15 August 2011 - Weipa Camping Ground, Queensland

The night passed without great event, but for the trips through the crowds of other campers, the way lit by the bright moon. The fruit bats were busy in the palms beside the swimming pool, not bothering with the likes of middle aged sleepy people fumbling their way to the camp amenities.

We were up early up, and after breakfast, I charged the computer up while doing a load of laundry, and chatting with those that came in with their laundry. Most of the chat involved whether they were traveling up or down and the condition of the road. They do consume one’s being; these rough red roads of the Cape.

We then walked over to the shopping centre which boasts a chemist, a hairdresser, a clothing shop, a camping store, a newsagent (where we brought the two day old Weekend Australian at twice the price we normally pay) and a Woolworths which we discovered charges prices similar to those one finds in Cairns.

Unsuccessful in finding a  part for the gas cooker, we drove to the Mitre 10 at Evans landing just a few kilometers back south across the small peninsula that Weipa is situated on, and sourced some o’rings of our own and a new small single burner cooker and a store of butane canisters. We also filled up with diesel paying $1.67 a litre, only 10 cents more than Lakeland.

We returned to camp taking the road around the seaward side, past Lakes Patricia and McLeod which are mine sights reinstated in a very attractive manner. We stopped and walked around wharf at Evans Landing noting the crocodile signs everywhere.

Machinery moving the mined bauxite

Chris washed car which seemed a little silly when we were soon to venture back on to the dust soon enough, however he assured me it was better for the paint work to minimize the dust layers at any one time. The cruiser certainly looked good again, particularly among all the rest of the filthy vehicles in camp.

We lunched on the bread purchased at Woolworths, frozen, and worse than the last two slices salvaged from eski and finished cheese, now soft and less inviting.



At 2.30 pm, we joined the Weipa mine bus tour, firstly around the town owned and administered by Rio Tinto. The driver who also acted as guide along with an audio tape he switched on from time to time was excellent, and while we did think the tour was over priced at $30 per head, we were pleased to have taken it.

The bus driver took delight in recounting the latest crocodile attack here in Weipa. A chap was fishing below the pub just along the beach from us. A three metre crocodile came up beach, bit off his finger, then grabbed his leg and tried to flip him but fisherman was holding on to a tree for all he was worth, trying to poke his attacker in the eyes, or any other likely vulnerable parts. At one point he threw his dog to the crocodile in an attempt to distract it, but the dog simply swam back unscathed. Finally the patrons at pub heard his cries and came and beat the croc off with sticks and the injured fisherman was stabilized and flown to Cairns for treatment. He has returned to his normal life only missing a finger and walking with a limp.

Some of the facts absorbed on tour:

• Of the population of  three thousand, nine hundred are children under 14 at school.
• A metre of top soil is scraped off and carted on to already mined land, spread out over the area, top-dressed with more seed and fertiliser in readiness for the rains of the Wet, and then nature takes its course.
• A specially appointed council oversees the regeneration and reinstatement of land after mining and will do so for a whole fifteen years after the sowing.
• 250.5 million ton of bauxite are shipped out of Weipa annually, 95% to Gladstone for Rio Tinto or subsidiaries (slotting in with the information gleaned on the excellent industry tours we took there) and the remaining 5% to China and other countries.

 As I write this, it is pitch dark. The moon has yet to rise or is otherwise hidden by clouds. The cicadas are singing and the birds have all gone to sleep.

A huge bush fire that was earlier simply a pall of smoke is now visibly growing, raging red and fierce on the other side of the Embly River, so we safe. 

Our camp on the Weipa Beach shore

When we arrived here we were uncertain how many days we would stay, so booked only for two nights, with the option of extending. We have decided to move on in the morning, back in to the dust, cutting through a track off the main road to save nearly a 66 kilometres. Where we shall erect our tent tomorrow, who knows.