16 October 2011 - Normanton Tourist Park, Gulf of Carpentaria, Queensland

Two days of relaxing, enjoying even less stress than the normal diet of no stress; prescription for illnesses caused by travel. How hideous it must be for those who suffer like me to spend ten days at the holiday destination unwell just in time to head back to work! I consider myself fortunate in this regard.

The caravan park here is just the best sort for fudging out. We are surrounded in shady trees filled with a miscellany of birds, and the barking geckos and frogs are out in force at night. The fellow tourists however are scarcer, most having headed further south chasing the cooler temperatures. There is a pool here, quite sizeable that draws most of those staying here at one stage of the day or another. To date my “doctor” has forbidden such activity, however I do intend to get in at least once before we move on.

Yesterday morning we wandered up the wide quiet streets to Normanton Traders to buy a more up to date newspaper, or alternatively some publication that may offer a television guide. We found a selection of the Brisbane Courier Mail, able to choose from any one day of last week, and found last Wednesday’s edition that included a weekly summary of what was on the box. Hence we were able to confirm the time of the big Rugby World Cup games this weekend. As we wandered back at a pace suitable for this steamy weather, we noted the beautiful flowers on the trees that decorate the town; frangipani, hibiscus, and so many unknown varieties.

Outside the shire administration building is a concrete statue of Krys the Crocodile, a life size tribute to a crocodile shot by Krystina Powlowski in July 1957. Her husband Ron, who photographed the slain beast estimated Krys to be over two tons. He measured the length to be 8.63 meters and took several photographs to establish the correct size. Most were lost in the 1974 floods however one graces the informative panel alongside the replica. Both the crocodile (even in death) and Krystina with her gun have that “don’t mess with me” look.

Krys the crocodile

Here in Normanton, aboriginal people make up about 60% of the population, but none of those you encounter in shops and service industries, or their ancestors, have been here for more than two hundred years. The council have gone out of their way here to erect signs and parks and areas for recreation, such as the wonderful fishing area on the old bridge over the Norman River, which we stopped to walk over ourselves this morning. Here there are seats, barbeque plates, fish cleaning and gutting benches with water laid on, stainless steel tubes to hold your rod on the side of the bridge in case you need to leave your rod for a moment, rubbish bins, but alas, as so often the case with the ungrateful public, there are cigarette butts, empty soft drink bottles and cans, fish guts and large carnivorous ants on patrol. Hopefully when the monsoon rains arrive, the filth will be washed away and the area will again be restored to the excellent state it was when the council presented it to the people. This morning there was an aboriginal family down under the bridge, sitting as they do in the shade, but then it is Sunday, and we are now doing the same here under our awning.  

The afternoon was spent even more sedentary waiting for the game between France and Wales showing at 5.30 pm. We set our chairs up outside the van, turned in toward the door from where we could see the television. Mosquito coils were set up, along with the ultra violet light bug zapper. Chris doused himself in Bushman’s bug spray, had dinner as prepared as it could be prior to the actual cooking and we were ready. These matters go down in history to be recalled by rugby lovers but for us will be forgotten within the weeks to come. France won by one point, defending well but playing below expectations given that Wales had their main scrum man injured and replaced early in the piece and their captain disgraced for a high tackle, spending the rest of the game watching from the side. The short sided team went on to play bravely, adopted by the crowd as the darlings of the day, despite their eventual loss. And so, it will be France who plays the winner of tonight’s match; the Wallabies v. All Blacks.

This morning I spent time in the kitchen fighting an infestation of tiny ants, found in the milk powder as I went to make up more milk. Had I a sieve it would have been of little use, because they would have simply enjoyed the game; Passing through the Sieve. I laborously spooned the powder into a plate and caught each one individually. Unfortunately this is not a failsafe method and there will no doubt be some who will survive to swim in Chris’ cereal. Chris assures me that they will do little harm, and given that they do not reek of formalin when squashed, they should simply add protein.  

We went out for a drive, hoping to do a circuit about the lagoon wetland areas of Normanton, a drive of perhaps fifty kilometres. Unfortunately the RACQ map shows routes that are barred from public thoroughfare and so we ended up driving up and down roads going nowhere. The sky had closed in on the landscape, seeming at first to be like bush fire smoke, but soon interpreted as humid fog. Later it cleared, and even later the wind came up, chasing any residue away.

We called into the Railway Station and wandered about through the palms, mango trees and old engines, leaving with four ripe mangoes rescued from the lawn. We would like to visit the museum, but it was not open today and there was no indication as to when it might do so. Perhaps we will check out the Information Centre again tomorrow morning, but then who knows what tomorrow will bring.