Off we go again

Off we go again

Finally we left home 8 days ago. Given several delays & ‘false starts’ leaving was an easy & straightforward affair, hardly surprising given that we had been ready to go at the drop of a hat for 6 weeks.

The challenge, such as it is, is to now work out how to fit into 2.5 months what we had previously planned to take 4 months doing.
If we are to ‘dawdle’ as we prefer then we will have to leave some of our destinations for another time. At present it’s hard to know what we should leave out so I expect we will just be flexible & see what suits us as we go.
What we are sure about is that trying to squeeze 4 months into 2.5 months will feel rushed & unsatisfactory. …. as will leaving too much out. The only certainty is that we will reach the Dampier Peninsula north of Broome by mid September, when we have a commitment to keep that we are both excited about. From the end of September, for around 6 months we have arranged to ‘caretake’ a small family owned coastal ’eco resort’ approximately 200kms north of Broome for the wet season.

So……. a summary of our journey so far. In 7 days we have travelled about 1900kms of which the last 700/800 have been on dirt roads & tracks. It would be fair to say that we are still struggling with establishing a pace we are happy with. It has been too rushed since we left home. Although much of the distance so far has been over ground we have previously covered the driving sense of “We need to be further north before we can afford to slow down has seen us pass by things we would otherwise have taken the time to visit, with the excuse “they are closer to home & we can leave them for another time”.

From Ballarat we drove westward to South Australia where we had friends to visit in the riverside town of Mannum, a pretty little town with a ’seaside town feel’ on the banks of the River Murray, stopping approximately half way for the night at the unimaginatively named ‘Bordertown’, just inside South Australia. Our camp, for what turned out to be a cold wet night was alongside a lake, a free camp in a pleasant location. For overseas readers unfamiliar with the notion of free camping, these camp spots are relatively common throughout Australia. Not all towns provide them, but many do, generally those who recognise that by doing so so they attract more people to their town, which aids their local economy. Bordertown, like many small but enlightened towns offered us not only pleasant surroundings, but toilets & free barbecues, the latter under a rain proof shelter which proved very welcome.

Catching up with our friends was a pleasure as always, & was the first time we had visited their home with it’s riverside views since they moved there a couple of years ago. A promise kept & one to be repeated. Whilst there we also caught up with a couple of other friends who have largely now given up the travelling lifestyle to instead live on the river, having swapped their motorhomes for houseboats. Not a bad lifestyle from what we could see.

From Mannum we wound our way northward through country where farming appeared marginal at best, where jokes about growing rocks may not have been funny, where the ruins of tiny old old stone buildings remained as evidence of past failed attempts to make a living off the land. But from time to time we found ourselves in lush valleys where the grape is everything, the Barossa & the Clare Valleys where wineries abound, some of world standard, not that either of us are wine connoisseurs, I can’t stand the stuff & MrsTea likes sweet plonk. And then there were the extensive grain paddocks, huge flat cultivated areas as far as the eye could see often with no obvious source of water. We wondered if every year was a gamble for those who sow seed, will the rain come at the right time, if at all? We supposed that when hard work, expense & climate come together that the outcome must be lucrative, but wondered how many poor seasons a good season generally needed to support a farmer & his family through. Perhaps they get more rain than we thought, there were no signs of irrigation infrastructure in many areas.

Winding our way north we found hills & climbs where we had expected flat country, which made the drive more interesting & further north still we passed through towns which were becoming increasingly smaller & further apart. The country still had a few sheep here & there among the bluebush (or was it saltbush?), sharing their tucker with emus & occasional roos & smaller yellow tailed wallabies. We pulled up for the night at a small clearing alongside the ‘Dry as a bone creek’, somewhere north of Orroroo, where we enjoyed the sort of round the campfire encounter with another travelling couple that one gets on the road. Rick & Vicky were from Adelaide & on their way to North Queensland via Birdsville. They were still on their ‘home turf’, being regular visitors to the Flinders Ranges not too far north from our home for the night.

Next day was, for us, when the ‘journey proper’ began. This was signified by our having crossed the difficult to define line between ’not the Outback’ & ‘the Outback’. The road north of Hawker took us alongside the Flinders Ranges, affording us impressive views as the light changed throughout the hours it took to pass them. Traffic had reduced to seeing other vehicles ‘now & again’. We passed the tiny settlement of Parachilna – a pub (& a couple of other buildings) selling ‘roadkill’ platters (camel, roo etc – not really roadkill) without stopping – we’ve been there before. It sorta reminded us that as yet we weren’t quite in the real outback, this place survives on providing to the Flinders tourist trade, to folk who feel a long way from anywhere & maybe at the edge of their comfort zone. To us, when we stopped there in the past it still felt like ’touristville’ with prices to match.

Just prior to reaching the coal mining settlement of Leigh Creek, now almost a ghost town, but still with a couple of shops, a police station & fuel servo since the mine closed a year or two ago, we turned off & took the first dirt road of this trip, the short distance out to the Aroona Dam, the town’s water supply & a pretty place for a lunch stop.

Years ago we camped there overnight, but now there are signs banning this. After lunch a quick look around Leigh Creek for nostalgic reasons as well as to check out the price of their fuel. We determined to buy our fuel a little further on at Lyndhurst where it was significantly cheaper (thanks to our fuel price phone app). Surprising really given that Lyndhurst is a tiny settlement, perhaps a dozen dwellings, in the midst of huge open country. Now it was beginning to feel like the real outback. After a slightly protracted but eventually successful battle with an automatic fuel dispenser requiring a credit card to be inserted & the amount of fuel to be determined before filling (& which I expect it amused the person inside the shop to witness) I filled our tanks with diesel. I suspect that there may have been some manual input from a never seen person inside after my 3rd or 4th attempt.

That night we camped at Farina. This was once a town boasting a number of streets & all the infrastructure that accompanied a sizeable town. Today it is but a series of stone ruins which contain the tale of a failed town, primarily brought about by insufficient water supply. The site is on a station who provide a campground we had stayed at back in 2009. Back then the campground, a depression below the gibber plain, was a green oasis. Now, the result of a long dry period, it was a dustbowl, albeit a dustbowl with toilets, & donkey boiler heated showers. Light the fire to get a hot shower. The place was packed! Mainly folk on their way to Birdsville for the now annual ‘Big Red Bash’ – an expensive music concert at the foot of the ‘Big Red’ (a sand dune) which together with the other big money spinner, the Birdsville Races in September, does much for Birdsville’s coffers. We felt glad that most of the traffic would be turning right at Marree to go up the Birdsville Track, whereas we would be going left up the Oodnadatta Track with a lot less dust & flying stones to contend with.

Preserving what is left of old Farina town has become quite a ‘thing’, bringing together an annual community of folk from all walks of life who enjoy an outback experience in the company of other volunteers. The fruits of their labour since we were last there were quite noticeable , including the renovated underground bakery which now provides all sorts of baked goodies for campers & volunteers alike. I found it slightly amusing when nattering with the head baker, that he was in fact a gluten free chap like myself. Only slightly amused though as it’s a struggle to have to pass up on all those yummy smelling pastries & breads!

Much of the Oodnadatta Track between Marree & William Creek was tediously rocky & corrugated & it was hard to appreciate the monotonous but expansive country it passes through. Big skies & views to the horizon excepted. A stop along the way to look at one of those quirky outback ‘installations’ which someone, probably after a few sherbets, thought was a good idea. Quirky is always good in my book, and so we spent some time looking at ‘Planehenge’ & other assorted outback art before returning to the bump & grind of the Oodnadatta Track.

The day was getting away from us, the sun getting lower in the sky, & by now we would normally be looking for somewhere to camp. Although we could stop pretty much anywhere, the reality is that stopping at the edge of the track is neither appealing nor safe, & driving off the track less so. We had earlier looked at the small campground at Coward Springs (an old railway depot with artesian water)
but judged it to be too early in the afternoon to stop. And so our choices were to get to William Creek where there is a pub we have previously visited & a tiny dusty campground, or to turn off the track to follow a smaller track for 65kms to Halligan Point on the shores of Lake Eyre, Australia’s famed ‘inland sea’, which occasionally has water in it, but mostly is an enormous salt lake. Problem was our map said the track was unsuitable for trailers. Having reached the turn off a brief but tense discussion was had between us. Should we first go to William Creek, suss out accessibility & possibly return, undoubtedly getting to the lake in the dark on unknown tracks, or just turn right & hope, with the possibility of arriving in daylight, but choosing to stop sooner if the track proved impassable &/or dangerous. We went with the latter, arrived before dark & could see no reason why the warning was on the map. We both felt that even though there was no water to be seen that the trip to the lake had been worthwhile. Not just seeing & walking on the lake, but also driving through the unusual ‘moonscape’ like country as we dropped the final few kilometres down to the lake at 15 metres below sea level. Walking across the salt as the sun rose next morning was chilly but special.

The track back to the main Oodnadatta track was sandy & occasionally corrugated, but a joy to drive on in comparison. We found ourselves stopping to turn right toward William Creek all too soon. Hearing a mystery scraping noise as we did so, as though something was hooked up under the car & dragging on the ground. Found nothing & the noise was gone when we carried on. Strange. Briefly stopped in William Creek. For a pub so far from anywhere it was a surprisingly busy place with vehicles coming & going almost contantly. We only stopped to avail ourselves of their dump point to empty our portable toilet.

The section of the Oodnadatta Track from William Creek to Oodnadatta, compared to what we had driven on already was quite different. Recently graded (& some still being done) the surface was like a billiard table, ‘smooth as’ – all the way to Oodnadatta. We stopped for the night 50 odd kms before Oodnadatta at the Algebuckina Bridge. I should mention here that the track essentially follows the route of the old Ghan rail line for much of it’s distance, & so much of the history along it’s length is rail related. The bridge, a substantial metal affair is but one of the many artifactual (is there such a word) remnants, no doubt with many tales to tell. Several folk were already camped under or close to the bridge. The creek it crosses was dry bar for some salt encrusted black ooze & the millions of flies which seem to like such surroundings. I recalled that Peter & Margaret, well travelled friends, had told us long ago, “don’t camp at the bridge where everyone else does, go to the waterhole close by”. And so we searched for & found the waterhole, a length of river with deep water, fish jumping & birdlife, a beautiful spot we shared with just one other vehicle. It was a great evening with our first camp fire cooked meal since leaving home.

On to Oodnadatta, a small aboriginal town best known for it’s Pink Roadhouse & it’s claim to being Australia’s hottest & driest town, a place to refuel & for us to buy a few small bananas for over $1 each, before continuing north along the track for another 20kms or so & then taking a smaller & ever more corrugated track for 180kms to the Witjira National Park & Dalhousie hot springs.

The track took us through both flat & hilly gibber plains, the track itself just scraped a few centimetres below the surrounding landscape, across dry river beds some many kilometres wide, winding in & out of trees on loose sandy base, & sometimes even over occasional dunes mid creek. It was hard to imagine how much water must flow through this at times. Exiting a smaller creek bed we encountered our first dingo. It seemed as curious about us as we did about it. We stopped & got out to take a photo & it stood it’s ground eyeing us up, eventually, as though it’s curiosity were satisfied just strolled casually away.

The campground at Dalhousie Springs was a further 40 or 50 kms from when we passed into the national Park, & the country changed. It was more vegetated, with crests of hills affording us expansive views of some beautiful country. Half way to the springs we stopped off at the ruins of the old Dalhousie Homestead & imagined ourselves to be living in such an isolated but beautiful place so long ago. We were pleased to see the way in which information boards respected & paid homage to the indigenous peoples of this country who’s lives & culture were disrupted so severely by the white fellas who thought establishing a station here had been a good idea. Culture destroyed for a failed station. Not an isolated story & unfortunately also not one from which much has been learned. Similar mistakes & lack of respect/understanding continue in Australia today.

I’m now off for a swim in the springs, MrsTea tells me they are wonderful. (EDIT: They are – perfect bathtub temperature for this cold water woosie boy, & a natural artesian flow to boot. No man made bore here. We both emerged after a lengthy soak wrinkled like a pair of prunes). Tomorrow we continue en route to Alice Springs via Mt Dare Station, Old Andado Station, Finke, & Chambers Pillar. We expect to be in Alice in around a weeks time, when we should be able to access a phone signal to post this blog entry. Boy I’ve written more than I had expected to. Hope at least some is of interest to you!