Our Aussie Adventures

Our reverie was again interrupted this morning, by a knocking on the door at the ever so unsociable hour of 8:00AM. This time, it was one of the park employees, enquiring as to whether we were indeed intending on checking out this morning. Apparently there were vans lining up, out onto the street, all playing caravan park lottery, and hoping to win a much vaunted plot here. I assured our otherwise unwelcome guest that we would be on our way at some point in time during the morning, before quickly snuggling back beneath the blankets in a vain attempt to get a final 20 minutes of shut eye before the alarm screeched out its wake up siren. Further slumber was not to be found however, as the early morning park noises stymied any chance I may have had.

Instead, we just got up and sluggishly, rather than swiftly set about getting the van in order for a day of travel. It was nice to be able to take our time, rather than make a mad dash at getting ready, before scooting out of the park 10 or 15 minutes late as we have become accustomed to. In fact, even with the necessary wrangling of getting the van out of the way too small a site, then driving a huge arcing loop of the park as there was no way to turn around on the tight access paths (they were too diminutive to even be considered access roads), we still managed to hit the road running, with 10 minutes to spare before the 10:00AM dead line. If nothing else, that’s another 10 minutes earlier that we’ll be returning home.

On the road again, our plan for the day was just to drive. That said, it’s only a small day today, of around 250KM, to reach our planned roadside stop. So, off we motored, with the compass flitting between the cardinals of south and west, our onward journey continued.

One of the rocky outcrops.

It was again through scenery that could have been lifted from a calendar of landscape photographs that we were travelling. Each and every bend in the road, opened up as if you were unwrapping a Christmas gift, the present in this case being the never ending vistas with which we were confronted. What looked like rolling hills, caused the horizon to take on the appearance of a roller coaster, while closer examination of the same hills as we passed them by, showed them in their true form. Looking like mounds of waste from a long extinct and giant mining operation, they appeared to the naked eye to be created from piles of truck and car sized boulders, carelessly strewn about the landscape like long forgotten toys of mother nature. The bright red dirt has also gone for the time being, replaced with a vivid orange hued variety that looks more like river sand than red silty dust.

It wasn’t even 1:00PM when our day on the road was brought to a halt by our arrival at the camp ground. I had two picked out, the second hardly 10 minutes further on down the road, but every indication I had, suggested this first one to be the pick. It seemed lucky therefore, that we timed our arrival for quite early in the day, because even though it is a well proportioned rest area, split into two large main camping areas, available spots were already few and far between. It may have something to do with this being the nearest free camp to the Bungle Bungles, and many of the vans seem to be sitting forlornly without an accompanying tow vehicle, indicating that many of the campers are using the area as a base camp while they go off exploring further afield. I could indeed see the allure of spending more than just one night at this idyllic spot, perched on the banks of a meandering stream, in the middle of no where, miles from anywhere. Although, on further scrutiny, maybe not in the middle of nowhere. Interestingly we are close enough to civilisation that we have mobile phone and Internet coverage.

We nestled our rig between two soaring trees, which thrust a dark shadow of shade across the van, in the futile hope that it would help maintain a relatively cool temperature within. It was a good theory, but it didn’t make much of a difference, as the heat quickly invaded the van.

Far from being discouraged after our last free camp and the fireworks fiasco, we plan to continue making use of the freebies where and whenever they suit us. Tonight is to be one of those nights, as we strike camp about 100KM out of Halls Creek, leaving a quick hop into town in the morning. We could easily have made the distance to Halls Creek today, but it would have seen us arriving mid-afternoon, with no guarantee of getting a site at the towns only caravan park, not to mention paying whatever the nightly tariff is for the convenience of sitting in the van and doing nothing. Why bother, when we can do that right here, for the princely sum of nothing. That said, I am not about to go and leave our van sitting here alone, especially with the dogs locked within, in the heat of the day, to go off to the Bungle Bungles.

Plans had been afoot, for us to take in these marvelous rock formations, but being within the boundaries of a national park, Alvin and Bethany weren’t able to join us anyway. Then there was the not so insignificant fact that the 50KM trek in is estimated to take about 2 hours, such is the condition of the access road, upon which only 4X4 vehicles are allowed. That would have been about 2 hours too much for Bec to handle, so we waved the white flag of surrender on this one, vowing to return another time perhaps.

We did however chat to a couple of backpackers who had driven along the 50KM four wheel drive track in their unquestionably 2 wheel drive only combie-van, only to be turned back by the ranger at the park entrance gate, with a stern talking too. Although, I did later comment to Bec, when we saw the same back packer, walking about the camp ground by the light of a nice bright head torch, getting her self disoriented, that even with a head light on she could hardly be considered that bright.

Bethany has her eye on something.

Possibly the ruddy great bull that sidled through the camp.

We were left with a good many hours this afternoon and this evening, in which to do nothing more than relax in the shade of the van, while waiting for the cooler nighttime hours to bring about a sense of relief to the interior temperatures again. It was quite pleasant however, kicking back with a cold beverage, chatting to other campers about their travels, and wondering, with no small amount of smugness, what everyone is doing back home, while at the same time, composing this, in the bizarre knowledge that I will be able to post it, at a reasonable hour, on the right date and from right here in the middle of the nowhere. It hardly seems right to call it the outback when we have all the mod cons of home does it?

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.

We were ever so rudely awoken before the pealing of the alarm again today. This time by a savage knocking on the door, that had me scrambling to see what the problem was. At least it was at the semi-reasonable hour of 8:30AM.

As a result of the odd angles upon which we have had to park ‘The Beast’, in an effort to contain its fenders within our site, it has made it next to impossible for the neighbours to extract their van from their site, without causing damage to ‘The Beast’. I therefore rapidly set about finding somewhere else to park, thankfully finding the neighbours on the other side have set out for the day in their campervan, leaving the site free for us to use as a temporary car park.

Despite my best efforts, I wasn’t able to get back to sleep after all of this, and Bec was now fully awake as well. Rather than wasting away the day, we got up and began getting ready for our day out. We’re heading off on a day trip to nearby Wyndham, about 100Km north of Kununurra.

It was already nearly 10:00AM, despite our best efforts to get underway somewhat earlier, by the time we departed the van park. Our first point of interest upon which we were calling was the local Zebra Rock Gallery. This place was somewhat more professionally run than the rock gallery we visited in Katherine, although you could say that the prices were also more professional. The rock itself, which lends its name to the gallery, is an oddity, the likes of which you don’t often get to see. It is mined nearby, in what is one of only a handful of mines dedicated to this brown and grey striped rock. In fact, the east Kimberleys region is the only known source of Zebra Rock in the world, and given that the mine spends nine months of the year underwater, the cost to purchase a sample is of no great surprise.

As well as housing a gallery of Zebra Rock artifacts and carvings, there was an artist in residence, who was happy to display her skills at carving the stone, a series of avian cages from which many a cockatoo was happy to greet us with a shrill “hello”, a café serving all kinds of country delicacies, none of which we tasted due to having not long ago had breakfast and an expansive green lawn leading down to the shores of a small lake. It was down by the lake, hanging out over the edge of a short jetty, where the most fun was to be had. Our gold coin donation that bought us entry into the gallery, also included a piece of stale bread each, which when broken up into tiny morsels, we threw into the lake. Each piece was attacked in a feverish frenzy of cat fish, dozens darting up towards the surface in a rush of foam and bubbles, piling up on top of one another in a mad show of determination to win the prize of a wadded up bit of bread. It kept us entertained for ages, as the scraps of bread we threw out grew ever smaller as we tried to extend our amusement.

Our entertainment had to draw to an end however, as we navigated further north, heading for Wyndham. We have heard varied reports of Wyndham, from “don’t bother”, to “it is a fantastic little town”. In any case, we had decided to go and find out for ourselves. Regardless of what our final assessment would be of the town, we found the scenery along the way to be worthy enough of making the drive. We were driving through scrub and bush, the ever present east Kimberley ranges seeming to be only a stones throw away, as they rose from the vegetation as great red and green hillocks.

Arriving at Wyndham, we decided that the best way to get an overview of the town, was to do exactly that, by ascending to the upper reaches of the Five Rivers Lookout. Perched high atop one of the soaring hillocks, it was reached by a narrow, twisty stretch of tar. With the windscreen full of nothing but sky at times, as we negotiated tight, blind switchbacks that tested to the extreme, the turning circle of ‘The Beast’ we finally made it to the upper car park. From the viewing platform, we were able to look out over the Wyndham Port, the sprawling salt flats and not least, the meeting of the five major rivers in the area as they flow out to meet the sea. The expansiveness of the scene is difficult to describe, and even to the eye it was challenging to comprehend, as cars took on the form of ants, scurrying along the thin line of brown that was the main road.

From atop the lookout.

It doesn’t look so high from down here.

Returning to sea level was an easier proposition, or so it felt, than escalating, and we were soon on our way to see the largest known Boab Tree in captivity. Well, that’s how the tourist brochures describe it. Nestled toward the back of the Wyndham Caravan Park, it is believed to be more than 2000 years old. We have seen plenty of Boab Trees along side the road while we have been travelling, but none could hold a candle to this example. In a word, it is ‘huge’.

The largest Boab Tree in captivity.

Walking back through the caravan park, we were followed by a clip, clopping noise that, as we turned around, we found to be a shaggy haired donkey, following us down the path. Bec stopped to pat it first, but shied away when it shook its head, baring its teeth menacingly. Scared that it was going to bite her, Bec thrust me towards it. I fearlessly went to give it a scratch on the cheek, only to nearly jump out of my skin as he threw his head around, slack jawed, ready to feast, I was sure, on my arm. So savagely did I withdraw my hand, I punched myself in the chest almost hard enough to knock the wind from me. The donkey turned out to be rather friendly, rather than ferocious though, when I found a spot just behind its ear that needed a scratch.

I’ve been adopted by a family of giants.

A drive about town then brought us to a small outdoor exhibition of antique rail engines and carriages, of the sort that has previously been used here on the wharf. An inexplicable family of oversized, copper aborigine effigies inhabits another park, while on the outskirts of town is the 20 metre long crocodile sculpture. That though, was the extent of what we could find of noteworthy merit in Wyndham, before we set ‘Shazza’ to point us back towards Kununurra and the van.

The big crocodile welcomes visitors to Wyndham.

We returned to the van for a couple of hours of much needed rest, before heading back out again. We managed to witness a second sun set from the lakefront, before heading back into town. We are heading off again tomorrow, heading into the wilds between here and Broome. Without knowing what to expect at the places we are hoping to visit, we haven’t made too many plans, so can only say that we will be staying in a roadside camp area for at least one night, but maybe as many as 3 or 4 as we make our way further west. Not only that, but depending on how we go with caravan parks allowing us to leave the dogs behind while we go off exploring, it might be up to a week before we finally reach the coast and roll into a town of any great size. Therefore, it was an absolute necessity that we stock up on groceries tonight.

Another beautiful sunset over the lake.

This also means that I can’t say for sure as to when the next installment of our adventures will hit the airwaves. Stay tuned though, because it will be out there as soon as our Internet coverage allows.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.

With no early morning wake up call, courtesy of a carload of knuckleheads with a box full of pyrotechnics, we managed to have a thoroughly recuperative sleep over night. It didn’t go astray that we left the air conditioner running, set for a low enough temperature that we needed to snuggle beneath the doona to keep ourselves warm. It was pure bliss. When we did arise, it was to yet another fine morning.

Our plan of attack for today was to have a proper look around the town of Kununurra, before venturing a little further afield. So we started our adventures at the shopping centre. There are all of your basic needs spread between this centre and the surrounding block or so in which the main retail area is clustered. We spent some more time picking up supplies for dinner, before taking a wander through the other shops. A sports store, a camping shop and a clothing store contained little of interest for us, but kept us busy for a while.

There was also the big (by Kununurra standards anyhow), fancy premises which houses Kimberly Fine Diamonds. As the Argyle Diamond Mine is only a little way south of Kununurra, I had expected the fruits of the mine to be available here. I also had a city-centric expectation that a shop such as this would have a security guard posted at the entrance, checking IDs and whispering into a two way radio to have the door unlocked, which in my mind would be constructed from thick bullet proof sheets of glass, opening into a sterile, carefully climate controlled showroom, more reminiscent of an operating theater than a shopping mecca. I could imagine glass display cases arranged under powerful, ultra-white lighting, being attended to by stylishly coiffured ladies wearing black sleeveless dresses and white cotton gloves.

The reality could have been no further from my visions. There was no guard to turn us away, as we pushed the ever so regular looking door open, to enter a warm, welcoming retail space. There was giftware of all sorts scattered about the shop, while a couple of retail assistants, which at least nearly lived up to my dream, stood behind the long glass counter filled with rack upon rack of exquisite diamond jewelry. If the shop itself didn’t reach my lofty ambitions, the jewelry did, as did the prices naturally. Beautiful rings, studded with stunning coloured diamonds for which the Argyle Diamond Mine is renown, all wearing little price tags with too many zeros for my bank balance to comprehend. I had to drag Bec out, before she brought our trip to an early and sudden conclusion due to a lack of funds with which to continue.

Next door was an Aboriginal art gallery. From first impressions, it appeared to be just a small room, the walls covered in the bright coloured works for which Australian indigenous people are known. Display panels were set out across the floor space, each filled with further works of art, all for sale. Beyond this first small room, the gallery spread out across several more spaces, and was much larger than we first thought. It was I who needed to be dragged, kicking and screaming, out this time, as I fell in love with an energetic, yellow and orange toned piece of art that looked like bolts of lightning streaking across the outback.

With us both ruminating about what could have been, had we won the lotto last week, we finished up our otherwise unsuccessful shopping expedition, and made our way sadly back to ‘The Beast’. Our next stop is about 10km out of town, amusingly enough, at a distillery where we may be able to drown our sorrows.

The ‘Hoochery Distillery’ lays claim to being Australias oldest, continuously operating, legal still. I personally think that if you need to add so many clauses to a claim to fame, well, it sort of softens the impact a little. Given that they produce rum here though, and I drink rum, I was always going to drop in, regardless of any claim to fame that they might proffer. For $5.00, you get a tasting paddle. Your choice of 3 tipples, served in shot glasses over ice. With 5 different rums and a couple of liqueurs from which to choose, narrowing the field to 3 was a herculean task. I ended up doing what any true, discerning rum drinker would. First I selected the low end, cheap, regular, everyday, that if I like I might even buy a bottle of rum. Then, as a comparison, I went with the 2 ultra expensive, single barrel, over proof distillations, knowing full well that this would be the only way I could hope to taste them, as I had about as much chance of purchasing a bottle of either of them as I did my painting or Becs new diamond ring.

Wouldn’t mind rolling one of them out to ‘The Beast’.

As it turned out, I was only tempted by one of the expensive tipples, but it was hardly worth considering a bottle, regardless of price, considering I still prefer my rum over Coke than over ice. I did pick up a jar of breakfast marmalade, that promises to have a generous portion of rum in the recipe, as a consolation. We also sat down to lunch here, sharing a plate of fish and chips. The fish was a delectably tempura battered, local salt water Barramundi. Easily some of the best fish I have eaten in quite some time.

Lighter in the head by three shots of hard liquor, we stopped next at ‘The Sandalwood Factory’ which specialises in all manner of beauty products. It is more a shop and café than a tourist attraction, although there was a little theater set up in the back corner, where I joined a gaggle of other men who were also waiting patiently for their other halves. A rather ingenious way I thought, of making sure the lady folk and metro-sexuals had all the time they needed to browse the jam packed shelves of lotions and creams that made all sorts of claims.

Bec didn’t spend a great deal of time browsing, so I didn’t manage to see much of the program being screened in the theatre, but from what I could glean, it was a self promotional program about the sandal wood process. I am sure it would have even included a little segment about how the sandal wood makes its way over to China, before being returned as sticks of incense labeled: “Made in China from Australian ingredients”. In all fairness however, many of their products do seem to be made right here in Western Australia, just much further south in Albany.

Kellys Knob Lookout was next. Now, who Kelly is and why she has a knob were not explained, but explanations weren’t required for the lavish views across Kunnunurra that were afforded to us from the summit. Whilst sunset might be the better time for a viewing, the middle of the day provided us with a clear view over kununurra, out across the low lying plains to the distant encircling ridges. Simply spectacular, and only a minutes drive from the centre of town.

Looking up (that’s me at the top).

Looking down.

Back at the van, we sat chatting to our neighbours for a while, enjoying the cool shade beneath the gently rustling trees. The onset of dusk had us scrambling for the camera and the dogs though, as we rushed down to the lake front to get a few snaps of the sunset. It was not as impressive as I had hoped, but the dogs enjoyed a walk, before it was time to cook dinner and settle down for the night. As I continued flapping my gums with the neighbours, Bec prepared dinner, and firmly nominated me as chief (and only) dishwasher again. Oh well, it’s the price I have to pay.

The sun sets over the lake.

And I’m falling for it!

Bec’s trying to fatten me up for Christmas.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.

Despite the stagnant, uncirculating hot air causing an oppressive clime within the van, I had finally drifted off to sleep. A sleep that no doubt soon became a deep trance. Then, BANG, BANG, BANG. I woke with a start, my heart racing and my eyes stinging like I’d run face first into a bush of nettles. BANG, BANG, BANG. There it went again. We were under attack, under siege. BANG, BANG, WHIZZ. Bec was quivering as I shoved her to the safety of the floor, amongst the explosions and flashes, while I inexplicably ran up and down inside the van, end to end. What I had hoped to achieve, scrambling about in the dark, profoundly and suddenly self consciously naked, too disorientated to even find a light switch, I don’t know.

The clamor had faded by the time I finally found that light switch, allowing me to check that Bec and the dogs were safe. I was breathing in quick ragged rasps, my heart feeling like it was about to beat straight through the wall of my chest, while I forced open, my still sleep deprived, stinging eyes just enough to check my watch. 4:30AM. I slowly came to enough to realise that someone had just put on an impromptu display of fireworks for the benefit of all of us sleeping campers, causing Bethany to fly into a fever pitch disposition of sheer panic. There is but one adjective I can think of to describe those whose Saturday night entertainment consists of driving out to the middle of nowhere to lay terror on a group of unsuspecting caravanners and campers. The word however, is an unpublishable, vulgar portrayal of a females reproductive organs, but I am sure you get the picture.

I had to spend the next ¾ of an hour sitting up, eventually getting Bethany settled down from her dread, while Bec precisely laid out her plans for exactly what she would like to do to those who had so callously interrupted our slumber and caused us such angst.

Sleep didn’t come easily after our ‘attack’, and when the alarm sounded at 8:30AM, it felt as if I hadn’t slept at all. A knock on the door got me out of bed though, as John from the van next door wished us well for the remainder of our trip and kindly passed on their details, with an even kinder invite to join them at home for dinner when we pass through their home town of Geraldton. I might just have to take them up on the offer, as any dinner we don’t have to cook or wash up after is a good dinner in my book.

And off we go again.

Boab Trees are becoming a regular sight.

We weren’t too far behind them, gaining another five minutes as we rolled out of the campground at 8:55AM. It was only half an hour later that we were approaching the border between the Northern Territory and Western Australia. Having spent nearly 6 weeks touring through the Territory, it is time to say goodbye, and head for the wilds of the northern reaches of Western Australia. Not though, before negotiating the border crossing, about which I had heard and read so much, and yet still had little idea of what to expect. Western Australia has particularly onerous quarantine laws, which prevent the passage west ward of fruit, vegetables, honey and a range of other products and implements. To ensure that these laws are submitted to by all and sundry, there is an inspection station at the border.

Approaching the border.

Thankfully, as we rolled towards the crossing, there were only a couple of cars queued before us, so it was only a short wait for a gruff looking quarantine officer to make her way over to us. Small talk, I don’t think was her strong point, although in hindsight, she may just have been bored. I wouldn’t say the inspection was thorough, although I was required to allow her entry to the van to check the contents of the fridge and our pantry, as well as the caravan boot and a quick look into the back of ‘The Beast’. I wasn’t concerned, as I knew we had nothing to hide, having rid ourselves of any contraband way back in Katherine. Had we wanted to sneak an apple or potato across the border however, I don’t think it would have been a terribly difficult task.

Farewell to the Northern Territory, and the 130Km/h speed limits.

Crossing the border, also caused us some delight of a different kind, as we also crossed into another time zone. So, even though we had left the rest area at 8:55AM and been travelling for about a half an hour already, as we adjusted our watches, we actually went back in time. It was now only 8:10AM again! In fact, it was only 8:50AM when we rolled into the caravan park in Kununurra. It makes it all a little confusing, but the best I can figure is that we therefore made up a total of 1 hour and 35 minutes today, although we lost 5 minutes to the border crossing inspection, so I’ll adjust our ETA to 6:55PM on the 11^th of October.

The early arrival at the caravan park was another blessing, as we had rested our hopes on being able to get a site here. It’s another one of those places that don’t take bookings, but will allow us to leave the dogs in the comfort of the van while we go off exploring. Thankfully, we managed to be allotted the second last powered site in the park. Being that a choice of sites was out of the question, we were just happy that we were able to get the van onto the plot. It’s a cramped little park, with only just enough space on the site for our van to fit lengthwise, while had we not parked on the extreme border of the site, even splaying out our awning may have been out of the question. Parking ‘The Beast’ on site involves Bec guiding me in with the back end hanging out very close to the throughway.

Apart from the tiny proportions, it’s the pick of the sites however, with grand shade bearing trees above, and a walk so short to the ablutions block that we could almost call them an ensuite.

With the van set up, we took the dogs for a short stroll about the park to check out our surroundings. Perched on the shores of Lake Kununurra, there is a pleasant patch of lawn on which to exercise the dogs, with views across to the township. A restaurant, where we have already booked in for dinner, and a pool complete the picture.

A drive in to the township was next, for a visit to the information centre and supermarket to replenish our supply of fruit and vegetables. Being a Sunday, not much else was open, so we completed our chores and beat a hasty retreat for the van. Combined with a few days on the road, the heat and predominantly the lack of sleep, I was fading fast in the energy department.

A quick lunch was had upon our return, before we relaxed with the hefty weekend paper. I don’t recall much else of the afternoon, as my eyeballs soon begun to project my vivid thoughts upon the insides of my eyelids like a widescreen movie as I fell into a fitful torpor. I awoke an hour or so later, feeling much worse for ware rather than better for my rest.

It was even a struggle just to make it to dinner, even though the restaurant was barely a 50 yard walk from the van. I needed to eat though, so off we went. In an outdoor, shade sail canopied dining room, by the light of a candle and citronella burning torches, we dined beneath the stars, serenaded by a solo singer perched on a little rostrum in the corner. For a mere $15.00 each, for a steak and chips or fish and chips, accompanied by copious amounts of salad, we couldn’t go wrong.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.

It was time to hit the road again today and for a change, we managed to exit the park with time to spare. So I’m claiming the five minutes and now fully expect to be back in Melbourne at 8:25PM on the 11^th October. We’ll see you then.

We had barely turned right out of the Park and onto the Victoria Highway, heading west bound, when we were reminded that we were well and truly back in the outback. Only minutes from Katherine, and we could have been miles from anywhere. The ochre red earth was covered in gold and grey grasses and silver trunked trees rose forth to a bleached green smattering of foliage, other than in the many areas that had been chastened by fire, and become a blackened scar on the otherwise picture perfect landscape. The sun beat down from somewhere behind us, washing out the colour of the sky, while even the road was a sun bleached grey dotted, patches of black indicating recent repairs, as a shimmer of heat haze obscured the further reaches as it strove for the horizon.

This is truly the type of country I love to travel through. Don’t be mistaken that there is nothing to see out here and that the road travels from town to town in a dead straight line through unchanging panoramas of billiard table flat landscapes. Nothing could be further from the truth, as the road winds its way around tabletop flat mesas that rise skyward from the surrounding plains. Each is spectacular in its own right, and deserving of further investigation by those with more time than ourselves.

We rounded one bend in the undulating road, to be confronted with a hill that rose steeply from the roadside, before straightening into a towering cliff like escarpment overlooking the highway. Judging by the well worn path on the dirt verge alongside the road, we were not the first to have been astounded by the sight enough to pull over to record the view as best we could on camera. Looking back even now, I can honestly say that the photographs do little justice to what we viewed with our own eyes.

Spectacular.

As we moved on, excitedly nattering about the scene, we rounded yet another bend, to be faced with an even more jaw dropping scene spreading out from the road. Another towering escarpment, reaching for the sky through the surrounding forest of silvery trees, another photo stop was called for to record our memories to film.

The photo does it little justice.

Sadly, we have neither the time, nor due to the dogs, the ability to reconnoiter this area further. There will indeed be a time that we return to fully explore everything that is on offer here though. As I said at the start, this is the true out back, and truly some of the best country Australia has to offer.

By 2:15PM, we were pulling into the roadside rest stop we had chosen to be our camp spot for the night. Even at this early hour, space was at a premium, as we trudged around the site on foot, looking for a suitable spot into which to maneuver our rig. The thin layer of dust atop the hard packed dry earth was so fine, that with each and every step we took, a brown cloud emanated from beneath our feet, creating a hazy, choking mist of dirt. Despite the dust, the campsite had a fantastic view towards a lofty escarpment, upon which the sun was striking brightly, creating a myriad of changing colours as the angle of the light changed with the progression of the sun across the sky.

As we walked around looking like lost puppy dogs, a couple that were already parked up for the night took pity on us, and invited us to park next to them. We quickly assessed the site and found that it was as suitable as any other we were likely to lay up in, swung ‘The Beast’ around, with van in tow, threw out the welcome mat and called ourselves ‘home’.

With little shade to be had from the leafless tree under which we had parked, and the sun still hammering down upon the flank of the van, it was much too hot to even consider remaining inside. So we lugged a couple of camp chairs and the dog beds outside, to relax in the shade thrown by the van. We quickly struck a conversation with the couple, John and Betty, in the next van, who are slowly making their own way home to Geraldton in Western Australia. Before we knew it, we had whiled away 4 hours and nearly the same number or beers.

A cold beverage after a day on the road.

Given that we had not stopped for lunch, planning to eat when we pulled into the rest area, which naturally didn’t happen either, we were getting kind of hungry by this stage. It was time then to brave the oven like interior of the van to cook dinner. Not such an easy task when we realised that it had slipped our minds this morning to take something out of the freezer prior to leaving. To Becs credit, and thanks to the judicious use of the generator to provide some electricity to run the microwave to help prepare the gourmet spread, she cooked up a feast. A feast I had been meant to ably assist her in preparing, except for getting caught chatting to John at length again when I went to fire up the generator.

As I hungrily wolfed down my delicious dinner, Bec pointedly reminded me that I would tonight be in charge of cleaning up. Oh well, I can live with that, although the cleaning up was going to have to wait. Even with the little fan running in the van, it is not enough to keep the heat at bay, so as we ate dinner, we watched our butter melt and a can of drink didn’t even form a cooling layer of condensation on the outer surface such was the insipid warmth. By the time dinner was done, Bec was panting as heavily as the dogs, as we retreated to the camp chairs, and spent another few hours conversing with John and Betty, who were as happy as us to be sitting outside their also stifling tin can.

The sun sets…

…over our camp.

As day turned to night, the glassy clear sky was filled with thousands of pinpricks of light, the stars appearing like you never get to see them in the city. Peering up through the tree, it was, as Betty so eloquently put it, like looking up at a tree covered in fairy lights.

A good night was had by all, but as time wore on, it became evident that the evening chill we have been experiencing in Katherine was not going to materialize here, so we said our goodnights and retreated to the van. With the harsh sun no longer striking the side, it had cooled slightly inside, but there was no breeze to speak of, so the stillness of the air created a turgid, stuffy feeling, that even the fan couldn’t release us from. I can feel a sleepless night coming on, unless the weather changes during the early hours of the morning, a prayer for which I can only keep my fingers crossed.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.