16 August 2011 - Elliot Falls, Heathlands Resources Reserve, Cape York, Queensland

It is mid-morning and I am chasing flies off the end of my nose as I write this. We are camped on the sandy dust in what equates to a National Park camping area with toilets, easy access to tap water and a private camping bay. Payment is at a self-registration bay, a cost of $5.15 per person per night.

The short cut east of Weipa

Yesterday morning we left our camp at Weipa and headed back out on the dust. The roads had not improved in our absence, but were luxurious compared to what was to come. Sixty five kilometres east of Weipa, we turned off this highway with a view to cutting sixty six kilometres from the route that one would normally take to return to where the Weipa Road leaves the PDR (Peninsula Development Road). The surface of the road was corrugated much less than the main road, and passed up and down through dips of creeks, mostly dry. Our only companions on the route were the occasional cattle beast, several wallabies and the trillions of termites who reside in their numerous fluted towers. We soon entered the Batavia Downs station, crossed unscathed through the one major ford and back out on to the PDR where we soon passed the multitudes traveling to and from the top.

A quick stop for lunch

We stopped at Moreton Telegraph Station and walked down to the beautiful Wenlock River which we had crossed on a regular bridge, then carried on up to the Bramwell Roadhouse where the road divides, the Old Telegraph Road (OTR) heads directly north and the Northern Bypass heads out toward the east and up north along the Great Dividing Range. We parked opposite the roadhouse among a town of termite castles and ate our lunch before topping up with diesel, this time at $2 per litre, a mere 33 cents more than we had paid at Weipa.

The OTR is the great attraction for many of the travelers up the Cape; one of the great challenges for the genuine 4WDers here in Australia. The road was built and completed back in 1887 and was maintained for the subsequent one hundred years, In 1987, about twenty five years ago, the telephone companies made alternative arrangements and the road ceased to be maintained. We had not traveled this far to ruin our very expensive vehicle to this remarkable route, but were keen to hear the stories of those who were willing to.

Dwarfed by termite towers

The alternative route circles around to the east on the lower half of the neglected road, and then crosses over to the western side and finally meets with the OTR at Bamaga for those who choose to travel the length of it taking in the Jardine River ford. The Queensland Parks and Wildlife Service and the Injinoo Aboriginal Community have requested that all travelers use the ferry crossing and not drive their vehicles across the river. This could have more to do with revenue gathering rather than concerns for safety.

The Wenlock River

We had no fixed idea of where we would spend the night when we left Weipa, not being sure of the roads ahead. The options considered had been the Moreton Telegraph Station, Bramwell Station, Bramwell Roadhouse or where we have ended up, the latter was considered to be unlikely given the obstacles in reaching it late in the day.

The road rose away from the Bramwell Roadhouse and soon entered the Heathlands Resource Reserve where it became just awful, full of dust holes and corrugations you just could not bounce over, even with our greatly deflated tyres. We bounced and shuddered our way across until finally arriving on a ten kilometre stretch of glorious sealed road before the next junction. The countryside across the top was beautiful to see when one managed to take one’s eyes from the road; grevilleas, heath plants, casuarinas and banksias.

Nearing the junction of the Southern Bypass and the OTR, we checked on possible roadside spots if we found the access to Elliot Falls too difficult. The turn off to Fruit Bat Falls connected with the junction of the Northern Bypass and the OTR, and they, the falls, were a must see, but a day area and it was already about 3 pm.

The ford at Scrubby Creek Crossing

We drove the one kilometre into the Scrubby Creek crossing and parked in order to check it out. This is described in Ron Moon’s 4WD Cape York Adventure bible as “can be deep”. I volunteered to walk it, but Chris was adamant that I did not. He did not wish to lose me to the crocs. So we waited for another adventurer and finally after almost half an hour, when we were considering options, two vehicles towing camper trailers turned up. They were more casual about their chances with the crocodiles and walked in. Less than crutch deep, they decided to proceed. We watched the first vehicle plunge in and drop in to a hole, then carry on out to the other side, water streaming from every possible place. The second took it on the other side which seemed less pot holed. By this time I had crossed on foot through a very shallow section where an alternative crossing is situated having an almost vertical exit, and was standing on the other side, camera at the ready. Through Chris came and up the bank, water pouring from the sides, but safe. He said that he had not enjoyed it one bit, and for myself, I was pleased to have been the photographer rather than the driver.

Roadside bush fires

We pressed on for another five and a half kilometres, passing through the second crossing, dry and easy, but with so called controlled bush fires burning right to the track, the flames licking the undergrowth too close for comfort, and arrived at this lovely camp just full of fools like us. Some are ready to continue on up this OTR marked as being only suitable for extremely experienced 4WD drivers, and some are about to complete this northern section (however we have yet to meet with any of them). Most are like us, having taken a detour to break the hideous pounding and shuddering along the main road and to say we have driven 13 kilometres of the northern OTR (assuming we can get out of here in one piece).

Our camp at Elliot Falls

After we had set up camp, we went down to the Twin Falls and joined about ten others substituting their daily shower for a dip under the surprisingly warm water of the falls. The pool below the falls is not deep, has a lovely sandy bottom and is just wonderful. We did not linger longer because we had dinner to organise, eat and clear up all before dark set in. Later we sat about our camp fire listening to the cicadas. Much later some other creature started a loud tapping noise. A frog? A woodcutter? Perhaps we will find out today.

In the trees above us are many strange and wonderful nests of gum leaves woven together by the creatures within, probably ants. The odd brush turkey wanders by and the crows are permanent sentinels.

Twin Falls, a perfect  swimming spot

Chris did not pass a brilliant night. We retired too early for his liking and then once awake in the middle of the night, he was greatly disturbed by this noisy creature. He had also been bitten a hundred times all over his legs and is still feeling the effects.

This morning I have done some hand washing, Chris has repaired the snorkel on the vehicle that has rattled loose, we have erected a tarpaulin shelter and will soon venture down to the falls area, to read the interpretative panels (perhaps identifying the “pest”) and to explore the three waterfalls all within the same area. I am already wearing my cozzie in anticipation of much swimming.