Day 47: Cattle and a cross
We woke to another glorious sunny morning with the temperature expected to reach 30 deg C. Standing on the bank of the Nicholson River (NOT fishing) I was pondering what it was like back in Sydney.
After finishing fishing - I mean pondering - we packed camp, moving on to Lawn Hill National Park. The road out was much more interesting than the last couple of days with numerous ruts full of bull dust, narrow winding sections and river crossings.
Passing a large billabong, we stopped to watch 6 majestic Jabiru and a large number of pelicans before they took flight, climbing on the eddies until they were mere dots against the ocean blue sky.
Further on flocks of budgies streaked from bush to bush, flashes of green and yellow as they flew. Opening the widow it sounded like a pet shop with their chirping.
Travelling through numerous paddocks, with one even titled 'accident paddock', the eyes of a hundred Brahmin cattle watched us through the low bushes. They must have wondered what was going on watching Hux open and close what fealt like a hundred gates. You would think he would have mastered this but he managed to open the gate; let me drive through; close the gate; and then stand there with a quizzical perplexed expression wondering why he was locked on the wrong side. The cattle must have been laughing as hard as I was.
Cattle have been in the Gulf since the early 1800s. Over time these leases grew to the point that in 1976 Lawn Hill Station was 11,000 sq km, one of the largest in Queensland. At the time this was run by the 'cattle king' Sebastiao Maria, who arrived from Brazil in search of a new life.
Passing through the station a large hill appeared in the distance with an enormous white cross at its pinnacle. Getting closer you notice a steep 4WD track leading up to the cross.
Now if you decide to pass this way, here are some lessons.
Lesson 1: walk the track first
Lesson 2: don't attempt this hill with a trailer on the back
Lesson 3: don't attempt this unless you have lockers and a lift
Not following any of these lessons we blasted at the hill but came to a halt not long after the first rock step. Precariously reversing back down I am glad we did not get any further as the track became vertical with large holes big enough to swallow the car. Taking the more sensible approach we walked to the top providing panoramic views over this vast land.
It turns out that the cross is a monument erected by Sebastiao Maria in memory of his parents. The good news was that Maria also surrendered 12,200 hectares of the station for a National Park.
Arriving at Lawn Hill (also called Boodjamulla) we set up camp and did a late eavening stroll along one of the limestone creeks through pandanus fringed pools.
Unfortunately there is no campfires allowed on the National Park but despite being more than 200km from Mt Isa, by some quirk of Telstra, we had phone reception. So the evening was spent around the glow of the ipad updating the blog.
Post script: if anyone travelling along the road from Kingfisher Camp to Lawn Hill happens to notice a cow wearing a single blue hardly used thong please return it to Hux. It appears that having replaced the blown ones only two days ago, one has fallen out of the car at one of the 100 gates he had to get out for. Looks like we are going shopping in Mt Isa.
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