From Darwin we made our way back to Katherine for lunch and supplies then headed further towards the centre to Mataranka, a small town known for its thermal pools. We’d only traveled some 400kms south and could already feel the cooling effects. Humidity had virtually disappeared and the temperature was at least 5-10 degrees cooler than the top end. It was pleasant for a change. Arriving early in the afternoon left us time to check out the springs a few hundred metres up the road from our caravan site. It was nestled in amongst the trees along a gravel walking track. The water was clear, fallen trees slimy with algae and stream moving with a fairly strong current. None of which seemed to deter our adventurous children. Piper pretty much dove right in and scrambled about barely able to battle the current pulling her up stream. There were a couple of small piers where we entered and further up the stream such that you could let the current carry you down then walk back. Some had actually brought their snorkel and mask to do the trek while others had their floating noodle to carry them lazily down the 34 degree stream. We did it the hard way without either and despite hitting a few hidden logs along the way managed quite well with only a few episodes of faux drowning. At the end there was a bridge and ladder to climb to exit as well as an easier route up some well placed concrete stairs – naturally the kids opted for the hard, more exciting route – the ladder. Contented that we’d had our fill, we trudged back to the caravan – now feeling a bit of a chill on our quickly drying bodies. Some lego and a good meal later, we finally clambered under our sheets (something we hadn’t done for weeks due to the heat) and had a restful evening.
Sometimes it seems we move through places so quickly it’s hard to keep track of what we’ve done or where we’ve been. It always takes me a few moments to gather my bearings when I sit down to write the blog as the past often seems a bit of a blur. We had a travel day in store, heading about 500 kms towards Tennant Creek. By midday we’d made it to Daly Waters, a former fueling stop for Qantas planes in early commercial aviation history when it took a good 15 stops and a few days to get to London. It was also used in WWII as a stop off point for soldiers heading up north to Darwin. Now it’s a drinking hole a few kms off the highway with a terrific reputation for being a true outback pub complete with nightly entertainment. The inside of the pub is decorated with assorted memorabilia such as ID badges, company cards, bras, men’s and women’s undies, t-shirts, caps, license plates and much more. I asked if Bill Bryson had left his undies here when he visited but the Irish barmaids hadn’t a clue. The menu consists of barramundi and beef in different forms – burgers, steaks or bites and there are about 5 different beers on tap. We stayed for some lunch and enjoyed watching a group from a tourist bus set up a bowling alley in the middle of the street to have a go. Would have been an interesting place to spend an evening at but alas we had kids and had to get back on the road.
We had decided to stop short of TC (as the road signs refer to it) at an old cattle station called Banka Banka which promised a slide show in the evening for entertainment. It sounded more appealing than our images of TC which we envisioned to be not much better than Hall’s Creek of past experience – fairly rough and tumble. The road was long and straight for the most part and as per usual we had to make a pit stop for the kids to unburden their bladders. While packing everyone back in the car I had a moment come upon me – no one was coming in either direction on the highway on which we could see a good 3-4 kms either direction. Feeling liberated and a bit crazed from all the driving I leapt out onto the highway and danced around freely – waving my arms like some maniacal lunatic just released from the asylum. It lasted only a moment but released the demons of driving that seem to gradually become pent up after many kms. It reminded me of the days I’d spent tree planting in my youth when the flies became too much and we would simply drop our shovel and bags full of trees and run screaming onto our block of land. It didn’t change the fly situation – only our feeling of control over it – regardless how obviously misaligned such a conjecture was.
To fuel up we pulled into Renner Springs, a small roadhouse in the middle of nowhere and were struck by the highway robbery prices of petrol. Darwin was selling your basic unleaded for a measly $1.26 per litre, here in Renner, they were charging $1.97!!! En route to Banka Banka we had noted a veritable parade of caravans trekking north. For every car or road train a good 10-20 caravans would pass – it was like there was a convention for grey nomads somewhere up north and everyone wanted to take part. We were again struck by the numbers when we pulled into Banka Banka – a small stop on the side of the highway with very few amenities and no powered sites – completely packed with caravans – we weren’t sure we were going to get a spot! The evening slide show covered the history of the cattle station and its various trials and tribulations with different owners and the local aboriginal population. One former owner took it upon herself to set up a school for the local aboriginal children and managed quite successfully to expand this venture over time. As she aged and had to move on, she attempted to have the future owners carry on with her vision but alas, her school eventually went to ruin. It seems almost tragic that such a noble and well-intentioned woman – truly a hero for the community which she managed to create and serve, and yet so under recognized in the area and Australia at large. Seems a shame that wealthy selfishly driven industrialists can so easily rise to the order of Australia whilst true heroes of the people like this landowner, flounder in anonymity. The slide show was enjoyed by all - the kids included - and afterwards we cozied into our blanketed beds to weather an even cooler night.
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