Further north….

We made camp for a few days in the land of the Min Min lights, Boulia, on the banks of the Burke River in far west Qld.  Early each morning, the brolgas woke us with their squawking as they and flocks of other birds flew in to water holes along the river.  This was not our first visit to Boulia but this time we decided to check out a bit more of this corner of our wonderful wide brown land with its big sky, astonishing colours and blessed silence.  We explored all roads out of town, lunched by a permanent water hole along the Burke River watched by a small mob of cattle that we had dislodged from the shade of some coolabah trees – tra la la. Then well rested, we took a long day trip to the Diamantina National Park and the Gates of the Diamantina River so named because this is where a vast network of ‘braids’ – small streams, which make up the Diamantina - are gathered together and channeled through a narrow gap in the surrounding rocky hills, before once again trickling or flooding, depending on the time of year, across the plains.  It was an amazing real life geography lesson!  Like the intrepid explorers we are, albeit in air-conditioned luxury, we took the 100 odd K scenic route back from the Gates … hmmmm.  The only way you could tell you were on the right track, in fact any track, was if you saw faint wheel tracks or an occasional little post in the ground maybe every 5-10 K.  The ‘map’ seemed to contradict itself repeatedly (else it was written by someone who had never been there!). It was an adventure through clay pans, swamps, passed towering dunes, little side trips to permanent water where strange, alien-looking flowering plants stood wavering tall and spindly pumping out a heady scent, where cattle hoof prints sunk a foot (no pun!) into the mud along the shore, and where insects of a zillion varieties buzzed and flourished and birds struggled to rule the roost!  After a few wrong turns and not a little head scratching, we made it out of the ‘circuit’ close to dusk with a huge sigh of relief and headed back to town in fading light.  It was a fascinating day.  Having been bogged in remote places a few times when we have gone off ‘exploring’, we now take our sat phone everywhere, plenty of water and fuel, survival food, recovery gear and all that kind of stuff, plus our resources and common sense (sometimes) – we have survived all manner of things for a combined 140 years and we expect to do so for a lot more yet.

We decided to head for Burketown in the NW before turning east for the Cape to enjoy as much of the far west as possible but also to avoid the roads more frequently travelled by the grey nomads tracking north for the winter in long lumbering convoys – dare I say ‘caravans’. That NW journey took us through Mt Isa via Dajarra once the biggest cattle railhead in Australia trucking livestock from central and far west Qld to the east coast. An hour or so out of Dajarra, we came across a couple broken down by the side of the road and stopped to help – of course.  We couldn’t do much but they appreciated a few of our tools and encouragement. So there we stood in the blazing heat, and I mean very blazing heat, for a couple of hours trying to keep the sun off the poor guy lying half under the van and their spirits up – next time it could be us needing a hand, right?!

Mount Isa was just a pit stop to do washing and stock up on supplies before heading NW to Camooweal 13Ks from the NT border on the Barkly Hwy. And yes, of course we drove the distance to put our wheels in NT albeit only for a few minutes, but with a promise to return sometime soon. Then we chose the road much less travelled and headed north to Burketown via a dirt road deemed not suitable for caravans. What they really mean is for people who don’t want to get dust in their rig – hah! By this time we were carrying sufficient fine red dust to coat a beach full of sand and the car was a new rust coloured grey so a bit more wouldn’t be noticed.  When you think about it more than 75% of roads in Australia are dirt so if you are going to see Australia you’re going to end up with dust in your ears and everywhere else.  We left Camooweal too late that afternoon to make Burketown over 300Ks north so stopped at Gregory Downs, a cattle and horse station near Lawn Hill national park with ‘hotel’ and camp spot.  It was one VERY HOT night with no power and so no aircon, but we were able to use the fan powered by our little generator until the fuel ran out and we were too tired to refill. We survived and were rewarded next morning with a deliciously cool, relatively speaking, morning wandering under the trees watching birds.  Quite delightful.

Just as an aside we are using our DreamPot – a magic device which you fill with things like corned beef, a few vege, heat it up for a short time on the stove, pop it in the container and voilà you have a ready cooked meal when you pull up stumps at the end of the day. Cooking doesn't get much simpler than that.

Burketown pub was an oasis after the heart and dust of the road so we sat there for ages nursing ice cold drinks before hitting the road again.  Destination Normanton and the Gulf via wash outs, dry creek beds, dodging wandering cattle and the amazing Leichhardt falls – an astonishing swathe of water, rocks pools and falls dissecting the road – well worth a wander.

That section of the trip was a jumble of wild night winds, cattle, a detour 100 odd Ks out of Normanton, horses, having to jump in and out of the car to open and close gates, glorious curtains of stars at night and just the teeniest whisper of concern about the reason for the detour and where we camped – the winds seemed a bit ominous.  But the morning dawned clear and so with an honour guard of a small group of young cattle seeing us back onto the road, we took the detour – as well as a wrong turn which meant we had to backtrack over 30Ks.  We finally lumbered into Normanton, but not before ogling a ginormous croc sunning itself near the mighty bridge into town. We did the things you have to do – dinner at Karumba watching the sunset over the Arafura Sea, drinks (and dinner) at the Purple pub, drives around the water ways oohing and aahing over the beautiful waterlilies and water birds and most important keeping the seat down of the toilet to keep the tree frogs out and our feet away from the water to avoid becoming a croc snack. We were entertained morning and evening by a family of comical apostle birds, visited by skinks and a couple of cane toads, focussed our binoculars on man sized jabiru, flocks of brolgas, and swatted mozzies instead of flies – we had well and truly arrived in tropical Qld of the wet variety!