Apologies everyone for taking so long to post again! Here we go….
After Tom left Cairns the plan was taking shape to travel up Cape York with a friend I’d met at the festivals, 'Chile Nick' as we called him because his name was Nick… and he came from Chile. A mad bird watcher, he was keen to travel up the Cape which holds some of Australia's rarest and most fascinating birds. Though both our funds were a bit short we thought we could do it, but in the end he opted for a trip to Asia instead. I decided to head north anyway, and visited an old cricket mate, Benny Watson, in Port Douglas. After that I thought I’d see how far I could get- I was waiting for my tax return to come through and thought Lake field National Park could keep me occupied for a couple of weeks- at any rate I was down to a pretty small amount of cash… I had $20 left after I bought 3 weeks supplies and a tank of diesel!! A full tank gave me about 800k’s to play with, and I headed north through Cooktown, the last decent sized town before the Cape York wilderness took over, and passed the Black Mountain Range on the way north.
There were two routes into Lakefield NP, I chose the one that had actually been closed (as I found out later), which made for an interesting ride. After two hours crawling over ruts and dodging washouts I came to a bridge, the approach to which was a long patch of greasy, sticky mud. The beauty of having a winch! I ploughed in and this was the predictable result:
So the winch got its first real run (the winch being the thing under the number plate- a big spool with a motorised drum that winds a cable in- pulling you out of bogs like the one above). It got its second run 2 minutes later- to winch me off the same bridge and up the other side!
The winches' third run came on the same day after I hit a big submerged rock (to the left of the front wheel) that stopped me dead, after which I couldn’t get anywhere:
So all in all I’m a fan of winches- beats hours with a shovel and getting verrryyy dirty…
And not long after I made it to Lakefield NP and the Old Laura Station homestead.
Originally a cattle property, it forms the basis of Lakefield NP now. I found a great campsite on the river behind, and had just put up the awning and was ready to crack out my $25 tent (having lost the Taj Mahal tent in Cairns!) when I heard a very loud bark coming from a dense thicket about 30 metres away by the water. I didn’t know crocs barked until this moment… I just knew it was a croc. I found out later that barking and growling is common croc behaviour. In any case, that was the end of that campsite...
I camped near the homestead that night, and the next day went in search of a good spot to camp for a week while I waited for the taxman to cough up. Something off the beaten track was in order, since I was trying to dodge the rangers who would have wanted $5 a night- too expensive for me at that stage! At 6 Mile hole I found the perfect spot. Sandy campsite and plenty of shade:
And this was home sweet home for the next five days. I was loving being in the bush, and the solitude was enjoyable in its own way. The fact of having no money actually slowed me down to the point where I simply enjoyed the whole experience, forgot about plans, destinations, the world really. The weather was perfect every day, sunny and about 25. I read books, fished lazily and ticked off new birds I’d seen in my Field guide as I wandered around and explored. The fishing here was great- I caught 6 or so Archer fish, beautiful to eat and fun to catch, and I had a few lunches of red claw, a really sweet tasting yabby that came up in the opera nets. No Barramundi though...
I had one experience that really got the adrenaline going- I came across a pretty huge wild boar on a walk one day, and had a bit of fun following him for a bit, until he decided he wanted to head my way. He got within a stone’s throw when I decided that that was close enough. I could see his tusks clearly enough anyway… he dipped down into a little gully and I decided to make some noise to scare him off. So I shouted out a bit, thinking he'd bolt as most animals do. It didn’t have the desired effect- he simply started a low, rumbling snarl. As the saying goes, discretion is the better part of valour, and I scrambled up the nearest tree (actually a large sapling) to escape the charge I thought was coming. He kept grumbling away for a minute or two, while I dangled a couple of metres off the ground in the breeze- he didn't seem to have made up his mind so I decided to make hay while the sun shone- in the end I was the one bolting through the bush!
I’ll throw in a few photos that kind of sum the rest of Lakefield up:
Throw it all in the camp oven and go fishing… a favourite way to cook now. Amazing how good things taste out of one of these!
I drove out to Laura town to fax a few things to Melbourne, and drove on to the famous Split Rock art site a few k’s out. Pretty amazing to think of the ancient culture recorded there…
On the way north to Musgrave I crossed the Kalpowar River… the crossing is a concrete causeway so it's not quite as challenging as it looks. A fisherman was taken by a croc here years ago, but it is known for good barra catches.
The giant termite mounds were a novelty… the vanes you can see are designed to regulate temperature, so the termites always have the right temperature somewhere in the mound. They are rock hard too, and when driving along the tracks you have to keep an eye out for them...
One of the locals…
From Musgrave I decided to give the Cape a miss this time- too far to go and too little money. So I headed south again on the Peninsula road. This is about all the civilisation you get on the Peninsula road- about every 200k’s or so…
From here I decided to head across the gulf country and make it to the Northern Territory. I drove nearly 700 kilometres between fuel points on the Burke Development road, just camping on the rivers I found as I went along. I was really outback at that point, and enjoying the freedom of the wilderness. Now and then you would pass a station, see maybe 2 or 3 cars a day- it was great fun motoring along with the stereo going, the endless dirt road and blue sky, and camping on the banks of some magnificent rivers. I guess it was all private property but every now and then you’d find a track and just follow it for a while, and inevitably you’d find a great spot to camp and fish. I also met a few interesting travellers this way as well, even got invited to one roast dinner with a couple from Melbourne, Keith and Helen. Here’s one example of the many gulf country rivers, the Smithburne:
Then into Normanton. The photo says it all, as in not much!
Normanton was okay really, the main feature (as far as I was concerned) was the bridge from which I took this photo of the Norman river.
This patch of water had a great reputation as a barramundi fishing spot- so I spent an afternoon catching live bait with the cast net and was well set up for the night. I had plenty of company, quite a few locals were down there too, and the barramundi were about as well. Seems they were in the mood for live prawns though, and totally igonored my potty mullet while blokes next to me were hooking barramundi every 20 minutes or so on the prawns. It was pretty exciting to see the mythical barra coming up anyway- having seen them I can understand the mystique. They are a spectacular fish! One interesting campsite I found was near this:
… a memorial erected at the site of Burke & Wills last campsite (camp no. 311) on their journey north to the gulf. They were within 30 or so km’s of their destination at this point, but exhausted and out of supplies. They desperately wanted a view of the sea, and 30 k’s doesn’t sound like a lot but when it's salt marsh and mangroves it might as well have been a hundred k’s. Travelling through this country gave me a new respect for the stories of the old explorers, they were really incredibly tough and brave people. The country seems beautiful and tame when you’re fed, watered, and have a map to follow (not to mention a road, a car and air con!) but it must have been a nightmare at times for those guys. On the other side of the Bynoe River from Burke & Wills camp no. 311:
Yep, I saw plenty of this: endless roads full of bulldust patches, river and creek crossings and clear blue sky...
I got into the habit of cooking dampers for breakfast, and I’ve just about perfected the art. Bit of flour, water, salt and 30 minutes in the camp oven. Add butter, jam and a coffee and you’ve got an incredible way to start a day in the bush!
After Tom left Cairns the plan was taking shape to travel up Cape York with a friend I’d met at the festivals, 'Chile Nick' as we called him because his name was Nick… and he came from Chile. A mad bird watcher, he was keen to travel up the Cape which holds some of Australia's rarest and most fascinating birds. Though both our funds were a bit short we thought we could do it, but in the end he opted for a trip to Asia instead. I decided to head north anyway, and visited an old cricket mate, Benny Watson, in Port Douglas. After that I thought I’d see how far I could get- I was waiting for my tax return to come through and thought Lake field National Park could keep me occupied for a couple of weeks- at any rate I was down to a pretty small amount of cash… I had $20 left after I bought 3 weeks supplies and a tank of diesel!! A full tank gave me about 800k’s to play with, and I headed north through Cooktown, the last decent sized town before the Cape York wilderness took over, and passed the Black Mountain Range on the way north.
There were two routes into Lakefield NP, I chose the one that had actually been closed (as I found out later), which made for an interesting ride. After two hours crawling over ruts and dodging washouts I came to a bridge, the approach to which was a long patch of greasy, sticky mud. The beauty of having a winch! I ploughed in and this was the predictable result:
So the winch got its first real run (the winch being the thing under the number plate- a big spool with a motorised drum that winds a cable in- pulling you out of bogs like the one above). It got its second run 2 minutes later- to winch me off the same bridge and up the other side!
The winches' third run came on the same day after I hit a big submerged rock (to the left of the front wheel) that stopped me dead, after which I couldn’t get anywhere:
So all in all I’m a fan of winches- beats hours with a shovel and getting verrryyy dirty…
And not long after I made it to Lakefield NP and the Old Laura Station homestead.
Originally a cattle property, it forms the basis of Lakefield NP now. I found a great campsite on the river behind, and had just put up the awning and was ready to crack out my $25 tent (having lost the Taj Mahal tent in Cairns!) when I heard a very loud bark coming from a dense thicket about 30 metres away by the water. I didn’t know crocs barked until this moment… I just knew it was a croc. I found out later that barking and growling is common croc behaviour. In any case, that was the end of that campsite...
I camped near the homestead that night, and the next day went in search of a good spot to camp for a week while I waited for the taxman to cough up. Something off the beaten track was in order, since I was trying to dodge the rangers who would have wanted $5 a night- too expensive for me at that stage! At 6 Mile hole I found the perfect spot. Sandy campsite and plenty of shade:
And this was home sweet home for the next five days. I was loving being in the bush, and the solitude was enjoyable in its own way. The fact of having no money actually slowed me down to the point where I simply enjoyed the whole experience, forgot about plans, destinations, the world really. The weather was perfect every day, sunny and about 25. I read books, fished lazily and ticked off new birds I’d seen in my Field guide as I wandered around and explored. The fishing here was great- I caught 6 or so Archer fish, beautiful to eat and fun to catch, and I had a few lunches of red claw, a really sweet tasting yabby that came up in the opera nets. No Barramundi though...
I had one experience that really got the adrenaline going- I came across a pretty huge wild boar on a walk one day, and had a bit of fun following him for a bit, until he decided he wanted to head my way. He got within a stone’s throw when I decided that that was close enough. I could see his tusks clearly enough anyway… he dipped down into a little gully and I decided to make some noise to scare him off. So I shouted out a bit, thinking he'd bolt as most animals do. It didn’t have the desired effect- he simply started a low, rumbling snarl. As the saying goes, discretion is the better part of valour, and I scrambled up the nearest tree (actually a large sapling) to escape the charge I thought was coming. He kept grumbling away for a minute or two, while I dangled a couple of metres off the ground in the breeze- he didn't seem to have made up his mind so I decided to make hay while the sun shone- in the end I was the one bolting through the bush!
I’ll throw in a few photos that kind of sum the rest of Lakefield up:
Throw it all in the camp oven and go fishing… a favourite way to cook now. Amazing how good things taste out of one of these!
I drove out to Laura town to fax a few things to Melbourne, and drove on to the famous Split Rock art site a few k’s out. Pretty amazing to think of the ancient culture recorded there…
On the way north to Musgrave I crossed the Kalpowar River… the crossing is a concrete causeway so it's not quite as challenging as it looks. A fisherman was taken by a croc here years ago, but it is known for good barra catches.
The giant termite mounds were a novelty… the vanes you can see are designed to regulate temperature, so the termites always have the right temperature somewhere in the mound. They are rock hard too, and when driving along the tracks you have to keep an eye out for them...
One of the locals…
From Musgrave I decided to give the Cape a miss this time- too far to go and too little money. So I headed south again on the Peninsula road. This is about all the civilisation you get on the Peninsula road- about every 200k’s or so…
From here I decided to head across the gulf country and make it to the Northern Territory. I drove nearly 700 kilometres between fuel points on the Burke Development road, just camping on the rivers I found as I went along. I was really outback at that point, and enjoying the freedom of the wilderness. Now and then you would pass a station, see maybe 2 or 3 cars a day- it was great fun motoring along with the stereo going, the endless dirt road and blue sky, and camping on the banks of some magnificent rivers. I guess it was all private property but every now and then you’d find a track and just follow it for a while, and inevitably you’d find a great spot to camp and fish. I also met a few interesting travellers this way as well, even got invited to one roast dinner with a couple from Melbourne, Keith and Helen. Here’s one example of the many gulf country rivers, the Smithburne:
Then into Normanton. The photo says it all, as in not much!
Normanton was okay really, the main feature (as far as I was concerned) was the bridge from which I took this photo of the Norman river.
This patch of water had a great reputation as a barramundi fishing spot- so I spent an afternoon catching live bait with the cast net and was well set up for the night. I had plenty of company, quite a few locals were down there too, and the barramundi were about as well. Seems they were in the mood for live prawns though, and totally igonored my potty mullet while blokes next to me were hooking barramundi every 20 minutes or so on the prawns. It was pretty exciting to see the mythical barra coming up anyway- having seen them I can understand the mystique. They are a spectacular fish! One interesting campsite I found was near this:
… a memorial erected at the site of Burke & Wills last campsite (camp no. 311) on their journey north to the gulf. They were within 30 or so km’s of their destination at this point, but exhausted and out of supplies. They desperately wanted a view of the sea, and 30 k’s doesn’t sound like a lot but when it's salt marsh and mangroves it might as well have been a hundred k’s. Travelling through this country gave me a new respect for the stories of the old explorers, they were really incredibly tough and brave people. The country seems beautiful and tame when you’re fed, watered, and have a map to follow (not to mention a road, a car and air con!) but it must have been a nightmare at times for those guys. On the other side of the Bynoe River from Burke & Wills camp no. 311:
Yep, I saw plenty of this: endless roads full of bulldust patches, river and creek crossings and clear blue sky...
I got into the habit of cooking dampers for breakfast, and I’ve just about perfected the art. Bit of flour, water, salt and 30 minutes in the camp oven. Add butter, jam and a coffee and you’ve got an incredible way to start a day in the bush!
Travelling on further through the Savannah way I passed through Burketown- and didn’t get a photo, but picture a handful of sheds and ramshackle houses and you’ve got it. The destination at this point was the famous Lawn Hill Gorge National Park, and I went via Gregory Downs, named after the famous explorer. It’s a beautiful little oasis with plenty of camping along the banks with a crystal clear river flowing through- you really need to drive for a week through dry and dusty country with croc infested waters to appreciate how awesome it was to find a spot where you could camp for free and swim without fear of being eaten! Was good to be back on top of the food chain again… And from there I headed to Lawn Hill Gorge, which has a well deserved reputation. Here are a few photos- they speak for themselves...
As you can see it’s basically as close to a paradise as you can get. Lawn Hill Gorge was probably the most spectacular place I visited in Queensland, really remarkable beauty. The water is safe to swim in as well, holding only the freshwater crocodile (the worst they do is give you a nip if cornered apparently- very comforting) and in the morning it was a magical place. It was a great end to the time I had had in Queensland, though I was pretty keen by now to get to the Northern Territory and see what was there. So back in the Land Rover and off to collect a bit more dust and bounce over a few more corrugations…
A fairly typical water crossing- this one was quite deep and long and I would have been thinking twice except I’d met a Land Rover the same as mine coming the other way and they’d just crossed it ok. “Just a bit of water in the doors…no worries mate,” the bloke had said. So in I plunged- quite a lot of fun once you know you’re going to make it through. The theory says you should walk crossings like this first to check the depth- the other unwritten part of the theory is that you should carry a passenger who gets out and checks the depth when you’re in croc country!
This was a lagoon on a property called Kingfisher Camp, a little oasis again on the road to the NT border:
Leaving Kingfisher camp I headed for Doomadgee to refuel and make for the border. A lot of communities in this country are ‘dry’ areas, and you always know exactly where the dry borders are- on the other side, stretching for a few k’s, are what some outback wits refer to as ‘wildflowers’- they are shiny green or yellow and are scattered in amazing quantities throughout the bush along the roadsides. Must be a few good parties along there!
About a hundred k’s later I reached the infamous Hell’s Gate, which is now marked out only by an abandoned roadhouse. The town (if you could call it that) got its name because it was the point at which the Queensland Police jurisdiction officially ended. Past here you were into truly wild country, and in the days of the early cattle drovers and settlers there were very fierce and dangerous Aboriginal tribes. If you disappeared without trace beyond here in the old days, no-one came looking for you. Of course the Aboriginal warriors knew this- and were often waiting on the other side for drovers pushing stock through. Amazing history and something I’d never heard of before. The more I travelled through this sort of country and the more I talked to people the more I realised how much history is sitting just below the surface in these places…
A view of the country a few miles past Hell’s Gate:
The road from here to the border was absolutely as rough as guts- perhaps the Queensland roads authority still considers it past their jurisdiction! It held the most bulldust (a superfine dust, you'd almost call it powder, which gets in everything) of any road I've been on. It makes for some interesting driving, when a patch appears out of nowhere and the next thing you know you're fighting to keep the car straight as you slide around. Good fun though!
And here I arrived... a dream fulfilled, making it into the Northern Territory… and it didn’t disappoint, with a big water crossing about 5 kilometres down the road. Was great to be here at this point, and feel I’d made it this far with no major dramas. More on the Northern Territory adventure to come, and I promise it won’t take three months to post. Cheers everyone!
As you can see it’s basically as close to a paradise as you can get. Lawn Hill Gorge was probably the most spectacular place I visited in Queensland, really remarkable beauty. The water is safe to swim in as well, holding only the freshwater crocodile (the worst they do is give you a nip if cornered apparently- very comforting) and in the morning it was a magical place. It was a great end to the time I had had in Queensland, though I was pretty keen by now to get to the Northern Territory and see what was there. So back in the Land Rover and off to collect a bit more dust and bounce over a few more corrugations…
A fairly typical water crossing- this one was quite deep and long and I would have been thinking twice except I’d met a Land Rover the same as mine coming the other way and they’d just crossed it ok. “Just a bit of water in the doors…no worries mate,” the bloke had said. So in I plunged- quite a lot of fun once you know you’re going to make it through. The theory says you should walk crossings like this first to check the depth- the other unwritten part of the theory is that you should carry a passenger who gets out and checks the depth when you’re in croc country!
This was a lagoon on a property called Kingfisher Camp, a little oasis again on the road to the NT border:
Leaving Kingfisher camp I headed for Doomadgee to refuel and make for the border. A lot of communities in this country are ‘dry’ areas, and you always know exactly where the dry borders are- on the other side, stretching for a few k’s, are what some outback wits refer to as ‘wildflowers’- they are shiny green or yellow and are scattered in amazing quantities throughout the bush along the roadsides. Must be a few good parties along there!
About a hundred k’s later I reached the infamous Hell’s Gate, which is now marked out only by an abandoned roadhouse. The town (if you could call it that) got its name because it was the point at which the Queensland Police jurisdiction officially ended. Past here you were into truly wild country, and in the days of the early cattle drovers and settlers there were very fierce and dangerous Aboriginal tribes. If you disappeared without trace beyond here in the old days, no-one came looking for you. Of course the Aboriginal warriors knew this- and were often waiting on the other side for drovers pushing stock through. Amazing history and something I’d never heard of before. The more I travelled through this sort of country and the more I talked to people the more I realised how much history is sitting just below the surface in these places…
A view of the country a few miles past Hell’s Gate:
The road from here to the border was absolutely as rough as guts- perhaps the Queensland roads authority still considers it past their jurisdiction! It held the most bulldust (a superfine dust, you'd almost call it powder, which gets in everything) of any road I've been on. It makes for some interesting driving, when a patch appears out of nowhere and the next thing you know you're fighting to keep the car straight as you slide around. Good fun though!
And here I arrived... a dream fulfilled, making it into the Northern Territory… and it didn’t disappoint, with a big water crossing about 5 kilometres down the road. Was great to be here at this point, and feel I’d made it this far with no major dramas. More on the Northern Territory adventure to come, and I promise it won’t take three months to post. Cheers everyone!
