robinson take to the stage at The Homestead Event Centre at Currumbin Wildlife Sanctuary on Thursday 1 August from 6.30pm–8.30pm to discuss their awe-inspiring adventures.

A living legend

Dr Geoff Wilson AM is a living legend. One of the world’s leading polar explorers while also meeting the demands of life as veterinary surgeon, entrepreneur and dedicated family man, Geoff squeezes every drop out of life. He’s developed a staggering level of resilience through a lifetime of pushing his mind and body through the harshest of wild places. His steel-trap mindset has equipped him with the fervour to pursue audacious challenges all over the globe, inspiring others along the way to find their own adventures. Geoff’s bold spirit, combined with his commitment to pushing the limits of human endurance, has earned him admiration and respect from adventurers and enthusiasts around the world.

Come along and hear from Geoff he recounts tales from the first stage of Project Zero, his latest adventure which aims to show that epic adventure can be sustainable. Geoff and his team, which includes his son Kitale, are currently exploring some of the world’s most isolated and vulnerable regions on a zero emissions quest to document the impact of climate change. He’s back in Australia for a short time before heading off again in late August so don’t miss this rare chance to encounter Geoff in person close to his home near Currumbin on Queensland’s Gold Coast.

From the headlines

Tom Robinson made headlines in September last year when he was rescued by a cruise ship after he capsized off Vanuatu. Dubbed “the naked rower” by the media, Tom had traversed the Pacific Ocean in his hand built wooden rowboat Maiwar from Peru to the Cooks Islands, solo, nonstop and unassisted. He then island-hopped his way through small Pacific island nations until the journey ended just off Vanuatu. AG Society-supported-Tom has been recognised by the Guinness Book of World Records as the youngest person ever to row solo across the Pacific which he achieved the record at the age of 23 years and 128 days when he set out.

Come and hear Tom’s remarkable tale of survival on the high seas, what inspired his epic ocean rowing feat and his passion for traditional wooden boats.

Where: The Homestead Event Centre, Currumbin Wildlife Sanctuary, 28 Tomewin St, Currumbin QLD 4223

When: Thursday 1 August 2024, 6.30pm–8.30pm

Cost: $30pp

Tickets are available now!

The post Australian Geographic Society Awards Roadshow: Making Adventure Count appeared first on Australian Geographic.

BirdLife Australia’s Migratory Shorebird Conservation Action Plan identifies lack of awareness as a major threat to migratory shorebirds during their time in Australia. One of the biggest obstacles faced by shorebird conservation is that of capturing the attention of people long enough to effectively communicate why shorebirds and their habitats are worth protecting.

In 2016, Amellia came up with the idea for Wing Threads: Flight Around Oz to directly address this lack of awareness. “I could see that pursuing a flying adventure as a science educator had the potential to engage an audience unfamiliar with shorebirds and provide a platform from which to target educators and schools to incorporate shorebirds in their curriculum. While not everyone cares about shorebirds, most people are excited by stories of people pursuing their dreams of adventure,” says Amellia.

 Image credits: courtesy Amellia Formby

It took six years of flight training before Amellia was ready to embark on her journey. She left from White Gum Farm near Perth in June 2022. By flying a microlight, Amelia wanted to experience what it’s like to be a bird for herself and by sharing that bird’s eye view, spark empathy for the birds among those following her adventure.

“My aircraft has an open cockpit and is exposed to the elements just like a bird. It’s physical to fly, just like flapping your wings would be, and travels at a cruise speed of about 55 knots – not much faster than what shorebirds fly on migration,” says Amelia.  “As part of the trip, I visited 105 primary schools and spoke to 6550 students in urban, regional and remote parts of the country to promote stewardship of migratory shorebirds and their wetland habitats in collaboration with BirdLife Australia.”

The entire flight was 14,000km completed in 160 hours over 59 flight legs, which Amelia did over 12 months with ground crew support in the form of volunteers all around the country. Each flight leg covered 90-200 nautical miles, taking between 2-3.5 hours.

“In the end, it took 12 months to do what a bar-tailed godwit can do flying non-stop from Alaska to New Zealand in just 9 days!” she says. “It’s given me new appreciation for what these incredible birds do, the challenges they face and their vulnerability with ever-growing encroachment on the places they live. Many thanks to all the generous donors and sponsors, including the Australian Geographic Society, who contributed to make this journey possible.”

Related: Australian Geographic Adventurer of the Year Awards 2024: Nominations now open!

The post AG Society update: Wingthreads mission complete appeared first on Australian Geographic.

Numbats have been a feature of the AWC’s species recovery operations since the organisation’s early days. In 2002, when it acquired the property Yookamurra, in SA, and Scotia, in NSW, both sites had small numbat populations protected by predator-proof fences. Since then, the fences have grown and so too have the numbat populations at those properties. In fact, Scotia’s numbat numbers have been so healthy that in 2016–22 the property provided 73 animals to create or supplement populations at other AWC properties. These include the huge 1305sq.km Mt Gibson, north-east of Perth, that received 20 animals in 2016–18, and Mallee Cliffs National Park, in NSW, where in 2020–21 AWC released 30 numbats into a 9500ha fenced area – Australia’s biggest feral-free enclosure. Mallee Cliffs is managed in a joint partnership between AWC and the NSW National Parks and Wildlife Service.

“We’ve been able to continue to expand the number of reserves that numbats are at, as well as the number of populations and the extent of those populations,” explains Dr Jennifer Pierson, the senior ecologist with AWC’s national science team. “So [the species has] been spread across more of its former distribution, and that’s really critical to recovering the species.”

A unique marsupial

One of the first of many unusual things about the numbat is that it comes out into the open during the day: it’s one of very few strictly diurnal – day-active – native Australian mammal species. Most are either nocturnal or, in a lifestyle described as “crepuscular”, they venture out only in the dim light of dawn or dusk. It’s highly unusual to see small Aussie marsupials venture out in the open during daylight hours as the numbat does.

That’s because its behaviour is closely tied to the activity of termites, on which it feeds almost exclusively. As the day warms up, termites will move from underground nests to travel along “termite highways” near the soil’s surface, and that’s when numbats emerge from the safety of overnight dens and sleeping chambers to feed.

The numbat’s appearance and behaviour also set it apart. No other Australian marsupial looks like or could be mistaken for a numbat. It’s a stunning-looking mammal – red-grey fur with black and white bands, a long bushy tail and pointy ears. Those stripes are a form of camouflage known as disruptive colouration. They can make it stand out when it’s motionless, but, in the same way a zebra’s stripes incongruously equip it with an effective way of hiding on the African savannah, when a numbat moves, its markings can quickly make it disappear into the background.

Numbat movements are also remarkable, like those of a wind-up toy, or a figurine in a stop-go animation. Numbats’ main natural predators are birds of prey, which rely heavily on visual contact with their target when hunting. Those jerky movements displayed by numbats when they are out in the open, together with their colouration, are thought to be particularly confusing to visual predators like hawks and falcons.

The pattern of stripes is unique to each numbat, making it possible to identify individual animals. Recent research by Sian Thorne, from the University of Western Australia, used patterns of stripes to assess the size of the species’ remnant populations in WA. AWC is trialling the method in fenced areas. Since feral predators have been brought under control in the area with baiting programs undertaken independently of AWC, those remnant populations have also been doing well – in fact, better than thought.

“In terms of the remnant pops, we thought there was less than 1000 and now we think there’s probably closer to 2000, and potentially more,” Jennifer says. There’s perhaps another 500 safely surviving on AWC properties.

Related: The plight of the numbat

Widening the management focus

While simply increasing the size and spread of the numbat population has been an AWC priority to date, the organisation is now widening its management focus. “We’re very optimistic that numbat numbers are doing really well and so the two areas we are now focusing on in terms of management are genetic management of the population and the potential impacts of climate change,” Jennifer says. The individuals at the various sites – from WA to NSW – are being managed as one large population by the various bodies involved in numbat conservation. Because all the new sub-populations originated from the two tiny remnant populations, the genetics of all groups are being monitored to ensure inbreeding doesn’t occur.

“There are two things we are doing in terms of climate change, and one is – in conjunction with the genetic management – managing the population’s adaptive capacity,” Jennifer says. So establishing populations across the species’ former range will ensure individuals are exposed to a variety of conditions. In that way, natural selection will keep strong the species’ adaptive capacity – which is its ability to respond to changing environmental conditions.

But AWC has also just begun a large study looking at the “activity budgets” of numbats under different thermal conditions, which will show how numbats cope in drier and hotter conditions.

“We did a very big project this year at Mt Gibson, where we put high-tech collars on individuals so we could track their activity,” Jennifer says, explaining that multiple sensors on the collars revealed how and where an animal was moving around the environment. These data will indicate whether an animal can still forage enough when it’s hot to ensure it gets its necessary quota of termites.

“We got lucky, in a way – Mt Gibson had some incredible heatwaves this summer,” Jennifer says. “So we have an extraordinary amount of data under extreme heat conditions, tracking these animals through the season to see how they changed their activity budgets.”

The results will help scientists understand if and how they’ll need to alter their management as the effects of climate change continue to hit.

Help us help numbats

You can help AWC’s efforts to keep this beautiful little creature as a critical part of the Australian landscape by contributing funds to our Australia’s Most Endangered campaign.

Donate here.

The post Spreading the joy: Help us help our native numbats appeared first on Australian Geographic.

With Theroux I could dream of “little islands…each of which was a perfectly rounded piece of land, many of them just like drops of batter on a hot griddle, the ones that cook quickly”. But most of all, The Happy Isles of Oceania conjured up a picture of remoteness, of great distances from anywhere and everywhere, of the sorts of places that in our overly connected world are now almost impossible to find. To Theroux, the experience of the Pacific was “like the night sky, like outer space, and of island-hopping in that ocean being something like interplanetary travel”. 

In November 2023, I embarked with Coral Expeditions on one of their wonderful forays away from the Australian coast, this time on a voyage marketed as: “Through the Islands and Atolls of Micronesia”. Having family in Fiji, I’d travelled the less-trodden tracks across its islands many times, but Micronesia was all new to me. And what a revelation it would prove to be. 

As I flew from Sydney to Manila in the Philippines to join our ship, the Coral Adventurer, I thought back to my reading of The Happy Isles. Theroux was writing in the early 1990s, at the dawn of the age of the internet and hyperconnectivity, and I wondered now, more than a quarter of a century later, if any leg of our voyage would somehow still manage to evoke his notion of “interplanetary travel”. But as the voyage progressed, any possible disappointment was assuaged. 

Escaping the sweaty and heaving mega-city of Manila, with its press of perpetually dysfunctional traffic and 25-million-strong population, the Coral Adventurer headed first to some quieter and comparatively remote corners of the southern Philippines, where the ship’s guests enjoyed the warm embrace of locals amid dense tropical forests and the colourful delights of fringing coral reefs. Filipinos have a deserved reputation for being a happy and welcoming people, and ahead of each shore excursion the locals gathered on the beach or at a wharf, ready to shower us with handmade straw hats, fans and souvenir necklaces. An enthusiastic troupe of young dancers would usually be on hand to entertain us, but with a ghetto-blaster providing the backing track, the performers’ welcoming moves were more TikTok and YouTube than anything I’d imagined as authentically or ethnically Filipino. 

Our time in the Philippines ended on a high with a swim in the famous Sohoton Bay, Bucas Grande Island. There, trapped among smaller embayments and a cluster of forest-clad limestone islets, stingless jellyfish in their countless thousands silently pulse through a labyrinth of pellucid lagoons. Snorkelling among these graceful creatures felt weirdly like being suspended in nature’s own giant lava lamp. 

After five days in the Philippines, our vessel turned east for Palau, our first stop in Micronesia. Palau is at the westernmost end of the Caroline Islands, an archipelago of approximately 500 specks of land – much like Theroux’s firmament – strewn across more than 3500km of ocean to the north of the Equator. We could have easily flown to Palau, but the pace of our ship on a languid Pacific Ocean seemed far more appropriate, and time measured as a function of distance only heightened the sense of arrival at each destination. This was a cruise, after all, in every sense of the word. 

Two days and nights at sea behind us, we disembarked at the port of Koror, on the most populous island (also named Koror) in the nation of Palau. Yet to call any part of Palau “populous” is perhaps stretching the point. While geographically in Micronesia, Palau is an independent country, with its scatter of approximately 340 islands supporting a total population of less than 20,000 people. Not quite Vatican City proportions in the small country stakes, but not far from it. 

The nation might be small, but at one of the two excellent museums we visited, I couldn’t help but notice a photograph of Palau’s national capitol, a building that is grossly out of scale for the tiny country it serves. This sprawling Greek revival edifice is not located in Koror, but in the capital ‘city’ of Ngerulmud in the state of Melekeok – population of just 318 at the 2020 census. 

Adorned with an overblown white dome that would look more at home in Washington, DC, the capitol was completed in 2006 and cost more than US$45 million to construct. It was partly funded by a US$20-million-dollar loan from Taiwan. The style of the building, alien to a small Pacific island, was exceedingly strange to me – mad, even – but the Taiwanese connection was no surprise, given the tussle with China for influence in the region. 

Sometime between about 1500 and 1000BCE, ancestors of the present-day Palauans braved the open ocean and embarked on the great Austronesian migration through Southeast Asia and the Pacific, out of the very same island of Taiwan. Ironic, I thought, given the state of 21st-century Pacific realpolitik. 

And out in the forecourt of the Belau National Museum stands a magnificent reconstruction of a bai, a traditional steep-roofed Palauan meeting house, with its gable-ends resplendent in painted decorations of fish and animated figures from Palauan mythology. Why couldn’t Palau’s capitol reflect the rich heritage of an ancient society, I wondered, just as had occurred with Papua New Guinea’s parliament building in Port Moresby? It appeared to me, albeit as a whistlestop casual observer, that Palauan identity had been too easily traded for economic advantage.

Would such a dilution of traditional ties be seen further along our journey? I need not have worried, because extreme physical remoteness was soon to offer a rare glimpse of societies still functioning beyond the tide of modernity. 

From Palau, we headed for the snug little port of Colonia on Yap, a tight cluster of four rugged islands fringed by a reef. We were now in the Federated States of Micronesia, with Yap forming one of four states, along with the more easterly Chuuk, Pohnpei and Kosrae. Yap is famous for its stone money, a unique currency still used in important matters of traditional and ceremonial exchange.

In the village of Gael’ we wandered along an avenue of stone money dating from pre-European times when Yap was the centre of an extensive maritime empire. Carved from coralline limestone, many of these stone discs would have taken several men to lift. Each has its own acknowledged history, handed down orally to succeeding generations of Yapese. The more arduous or dramatic the story of their acquisition, the greater the agreed value of the stones. Remarkably, they were mostly quarried in Palau and transported to Yap on rafts towed behind sailing canoes. Because of their great bulk and weight, the stones are rarely moved, even as ownership changes. 

If I were to try and imagine my idea of a Pacific paradise, I think many of the atolls in the Carolines would readily fit that vision. Ifalik and Lamotrek, visited on successive days of our cruise, were postcard-perfect examples. Each was necklaced by a reef and sported countless coconut palms, luxuriant breadfruit trees and white coral sands, with jewel-like lagoons of pale jade and aquamarine.

Both support small populations of several hundred people, ranging from infants through to the elderly. The saying that it takes a village to raise a child could readily apply to these communities. Everyone appeared happy and healthy, their isolation in many ways a saving grace – or so it appeared to the casual observer. 

Ifalik lies 700km south-east of Yap, and Lamotrek roughly a further 200km on. Each atoll, and others in the Carolines, is served by small supply ships that arrive perhaps three or four times a year. And in the case of Ifalik, a tourist vessel such as the Coral Adventurer had not been seen in 12 years! 

We’d become used to warm greetings in the Philippines, but somehow the humility and unaffected charm of the people of both Ifalek and Lamotrek left a far deeper impression. On the beach they decked us with floral leis, and after a welcome from the village chief, we were treated to dance performances. Women, men and children – aged from four or five years and up – formed long and rhythmic lines as they chanted, swayed, clapped, and slapped their bodies in unison. Their skin glowed from liberal dustings of turmeric, and each dancer was adorned with woven palm necklaces, headdresses, anklets and lava-lavas from head to toe. There was not a ghetto-blaster to be heard. 

Outboard fuel is a scarce and expensive commodity on these islands, so much of the fish catch is obtained from outrigger canoes. Not only were we taken on a sailing excursion on the Lamotrek lagoon, but we were also able to watch a sure-eyed villager equipped with just an adze shaping the hull of a canoe from the single trunk of a breadfruit tree. 

Traditional medicine, food preparation and weaving displays were all on our program at these enchanted islands. In addition, we were honoured with a demonstration of celestial navigation by one of Lamotrek’s elders. Seated on the ground, one betel nut–chewing old man explained the mysteries of his venerable craft with the aid of what looked like a makeshift compass rose assembled from sticks and small lumps of coral. But his was no compass rose. This was so much more. In the simplest of terms, it was emblematic of his and his ancestors’ intimate knowledge of the stars, of the waves and tides, of the flight of birds, and the nature of clouds. It was his mind map of the seas and the firmament above. The Micronesians are fabled as the greatest of all traditional navigators. From Taiwan in ancient times, to Lamotrek in the 21st century, thousands of years of practical wisdom briefly lay at our feet. 

The jewels of Ifalik and Lamotrek were followed by a day in Chuuk (formerly Truk) Lagoon, a site known the world over as the graveyard of dozens of Japanese ships and aircraft from World War II. The scuba divers in our party reported some spectacular underwater adventures from the day at Chuuk before it was time to move further eastwards to Pohnpei and the ruins of Nan Madol.

I don’t think anyone travelling on our ship was prepared for what we were privileged to see at this UNESCO World Heritage site. Beginning in the eighth or ninth centuries, 96 islets were constructed on the south-eastern edge of Temwen Island, Pohnpei’s close neighbour. Great slabs of columnar basalt, some more than 6m long and weighing several tonnes, were quarried on the other side of Pohnpei and somehow shipped to Nan Madol, where defensive walls, temples, tombs and living quarters were constructed, all connected by a network of tidal canals. The regular hexagonal profile of the basalt slabs made them ideally stable in dry-stone wall construction, and many of the walls are still standing despite the ravages of time, water, climate and the roots of determined figs and breadfruit trees. Again, I couldn’t help thinking of the capitol in Palau, and how it might look in 12 centuries time. Not nearly as well as Nan Madol, I suspect. 

Our voyage through the Philippines and Micronesia ended with a couple of days at sea before reaching Kavieng in New Ireland, Papua New Guinea. We’d travelled for 26 days, crossed thousands of kilometres of ocean, and had peered back in time to the ancient Pacific and its mysteries. 

Best of all, we’d gained a rare glimpse of islanders living in a manner not too far removed from that of their distant ancestors, when to follow the stars and find a new home really was like interplanetary travel.

Alasdair McGregor travelled on this voyage as the Australian Geographic Society’s Host, in partnership with Coral Expeditions. All images supplied by Coral Expeditions.

The post An unexpected Pacific paradise appeared first on Australian Geographic.

The journey of more than 1200 nautical miles was marked by unpredictable winds, lightning storms, squalls of more than 30 knots and long hours of calm. There was a dramatic knockdown and close encounters with other vessels.

“On this trip the weather and seas threw every element at me, and because it was a short window I have hardly slept and really pushed my settings the whole way,” says Lisa. “The boat has performed superbly but I’m pretty exhausted.”

Lisa’s campaign is to “Cross the Ditch for Climate Action Now.” She’s raising awareness of ocean pollution and advocating for everyone to make a change for the health of the ocean.

She began the campaign during her most recent round-the-world voyage which she completed on 25 May 2022 when she became the fastest person to sail solo, non-stop and unassisted around Antarctica. Lisa seized the opportunity to amplify her message of climate action now (the name of her yacht) by collaborating with the Australian Bureau of Meteorology, Institute of Marine Science and Seabed 2030 to gather weather data and collect water samples for evidence of microplastics and to monitor general ocean health.

Society-sponsored Lisa hopes to raise awareness of ocean threats as she heads off on her next voyage. In the coming days, she will embark on a new campaign; a voyage from Auckland to Auckland right around the coastline of New Zealand. She hopes to become the first person to complete the trip, solo, non-stop and unassisted, a journey she anticipates will take 15 to 18 days to complete.

Following the New Zealand projects, Lisa has plans for an Arctic world record. A feature film about her Antarctic voyage, Ice Maiden, will have its world premiere at the Dock Edge Film Festival in New Zealand in June 2024.

You can follow Lisa’s progress on her live tracker.

Setting the record

• 2017 – First woman to sail solo around Antarctica with one stop, below 45 South
• 2017 – Australian Geographic Spirit of Adventure awardee
• 2017 – Seamanship Award
• 2018 – 2x World Records while sailing solo, non-stop and unassisted around Australia
• 2022 – 2x World Records while sailing solo, non-stop and unassisted around Antarctica
• 2022 – Australian Geographic Adventurer of the Year

Related: World beater: Aussie solo sailor Lisa Blair shares her story

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The four categories are listed below, and we invite you to submit your nominations here. Nominations close on 30 June.

We have also replaced the annual awards gala dinner in Sydney with smaller speaker events, like our Awards Roadshow events held in February this year. These events will take place around the country at selected venues that give our readers the chance to hear from our winners in a more intimate and interactive setting. 

Categories

Young Adventurer of the Year

Awarded to a person usually under the age of 30, this award usually reflects a particular expedition or adventure during the last 24 months.

Spirit of Adventure

This is awarded to those whose efforts reflect strength, determination and the ability to overcome obstacles to attain their goals and achieve great things. It also acknowledges that sometimes it takes more than one attempt to achieve those goals. There is no age limit. It usually reflects an achievement or attempt during the last 24 months. It’s possible for there to be more than one winner in any given year.

Adventurer of the Year

This award has been won by Australia’s most celebrated explorers and adventurers such as Lisa Blair, Tim Jarvis AM and aviator Michael Smith who, at time of press, is undertaking another epic flight. It usually reflects a particularly notable achievement in the last 24 months. There are no age limits.

Lifetime of Adventure Award

This is the Society’s highest honour and recognises those special Australians who haven’t just lived an adventurous life, but who have also given back to Australia and inspired others by their leadership and example. Past recipients include mountaineer Greg Mortimer OAM, Dick Smith AC, and even Apollo 11 astronaut Buzz Aldrin who received an honorary award in 2010 when he attended the awards event. There are no age limits, but it’s customary for the Lifetime of Adventure medallion to be given to an older Australian.

Nominations are open now, closing June 30, via this nomination form.

The post Australian Geographic Adventurer of the Year Awards 2024: Nominations now open! appeared first on Australian Geographic.

The greater bilby is the largest member of the bandicoot family. It shares the same short forelimbs and powerful hind legs as bandicoots. But it has some distinctive differences, such as those large, translucent pink ears and a spectacular long tail with a thick band of black-coloured fur along half its length and a pure white feathery end with a mysterious horny spur. At the time of European settlement, the two species of bilby were found across 70 per cent of the mainland and believed to number in the millions. Now, the lesser bilby is extinct, and the greater bilby is found in just 20 per cent of its former range with less than 10,000 estimated to be remaining in the wild. The greater bilby is now classified as vulnerable nationally, but is locally extinct in NSW.

Conservation efforts have focused on creating feral-free sanctuaries. Among the first of these was AWC’s Yookamurra Wildlife Sanctuary in SA. This 1000ha enclosure was originally established in 1988 by AGS Lifetime of Conservation awardee John Wamsley OAM. This brilliant mathematician and fearless advocate for native animals developed a fencing system that protected smaller animals, such as bilbies and numbats, by keeping out ferals while allowing the passage of larger native species.

Today, Yookamurra is one of more than 30 sanctuaries and partnership sites where AWC works. John’s revolutionary fence technology has evolved too, allowing the establishment of vast, fenced, predator-free zones across the continent. Currently about 10 per cent of the surviving bilby population is protected within an AWC facility. These sanctuaries – Yookamurra (SA), Scotia (New South Wales), Mt Gibson (Western Australia) and Newhaven (NT), as well as two NSW government partnership projects, in the Pilliga and Mallee Cliffs National Park, all occur where bilbies once thrived but have become locally extinct.

Bilbies are “ecosystem engineers”. “It’s a phrase we use to describe a species that changes the environment it’s in, just by the fact it’s there,” explains Alexandra Ross, AWC Acting Regional Ecologist working at Yookamurra. “The bilby digs holes to live in, but also to find seeds, roots and other foods. These holes collect other things like leaves and debris and bits of seeds. And when rain falls into these holes, it turns them into mulch pots, much like you’d make if you were going to plant something at home.”

Bilbies are known to each move several tonnes of topsoil a year, and they play a critical role in desert ecosystems. The differences between bilby habitat within sanctuary fence lines and beyond them can be dramatic, and those differences explain why it’s vital to reintroduce bilbies to places they occurred naturally. So many other species – both flora and fauna – benefit from their presence.

Maintaining genetic diversity among populations of any species living within enclosures is a grand logistical challenge and animals are carefully selected by AWC staff to create founding populations in new sanctuaries. In 2022, 32 bilby “founders” were introduced to the organisation’s Newhaven Wildlife Sanctuary near Alice Springs, NT. A 9450ha portion of this 2615sq.km former cattle property – located on the traditional lands of the Ngalia-Warlpiri/Luritja people – was declared predator-free in 2019, marking the start of one of Australia’s most ambitious rewilding projects. The 32 founders came from Taronga Western Plains Zoo in Dubbo, NSW, and another 34 came from the Queensland government’s sanctuary at Currawinya National Park, which was built with funds raised by the national Save the Bilby Fund. Within a year, evidence of juvenile bilbies was detected in Newhaven, while across all AWC properties the overall estimated bilby population in March 2023 was at least 3315, more than double the 2022 estimate of 1480, and almost triple the 2021 figure of 1230. Bilbies are prolific breeders, and if conditions are right and predators controlled, they can bounce back quickly.

It’s good news for this engaging and iconic creature, and for a whole raft of other embattled species whose survival is inextricably linked to that of the greater bilby. It takes breathtaking courage, ambition and lots of money to tackle Australia’s crashing biodiversity on such a towering scale. But if you can bring just one species back from the brink, it might just bring a whole raft of creatures back with it.

Related: Help bilbies to bounce back

The post Rescuing an emblem appeared first on Australian Geographic.

Please help us to help them by donating to our bilby fundraiser today. Your money will go towards the national conservation program run by Australian Wildlife Conservancy (AWC), which is already delivering encouraging results.

This fundraiser kicks off Australian Geographic Society’s rebranded public fundraising campaigns, Australia’s Most Endangered, created in line with our commitment to seek greater impact on nature’s most urgent concerns.

AWC will use the money to fund breeding programs aimed at improving genetic diversity, to build and maintain fenced sanctuaries and for feral-pest and fire-management strategies to restore the ecosystems that bilbies need for survival.

It’s an expensive business to bring a species back from the brink of extinction, and every dollar you give counts.

Please make a tax deductible donation today. Donate here.

Related: Rescuing an emblem

The post Help bilbies to bounce back appeared first on Australian Geographic.

Each partner will become the beneficiary of all funds contributed through this program for a period of one year. In this way we hope to create real impact and measurable conservation outcomes for the vital funds that you – our readers and supporters – so generously donate to us. All of these drives will highlight the plight of a new species with every new edition of your AUSTRALIAN GEOGRAPHIC magazine.

Our first partner is Australian Wildlife Conservancy (AWC), a national operation that’s a global leader in conservation with its science-informed land-management partnership model. Through a large and growing network of sanctuaries located across the continent, AWC aims to protect species and the ecosystems they depend on. The organisation engages in fire management, feral-animal control, weed eradication and translocations of threatened species into fenced, feral-free sanctuaries.

AWC doesn’t just seek to protect existing biodiversity, but to improve it, and has grown to become Australia’s largest non-government conservation organisation. During the coming year, the AGS will identify six native species on which to focus our fundraising activities and direct those funds towards AWC’s conservation efforts.

Because we are close to Easter, we kick off the new program with the gorgeous greater bilby.

We’re grateful for your ongoing generous support of our fundraisers, and will continue to ensure the money is used to the greatest effect to help our precious wildlife.

Related: Rescuing an emblem

The post ‘Australia’s Most Endangered’: Introducing Australian Geographic Society’s new fundraisers appeared first on Australian Geographic.

RELATED ARTICLE: ‘Naked rower’ Tom Robinson speaks about 14-hour ordeal stranded at sea

Dr Richard Barnes became the first person to kayak solo, unassisted and non-stop across the Tasman Sea in February 2023. He spent 67 days alone in his modified kayak, Blue Moon, paddling for up to 10 hours a day. Richard is also the 2023 recipient of Australian Geographic Society’s ‘Adventurer of the Year’ accolade.

RELATED ARTICLE: Meet the 2023 Australian Geographic Society Award winners

“This was our first awards roadshow since COVID and we were delighted with the turnout; a full house,” said Chrissie.

“This kind of event format allows inspiring individuals like Richard and Tom to tell their full stories, much to the delight of the audience. We plan to run similar events regularly around the country from now on.”

Solo across the Pacific was one of a series of live events being held around the country, featuring some of Australia’s most courageous and lauded adventurers. Hear their incredible stories firsthand and enjoy a chance to meet them and ask questions afterwards. All proceeds go to the Australian Geographic Society and its support of conservation, exploration and adventure.

The post Australian Geographic Society Roadshow: Solo across the Pacific appeared first on Australian Geographic.

Through this program, we aim to support conservation leaders working across Australia. We will offer tiered, continuing, financial and practical assistance to courageous changemakers spearheading scientifically informed local solutions to the biodiversity, pollution and climate crises.

In 2024, year one of the program, we will be awarding one grant in each of the three categories: $20,000, $30,000 and $50,000. In subsequent years, we will award two in each category, and from year three, we will add continuation funding to projects that show growth.

First round applications for this inaugural year (expressions of interest stage) open 7 February 2024 and close 28 March 2024.

Funding through this program will be awarded to organised projects tackling major and urgent environmental issues

• Biodiversity loss
• Feral and invasive species of plants and animals
• Habitat loss and degradation
• Nature-based climate change mitigation
• Natural disasters resulting from climate change
• Pollution both marine and terrestrial

Types of projects likely to succeed

• Citizen science projects linked to practical conservation outcomes
• Fenced sanctuaries
• Rewilding programs
• Translocation programs
• Marine conservation
• Nature-based climate change impact adaption and mitigation
• Pollution mitigation
• Wildlife corridors
• Habitat restoration
• Applied scientific research with tangible projects
• Insurance population building

More than money

In addition to funding, the Society identifies capacity building opportunities, creates media assets and offers PR and media training to our awardees if applicable. 

From 2026, past awardees will be eligible to apply for continuation funds from the Society. The winners of follow-up funding will be announced along with that year’s Australian Geographic Awards for Nature.  

Public event

The winners of the Australian Geographic Awards for Nature are announced at a public ceremony which takes place in October/November each year. Details will be announced later in the year.  

When do applications open? 

Expressions of interest (EOI) will be invited from 7 February 2024 until 28 March 2024. This will take the form of an A4 sheet of paper with a summary description of your project.  

Once these EOI’s have been reviewed, potential awardees will be invited to apply for the awards during April 2024. 

How can I apply? 

Please check the eligibility criteria below and, if you think your project qualifies, email the administrator of the Australian Geographic Society for an information pack at society@ausgeo.com.au 

How long does it take to apply? 

The EOI should fit on one A4 sheet of paper. This shouldn’t take very long to complete. If you are invited to the next stage to submit a full application for the Australian Geographic Awards for Nature grants, the process will be online and will require more detailed information including plans and budgets. 

Can I see examples of successful projects? 

As this is a new program, we don’t have examples yet. 

Who will review my application? 

The Australian Geographic Society appoints an expert review panel each year. It is made up of environmental scientists and conservation experts alongside key personnel from Australian Geographic and office bearers of the Australian Geographic Society. 

Can I request an explanation of the result? 

Due to limited resources within the AG Society, it will not be possible to engage directly with the staff or review panel during the EOI review phase or request individual feedback on unsuccessful applications. 

What happens if I am successful? 

There will be strict milestone reporting requirements to fulfil as a condition of the funds. It is vital to demonstrate the impact of our funding well into the future. 

We will visit your project to create the story and media assets as described above. We will invite you and your team to attend the award ceremony. During your visit, there will be media coverage of the awards, and we hope that you will be available for any media opportunities that arise in connection with the prize both at the time of the announcements and at any time in the future. 

Eligibility criteria

• Located in Australia or on an Australian o/s territory (Macquarie Isand, Antarctica, Christmas Island, Cocos Keeling Island etc.)
• Operating at a grass roots, hands on level
• Run by passionate dedicated people who will be able to inspire others and who can communicate their projects in an articulate and effective way that helps others to become engaged and involved. As such, we are looking to award individuals who are leading a team and prefer a face or identity for the project
• Informed by the latest scientific research
• Uses evidence-based methods and with existing indications of success
• Demonstrates community stakeholder involvement and/or engagement including with First Nations stakeholders
• Projects with scalability
• Clear and measurable outcomes; reporting requirements will be part of the award
• Sustainable projects with longevity; we will be looking to track progress and impact well into the future
• Proven ability to manage funding

What won’t be considered

• Pure academic research; we will consider applied research with conservation outcomes
• PhD student fieldwork
• Captive breeding programs for commercial zoos (this doesn’t include captive breeding for establishing a conservation program or to supplement a wild or captive existing population or for re-establishing a population that is extinct in the wild)
• Campaigns, legal/media costs and protests
• Films, documentaries and media projects
• Events and conferences
• Public education programs that don’t include a hands-on community conservation project

The post Introducing the Australian Geographic Awards for Nature appeared first on Australian Geographic.

SYDNEY *sold out*

Solo Across the Pacific – Dr Richard Barnes, the first person to kayak solo, unassisted and non-stop across the Tasman Sea, and the “naked rower”, Tom Robinson, live on stage.

Tuesday 6 February

Click here for more details and tickets

Missed this event? Watch our recording of the evening.

LAUNCESTON, TAS

Achieving the Almost-Impossible – 2023 Young Adventurer of the Year Lewi Taylor and 2018 Spirit of Adventure winner Paul Pritchard, live on stage.

Thursday 22 February

Click here for more details and tickets

MELBOURNE

Pushing the Boundaries – world-record holding extreme sport athletes Heather Swan and Glenn Singleman and ultra-endurance cyclist Dr Kate Leeming OAM, live on stage.

Wednesday 28 February

Click here for more details and tickets

Related: Meet the 2023 Australian Geographic Society Award winners

The post Australian Geographic Society Awards Roadshow appeared first on Australian Geographic.

The Australian Geographic Society is supporting a project, being run by not-for-profit group Conservation Partners at Artemis station on the Cape York Peninsula, to protect 20 nests from predators during the May–July breeding season.

Your donations will be used to buy, install and maintain small electric fences around the bases of termite mounds where the parrots nest.

Monitoring in 2022 showed that nestlings in unprotected nests were killed by predators, while chicks in nests protected with the fences survived.

Because the parrots lay five eggs per nest, protecting 20 nests could more than double the golden-shouldered parrot population on Artemis station, where only 50–70 parrots remain. 

Please make a tax deductible donation today. Donate here.

The post Protect golden-shouldered parrot chicks appeared first on Australian Geographic.

By creating a wildlife corridor across NSW’s Northern Rivers region, Bangalow Koalas is connecting vital koala habitat, allowing koalas to move safely as they feed, reducing the main risks of disease, dog attack and vehicle strike. It’s also about planting hope – for koalas, for the planet and, in the face of climate change, for the mental health and wellbeing of our younger generations.

To reach the 500,000 target, there are still 162,000 ‘hope trees’ to plant, and Bangalow Koalas needs help to do it. That’s why the Australian Geographic Society has selected the organisation’s trees-for-hope quest as its latest fundraising recipient. 

All funds raised will be used to prepare, plant and maintain trees over the next three years in strategic locations as part of this essential wildlife corridor. Let’s support change for koalas and help Bangalow Koalas reach its target.

Please make a tax deductible donation today. Donate here.

The post Seedlings of hope: help us plant trees for koalas appeared first on Australian Geographic.

Lifetime of Adventure
Sponsored by Coral Expeditions

Glenn Singleman and Heather Swan

Heather Swan’s journey into extreme sport was taken one step at a time. “As you grow your ability and your sense of self-efficacy, the answer to ‘What would you do if you weren’t afraid?’ becomes, ‘I’d like to climb up the highest cliff in the world and jump off it in a wingsuit!’” she says. 

Heather and her husband, Dr Glenn Singleman, are world record–holding extreme-sport athletes and two-time recipients of the Australian Geographic Spirit of Adventure medal. They’re best known for their gravity-defying stunts as wingsuit pilots. Glenn is an award-winning documentary filmmaker and physician specialising in remote, rural and expedition medicine. Heather is an inspirational speaker, farmer, photographer and author. 

Together, they use their skills to champion wilderness; advocate the emotional, spiritual and physical benefits of adventuring; and inspire audiences to face their fears. 

Glenn was introduced to the world of adventure by a medical colleague, who invited him on a canyoning trip in the Blue Mountains. It sparked a revelation into the ways fear was limiting his life. “I started a very deliberate exploration of how to overcome those fears and discover what’s possible for me,” he says, describing his progression from canyoning to rock climbing, mountaineering, sky diving and BASE jumping. Wanting to explore his newfound passion for adventure in a professional way – and be paid for it – Glenn returned to university and completed a filmmaking degree. In 1988 he joined the Australian Bicentennial Antarctic Expedition and filmed his first documentary, The Loneliest Mountain. Three years later, he was hired as a cameraman and expedition doctor for the first hot-air balloon flight over Mt Everest. One of his most successful documentaries was BASEclimb (1993), an autobiographical film that followed his journey from rock climber to BASE jumper. The film won 21 international awards and documented the Great Trango Towers BASE jump by Glenn and Nic Feteris, which established the world record for exit height (5880m) that stood for more than a decade.

Glenn met Heather at one of his corporate presentations. At the time, she was a corporate executive with no experience in adventure, let alone extreme sports. But Glenn’s presentation – “What would you do if fear wasn’t a factor?” – struck a chord with her. Taking his message to heart, she nervously asked him out for a coffee. A few years later, they married, and Heather began her journey to achieve her first world record as a BASE jumper and wingsuit pilot.

Glenn and Heather began flying wingsuits together in 2004. Immediately, they were hooked. “The wingsuit is the purest freedom you can have in a sport,” Heather says. “You’re just flying; you curl your wrist and you bank and you dive, you fly around clouds, moving really fast and immersed in the landscape. It’s magical…Everyone dreams, ‘I wish I could fly’. Well, you can – in a wingsuit.” In 2006 Glenn and Heather claimed the record for the world’s highest wingsuit BASE jump, from a 6604m ledge on Mt Meru in the Garhwal Himalaya in India (see Born to Fly, AG 84). They spent 22 days climbing steep blue ice to reach the summit. According to Heather, the journey was crucial to the experience. “I never really understood skydiving because it’s just falling with style,” she says. “Whereas hiking or climbing to the top of a beautiful cliff and spending time in that environment, contemplating the view, immersing yourself [in nature] and then putting on your wingsuit and stepping off – that is sublime, surreal…transformative.”

In 2009 Glenn and Heather travelled to Curtin Springs in the Northern Territory and attempted to break the records for wingsuit flying (see High Adventure, AG 93). But seconds before jumping, Glenn lost consciousness and fell from the balloon’s platform at a height of nearly 37,000ft. Despite this, the expedition set three new records: Australia’s highest balloon flight (37,838ft), the highest skydive in Australia, and the highest wingsuit exit in the world (36,750ft). In 2011 and 2015, they made the first (and only) wingsuit flights across Sydney Harbour and Brisbane respectively, and in 2018, Heather became the first woman to fly wingsuit over Antarctica. In April 2015 Glenn and Heather made international headlines for completing the first wingsuit crossing of the Grand Canyon (see Crossing the Canyon, AG 127), alongside Roger Hugelshofer, Vicente Cajiga and cameraman Paul Tozer. The wingsuit pilots flew for seven minutes, passing over the deepest part of the canyon – from the North Rim to the South Rim – at 160km/h. 

The duo maintain there’s more to extreme sport than chasing thrills. “I find that extreme sport is another way to get into an altered state of consciousness,” Glenn says. “The combination of being somewhere sublime and doing an activity that requires attention, focus, commitment, all those things that come together to describe a peak experience state.” 

In psychology, ‘peak experience’ is the feeling of euphoria attained when a person becomes totally absorbed in a task or activity, providing them with inexhaustible energy and passion and making them lose their sense of time and space. It’s a profound, mystical state that makes one feel simultaneously powerful and connected to the environment. 

Heather says the sport has boosted her emotional intelligence by teaching her how to think more productively and curb unhelpful thoughts that might spiral into anxiety or depression. “Thinking in a way that enhances your health and happiness rather than denigrates it is a very powerful skill, and that can come out of adventures in the wilderness and…progressively growing your comfort zone in a constructive way,” she says. 

Extreme sports have an important place in this era of climate change. When discussing CO₂ emissions and air pollution, Glenn reflects, “Most people look outside and think air is just the stuff we breathe…whereas for us it’s the stuff we surf, we ride, we glide…we’ve experienced the grandeur of the atmosphere.” The adventures pursued by Glenn and Heather have given them a profound appreciation for nature that has filtered into their everyday life. Today, Glenn shares his passion for adventure with students at the University of Tasmania’s Extreme Sports Medicine program. Heather runs retreats teaching women life skills focused on overcoming limiting fear. 

Young Adventurer of the Year
Sponsored by Mountain Designs

Lewi Taylor

Most people aspire to having a few drinks with friends and family on their birthday. On 10 June 2022, the day Lewi Taylor celebrated his 30th birthday, he summited kunanyi / Mt Wellington (1271m). It was the last peak in his quest to conquer the Abels.

Named after Abel Tasman, these 158 mountains have an elevation of 1100m or greater, with a minimum drop of 150m on all sides. The Abels are scattered throughout Tasmania, making it the only Australian state with a ‘peak bagging’ list. At the beginning of the pandemic, Lewi was solo backpacking through Europe and Central America, coming home just before Tasmania closed its borders due to COVID. The young adventurer returned with a strong desire to explore his home state, and he became intrigued by the Abels. 

The Abels peak bagging challenge appealed to Lewi’s competitive nature, sports background, and passion for the outdoors. A throwaway comment to a mate – “What if you could climb all 158 Abels, one per day?” – planted the seed of an idea. According to all bushwalking blogs and advice, it wasn’t possible, but Lewi wanted to give it a go. 

“I was half-blessed in the sense that I didn’t have a lot of hiking experience,” Lewi says, admitting his first-ever solo, multi-day hike was during the challenge. “I had the naivety and the sporting mindset where anything is possible. If I had more experience or knew more bushwalkers, the thought that this wasn’t possible could’ve begun creeping in.” During the next 18 months, Lewi became absorbed in the project, poring over the literature and meticulously planning his adventure. He began sequencing the Abels into groups, trawling through blogs, forums, archives and books to map out potential hiking routes. 

His expedition took on new meaning after his mother was diagnosed with breast cancer for a second time. Now he had a new goal: to raise $158,000 for Cancer Council Tasmania by climbing 158 Abels in 158 days. Six months before embarking on his “158 Challenge”, Lewi launched the fundraiser and rolled out his social media campaigns. At the same time, he was completing his second master’s degree and building a camper trailer for his home base. 

Lewi began his “158 Challenge” on 4 January 2022 by climbing three Abels – Collins Bonnet (1261m), Mt Marian (1144m) and Trestle Mountain (1164m) – in less than 9 hours. By the end of the month, he’d bagged 27 peaks. He posted daily updates to his social media, detailing the highs and lows of each day, from the beautiful scenery and people he met along the way, to the challenge’s toll on his joints and muscles. Lewi sometimes invited friends to join him, but he estimates that 85 per cent of his hikes were completed solo. He also had rest days scheduled throughout the challenge, when he returned to Hobart to recharge and buy new food and supplies. Lewi says these were crucial for his longevity, allowing him to recuperate, mentally refresh, and reconnect with family and friends. 

Some Abels could be bagged on a day hike, which ranged from two to 10 hours. After summiting the peaks, Lewi returned to his self-built cubby camper to rest. Others were only accessible on a multi-day hikes – sometimes up to 10 days of off-track hiking through Tasmania’s dense wilderness. These proved to be some of the most physically and mentally demanding moments of the challenge. “Walking for up to 15 hours a day, you have a long time to think and reflect on anything that’s going on,” says Lewi. “That either reflects or amplifies; nice, happy thoughts become a very dreamy sort of experience, but negative thoughts or anything unresolved back home and you have 15 hours a day to mull over the negative.”

There were moments when things looked impossible. But Lewi says the Cancer Council fundraiser added a new level of accountability that forced him to keep pushing himself. “The main lesson I got out of the whole experience was…[what] a person is capable of mentally,” he says. “I had never experienced that level of wilderness. Going into it with an open mind and persevering through hard times – it all comes down to resilience.” 

Alongside successfully climbing all 158 Abels in 158 days, Lewi’s fundraiser had surpassed his goal, raising nearly $170,000 for Cancer Council Tasmania. The funds will contribute towards cancer prevention education, support services and research. In recognition of his achievement, Lewi was nominated as Tasmania’s Young Australian of the Year in 2023. 

Spirit of Adventure

Kate Leeming

Dr Kate Leeming OAM doesn’t do things by halves. To prepare for a cycling assault on Antarctica, she completed a string of expeditions covering every continent, and including journeys to north-east Greenland, Iceland, Mexico’s Baja Divide, the Indian Himalayas, the Andes, Namibia’s entire desert coastline, Antarctica’s Queen Maud Land and Australia’s Finke River.

An ultra-endurance cyclist, Kate continually pushes the boundaries of what’s possible. Since 1990 she’s cycled 96,500km – more than twice the world’s circumference – across 42 countries, with each expedition proving more demanding than the last. She’s arguably best known for her 2010 Breaking the Cycle in Africa expedition, a 22,000km odyssey through 20 countries from west to east, from Senegal’s Pointe des Almadies to Cape Hafun in Somalia.

Kate was introduced to bicycle touring on a trip to Ireland in 1990 and by 1992 had cycled 15,000km across Europe. “I really loved the idea of how connected I was to the people and the land,” she says. “There was a much deeper connection with where I was going, and it produced a very realistic perspective about how the world fits together. That’s the intrinsic reason about why I love to travel this way, and it grew from there.” 

In 1993 Kate became the first woman in history to cycle unsupported across what was then known as New Russia, a 13,400km journey from Saint Petersburg to Vladivostok. The five-month expedition raised money for children impacted by the 1986 Chernobyl disaster. In 2004–05, she embarked on her UNESCO-backed Great Australian Cycle Expedition, a circuitous 25,000km route that began and ended outside Canberra’s Parliament House. During her nine-month, unsupported journey through Australia, Kate also became the first woman to cycle the Canning Stock Route, an 1850km track across the Gibson, Great Sandy and Tanami deserts. “These expeditions sharpen me up…and change me in so many ways,” Kate says. “I couldn’t have done one expedition without doing the ones that came before.” 

In 2019 she became the first person to cycle Namibia’s 1621km coastline, known as the Skeleton Coast. During the pandemic, Kate’s attention returned to Australia. It was then that she resumed her “Breaking the Cycle Across Australia” expedition, delayed by a broken collarbone and COVID. The adventure involved an 8617km journey across Australia’s interior from Cape Byron, NSW, to Steep Point, WA. 

Kate has long had her sights set on that Antarctic expedition. Since 2018, she’s been training for the world’s first bicycle crossing of the continent, via the South Pole. The 3000km supported journey will take an estimated 70 days on her custom-built Christini fat bike. “Antarctica has been ready for a while, but it’s a matter of finding funds,” Kate says. 

She was awarded a Medal of the Order of Australia (OAM) in 2023 for services to adventure sport. As well as being a motivational speaker and a real tennis champion, she’s the founder of the Breaking the Cycle Foundation, supporting the grassroots organisations she encountered on her travels and the next generation of young leaders. 

Adventurer of the Year

Richard Barnes

You know a person is determined if it takes nothing less than a cyclone to stop them achieving a goal. On 18 February 2023, Dr Richard Barnes paddled into shore at Riverton, on New Zealand’s South Island, after Cyclone Seth forced him to abort an earlier attempt in 2021. It was the end of a 1676km journey across the Tasman Sea – making Richard the first person in history to kayak solo, non-stop and unassisted from Australia to New Zealand.

Richard’s trans-Tasman adventure was close to 10 years in the making. The seasoned kayaker has racked up an impressive resumé of long-distance expeditions and marathons across six continents. With several crossings of Bass Strait securely under his belt, the Tasman Sea beckoned as the next challenge.

Undeterred by the earlier cyclonic delay, Richard departed from Short Beach in Hobart on 14 December 2022 onboard his self-built kayak, Blue Moon. 

The kayak was divided into seven compartments: the cockpit for paddling; two each end for food storage; vestibule for wet clothes, desalinating water and eating; and the citadel for sleeping and protected storage. Blue Moon weighed 700kg at the start of her voyage but shed about 20kg each week. Inside, Richard had stockpiled 100 days of food, such as tinned meat and dehydrated meals, powdered milk, biltong, nuts and his cherished Weetbix, Arnott’s biscuits and Coca Cola. 

During the next 67 days, Richard’s sole human contact was through satellite email. He had never experienced such extreme isolation, a challenge both daunting and exciting. The isolation, surprisingly, turned out to be a positive experience overall.

“I certainly learnt that it’s not scary to be alone,” Richard says. “It wasn’t ever; it was just beautiful, peaceful, and wondrous to have the chance to experience and see everything.” 

Richard paddled up to 10 hours a day, keeping his mind occupied by memorising laminated poems – Banjo Paterson’s The Man from Snowy River taking him 42 days – and chewing over cryptic crossword clues, trivia questions and word games. He published a blog detailing the daily minutiae of his expedition, from playful interactions with sooty albatrosses and pods of dolphins, to tedious chores such as scraping barnacles off Blue Moon’s hull.  

But the journey was not all smooth sailing, and on day 35 came Richard’s greatest test of resilience. In the early hours of the morning, a freak wave capsized his kayak, which then self-righted. Richard discovered Blue Moon’s sea anchor had disappeared, and the rudder steering system was broken. 

“Those three things combined were tough,” Richard admits. But his adventuring experience and engineering background gave him a positive outlook. “Think about what went wrong, find answers, solve the problem and press on,” he says. 

Now, having claimed a new world record, Richard encourages people to pursue their goals, no matter how big or ambitious. “People should take on their own adventures, at whatever level,” he says. “The rewards are just so great.”

Lifetime of Conservation

Brigitte Stevens

In 2006 an orphaned wombat joey called Barney came into Brigitte Stevens’s care, and changed both their lives. 

Brigitte, founding director of the Wombat Awareness Organisation, decided to dedicate her life to southern hairy-nosed wombats. Since 2006 she’s rescued and rehabilitated more than 10,000 wombats and successfully advocated for stronger legislative protections for the marsupials. Her sanctuary for injured, orphaned and misplaced wombats is the largest of its kind in the world. 

Brigitte began her career in 1998 at Queensland Reptile and Fauna Park (now Australia Zoo), working under Steve Irwin and specialising in native mammals. During the next several years, she worked in various supervisory and curatorial roles in wildlife parks and zoos across Queensland. “I had always worked with wombats but hadn’t yet experienced having a bond with them,” she admits. “I didn’t realise what incredible animals they are.” 

Barney had several health problems. Moving to South Australia offered his best chance of survival, so Brigitte sold everything and moved interstate to begin a new life on wombat country. She soon discovered that southern hairy-nosed wombats across SA were suffering from habitat loss, malnutrition, mange, human-inflicted cruelty and more. Landholders and local councils were culling wombats without following the humane code of practice – including destroying burrows and intentionally burying wombats alive. In 2007 she began collecting footage of this and making reports to the RSPCA and state government. Three years later, she created the Wombat Mitigation Program, enlisting 72 farming properties that routinely culled wombats and offering free advice about non-lethal alternatives, but to little avail. In 2012 she met with Tammy Franks, Greens MLC of SA, and they began lobbying for wombat burrows to be protected by law. Their breakthrough came a decade later, when a farmer admitted on camera to burying wombats alive on his property. Tammy instigated a new Bill in Parliament – declaring it illegal to bury wombats alive in their burrows in SA – that passed in both the Upper and Lower Houses and became law in June 2023. 

Brigitte lives on-site at her sanctuary, alongside wildlife biologist Clare Jans. The 20ha property is a refuge for roughly 100 wombats that can’t return to the wild, whether from injury, sickness or habitat loss. For Brigitte and Clare, it’s round-the-clock wombat care. As well as being involved in food preparation, administering medicine and property maintenance, they bottle-feed orphans, monitor sick wombats, and respond to calls from their 24/7 statewide wombat rescue service. It’s exhausting, but Brigitte says it brings her “immense joy”. “I was a lost person before I came across wombats,” she says. 

Her animals are treated by a dedicated team of veterinarians and specialists, including cardiothoracic surgeons and pulmonologists. “The knowledge we have gained of wombat illnesses is incredible,” Brigitte says. “We are getting diagnostics not often seen in wildlife in Australia and developing effective treatment plans for these illnesses.” She has also organised sarcoptic mange treatment programs and support-feeds wild populations afflicted with liver and kidney damage after digesting toxic weeds. 

Brigitte now has her sights set on the future. 

“I’ve really got my focus set on creating a sanctuary that will way outlast me,” she says. She feels she is outgrowing her sanctuary, and wants to relocate to a larger site. 

Conservationist of the Year

Karrina Nolan

Original power, headed by executive director Karrina Nolan, has been working to address the lack of clean, affordable power available to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander households. Existing infrastructure regularly leaves many First Nations communities disconnected from energy sources – sometimes for days at a time – with detrimental impacts on people’s health and wellbeing. 

As well as fronting Original Power, Karrina is a member of the First Nations Clean Energy Network steering committee.Both organisations are building the capacity of communities to self-determine what happens on Country by providing them with networks, training, and resources. Karrina is a Yorta Yorta woman who has spent her career organising and managing programs in First Nations communities across Australia. In the past decade, her focus has shifted towards climate change, ensuring that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities have greater energy security, participate in the renewable energy revolution, and equitably benefit from clean energy projects.

Many First Nations communities are situated on the frontlines of fossil fuel projects. Instead of being reactive to developments or proposals, Karrina says Traditional Owners must be included in project planning. “We’ve got a long history of extractive mining being done to our people and communities,” she says. “Both organisations are really committed to making sure our communities can protect Country, sacred sites, water and land.” 

Original Power and the First Nations Clean Energy Network build a community’s ability to challenge or consent to fossil fuel projects, negotiate equitable arrangements for large-scale renewable projects on their lands, or alternatively pursue community-owned clean energy projects. Karrina and her team are working with the federal government to develop the First Nations Clean Energy Strategy. It’s modelled on a Canadian concept, which Karrina says has developed hundreds of First Nations-led clean energy projects and generated $1.5 billion in Indigenous procurement. 

“They’re about a decade ahead of us,” Karrina says. “One of the things the Canadians have done well is get government and industry to work together, incentivising businesses that are doing best practice and making sure there are genuine benefits of engagements and consent.”

By working hand-in-hand with both government and industry, the network aims to develop renewable energy projects on Country. But there’s more work to be done, both on policy reform and forging partnerships between communities and industry. 

Original Power has conducted demonstration projects around Australia – from installing solar panels on rental properties to developing solar microgrids – to ensure that First Nations communities actively participate in the clean energy revolution and benefit from it. As well as slashing energy costs and reducing a community’s reliance on diesel, these demonstration projects have improved energy security. 

There’s a long way to go, but Karrina has a positive outlook for the future. “None of this is an individual effort,” she says. “It’s a collective project that will take all of us.” 

Related: Heroes all: Meet the 2022 Australian Geographic Society Gala Award winners

The post Meet the 2023 Australian Geographic Society Award winners appeared first on Australian Geographic.

“And then just like that, all of a sudden my whole world was turned upside down and I had to hold my breath because the cabin instantly filled,” says Tom, now safely reunited with his family at home in Brisbane.

Tom made what he calls a “fatal” error leaving the hatch open. “If the hatch had been closed, then the boat would’ve self-righted, and it’s often closed when it’s rough. But to me, it didn’t seem at all rough enough to warrant closing the hatch, so I had it open to let air into the cabin.”

Luckily for Tom, it didn’t prove to be a fatal error, but the next 14 hours would see the 24-year-old Australian Geographic Society–sponsored ocean adventurer clinging, naked, cold and wet, to the hull of his little boat, buffeted by wind and smacked by waves until a cruise ship arrived to pluck him to safety the next morning.

“The boat was upside down and the cabin full of water. I had to swim out and climb onto the top of the boat and it was getting dark. I made a few attempts to right the boat, which were unsuccessful, and by that stage, the Epirb emergency system was already going off, so I secured myself with ropes and clung to the hull for the next 14 hours just praying and hoping that help would come,” he says.

Close to midnight Tom heard a plane flying overhead. Despite the darkness, the pilot of the Noumea-based French aircraft spotted Tom standing up on the red and white hull. As dawn broke a second spotter plane flew over, later followed by the arrival of P & O’s Pacific Explorer which took a 180 nautical mile detour to make the dramatic rescue. Tom acknowledges how lucky he was the ship was sailing so close to his position, about 100nm west southwest of Luganville in Vanuatu.

How did suddenly finding himself aboard a grand luxury ship among 2000 guests feel? “Yeah, it was a very big shock, and it was all very surreal. I’d never been on a cruise ship before. Everyone wanted to take pictures with me, and other people wanted to kill me,” he says.

Tom’s expedition began in Peru in July 2022. The then 23-year-old boat builder from Brisbane aimed to fulfil a childhood dream be the youngest person to row across the Pacific Ocean, the first to do so in a boat designed and built by themselves and with hopes to complete the second longest rowing journey in history.

His experiences on the first leg of his epic voyage undoubtedly equipped Tom with the mental strength and survival skills to endure what was to come later. His planned 75-day crossing from Peru to the Marquesas turned into a 160-day marathon after winds and currents knocked him off course. He eventually made landfall on remote Penrhyn Island in the Cook Islands in December 2022 after a tough battle with prevailing currents which had seen him rowing hard for 10-12 hours each day, living off limited rations.

For the past nine months, Tom has threaded his way through various island nations of the South Pacific connecting with people and cultures whose lives are dependent on healthy productive seas. “There’s a simplicity in the way that the Pacific islander people I met live that is so beautiful,” he says.

“That’s something that I’ll always remember and always aspire to be like that. Their Christian faith is just so impressive to me and stands out as an amazing feature of their lives and something that will always stay with me. And they’re happy people and kind people. And I think above all, they’re selfless people. They would give you the shirt off their back, and sometimes they tried to. I think we could all learn to be a bit more selfless.”

Tom was just 50 days from home when disaster struck, and I ask him if he’s had time to reflect on the journey and missing out on those rowing records yet amid the media scramble that’s ensued since news of “the naked rower” hit the headlines a few days ago.

“To be honest” says Tom, “finishing off that last 50 days wasn’t that important to me. It’s not about the record in the end, it’s about the experience along the way. The whole journey was far more exciting and adventurous, enjoyable and terrible than I could have ever imagined, and I had a lot more of an adventure than I ever expected to. I think a lot of people will just read the website or the headlines, and the headline is that ‘he didn’t make it’, I guess. But for me, yeah, I really did achieve everything I wanted to achieve. I couldn’t really ask for more.”

Related: Tom Robinson shares epic tales from first leg of world record-breaking solo journey

The post ‘Naked rower’ Tom Robinson speaks about 14-hour ordeal stranded at sea appeared first on Australian Geographic.

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At 6.50am, we check with the hotel receptionist. “Oh yes, it was definitely booked. I’ll call them.”

Now it’s 6.55am. Check again. “They say they’re on the way.” 

At 7am, when we’re supposed to be at the other end of the city’s lengthy Esplanade, joining the team we’ll be working with on a rare solar eclipse in five days: “I’ll call them again.”

It’s 7.05am – now with a hint of exasperation: “They still haven’t turned up…” 

“No,” says the receptionist. “They hardly ever do. I don’t know why.” Consternation and looming hysteria. But then, at 7.10am, a rideshare car drops off an incoming passenger and we grab the vehicle before it departs. There is a benign Providence after all.

When you’re embarking on what you fondly expect will be the trip of a lifetime, a smooth start is highly desirable. But if a shaky one turns out to be the worst that goes wrong – well, you have much to be thankful for. And by the way, only one of us is subject to bouts of hysteria when travel arrangements go awry. The other is completely unflappable, with more than two decades of professional travel experience, from airline cabin crew to tourism management.

The solar eclipse of 20 April 2023 was to be a particularly unusual one. Like all total eclipses, the awe-inspiring phenomenon of the Moon covering the disc of the Sun is only seen if you are somewhere along the path of the Moon’s shadow across Earth’s surface, the so-called path of totality. The width of the shadow depends on the particular circumstances of the eclipse, as does the length of time you’re in darkness when it passes over you. That’s because neither the Moon’s orbit around Earth nor Earth’s around the Sun is perfectly circular, causing their relative distances to vary as they glide around one another in their celestial pas de trois. 

Under the most favourable circumstances, the Moon’s shadow is more than 200km across. In this case, however, it would trace out a path only 40km wide, crossing a tiny portion of the Australian continent at Exmouth in Western Australia. Moreover, this was to be a particularly rare form of eclipse, called a hybrid. At the beginning and end of the path of totality (in the Indian and Pacific oceans), the Moon wouldn’t be close enough to Earth to block out the Sun completely. Any observers there would see an annular eclipse, in which the Moon’s black disc is surrounded by a brilliant ring of sunlight – the so-called ring of fire. In the central part of the path, however, the bulge of Earth’s curvature would bring observers near enough to the Moon to make the eclipse total, hiding the Sun’s luminous disc and revealing the delicate features of our star’s outer atmosphere.

A rare event like this was likely to bring overwhelming crowds of would-be eclipse watchers to the Exmouth peninsula, straining its limited resources, so we had long abandoned the idea of making a pilgrimage to view it. Then we had an invitation from Australian Geographic’s then Editor-in-chief, Chrissie Goldrick, to represent the organisation on an Australian Geographic Society expedition, in partnership with Coral Expeditions. Our means of transport was to be a ship operated by Coral Expeditions, bound on a special eclipse-plus-Kimberley cruise. We gave the offer a full two seconds of careful thought before accepting it with gratitude. 

Related: Ningaloo Eclipse: As Exmouth prepares to be plunged into darkness, it’s the small town’s time to shine

And so, on a sunny 15 April, and only slightly dishevelled from our close encounter with a missed boat, we joined the expedition ship Coral Adventurer at Darwin’s Fort Hill Wharf. The vessel is modern and well appointed, capable of accessing remote wilderness areas in safety and comfort (as the adverts say – and we can attest). Carrying a maximum of 120 passengers, the ship is large enough for ocean voyaging in comfort while maintaining a friendly and relaxed atmosphere for the passengers and crew (more advertising likewise attested). A significant enhancement since we’d last ventured along the Kimberley coast in 2009 was the use of lightweight 60-seat tenders, deployed hydraulically from the stern and eliminating steps and ladders. Dubbed Xplorers, Coral Expeditions describes the two craft as the “safari jeeps of the sea”, which they indeed proved to be. 

Having boarded the ship and undergone the safety briefing, we were introduced to Captain Matthew Fryer and his crew and met our fellow guest presenters. Husband-and-wife photographers Scott Portelli and Rosie Leaney were, like us, invitees of Australian Geographic, while legendary Kimberley expert Ian Morris instantly became our go-to authority on everything Top End, from the region’s geology to its First Nations people, with whom he has close kinship connections. And, of course, there was the full complement of 120 passengers, most of whom we got to know throughout the voyage.

So – what was the plan for this solar eclipse expedition? Basically, it was to graft a path-of-totality detour onto an already spectacular Kimberley exploration cruise lasting two weeks. The idea of providing guests with an unforgettable experience independent of the eclipse (in case of cloud obscuration or other show-stoppers) was familiar to us from our own previous eclipse expeditions. 

Of the Kimberley cruise itself, there’s much to enthuse about. The vessel’s gradual progress around the coast from Darwin to Broome was a classic introduction to the breathtaking landscapes, natural history and First Nations art of the region. Iconic locations such as Oomari Falls, Bigge Island, Prince Frederick Harbour, Horizontal Falls, the Lacepede Islands and the astounding appearing/disappearing Montgomery Reef duly overwhelmed our hearts and minds. 

And for all this was a rugged expedition cruise, there was much that was refined for the passengers to experience. Not just the fine dining and pre-dinner drinks, but lectures by the guest presenters – and after-dinner movies if you craved still more screen time. And we did our bit, with astronomy and space-themed presentations, ranging from “Eclipses 101” to the damaging effects of light pollution on nocturnal wildlife and humans. Plus we provided a comprehensive account of the work of Australian Geographic, presented by Marnie cheerfully and openly masquerading as the journal’s Editor-in-chief.

Uppermost on both our minds during the first few days, though, was the eclipse itself, and as 20 April drew nearer, preparations grew with an intensity matched only by our mounting anxiety. Would the weather stay clear in the wake of the recent Tropical Cyclone Ilsa, for example? Were our online charts of the path of totality up to scratch? Would the small telescopes fitted with solar filters we’d helped to assemble for Coral Expeditions be any use at all on a moving vessel? It all remained to be seen. 

Our initial discussions with Coral Expeditions had suggested that the best location to see the eclipse would be Scott Reef, some 440km north-west of Broome. But it was decided that Ashmore Reef, a site 240km NE of Scott Reef and almost directly north of Broome, would better fit the cruise itinerary, so that became the planned destination. However, time and tide are no followers of plans, and discussions with Captain Matt and his master mariners the day before the event indicated that to avoid a heavy swell detrimental to eclipse watching we would need to be on the western side of Ashmore – which would take us uncomfortably close to the edge of the shadow path.

A better bet would be our old friend Scott Reef, whose sheltered western side would place us right on the centre line of the shadow. It would also give us a full one minute and 15 seconds of totality – more than most other locations on the path. And it boasted a small sand cay that would allow a group of serious eclipse photographers, led by Scott and Rosie, to land and set up their cameras and telescopes on terra firma.

And so Scott Reef it was, with the day dawning bright and clear, and a full morning of astronomy-related talks to precede it. Although our location placed us firmly in the time zone of WA, the ship remained on Darwin time throughout the cruise, making the predicted start time for the eclipse a laid-back 11.57am. It was a long morning for the two of us, however, since we were privately spooked by the absence of any other vessels in the area – had we made an awful mistake? Presenting our lectures was a welcome distraction. But eventually, staring assiduously through filtered binoculars, we were relieved to see the almost-imperceptible black edge of the Moon’s disc begin its three hours and eight minutes passage across the face of the Sun, right on schedule. Yes, we were in the right place at the right time. The partial phase of the eclipse had begun. 

A total eclipse is an event any impresario would be proud to have arranged. That tantalising first contact of the Moon’s disc is the start of a splendid one-and-a-half-hour spectacle that builds to an overwhelming climax when the Sun disappears altogether for a brief period. And then there’s another hour and a half of more relaxed viewing, as the Sun grows from a slender crescent back to its shining whole. 

It’s easy to imagine the terror our distant forebears must have felt during such an event – surely evidence that the gods had forsaken them. And what a relief to see the Sun return to normality afterwards. Even for us 21st-century sophisticates, there is food for thought in the remarkable coincidence that allows total eclipses to take place. While the Moon is 400 times smaller than the Sun, it is on average 400 times closer to Earth, so the two bodies have the same angular diameter of half a degree in the sky, allowing one to cover the other perfectly.

Whatever you make of that cosmic fluke, eclipses today are generally regarded as excellent excuses for a party. And the Coral Adventurer’s eclipse was no different. The capacious sundeck on its uppermost level provided the perfect venue, sheltered by a large awning to offer protection while passengers lunched during the lengthy partial phase of the eclipse. With enough open space on the deck to allow frequent popping out to see how the eclipse was progressing, everyone took advantage of filtered binoculars and telescopes to crane their necks upwards to the spectacle high in the northern sky. The eclipse-watcher’s mantra of “never look directly at the Sun” had been well learnt. And some craft-minded adventurers made pinholes in sheets of paper, spelling out slogans like “Eclipses rock” or “Scott Reef 2023”, which projected tiny crescent-shaped images of the Sun onto the ground when held in the sunlight. Then, as the climax neared, passengers and crew gravitated towards those open areas or down to the bridge deck to get a clear view of the uncanny visual effects that herald a total eclipse, while we provided running commentaries in the two locations. The first thing you notice is the change in daylight. Yes, it’s getting darker as the Sun’s disc is progressively obscured, but our visual perception is so well adapted to changing light conditions that it’s only when a slender crescent of sunlight remains that you really notice it. What’s more obvious is a change in the quality of the light – the sky takes on a steely grey appearance as the Moon’s shadow races towards you at about 1km per second. 

In the last few seconds before totality, strange rippling patterns race across any white surface – of which there are plenty on the upper decks of an expedition ship. They are called shadow bands, and result from the differing refractive properties of slightly warmer and cooler air being blown along in the atmosphere, only revealed when illuminated by a thin sliver of sunlight. Now is the time to look at the Sun itself, still through filters, to witness Baily’s Beads – blobs of light formed as the last remaining glimpses of the Sun’s disc filter through valleys in the Moon’s mountainous rim. (Francis Baily was a British astronomer who first noticed the effect during an eclipse in 1836.) Often, a single cluster of beads remains briefly, and taking off your filters or eclipse sunglasses will let you see its brilliance embedded in the Sun’s corona – the pearly outer atmosphere that now forms a complete circle around the Moon. This is the “diamond ring” effect, beloved of eclipse photographers and the immediate precursor to the total eclipse. 

Those events all take place in a matter of seconds before the brief period of totality begins, and so it was with our eclipse at Scott Reef. As soon as the Sun’s disc was completely hidden, the corona shone out brightly, its streaks and striations the products of our star’s complex magnetism. Closer to the Moon’s black disc, pink veins of glowing hydrogen known as prominences traced plasma jets, tens of thousands of kilometres long, in the Sun’s inner atmosphere. The sky around the eclipsed Sun was dark enough for planets to be seen – Saturn, Jupiter, and lower down in the sky, brilliant Venus. And the whole scenario was accompanied by unbidden cheers and whoops from the crowd – a visceral response to this precise alignment of celestial bodies that we had all journeyed so far to see.

Our one minute and 15 seconds of totality started at 1.29pm, and seemed to last for about as long as those two seconds it had taken us to make up our minds to come on the expedition. All too soon, the visual phenomena paraded themselves in reverse – a diamond ring, Baily’s beads, shadow bands and a quickly growing crescent Sun. Celebrations were in order, and they went on throughout the afternoon, accompanied by admiring glances at the still-visible Venus and frequent inspections of the crescent Sun through filtered binoculars, as if to confirm that no, we hadn’t imagined this truly amazing phenomenon. 

Eventually, at 3.05pm, the Moon finally slid off the disc of the Sun, bringing to an end our perfect view of the 2023 eclipse. And then, well, we continued on our merry way, exploring the Kimberley until we disembarked at Broome eight days later. But there’s a widely known problem with total eclipses, which really warrants a health warning. They are highly addictive! Many of the passengers on our eclipse cruise had seen several – some well into double figures. Some were even able to calculate how many minutes they had spent under the shadow of the Moon. The bottom line is that they are expensive, almost always involving a journey to some exotic part of the world to catch a few minutes of totality at best. 

If that’s a problem for you, as it is for most of us, don’t despair. It won’t be too long before there’s an eclipse that comes to us, rather than the other way around. On 22 July 2028, the shadow of the Moon will cross the entire continent from the northern tip of WA to Sydney, before spanning the Bass Strait to give watchers in Aotearoa New Zealand their own taste of eclipse fever. 

There you go – and remember where you heard it first. Be sure put it in your diary. 

Fred Watson is Australia’s Astronomer-at-Large. You can find him on ABC Radio and the weekly Space Nuts podcast. His latest book for the young and young-at-heart is Spacewarp: Colliding Comets and Other Cosmic Catastrophes (NewSouth, 2021).

Marnie Ogg is a dark-sky advocate well known for her Dark Sky Conversations podcast and her advisory role in outdoor lighting policy. She is the founder of the Australasian Dark Sky Alliance and leads the Dark Sky Traveller science tour company.

Related: When is Australia’s next total solar eclipse?

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Wild squirrel glider populations have been found in Aussie Ark’s Barrington Wildlife Sanctuary and the Mongo Valley Wildlife Sanctuary and the Australian Geographic-supported nest boxes will encourage population growth at these enclaves.

They will serve as intermediate shelter and breeding habitat until the food-source trees planted in both of the sanctuaries mature.

Aussie Ark has also celebrated the birth of its first captive-bred squirrel glider. New parents, Gamora and Starlord, welcomed a female joey called Hope.

Initial health checks were conducted in December last year and revealed a healthy joey, weighing 63g. Hope progressed well, weighing 173g at her subsequent check last January.

Related: Australia’s marsupial gliders: guide

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They also use their semi-prehensile tails to collect and transport grasses and bark, which they use to build nests.

The eastern bettong was driven to extinction on the mainland for almost 100 years by foxes, feral cats and hunting by early pastoralists. But it’s been successfully reintroduced at Wildbark, a nature reserve near Canberra run by conservation not-for-profit Odonata.

Donations will support the use of individual animals from Wildbark to re-establish eastern bettong populations throughout Victoria and New South Wales.

Please make a tax deductible donation today. Donate here.

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Land clearing, dams and drought destroy habitat, leaving the amphibious mammals with nowhere to go.

Little is known about which specific waterways the species inhabits, including whether declines or local extinctions have occurred.

By recording where platypuses live, we can understand more about this incredible creature, and help prevent further declines.

The Australian Conservation Foundation’s (ACF) platy-project aims to prioritise the biggest platypus data gaps, and community involvement is key in tackling these.

Your donation will help ACF sustain and grow this critical program and hopefully increase our chance of spotting a healthy platypus in the wild.

Please make a tax deductible donation today. Donate here.

Related: Platypus

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I hugged the far left of the road, pushed up against a guardrail that squeezed me and my five large camels between speeding cars and a steep drop below. The scene was quickly becoming more chaotic. Just as we had begun our ascent, the UHF radios my partner, Jimmy, and friend, Keirin, had been using to communicate with one another and direct traffic safely around the camels had gone flat. Jimmy was running ahead of my slow-moving camel string, his shirt drenched in sweat as he rounded the blind bends in advance, frantically waving his arms to slow the speeding oncoming traffic. Keirin was driving at a snail’s pace up the hill behind me and the camels. Attached to her ute was a yellow “Traffic Hazard Ahead” sign – a futile attempt to stop cars from passing me on the narrow bends. 

Without communication between my two-person support crew, neither knew when it was safe to let cars pass. Drivers were becoming impatient and overtaking with complete disregard for my nervous animals; at times their legs were only inches from the wheels. 

I turned my head to check on my camel Jude, who was second in position; his eyes were wide with terror. I could see a truck approaching from behind. Jude could hear it too. He was panicking, twisting sideways, a dangerous habit he had developed that pulled the three camels behind him into the middle of the road. With me up the front gripping the lead rope, I found it virtually impossible to control the 12m of fishtailing camels stretched out behind me. I was tense with fear, praying for the cars not to hit them. 

Related: Australian Geographic Society Gala Awards 2022: Spirit of Adventure, Sophie Matterson

Many camels and I had been on the road (predominantly dirt tracks) for 13 months. We had left Shark Bay on the coast of Western Australia in April 2020, by chance timing the beginning of our journey with the COVID pandemic. Most of Australia went into lockdown. The tracks and roads were deserted, and I often walked for weeks without seeing a soul. In 2021 the second half of my journey proved to be completely opposite to my first.

The extreme summer heat in the outback made walking near impossible, so I chose to split my trip over two years. When I finished the first half in Coober Pedy, I agisted my camels on a station in the Flinders Ranges in South Australia, and flew home to Brisbane. It was strange to not have my camels constantly by my side, and disconcerting living under a roof again where I felt disconnected to the natural world around me. I consoled myself by eating copious amounts of ice­-cream, trying to put on weight for the second half of my walk. Drought and poor feed across most of WA had taken its toll on my camels and I hoped they were eating as well. When I returned in early 2021 to muster them from their holiday, I was relieved to be met by transformed, healthy-looking animals. Summer rains had created a buffet of plants – the equivalent of camel “ice-cream” – in the outback and their humps were mountainous with fat. 

I resumed my trip in Coober Pedy, where I had left off, and began my long walk to the east coast. I was nervous once again to start, fearing the long break had turned me soft. Could I be as tough and courageous as I had proven to myself during the first half of the journey? 

The red gibber stones were painted green with a thick carpet of prickly, but succulent, burrs. I was following the Oodnadatta Track around the south end of the impassable Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre towards the Dog Fence, which runs along the Queensland–NSW border. Rain from the previous evening had left the clay soil below the gibbers soft, and the camels were creating deep sinkholes in their wake. My boots were now four times as heavy as usual, with a tall platform of clay stuck to the soles. We moved closer to the graded track, where the firmer soil made the walking easier. Since lockdowns had lifted, and with international travel still off the cards, it seemed that “every man and his dog” had escaped the city and were visiting the outback.

On my first day walking the Oodnadatta Track I passed more four-wheel-drives and caravans than I had in my entire first six months walking. The response from travellers was amazing. People pulled over to ask me questions, wish me luck and meet the camels. Jude, Delilah, Charlie, Clayton and Mac got used to being objects of attention and adoration. 

Although the first half of my journey had been more isolated, there were also many invaluable meetings. Among them was an ex-sniper who helped me with my rifles and prepared me for encounters with wild bull camels, and the Oak Valley Indigenous ranger team that had done water drops for me and my camels in the Great Victoria Desert. But long periods of walking alone between such meetings had bred in me a fierce independence. One of the attractions of my adventure was that with camels I could be self-sufficient – able to travel the country without need of a vehicle support or a team of people. The trip had been empowering in showing me how capable I was of survival in the bush on my own. But as I made my way across the country, I was also beginning to realise that it was the people that I met along the way who had lent so much colour and happiness to the journey. 

“Aren’t you worried about weirdos?” had been one of the most common questions I was asked before departing on my camel trek. This question was born of outback Australia’s reputation for harbouring serial killers, the likes of the movie Wolf Creek. Having walked across the continent alone as a woman it now seemed ludicrous. I had met lots of quirky characters, but none that had sinister intentions in any way. It was quite the opposite; everyone was determined to help me. People invited me into their homes, fed me, helped me fix equipment, shared their knowledge, provided hay for my camels. Many became great friends, whom I would one day return to visit. I had even met my partner, Jimmy, on my summer break in the tiny town of Copley, population of 83, near where the camels had been agisted. Jimmy was determined to assist me, driving back and forth thousands of kilometres to deliver food and spend time with me when I took a break. 

After Jimmy departed from one such visit in the Strzelecki Desert, I crossed paths the following day with John Elliott, a fellow camel trekker who was walking with his camels from east to west. I then carried on to Cameron Corner, a general store and outback destination that marks the meeting of three states – SA, NSW, and Queensland – where a party was being held with station owners from the surrounding district, many of whom I had already met on my walk through the area. Who would have thought the Strzelecki Desert could be so social!

Despite the increased sociability I experienced during the second half of my trip, the outback remains a remote swathe of country and I spent many days and weeks alone with my camels. Along the Dog Fence that runs east–west between Queensland and NSW, I saw no-one. I wasn’t travelling a public road, nor did this route take me past homesteads. Once again, I settled into the quiet, rhythmic nature of travelling with the camels. At the beginning of my journey I always felt like I was in a rush (why, I don’t exactly know). I was fixated on the number of kilometres I was doing every day, trying to doggedly to push forward to the end. In this remote part of the country, I gradually became aware that I had finally learnt to relax. I was lingering, not wanting the journey to end, thoroughly enjoying every day with my camels. I was in an area known as the Bullagree, a vast dry swamp with golden dunes created by run-off from the Bulloo River. This time, spent alone without the stimulus of society, made my system slow down. I felt more in tune with nature than I ever had before. I felt free, observing both the infinite space around me and the minute details of nature, the tracks in the sand, the tiny finches and wrens darting between shrubs. When I slept at night I felt as if I could hear the heartbeat of the land itself.

Related: Crossing Australia solo on the camel trek: Sophie Matterson

As I stood atop a dune in the Bullagree, feeling the wind in my face and watching my camels graze peacefully as the sun set, I realised it was all about to change. I had been looking at my map and noticed that I wasn’t far from where the topographical lines that marked the dunes ended. There was no more desert country standing between us and the east coast. I felt a pang of sadness. 

A month later, when I left the small town of Hebel on the Queensland border, I realised I had now not only left the desert, but the outback as well. In front of me were bitumen roads and fences either side. I was used to camping where I pleased, but now I was forced to camp wherever I could find an easement next to the road where my five large travelling companions wouldn’t be so conspicuous. 

By now we had moved into grain country and the harvest was in full swing. I spent several weeks weaving between a highway plied by frequent trucks and an overgrown service road next to a trainline. 

My five camels had been mustered from the wild. It had taken time but they were now well settled into domestic life, but elements such as trucks and trains were still completely foreign and terrifying for them. There was nothing I could do except expose them to these new experiences and hope that they would be able to get used to them before we reached bustling Byron Bay. They did improve, except for Jude, who remained fixedly scared of trucks. My annoyance at his irrational behaviour was counterbalanced by my deep love for him; he was my favourite camel. 

If I had been dreading the isolation of setting off into the desert – before I realised how beautiful it would be – I was now dreading the built-up eastern fringe of Australia. I loved being alone and self-sufficient. But now, dodging trucks and trains, I realised it was only going to get worse and I needed help. 

It would be dangerous to tackle the final busy leg to the coast without a support crew to keep my camels safe. And the camels’ safety and welfare had always been my number-one priority. Jimmy and Keirin stepped up to help.

Luckily, that day, on the outskirts of Lismore, we reached the top of the dreaded winding road safely. Jude’s panic was quelled by some emotional eating, and that night we charged the UHFs. In the days that followed, my support crew became professionals, directing cars safely around me and the camels like qualified traffic controllers in hi-vis vests. 

I had the easy job; all I had to do was hold on to the lead rope and keep slowly plodding along at the camel pace of 3km/h – you can’t rush camels! 

I watched in amazement one day as Jimmy ran out into traffic, holding his left hand up with authority, signalling oncoming cars to stop while waving through 50 vehicles that had come to a standstill behind me. I could see people holding up phones and filming us through car windows, while others yelled encouragement or gave us the thumbs up. It was impossible not to be buoyed by the excitement from the public. We were certainly an unusual spectacle on the outskirts of Byron Bay. 

When I finally caught sight of the Pacific Ocean gleaming before us, it took me by surprise. We had been so focused on navigating the traffic that the end had crept up on us. My trip taught me to compartmentalise, to focus on one day at a time; in that way, such a long journey became manageable. I had stopped thinking of the end long ago, and the sight of the water now took my breath away.

When I reached the water’s edge the following morning, it felt as if time stood still. I let the waves lap at the camels’ toes and looked towards the lighthouse, watching the rays of the rising sun shine between a gap in the clouds and shroud us in purple light. It was magical indeed. 

But as friends and family congratulated me, the knowledge that I had yet to safely navigate the camels back through the heavy traffic of Byron to The Farm, where there was a paddock for them, weighed heavily on me.

The main road into Byron was bumper-to-bumper traffic. As well as Jimmy and Keirin, other friends joined me for this final walk. Once we arrived at the paddock and the gate was latched behind us, my entourage erupted into screams and shouts of joy and celebration. They had escorted me safely. 

I could no longer hold it together; emotion overcame me, and I sank to the ground in tears with the lead rope still clutched in my hand. My camels and I had made it – we had walked 4750km across the country. 

My trek proved that I could dream of a great adventure and have the resolve to see it through. The journey was undertaken as a solo endeavour, and through it I had learnt the strength of my own independence. 

However, I realised that without the kindness of strangers, and support of friends and family, it would have been near impossible. The outback tested my resilience, revealed its beauty to me, and showed the generosity of spirit of people I had met along the way. 

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Once common throughout New South Wales and Victoria, this stunning amphibian has been heavily impacted by coastal development.

It’s estimated that just 40 locations now exist where the frog continues to live in the wild, but these sites are under constant threat of land-clearing and development.

At Conservation Ark – a dedicated reptile and amphibian facility in the grounds of Aussie Ark’s sister organisation, the Australian Reptile Park – the species is thriving.

You can help support this insurance population against extinction.

Please make a tax deductible donation today. Donate here.

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But there’s been a colourful parade of explorers, pirates, buccaneers, whalers, sealers, speculators and colonists who have also weighed anchor here since the first documented arrival by Fray Tomás de Berlanga. He stumbled upon the islands while sailing from Panama to Peru in 1535, ending their long isolation and heralding the start of their exploitation. It’s likely that Indigenous sailors from the South American continent visited before Berlanga, but unlike many Pacific islands, the Galápagos wasn’t colonised until modern times. By then, thanks to Darwin and forward-thinking Ecuadorian administrators, the archipelago’s unique scientific value had been recognised.

Another notable visitor was Herman Melville, who arrived as a young seaman in 1841 aboard the whaler Acushnet. Melville’s hard life aboard Acushnet informed his classic novel Moby Dick, with its vengeful white whale and crazed Captain Ahab. The famed piece of literature was inspired by the true story of the whaler Essex, which was rammed and sunk by a whale while the ship was conducting its bloody business in 1820. The Essex’s crew had harvested almost all the giant tortoises as a ready source of fresh meat from Floreana in the Galápagos. They set fire to the island as they departed, destroying the remaining animals and sending the Floreana tortoise species extinct. The grim fate of the Essex and its crew was regarded by certain superstitious old salts as a form of natural justice for the demise of the tortoises and the ravaging of sperm-whale populations by 19th-century whalers. What’s certainly true is that Melville later penned a series of magazine stories called The Encantadas, or The Enchanted Isles, that recalled in vivid detail the strange worlds and even stranger creatures he encountered while in the Galápagos. 

Today, it’s our turn to be enchanted by this unique archipelago, deservedly regarded as nature’s living laboratory. 

This Australian Geographic Society expedition, in partnership with Hurtigruten Expeditions, has brought a band of modern explorers to the Galápagos. I’m here with an enthusiastic group of Australian Geographic readers, all filled with anticipation, and excited to board MS Santa Cruz II. It’s been a protracted journey over several days to reach the Galápagos. Such isolation has shaped the destiny of this nature-lover’s paradise and continues to help protect it today. 

It’s early September – traditionally low season here. And with COVID still casting a long shadow across international travel, we’re a tight group of just 26 voyagers aboard an expedition ship equipped to accommodate many more. We begin as strangers. But during the next week of shared natural encounters, adventures in and out of the water, meals and lectures together aboard Santa Cruz II, we’ll coalesce into a band of comrades, learning and growing together in a shared spirit of enthusiasm…with plenty of laughs along the way. We’ll spend days exploring the south-easternmost islands of the archipelago from our floating base, surrounded by its Scandinavian-inspired decor and led by its team of expert Ecuadorian naturalists. Their knowledge, passion and humour will convert us all into ambassadors for the Galápagos.

The islands we’re visiting are the oldest in the group and are volcanically inactive. This is in contrast to the westernmost islands of Isabela and Fernandina, which have many active shield volcanoes that continue to belch fumaroles of scalding, sulfuric steam and dispatch rivers of boiling lava down to cool and solidify in the sea in a cycle of island building. The most recent eruptions were Wolf Volcano on Isabela, in January 2022; La Cumbre Volcano on Fernandina, in 2020, 2018 and 2017; and Sierra Negra Volcano on Isabela in 2018.

The Galápagos is an island chain formed abovea volcanic hotspot, where magma from deep within the planet’s mantle wells up and creates volcanic activity. Magma that causes a hotspot is much hotter and more fluid than that which forms at a tectonic plate boundary, so it’s able to punch through Earth’s crust and forge a volcano on the surface. The hotspot is still active and new islands occasionally appear after volcanic eruptions, but as the Nazca Plate on which the islands lie continues drifting south-eastwards, the older islands move further away. Time has done the rest, transforming these old volcanoes into flatter, more productive ecosystems that support not just high levels of flora and fauna biodiversity, but a few human settlements, agriculture, a world-leading conservation program and a burgeoning tourism industry.

Mosquera and San Cristóbal

We arrive by inflatable craft on Mosquera, a narrow shard of rock, on our first sunny afternoon and enjoy the first of many interactions with Galápagos sea lions. Their golden fur turns dark and glossy in the surf, where they frolic and toss hapless fish around, seemingly for fun. They’re mostly oblivious to us but are occasionally inquisitive, and we get our first taste of the fearlessness of Galápagos wildlife. 

Hard to miss among the black basalt boulders are the bright red, blue and yellow carapaces of Sally Lightfoot crabs. Named by early sailors for a famous ballerina, these stunning crustaceans can move in a dance-like manner in every direction, unlike the more limited sideways movements of most crab species.

Overnight, we travel to the Galápagos’s most easterly island, San Cristóbal, and land at Punta Pitt just after dawn. Its ochre-hued volcanic tuff moonscape divulges ancient origins, but today it’s a haven for a variety of seabirds and it’s here we meet our first boobies. There are three varieties – the more abundant blue-footed species, the harder-to-spot red-foots that nest here among stunted sparse vegetation and the Nazca booby. The blue-footed chicks don’t flinch as our procession of camera-wielding admirers passes close to nests beside the designated track, from which we’re told not to veer. 

It’s not always easy to stick to the rules or maintain the prescribed 2m buffer when birds stubbornly take up positions in the middle of tracks. But these moments provide unobstructed views of their superb webbed blue feet and allow us to marvel at a hue rarely deployed in nature, but here gifted to this endearing, comical bird for the purposes of impressing a mate. We spot endemic San Cristóbal mockingbirds as they dart out from between rocks and bushes; they flit fearlessly around our feet as we clamber up through the rugged tuff cliffs. It seems these charismatic birds are as curious about us as we are about them.

September brings the season known as Garúa. Cool upwellings from the vast depths of the Pacific Ocean combine with cold currents flowing northwards up the South American coast to create a mild year-round climate, despite the Galápagos’s geographic position along the Equator. Garúa, meaning drizzle, is the coolest season and is characterised by cloud cover, winds and light rain in the mornings. It’s good walking weather and, with lower tourist numbers, the perfect time of year to visit.

We reach the high cliffs of San Cristóbal just as the early-morning sun pierces the low-hanging cloud layer. It shoots rays down through a cleft to burnish the ocean’s surface and our uphill effort is rewarded with a shimmering dance of light on the water. We visit the island’s human settlement of Puerto Baquerizo Moreno in the afternoon and enjoy our first encounter with Galápagos’s most famous denizen, the giant tortoise, at the Cerro Colorado “David Rodriguez” Breeding Center.

This global conservation emblem that gives the Galápagos its (Spanish) name, is undoubtedly one of the planet’s most incredible creatures. “Lonesome George”, the solo survivor of the Pinta Island species of giant tortoise (Chelonoidis abingdonii), and once regarded as the rarest creature in the world, became an icon. He was famously filmed by Sir David Attenborough in 2012 in an emotional sequence made even more so by the century-old reptile’s death just days after David’s encounter. Inscribed on his enclosure on Santa Cruz Island were the words, “Whatever happens to this single animal, let him always remind us that the fate of all living things on Earth is in human hands.”

Pinta Island’s position along a key shipping route led to the over-exploitation of its tortoise population by early whalers, sealers and other fortune seekers, as happened elsewhere in the islands. Giant tortoises could survive months without food or water in ships’ holds. At least 100,000 individuals were likely removed across the archipelago before controls were introduced in the 1950s. The Pinta is one of five Galápagos giant tortoise species that have gone extinct, leaving 15 that are today the subject of intensive and effective conservation. In a stunning comeback for these gentle giants, an estimated 20,000 individuals across numerous species now live within the breeding centres and nature reserves of the Galápagos National Park.

Santa Fé and South Plaza

Our next port of call is Santa Fé Island, a small speck with a big assemblage of endemic creatures that are not even found elsewhere within the archipelago. Some visitors to the Galápagos like to tick off the Big 15, much like Africa’s Big Five. Between Santa Fé and South Plaza today, and Española later in the week, we’ll get most of the list populated. 

On our way to a beach landing on Santa Fé, a pod of humpback whales passes within metres of our little flotilla of inflatable vessels, and suddenly an exhilarating chase is underway. Our Ecuadorian naturalists follow the pod out to sea for a few kilometres, but we are well and truly outrun and turn back towards the island having revelled in the thrill of an unexpected wildlife moment.

Santa Fé is among the oldest islands here and one of few that didn’t begin life as a volcano. Its great age has endowed it with high levels of endemic species, including Galápagos mockingbirds, rice rats, Santa Fé land iguanas, snakes and Galápagos hawks. Most immediately striking is the large sea-lion colony on the beach in Barrington Bay, where females sunbake while their pups play in the water. Large males belch and grunt, facing off with each other as they guard harems. We’re relieved our presence goes largely ignored by them as we file past after disembarking for our guided walk. We climb up from the beach and pass a solitary stocky Santa Fé land iguana basking on the warm rocks. We’re dwarfed by sculptural prickly pear cactus trees (Opuntia spp.) that grow in abundance here.

We return to Barrington Bay later for a drift-snorkel among its clear waters. In the choppy, cool sea we float and freedive among fish too numerous to identify. Green turtles occasionally surface for air and it’s just possible to discern the tell-tale outlines of reef sharks in the depths below. Mischievous young sea lions join in the fun as we drift back towards their beach, and they cause a few hearts to flutter when they cheekily pop up right next to unwary swimmers.

Santa Cruz II heads towards its namesake island, which is tomorrow’s destination. Before that we explore South Plaza, lying just off its eastern shore. Eye-popping bright-red sesuvium carpets the stony terrain from which rise more of those striking cactuses, creating a superb multicoloured vista across the island. Wheeling around its high cliffs are brown pelicans, boobies of all kinds, and our first close sightings of marauding magnificent frigatebirds with their bright crimson neck pouches. These avian thieves are always ready to snatch a fishy morsel or twig of nesting material from the beaks of gullible birds. 

Elegant red-tailed tropicbirds rapidly twirl and nosedive, posing no end of focusing challenges for the photographers among us; as for the twitchers, it’s hard to know in which direction to point the binoculars, such is the abundance of bird action. 

We catch sight of our first marine iguanas high on the cliffs. They’re easy to miss with their matt black bodies camouflaged against the basalt rocks, and their frozen poses. On each island we’ll visit during the coming days we’ll encounter even greater gatherings of these intriguing reptiles, the world’s only marine lizard species, as well as their bulkier and more solitary cousins, the land iguanas.

Santa Cruz

Darwin’s era-defining sojourn among these islands lasted a mere five weeks in 1835, but it was to have a profound effect on our understanding of all life on Earth, and our place in it. He collected specimens, including finches and mockingbirds, and kept copious field notes that he later used to crystallise his theory of evolution. As his ship HMS Beagle moved between islands, Darwin observed how members of the same species developed different physical adaptations to suit localised environments, especially among the finch and mockingbird species, and he published his findings in On the Origin of Species in 1859. 

Darwin’s work brought the Galápagos to the attention of the world and played a vital role in the subsequent protection of the islands. In 1935 the Ecuadorian government enacted the first protective legislation for the islands. In 1959 the Charles Darwin Foundation, which operates the Charles Darwin Research Station, was founded to support scientific research and conservation efforts in the Galápagos. That same year, 98 per cent of the archipelago was gazetted as national park, and in 1978 it was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site. 

According to Esteban Kolb, our expedition leader, there’s a fragile balance here between the need to preserve and rehabilitate these unique natural ecosystems and the growing demands of tourism to support the local economy. “The national park and its rules are doing a pretty good job. They’re controlling in every direction you can imagine. But I still believe there has to be a stronger collaboration between the national park and the companies that are, one way or another, operating in the Galápagos,” Esteban says. “But so far, due to the amazing and tough job they have done over the last 70 years, the Galápagos is able to offer incredible diversity in a very pristine way without making it look like an amusement park or something that’s not real. It is really authentic and that’s the beauty of it.”

We learn more about the natural history of the Galápagos, its conservation challenges and successes and see more giant tortoises as we explore the Charles Darwin Research Station in Puerto Ayora, on Santa Cruz, the most populous and developed of all the islands. 

There’s a bike-riding opportunity, and in the afternoon we visit a grassy reserve up in the central highlands where wild tortoises roam – grazing, mating, fighting and wallowing, like big shiny boulders, in gloriously muddy pools. Visitors can roam freely among them – a close encounter to be treasured. 

Nearby, we descend into a old lava tube, dark and damp, disturbing a resident barn owl that swoops down for a closer look. The tube offers a fascinating glimpse into the geological genesis of these islands. 

Then it’s back to town for some must-do tourist shopping. In this buzzing town of 18,000 people, there’s also an opportunity to enjoy a beer or two among the local Galapagueños before heading back to Santa Cruz II. 

Each night we enjoy what’s known as an “eco moment” before dinner. These illustrated talks by our Ecuadorian naturalists are a chance to prepare for the following day’s sights, armed with knowledge that makes every encounter meaningful. The Galápagos is a destination for energetic, active and curious souls, and our group is united by a strong desire to learn.

Brendan Murphy, from Sydney, enjoys the fast pace of the tour. “The days are jam-packed. Every day you see something new. And I think it’s amazing, too, that within a really small area, the islands can each be so different,” he says. “One island feels like you could be in the middle of an Arizona desert, and the next is more like a tropical rainforest. It’s remarkable how close they are to each other and yet they are so different.” 

Brendan’s ecologist wife, Amanda, is impressed at the way the national park is actively managed for conservation, and how tourism is tightly controlled. “It’s not just lip service here as in ‘here’s a national park and now we’ll just let it go’,” she says. “Sure, they could bring big cruise ships in here left, right and centre, because it’s on everyone’s bucket list to go and see the Galápagos. But they’re limiting tourism and they’re not putting economics ahead of the priceless value of the environment.” 

EspaÑola

During coming days, we visit Española where we’re privileged to see rare waved albatross at close quarters. We gaze on in hushed reverence as they go about their protracted, stately courtship dances, complete with bowing, honking and fascinating bill-clacking rituals. They’re oblivious to our presence in their remote stronghold, where there’s an estimated 12,000 breeding pairs. 

We boulder-hop carefully over the arid terrain (walking poles highly recommended) to avoid stepping on marine iguanas and little red-daubed lava lizards, so dense are reptile numbers here. Precipitous, wave-smashed cliffs at Punta Suarez offer perfect launch pads for albatrosses; they career awkwardly towards the precipice, disappearing momentarily over the edge, only to rise again to join an aerial throng of frigatebirds, gulls and tropicbirds in the mist-laden air. 

There’s more deep-water snorkelling, as well as kayaking and stand-up paddleboarding opportunities in the swell, and we return cold and exhausted to the ship to warm up in the twin spa pools on the rear deck.

Edén and North Seymour

The sun illuminates our final day. On Edén Islet we’re treated to a glass bottomed–boat tour to see marine life while we stay dry. We finish the expedition on North Seymour, where frigatebirds nest on bare branches, and we get close to the action as males inflate their huge crimson throat sacs to impress potential mates. Blue-footed boobies guard nests perched precariously on the stony ground and the scales of portly land iguanas turn yellow-gold in the glowing late-afternoon light. 

It’s time to farewell the Galápagos and we gather for a photo before reluctantly returning to the ship. Some of us linger as long as possible among sea-lion families on the shore, breathing in the pure, salty air before reluctantly climbing into the inflatables as the sun dives towards the horizon. This silent reverie is broken by the sudden gun of the motors, and off the little flotilla tears into the darkening distance, as nature heaves a sigh of relief – at least until tomorrow.     

Australian Geographic thanks Hurtigruten, Esteban Kolb, Enrique Silva and all those mentioned and pictured in this story. 

The post The enchanted isles appeared first on Australian Geographic.

Huge numbers of turtle eggs and hatchlings are eaten by fish and birds, providing the important fundamental nutrition driving many marine food webs.

By cropping leaves and distributing seeds, turtles are crucial to the health of seagrass beds, which in turn support countless other oceanic species.

Turtles also increase the productivity of coral reefs by grazing on algae that might otherwise prevent coral poly growth… and we all know how important coral reefs are.

Your funds will particularly help the STF to rescue turtles that become stranded due to pollution, boat strikes and plastic ingestion.

You can make a difference. Please make a tax deductible donation today. Donate here.

The post Help save marine turtles appeared first on Australian Geographic.

The species has become critically endangered due to habitat loss, fragmented subpopulations, bushfires, decline of its food (the bogong moth), impacts of climate change, and predation from ferals.

After 10 years of planning and construction, a new breeding centre at Secret Creek Sanctuary in Lithgow, New South Wales, opened in September 2022 with 14 possums released into their new enclosures.

They’ve now had eight possum babies.

You can help the Burramys Project to protect this beautiful tiny creature against the effects of climate change.

You can make a difference. Please make a tax deductible donation today. Donate here.

The post Help the mountain pygmy-possum appeared first on Australian Geographic.

The perils of his epic journey began long before Tom boarded his rowing boat Maiwar on 9 July last year. He faced bureaucratic barriers, unexpected costs from Peruvian border authorities and unscrupulous shipping agents as he attempted to bring his boat into the country. He was even robbed at knifepoint in downtown Lima. Despite those setbacks, he received lots of moral support and practical assistance from members of the Peruvian Yacht Club in Callao which acted as base camp while he prepared his boat for the long journey across the planet’s greatest expanse of open ocean.

Maiwar is a wooden clinker-built 7m-long rowing boat that Tom designed and constructed himself. Despite his young age, he’s a qualified, wooden boat builder and had already completed two coastal rowing expeditions along the Queensland coast while still at school.

From the age of 12 Tom lived in a house on the banks of the Brisbane River in Queensland where his father built him a little plywood boat for messing about in the river. Rowing became not just a hobby, but an obsession as Tom rowed to and from school each day and played around on the river in every spare moment. At age 14 he rowed 130km solo from Brisbane to the Gold Coast, spending five days living in a 13-foot dinghy that he and his father modified for the journey. It was around that time that Tom decided he was going to be the youngest person ever to row across the Pacific Ocean, an ambition he’s held tightly to for the past eight years.

After completing his year 12 certificate he moved to Sydney aged seventeen to pursue a boatbuilding career. He spent the first year of his apprenticeship there, taking full advantage of the city’s world class sailing and boatbuilding heritage. Tom moved back to Brisbane to focus on wooden boat restoration. For the remaining three years of his apprenticeship, he worked full time restoring his own boats, competing in offshore yacht races and travelling overseas. He also became proficient in traditional celestial navigation.

During the years of the COVID-19 pandemic, while some of his sailing plans were scuppered, Tom set about building the craft that would take him across the Pacific. Why did he choose a wooden boat for such a potentially perilous undertaking?

“There are many reasons,” says Tom. “The biggest being that this is going to be my home for months on end, so it has to be nice, homely and comfortable. There was no way that I was going to spend six months in a plastic or carbon fibre ugly thing like that. And timber, as a material, is beautiful, it’s sustainable, it’s good for the planet. Especially the timber I used, which was Queensland-grown plantation hoop pine, so, it’s a more sustainable option. It feels better, it’s nicer, -in every respect, it’s just better. People may argue you need a carbon fibre boat because it’s lighter and therefore goes faster, but by the time you’ve got enough food and water for six months, the weight of the actual boat itself only makes up a small percentage of the overall weight. So, if I’d gone carbon fibre, maybe I would’ve saved five per cent, but what does that equate to out here? Maybe a few extra days at sea, so it’s not really the right way to think about it. And so, for me, wooden boats are the best.”

Tom’s boat Maiwar has proved herself more than worthy of the task so far. The first leg of Tom’s trans-Pacific rowing attempt came to a successful and safe conclusion when he arrived at idyllic Penryn Island in the northern Cook Island group just before Christmas. The first leg of the journey took longer than anticipated.

“I was at sea for 160 days. I originally planned to make landfall in The Marquesas, which is east of here, but I was blown off course. And so, almost overnight, the journey changed from what was going to be a 100-day first leg into what became a 160-day leg. Penrhyn Island where I am now was next after the Marquesas. And so, it turned into a big, long, arduous, painful, hard journey. But it was pretty spectacular too sometimes,” says Tom.

“I packed food for 150 days just in case, because I thought that there’s a very slim chance that this could happen, and it did. I caught a lot of fish too. I left South America with about 350 litres of water, and I also had a desalination pump that turns saltwater into fresh. I was rationing to two litres a day, which was really challenging. By the end of the journey, it was so hot that I just couldn’t manage on just two litres a day, so I had to pump for about half an hour each day to get more fresh water to drink.”

Tom encountered rough seas soon after leaving Peru. “I think on day five or six, it was pretty rough. At that point, the boat was heavy because there was five months’ worth of food aboard and so, she wasn’t really riding the waves as I would’ve liked. That was pretty scary. You wedge yourself inside the cabin and the boat’s rocking around and waves are crashing everywhere. Yeah, that’s pretty full on,” says Tom.

Around day 65, the wind was blowing around 25 knots, -nothing too unusual, when out of nowhere, Tom turned and saw a huge wave coming towards him. There was nothing he could do but let go of the oars and hold onto the side of the boat. “I just held on for dear life and this huge wave just broke over the boat. Thankfully, I managed to stay on board and the boat didn’t capsize, which was really lucky, it came close. It was really frightening because it came out of nowhere and it was very unexpected. So, I lost my nerve there for a little while though.”

Tom was able to stay in touch with home via his satellite phone and he occasionally encountered other vessels on the high seas including the jumbo squid fishing fleet off Ecuador.

“The most notable ships I saw were when I was south of the Galapagos Islands, -a few hundred miles south-, and I passed north of the squid fishing fleet. There are hundreds of squid fishing boats out there. And so, at night, the whole horizon was aglow. And it was really strange for me because I didn’t know what it was, this sort of huge, bright, massive light on the horizon.”

On day 49 a big tuna fishing ship spotted Tom. They lowered a speedboat and two Ecuadorian fishermen sped over to Maiwar, but they didn’t speak English and Tom’s Spanish wasn’t too good either. “But I rubbed my belly to say I was hungry, so they came back with all this food. There was tuna, but the rest of the food wasn’t great. I got strawberry jam, I got Powerade, I got cigarettes, I got all these things I didn’t need. That was really funny,” he says.

Apart from those rare human encounters, Tom was alone for five months. “I find solitude leads to real contentment. I don’t miss anything at home, or even civilisation itself. I find I’m completely at peace when I am alone at sea,” he says.

Tom has already completed arguably the most perilous sector of his grand adventure having completed a 5000 nautical mile non-stop traverse of the most remote stretch of the Pacific Ocean. The next stage will see him island hop through Oceania before making a final ocean crossing back to Australia in late 2023.

How does Tom see the next few months unfolding?

“I’m really at the mercy of the wind and the currents when I’m at sea so I’m never nearly exactly sure where I’m going to end up or which island I’m going to get to. But I do think that eventually I’ll end up back in Australia somewhere. And between here and Australia, there’s lots of islands. In the first half of the Pacific I just crossed, there’s nothing. But from here on in there’s heap of islands. And so, I’m hoping to stop, have fun, meet people and explore and experience new cultures. The first half was hard and the second half’s also going to be hard, but more interesting.”

Quick stats and facts:

• Tom Robinson is 23 years old

• Distance Tom will row: 8000 nautical miles (14816 kilometres)

• He will become the youngest person to row across the Pacific Ocean

• The current record is held by Briton Sylvia Cook who did it with her partner John Fairfax in 1972 when she was 32 years old

• Only twelve people have rowed solo across the Pacific Ocean, only four have departed from South America

• His boat is called Maiwar, an Indigenous word for the Brisbane River where Tom spent his youth

• Maiwar is only 24 feet long (7.31 metres)

• Maiwar took five months to build

• Maiwar has a cabin with a single bunk, a galley and a navigation station

• Maiwar is self-righting, should she capsize

You can follow Tom’s adventure via his website and you can also help Tom achieve his ambitious goal with a cash donation through his GoFundMe portal also accessible from his website homepage.

The Australian Geographic Society is one of Tom’s sponsors and we will be following his progress during 2023 here on the website and in the magazine. Stay tuned.

Related: World beater: Aussie solo sailor Lisa Blair shares her story

The post Tom Robinson shares epic tales from first leg of world record-breaking solo journey appeared first on Australian Geographic.

It was previously thought to be extinct, until a tiny population was discovered in 1994 at Two Peoples Bay Nature Reserve, Western Australia.

Because of its sensitive nature and extremely restricted diet of native truffles, Gilbert’s potoroos don’t do well in captivity. So the creation of safe haven populations is the only way to increase their numbers.

They’re threatened by fire, feral predators, inadequate gene flow between the populations and climate change.

Your donation will help the Gilbert’s Potoroo Action Group support critical recovery actions undertaken by scientists and volunteers to help this species survive.

You can make a difference. Please make a tax deductible donation today. Donate.

The post Help save the Gilbert’s potoroo from extinction appeared first on Australian Geographic.

We honour them all:

Related: Australian Geographic Society Gala Awards 2022: Lifetime of Conservation, John Wamsley OAM

Related: Australian Geographic Society Gala Awards 2022: Lifetime of Adventure, Dr Geoff Wilson

Related: Australian Geographic Society Gala Awards 2022: Adventurer of the Year, Lisa Blair

Related: Australian Geographic Society Gala Awards 2022: Conservationist of the Year, Linda Sparrow

Related: Australian Geographic Society Gala Awards 2022: Spirit of Adventure, Sophie Matterson

Related: Australian Geographic Society Gala Awards 2022: Young Conservationist of the Year, Dr Anika Molesworth

Related: Australian Geographic Society Gala Awards 2022: Young Adventurer of the Year, Gabby Kanizay

The post Heroes all: Meet the 2022 Australian Geographic Society Gala Award winners appeared first on Australian Geographic.

Lisa quickly became hooked on sailing. By 2008, she completed her first ocean passage, spending three months at sea as part of a crew delivering a yacht to Hawaii. The following year, she worked as a host for Paragon Sailing, assisting charters between Maui and Lanai islands in Hawaii. In 2011, she became a crew member in the Clipper Round the World Yacht Race, working as a watch leader, bowman, rigger, and helmsman.

“The race was one of the hardest challenges I’d ever done,” Lisa says. “It was something I never thought I was capable of, until I had achieved it.”

The Clipper Round the World Yacht Race proved to be a formative experience for Lisa, prompting ideas of other ways to challenge herself and test the boundaries of her ability.

“I couldn’t see a more difficult way of sailing a boat than to sail it solo, because when you have crew, you have support and people to rely on,” she says. “I decided that solo sailing would be an interesting challenge and a unique way for me to learn [by being] self-reliant.”

After years of planning and preparation, Lisa embarked on her first major solo voyage in 2017, becoming the first woman to sail solo around Antarctica. Despite her initial goal to circumnavigate the continent non-stop and unassisted, a dramatic dismasting at sea threatened these plans – and her life.

Lisa was 72 days into the expedition when rigging failure caused her mast to collapse during a storm. Unsure whether she would survive the night, Lisa spent four hours battling with the boat, desperately struggling to free the rigging while blinded by violent winds and afflicted by the onset of hypothermia. Her yacht, Climate Action Now, was rocked by waves taller than a two-storey building, whose aggressive motion caused the mast to begin sawing the boat in half.  

Having saved her yacht and self-treated her hypothermia, Lisa diverted north to Cape Town under an active Pan-Pan distress signal. She was given fuel from a container ship, however the 80,000-tonne vessel collided with her 11-tonne yacht during the fuel transfer. Lisa built a jury rig and arrived into port at Cape Town after 81 days at sea. Climate Action Now spent two months on land, undergoing repairs, before Lisa recommenced her voyage. She completed the final leg of her Antarctica circumnavigation and sailed back into WA on 25 July 2017.

Despite the traumatic ordeal of the dismasting at sea, the following year Lisa claimed a new world record by becoming the first woman to sail solo, non-stop, and unassisted around Australia. Departing from Sydney on 20 October 2018, the voyage spanned 6500 nautical miles (nm) and took 58 days, 2 hours and 25 minutes to complete. 

“Surprisingly enough, [Australia] was technically a more difficult record than Antarctica,” says Lisa. “There are all sorts of different boats around Australia; there’s commercial shipping, small fishing tinnies, kayaks and ocean rowers. As a solo sailor, it’s still my responsibility to keep a good look out to avoid hitting any of those boats.”

For the entire duration of her voyage – 58 days at sea – Lisa’s sleeping schedule was reduced to 20-minute microsleeps.

“Because you’re so sleep deprived, it can be really easy to make an error,” Lisa explains. “That error could cost you the boat, your life, any number of things. Whereas Antarctica is open ocean; there’s icebergs and massive storms that come through, but there’s very little traffic and not alot to hit.”

With another world record under her belt, Lisa was determined to take on Antarctica once more and claim the speed record for the fastest, non-stop and unassisted circumnavigation of Antarctica. She departed Albany on 21 Feburary 2022. By day 28, she took the lead from Fedor Konyukhov’s 2008 record, and maintained in first place for the rest of the voyage. By the time she returned to Albany on 25 May, Lisa had shaved a total of 10 days off Fedor’s record.

“This record is the single greatest thing I’ve done so far,” says Lisa. “With that in mind, this is going to be my new benchmark for what I can achieve in life. I can only make it greater from here.”

To date, Lisa has sailed more than 110,000 nautical miles. She has written a book about her first Antarctica voyage, called Facing Fear. Despite the extreme sleep deprivation, social isolation and intense stress of life-threatening situations, adventure continues to beckon for Lisa.

“That sense of freedom is a huge part of why I want to do it,” she says. “It’s also now become so much more about the good I can do through the platform of ocean sailing. It’s the citizen science work, it’s the climate action campaign, it’s the inspiring of the next generation of women sailors, it’s the community activation that I get through my projects. The more voice I can generate, the more good I can do.”

On board her boat, Climate Action Now, Lisa collected oceanographic data, meteorological data and microplastic samples for researchers at the Australian Institute of Marine Science. This data is currently being processed by researchers but will become globally available in the coming months.

Related: Heroes all: Meet the 2022 Australian Geographic Society Gala Award winners

The post Australian Geographic Society Gala Awards 2022: Adventurer of the Year, Lisa Blair appeared first on Australian Geographic.

But it’s his desert crossings – in hot and cold climates – for which Geoff is most famous. He has traversed Antarctica, the Sahara Desert, Greenland and even parts of the Australian outback on his kiteboard, collecting six world records on the way. These include the only wind-assisted crossing of the Sahara Desert (2009), the fastest solo, unsupported crossing of Antarctica (2013–14), the fastest unsupported south to north crossing of Greenland (2017), and the first crossing of the Torres Strait by kiteboard (2012). 

Geoff’s fascination with human endurance fuels his adventurous streak.

“Resilience is not innate, it’s a learned behaviour,” he says. “You can discipline yourself to be more resilient over time.” 

Geoff says that on every one of these journeys he reaches a point where things begin to look impossible. At that point he must then decide to either keep pushing or turn around and accept defeat. 

“There’s always something you don’t expect,” he says. “That’s the whole nature of adventure; it’s a series of mishaps that you’d never predicted.”

In 2019–20, Geoff embarked on the longest solo, unsupported polar journey in human history. Departing from Thor’s Hammer on 9 November, near Russia’s Novolazarevskaya Station in Antarctica, he kite-skied 5600km to the Lenin bust at the Pole of Inaccessibility and back again. He claimed another world record en route by becoming the first unsupported person to summit Dome Argus, the highest point on the Antarctic Plateau with a surface elevation of 4093m. 

In the hostile extremes of Antarctica, Geoff suffered from oxygen deprivation, hypothermia and hallucinations. But these were only part of the ordeal. The most heart-wrenching moment of the expedition occurred when Geoff strayed into a crevasse field, just two days before the end of his journey.

“I had to cross 42 crevasses solo,” says Geoff. “Any one of those bridges could’ve given up and I would’ve fallen to my death. It was a two-and-a-half-hour period of extreme anxiety and stress, trying not to make a mistake.” 

A lifetime of adventuring means Geoff has had his fair share of near-death encounters, from malevolent Arctic storms to charging grizzly bears in Alaska. One of his most harrowing experiences occurred in his 2013–14 Antarctic expedition. Just three days into the journey, he became trapped in a storm. The storm raged for four continuous days, with winds peaking at 200km/h and a windchill of –47°C. The storm might have been a low point of Geoff’s adventuring career, but there have also been incredible highs. 

To raise awareness for the McGrath Foundation breast cancer charity, Geoff’s 2013–14 Antarctic expedition was completed on a “boob sled”, photographs of which made headlines around the world.

But not everything Geoff does is for the limelight. In August this year Geoff spent 12 days guiding his kite-buggy 570km across the Simpson Desert. It was his third attempt in 11 years. For Geoff, it was a personal vendetta against the desert, and he completed the crossing with little media scrutiny. With a variable and fickle wind, lack of water resupply and large dunes to navigate by kite, Geoff describes it as one of the most difficult terrains he’s ever crossed. 

Geoff does not plan to retire from his adventuring any time soon. His next endeavour will take him to the Arctic, on a net zero carbon emission vessel that is wind- and solar-powered, to raise awareness of climate change and its current impact on  Earth’s most-fragile environments. 

Related: Heroes all: Meet the 2022 Australian Geographic Society Gala Award winners

The post Australian Geographic Society Gala Awards 2022: Lifetime of Adventure, Dr Geoff Wilson appeared first on Australian Geographic.

Preparing for an Everest expedition is no small feat, especially with an upbringing in Melbourne. After mentioning her dream to her parents, Gabby spent the next four years making regular trips to Nepal to familiarise herself with the landscape, develop her mountaineering skills and test her body against the extremes of high altitude. 

In May 2018, Gabby and her mother, Jane, trekked to Everest Base Camp and summited Kala Patthar (5643m). In August the same year, Gabby travelled to New Zealand to complete a mountaineering course, where she learnt rope and harness skills, how to use crampons and ice axes, avalanche safety and other essentials. 

Gabby then began building her mountaineering resumé. In October 2018, she returned to Nepal and summited her first mountain, Imja Tse (Island Peak), with an elevation of 6160m. The following May, she climbed Mera Peak (6476m) and Mt Baruntse West Col (6200m). By September, she claimed her first world record by becoming the youngest woman to summit Cho Oyu (8488m), the world’s sixth-tallest mountain. 

Cho Oyu was Gabby’s first “Eight Thousander” – a mountain with an elevation greater than 8000m. At such extreme altitudes, oxygen is only 34 per cent the concentration it is on the ground.   Gabby was ready to summit Everest in 2020, but the COVID pandemic delayed these plans. Once travel restrictions lifted, Gabby and her mother travelled to Kathmandu in March 2022, spending a week in Nepal’s capital to meet the team and organise gear. On 3 April, they began their two-week trek to Base Camp, making a detour along the way to do a false summit of Lobuche (6119m). 

Gabby spent a month acclimatising to the high altitude at base camp, doing two rotations through the icefall before the final summit push. She says she fared well against the high altitude, suffering only minor altitude sickness. 

“On the first rotation, I had semi-intense headaches which affected how I slept at night,” Gabby says. “That’s pretty normal – most people are going to have a headache. But aside from that, I was completely fine; I didn’t lose my appetite, on the bigger rotations I didn’t really get headaches and I didn’t have trouble sleeping. My mum probably suffered a little bit more.” 

Gabby and Jane reached the summit at 4.45am on Saturday 14 May 2022. “The sun was rising, and it was just the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Gabby says. “It was a really emotional moment for both of us.” 

Gabby cherishes the fact she was able to share this moment with her mum. High-altitude climbing can be unpredictable, with altitude sickness, coordination of leaving times and other variables to be considered.

“Ever since we started planning the expedition, especially after we summited Cho Oyu, we just admitted to ourselves that we wouldn’t be able to stand on the summit together,” Gabby says. “But everything just came together and our amazing Sherpa guides timed it perfectly.”  

Related: Heroes all: Meet the 2022 Australian Geographic Society Gala Award winners

The post Australian Geographic Society Gala Awards 2022: Young Adventurer of the Year, Gabby Kanizay appeared first on Australian Geographic.

Sophie discovered her passion for working with camels in 2016 when she took a hiatus from her media career to milk camels at a dairy on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast. 

“Camels are amazing to work with,” says Sophie. “They’re intelligent, they’ve got amazing memories and they can also be very affectionate. If you treat them well and with kindness, they are incredibly willing and compliant for such large animals.”

With her newfound love of camels, Sophie travelled overseas. In 2017 she went to the USA to milk camels on a Mennonite family farm in Michigan. In Texas, Sophie worked under Doug Baum, a cameleer who runs historical camel tours and hosts the International Camel Conference. From there, she went to Rajasthan in India to stay with Raika nomads.

In 2018 she returned to Australia and ran camel tours in the Flinders Rangers and at Uluru. Here, the crazy idea – to one day trek right across Australia with a band of camels – began to take shape. 

“Camels just make sense for a crossing of Australia,” says Sophie. “They are so well adapted to our landscape; they can go an incredibly long time without water and basically survive on whatever feed is available.” 

In January 2019, five feral camels were spotted at Mulga Park station, south-east of Uluru. Sophie and her team pursued the camels on four-wheel-drives and motorbikes, pushing them into cattleyards during a bumpy, hair-raising ride through spinifex country. The mustered camels were named Jude, Delilah, Clayton, Charlie and Mac. 

Sophie spent the next year training the camels to sit on command, wear a halter, walk in a straight line and become accustomed to carrying weight on their backs. It was a learning curve for Sophie, too, getting to know each camel’s unique quirks and personality. 

When not training her camels, Sophie was poring over maps, arranging permits, contacting station owners to obtain permission to cross their lands and creating a giant navigational sheet that stipulated every detail, from water drops to roads.

Sophie and her five camels set off from Shark Bay, Western Australia, in April 2020, walking from the Indian Ocean to Coober Pedy, South Australia. She and her camels rested over the summer months, resuming their trek in May 2021.

Sophie completed most of the trek alone. For a 1350km stretch on the Anne Beadell Highway, an unsealed road connecting Laverton to Coober Pedy, her only social contact was during water drops from the Indigenous community at Oak Valley. 

“Walking at night in the Great Victoria Desert was just magical,” says Sophie. “I felt like I was the only person on earth with my camels. It was eerie, but beautiful at the same time.”

Sophie viewed the deserted roads of the COVID lockdowns as an an advantage. 

“To begin with, the camels spooked at everything – a building, a piece of shade cloth, a shed, a water tank. A lot of their training just came from pure experience,” she says. By the time she reached the east coast, the camels were sharing main roads with cars, and were comfortable with people crowding around and touching them. 

Sophie and her entourage of camels arrived at Byron Bay’s Tyagarah Beach in December 2021.    

Related: Heroes all: Meet the 2022 Australian Geographic Society Gala Award winners

The post Australian Geographic Society Gala Awards 2022: Spirit of Adventure, Sophie Matterson appeared first on Australian Geographic.

“I became really aware about the impact humans are having on the environment and started to learn more about this concept of climate change,” she says. “Our natural resources are precious and finite. If we’re using them unwisely – if we’re extracting, consuming, wasting – then that’s eroding the foundation of the farming system.” 

Anika has a Bachelor of Science and Agribusiness, a Masters in Sustainable Agriculture and a PhD in Agricultural and Environmental Science. For her Masters degree, Anika travelled to Laos to study Southeast Asian farmer perceptions of climate change and how integrated livestock and crop systems can be used to manage resources more wisely. Her PhD explored organic soil amendments and ways to improve soil fertility and moisture, to help understand how natural resources can be optimised for use as a substitute for synthetic fertilisers. As a case study, Anika examined poultry manure in cotton crops in NSW, and rice straws, cattle manure and biochar in maize systems in Cambodia. 

Anika’s research in international agricultural development has taken her all over the world, but despite the international scope of her research, she remains firmly tied to her roots. When not working on her family’s sheep station or travelling the world as a researcher, Anika is advocating for climate-change action and environmental conservation. She might be young, but she has become one of Australia’s leading voices on sustainable farming and food security. 

Anika was awarded the 2015 Young Farmer of the Year and the 2017 NSW Young Achiever Award for Environment and Sustainability. She presented at TEDxYouth@Sydney and was awarded the Young Sustainability Champion. She is a founding director of Farmers for Climate Action and creator of Climate Wise Agriculture, a knowledge-sharing platform addressing the way food systems around the world are being impacted by climate change. 

When asked what she’s most proud of, Anika cites being part of the farming community. “Farmers have this amazing attitude,” she says. “They get up every day and face a new challenge. They don’t sit back or point fingers or wait for someone else to do something. I draw so much energy and strength from being part of this farming community, these people who live in far-flung places – rural environments – and all the challenges that come with that.”  

Related: Heroes all: Meet the 2022 Australian Geographic Society Gala Award winners

The post Australian Geographic Society Gala Awards 2022: Young Conservationist of the Year, Dr Anika Molesworth appeared first on Australian Geographic.

The biggest threat to koalas is habitat loss. Bangalow Koalas’ wildlife corridor will stabilise and increase koala populations by expanding and linking sections of habitat from Byron Bay and surrounds. Despite their initial goal to plant 100,000 trees by the end of 2025, this figure was replaced by 500,000 in the wake of the Black Summer bushfires of 2019–20. 

Now, with the backing of community volunteers, landholders, NGOs, and local, state, and federal governments, Bangalow Koalas’ wildlife corridor has expanded west towards Tenterfield, south towards Grafton and north towards the Queensland border.

Since 2019, Bangalow Koalas has planted 215,160 trees on 63 properties across four shires in northern NSW. “Considering that we’re just a tiny community organisation, we never envisioned we would be where we are today,”
says Linda. 

It’s been a tough year for Bangalow Koalas, with La Niña rains flooding properties and destroying tree saplings. Despite these obstacles, the organisation is currently on track to plant 80,000 trees this year. Over the next three years, Bangalow Koalas must plant 90,000 trees per year to reach their goal by the end of 2025. 

“Koalas don’t have the liberty of time. We’ve only got a short period to turn this around, so we’ve got to work hard to do it now,” Linda says. “They are the most iconic animal in Australia and they’re known around the world. If we can’t save koalas, then there really isn’t any hope for any other wildlife.” 

Although koalas are the poster child of the organisation, this wildlife corridor is creating an ecosystem that will support up to 15 significant species and ecological communities. Linda and her team are planting trees that will support glossy black-cockatoos, grey-headed flying-foxes, native bees, reptiles, possums and other native fauna, including critically endangered trees. 

After the Black Summer bushfires, there has been a surge in volunteers. Linda says the community support is there; the only thing stopping them putting more trees in the ground is funding. 

“We’re just trying to get people to be more aware of koalas,” says Linda. “The more you involve the community, the better chance koalas have actually got.” 

Linda organises everything from sourcing trees and seedlings to weed control, maintenance and arranging community plantings. She runs workshops with landholders, presents at conferences and hosts educational workshops. With her weekends spent at fundraisers and community plantings, Linda admits it’s more work than a full-time job. “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life,” she says. “There’s a lot of blood, sweat and tears in this job. But it’s also really rewarding when you stand up on the top of a hill and look down at all the corridors you’ve created. You’ve got to be passionate, you’ve got to be dedicated and not be afraid of hard work, but you can make a difference. We can all make a difference.” 

Related: Heroes all: Meet the 2022 Australian Geographic Society Gala Award winners

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I never really knew what that would mean for me. And I never understood the power of fear or the after-effects of a traumatic event until I was forced to survive one in the Southern Ocean, 1000 nautical miles (nm) (1852km) from land, alone, and in a storm the size of a cyclone. It was 2017 and I was sailing my 50-foot yacht Climate Action Now solo around Antarctica, attempting to become the first woman ever to complete the trip below 45°S. I was also sailing with the secondary goal of breaking the established record of 102 days, set by Russian sailor Fedor Konyukhov. Three-quarters of the way around Antarctica, on Day 72, in storm conditions, my 22m-long mast came crashing down at sunset. One of the stays had broken due to an unknown electrolysis issue, causing me to dismast.

The mast was violently pushed and shoved by waves the size of a two-storey building, and 45-knot (83km/h) winds were blinding me. The aggressive motion caused the mast to begin sawing the boat in half; time was running out and rescue wasn’t an option. Hypothermia set in as I struggled on the pitching, rolling deck to free the rigging. Soon I was questioning if I’d survive the next five minutes, let alone the night.

It was four hours until I managed to get the boat safe enough to ride out the storm. The next day I diverted to South Africa’s Cape Town. Two months later I restarted my record before finally sailing back to Australia to be acknowledged as the first woman to sail solo around Antarctica with one stop. The experience had a lasting effect on my sailing. It changed my relationship with my boat and the sea and I spent years working to overcome it.

Five years later I finally felt ready to take on the Southern Ocean again. But to give myself the best chance of success and peace of mind at sea, I needed to know Climate Action Now was prepared to the highest level. This meant a six-month refit during COVID, working with shipwrights, stripping everything from the boat and inspecting and repairing sections of the hull before rebuilding. 

For the past eight years, I’ve been collecting Post-it Notes from the community. Each describes an environmental action on something their writers are already doing to make a better future. They contain messages such as “Sally has short showers” or “Bob picks up rubbish off the beach”. These are transformed into a digital design, so my whole yacht is then wrapped in thousands of community actions. The campaign’s goal is to inspire: “As individuals, we all have the power to create change. It just starts with one action.” 

Adding to this, I partnered with several scientific groups, planning to undertake oceanic research around Antarctica. I committed to gathering 24/7 ocean-water readings on features such as salinity, dissolved CO₂, chlorophyll, and bio-optics. I planned to collect microplastic samples, and meteorological data to assist with global weather modelling by deploying drifter buoys to take barometric readings and measurements of temperature, wind strength and direction, air pressure and humidity. By logging depths, I’d also assist with sea-floor mapping. 

Finally, on 21 February 2022, it was time to depart. I was filled with mixed emotions; one part of me was ready to get going, but the other side was wondering if I’d make it home again. And all the while I knew I’d be leaving anyway. The record started out of Princess Royal Harbour, Albany, in Western Australia with a lively 30-knot (55km/h) easterly wind building up a short choppy swell, making the sailing uncomfortable. I was just excited to be finally leaving again and felt strong, both mentally and physically. Now I just had the short task of sailing solo around Antarctica.

I had to sail to a waypoint at 45°S to enter the “racetrack” before I could turn left and aim for Tasmania. Mild wind conditions made this section of the voyage extremely frustrating. For a solo sailor, it’s more exhausting to sail in light winds than through storms. The autopilot struggles to hold course, so you end up on deck, hand-steering and changing sails as winds swing around you. It becomes exhausting. Added to that, I was behind Fedor Konyukhov’s record.

I crossed onto the official racetrack on Day 6 and started sailing east, across the Southern Ocean. I was getting regular storms, although nothing too dramatic at this point. 

On Day 28 I finally took the lead from Fedor. Now all I needed to do was maintain my speed at a fraction faster than his record for the rest of the voyage and I’d finish in front.

On Day 32, after being at sea for just over a month, I sailed through a place called Point Nemo, otherwise known as the Oceanic Pole of Inaccessibility. This is a virtual waypoint in the ocean that marks the furthest place from land anywhere in the world. It’s the most remote location in the ocean. When passing through here I was 1500 nautical miles (nm) from the nearest piece of land, the uninhabited Ducie Island – one of the Pitcairn group. I was nearer to astronauts on the International Space Station than to any human on Earth.

Shortly after, I faced my first truly extreme conditions on this voyage. The weather patterns turned and I was slammed by four major storms, each one the size of a cyclone or hurricane, together spanning more than 1000nm – across the whole of my racetrack. With no place to hide I had no options but to go through the middle and hope we – Climate Action Now and I – were strong enough to come out the other side. 

The third storm was the worst. My storm sails were up and I was inside the boat where I’m less vulnerable to injury. I was sitting in my navigation area, which is the boat’s smallest area. I could hear the wind roaring. The waves were forecast to build past 8m in height. Imagine a two-storey building as a wave. 

We took several knockdowns where Climate Action Now was slammed by a wave so aggressively that the mast had gone into the water as we flipped on our side. Then, just as I was finishing dinner, the real storm hit. The sound of the wind began exploding around me at deafening levels and I was bracing for things to get much worse. 

I soon felt Climate Action Now being lifted by an enormous wave. Up we went, and just as we were reaching the wave’s crest it broke. Metres of white water slammed into the hull, like a freight train, and threw us sideways to the trough. We lay wallowing on our side, as the rest of the wave caught up to and started to roll us. 

Bracing inside, with my heart racing, we were flipped almost completely upside down before we started to right again. A quick glance around revealed the cabin had been destroyed and anything not tied down was now in a heap. I scrambled up to check I still had a mast standing and stood shaking while I waited for the adrenaline to pass before starting to clean up. That night we were struck twice more. The violence of these knockdowns is so great you never quite know if the mast will survive. Finally, the storms broke just in time for me to sail around Cape Horn. 

These storms travel across the oceans right around the world while gaining strength; Cape Horn is the only place they reach land. At the very bottom of South America, it’s considered one of the most dangerous sections of coast to sail around – the Everest of sailing challenges. 

To sail solo around Cape Horn is a huge achievement and I was lucky to make a safe rounding when conditions were gale strength but manageable. That was a day of milestones: I saw land for the first time in 45 days and also my first ship in that time, as well as safely rounding Cape Horn. But the really good news was that I was more than 500nm ahead of Fedor at that stage. 

With Cape Horn behind me, I began sailing across the South Atlantic Ocean. My next challenge was to pass Iceberg Alley, around South Georgia and the South Sandwich Islands. There, the polar convergence line, where warm tropical waters meet cold Antarctic waters, pushes further north creating an increase in icebergs. Remember,
I’m on a fibreglass boat. To safely sail through the area, I was receiving satellite readings that would allow me to set exclusion zones around any known icebergs and then I would use a combination of radar and my sea temperature alarm to spot anything else. 

It wasn’t a perfect system and I ended up spending several days sleeping at my navigation table for 10-minute intervals so I could check the radar for ice. But I was able to safely sail through despite dense fog.

The South Atlantic was basically one big storm with conditions generating lots of squalls – small low-pressure systems creating intense winds for a short time before dumping rain. Average wind speeds were 30 knots (55km/h) so my sails were set for this. 

When a squall hit, I’d have to race on deck and shorten the sails to match the 50-knot (92km/h) wind bursts. At those times the ocean would turn into a boiling mess of wind and sea spray before dumping snow, sleet and hail. My hands would be in agony, burning from the cold, but in 30 minutes the squall would pass and I’d then need to go on deck to increase my sail area again.

It was exhausting. The snowstorms and squalls continued for more than two weeks, adding to my fatigue. I was also starting to see an increase in repairs needed with the toll of sailing around Antarctica showing on the boat. 

Add extreme sleep deprivation to this, plus the fact I was about to sail back through the place where I demasted last time, and I was reaching breaking point. 

On Day 62 it all came crashing down around me as I entered a new storm system. My body wasn’t coping with the conditions, and I was struggling to get warm. I’d been shivering uncontrollably for hours in my bunk and only managed two hours of sleep in 50. 

After weeks of minimal sleep, I broke. Nothing was particularly wrong, but I became a sobbing mess, crying in a heap on the floor and couldn’t seem to control it. I clearly needed rest, so after making porridge and changing over the microplastic sample I went to bed to try to get some. But 20 minutes later we were slammed by a 12m wave – that’s the height of a five-storey building. Climate Action Now was flipped upside down and I was thrown into the bunk above me. 

So much water was engulfing us that my ears popped from the pressure. Heart in mouth, I waited for the sound of my mast snapping to reach me but somehow it held.

When we righted, I got out of my bunk and noticed the wave had ripped out my washboard and flooded the boat with 20 buckets of water. My batteries were almost completely flooded so I madly started to bail. Then we were struck by a second wave and again by a third. I abandoned my bailing to get on deck and make the boat safer. The forecast was for 6m waves but I was getting a bad cross swell generating double that. 

With my life jacket on and tethered to the boat, I went on deck and was eventually able to manoeuvre the boat into the hove to position, a survival tactic that stalls the sails out to allow for a sideways drift. 

My breath stalled too, in my chest, as I looked at the ocean raging around me. I was no longer looking across the tops of the waves: instead, I needed to crane my neck back to look up at this skyscraper of water bearing down on me. 

Thankfully, I was able to make it through this storm with little damage and finish sailing across the South Indian Ocean. Every few days, I continued sailing through stormy conditions, and with every slam of Climate Action Now I’d tense up. 

Because of last time, I never really let myself believe I could do this. So this time it wasn’t until I actually crossed my outgoing track below 45°S that I truly started to believe I was going to set this new record. 

On 25 May 2022, with a rainbow overhead and a beautiful new day dawning, we finally sailed across the finish line and into Albany, making me the fastest person ever to sail solo, non-stop and unassisted around Antarctica, crossing all tracks below 45°S. I’d sailed more than 16,500nm (30,500km) across the world’s most dangerous oceans in a record 92 days, 18 hours, 21 minutes and 20 seconds, shaving almost 10 days off Fedor’s time. I collected more than 180 microplastic samples, deployed eight autonomous weather drifter buoys and one Argo research float and gathered 24/7 ocean health data. 

Just as importantly, I sailed Climate Action Now’s message to the world. 

Related: Australian Geographic Society Gala Awards 2022: Adventurer of the Year, Lisa Blair

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The main threat they face stems from the fragmentation of their habitat. 

This is compounded by the loss of trees with suitable hollows for nesting and the loss of food sources in the flowering mid-storey shrubs. Barbed wire fences and uncontrolled domestic and wild cats have also contributed to their endangered status. Squirrel gliders were devastated by the 2020 bushfires too. Aussie Ark will build back squirrel glider populations with a holistic approach including nesting boxes, food source tree planting and feral management/exclusion.

Make a difference. Please make a tax deductible donation today.

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The discovery of a small population in western Victoria drastically changed the trajectory of the species. From that wild population, many hundreds have been bred in captivity and released into predator-free ecosystems, including Odonata’s keystone sanctuary, Mount Rothwell.

Thanks to the work of Odonata and their volunteers and partners, the bandicoot’s status was changed in 2021 in Victoria from extinct in the wild to endangered. Your donation will help efforts to breed and strengthen populations so more animals can be released into predator-free zones, and so that one day they can thrive beyond the fence once more.

Donate below.

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Odonata’s sanctuary, Mount Rothwell, is home to a population of southern brush-tailed rock wallabies and it was here that other evacuated populations were moved to. A philanthropist has now offered the embattled species another lifeline with a 600ha property near Avenel in Victoria. 

Renamed Widgewah Conservation Reserve, this sanctuary is being managed by Odonata in preparation to welcome its first rock-wallabies from Mount Rothwell in 2022 with 90ha set aside to support 200 animals. This is a significant step in supporting this species. However, by spreading populations across several productive wildlife sanctuaries there is a strong support system in place that will hopefully allow this species to grow and flourish.

The post Help our fragile southern brush-tailed rock-wallabies beat extinction appeared first on Australian Geographic.

With support from the Rottnest Foundation, The Rottnest Island Environment team monitor the Island’s quokka population to help detect changes, which may signal the need for management actions. However, the size of the island makes it challenging to monitor large parts of the quokkas’ habitat.

Your support will help purchase remote cameras, which will enable the continuous 24/7 monitoring of large areas of the Island, helping to ensure quokkas are protected and visitors to the island can still enjoy these magic encounters.

Donate now.

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The AG Society supports conservation and natural heritage projects, scientific endeavours, and Australian adventurers as they achieve the seemingly impossible. The AG Society is also is also involved in fundraising, events, annual awards nights and scientific expeditions to remote areas.

If you are a subscriber of the Australian Geographic magazine you automatically become a member of the Australian Geographic Society.

PATRON – Dick Smith AC

DIRECTORS of the Australian Geographic Society

David Haslingden (Chair)
Peter Anderson
Page Henty

SECRETARY to the Australian Geographic Society

Caroline Fitzgerald

SPONSORSHIP, FUNDRAISING & ADMINISTRATION of the Australian Geographic Society

ADVISORY COMMITTEE to the Australian Geographic Society

• Chrissie Goldrick (Chair)
• Chris Bray
• John Leece AM
• Tim Jarvis AM
• Robert Purves AM
• Anna Rose
• Heather Swan
• Todd Tai

MAJOR SUPPORTERS

Australian Geographic Holdings Pty Ltd

Australian Geographic magazine subscribers are important Society supporters. Without your support, the Society could not continue its vital work. You can subscribe online or call 1300 555 176.

FUNDRAISING

The AG Society is involved in special fundraising efforts bimonthly for a specific project, mainly focusing around saving an endangered species. We always welcome donations to help support Society projects. Donate here.

SOCIETY EXPEDITIONS

Each year the AG Society endorses a number of tours run by tour companies across Australia and around the world. These expeditions have a little extra something and are usually hosted by an AG Society representative, like one of our Advisory Council members, or by an adventurer or AG Society awardee.

SOCIETY EVENTS

The annual awards night is the Society’s premier fundraising event each year and brings together the best and brightest in adventure, exploration and conservation – the men and women whose exploits have provided so many highlights in the pages of the Australian Geographic magazine. The AG Society is also involved in occasional lectures, documentary screenings and social gatherings which showcase the AG Society and the passionate people it supports. For more information on our awards night and past award winners visit our About the AG awards page.

For current AGS events, visit our events page.

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Australian Geographic contributes 100% of its profits to the Australian Geographic Society, including its conservation and sustainability programs. 
 
We seek to inspire Australians to love and care for our country and through the support of the Australian Geographic Society, empower individuals and organisations to tackle environmental challenges and find innovative solutions to the many threats faced by our natural world. 
 
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Aussie Ark aims to proactively protect this species from extinction before the last of the remnant populations disappear. Founding individuals of rufous bettong will be placed into individual captive facilities – large enclosures spread across all Aussie Ark’s sanctuaries. The project will see the re-wilding of rufous bettongs amongst NSW, creating a robust insurance population for the endangered species. The end goal is always to keep any species surviving in the wild – this is the long-term vision of Aussie Ark.

Donate now.

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The work at the Forktree Project involves re-establishing tens of thousands of native trees, shrubs and grasses, which will in turn bring back native animals, insects and birds as well as sequester tens of thousands of tonnes of carbon. A native seed nursery and rare seed orchard are also being established.

Importantly, the Forktree Project also aims to increase responsible environmental stewardship in the community through education, inspiration and the modelling of proactive sustainable practices.

The post Help the Forktree Project restore native habitat on the Fleurieu Peninsula appeared first on Australian Geographic.

The Numbat Task Force is monitoring the recovering population in the Dryandra Woodland in Western Australia, one of only two places where the species survives naturally, and a reintroduced population in Dragon Rocks Nature Reserve, 232km east of Dryandra.

Help us raise funds to support this crucial work. It’ll be used to buy sensor cameras and associated equipment, which can detect animals 365 days a year, and also help pay for a flight in a small aircraft to document the survival of radio-collared animals.

Donate here:

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In the hope of reducing these, University of Queensland researchers are investigating factors affecting dugong health.

Your donation will support an annual health assessment program of dugongs living near a major city (Brisbane) to: assess general health and body condition; identify factors that cause chronic stress; measure pollutants that may cause harm; pinpoint factors that may affect their ability to reproduce; and screen for emerging diseases.

Donate below:

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We’re raising funds to restore damaged habitat and for the large-scale planting of drooping she-oaks in the bird’s range on Kangaroo Island and on the Fleurieu Peninsula in SA.

Related: Black cockatoo chicks hatch among burnt habitat

Your donation will help Conservation Volunteers Australia to propagate seedlings and revegetate critical sites on the mainland to create ‘stepping stone’ areas that will encourage flocks to move freely between remaining stands of she-oak.

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The AG Society is raising funds for the purchase of individual trackers so young devils can be monitored after they disappear into the landscape. Already more than 300 devils born in captivity have been raised in this way to foster natural behaviour, helping ensure they maintain the skills needed to survive in the wild.

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But due to the fires there hasn’t been enough natural food available.

Related: A guide to Australia’s possums and gliders

The New South Wales threatened species officers and volunteers have been delivering food and water weekly for the possums since the fires.

Your help is needed to support these food drops continuing into winter, and to provide long-term solutions for the species’ survival such as replanting mountain plum pines, a vital natural food resource.

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Sophie has spent four years learning everything she can about camels and how to train them, spending time in Australia, the USA and India to do so. In January last year, she mustered five wild camels from the Northern Territory and has since been training them to carry her and her supplies and equipment.

“Several other individuals have crossed Australia with camels. However, as far as I’m aware, I’ll be the first woman to do so solo. My journey will likely take me nine months and I’ll traverse some of the most remote reaches of Australia including the Great Victoria, Strzelecki, Tirari and Sturt Stony deserts,” Sophie says.

“It will be a trip that pushes me physically and mentally. I hope the experience will give me a feeling of empowerment and lead me to being more connected to this land I call home.”

Sophie and her five camels (Mac, Delilah, Charlie, Jude and Clayton) will start their journey heading east from Shark Bay in WA and finish in Byron Bay, NSW.

You can follow Sophie’s journey via her website or instagram

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The green raincoat presses against my chest and the loose fabric on the arms flaps with an insistent whir. The extra wide brim attached to the helmet flips up wildly as I lift my chin too high and it catches the wind. I fight it back down. Those words of caution are whipped away as our speed increases.

I don’t hear Hope’s reply. Likely as not she hasn’t said anything at all. But I trust she has both hands on the grips and is ready. The road is cut down into the dolerite and dips even more steeply ahead. As we emerge I can see the long sweeping corner at the bottom of the hill and the gentle incline that follows.

With no oncoming traffic I let the brakes off fully. Our combined weight sits heavily on the 2 inch tyres until gravity lets us rip. The surface of the bitumen isn’t so smooth that you can take your eyes off it for long. One last glance at the speedo shows we’re well over 60 km/hr. The wind hits suddenly from the right flank and we lean into it. Every muscle is tensed, hands gripping, toes clawing, knees locked and shoulders tense. For a wild moment we are going too fast.

Under a bared teeth grimace I let out a long, low whistling, ‘shiiiiiiiiiit’. The cold summer wind draws out tears that go not downwards but backwards to my ears. The descent finally levels out and we begin to slow. 50, 40, 30. Our momentum is enough to take us up the oncoming hill without pedalling. ‘Whoah, that was a fast one dad.’ Hope calls out with enthusiasm. ‘That’s as close as we’ll get to being a jet plane little matey.’ I reply.

“Our journey finished where it began, on our driveway in the rural hamlet of Flowerpot, Tasmania,” Andrew says. “In the intervening 12 months we pedalled some of Australia’s toughest outback roads with our three- and five-year-old children. The spirit of the country and its people seeped into our tired bones as we encountered generosity and hardship in equal measure.”

www.swagfamily.com.au

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Dr Cagnazzi has studied the species at Fitzroy River in Central Queensland for 13 years and this time using drone technology for photos and video and genetic testing, were able to observe young and adult dolphins ‘stranding’ or ‘beaching’ themselves to catch their next meal.

“Strand feeding occurs where dolphins patrol the mud banks in search of a prey; once the prey has been localised a dolphin swims at high speed toward the shore, catches the fish in its mouth and remains stranded for a short time before sliding gently back into the water,” Dr Cagnazzi said.

“This type of feeding is very risky, as dolphins run the risk of remaining stranded, however, since this behaviour is routinely repeated it must provide an important proportion of their daily feeding needs – dolphins must consume 4-6 per cent of their own body weight in fish each day.

“This feeding only occurs at low tide when the mud banks are exposed, therefore, habitat modification change, increasing flood frequency and sedimentation may affect the ability of dolphins to strand feed to provide their daily food needs. This is something we will continue to monitor.”

Dr Cagnazzi said dolphins around the world have shown different feeding strategies and until now strand feeding had been documented in very few locations internationally and primarily to bottlenose dolphins.

The Fitzroy River is the only known location where Australian humpback dolphins are known to display this behaviour reliably.

“This strand feeding behaviour is conducted primarily by a very well-known family group of humpback dolphins who we’ve identified as long-term residents in the Fitzroy River,” he said.

“The number of dolphins involved in a single episode varies from one to two while the rest of the group is busy in other activities and strand feeding can be full body or partial.”

Australian humpback dolphins are listed as ‘Vulnerable’ in Queensland and in the International Union for Conservation of Nature ‘Red List’ of threatened species.

Dr Cagnazzi says relatively little is known about their ecology.

“From here we are aiming to use the analysis of photographic and genetic data to determine if this strand feeding behaviour is culturally transmitted from the mothers to calves,” Dr Cagnazzi said.

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You can help by supporting Aussie Ark in its new project. The Ark is launching the first and largest koala sanctuary in the world. The project aims to alter the declining trajectory of koalas in NSW by protecting up to 7 per cent of the wild population through exclusion fencing.

Donate here:

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A victim of the bushfires, this divine yellow-beliied glider was recently brought into RSPCA Queensland’s Wacol Wildlife Hospital.

Usually elusive and hard to spot in the wild, this poor little lady was found stuck in a barbed wire fence. The team removed the fence from her patagium (wing membrane) and she has been placed on medication and is now living with a wildlife carer for rehab before she can be released.

She’s one of countless animals that have found themselves being cared for at Wacol in Brisbane and the RSPCA Queensland’s other wildlife hospital, at Eumundi.

Koalas Mia and her son Kevin were rescued from a bushfire-affected area near Lake Perserverance, Queensland, by wildlife carer Judi Gray, with the help of a cherry picker provided by Toowoomba Regional Council. They’re both recovering well, as is Michael, 5, who was rescued from fires near Toowoomba in late November. He received third degree burns to all four of his paw pads and to his nose. He was extremely dehydrated and malnourished.

According to RSPCA Queensland CEO Darren Maier, “drought compounded with bushfires has had a detrimental impact on our wildlife. We’re seeing an average of 80-82 new native animals through our Wildlife Hospitals every day. While we fight to save our wildlife, we need your help to ensure they have a future.”

Your donations to the Australian Geographic Bushfire Appeal are helping wildlife like Mia, Kevin and Michael, through RSPCA Queensland.

You can donate to RSPCA Queensland here.

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“The Society hopes these funds can help alleviate some of the heartache being suffered by the many Australians affected by these extreme bushfires, and provide support to the many people working hard to help,” said the Chair of the Australian Geographic Society, David Haslingden.

Australian Geographic’s Managing Director, Ms Jo Runciman, said that in addition to the $50,000 being committed directly to the appeal by the Australian Geographic Society, $1 from every purchase made at the Australian Geographic on-line store until 20 December will be donated to the appeal. “The communities of rural Australia have always been among our biggest supporters and we want to give back to those communities and to those supporting them,” she said.

Visit our store here.

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MAKE A DIFFERENCE. PLEASE DONATE TODAY.

Funds raised will help support Save our Species to protect the glossy black-cockatoo into the future.

Donate now.

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“It was an extraordinary privilege to be able to hold a Tasmania devil!” Victor says. “It’s inspiring to see the work of Tim and his team at Aussie Ark – supported by Australian Geographic – to preserve native species.”

If you’d like to know more about Aussie Ark and the incredible work done there, listen to our Talking Australia podcast with founder Tim Faulkner.

For more on Victor and the 2019 Australian Geographic Society’s 2019 Gala Awards night and award recipients, click here.

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Melbourne-born Nick excelled at sport at his special boarding school for the blind and later at university. He became a marathon runner and has competed in the New York marathon three times. He has represented Australia in athletics in the UK and Hong Kong and at the Paralympics in the USA in 1984, and has represented Victoria in blind cricket. He describes himself as being happiest when running by himself. He describes it as “a wonderful sum of trust plus belief plus danger plus courage.”

In 2002, Nick received the AG Society’s Spirit of Adventure for his climb of Mt Kilimanjaro in Tanzania with his four-person expedition team Blind Ambition. After that achievement, he was adventuring in New Zealand when he had the chance to meet his inspiration and hero Sir Edmund Hillary at Hillary’s own home.

Nick has climbed to 6000 metres on Everest and has crossed the Simpson Desert on foot. In May 2019 he made a solo traverse of Island Lagoon, a dry salt lake bed in South Australia, which he undertook without the assistance of his constant companion, Unity, his dedicated Seeing Eye dog. Nick received encouragement and instructions from his support team via a UHF radio but, apart from that and a sat-phone, he was completely alone for two nights and three days and he carried and set up all his own camping gear. At one stage Nick sank up to his knees in wet sand as unexpected rains softened the otherwise dry lake bed.

Nick’s not just a sportsman and adventurer, he’s also a passionate advocate for the rights of people with disabilities, an in-demand motivational speaker and a gifted writer.

This award is sponsored by

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In February 2019, Michelle Lee became the first Australian woman to row solo across the Atlantic Ocean – a mammoth journey of 4700km.

The 46 year old was competing in the Talisker Whisky Atlantic Challenge, one of the world’s toughest nautical races and the ultimate test in mental and physical strength and endurance.

Michelle set off from La Gomera in the Canary Islands and finished 68 days later, rowing into English Harbour in Antigua in the Caribbean. Throughout the trip she endured extreme conditions, including wild weather and swell, isolation, blisters upon blisters, sea sores and sickness, and sleep deprivation, and lost a whopping 14kg. She rowed from 5am until 10pm each day and at night slept in a small compartment in her boat.

“I had holes in my fingers from gripping the oars and massive callouses on my hands,” Michelle says. “I had sores on my bottom as well from 12 hours in the seat. I had toothaches and ear aches, which I managed to fix with a bit of self-help — three courses of antibiotics. All of it made me realise how vulnerable I was. It was terribly confronting and frightening at times.”

In completing the journey she also became the first Australian woman to row solo across any ocean. While challenging her personal limits was a primary goal, Michelle also set herself the task of raising money for The Sanctuary, a crisis centre in Sydney’s north-west for women and children fleeing domestic violence.

This award is sponsored by

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During the 1970s the fraternal pair became famous through a series of televised adventures such as the high risk Open Boat to Adventure, in which they sailed a small dinghy through some treacherous seas from Darwin to Sydney, Off the Beaten Track and the hugely popular weekly series Ask the Leyland Brothers, which launched in 1976 and drew a weekly audience of 2.5 million people.

In each episode, the two brothers, along with their wives and children in their signature Kombi vans, explored locations suggested by viewers. The public sent them in search of lost monuments, rumoured migratory birds and ephemeral lakes, and revelled in their thrills and spills along the way as they were regularly bogged, stranded, hit by storms and encounters with kangaroos. The whole exercise was filmed and edited in the style of home video.

The British-born Leyland brothers were responsible for inspiring a generation of Australians to get out and explore their own country. They became national icons. Everywhere they travelled, punters were excited to be part of the Leyland adventure. Comedian Norman Gunston (aka Garry McDonald) described them as “the Starsky and Hutch of the dead centre”.

Friend and fellow adventurer Dick Smith was inspired by their spirit of adventure. “They did it all so inexpensively, spreading the message that anyone could do it,” he says. “They respected the landscape, were hard-working and earned their successes,” says Dick.

Today, Mal is travelling alone – his beloved wife Laraine died in 2018. After almost 50 years of marriage, so much of it spent coated in dust on unsealed roads, Mal misses her terribly. He now travels in the relative luxury of a motorhome complete with solar panels, enough water to last him three weeks and a generator so he can edit his stories on the remotest of roads. At 75, he has started a new gig for Network 10 as a travel reporter, but also hopes another Leyland series will be possible, fronted by him and daughter Carmen.

This award is sponsored by

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Jimmy says he had been preparing for the trip for years. At 16 he cycled 900km solo down the coast of Tasmania, and straight after finishing Year 12, he spent three weeks riding solo on the South Island of New Zealand.

After losing his grandmother to motor neuron disease, he dedicated his ride around the world to her, raising money to find a cure and also to assist those who are living with the disease today.

Jimmy faced countless challenges – mechanical problems, harsh weather conditions and even global terrorism. Six weeks before Jimmy cycled the road on the Afghan border, four cyclists were killed in an act of terror by Islamic State. When Jimmy arrived at the location and found a memorial for them, it instantly broke him: the fear it could have been him, but also the fear that he was putting his friends and family through.

According to Jimmy the most valuable thing he learned during his trip was to be more humble. His “go, go, go” attitude was replaced with a slower, more reflective one following a conversation with a fellow biker who made Jimmy question his own motivations. “I made the simple switch from telling people ‘I’m cycling around the world’ to ‘Just travelling through’ when asked. I learnt if they were actually interested in my story then they would want to chat.”

Jimmy completed his journey in May 2019 following the last leg of his worldwide journey, Perth to Adelaide, but has his eyes set on more adventures.

This award is sponsored by

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“For a school science project, I made a plastic bag out of corn-starch, but it didn’t work because it was soluble in water, which would mean we’d have our groceries end up on the floor and it would also mean taking away precious food sources,” Angelina says. “That’s when I was at the fish and chip shop getting prawns for dinner and noticed that the prawn shells looked like plastic. I went back to the lab and thought about what exactly made them look like that.”

Angelina had discovered an element of the prawn shell that could be mixed with a protein from spider web to create a plastic that decomposed 1.5 million times faster than conventional plastics.

For her invention she earned a BHP Science and Engineering Award and was touted as the “16-year-old changing the world” by National Geographic. But she didn’t stop there.

Angelina is now exploring the effect of algae on oil spill remediation, which has again earned her a nomination in the BHP Science and Engineering Awards. In June of this year, Angelina became one of the youngest people to give a TED talk.

While many may think that Angelina would go into the field of material engineering, she actually has her eyes set on a medical degree. “Victor Chang is my ultimate role model,” she says. “He was fearless. I want to be a doctor in medical research.”

This award is sponsored by

The post Angelina Arora: Young Conservationist of the Year 2019 appeared first on Australian Geographic.

John’s relationship with the reef began with commercial fishing, but after years spent diving and learning about this unique and fragile environment, he became increasingly aware of the negative effects of human activities and in particular climate change. In his own words, “the more fish I saw disappearing, the more moved I felt to do something about it.” It led him to found the adventure, scientific research and dive vessel Undersea Explorer. Each trip offered free berths to reef researchers to facilitate vital access to remote places across the GBR. He also established Eye to Eye Marine encounters research and tourism operation which also facilitates primary reef research through tourism partnerships. His endeavours have supported hundreds of researchers as well as raised the standards under which wildlife tourism and diving operates on the reef.

John has received many awards for his environmental leadership. He sits on countless boards and committees that have led to increased awareness and action to preserve the reef and is the Managing Director of Great Barrier Reef Legacy, a global leader in marine expeditions that accelerate actions vital to the future survival of coral reefs.

John and has worked alongside and featured in many television programs and documentaries including for the Discovery Channel, National Geographic, ZDF, Stern, Channel 10 news, and 60 minutes.

This award is sponsored by

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The 38 year old is an Indigenous ranger with the Nyul Nyul ranger group and manages the delicate relationship between Western science and Indigenous teachings to preserve the sparkling waters of Boddergron (Cygnet Bay) and the ecologically rich lands across the peninsula and beyond it.

When the government tried to build the world’s largest LNG gas export terminal at James Price Point (a vital marine sanctuary, home to Songlines and dinosaur footprints), Albert lobbied the Supreme Court and fronted a blockade until the developer withdrew from the project.

He is also Deputy Chair of the Kimberley Indigenous Saltwater Science project, Indigenous Chair for Bilbies Australia’s National Recovery Team, and is the Nyul Nyul representative on the board of the Kimberley Land Council.

A graduate of the West Australian Academy of Performing Arts, Albert has toured internationally as a speaker and musician (accompanying Australian musician John Butler). He has also appeared in a number of film and TV projects including Undermined, a documentary investigating economic interests on Indigenous-held lands throughout the Kimberley region (which he co-produced) and the natural history series Outback broadcast on Channel 9 and PBS in 2018. He has also delivered a TedXTalk promoting the need to recognise Indigenous ecological knowledge as science.

You can download and watch the full series of Outback here.

The post Albert Wiggan: Conservationist of the Year 2019 appeared first on Australian Geographic.

In April 2018, then 18-year-old Jimmy Ashby began the trip of a lifetime: a cycling journey around the world over 393 days, covering 39,100km across 32 countries and four continents. Jimmy says he had been preparing for the trip for years. At 16 he cycled 900km solo down the coast of Tasmania and straight after finishing Year 12, he spent three weeks riding solo on the South Island of New Zealand. After losing his grandmother to motor neurone disease, he dedicated his ride around the world to her, raising money to find a cure and also to assist those who are living with the disease today. Facing countless challenges – mechanical problems, harsh weather conditions and even global terrorism – Jimmy completed his journey in May 2019 following the last leg of his worldwide journey, Perth to Adelaide.

Angelina Arora – Young Conservationist of the Year

In 2018, Sydney high schooler Angelina Arora became known as the young scientist reshaping plastic waste thanks to her invention of a biodegradable alternative made from prawn shells. Through trial and error, Angelina had discovered an element of the prawn shell that could be mixed with a protein from spider web to create a plastic that decomposed 1.5 million times faster than conventional plastics. For her invention she earned a BHP Science and Engineering Award and was touted as the “16-year-old changing the world” by National Geographic. But she didn’t stop there. Angelina is now exploring the effect of algae on oil spill remediation, which has again earned her a nomination in the BHP Science and Engineering Awards 2019. In June of this year, Angelina became one of the youngest people to give a TED talk. Looking to her idol Victor Chang, Angelina is hoping to transfer her skills to the medical world.

Michelle Lee – Adventurer of the Year

In February 2019, Michelle Lee became the first Australian woman to row solo across the Atlantic Ocean – a mammoth journey of 4700km. The 46 year old was competing in the Talisker Whisky Atlantic Challenge, one of the world’s toughest nautical races and the ultimate test in mental and physical strength and endurance. Michelle set off from La Gomera in the Canary Islands and finished 68 days later, rowing into English Harbour in Antigua in the Caribbean. Throughout the trip she endured extreme conditions, including wild weather and swell, isolation, blisters upon blisters, sea sores and sickness, and sleep deprivation, and lost a whopping 14kg. In completing the journey she also became the first Australian woman to row solo across any ocean. While challenging her personal limits was a primary goal, Michelle also set herself the task of raising money for The Sanctuary, a crisis centre in Sydney’s north-west for women and children fleeing domestic violence.

Albert Wiggan – Conservationist of the Year

A traditional owner and Bardi-Kija-Nyul Nyul man from the Dampier Peninsula of Western Australia, Albert Wiggan is passionate about culture, country and Indigenous science. The 38 year old is an Indigenous ranger with the Nyul Nyul ranger group and manages the delicate relationship between Western science and Indigenous teachings to preserve the sparkling waters of Boddergron (Cygnet Bay) and the ecologically rich lands across the peninsula and beyond it. When the government tried to build the world’s largest LNG gas export terminal at James Price Point (a vital marine sanctuary, home to songlines and dinosaur footprints), Albert lobbied the Supreme Court and fronted a blockade until the developer withdrew from the project. He is also Deputy Chair of the Kimberley Indigenous Saltwater Science project and is the Nyul Nyul representative on the board of the Kimberley Land Council.

Nick Gleeson – Spirit of Adventure

Blind since an accident at the age of seven, Nick Gleeson is an extraordinary Australian.  His passion for sport and adventure is inspiring and his record of achievement in these fields would be truly extraordinary even for a fully sighted person. Nick excelled at sport at school and university. He became a marathon runner and has competed in the New York marathon three times. He has represented Australia in athletics in the USA, the UK and Hong Kong and has represented Victoria in cricket. In 2002, Nick received the AG Society’s Spirit of Adventure for his climb of Mt Kilimanjaro with his expedition Blind Ambition. He has climbed beyond Everest base camp in has crossed the Simpson Desert on foot. In 2019 he made a solo traverse of a salt lake in South Australia which he undertook without the assistance of his constant companion, Unity, his dedicated seeing-eye dog.

Mal Leyland: Lifetime of Adventure

Along with his late brother Mike, Mal Leyland is an icon of Australian TV. During the 1970’s the fraternal pair became famous through a series of televised adventures such as Open Boat to Adventure, in which they sailed a small dinghy from Darwin to Sydney, Off the Beaten Track and the hugely popular weekly series Ask the Leyland Brothers which launched in 1976. In each episode, the two brothers, along with their wives and children in their signature kombi vans, explored locations suggested by viewers. The public sent them in search of lost monuments, rumoured migratory birds and ephemeral lakes.  The whole exercise was filmed and edited in the style of home video.

The British-born brothers were responsible for inspiring a generation of Australians to get out and explore their own country. Today, Mal is travelling alone – his beloved wife Laraine died in 2018. After almost 50 years of marriage, so much of it spent coated in dust on unsealed roads, Mal misses her terribly. He now travels in the relative luxury of a motorhome complete with solar panels, enough water to last him three weeks and a generator so he can edit his stories on the remotest of roads. At 75, he has started a new gig for Channel 10 as a travel reporter, but also hopes another Leyland series will be possible, fronted by him and daughter Carmen.

John Rumney Lifetime of Conservation

John Rumney is a true pioneer of ecotourism on the Great Barrier Reef and one of the region’s great characters.

His relationship with the reef began with commercial fishing, but after years spent diving and learning about this unique and fragile environment, he became increasingly aware of the negative effects of human activities. It led him to found the adventure, scientific research and dive vessel Undersea Explorer. Each trip offered free berths to reef researchers facilitating vital access to remote places across the GBR. He also established Eye to Eye Marine encounters research and tourism operation which also facilitates primary reef research through tourism partnerships. His endeavours have supported hundreds of researchers as well as raised the standards under which wildlife tourism and diving operates on the reef.

John has received many awards for his environmental leadership. He sits on countless boards and committees that have led to increased awareness and action to preserve the reef and is the Managing Director of Great Barrier Reef Legacy, a global leader in marine expeditions that accelerate actions vital to the future survival of coral reefs.

The post 2019 Winners of the Australian Geographic Society Awards announced appeared first on Australian Geographic.

To follow Ralph on his adventure check out his instagram or his YouTube channel, Asking for Directions.

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MAKE A DIFFERENCE. PLEASE DONATE TODAY.

Funds raised will help support the AWC to protect the Gouldian finch into the future.

Donate now.

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MAKE A DIFFERENCE. PLEASE DONATE TODAY.

Funds raised will help support the Friends of the Brush-Tailed Rock-Wallaby to protect rock-wallabies into the future.

Donate now.

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Population surveys have been and are continuing to be conducted by the NSW Government, as the engaging little reptile is listed as ‘data deficient’ under the Saving our Species program – meaning not enough is known about them.

Plans are underway and facilities under construction for a breeding program of an insurance population at the Australian Reptile Park, in partnership with Aussie Ark. The program is very similar to that at Taronga Zoo and Symbio Wildlife Park for the turtles’ ‘cousin’, the Bellinger River snapping turtle.

The Manning River Turtle Conservation Group is working with Save Our Species Program, the Australian Reptile Park and Aussie Ark, and other stakeholders, to help save the Manning River helmeted turtle.

Please donate today to support efforts to conserve this important species.

DID YOU KNOW?

• The Manning River helmeted turtle is a ‘living fossil’ – the species is around 55 million years old.
• The Manning River helmeted turtle is a ‘bum breather’ – it has the ability to breathe through blood vessels in its cloaca (anus).
• It is a very shy turtle and spends much of the winter underwater.
• The Manning River helmeted turtle is widely considered Australia’s most beautiful turtle, and much sought after by turtle enthusiasts.
• The biggest threats to these turtles are predation by foxes, illegal poaching, habitat degradation and disease.

WHERE DO THEY LIVE?

The turtle is extremely rare. It is found only in one place in the world – in the upper and middle catchments of the Manning River on the Mid North Coast of NSW.

It prefers clear, fast-flowing waters that are upstream, with a rocky or sandy substrate (riverbed). It likes to hide in pools 2–3 metres deep.

It feeds mainly on small invertebrates that live at the bottom of the river, along with aquatic vegetation.

MAKE A DIFFERENCE

The Manning River Turtle Conservation Group has been working to raise awareness and educate the local community on the little-known turtle.

The group’s future plans to help save the turtle include potential citizen-science projects, such as Waterwatch.

To find nesting sites, the group is investigating employing sniffer dogs trained to sniff out turtle eggs to find the nests – a technique that is being used to help similarly endangered turtle species. Once nests are found, ideally motion-sensor cameras would be installed to monitor the nests. In addition, the group would like to supply nest protection kits to landholders with nesting sites.

Please donate today. Funds raised will help support the Manning River Turtle Conservation Group’s work in the conservation of the Manning River helmeted turtle.

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Found in forests in eastern mainland Australia and Tasmania, it faces many threats that have caused its numbers to decline significantly. Challenges include fragmentation and degradation of habitat; competition from introduced predators such as cats and foxes; and deliberate poisoning, shooting and trapping.

Donate here.

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We celebrated the achievements of some of Australia’s greatest conservationists and adventurers, as we do each and every year, but with the Duke and Duchess in attendance, there was a rare opportunity for conservation to make international headlines.

HRH Prince Harry made an impassioned speech on the night, speaking about the importance of turning awareness about the environment into action.

The speech, and of course, Meghan’s incredible Oscar de le Renta dress, was covered by news outlets from around the world.

The Duke and Duchess of Sussex continue their focus on the environment with an engagement on Friday night at the Australian Geographic Society awards. #9Newshttps://t.co/F2dnAH4lyO

— Nine News Australia (@9NewsAUS) October 26, 2018

The Australian Geographic Society is a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to supporting adventure and conservation. You can make a direct donation or subscribe to Australian Geographic to support the AG Society.

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As all of us in this room know, looking after our environment is a lifelong commitment. We are all part of a global family and we share the understanding and universal privilege of being able to inhabit this earth, with its natural wonders, glorious flora and fauna and biodiversity, from sky to sea, that is awe inspiring.

But I use the word privilege for a reason, because with privilege comes great responsibility.

To highlight this point, I wanted to share a few excerpts from a well-known conservationist. He starts by saying:

Conservation means being aware of the total environment we live in. It does not mean simply preserving every hedgerow, tree, field or insect in sight, but means thinking rationally and consciously just as much about the urban environment as about the countryside.

There is an unbalanced trend in our own time, when we have armoured ourselves with such an arsenal of machines and chemicals to do what we like to nature, and to reshape the world, that it has led us to see ourselves as somehow separate from, and superior to, nature.

He continues to say:

There was a time, when as human beings we thought the world belonged to us. Now we are beginning to realise that we actually belong to the world. We are responsible to it, and to each other.

And that whatever we do to nature,
whether it is on the grandest scale or just in our own gardens, is ultimately something that we are doing to our own deepest selves. We have not been put on this planet to destroy it.

Ladies and gentleman, those words were shared in speeches dating back to 1970 and up until 2002, by my father, The Prince of Wales. And yet now, nearly 50 years later, those sentiments resonate just as much today, if not more, than ever before.

My father and others have been speaking about the environment for decades – not basing it on fallacy or new-age hypothesis, but rooted in science and facts, and the sobering awareness of our environmental vulnerability.

And while those speeches would sometimes fall on deaf ears, he and others were unrelenting in their commitment to preserve the most valuable resource we have – our planet.

But let that be a cautionary tale.  We are all here tonight because we care deeply about using the world’s resources wisely and safeguarding them for future generations. And, I am certain we are more aware of the need for this balance now, than ever before.

We must appreciate our planet and what it has to offer.  The world we live in cannot be replicated or tamed – it is a wild place where beauty takes time to form, in most cases, thousands of years, and without it, we are nothing.

Year after year, we hear increasing reports of human-wildlife conflict, how little time we have before it’s too late to counter the impact of climate change, and how we can no longer sacrifice sustainability in development. The idea that these are the next generation’s problems is not a view we can accept.

I know that here in Australia you have particular challenges such as coral bleaching on your magnificent Great Barrier Reef, recurring drought, and ever increasing bush fires. It is absolutely heartbreaking to see your natural treasures being changed forever. I was amazed to see that Australia supports up to 700,000 native species, a high proportion of which are found nowhere else on earth.

So as Australians, the excellent work that you are doing to preserve your native biodiversity is really important,  not just for your own benefit, but for the whole planet.

But I am confident that positive and permanent change is on the horizon. Young people now innately understand far better than previous generations that we simply cannot continue to destroy our natural world, without facing major, irreversible consequences.

And they understand that many of the solutions we need to tackle these issues can be found by working together and empowering communities to come up with long-lasting, sustainable solutions.

That’s why tonight I have been so inspired by the awardees who are making such a remarkable difference in their communities, and I hope this platform will inspire others to do the same.

These are lessons we have all learnt and which we must urgently act upon. We cannot continue to pollute the oceans with plastics and other wastes. We cannot continue to breathe polluted air while cutting down our forests, or without reducing emissions. We cannot stand by and let our wildlife disappear from the earth and our fish from the seas.

In closing, I think we can agree tonight that there cannot be any more excuses.  Thanks to the tireless efforts of everyone in this room, and the environmentalists and conservationists of the past, we are ready to translate our awareness into action.

It is going to take every single one of us to stop the clock on the destruction of our planet, and time is not on our side.

The standard we walk past, is the standard we accept.  It’s time to take personal responsibility and realise what a privilege it is for us to live alongside nature.

Thank you for your dedication to our environment, our planet, our future, our Mother Nature.

The Australian Geographic Society is a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to supporting adventure and conservation. You can make a direct donation or subscribe to Australian Geographic to support the AG Society.

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The Australian Geographic Society is a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to supporting adventure and conservation. You can make a direct donation or subscribe to Australian Geographic to support the AG Society.

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As the inaugural Chief Executive of the non-profit Australian Wildlife Conservancy (AWC) from 2002 to 2018, Atticus oversaw its growth from a small WA operation to the largest private owner of land for conservation in the world, managing 4.65 million hectares across iconic regions such as the Kimberley, the Top End and the central Australian outback.

Atticus led the organisation in developing a new model for conservation, protecting some of the largest remaining populations of many of Australia’s threatened species. AWC is now the custodian of some of the largest remaining populations of many threatened species, including bilbies, numbats, bridled nailtail wallabies, Gouldian finches, purple-crowned fairy-wrens and more.

2018 Lifetime of Conservation recipient Atticus Fleming receiving his medallion at the 2018 Gala Awards ceremony in Sydney.

Read about all the winners of the 2018 Australian Geographic Society Awards

The Australian Geographic Society is a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to supporting adventure and conservation. You can make a direct donation or subscribe to Australian Geographic to support the AG Society.

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In April 2016, aged 14, Jade completed a record-breaking ski to the North Pole, for which she was named the Australian Geographic Society’s Young Adventurer of the Year. Then in 2017, she became the youngest woman to cross Greenland. With the completion of her South Pole adventure, Jade is now the youngest person to ski to both Poles and the youngest person to complete the Polar Hat Trick, a dream of hers for some time.

Her message to other young women dreaming of adventure is: “We need to shift our focus from how we appear to exploring the possibilities of what we can do. Don’t wait until you think you can do something perfectly. Just get started and have a go,” she says.

2018 Young Adventurer of the Year, Jade Hameister receiving her medallion from special guest Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex.

Read about all the winners of the 2018 Australian Geographic Society Awards

The Australian Geographic Society is a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to supporting adventure and conservation. You can make a direct donation or subscribe to Australian Geographic to support the AG Society.

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Prior to his accident, Steve had spent some time researching the seven summits, but had always put it off to pursue goals in his professional career as an engineer instead. Steve’s passion for high-altitude mountaineering came from his time in scouts, most memorably, when he climbed to Everest Base Camp when he was sixteen years old. But he hadn’t attempted an ambitious climb since.

Steve officially kicked off Project 7in4 in January this year, beginning with Mt Vinson in Antarctica, then Aconcagua in Argentina, Mt Kilimanjaro in Tanzania and Carstensz Pyramid in Indonesia, all completed by March.

2018 Adventurer of the Year Steve Plain receiving his medallion at the Australian Geographic Gala Awards in Sydney.

Read about all the winners of the 2018 Australian Geographic Society Awards.

Thank you to Coral Expeditions, sponsor of the 2018 Australian Geographic Adventurer of the Year Award.

The Australian Geographic Society is a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to supporting adventure and conservation. You can make a direct donation or subscribe to Australian Geographic to support the AG Society.

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Beginning his polar career two years later as leader and surveyor at Mawson Station, Holme Bay, East Antarctica, Syd is attributed with surveying more of the Australian Antarctic Territory than any other explorer including Douglas Mawson himself. From his first year in Antarctica in 1956 to his last trip in 1979-80, Syd mapped the region by dog sled and theodolite. His crew was the first to view the world’s largest glacier, Lambert Glacier and explore the Prince Charles Mountains.

In honour of his achievements, Syd was awarded a Polar Medal in 1958 and an MBE in 1966, and has several Antarctic landmarks to his name – Mount Kirkby, Kirkby Glacier, Kirkby Shoal and Kirkby Head. He received an Order of Australia earlier in 2018 in recognition of his service to surveying, to polar exploration, research and mapping expeditions, and to professional scientific societies.

2018 Lifetime of Adventure award recipient Syd Kirkby receiving his medallion at the AG Awards Gala ceremony in Sydney.

Read about all the winners of the 2018 Australian Geographic Society Awards

The Australian Geographic 2018 Lifetime of Adventure Award is sponsored by Aurora Expeditions.

The Australian Geographic Society is a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to supporting adventure and conservation. You can make a direct donation or subscribe to Australian Geographic to support the AG Society.

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During a year spent in hospital, Paul realised that his adventurous spirit was still thriving, despite his physical barriers. When he walked 100m around the rehab centre Paul thought that, with perseverance, he might be able to claw back some tiny semblance of the life he had before. So, he slowly got back to mountains again. Firstly hill walking in Wales, then three trips to Africa – climbing 1000m higher each time and culminating in an all-disabled expedition to Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania seven years after the accident.

Paul has continued to pursue an adventurous life as a kayaker, cyclist and rock climber. In 2016 Paul climbed, one-handed and one-footed up a rope, to reach the top of the Totem Pole that had evaded him 18 years earlier. In 2017 he led a team of disabled cyclists from Australia’s lowest point Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre its highest -the summit of Mt Kosciuszko- a journey of more than 2000km.

Read about all the winners of the 2018 Australian Geographic Society Awards

The Australian Geographic Society is a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to supporting adventure and conservation. You can make a direct donation or subscribe to Australian Geographic to support the AG Society.

The post Paul Pritchard: Spirit of Adventure winner 2018 appeared first on Australian Geographic.

“I believe my generation can be the ‘game changers’. We are more conscious about the environment and looking for a more ‘shared’ economy. Also through the use of social media we can mobilise interested supporters in a way that has not been seen before. Our generation is seeing the negative impacts on marine and bird life that plastic is having. We are not tied to a need for plastic for bin liners or dog waste. We want the change where we can reuse bags, coffee cups, not use plastic straws or balloons and reduce plastic packaging of food.”

2018 Young Conservationist of the Year Sophia Skarparis received her award from special guest Meghan, Duchess of Sussex.

Read about all the winners of the 2018 Australian Geographic Society Awards.

The Australian Geographic Society is a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to supporting adventure and conservation. You can make a direct donation or subscribe to Australian Geographic to support the AG Society.

The post Sophia Skarparis: Young Conservationist of the Year 2018 appeared first on Australian Geographic.

The Numbat Task Force was initially formed to lobby for protection for the numbat from feral cat predation. But when plans were announced to site a major rubbish tip just 6km from Dryandra, McLean says it was “all hands on deck” in a campaign to save the creatures. The four friends set up a Facebook page and now post every numbat image they capture on their cameras. Their efforts have managed to overturn a decision by the state’s Environmental Protection Authority not to assess the tip proposal. It was a significant victory for the team and means the potential impact of the waste facility on Dryandra will now be examined by the environmental watchdog.

2018 Conservationists of the Year, the ‘Numbat Task Force’, received their medallion at the AG Awards Gala ceremony in Sydney on 26 October 2018.

Read about all the winners of the 2018 Australian Geographic Society Awards.

The Australian Geographic 2018 Conservationist of the Year Award is sponsored by the NSW OEH’s Saving Our Species program.

The Australian Geographic Society is a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to supporting adventure and conservation. You can make a direct donation or subscribe to Australian Geographic to support the AG Society.

The post Numbat Task Force: Conservationist of the Year 2018 appeared first on Australian Geographic.

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Details for the event are below:

Date: Friday, 26 October 2018

Time: 6.00pm

Venue: Grand Ballroom, Shangri-La Hotel, Sydney

Tickets: $295 for non-members | $240 for AG Society members (subscribers)
Three-course meal included.

Please note this event is now sold out.

For more information please contact society@ausgeo.com.au

The post Book your 2018 AGS Awards tickets appeared first on Australian Geographic.

The Saving Our Species program is working to save plants and animals across NSW through practical, on-ground conservation actions. Projects are currently in place for hundreds of threatened species including the koala, a variety or rare orchids, the southern corrobboree frog, wollemi pine and the glossy-black cockatoo.

This year, we’re pleased to announce the Saving Our Species program is sponsoring the Australian Geographic Society’s 2018 Conservationist of the Year Award, which recognises Australians with a passion for conservation who have shown an outstanding contribution to protecting our natural heritage.

The AGS Conservationist of the Year 2018 will be announced at our annual awards ceremony on Thursday, 25 October, along with the winners of the other categories, all of which celebrate the exemplary achievements of Australians in both conservation and adventure.

Click here to find out more about the Australian Geographic Society Awards and to book tickets to the event.

Or read more about the NSW Government’s Saving Our Species program.

The post Saving Our Species to sponsor AGS Conservationist of the Year 2018 appeared first on Australian Geographic.

2019 Mal Leyland

2018 Syd Kirkby

2017 Jon Muir

2016 Ron Allum

2015 Eric Philips OAM

2014 Hans Tholstrup

2013 Colin Putt

2012 Don McIntyre

2011 N/A

2010 Lincoln Hall

2009 Dr Jon Stephenson

2008 Alan Warild

2007 Andrew McAuley

2006 Greg Mortimer

2005 Graeme Budd and Andy Thomas

2004 Mike McDowell

2003 Tom Kruse

2002 Griselda Sprigg

2001 Alf Howard

2000 Dick Smith

The Australian Geographic Society is a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to supporting adventure and conservation. You can make a direct donation or subscribe to Australian Geographic to support the AG Society.

The post AG Lifetime of Adventure Awards appeared first on Australian Geographic.

2017 Sandy Robson

2016 Michael Smith

2015 Jacoby, Porter, Maffett and Bucirde

2014 Jason Beachcroft

2013 Tim Jarvis

2012 Pat Farmer

2011 N/A

2010 Linda Beilharz

2009 Andrew Lock

2008 Josef Truban

2007 Lloyd Godson

2006 Tim Cope

2005 Andrew McCauley

2004 Jon Johanson

2003 Sue Fear

2002 Jon Muir

2001 Tammy van Wisse

2000 Dick Smith

1999 David Mason

1998 David Lewis

1997 Syd Kirkby

1996 Don & Margie McIntyre

1995 Dennis Bartell

1994 Len Beadell

1993 Warwick Deacock

1992 Val & Ron Taylor

1991 Warren Bonython

1990 Hans Tholstrup

1989 Dot Butler

1988 Philip Law

1987 Colin Putt

The Australian Geographic Society is a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to supporting adventure and conservation. You can make a direct donation or subscribe to Australian Geographic to support the AG Society.

The post AG Adventurer of the Year Awards appeared first on Australian Geographic.

2019 Jimmy Ashby

2018 Jade Hameister 

2017 Sam Mitchell 

2016 Jade Hameister 

2015 Danielle Murdoch 

2014 Belinda Ritchie

2013 Ryan Campbell

2012 Lachie Carracher

2011 N/A

2010 Jessica Watson

2009 Angus Paradice

2008 James Castrission and Justin Jones

2007 Rex Pemberton

2006 Stephen Fordyce and Roger Chao

2005 Rex Pemberton

2004 Chris Bray and Jasper Timm

2003 Christopher Harris

2002 Tim Cope

2001 Richardson, Weingott and Weingott

2000 Krista Bernard

1999 N/A

1998 Chris Hatherly

1997 David Dicks

1996 Mark Shearer and Eric Cocker

1995 N/A

1994 Damon and Deanna Howes

1993 N/A

1992 James Woodford and Adam Kerezsy

1991 Jeremy Durbin

1990 John Weir

1989 Richard Wood

The Australian Geographic Society is a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to supporting adventure and conservation. You can make a direct donation or subscribe to Australian Geographic to support the AG Society.

The post AG Young Adventurer of the Year Award appeared first on Australian Geographic.

2019 Angelina Arora

2018 Sophia Skarparis

2017 Madison Stewart

2016 Joshua Gilbert

2015 Amelia Telford

2014 Bindi Irwin

2013 Linh Do

2012 Kim Hands

2010 Simon Cherriman

2009 Larissa Brown

The Australian Geographic Society is a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to supporting adventure and conservation. You can make a direct donation or subscribe to Australian Geographic to support the AG Society.

The post AG Young Conservationist of the Year Awards appeared first on Australian Geographic.

2019 John Rumney

2018 Atticus Fleming

2017 Curt and Mich Jenner

2016 Robyn Williams

2015 Robert Purves AM

2014 Tim Flannery

2013 Ian Kiernan AO and Kim McKay AO

2012 Bob Brown

2010 Mary White

2009 Alex Colley OAM

2008 Ron & Valerie Taylor

The Australian Geographic Society is a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to supporting adventure and conservation. You can make a direct donation or subscribe to Australian Geographic to support the AG Society.

The post AG Lifetime of Conservation Award appeared first on Australian Geographic.

• Adventurer of the Year
• Young Adventurer of the Year
• Lifetime of Adventure
• Lifetime of Conservation
• Conservationist of the Year – Sponsored by the NSW Office of Environment & Heritage
• Young Conservationist of the Year
• Spirit of Adventure – Sponsored by Aurora Expeditions

To learn more about each category, head to our page about the AGS Awards.

Past award winners include Bob Brown, who stood at the frontline of big environmental battles for more than 40 years; Valerie and Ron Taylor, who were recognised for 50 years worth of marine conservation work, including their ground-breaking research into shark behaviour; and Bindi Irwin, who has inspired a new generation of wildlife warriors.

Winners will be revealed at the annual Australian Geographic Society Awards. Keep an eye out for announcements on details of the night!

The deadline for submissions is Friday, 29 June 2018.

AG Society Awards sponsors:

RELATED ARTICLES
About the AGS Awards
Nominations FAQ

The post Nominations for the 2018 AG Awards are now open! appeared first on Australian Geographic.

Vast areas have been cleared of the lizards’ native grassland habitat, where it uses spider and insect holes to hide from temperature extremes. Donate now to help save this exquisite reptile. As part of a conservation program partnership with the NSW Saving our Species program and similar work in the ACT, your funds will be used to provide artificial spider tubes, which will help rebuild the dragon’s wild population.

The post Save the grassland earless dragon in the ACT appeared first on Australian Geographic.

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The post Help fund a berth for a scientist on the Great Barrier Reef Legacy appeared first on Australian Geographic.