Not far out of Mataranka we hit the turn off for the Roper Highway, the first of our journey on the Savanah Way. We were finally leaving the convoy of caravans behind us and returning to more remote country.  While the initial road was not dirt it was just as challenging being tar for the width of the car only.  This was Ok until you had an oncoming 4wd.  Then it became a precarious dance as both vehicles delicately placed one set of wheels on the dirt shoulder and passed each other hoping not to slide off. Luckily there were very few cars out this way.  The only real sign of previous vehicles was the road kill and the huge eagles feasting on the rotting carcasses.  As we approached one, it decided that the meal was too good to give up.  With several flaps of its huge outstretched wings it rose in the air, shredded meat hanging from its claws. Ideally I would tell you what species of eagle it was, but Hux decided that the bird book was going back to Sydney.  Instead we have 'Reptiles of Australia' - not something I hope to be encountering.

Despite being classified as a Highway, The narrow road finally gave way to dirt with its narrow rutted corners, pot holes full of bull dust and boulder filled water crossings.  This is definitely a place where you will not find a sign with the Golden Arches advertising their fat and sugar.

Soon we reached Roper Bar and time to refuel.  Don't expect your typical servo out here. Instead you have a house behind a wire fence.  Filling up I noticed that they wrote down my rego. Inquiring why, it was in case we decided to do a runner. Now at $2.20lt I can appreciate why.  

For lunch we ventured down to the causeway that crosses the Roper River.  While we did not need to go over I couldn't let a water crossing go undone so with Hux being the photographer I hit the water.  While I had fun going over and back we laughed at a couple who made the trip 6 times as the wife was a photographer and wanted to get just the right photo. Is this every mans dream....or just me?

From here it was on to camp at Lamarieum Lagoon. The Lagoon stretched for as far as the eye could see with a carpet of pink and mauve water lilies bringing Monet's painting to life. 

 While the idealic setting would have made for a nice camp site, not wanting to be crocodile dinner, we decided to camp further back up on the hill next to the ruins of some old buildings. Lighting a camp fire we sat under the shandaleirs of a thousand stars with nobody but the crickets as company.  Sitting listening to the silence of the remote outback Hux commented that this is what he had come for. This was camping.