Up the creek

Karumba is known for its seafood and didn’t disappoint.  We indulged in large portions of wild barramundi and chips which tasted infinitely better than the farmed variety available in Brisbane.  Taking a kilo of fresh prawns for dinner we back tracked to Normanton to refuel and take on some provisions.  There’s no choice, that’s where the road goes. 

You may recall from a couple of blogs back that we had met Glyn and Chuck at Musgrave.  We met up with them again and travelled together, overnighting at Burke and Wills Roadhouse and on to Adel’s Grove, both spots in the middle of nowhere.  Adel’s Grove was first settled by a Frenchman, Albert de Lestang from where the place takes its name.   He created a experimental nursery and provided seeds to many of the world’s great botanical gardens.  In the early 1950s the place was accidentally burnt out and all the records, plants and stores were wiped out.  Not surprisingly Albert fell into depression and died shortly afterwards but his legacy lives on through his contribution to the world’s hybrid plants.

Camping amongst mature trees provides a shady environment and we relaxed the afternoon away.  Next morning we paddled a couple of canoes along nearby Lawn Hill Gorge delighting in the scenery and lush greenery until we reached a small waterfall.  Carrying the canoes a hundred metres or so we re-launched and paddled until we reached a second set of falls, then turned back

With the breeze and flow of water under us we made rapid progress to where we needed to carry the canoes at which point Glyn and Chuck’s canoe suddenly overturned.  No real drama although Glyn did manage to lose his sunspecs.  Full of compassion, Kim took photos!

The camp fire that night was as camp fires should be – creating an atmosphere conducive to relaxed discussion when the world’s problems were reduced to a magnitude that could be resolved.

Next day and we’re travelling with Glyn and Chuck in convoy on the dirt tracks, with a few creek crossings to take our mind off the corrugations.   The scenery didn’t change much.  Mile upon mile of scrub, hard stony tracks, a few scrawny cattle, dried up creek beds, termite mounds and dust.  Dust as we’ve never experienced before.  It infiltrates everywhere until the inside of the car is as dirty as the outside, and the occupants are as dusty as the car.  Mouths feel gritty, eyelids too.  Skin is dry and papery.  Everywhere is arid.  It’s winter in northern Australia.

We overnight at Hells Gate Roadhouse.  There’s nothing there but a couple of buildings, a fuel bowser and for some reason not particularly apparent, an airstrip.

Next day, more of the same and we in due course reach another State, the Northern Territory.  So I’ll leave this blog in the dry and dust and resort to a cold beer from the fridge.