Is that a skink in that crevice?

When Stewart suggested heading up to Lamington National Park I lept at the chance. I'd wanted to go up there and take a few pictures of me feeding the birds and have a go on the tree top walk, it's always good fun. Stewart wanted to tick another one off his list that he'd seen before the end of 2009 and so I said I'd once again come along for the ride. This time we were in search of the eastern crevice skink (Egernia mcpheei) which is not a little brown skink. It is a brown skink and it is quite small, but not as small as Coup.

We set off about 10 o'clock and headed south along the back roads and up into the hinterland. About half an hour into the drive it started to rain. Not just drizzle, but pour. With wipers on full and my nose pressed up against the windscreen we continued along the winding road. Stewart was seemingly oblivious to the rain, was happily singing along to the many David Bowie songs that he has on his iPod. It was at this point that I noticed that the directions Stewart was giving me were a bit off the mark. It turned out that we were not, as I thought, going to O'Reily's but Binna Burra. Binna Burra has no birds to feed, no tree top walk and is distinctly the more remote of the two main sites in Lamington National Park. Not to worry I told myself. At least it will be a relaxing afternoon. Stewart had said that the skink could be found a short walk from the carpark. Next time I will have to clarify with Stewart the definition of "a short walk". As it turned out the short walk was not a short walk. The short walk was a long one. The short walk was in fact a 10 kilometre hike through undulating, muddy, leach-infested terrain. However, as we started our ascent I had no idea of this and so was only worried about driving in the rain.

As we reached the Binna burra visitors centre the rain had slowed to a drizzle. I pulled up and turned off the engine. As if they were waiting for us the clouds came in and rain once again started to fall. We got out of the car and sprinted over to the centre. Inside there were maps on the wall of the various walks, information about the animals that can be seen in the park and information about camping in the area. Each sign had pictures showing an enchanting wilderness with happy families walking to breath-taking vistas high above the canopy. I looked out the window. The canopy was out there somewhere. Unfortunatly in the pouring rain and low cloud, made it impossible to see. We hung around the visitors centre for about half an hour waiting for the rain to clear. Stewart spoke to the friendly lady volunteer about the lizards and snakes that she'd seen in the area when the rain was due to clear (it wasn't due to clear until Christmas day). In the meantime I busied myself finding a map of where we would be heading. I looked down the list of easy walking tracks, no it wasn't there, medium difficulty tracks, no, not there either. I was just begining to think Stewart had got the place wrong when I saw it. It was under the red track for experienced hikers only. My heart jumped a beat. I looked closer. Distance 34km. My legs automatically went limp and I nearly fell over. I grabbed the wall managed to catch myself at the last minute. I stared at it, my mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping on the deck of a fishing boat. WE ONLY HAD AN AFTERNOON! WHAT WAS HE THINKING! Grumple, grumble... As the criticisms of Stewart's plan of a 'short walk' bounced about my head I spotted something on the sign that made my heart leap. The section that we were going to walk would be a 10km return trip. I let out a sigh of relief and relaxed only slightly. It might not be 34km but it would still be 10km. That was not a short walk. I might say at this point that exercise is not my strong point. Since I'd started university two years ago, my level of fitness had declined to nearly non-existant. While I can walk, I much prefer to sit under the shade of a tree and eat chocolate. I shook my head and walked away from the board over to Stewart. The lady he was speaking to was pointing out the window. I looked at Stewart who had a smile from ear to ear. My mind set about imagining what they were talking about. It turned out that the lady had seen a land mullet (Egernia major) sitting outside on a log right at the front of the centre. I peered out the window and saw the large dark lizard sitting on a stump about 3 metres away. As the rain had once again turned to a light drizzle we went outside to photograph the skink and come come up with a plan for the afternoon. As Stewart was just packing away his camera the drizzle stopped and a ray of sunlight shon down through the clouds to where we stood. That settled it. We didn't drive 100km just to turn around and head back down the mountain. We were going to find that little brown skink!

A hairy tramp that was enjoying the view.

We picked up our bags and started down leaf covered track squelching in the mud as we went. The canopy closed in around us and soon we were wandering through the rainforest with only the sounds of squelching footsteps, calling birds and raindrops on leaves to be heard. We walked on. In places the path wound its way through eucalypt forest before heading back into the denser jungle. It was in one of these sections that we came upon a land mullet sitting by the side of the path in a bit of sunlight. We stopped. It was another good sign. We quitely passed and kept on walking. We crossed rocky outcrops and flowing creeks still the path went on. We passed signs telling of places both far, near and non-existant. Stewart strode ahead taking long strides and jumping nimbly over logs. I followed, stumbling and slipping along. "Mind that log" I heard Stewart call out. "What log?" I thought and with that went face first into the ground. I pulled myself up, brushed myself off and continued along the path as I followed Stewart disappearing into the mist singing quietly to himself. We started to climb, higher and higher. The drizzle started again and we became damper and damper. As I trudged along I saw a shape appear on the track ahead of me. I slowed. This was bunyip country, I had to be careful. The shape had big hair that seemed to come out of all directions. It stood there, bolt upright with its hands on its hips. I moved slowly closer looking for my glasses to get a better view. Luckily it was just Stewart. He'd found the spot where the skink should be. I sat down on the nearest rock I could find (albit still in a puddle) and took a big gulp of water between gasps for air. I felt mentally and physically drained after walking up and down ravines, squelching through mud and flicking off blood-sucking leaches that seemed to be sitting on the path waiting for you to step near. Stewart also sat down and didn't look it the least bit tired. This made me feel worse. Of course, Stewart soon was able to lift my mood. From his bag he handed me a fruit bar. As the sweet sugar melted in my mouth I could feel my energy returning and my spirits soaring.

After resting for a few minutes and waiting for the rain to ease we both got up and started searching the area. I'd been told that it was a little brown skink that liked to hide in rocky crevices. We searched for about 10 minutes but only managed to find a couple of marsh snakes (Hemiaspis signata) and quite a few leaches. "Crikey" Stewart yelled (or words to that affect). "There's the little fella". I looked over and saw the skink sitting on a rock not 2 metres from where we stood. It was a lot bigger than I thought. Still small but larger that Coup that we had found the day before.

Eastern crevice skink (Egernia mcpheei)

It was a great find and I'm glad that we gave it the chance. After about 15 minutes photographing it we turned around and head back to the car. Another 5 tiring kilometers and I looked like I'd spent the afternoon doing a military assault course. Mud covered my shoes, I had cuts over my legs and arm and leaches who were not just content to assult my shoes and socks but a few plucky members of the leach airborne squadron seemed to have parachuted onto my hat and were making their way into my hair. I'd like to say that the leaches and sore legs were well worth the afternoon of pain but really, would you go through all that just to find a little brown skink? I think not.