Our Aussie Adventures

Trying to ward off the chill last night, I decided to switch the electric blanket on. Only to wake up this morning bathed in a layer of sweat, having left it on high all night. What a morning it was to wake up to though, the sun was shining brightly, not a cloud in the sky, nor a whisper of wind, all backed up by the sweet soundtrack of a team of tree loppers noisily hacking away at the trees about the park. Wouldn’t have minded so much if we’d aimed at awakening prior to 9:00AM, but we hadn’t been. Argh.

I ended up doing what I had planned yesterday; sitting outside, beneath the awning, slurping down a giant coffee while reading. Bec on the other hand remained indoors, attempting to reap a bit more slumber against the invasive grinding noises emanating from the tree lopping operation.

When we did eventually get ourselves moving, we left the dogs behind again. We found ourselves quite lucky again, having asked about leaving the dogs secured in the van, to find that we were able to, so long as they were quiet. We figure that since we can’t hear them while we are out, they must be quiet, and they surely couldn’t be any worse than the racket we have had to endure this morning anyway.

We were off to visit the underground hospital toady. Hewn into the soft shale beneath Mt Isa, during World War II, it was designed as an emergency hospital in case of an enemy attack. It was widely believed that after Darwin suffered devastating losses to Japanese warplanes, the next target may have been the mines around Mt Isa. It was dug out by mine workers, who would spend 8hrs in the mines, then a further 4hrs on the construction of the hospital.

Since these attacks never materialised, the underground hospital was never used for anything more than training drills and as a crib room for night shift nurses, who slept down there during the day, owing to its stable, cool temperature. It was also used for storage, before it was allowed to fall into disrepair and with the entrances covered in, eventually forgotten about. It was not until many years later that it was rediscovered by accident, and some time later, that it was renovated with the intention of turning it into the tourist attraction we were able to view today.

Inside the underground cavern that was to have served as a hospital.

The old above ground hospital, of which the caverns were an annexure, is now also part of the complex open to visitors, and houses a large display of medical equipment from the time of its operation.

I thought I’d found a neat bar sink…

…until I read the instructions.

The oldest structure to be found in Mt Isa is also on the site, but not yet open to the public, having only recently been relocated here. With canvas walls and tin roof, these ‘tent houses’ were cheap and easy to construct, until such time as more permanent buildings could be erected.

From the hospital, we drove into the centre of town, for a walk down Rodeo Drive. Far from being the shopping mecca of its Beverley Hills name sake, this Rodeo Drive is literally a tribute to the best bull riders who have taken part in the annual Mt Isa Rodeo. Being that Mt Isa is widely recognised as the rodeo capital of Australia, it is therefore not so unusual that plaques adorn the footpath, naming the best of the best. Man and beast alike are acknowledged.

While in town, I picked up a few supplies from the local electronics store, to hopefully enable me to rig up a more powerful point into which to plug the invertor. Whatever would we do without TV, which the invertor will hopefully allow us to power up, whenever the mood takes us, whilst camped by the roadside with no access to mains power. Ahh, the things we do, to ensure sanity prevails.

Over lunch, at McDonalds, to allow us to access their free Internet, we frantically researched accommodation options for Darwin. This enigma has been a thorn in my side since well before our departure. The problem is, that the caravan parks that allow dogs and take bookings, receive mostly critical reviews. On the other hand, our preferred choice of caravan park does not take bookings. We thus have to decide whether to book one of the lesser parks and guarantee us a site, or roll into Darwin with our fingers, toes and other body parts crossed, and hope there is space available for us. Then… Actually, don’t even get me started on budgeting for it. All of the parks that accept dogs are in the $50.00 a night range and then on top of this outlandish charge, some even charge you extra for whatever power you use. Our final decision was that it was all too difficult to judge the parks without looking at them, so we are going to do the fingers and toes crossed thing, and hope for the best.

The parks’s full again tonight.

Back at the van, while Bec had an afternoon nap, I hit the books once more. Because of the drastic changes we have made to our initial itinerary, I had to try and find out as much as I could about our new destinations, before we travel into the Internet black hole again. I am guessing that once we leave Mt Isa, it may well not be until we arrive in Darwin that we have reliable access to Internet again. That is a fate worse than no TV, as we have to make do with no emails, no blog posts, no deals of the day and no uploading photos to Flickr, as we revert to a pre-computer like existence. How ever will we survive?

On the subject of Flickr, you’ll notice that I haven’t updated our photos for a few days. This is due to the Telstra data plan we have being as inadequate as some of the electrical wiring in the van. We went over the usage limit, and are waiting for an upgrade to kick in so we can put some more pics up. I am hoping we will be able to get them up tomorrow night before we leave The Isa on Wednesday morning.

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

Before we had even embarked on our adventure, we had tried to plan our itinerary in such a way that it would allow us to have plenty of lazy Sundays. A chance to have a sleep in, cook up a big breakfast, and catch up on world events by reading the weekend papers. We realised from the outset that it was never going to happen every week, but today was certainly going to be one of those days.

I was up before Bec, and left her sleeping soundly while I went and tracked down a Sunday paper. I managed to find not only a service station that had a couple of forlorn copies left, but also a camping store that was strangely open for business on a Sunday. It was one of the few stores that was open. It was a fortuitous sign, that they had the exact jockey wheel in stock that I have been searching for. I needed this to replace the one that we have, which has been slipping dangerously whenever we wind it up. It slipped of its own accord the other day, while we were in the van, dropping the front end of the van, only an inch or so, but violently enough to demonstrate that we were in dire need of a new one.

By the time I finally returned to the van, Bec was up and wondering where I had been. As it turns out, she hadn’t been sleeping as soundly as I had thought when I left, and was up and about not long after me.

Sitting down to a breakfast that was of large enough proportions that a serving platter may well have served me better than the dinner plate sized disc I had served it up upon, we spread open the papers, and devoured the news with a gusto. With everything else we’ve been getting up to, maintaining a grasp of current events has been fraught with difficulty. Apparently the world does indeed continue outside of our bubble of adventurous experiences.

Bethany pleads for her breakfast.

Whilst we had seen ourselves sitting beneath our awning to enjoy the warmth in the sunshine, whilst taking in the news and the sustenance of our fry up, the gusting breeze put paid to that idea. Had we tried, I am sure that the surrounding area would have soon resembled a tip, with sheets of newsprint lofting about like stray kites.

The things you find amusing when you’re stuck in the van.

Amid perusal of the papers and the feasting, we made time to catch up on what I shall simply refer to as ‘the housework’, although I’m sure all of my regular readers will know what I am really referring to by now. It was with excitement that we also learned that we would be hosting visitors from home while in Darwin. A few friends are flying all the way up to spend a few days with us. Fingers crossed, but we had better make sure we make it to Darwin on time now! Be a shame if we were running late! (I do say that with a healthy dose of sarcasm of course).

As is par for course in a caravan park, we also welcomed some of the new arrivals, although not before careful scrutiny of their van parking skills of course. It would seem that Bec and I aren’t nearly as poor as what I might make out, with another couple having all sorts of issues as they tried to line their van up. It is rather humorous to hear shouted instructions such as: “Come back, left hand down”, followed very soon after by: “No, I meant right hand. STOP. Go forward, we’ll try again.” Yes, it certainly seems like an omnipresent caravanners curse. We are now surrounded by other vans, as the park has filled to near capacity.

Despite the warmth, the wind saw us ensconce ourselves within the van, lounging on the bed with the dogs to watch another film. The film went longer than what we had expected, and by the time it was over, it was already time to prepare dinner.

The clear skies suggest another cold night.

Dinner done, and the kitchen cleaned up, more ‘housework’ had to be done, before we could hit the sack snuggling up for another frigid night and in readiness for a somewhat busier day tomorrow. We might even take in a local sight or two.

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

After I left you all last night, we did attempt to watch a movie, plugging in our new, you beaut power invertor into a handy 12 volt power socket. I ought to have realized that the socket wouldn’t be up to the task, but the tele wasn’t drawing a great amount of power. With hardly ¼ of an hour to go on the movie, an ear piercing alarm emanated about the caravan. It was enough to send Alvin into a frenzy, while Bethany lay deafly, and blissfully ignorant of it. I am sure we must have awoken half of the other campers, such was the screeching that was assaulting our eardrums. It turned out to be the invertor, sounding a low voltage alarm, before going into imminent shut down mode. This was despite the house batteries still remaining close to fully charged. I believe it is yet another case of inadequate wire size, causing a substantial voltage drop across the cables. And just when the movie was about to reach its crescendo! It mattered not how long I sat staring at the invertor, without any option of increasing the voltage to the offending power outlet, the end of the movie was out of our grasp until such time that we plug into power again.

After a good nights rest, we were treated to a fresh morning, following a positively freezing night. Both of the dogs had, at some point in time during the night, managed to snuggle onto the bed between Bec and I, although their added warmth was a welcome addition to our slumber. I just wish I hadn’t rolled over at the sound of the alarm to give Bec a good morning peck on the cheek, without first opening my eyes. A mouth full of dog hair was not what I had hoped for.

Hemmed in by rocks, it was an effort to extricate ourselves.

With just a quick 60Km jaunt up the highway today, we were in no particular hurry, but still managed to negotiate our way out of our tight little parking space, by 10:00AM, en-route to Mount Isa. The scenery had begun to change late in the day yesterday, but it was a gradual change that was hardly worth the effort of description. Today however, gone were the rolling plains of nothingness, to be replaced with a small range of craggy, red rock outcrops. The road meandered through them, giving us at times, a close up view of the rust coloured rocks, dotted with the more than just occasional green brush here and there. The contrast in colours, the red ground, green fauna and blue sky was a stark contrast, to what we’ve been driving past for the last couple of days. It was a fantastically pretty view, as the road sauntered lazily through the cuttings, leading us into ‘The Isa’ as the outback city is known as to the locals.

We weren’t even on the road for an hour, before we were pulling into the drive at the first caravan park we came across. It wasn’t quite a case of just pulling in here because it was the first we seen, but rather a concerted effort of research which led us to believe this would be the most satisfactory park in town for us to rest our road weary bones for a few days.

Even if it is advertised as the better of the several parks in Mt Isa, the caravan section is a barren expanse of red dirt plots. The sites are at least of a good size, and the access roads wide enough to allow plenty of room to practice our reverse maneuvering. Fingers crossed, but we seemed to have about mastered this black art, and slid easily into our allotted space with the minimum of fuss. While the outlook from within the park may be bleak, it will suffice for us, with access to water to re-fill our water tanks, electricity to charge our batteries and maybe some time to do a few odd jobs on the rig, not to mention a load or two of you know what (that would be laundry if you didn’t catch on). Our first order of business though, having separated the van from ‘The Beast’, was to go for our usual familiarisation drive about the township.

It’s quite a large town, built on the successes of the various ore mining operations that are conducted throughout the area. The largest such site is literally just across the railway track from the main city central area of Mt Isa, leading to the local descriptions of areas as town side or mine side. There doesn’t seem to be a whole lot available here though, other than the basics, provided by a small business area.

Having taken a quick driving tour of town, we went to do our shopping. I had intended of picking up a few bits and pieces from the Bunnings, but it is rather more compact than the great big warehouses to which I am more accustomed, and didn’t stock the required parts for the tasks that I had set myself. It was off to do the grocery shopping next, battling quite a crowd to collect enough supplies to last us a few days. In good old fashioned country style, apparently the supermarkets remain closed for a day of rest on Sundays. Hence the stampede we were witness to today.

Back at the van, we spent some time getting to know the couple in the van behind ours, then rolled out the awning to give us some shade against the strong, if not stiflingly hot, sun that was by now beating down. We then spent the remainder of the afternoon relaxing. We set the TV up, and managed to tune in a grand total of 2 channels. ABC and SBS was all that seemed to be available. Not good news for a couple of TV addicts like ourselves. I did later manage to get a signal from a few other stations, but it dropped out again as quick as I picked it up. We did at least get to finish watching our film from last night, only to find that the ending was somewhat strange and unappealing.

Apart from that, while Bec had herself an afternoon nap, I tried to catch up as best I could on the blog. Despite my best efforts, I am still a little behind, especially with the photos and the Google map. Stay tuned however, as I strive to get everything back in order before we leave ‘The Isa’, and venture back into the bad lands of no terrestrial mobile phone or Internet signal. Actually, I lie, because we have maintained intermittent phone coverage, but not of the strength that has allowed me to access our blog pages.

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

I woke up this morning, having formulated a plan overnight. I quietly set about unhitching the van from ‘The Beast’, then leaving Bec and the dogs behind to mind the caravan, I set off on a journey of discovery. I had decided to drive the 80Km out to Donganally Station, on the off chance that there would be someone left there that I could speak to. I was working on the assumption that surely not all of the employees could just up and leave for a week at a time.

Secondly, if I didn’t take the trek out, I would be always left wondering what if? If I didn’t go out, I would never know and I hadn’t travelled all this way, only to move on past without even trying to go and have a look. Even if it did turn out to be from behind a locked gate, surely I would be able to glance something.

Driving through the scrubby outback, it was almost amazing that anything could survive out here, but there was plenty of evidence of wildlife, mostly in the form of road kill. It was easy to see where they were, as each one was surrounded by a flock of birds, pecking away at the carcasses. A black cloud of eagles, kites, hawks and other birds of prey would rapidly ascend in unison, in just enough time for ‘The Beast’ to thunder past, before descending back to the road and continuing their feast. A flock of emus were witnessed also, parading along the roadside, before scurrying away at the sight of me. Sadly, wild cats were also numerous. A major pest in the area I would imagine, many of them didn’t even bother to look up from whatever roadside feed they were devouring, staying resolutely put as I drove by, often within inches of them.

Emus scatter at the sight of ‘The Beast’.

A good way out of town, I eventually came to the Donganally Station entrance gate, and the 10km long dirt road drive way that led to the homestead and workers compound. I drove along here, still not knowing what to expect at the end, whether anyone would be around, and if they were, how would they take to a city slicker invading their home and workplace uninvited.

The start of an almost 10km driveway.

As it turned out, as I drove over the final cattle grid, I noticed someone working by a building in the distance. That was a good sign, and at least I would get the chance to explain to somebody what I was doing there.

He turned out to be a contractor, but I was excited to hear that the wife of the manager was still at home, and could be found in the main house. I went over to where I had been pointed, to find her. I introduced myself, and tried as best I could to explain to her what I was doing there. I still half expected to be told to get off of the property, but nothing could have been further from the truth.

She may have thought me weird, driving all the way from Melbourne to look at a dustbowl of a cattle station, but she welcomed me onto the property, and gave me free run to go about and look around the compound. She also introduced me to the cook, who in turn introduced me to a couple of the ringers. Before I knew it, and quickly learning by example, I had left my boots and hat outside, and found myself sitting at the mess hall table, having a cuppa and a yarn with the staff.

It’s a whole different world out here, where the work is hard, but I would think the partying might be even harder. The ringers have their own little room each, not that much more would be needed. There is the kitchen and mess hall for meals, and a recreation room with pool table, bar and big screen tele.

Wandering about later on, the contractor I found when I first arrived came over to say g’day and gave me a bit of a tour, pointing out the different quarters, the school house, and assorted cottages on the property. He admitted that it had been a dry season this year, after 3 or 4 good ones, but that the station had been de-stocked to allow it to recover a bit. Made me feel a little callous for whinging about the few drops of rain we had the other night when out here, it is desperately needed to sustain not only the stock, but also the livelihoods of the people that work the land.

An oasis of green in a landscape of brown.

I was so glad that I had opted to make the drive out and left feeling somewhat euphoric at the experience. It had meant so much to me, just to look around the place, I would have been sorely disappointed had I not at least tried. My efforts, I felt had been well rewarded.

It was not quite 2:00PM when I finally made to back to the van, which despite the comical assurances of the cook out at Donganally to get some of her townie friends to hook it up and move it on me, was still exactly where I had left it, as were Bec and the dogs. Now it was time to make our next decision. Our plan had been to move the van to the caravan park here in Julia Creek and stay a few nights, but given that I had managed to do today what I had planned, and that we weren’t going to be able to enjoy a tour out to the Red Claw Farm, we were considering staying a second night in the free camp ground. Our other option was to hitch up and drive a few hours this afternoon, towards Mt Isa.

We quickly decided on the later, as we weren’t overjoyed with the onerous rules at the Julia Creek Camp Ground. Whilst the lack of facilities weren’t seriously problematic, the prohibiting of draining waste water seriously compromised our ability to wash dishes or shower.

It took us barely a half an hour, and we were back on the road, westward for parts unknown. Well actually, our first stop was in the Julia Creek township, where we tried to purchase some of the tasty red claw morsels. Seems that the farmer has been away on holiday for so long, the entire town is out of stock and awaiting his return. It just wasn’t to be then. A quick stop at the roadhouse for a tub of fries each to tide us over until dinner then, and we were back upon the black top for real.

The road smoothed out this afternoon, compared to yesterday, although everyone I have spoken too agrees that the Hughenden to Julia Creek road is a disgrace and probably the worst stretch of tar in the state. Today still wasn’t perfect, but certainly a great improvement.

With no real aim of where we were likely to end up, I had selected a couple of roadside camps which ought to sustain us for the evening, both a little ways through Cloncurry, on the road to Mt Isa. As such, and given the time, we flew straight on through Cloncurry, and kept motoring along. Shazza had our estimated time of arrival at our preferred camping area as being about 5:00PM. Given that most grey nomads are on the road by early morning, and searching for a spot to set up camp by about 2:00PM, it was a matter of keeping our fingers crossed that we would fit in.

Passing the first camp spot, there was room enough left, but again, it provided no facilities, so we decided to chance our luck, and kept going the extra 15 minutes to Fortune Springs Rest Area. Situated perfectly half way between Cloncurry and Mt Isa, it will leave us only a 60Km hop into town in the morning. And thankfully, we snagged what seemed to be the last remaining bit of land large enough to park up for the night. It was a tight fit though, and a couple across the way were quite inquisitive about our maneuvering. They also thought the radios were a good way to communicate to avoid arguments. I told them that it didn’t necessarily avoid conflict, but did make it easier for others to enjoy, if they’d just tune their own UHF to channel 26, sit back, and wait for the fireworks. Although, we did really well tonight, so the entertainment would have been somewhat unsatisfactory this evening. The camp ground again is nothing of note, with hard rammed earth ground under foot, nothing particularly pretty to look at, apart from a dozen or more assorted other caravans and the persistent roaring of road trains barreling down the highway, so near, that you can feel the ground vibrating. There are at least some public conveniences here and no draconian rules about sullage, so we are able to at least have a wash tonight, before donning our flannelette pajamas to ward off the nightly chill. There is an expected low of 9^oC tonight, so an extra blanket may even be required to ward off the cold.

It was a tight fit, but we managed.

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

We had a broken sleep last night, as we were awoken a number of times to the pitter, patter of rain cascading down upon the tin roof of the van again. I am seriously beginning to wonder if we are towing a big rain cloud along behind us like some sort of oversized novelty helium balloon. It just seems to be that wherever we go, a droplet or two decides to fall, I am sure in an effort to remind us of the lovely weather we have tried to leave behind.

To make matters worse, the alarm was set for the earth shatteringly early hour of 7:00AM this morning, so as to give us the best chance of making it to our intended destination of Julia Creek at a reasonable hour. Despite the early morning wake up call, we were still 10 minutes behind schedule as we rolled out of the caravan park at a little after 8:00AM. That will of course push our estimated arrival time back in Melbourne out 8:10PM, still on the 11^th of October at least at this stage.

Although it didn’t rain for us while we were on the road, the weather was decidedly cooler than what we have been enjoying, barely reaching 20^oC for the most part. What was painful, were the road conditions. We were almost wishing fort the restricted speed zone signs and yellow vested workers that would signal some road works, because they sure as hell needed it. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it had been occasional sections of broken tar, but it was kilometre after kilometre after kilometre of wallowing great undulations that had ‘The Beast’ pitching back and forth like a dinghy in 10 foot swells. We were being thrown back and forth within the cabin as a result, and I daren’t stop to check out the inside of the van, for fear of finding all manner of goods strewn about the living space. As far as we could see, the only plan the authorities had in relation to alleviating these conditions, was to erect signs every 30 or so kilometres, warning of the rough roads.

Our first stop for the day was at Hughenden, where we quickly refueled ‘The Beast’, to ensure we had enough juice to keep us on the move for the remainder for the day. We also hungrily devoured a quick snack, as by this stage we had already been on the go for 4 hours. We usually wouldn’t be long out of bed by this time of the morning.

Leaving Hughenden, we made the unwelcome discovery that the roads deteriorated even further. Driving through the wide open, flat plains, I was sure that the highest point for many miles around were the crests of the pitch inducing undulations of the road surface.

Looking about, we were traversing a tough country though, the fields almost bereft of grass, lending itself to a lunar like landscape appearance. The few tufts of grass that were present were grey and tough looking, hardly the kind of nourishment needed to sustain a herd of cattle.

Emaciated cattle battle for a feed in a tough country.

As we continued towards our next stop at Richmond, the traffic seemed to lessen in density, until we were barely seeing another vehicle. About the only car that passed us all day, we later seen pulled over on the side of the road, a police car stationed close in behind it. What a shame!

In Richmond, we broke the monotony, to have a bite to eat for lunch, while looking through the information centre, garnering a few extra nuggets of intelligence on our upcoming destinations. There was also a fossil display that you could walk through, but at $20.00 a head and 45 minutes to take it all in, we decided to give it a miss. We wanted to be back on the road, as bad as it was, so as to get into Julia Creek as early as possible. The plan is to stay in a free camping area on the outskirts of town tonight, and we want to ensure we don’t miss out on a spot.

Julia Creek was only about an hour and a half further down the road, during which time, the weather warmed a little, creating a haze that made the distant strip of bitumen appear to be a shimmering pane of glass, rising up magnificently into the light blue sky, punctuated with cotton ball like tufts of cloud. Either side of the road, the wide expanse of nothingness continued for as far as the eye could see.

Arriving in Julia Creek, we made our way to the information centre, where you must first check in, if you want to avail yourselves, as we did, of the free camping facilities. Although facilities would be an overstatement. No water, no toilets, no grass, we’re not even meant to drain our sullage and waste water out onto the ground. We later found it to be nothing more than an expanse of soft brown dirt, pock marked with fist sized holes and wheel ruts. As rugged and uneven as the fields we’d been seeing through the windscreen all day, it turned into an effort just to get the van to sit on a reasonably level keel for the night.

Back to the information centre experience though, there were two things that I wanted to find out about, and I was to be sorely disappointed on both accounts. The first was a much anticipated free tag along tour to a nearby red claw farm. Red claw is the local name for a species of yabbie or fresh water crayfish. The owner of the farm is on holiday though, and so no tours are available unless we want to wait a few weeks.

The second tidbit of information I was chasing was to do with a nearby property, Dongonally Station. This was the main reason I had wanted to stop in Julia Creek, and was also one of the big reasons for me, to be doing this trip. For personal reasons, I very much wanted to go out and visit this particular station, to see where it was and what it was like. I was devastated to find that it has closed down for the week, as have most of the other stations in the area, while all of the staff enjoy some R&R at a nearby campdraft. I don’t really know what I expected to find out, whether the manager would welcome me out, or tell me to piss off, but I had at least hoped for something more than: “Sorry, but nobody will be there.” It was with a lump in my throat that I left the information centre, despondent, my mind reeling and not really sure what I would do.

Adjoining the information centre is a series of huts all featuring displays on the local history and make up of the local shire area. We decided to have a look through the displays whilst we were here, not that I paid much heed to what I was looking at. The main hall features information about the once thought to be extinct Julia Creek Dunnart, a furry little creature I would have mistaken for a large mouse or small rat had I come across it in the wild. A live specimen is housed in a small glass enclosure, and is quite a sight to see, running energetically and non-stop about the confines. As hard as we tried, we weren’t able to manage to capture a picture of this little mad creature.

From the information centre, we made our way back out of town, the same way as we had come in, to the aforementioned dirt paddock that would serve as our resting place for the night. It took some maneuvering just to find a sod that would suitably support ‘The Beast’ and the van, and then some further toing and froing to find a level enough section to enable us to park without unhitching.

Our camp for the night.

Being that our plan had been to park here for the night before moving into the caravan park for a couple of days, whilst enjoying the supposed red claw farm tour and Dongonally Station, our plans were somewhat in disarray. Therefore we are going to sleep on it, before making a decision as to what is our next step.

At least the sunset was captivating.

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