We
passed a relatively quiet night alone beside the highway except for two small
events. The first related to the sighting of an echidna, for us quite a thrill.
Chris had popped out to check that the landcruiser was all locked and I was in
the shower, such as we take when we are camping with rationed water and
electricity. He called out to me that I must come at once and so I did, wet,
wrapped in a towel and with plastic clogs; quite a sight which was fortunately
not caught by any passerby. The important outcome was that I was able to see
this amazing creature hurrying away as fast as he could, which is not very fast
at all. Chris hopefully caught him on camera. (I have yet to download or check
photos taken over the past few days.)
The
second was a little more unnerving and in the end, of no consequence at all. We
retired immediately after Chris had thrashed me at Scrabble and then heard a
rather grunty vehicle roll into the rest area, stop, voices, move on, stop and
so on. Finally after quite some time, it did move on but not before I had
suffered some anxiety. It is such nothing events that make one reconsider free
camping alone on the road in such a very remote area.
This
morning I woke early enough to see the sun just below the treeline, silhouetting
the beautiful bush. Soon it was up and shining upon the solar panels making for
a happy day. We were off before 9 am travelling the last one hundred kilometres
on to Bourke, our second visit to the Back o’Beyond. South of Bourke, the
welcome sign states that one is entering “The Real Outback” here and so we must
have arrived after all.
I cannot
remember the state of the weather when we last called however I do know that
today everything looked lovelier than it did six months or so ago. There were
quite a few aboriginal folk about, looking busy, well dressed, clean and
altogether quite attractive, an entirely different cup of tea from those one
sees in Alice Springs. The fat lazy looking women about were all white. We
passed three policemen on duty in the relatively small town centre and spoke to
a couple to enquire after the whereabouts of the Information Centre. We shopped
at the Super IGA for fresh vegetables and fruit, bought the day’s newspaper
which had just arrived, filled with diesel at about 16 cents a litre more than
we had paid in Canberra and headed north again on the Mitchell Highway.
It was
interesting to note the citrus orchards on the northern bank of the Darling
River at North Bourke; I had read about them last time but not seen any
evidence of such horticultural activity and had a problem believing that citrus
would be grown here in the outback. I was wrong.
It is
about 250 kilometres from Bourke to Cunnamulla, 130 kilometres from Bourke to
the border. We crossed the border at about 1.30 pm EST (Eastern Standard Time)
after having stopped at a layby for lunch, sharing the spot with a very large
red double decker bus camper and a small campervan from Victoria.
South of
the border we came upon a very large mob of cattle on the road, spread out for
a couple of kilometres and grazing the wide berm green with fresh grass. Rain
had passed over and was now far to the north on the horizen ahead. The cattle
were distant cousins to the Brahman we have encountered all over Queensland in
earlier travels. They were quiet, quite patient with the vehicles passing
through them although one small calf nearly learned the road code the hard way.
Thank goodness we have good brakes!
The
roadkill today included a cat, an echidna, a few wild boars and the inevitable
roos. We nearly contributed to the roo tally ourselves. The rain which started
soon after we left Cunnamulla had effectively put an end to the daytime siesta
of the kangaroos and we took care to alert the roos near the edge of the road
we were coming through. A couple stood poised to cross; one turned away and the
other started to come out just as we drove by. To me in the passenger seat it
seemed that impact was inevitable, that he would be caught by the caravan at
the very least. Fortunately for the roo, as he launched himself the edge of the
road, he slipped on the wet seal and fell flat on his face. He probably does
not appreciate how lucky he was!
Cunnamulla
was shrouded in rain mist and not at all attractive as we came into the town,
making the effort to visit the town which is not mandatory in keeping to the
Mitchell Highway. This town of about 1,300 people seemed rather scruffy and did
not appeal at all. However our Tomtom took us around the outside of the centre
to the Information Centre where we found a very friendly chap, happy to hand us
piles of brochures, suggest camping grounds and inform us that the rain was
most welcome, the first real rain for the past six or seven months, quite
unlike the deluge that the regions to the eat of the state. We were also able
to confirm the time in this new time zone and synchronise watches.
The town
began its life in the 1860s as a stock route junction, the intersection of the
Charleville to Bourke route with the St George to Thurgomindah. Today it is
still the centre of a thriving pastoral industry and promotes itself as a
tourist attraction too, highlighting its artesian water spa. Alas we could only think about moving on, the
day passing quickly and already having been on the road for several hours.
And so
we came on to Wyandra, settled to service the rail between Cunnamulla and
Charleville after the line was constructed. This little village of just 116
folk does its best to woo the passing traveller, to have them stop by in this
free camp tucked away behind the public school, asking for just a small
donation. There is a café and a pub that one simply must patronise according to
the message on the back of the toilet door and a heritage trail to wander about
that will surely take one to either of these watering holes.
For now
it is raining. We and the one other party, the Victorians from our lunch stop
are happy to have a safe place to overnight and will venture forth tomorrow and
do the place justice, if the weather allows.
No comments:
Post a Comment