Published in Overland Issue 217 Summer 2014 · Uncategorized Save Behana Gorge Phillip Hall To town planners, the granite gorge traces like a wound across this scythed and hothouse landscape; its water a sprawling spray-storm in the Wet spitting and exposing steep barriers to advancement. Against the creek’s current, tadpoles attach head-first to rocks, while on the banks burrowing frogs chorus in the leaf litter and leeches stand erect on their sucker-rear-ends, longing for blood. Sometimes we see a cormorant or a heron, or hear the shrill staccato notes of a whistling kite circling treetops. You watch catfish guarding nests of stones as water rats slip through a strainer of flood debris. People come here to swim or spray graffiti. Sometimes, though, when I spend time in the gorge, all I hear is the zeroing- in of mozzies, all I see is the spray of the torrent as I wait for curlew to call their drawn-out wailing weeer-eearr. Often I’ll just stare into the canopy as dragonflies manoeuvre their fabulist films in the flickering light or I’ll watch the orb spider strung golden between trees and spotted with silver dew, or follow the line of swimming holes, lichen, fungus and fern, now proposed as a pipeline by the Cairns Water Corporation. Phillip Hall Phillip Hall works in remote Indigenous education in the Northern Territory. He has recently completed a PhD with Wollongong University and his book, Sweetened in Coals, is due for publication with Ginninderra Press. More by Phillip Hall › Overland is a not-for-profit magazine with a proud history of supporting writers, and publishing ideas and voices often excluded from other places. If you like this piece, or support Overland’s work in general, please subscribe or donate. Related articles & Essays 1 6 November 2026 · Friday Fiction Headland Harry Goddard He must have still been sore. I could tell from the winces he made as he scooted down the trail. Some unspoken agreement of not hitting other people’s children — and the circumstances of me not being that type of kid — spared me from the same punishment. I was taken to my parents who agreed I would have to work off the damages, and I must have mowed the lawn once, or cleaned the family car. 4 November 2026 · Film MIFF, Minotaur and the politics of maternal reception Alicia Byrnes Maternal labour is, in the terms I’ve set out here, not labour at all. Noisy, unfocused, mobile, perhaps even sleepy — it is an affront to arthouse film viewing and therefore unserious.