Stepping gingerly across the crimson rocks of the Gascoyne River, Yinggarda elder Kath Ryan sings out a greeting tinged with sorrow.
Ms Ryan, 71, says she is one of the last speakers fluent in her language.
She calls out to her ancestors, telling them her “soul is sad”.
On previous visits, she would throw a fistful of sand across the water to acknowledge the Dreamtime water serpent, or Gujida, said to dwell here.
But there is no water.
At the end of a dirt road on a station owned by Australia’s richest man, the pale underbelly of Western Australia’s longest river sits exposed to the sun.
“Goodness knows when another river is going to come, and will it be the same,” Ms Ryan said.
The Gascoyne River carves through 800 kilometres of desert before reaching Gwoonwardu.
The lands have been known to generations of Yinggarda people as the “neck of the river”, where the coastal town Carnarvon meets the Indian Ocean, 900 kilometres north of Perth.
The river is upside-down, meaning the water is stored below ground and visibly flows only a handful of times each year after heavy rain.
At Rocky Pool, a publicly accessible spot on Andrew Forrest’s Brickhouse Station, the natural rock barrier traps the river to form a wide billabong surrounded by overhanging gums.
Even during long dry periods, Rocky Pool endures by groundwater pushed up through the riverbed sands.
But the waterhole is empty now, as it has been since the summer.
There isn’t any official monitoring, but multiple residents told the ABC it was very rare to see the pool completely disappear.
For Ms Ryan, the scars of an extremely hot summer run deep.
“I call [Rocky Pool] my peace place, where I come and sit and think about my old people,” she said.
“I am 71 and I have never seen this place dry, and it saddens me because this has always been a place of reverence.”
No summer flow
So-called river comedowns are cause for celebration in Carnarvon.
They offer more water security to the state’s food bowl, where growers rely on intermittent flows to recharge aquifers.
Up to 19.2 gigalitres of river water is allocated annually to irrigate almost $100 million worth of produce.
Comedowns most often occur over summer as tropical storms move south across the state, dumping large totals on the inland catchment.
According to the Department of Water and Environment Regulation, the Gascoyne River has not reached Carnarvon since May 2023.
It was the first time in eight years that no flow was recorded within 12 months.
The river’s absence coincides with the driest year in parts of the Gascoyne since records began, and blistering temperatures during the first few months of 2024.
In February, Carnarvon Airport posted its highest maximum temperature documented, with the mercury hitting 49.9 degrees Celsius.
Record-breaking monthly average maximum temperatures in March and April followed, sucking what little moisture remained in the soil.
Ms Ryan said it was a stark change from the bush she knew as a girl.
“Growing up to me was great because the river was continuously with water,” she said.
“You’d have the old uncles singing for the rain and dancing for the rain.
“I see it as a disconnect … most of our people never see this age and particularly our men.
“A lot of the older people went and the song and dancing and everything went with them.”
One of the last rainmakers
Ms Ryan’s son Ashley “Button” Penny said he was born with the water serpent as his totem — marking him as a cultural “rainmaker”.
“I got the gift of it,” he said.
Mr Penny said male family members carried generations of ecological and spiritual knowledge.
He said he was one of a few taught when and how to perform rainmaking ceremonies, which involved travelling along the Gascoyne River.
Mr Penny said the dry conditions at Rocky Pool, or Nyiardboo as it was called in Yinggarda language, were a punishment for the neglect and disrespect of Aboriginal heritage.
“You’ve got to treat the country as it should be treated,” he said.
“There’s been rules and laws and respectful things that have been done for thousands and thousands of years.
“If you talk to the bush wrong, it’s going to act funny.”
Listening to the land’s custodians
University of WA hydrogeologist Sarah Bourke said it was crucial to listen closely when traditional owners identified changes in the landscape.
Dr Bourke said she had heard similar observations from Aboriginal groups around the state.
“If we’re seeing river pools that have, to the best of our knowledge, including Indigenous knowledge, been wet and if they’re now drying out … the way that the system is working has changed,” she said.
“Aboriginal knowledge can play a really important role in filling those gaps.”
In Carnarvon, the Yinggarda season of Biddijen begins as the first cool winds blow off the coast and schools of mullet migrate from freshwater estuaries to open ocean.
While often associated with mild temperatures and drier weather, indications from the Bureau of Meteorology suggest a winter river flow is not out of the question.
Water-starved pastoralists along the upper Gascoyne River have enjoyed two comedowns and steadier totals in recent weeks, replenishing groundwater stores short of Rocky Pool.
Mr Penny said the land would signal when the time of punishment was over and the river could flow downstream once again.
“The bush will know,” he said.
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