Friday, 25 July 2014

Day 49: The Isa

From unspoilt wonders, to a world heritage listed site to smoke stacks. That was today's journey.

Being in such an idyllic location we decided to rise early and walk to the top of the plateau overlooking Lawn Hill Gorge and watch the sun rise. It does matter how many times I have watched this golden firey star rise I never seem to get bored of it.




Breaking camp we stopped in at Riversleigh World Heritage Site.  I would recite the whole brochure we got as it is an amazingly fascinating place but I will leave to to one of my childhood idols.   Sir David Attenborough, said: "Only in one or two places on the surface of our planet, in the course of the last thirty million years, have conditions been just right to preserve anything like a representative sample of the species living at any particular time. Those places are the rare treasure houses of palaeontology. Riversleigh is one of them."  Walking past the pale hard limestone rocks with 15 million year old fossils of giant wambat like marsupials with stabbing teeth, huge "big bird"(Dromornithid) that stood over 2.5 metres tall and the 5 metre Baru crocodile it is amazing to think that this barren place was once a rainforest. 



We also passed through what was most likely to be our last water crossings as we headed in to the dry country. The Gregory River is part of the reason Riversleigh is one of the richest mammal sites in the world.

We finally reached the Barkly highway, leaving the dirt and rejoining the precession of caravans. Stopping at one of the rest areas there was a large 'Sandalwood tree' in the middle.  For those that don't know, this rare tree is called a 'Sandalwood' tree due to the numerous sandals, thongs and shoes dangling from its branches.  We did see if we could find a matching thong for Hux, but with none the correct size we decided to donate his single one to the tree.  If you need a single size 10 blue thong there is one on the road side stop approximately 100km from Mt Isa.

Reaching Mt Isa, the first thing that you notice well before you actually see the city are the large smokestacks reaching to the sky. The tallest towers over the city, a constant grey cloud emanating from its tip like the slow burning of a cigarette.  Next to it is a smaller candy-striped stack, disguising its emissions as a sweet lolypop. The shortest, and most likely the most toxic is sulphuric-acid haze from the phosphate mine.



Next to the ochre-red Selwyn Ranges, on the banks of the Leichhardt River, Mt Isa, or "the Isa" as the locals call it, is the world's largest single producer of copper, silver, lead and zinc in the world. There is no mistaking this as a mining town with every second car a 4WD with bright yellow reflective stripes down the side and a tall flag protruding from the bullbar.

I even contimplated buying a yellow sticker to go on the car as a souvenir but was not sure what Kathy would say so thought better of it.



But this is exactly why we came to The Isa.  And to fully experience it we had to go to the pub.  Our first stop was the Hotel Isa in the shadows of the smoke stack.  Thinking this would be a miners den, we were surprised to see an upmarket hotel full of well dressed families.  While we had one of the most fantastic Queensland steaks we decided we needed to find where the 'real men' drank so headed further out of town. 

Soon we came across the bleak Barkly Hotel with garish neon XXXX signs which looked a possibility.  Entering the front door the first thing you noticed through the cigarette smoke was the number of high visability orange shirts all covered in layers of dust. The only noticeable female was the young pretty bar girl who I am sure would have heard every chat up line imaginable.  It is a town where many have come to make their fortune in the mines only to drink much of it away over multiple beers.

In order to get the full experience Hux decided to also partake in multiple beers. With the assistance of XXXX we played pool with two young lads.  Despite our poor pool playing, luckily they were each more inebriated than us put together, ensuring we did not embarrass ourselves.



Deciding that we needed to call it a night before we ended up wearing orange shirts we made a quiet exit. 

Over the last month we have slept at some fantastic campsites under thousand stars. Tonight we went to bed in the shadow of a thousand lights, this time from the 24 hour mine looking over the City. It was a fitting way to end the night.

Thursday, 24 July 2014

Day 48: Canoe vs Croc

Having spent yesterday driving through the sparse woodland and open savannah plains, today was going to be a change exploring Lawn Hill Gorge. Over millions of years the ancient sandstone and limestone rocks have been gradually sculptured by prehistoric rains leaving behind rugged escarpments and gorges. 



To fully experience this we hired a canoe and left early as the suns first light was penetrating the gorge. Paddling through the jade green water, flanked by tall palms and and sheer red sandstone walls either side, the only sound was that of the morning call of the birds and the lapping of water against the canoe. Making our way the 4km paddle up stream we reached Indari Falls.



The green colour of the water is due to the limestone.  This same calcium carbonate is also laid down forming tufa (a brittle rock) creating the cascades, dams and falls.  Alternatively you can believe the Waannyi people who's stories involve Boodjamulla, or rainbow serpent, creating the gorge and its spring fed gullies.

Either way, dragging our canoe up and over one of the falls and entering the upper gorge, is a natural and spiritual wonder. 



Returning to Indari Falls, we went for a well deserved swim.  We also ventured behind the cascading waterfalls, foaming white water at our feet creating a natural spa bath.



Disconcertingly, paddling not far downstream we came across a freshwater crocodile, 3 metres in length sunning it self on the bank.  Getting a little too close, it filled it self with air, bearing its crooked needle like teeth giving us a warning in no uncertain terms who was boss.  With only a thin layer of plastic between him and us we took a hasty retreat leaving him to enjoy the late morning sun.

Further downstream we came across a second much smaller, but no less sharp teeth, croc sunning on a log.  By this stage the thoughts of going back in for a swim where quickly disappearing.



After an afternoon rest we ventured back out on the Island Stack walk which followed the top of the gorge.  After a steep climb the track weaves through the dark red rocks, lime green spinifex and olive sticky hop bush, all three forming a tapestry of colour.





Being the successful hunters we are, we discovered an echidna hiding amongst the spinifex, a combination of spines that would see any preditor thing twice.  We then watched the small Gilbert's Dragon sprinting from rock to rock, occasionally lifting its arm in a waving motion.  It is for this reason it's colloquial name is the Ta-ta lizard.  



As the sun slowly set it was also finally time to say Ta-ta to Lawn Hill.  Next stop.  The Isa.

Wednesday, 23 July 2014

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.

Tuesday, 22 July 2014

Day 46: One 'hell' of a Pi

Todays date is the 22/7. For any normal person this would have no significance but if your were a nerdy, weird school teacher (or Hux) then just the mention of this date gets you all excited with movement where it shouldn't.  It turns out that 22/7 is actually the fraction that is closest to Pi (anyone fallen asleep yet). This date is celebrated by ....... I am not sure how many people ........ but in honour we skipped breakfast with the hope of finding a pie at Borroloola where we were due to get fuel.  Amazingly we were in luck.  It turns out Borroloola must also celebrate Pi Day as they had some pies in the local shop. Taking our pies we found a spot on the McArthur River for breki.  Jay will be even more impressed that this was the second time we used the hexis he gave me to boil the billy.  Looks like he may be needing to ship me some more.


Back on the road we had several hundred km to travel through some very monotonous landscape.  It got to the point where we got excited when there was a sign saying 'dip' or even more excited a bend.  The corrugated road was occasionally interrupted by one of the numerous shallow creek crossings that drain across the the land  in to the gulf.



  After the 56,745 bumps in the road we reached the Queensland border.  While we unfortunately did not have a footy to kick over it, Hux insisted to get out of the car so he could walk over it. I was tempted to leave him there.

Further on there is a large unusual rocky outcrop, with boulders made from a whipped cream can rising from the plain.  This was also the same location as a photo in the Auatralian Geographic that Hux has been reading.  We clambered all over the rocks looking for the exact same location of the photo.  While not having much luck we still stood in awe on top of the rocky boulders looking out in to the wide open country.



Having lost 30 minutes due to the sun setting quicker in Queensland it was time to keep moving. Re-joining the Savannah Way we followed the path of the early cattle drovers who moved herds from NW Queensland to the NT where we finally went through Hell. Well that's actually Hells Gate.  In the 1800s this area was feared by travellers as beyond this point the Queenslamd Police could not guarantee safety from attack by the natives.  Today it is still feared by travellers due to the price of fuel. 

This one building roadhouse between nothing and know where with its international airport with cows grazing on the landing strip was another welcome distraction. 



Another distraction to this, otherwise mindless journey was reaching the 10,000km milestone. As we slowly  watched the trip meter count down with the aim of getting a photo.
9996 .......... 9997 .............9998 ............9999 .............0.       What the?



Then I realised that it only goes to 9999km then resets back to 0.  Well at least it broke the boredom for a while.

Luckily we were getting close to our next camp site - Kingfisher camp on the banks of the Nicholson River.  This idealistic bush site set amongst large shady river gums was a welcome break to today's long drive.  With the trip counter reset, our road trip has just restarted ready for the next adventure.

Monday, 21 July 2014

Day 45: No fishing (I promise) and a trip to the gulf

Last night we went to bed to an amazing light show.  Looking out from our camp the stars were reflecting off the mirror like McArther River.  In the distance, the orange glow from a fire lit up the horizon like some earie acoloyptic event.




By the morning we woke to a thick fog blanketing the River, it's earie fine mist twisting between the trees and our tents leaving beads of water behind.



"Fog is not good for catching fish" so we were told by a local last night.  Heading out we found a nice spot along the river to sit and watch the world go by. Obviously we didn't fish.   Eagles flew overhead spying an early lunch, competing with the water birds floating over the calm water.   Did I mention we did NOT go fishing.  



These were photos of two other blokes who decided to try their luck without listening to the locals.


After having enough of fishing,  oops, I mean sitting, we decided to head out and dip our toes in the Gulf of Carpentaria. 

The road out to the Gulf all of a sudden started to take on a mars like appearance with orange trees and shrubs lining the orange road.  It turns out that the road is used by haulage road trains taking iron ore from some far away hole in the ground to the Bing Bong Port.  Here it is stockpiled forming man-made mountain ranges before being transferred into barges then reloaded in to huge floating ships moared of the coast.



Unfortunately much of this part of the world is fenced with large signs warning of severe penalty for unauthorised access.  It is such a shame that parts of this great country of ours is denied access by large private corporations.  In my travels this trip I have had discussions with disgruntled fellow travellers about the need for permits to travel to Arnhem Land and other Aboriginal communities. I wonder why the same argument is not put about land owned by largely foreign companies who have only been here for 10s of years rather than 40,000 years.   I guess this is a debate not talked about much due to the $$$.



Despite this we followed one track, then 2 wheel ruts, then one lone wheel track that weaved through the coastal wetland, mangrove and salt marsh. Following our nose, we knew that the gulf had to be close. We couldn't drive any further, so left the car with the hope that a large tide does not maroon us, or even worse, we see the white prado float out past one of the ore tankers. Picking our way through the mud flats we reached the torques blue water with the Sir Edward Pellew Islands on the horizon. From here we collected shells, looked at flotsam that had likely travelled from some far country, tried to find Hux an extra thong, and marvelled at the remoteness of where we were standing.



This was to be the last sighting of coastal water until we return to Sydney. Our journey was soon to take us back inland to the heart of Australia.  Back to desert country. But for now we just stood and looked out into the ocean, glad that we decided not to go fishing today...........






Sunday, 20 July 2014

Day 44: Leaking Boat on Crocodile Spring

This morning we headed back out again through the wilderness park to a small waterway called 'crocodile spring'.  While just the thought of being with those prehistoric creatures was fun enough, we knew it would be even better as the owners leave a small boat for you to take out.



The creek was unspoilt, with a carpet of water lillies and tall paperbarks, their branches reaching out to meet in the middle as though they are trying to hold hands.

The boat however was less ideal. Not much bigger than a standard bath tub, the idea of both me and Hux managing to row out in to the creek without tipping in to the dark water was going to be a challenge.  Thinking that Hux would be more of a meal for any hungry croc than me, we hopped in the boat.  Me at the front, and Gix at the rear, precariously close to the water.  Slowly paddling through the still water leaving the bearest of ripples behind, it was a hard way to spend the morning.




After reaching dry land we moved on to Ink Spot Pool, where we were reassured that swimming was ok. While I passed, Hux being more confident now, jumped in saying something about being a 'croc whisperer'. A quick swim and it was time to leave camp and get back on the dirt. Then disaster struck.  We had a blow out of the rubber.   We were going to be in trouble as we still had a lot of rough ground to cover in the next 2 weeks.  We made an attempt to get it fixed but knew it would not last.  The question was - what next?...

Luckily it was only Graeme's thong so we hoped we may be able to buy a new pair when we get to the next town. After several hundred km we had a small taste of civilisation reaching the black top of the Carpentaria highway. But not for long as we turned off on our way to King Ash Bay on the edge of the Gulf of Carpentaria.

King Ash Bay is actually a fishing club who also provide a camp site for travellers.  On the McArthur River, it is a gathering point for many who have fish in their blood.  By the look of the set up of many camps, many come and stay for months or even years.  Luckily we got a great spot right on the river (despite the crocs luckily there was a steep bank so we hoped they were not good at climbing).



With an open air club where dress regulations stipulate a minimum of singlet and thongs (I wondered if they will let Hux in with only one thong), we spent the evening leaning up against the bar watching the weekly trivia night and chatting to someold salties.

As we only had 2 nights here, the aim was to extract as much local knowledge before we hit the water tomorrow in the hope of catching the big Barra.

I got the immediate feeling that this was going to be no easy task with the ideal fishing holes being kept secret from these 'two blow-ins'. One old fella told us "I've been here a month and hadn't been going out".

We were told that "there was nothin biting", "the water was too cold for fish at the moment", "they needed water in the gulf to heat up a bit" and "I wouldn't bother". It was impossible to tell if this was the truth or a way of not giving any secrets.

However, I did ask the same old fella later in the eavening what are some good excuses when we don't catch anything and he told us " just tell them you've been here a month and hadn't been going out".  Looks like the fish will be the winners tomorrow.

Saturday, 19 July 2014

Day 43: Nudity at Lorella Springs


This morning we spent the time watching the sun rise over the Lost City with the slow glow of light illuminating the monoliths. This was not where we planned on camping but the itinery started to take on less meaning as we settled in to outback time.



I have noticed when you travel in the outback you become much more in tune with the rising and setting of the sun.  Time is dictated by the light from the brightest star than the watch on your wrist. Days of the week start to begin to loose their meaning and dates are constructed numbers.  I wonder what life is like when you retire - when there is no such thing as a work week or school term? I wonder if that why they invented Christian religion so we knew when Sunday was?


(A great view to wake up to - the Lost City - NOT Hux!)


Leaving the Lost City, again a decision was needed. Do we skip Lorella Springs and head straight to King Ash Bay in order to get back on itinery or make the 30km diversion?  We may never get back to this part of the world? I really should go as it is important if I am going to write a story for the 4WD magazine? We can make up the time at the end of the trip by driving the last 1000km in a day?  Throwing the watch out the window we headed to Lorella Springs.

Not far out of the Lost City the sky darkened as the road headed towards one of the ever present fires. The flames laped the edge of the road, it's crackling sound echoing through the car as the smoke enveloped it.  On the road, in the trees, in the sky, were hundreds of black kites looking for any helpless animal escaping the red inferno.  It was reminiscent of the scene from the Alfred Hitchcock movie 'The Birds'.

Having survived the fire, we soon arrived at Lorella Springs, a privately owned wilderness property on the edge of the Gulf of Carpentaria covering over 1million acres (which Hux informs me is actually over 4 billion square metres).  It is a place of eccentric travellers and itinerates who are wanting to find a place of isolation. And isolated it is. 

While there are hundreds of km of 4wd tracks to explore we only had the day so chose to venture out to Nannys Retreat.   The track winds its way for more than hour through the dry spinifex and across creek crossings (more on that later), 2 wheel ruts the only guide preventing you from spending more time that expected out here.

Where the 4wd track finished another walking  track began, which eventually leads you to a majestic boulder strewn mountain range. At the base of the range a spring fed creek flows into crystal clear pools with ferns clinging to the rock edge.  At one point the water is constricted between two rock walls with the gorge no wider than the span of your outstretched arms.





Not only were we hundreds of km from the nearest town, and we were at a place that very few Europeans had visited, but we had the entire gorge to ourselves.  Some primeval instinct must have taken over as clothing was dispensed with as I plunged into the cool water.  I know this is a boys trip, and I should not admit getting naked, but I must say it was one of the most fantastic feelings swimming in a location so remote as this. At least I knew I was not going to frighten a bus load of Japanese tourists. (Note: luckily there is no photographic record of this event).

Exploring more, we entered an immense cave carved from eons of water flowing through it.  Moving through the cave it came alive with the movement of hundreds of dragon flies.



With the setting of the sun telling us it was time to head back we had one more thing to do.  And that was for Hux to take control of the $60,000 4WD and try not to stall it in the river crossing so I could get some good photos.  Luckily I gave him lesson number 2 in how to 4WD.  If he drowns the car he is telling Kathy!  Luckily both car and us made it across safely deserving a cold beer at the bush bar.



The evening was spent around the open bar re-living stories from the trip (although my version seems to be very different) and reflecting that it is days like today where time takes on a different meaning.  It is not about start and finish. Not about deadlines. Not about what you have to do tomorrow.  

It is about savouring the moment as it is. Taking a deep breath and experiencing the now.  
  










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