Our trip into Cloncurry this morning was a continuation of the same beautiful scenery enjoyed the afternoon before. Outcrops of rugged red rock sprang from the otherwise flat, or seemingly flat, stations that are accessed by gravel roads from the highway, the entries barely marked, the tracks disappearing into the distance. Actual evidence of human habitation is scarce, the buildings and settlements are beyond view of the passing tourist. While it was evident from the road side fences that there must be cattle grazing somewhere near, the only beasts we saw were two that had been hit by road trains and lay inflated beside the road.
In 1861 when Burke and Wills were battling through the terrain looking for the Gulf of Carpentaria, Burke named the river Cloncurry after his cousin. Six years later, one Ernest Henry came wandering through the area looking for grazing land and instead discovered copper. Today the mine bearing his name still operates just north of the township. The town was surveyed in 1876 and given the same name as the river. Today it has a population of about 3,500. Situated at an altitude of 186 metres above sea level, Cloncurry enjoys much higher temperatures, often reaching the high 40s in the summer months and was notedn fact as having Australia’s highest recorded temperature taken in 1889 of 53 degrees centigrade. Chris says this is piffle because he has seen contrary facts in the Guinness Book of Records and other sources. Perhaps in 1889 it was the highest recorded temperature, but not necessarily after.
Cloncurry has also suffered hideous floods over the years and perhaps has had to rebuild or patch all too often to bother too much with the niceties of architecture. It seems to have all the services and shops that one would need, but did not appeal to us greatly. Having said that, we did meet lovely people and enjoyed our time there very much.
When we first arrived we drove to the Information Centre which is situated in the Mary Kathleen Park. Here one can visit the onsite museum and see memorabilia from the Mary Kathleen Uranium Mine and Township and see a water bottle discarded by Robert Burke on his outing with Wills. We decided to give that all a miss but did walk to the top of the hill behind the Centre, the best Cloncurry can offer as a lookout hill. The view below and all around did little to enhance our initial impression.
We then drove around to the Cloncurry Cemetery to visit in particular the Afghan corner, where the graves all face Mecca as opposed to the others which face toward the coast. The graves date from the turn of the century to about 1950. Cloncurry was Queensland’s largest “Ghantown” in the late 1880s and early 1900s. It was estimated that there were more than 200 Afghan Cameleers and 2000 camels providing transport in the Cloncurry district.
The cameleers with their strings of camels carried supplies, tools and machinery from the nearest railhead for homesteads, mining camps and townships returning with bales of wool and bags of ore. They also carried firewood, railway sleepers, telegraph poles, other necessary items and sometimes even water.
Despite their important contribution to Australia’s development, the cameleers were not always accepted and were often the victims of racial and religious intolerance. Although many lived most of their lives in Australia, there were not eligible for Australian citizenship because they were born in Asia. Many European teamsters objected to the cameleers for economic reasons. Camels could traverse country too difficult for horse and bullock teams, thus the time taken was shorter and the costs of transporting goods cheaper.
Only two graves remain and only one marked; that of the Ghantown’s mullah (priest), Syid O Mar who died in 1915, aged 45, from unknown causes. The Afghans who came with the camels are part of the more obscure history of this country, less celebrated but more interesting to me. Perhaps we should have visited that museum after all?
After lunch we visited the John Flynn Place Museum and Art Gallery. This was a fascinating exhibition, or rather a series of exhibitions, that was well worth the effort, time and entry fee. The greater part of the museum commemorates the work of Reverend John Flynn and the beginnings of his brainchild, the Royal Flying Doctor Service, which began in Cloncurry in May 1928. There is a one third scale of the plane that flew the first mission, a single engine DH150 named Victory. There is also a display and interpretive section about the Treagar pedal wireless and stories about how this revolutionised life in the outback. The opening up of communication and providing a net of safety for this community spread over such a great area, included the School of the Air. Audio tapes, a DVD and a mass of written information on all of this kept us occupied foralmost a couple of hours.
Before leaving the Museum we popped up to the top two floors to see the Fred McKay Art Gallery; there were quite a few excellent works.
We managed to pick up today's Courier Mail and thus armed, set off west toward Mount Isa. Our camp tonight is halfway between Mt Isa and Cloncurry, is as close to the road as last night, however this road is much busier than the Mathilda Highway. Huge trucks pulling three trailers are transporting material toward Mt Isa, sharing the road with the occasional stock truck and a variety of other traffic. At Cloncurry we noted that the railway does pass through, but then heads way south toward Duchess before heading back north west to Mt Isa. Obviously the roadway is one half the distance and the preferred option.
There are three other parties in here tonight; one a family of six, the four children between about eight and fifteen. Chris paused to chat with them and learned they have been travelling for a month, and are now heading back home on the east coast after having been up into the Northern Territory. They have a vehicle loaded with camping gear and somehow all manage to squeeze in!
Chris has just returned from the Gents after seeing the following graffiti on the wall which clearly spells out how the road train drivers feel about the likes of us:
The truckie wrote:
The next war Australia fights, they should send the Grey Nomads. There are a f…ing enough of them!
A traveller scrubbed out the f-word and wrote:
And history proves they have the balls to get the job done.
That says it all, doesn’t it. I shall start waving at the road train drivers.
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