Latest / Shallow Nights: Scary Bedtime Stories / Unveiling Tate National Park's Mysteries and Unbreakable Maternal Bonds

Transcript

Unveiling Tate National Park's Mysteries and Unbreakable Maternal Bonds · Shallow Nights: Scary Bedtime Stories

0:03
Welcome to the Tate National Park, we hope you enjoy your
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visit. The Tate National Park is
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situated on over 100 anchors of bushland set aside officially
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for conservation in 1994. This area is known for its
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interconnected cave network and unusual geological features such
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as an underground waterfall and its historical cave paintings.
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Visitors may explore parts of the caves as well as The Walking
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trails up Stuart Hill. We have a children's play area
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and a small canteen should you wish to use them during your
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visit. Toilet facilities are available
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at the visitor center. Upon arrival, police see the
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staff at the reception to collect your passes.
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Your passes should be worn around your neck at all times.
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Upon receiving your passes, you may collect a brochure and map
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for the park and make your way through to the entrance.
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Alternatively, print off this page and take it with you.
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Please do not enter the park without a map and adhere to the
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signposted areas. The Tate National Park will not
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take responsibility for any liabilities encountered due to
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non adherence to these rules. The Caves The caves run for
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approximately 5.3 kilometers underground to an explored depth
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of 200 meters at their deepest points.
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There will be staff members posted at the entrance.
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If no staff members are present, Please wait for one to arrive
1:31
before entering the caves. It is strict policy that all
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visitors to the caves must be counted on their way in and out
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to avoid delay. Please ensure all members of
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your party are present upon entering and exiting the caves.
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Tours are at O911301411730 daily.
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You may explore the caves on your own if you wish, but Please
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ensure you stick to the signposted areas.
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The caves are dark and certain areas which look navigable are
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more treacherous than they seem. Do not enter an area which has
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been closed off at the moment. There are paleontological digs
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going on, so part of the caves have been blocked off.
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We apologize for any inconvenience.
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There are emergency switches at regular intervals along the
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walls. These are red in color and
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easily reachable from the walkway.
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If a member of your party goes missing, call out, but do not
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try to find them. Press the nearest switch and a
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member of staff will come to assist you.
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Occasionally A visitor will observe a man dressed in brown
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walk past them. You will leave a Lantern on the
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floor and continue into the caves without looking back.
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You may be tempted to follow him.
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If you experience this, press your nearest emergency switch
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and await a staff member. Do not touch the Lantern.
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Please note our staff members wear a khaki uniform with minor
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blue and green embroidery. It does not differ by gender.
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Do not accept help from any member of staff wearing a
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different uniform. They do not work for us.
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The caves have three main visitor routes.
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Route 1 is a minor route suitable for beginners and is
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wheelchair accessible. It is 1.2 kilometers long.
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There are several turn around points.
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Route 2 is slightly harder. It is open for those able to
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walk long distances. Minor climbing is involved.
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It is for people of moderate athletic ability or higher.
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From start to finish it measures 2.2 kilometers into.
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You will see the court waterfall.
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It is not wheelchair accessible. Route 3 is the most advanced
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route. Only attempt this route if you
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are fit and abled bodied. Caving and climbing experience
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is recommended. Route 3 cannot be explored
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without a guide. Please arrive half an hour
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before you selected tour time as listed above for a safety
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demonstration. Without the demonstration you
4:01
will not be able to attend the tour.
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Further notes about the caves. Route One boasts the Burgess
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Wall, a series of cave paintings dating back to the 1800s.
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Curiously, several of the paintings appear much older,
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pigment testing suggesting they may date back 200,000 years.
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There is no record of who may have made the paintings.
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The style of the newer paintings and the names written alongside
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them suggests they were made by European settlers, while the
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older ones were probably an indigenous group active at the
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time, though no paintings quite the same have even been found
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for comparison. You may notice the lights are
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low in this part of The Cave and the wall is covered by plastic.
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This is to ensure preservation of the artwork.
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Flash photography is not permitted in this area.
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The paintings themselves seem to depict ancient megafauna, though
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it is likely the 19th century versions are of the native
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animals we know today. There are several sets of
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initials along the wall. At the back of The Cave is a
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patch of rock covered by handprints.
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Some of these are extremely unusual in shape, yet testing of
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the pigments used suggests they are genuine and old.
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If you find your full name written among the initials,
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leave The Cave immediately. Route 2 is home to the court
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waterfall. This is perhaps the parks most
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unusual geographical feature. Despite being loud enough to
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hear from afar, there are some nearby points in The Cave
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network where it is almost impossible to hear. 10 meters
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before the waterfall is a curved piece of tunnel known as the
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Quiet Corner. Standing in the corner with your
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back to the wall, it is almost silent.
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Try it for yourself. The origins and destination of
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the waterfall remain a mystery. Some suggest the water is drawn
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from an aquifer, others from a river above ground making an
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unexpected detour through the caves.
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Whatever the reason, it is a fascinating piece of local
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geology. The waterfall is visible from
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the viewing gallery marked on the map, climbing over the
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railings as strictly prohibited. Please note visitors who attempt
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to do so will be removed from the premises and the unlikely
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event you notice anybody on the rocks between the waterfall and
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the railings, please tell a member of staff immediately and
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follow their instructions. Do not attempt to climb down to
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rescue them. If you begin to feel light
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headed, leave the area immediately.
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Route 3 was originally mapped out in the early 1800s and is
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for confident cavers. It contains a number of sharp
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turns and narrow passageways. Safety equipment is required due
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to the danger of falling rocks. After about half an hour's walk
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there is a large cave with stalactites and stalagmites
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dating back over 200,000 years. Further on there is more
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graffiti. The letters s s appear alongside
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an image of a hand holding a map.
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It is likely they reference Samuel Orville Stott, who
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explored the caves in the 19th century and wrote several books
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on caving. An excerpt from his work Curious
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Geology of South Australia, published in 1822, is as
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follows. The caves are tight and dark
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too. Some wind creeps in and makes
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strange sounds. The waterfall is quiet at
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points. There are pictures on the wall.
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I do not understand strange creatures.
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They say Australia has stranger creatures than any place outside
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of Africa, but I have not seen one quite like these paintings.
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The sounds echo in these cavernous walls.
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Crevices in the stone cast shadows off my Lantern, like
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reaching hands. Yet I explore alone.
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S S also appears on the Burgess Wall on Route 1 alongside the
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newer writing trails. If caving is not for you, don't
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worry. We have 100 acres of bushland
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with over 50 kilometers of walking trails for you to enjoy.
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Please make sure you take plenty of water and sunscreen standing
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at the visitor center. Straight ahead is Jungle Peak, a
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rocky oak crop jutting from the side of a small mountain.
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The name is said to have been a joke among the early settlers of
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the area, a play on the distinctly barren nature of the
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site. Unfortunately, the original name
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has been lost to history. At its highest, the peak is well
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within average oxygen levels and air pressure.
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Despite this, it is possible you will experience mild altitude
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sickness and dizziness at the top of the peak.
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The cause is unknown. The large hill from which it
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protrudes is known as Stuart Hill.
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There are several trails leading to the top where you will find
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spectacular views. Some visitors have reported
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encountering a telephone tower when on Stuart Hill.
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If you see one during your visit and leave the area immediately,
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there are no telephone towers in the park.
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Climbing is common on Jungle Peak.
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If you intend to participate, please inform a member of staff
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upon arrival and they will provide you with the requisite
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safety equipment. It is our policy that all
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climbers must wear a park issued coin around their necks.
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When you have finished climbing, please return the coin to the
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office. When climbing please stick to
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the marked paths. There are several places outside
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the designated climbing areas which are more dangerous than
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they look. You may see a climber in orange
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clothing in one of these areas. They are there often.
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Do not attempt to join them. On the occasions people have
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been witnessed doing so, they have not returned as yet.
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No bodies have been found. General Safety As stated above,
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it is important to wear your pass at all times.
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Several people have reported feelings of disorientation and
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nausea upon removing their pass in the park.
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On 2 occasions, patrons were found at the edge of the
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property speaking incoherently about circular trails and
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creeping from the trees. The children's area is closed on
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Mondays. School groups are asked to book
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on Tuesdays and Thursdays only to avoid congestion.
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Please notify a staff member if a child is seen inside the
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playground on a Monday and do not make eye contact with said
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child, no matter how many different voices they appeal to
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you in school. Groups are required to have one
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adult per four children, regardless of school policy or
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student age. Please count your students
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regularly throughout the day. Fluctuation of one to four
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students is normal. By the time you leave, you
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should be back to the correct amount.
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Dogs, with the exception of service dogs, are not allowed in
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the park. Service dogs must be kept on
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leash at all times. Visitors with hearing aids
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should be aware of patches of electrical interference
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throughout the park. This is most likely to occur on
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the West side of Stuart Hill. All trail markers are blue
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wooden posts marked with arrows, numbers, compass points, and
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brief directions. There was a red switch on each
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one. Do not follow any other type of
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trail marker. If a member of your group
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becomes insistent on following an unofficial trail marker, such
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as a differently colored post or an arrow in the dirt, it is
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permitted to restrain them. You may use any means necessary.
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If they get away from you and go down the trail anyway, do not
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attempt to follow them. Press the switch on the nearest
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trail marker and away to staff member.
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The quicker you press the switch, the more likely your
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trail companion will be retrieved.
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It is normal when retrieved from a false trail to have nightmares
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for up to a week. Afterwards.
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You'll be given a coin of the same kind that is given to the
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climbers to take home. A staff member will come to
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collect it after two weeks, during which you must wear the
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coin at all times. It is important to keep your
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curtains and windows closed while sleeping for two weeks
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afterwards. Please also advise a member of
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staff if you see a wounded visitor.
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A wounded visitor will appear naked and disoriented with at
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least one visible injury, steadily losing blood.
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They are likely to talk about trees and hands and try to touch
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you. Do not allow them to do so.
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Press the nearest emergency switch for help.
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You may notice branches pick up more wind in the presence of a
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wounded visitor. They may appear to be reaching
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toward them. If this happens, remove yourself
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from the area. Wounded visitors are most common
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on the trails, but occasionally appear in the caves as well.
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Protocol is the same regardless of where the wounded visitors
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are seen. If you observe what looks like
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hands trying to reach for you around corners, calmly step away
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and await the help of a staff member.
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Sightings of the following should also be reported to
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members of staff. Overturned bins, abandoned
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hiking equipment, Local flora, changing positions.
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Clothes hung from bushes. Bipedal koalas.
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Staff members in the wrong uniform.
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Open tents, Unattended children of normally large footprints.
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Hands reaching from unusual places and handprints and
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climbing patterns on sheer surfaces.
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The Tate National Park is home to an abundance of native
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wildlife, including a large number of lyrebirds.
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The lyrebird is a mimic famed for their vocal ability.
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They can mimic all sorts of sounds, from human voices to
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machinery. Do not be alarmed.
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Common noises from the lyrebirds in Tate National Park include
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camera shutters. It's not a tower, Kookaburra
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calls. It's something else.
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I am climbing. Comes from the trees.
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Comes from the trees. The hands, The hands.
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Who is that? Do not be alarmed.
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Keep your pass on you and refer to the visitor's guide and you
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will have a pleasant time. Please enjoy your visit to Tate
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National Park. My mother never wanted children.
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She had me because my dad wanted a kid, and then she had another
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because my dad was worried I would be lonely.
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I remember her face whenever there were other screaming kids
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around at the playground at the school.
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Her face would tighten and her eyes would become hard, her lips
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thinning out until they were almost gone.
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She never looked at me or my brother that way.
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She would look at us and everything would be soft.
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As soft as she could be, anyway. I asked her once why she wanted
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to be a mom and she said, oh sweetheart, I never did, but I'm
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glad I'm yours. It blew my mind.
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Every mom wanted to be a mom, right?
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They all dreamed of the day they could have their very own baby,
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right? Turns out, not really.
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It stung a little, actually. A lot.
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It's a hard thing for a kid to understand.
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My mom basically told me she never wanted me, didn't she?
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I asked her if she liked kids, she said no.
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Well, I like you and your brother.
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I love you both sweetheart, but I don't care for other kids.
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This made sense to me. We were hers.
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She loved us. My mom was not the loving mom
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you see on TV. She didn't like to cuddle or to
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nurse wounds. She answered all our questions
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openly and truthfully, but there was never a mother daughter,
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heart to heart thing going on. She had no patience for whining
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for too many emotions, but she loved us in her own way.
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She would cook her favorite meals, take herself for ice
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cream for good grades. Trying to write it out is weird.
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I know how I felt about my mom. I know how she felt about me.
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In print, it sounds standoffish and like she was absent in life.
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It sometimes feels like that, like she was going through the
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motions of a good parent. But when I got older, I learned
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that she was giving us what she could.
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She wasn't a warm person, but she gave whatever tenderness she
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had to our family. She was my rock, and rocks
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aren't good for cuddling. But rocks are good at weathering
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storms. Rocks are good to build a
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foundation on. Rocks don't let you down.
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She was not an outgoing, loving mother, but she loved me and my
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brother and my dad. She loved us with whatever she
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could. And as I got older, I learned to
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appreciate that it's much harder to give all the love you have to
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someone when you have so little love.
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To give when it's so hard to dig and dig for more.
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To give that extra hug when you hate touching.
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To soothe crying When you hate tears.
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To speak softly When you want to shriek.
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Her love was not an overflowing fountain.
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I resented that when I was small.
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I wanted the mom who would grab me up from the school bus and
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swing me around laughing. Then we would go inside and she
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would have cookies in the oven and we would talk about my day
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and eat cookies and then she would give me a kiss and tell me
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to go do my homework at the table nearby.
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I got a mom that watched silently from the porch.
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So still the other kids joked she was a statue.
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Sometimes she remembered to ask me about my day.
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One day I had a horrible day. I came home miserable and
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sniffly. She was the same still mother
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and I started bawling. I told her I wanted a mom who
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loved me and made cookies and asked me questions.
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I screamed and cried the only way a small child can.
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When I was finally done, something had fractured in my
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mom's eyes. She got down in front of me and
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took me by the arms. Oh sweetheart, I'm trying.
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Her voice was low and tight and it made me start crying again.
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I found notes around the house after that.
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Ask em how her day was. Make cookies at 2:40 on Mondays.
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The kids like the orange Mac and cheese.
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Always up high. My mom was really tall and
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always in a place she would see. Throughout the years, the notes
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grew and she never forgot a single one.
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It's not that my mom didn't feel things.
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I know she felt things. Anger, love, protectiveness,
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exasperation. It's just that those things were
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deep and sometimes they would erupt like lava between the
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cracks and her rockiness. I remember one day we had gone
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shopping. A man came up to me and started
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talking. He was pleasant.
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I remember being flattered that a grown up thought I was worth
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talking to, that a grown up was interested in all my mindless
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chatter. I don't remember him being
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inappropriate. I'm not sure where my mom had
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gone, but then she was back. Her eyes had no weariness of the
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strange man. They were sharp and they were
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angry. Her lips were thin again, but
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this time they were pulled over her teeth.
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It was something between a smile and a snarl.
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They stared at each other. I don't remember if they talked.
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The man left. My brother and I sat in silence
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in the back seat on the way home.
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Her anger rolled through the car like a summer storm.
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The weight of it made me choke. We finally got home and my
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brother bolted from the car. I was moving to do the same.
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Oh sweetheart, she said. Come sit up here with me.
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I moved to the front seat, stomach sinking, tears already
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in my eyes. Have I mentioned that I wasn't
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made in my mother's image? I was soft through and through.
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I couldn't stand the idea of being in trouble.
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She drummed her nails on the steering wheel.
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They were perfectly done, perfectly sharp.
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Sweetheart, you shouldn't talk to strangers, they're dangerous.
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She was staring straight ahead. Her nails were still drumming.
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I could see her anger moving under her skin.
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It was a roiling, writhing thing.
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She gave a jerk of her head and I ran for the house.
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My dad met me at the door. He shooed me inside and went to
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talk to my mom. I watched her from a window,
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still drumming, lips still thin and stretched.
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Later, my dad told me something had happened to my mom a long
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time ago and that was why she got so mad.
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Later I learned that fear can make some people angry.
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I never asked what happened, but I had an idea.
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I was 23 when my mom was diagnosed with cancer.
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I never watched her waste away, never saw the life drained from
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her. The cancer was too fast for
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that. She was here and she wasn't, and
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I was lost. I sobbed and wailed.
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I sank deeper and down and lost and misery.
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There was no rock under my feet. I wanted my mom.
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I started dreaming of her after she died.
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She didn't look like I remembered.
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Her skin was pale. Her pupils had cracked like an
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egg and spread over parts of her eye, and when she looked at me
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it was sad. I would cry and tell her I miss
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her, apologize for any time I was obnoxious.
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I didn't listen, I didn't call enough.
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She would sigh a heavy sigh, one that reached from me in my bed
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to wherever she was deep in the ground.
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She would sigh and say, oh sweetheart, I'm dead.
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I dreamed of her less as time moved on, but I still dreamed,
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oh sweetheart, I'm dead. I was 27 when I moved into my
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first house. It was small and cozy and
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perfect for me. I loved the large windows and
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the friendly neighbors. I think what sold me though was
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the hardware. There were crystal door knobs
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and porcelain faucet handles like my mom always insisted on.
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My dad said she hated the way metal felt on her hands.
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I love that I felt my life was moving on and I was also guilty
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I was leaving my mom behind. I had been in the house for
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eight months when I dreamed of her again.
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She wasn't staring at me, listening to me cry and
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apologize. This time she was standing over
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me and she was angry. Oh sweetheart, how could you
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forget? How did you forget?
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I was crying again. I'd started to move on.
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I'd started to forget her. Her lips were blue as they
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pulled back. Her teeth looked too long.
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I told you, I told you over and over.
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Strangers are dangerous. She grabbed me.
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Her nails, perfect even as a corpse, cut into my arms as she
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hauled me up. I woke up when the bed dropped
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out from under me. I hit the floor with a slam.
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After that night, rolling out of bed and waking up seemed like a
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godsend. I was freezing, my blankets were
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gone and I thought my heart might be next.
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The way it was beating. I tried to catch my breath and
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between the loudness of my breathing, I heard glass
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breaking. One of those lovely large
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windows was now broken. I was up in a flash, sprinting
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towards the back door. She said strangers were
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dangerous. I was listening.
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They caught me in the hallway, pulled me back to the bedroom.
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They grabbed my hair and my clothes.
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They complained about how cold it was in the house while they
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covered my mouth and it was so cold the air I could suck in was
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frigid. The burning made it harder to
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breathe. I was on the floor near the
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door, so close to freedom. They were standing over me.
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It was silence for a minute. 2 predators enjoying having cop
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prey. We heard the creeks in the
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hallway first. They kept getting louder.
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Silence. The window started rattling.
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Tap, tap tap tap pause tap tap tap tap another pause tap tap
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tap tap tap. The tap started to roll
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together. The window was flailing in its
25:22
frame by now. I heard the men above me asking
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what the hell that was. I was shaking as bad as the
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window was, part fear, part cold, and part something else.
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And then everything stopped except the drumming.
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It was softer now, a smooth rolling tapping, and it wasn't
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coming from the window anymore. We all turned and saw her at the
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same time. She was in the doorway, drumming
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her nails on the frame. She took a step forward, They
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took a step back. I took their surprise and ran
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with it. I was out the door and in the
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hall, past the woman with the 2 long teeth and the sharp
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fingernails. I brushed against her and it
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burned. It felt like she had sucked all
26:07
the heat in the world into her. I heard shouting, drumming.
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I bounced off the wall and kept going.
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I heard a bang behind me. They were shooting my mom.
26:19
I started to turn around. They were shooting my mom.
26:24
And then silence, then more shouting.
26:27
How could someone be standing after being shot so close?
26:32
And then I heard her. A chuckle, A snigger.
26:37
That anger that moved under her skin came out in her voice.
26:42
Oh sweetheart, I'm dead. I started to run and I bet those
26:51
men wish they did too. The police said they must have
26:56
gotten confused and attacked each other in the dark.
26:59
They must have been on some serious drugs to do what they
27:03
did to each other.