Heather's travel notes: Valentines Day plus one

And so to one of the aims of this trip - to drive the Darling River Run! After years waiting for the roads to be open when we’re there, we did it - at least from Brewarrina to Wentworth over 800Km. Hooray!!

The Darling River system is huge. From Walgett to Wentworth it measures about 950 km; the third longest river in Australia. Its source, a matter for some debate, is a collection of rivers and creeks which fan out like unravelling rope snaking east and also north into Queensland. However .... from somewhere maybe around Walgett (Aboriginal meaning ‘meeting of two waters’) where there is confluence of main tributaries, the ‘river’ flows on to Wentworth where it joins the Murray. It’s the lifeblood of the NSW outback - if they get the water! A destroying combination of low rainfall and cotton - diabolical!

I’ve talked about the busy river trade, ports and bridges along the extent of the river in other posts so let me tell you about the last leg of our little adventure along the Darling between Bourke and Wilcannia and back again - a round trip of close to 700Km.

It was awe inspiring in its vastness - the diversity and ruggedness, the colours and textures of the land were fascinating to see and to experience. Endless stretches of flatness, beautiful trees, bare earth, scrubby dry salt bush and grasses, brilliant patches of green where recent rain has stirred dormant plants to raise their hopeful heads. Chunks of the region have been designated National or Conservation Parks and hopefully that might give the land some time to recover - if the stock is kept off it. The dryness is sad and the struggle to survive that the graziers are facing is heartbreaking. We passed one farmer and his family dragging dead cows into a pile to be buried having been poisoned by hay that had been brought in the help feed his stock. He lost 80 odd head and more were at risk. Tragic!

The quietness was a balm - in spite of the heat and wind, the dust and rough roads (we saw only one or two vehicles). Being out there in that stillness away from it all, you come back to what’s important, you come back to yourself. It’s wonderful!

The journey was a tad taxing physically as the road was chopped up in some places, corrugated and/or deep in sand and dust in others. We saw lots of evidence of past flooding with wide swathes washed away to form undulating and in places deep gullies. The van? Not too bad all things considered. Bloody good rig and driver combo!! Two intensive days - we celebrated with champers in Louth on our return trip.

The pub at Louth. We stayed in the caravan ’park’ beside the pub on the way back to Bourke.

One of the four lift span bridges built in the 1880-90s along the Darling-Barwon to accommodate the paddle steamers pulling barges loaded with wool and supplies to pass up and down the river.

Along its course, the river varies from scattered water holes (sadly like now) to a width of 80Km when in flood. This is at Louth. Interestingly it seems that salinity is not a new phenomenon (along it is increasing). Explorer Charles Sturt named the Darling ‘Salt River’.

This is rather splendid almost like a parkland - without the grass.

The Tilpa pub. Not a lot going on here!

The pub is corrugated Iron inside and out and almost every inch of wall and ceiling is written on.

Saw many huge spreading trees along the road. I reckon these are coolibahs. Just loved them.

Sign of rain not too long ago. The surface of the cracked mud was lifting up in curls like wood shavings.

I believe this is a copperbur. You can see it has forced its way up through the now drying mud.

All of a sudden we started to see patches of vivid green. Stopped to look of course - saltbush which is a fodder alternative when all else is gone. Recent rain you think?!

Lost count of the number of grids we encountered. There were hundreds.

What an expanse! May not be able to see here but the horizon was punctuated with countless columns of dust rising high in the air.

Sign of rain not too long ago. The surface of the cracked mud was lifting up in curls like wood shavings.