15 October 2011 Normanton Tourist Park, Gulf of Carpentaria, Queensland

We are now established in this shady park, happily for us, not very crowded. There is a delightful breeze blowing which makes the warm temperatures rather attractive.

Our camp beside the Gilbert River

Our exploration of the Gilbert River this morning offered little more than we had already seen; that this river in the Wet must indeed be a mighty menace, rushing over the bridge even though there is such a wide bed to accommodate the extra water.

The road westward from the river all the way to Normanton was sealed, two laned and excellent. We paused at Croydon to top up with diesel, then  drove through slowly and wondered why tourists make the effort to catch the famous Gulflander train from Normanton on Wednesdays to Croydon, returning the next day. Perhaps the bonhomie of fellow passengers is what they seek and that is probably assured. Otherwise, why would you?

At Black Bull, the one railway station between the start and the destination, we pulled off and lunched, interrupted by sudden activity on the rail. Eight motorised jiggers arrived, obviously a tour party. All were wearing orange shirts and blue pants in keeping with safety regulations, and all alighted with their packed lunch. We headed off as they were getting ready to push on to Croydon.

The Savannah Way by road or train is gently undulating, mostly of open eucalypt forest. Cattle graze unfenced on the road side and this morning the roos that had lost their game of chicken lay like slalom points on the road. Crows and harriers hover about waiting for the big trucks to make their meals more manageable by flattening, tenderising or mashing, and then become so engrossed in their feasting, they sometimes miss hearing the oncoming cars. We toot, but I am sure we are in the minority.

We were absolutely delighted to see masses, even thousands, of the black cockatoos, with the red feathers under their tails. They too were hanging about for excitement near the road edge. At one point we approached a flock of about two hundred who rose in all directions in front of us; we manage to slow thus avoiding hitting any.

Normanton has a population of 1,500, wide streets, sells newspapers just a day old, has two camping grounds, and will be our home for a couple of days. We will investigate this very small town over the weekend and hopefully find one of the pubs keen to show the World Cup Rugby if we cannot get the right channels on the television.

I have also given in to the fact that my illness brought back from New Zealand will not go away with just exciting travel and good food. I found a stash of antibiotics in the cupboard, and have started consuming them with meals my wonderful husband provides. We will stay put until I am well, and next time we travel to New Zealand I will wear one of those stupid looking surgical masks. Better to look a dork for four hours than suffer illness for months. After so many months of being so very well, I resent feeling anything less.

And tonight I think it may rain; really rain. I look forward to that.