As we were not expected at BNS Refrigeration until after 9.30 am, we took our time packing up and thus our day ran later than normal schedule even allowing for yet another time change as we crossed the border. I even had time to touch base with Olly on Skype; he must have been at work. Employees today are not as they were in my day, but then when you have politicians sending catty Tweets during question time in the Federal Parliament, what sort of example is being set by the high and mighty?
The
“young feller” at BNS had a good look at the workings of our three way fridge,
attached the outlet pipe that Chris had fixed with tape a week ago and said
everything was just fine, and so $66 later, we came away with peace of mind and
resolve to make the milk daily and carry fewer frozen goods while in this part
of the world at this time of the year.
It was
about 10.30am by the time we set off out of town. We had attempted to buy a
copy of one of the national papers but instead had to settle for a copy of the North West Star, an excellent rag if you want to catch up with
what the local school kids have been doing on the sports field or the latest
annoyances caused by the local council. Other than the weather and the day’s
television times, there is little to interest the foreigner.
I had
forgotten how much the road climbs up out of Mount Isa onto the tableland, as
it continues to track through the ranges behind the town. Camooweal is just 188
kilometres from Mount Isa and the border is a further thirteen kilometres on. We
stopped for lunch well before that last Queensland settlement, at the Inca
Creek Rest Area, coincidentally where we had lunched last time we came through.
About fifty
kilometres west of Camooweal, we passed a couple on a tandem cycle, well protected
in legionnaires sunhats and clothing from wrist to ankle. They had made their
way across the Tablelands in this terrible heat and bright sunlight. “Silly
bastards”, Chris labelled them and I cannot but agree.
We did
meet up with a similarly crazy cyclist in Longreach; a man well past middle age
on a a well laden bike setting off for Jundah, 220 kilometres south into the
wilderness. We retrieved his helmet that had fallen off his bike. He thanked us
remarking that it was a pain to have to carry it as his sunhat was of more use.
Still, the law was the law, he said as he propped it back on top of his saddle
bags.
The day
has been hot and is still just below 40 degrees as I write this. The road
across the Barkly Tablelands continues to be as straight as those through the
Mitchell Grasslands, and it was enough for us to come only this far, eighty eight
kilometres short of where we stopped on our last trip through. The flies are
terrible; we just hope the smaller flying insects that drove us crazy last time
are not as plentiful this evening. We blamed their presence on the recent
bushfires last time; now those blackened areas have regenerated and hopefully
repopulated with enough insect eating birds and critters to make our life a
little more bearable.
We have
decided to continue on through to Threeways after all, rather than detour north
to Cape Crawford. I gave the hotel proprietor a call from Mount Isa and she
informed me that access was still closed until April. I do fear though that we
were at cross purposes and that we could still have made our way to those to
the south under our own steam. I have let it go as Chris was not as keen as I.
Looking through the brochures and travel guides we have picked up, it seems
that there will be plenty of other wonders in the Northern Territory to thrill
us.
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