The Big Mango, Uncle Fraser arrives and Piper turns 4!

The count down and build up to Piper’s birthday has been incessant for the past few weeks with the boys eyeing virtually anything girly in a store and contemplating purchasing it for her birthday – nice brotherly love but a bit overboard! The day was finally upon us and Piper woke with a gleam in her eye, knowing her special day had arrived. As we crowded around her on mom and dad’s bed, she opened her presents and cards and was content that she’d received everything she’d hoped – it was all very fulfilling and gleeful. With the niceties out of the way, we got down to business and packed up shop to head to Airlie Beach and the imminent arrival of Uncle Fraser who was catching up with us after a few pit stops from London.
We’ve made a pact to stop at every ‘Big Thing’ that we encounter on our route around this big island and we were almost caught off guard when the Big Mango announced itself. It essentially looks like a massive mango-coloured egg which sits adjacent a tourist information centre on the side of the highway. There weren’t a tremendous amount of Mango Orchards visible from the highway – more sugar cane than anything else so we would have expected to see a giant cane moreso than a mango. It apparently is representative of a specific variety that grows in the area (Bowen Mango’s?) and we sampled some sorbet made from its fruit at the tourist info centre to calm our curiosity and growing hunger pangs. Airlie Beach eventually came up on the radar and we eventually found our caravan park which sat a good 5 kms from the central business district. Aidan and Cole put together a platter of cheese, veg and cold meats for a mid-afternoon snack and by the time it was all cleaned up, it was time to collect Uncle Fraser from the ferry terminal. Piper’s birthday and Uncle Fraser’s arrival had Aidan and Cole teetering with excitement – they knew he always came laden with gifts and this time was no exception. His bags gradually emptied and through the onslaught of show and tell we eventually pulled the crew into town for a birthday dinner at a local restaurant. Piper had requested sushi but the Sushi place looked a bit unceremonial and weak on ambiance so we found a nice sit down place where Nicole Kidman, Keith Urban and a few other celebs had been to in the past and signed some plates that they’d plastered on the wall. Despite a rather sexist, demeaning poster in the men’s toilet depicting a scantly clad woman and qualities thereof which would deem her ‘perfect’, the establishment had a lot going for it with well cooked tasty meals and delicious desserts. As I read the poster to Aidan on one of many bathroom visits with child, a fellow patron added that perfection would entail that she clean fish and fill the fuel tank of the boat motor as well – I couldn’t relate and it made me feel like we’d regressed somehow into primitive cave speak and I left rather shocked and unimpressed. Here in the country of a ‘fair go’ and ‘true blue’ and women are readily and without much thought, diminished to an objectified slave – and this in a well established classy place – unbelievable! I have sense of humour – but it just wasn’t funny.
Piper’s evening wasn’t ruined though and in her new birthday dress she enjoyed her spaghetti and meatballs without an ounce of spillage. Her evening was capped off with a serenade of ‘Happy Birthday’ complete with a slice of caramel mud chocolate cake, a single candle and one big smile! She’s a special little one!

Catch up info, Charters Towers and onto Townsville – back to the big smoke!

When I write these things I tend to get on a roll and sometimes omit certain things which I later wish I had noted. For example, as we were driving into Winton the road signs went on for a good 3 kms, one after another and right in the midst of them all was one with a bright yellow background and pinkish letters indicating there was “Free Sex” – presumably in Winton. About 5 signs later the Winton town sign came into view with the additive of “friendliest town on the Barkly” – so perhaps the previous sign wasn’t a joke! On the way out of Winton en route to Hughenden we had to drive on what appeared to be a single width highway for a good portion of the way with barely enough space for on coming traffic to get past – fortunately there wasn’t too many coming the other direction. Halfway up to Hughenden we began to see little squalls of black dots coming towards us in waves – the locusts were about. We hit a fair few with the masses getting so thick at times they came close to obscuring the sky – amazing. They weren’t small little creatures either, giving me a good 3-D experience as they hit my windshield, seemingly the size of hummingbirds. There was probably more to tell that I’ve missed but alas I can’t get everything in here.



Goodbye dinosaur trail – hello big city. A chilly morning did not deter us from shoving off at a reasonable hour – destination – Townsville! The temp held a steady 18 degrees until we seemed to scamper over some great divide and then it climbed to 24. It was about this time that we had made it to Charters Towers – a former (and current) Gold Mining town, 110 kms outside of Townsville. We decided to stop for lunch and have a look around as it was said to have some interesting old buildings. It reminded me of York (the town just east of Perth we visited a couple months ago). It hasn’t been invaded by the insidious ‘box mall’ so the main street remains vibrant and packed with small enterprises giving it a hustle bustle country flair. We hit the information / visitor centre and were nearly attacked by the info representative there – Had we started our Queensland Passport? We needed to start our Queensland Passport – we could win $1000! Right – Jen took the bait while I flittered around trying to find some info on Townsville and attempting to control the boys who were obviously a bit keen to run around and get some energy out but weren’t in the most appropriate place to do so. We found what we needed then headed down the bustling main drag to find a café for lunch. Aside from problems heating up my tasty chicken and mushroom filo wrap, the food hit the spot and set us up for the remainder of our drive to Townsville. We weren’t sure what to expect of Townsville, thinking it might be a sort of moderate-sized coastal town but nothing could have been further from the truth. It was urban sprawl with box malls seemingly everywhere and that definitive driving style one finds in congested city areas, like everyone is in a race to get to their 9 to 5 jobs and keep up the mortgage or car payments. We found our caravan park which happened to be just off the highway with a great outdoor pool set up complete with slides, a kiddie pool and the essential jumping pillow. The pool looked great but water was fairly chilled limiting the time we were able to enjoy it so we moved onto the jumping pillow and played “poison ball” – an Aussie equivalent to dodge ball – good fun which attracted a few other kids from around the park.



Being in the big smoke we decided to get some preliminary tasks done – like fixing the chips in the windshield and hitting Cash Converters to exchange Jen’s bike and our old detachable bike rack for some cold hard cash. We also found some boxes to start the packing process over the next week or so – not something we’re looking forward to – it’ll be a bit messy! We headed into the Museum of Tropical North Queensland and the Reef HQ aquarium (complete with turtle hospital) in the afternoon. The Museum was terrific with plenty of hands on kids’ things and intriguing displays for the adults. As you climb the stairs to enter the main foyer you are greeted by a life-size partial model of the HMS Pandora – the tall ship sent to collect the mutineers from the Bounty who were held up in Tahiti living a life of pleasure with their Tahitian wives and children. Only a few had stayed in Tahiti, Fletcher Christian and 8 others made their way to Pitcairn Island with their Tahitian companions and by the time the island was eventually discovered, only one remaining mutineer had survived, John Adams. The Pandora never made it back to England after collecting its prisoners as it ran aground on the Great Barrier Reef and sank in about 30 metres of water. At that time, it had been sailing for about 5 months since picking up the unfortunate prisoners in Tahiti. The prisoners were kept in what was called ‘Pandora’s Box’ – a wooden hold on the main deck which held each prisoner inside in shackles and leg irons – unbelievably harsh conditions. Although a number of lives were lost in its sinking, many did survive and eventually made their way to Timor where there was an English Colony, sailing and paddling their way in overcrowded life boats. Other exhibits included Mawson’s expedition to find the South Magnetic Pole and the trials and tribulations of others who attempted the same. Interestingly, Mawson never quite made it to the exact pole as it is constantly shifting. The magnetic pole wasn’t reached exactly until 2000! Upstairs from the main level held a kids section and some dinosaur and rainforest interactive zones. With the afternoon quickly escaping us we made our way down the street to the Reef HQ aquarium. The highlight here was the Turtle presentation which led to a visit to the turtle hospital attached to the aquarium. The aquarium runs a conservation and rehabilitation program for injured or sick turtles in conjunction with some local vets. Only one per thousand turtles survive from hatchling to adult and this statistic appears to be getting worse due to human imposed dangers such as pollution (plastic bags) and speed boats. The hospital had 4 in-patients at the time of our visit – 2 with a history of pneumonia (diagnosed by x-rays) and the other two traumatized by outboard motors. Apparently if the shell gets cracked they are lucky to survive as it essentially covers their internal organs and opens them up to infection. We learned from the other parts of the aquarium that phytoplankton actually produces 70% of the earth’s oxygen (Jen wanted me to add this as she felt it important). All in all it was quite an educational afternoon and we trekked back to camp with plans for some sustenance, another jump on the jumping pillow and finally an evening treat of Top Gear as we were adjacent the communal kitchen complete with TV. The excitement in the masses was accruing as we were on the verge of Piper’s B-day in the AM in addition to the imminent arrival of Uncle Fraser on the same day. Sleep came quick after some final pressie wrapping in anticipation of the big day!

The Dinosaur Trail, Country Towns Near Extinct and Desecrating the Temple

The towns of Winton, Hughenden and Richmond seem to eke out an existence on the back of tourism to their dinosaur shrines and what remains of a once burgeoning sheep farming industry. The Hughenden Visitor Centre doubles as a museum of dinosaur bones and history of the area. A map outlining the decline of the sheep farming industry is rather dramatic, illustrating the number of sheep stations once operating compared to today. Whereas the whole area was essentially utilized for sheep farming 100 years ago with what I’d estimate to be maybe 60 to 80 properties and millions of hectares, today only 4 or 5 are still in operation. The underpopulated and dilapidated towns seem to reflect this – the Hughenden Grande Hotel is not looking so grand these days. We’ve taken for granted the accessibility of reasonably priced fresh food on our trip and found ourselves almost barren of supplies on a Sunday in Hughenden without a supermarket open until Monday. Fortunately the bakery was open but only had white bread on offer – something I wilfully try to avoid desecrating my body temple with due to the highly processed flour and high glycaemic index akin to a sugar cube. I’ve gotten to the point now that the smell of foods such as your basic fatty, salt-enriched snag, KFC, Maccas and deep-fried chips actually make me gag a little - white bread is getting there. We were out of fruit and fresh veg as well and I could feel my body start craving these items but alas none was available in the immediate vicinity.



Having made our way through the Muttabarrasaurus exhibit and other fossil finds on display in Hughenden we headed to Richmond, some 110 kms back towards Mt Isa – the self-proclaimed capital of the dinosaur trail! Our concerns for nutritional deficiency in our diet were wiped clean as we entered town with a “FoodWorks – open 7 days“ sign beckoning us in to the main street. It was a meagrely stocked grocery store but had the essentials which would see us to the coast. The carrots looked like tubers on steroids – massively thick things but surprisingly tasty. Stocked up we ventured back down the street to the main attraction – the Kronosaurus Korner – complete with life-size Kronosaur out on the front lawn – amazing and scary! Richmond was once right in the middle of the Eromanga Sea which stretched from the Gulf of Carpentaria down to the Great Australian Bight – effectively dividing what we now call Australia, in half. As a result, it has become one of the most proliferative areas of complete and partial dinosaur finds in the world. Back in the 60’s a Kronosaur was uncovered and over the past 10 years one lucky farmer has found two near complete fossilized remains of a plesiosaur and pliosaur (marine dinosaurs) on his property. The Kronosaur is touted to be larger than the T-Rex and “would have had him for breakfast” our recorded tour guide proclaimed. It was the top of the food chain in this sea and would have feasted on whatever he/she could hunt down. The collection here is utterly amazing and kept us spell-bound as we wandered to each exhibit and learnt about the different finds and dinosaurs. Before heading back to camp we decided to have a go at fossicking for fossils at one of the designated areas the town has organized. There were literally thousands of fossilized shells and organic debris in the area and we each found a prized specimen to take back and chisel away at over the next couple of weeks. Our dinosaur trail at an end we trekked back to Hughenden and began to get organized for our next stop – Townsville.

The Birthplace of Waltzing Matilda and QANTAS, Country Music Has-been, some Bush Poetry and our Dinosaur Trek

After some administrative work (faxes/emails) and a quick sticky-beak into the Cloncurry, Royal Flying Doctor Service museum – I felt obligated to go given my profession but didn’t stay long as we needed to get back on the road – we headed out towards Winton. Winton is not only the home of Waltzing Matilda – the iconic song of white Australia, and apparently where QANTAS staged its first passenger flight (the plane only had space for one passenger at the time!) but is also the start of the Dinosaur Track – a self-driven tourist track to three towns which have had significant dinosaur finds. We fell into a bit of luck when we arrived as we managed to arbitrarily pick the caravan park with all the evening entertainment and a roast dinner to boot! It looked to be a great afternoon! We arrived at the Waltzing Matilda museum – the centrepiece of the town, at about 3:30 pm so only had about 45 mins to see what usually takes 90 minutes to complete. In retrospect – young children can probably only stand about 45 mins or less of such a place so again we inadvertently lucked out. The first thing to see in the museum is a life-size diorama of the scene for the song. A large television angles out of the billabong and a seemingly hazy, ghostly image of the swagman relates the story and a bit of the history of the song. It was all quite moving and both Jen and I were brought to tears by the end. ‘Waltzing’ is apparently a term derived from the German – ‘auf der walz’ – and in the early Australian context essentially referred to someone tramping around or traveling. ‘Matilda’ is the term which refers to the traveler’s swag bag that he carries over his shoulder and is essentially what he sleeps upon. Banjo Paterson borrowed the tune from a Scottish ballad his then fiancée was playing on the piano and fashioned the words to it. In the 1960’s (if I recall more or less correctly) a national poll had 9 out 10 Australians wishing it to be their national anthem. When an Australian first won a gold at the Olympics, it was played when they were receiving their medal. It has been recorded over 100 times in numerous versions and you could actually purchase a CD at the museum with 14 different versions - not sure how long that would last in the car stereo! The rest of the museum was essentially a conglomeration of recent artwork, a detailed history of the life and times of Banjo Paterson and Waltzing Matilda, and then room upon room of antique relics from ages bygone including an actual steam train engine and passenger car. We zipped through it all with much appreciation and headed back to the caravan park to enjoy the evening festivities. An aging country music ‘star’ was playing a host of his ‘award-winning’ songs and the kids enjoyed watching for about 5 minutes and then ventured back to the caravan to play monopoly – guess they’re not country music fans (thank god!). Piper did return and her blonde hair and cute smile negotiated her a spot on the stage playing tambourine for the last song of the day. She was pretty enthralled and received a signed poster from the country star (Graham Rodger). The roast dinner was a treat – like having a home-cooked meal back at the Mitchell dining room table and was followed by a bush poetry show. The poets were both Australian Champions in their art and captivated us with a number of yarns and poems, both humorous and tragic. The kids were invited to participate at the end and were in their element playing for the crowd. All was well until the local party-house got into full swing, complete with dup-dup music, the occasional electric guitar and loud drunk squabbling or perhaps relating a story they felt all should hear into the wee hours of the night. Needless to say, Jen and I slept rather poorly but dragged ourselves out of bed the next day for a full on adventure of the Dinosaur Track.



We had to pack up the caravan before leaving as the caravan park proprietor had agreed to allow us to leave it while we drove into Lark Quarry – home to the only evidence of a dinosaur stampede ever uncovered. The road was fairly rough in sections so we were glad we had left Gertrude back in Winton. Deep in the middle of nowhere a large eco-built shed rises from the surrounding scrub and reddish earth with a 50 metre walkway leading to the front door. The shed was built to protect the fossilized stampede which has been revealed under the limestone by the removal of some 60 tonnes of rock and dirt by hand. An opal fossicker was picking around the area in the early 60’s and came across a few small fossilized footprints he felt were simply from a small bird. He eventually showed a colleague of his and eventually got around to sending a sample to Queensland University. It resulted in a full on dig of the area and discovery of over 3000 other prints and a story written in the ancient clay. The prints suggest that a mass of two different types of bird-like dinosaurs – one the size of a rooster and the other, an emu, were drinking at an inland body of water which existed in the area at the time. As they were drinking a large carnivorous therapod (T-Rex) happened upon them and his/her sudden appearance led to a mad scrambling of dinosaurs out of the area. The large prints stop near to where the edge of the water was posited to exist and the palaentologists theorize he/she must have caught some tucker in the process. It was a phenomenal little window into ancient times and was well worth the 110 kms into the scrub. After collecting Gertrude and finding your typical grease-filled, crappy-food country-town café and feeding the troupes something akin to a chicken burger – we headed towards Longreach to the Age of Dinosaurs laboratory. It sits atop of an outcrop of rock on a property that was donated by the landowner upon which a massive find of dinosaur bones have been uncovered. The bones were discovered in 1998 simply by happen-stance while the farmer was mustering sheep. The bones were actually visible on the surface. Since then a shed has been built to house the bones and various volunteers and paid workers work on chipping rock from the bones and piecing together the creatures. Interestingly, the project is not affiliated with any university and operates predominantly on volunteer workers who join the crew for the digs and in carefully unmasking the bones from their rocky coverings. As per usual we’d arrived late and joined the small group for ‘the meat’ of the tour – seeing the volunteer palaeontology-wannabes strip away the bones and the replica models of the beasts that have been thus uncovered. It’s almost as if they’ve uncovered something akin to an elephant’s graveyard, the bones seem so thick and ever present. Thus far they have a good 5 years of work stacked in their storehouse waiting to be cleaned. They have discovered at least two new species of Sauropod (like Apatosaurus, Brachiosaurus) and a large raptor carnivore – very scary looking. Ironically, they’ve named one of the sauropods, Wade! It was fascinating and the kids were rapt. One year we hope to return to join them in a dig but we’ll see how things go. Finally, we clamboured on-board Bessie to head to Hughenden some 214 kms north of Winton and continue our dinosaur quest. All was well until the rather vocal caravan park attendant decided I needed her assistance parking the van. This has occurred three times in our sojourn and each time it has driven me secretly crazy! I think they assume that due to perhaps my youth, collection of bikes on top or the Canadian sticker on the back that I am incapable of backing up the caravan into a spot. In my typical rebellious-style, I tuned my loud-mouthed attendant out and essentially got down to parking the van as per usual. It led to her essentially yelling at me from only metres away – I’m sure the whole caravan park stuck their heads out of their vans wondering what was going on. If I wasn’t a peaceful sort, she would have copped a few choice words if not more. I managed to park it in the end and right where it needed to be.

Camooweal, Mt Isa and Cloncurry - Enclave of John Flynn and his RFDS

We’ve hit the prairies! The Nullarbor has nothing on this country – at least there were trees and the occasional elaborately decorated one – here all we get are rolling plains and far too many dead roos being scavenged by the occasional massively winged bird of prey. The road is so flat and scenery unchanging it’s like you’re on a gerbil treadmill never quite seeming to make it anywhere but somehow magically do. As the driver it becomes mind numbing at times – remote, idyll distractions are coveted but often discouraged by my navigator as they are deemed illegal by her driving law-book and often result in severe threats and reverberations. We hit a milestone as we crossed the border of NT into QLD as now we had officially graced each state and one of the territories with the gradually thinning tires of our faithful stead and her homely companion. We were onto the final leg of our arduous long journey. With mixed emotion we sped onto Camooweal – a smallish enclave without much zeal or memorable adherent other than the fact that the local store had adopted a ‘green light’ system of identifying healthy foods. Despite the fact that there weren’t too many items on offer, a number of green signs were posted over foods deemed of sufficient nutritional value to warrant highlighting. Not sure whether it will lead to improved selection and buying practices but I suppose any attempt to curb sustenance from junk foods is worth the effort.


Without much ado, we packed up and were off to Mt Isa in the morning – probably the largest town in the area, well known for its mining and fossils. The massive smelter could be seen a few kilometres from town and no matter how you slice it is truly an eye-sore. We headed into the information centre which just so happened to house the Riverleigh Fossil Museum and laboratory. Not far from Mt Isa lies one of the most fossil-dense limestone deposits in the world housing millions of years of natural history. From massive marsupial bear-like creatures to carnivorous kangaroos and distant croc relatives, the fossilized information is overwhelming. They run a session with the in-house palaeontologist twice daily so we signed up for the arvo session. In the meantime we ventured afield to find the largest kids park in Queensland (if not Australia !!!) It was opened in 2009 so was practically brand new and was phenomenal as kid’s parks go. There were essentially 3 main areas of jungle gym apparatus, tricked up cycling paths complete with jumps, ramps and bumps and two flying foxes. The kids had a ball trying everything and were difficult to tear away for the palaeontology session back at the info centre. We did make it back in the nick of time though and were rapt by the discussion and info provided regarding the nature of the fossils in the area, how they are processed and how the palaeontologist manages to fit these sometimes tiny little puzzles together. Having had our fill of fossils for the day we finished with a short sojourn to Cloncurry – home to the original benefactor of the Royal Flying Doctor Service, the Reverend – John Flynn. Whilst in Mt Isa we picked up the latest Top Gear magazine which came with a free DVD so we concluded the evening with a spot of British humour and automotive insight. We rarely get to watch much TV anymore so it was a treat to have a short spell of it over a bag of oranges and mandarins – nothing like a touch of Vitamin C to end the day!

 
 

Tennant Creek, The Devil’s Marbles and Battery Hill

It was cold as buggery when we woke and early to boot so instead of rugging up and trying to cope with numb fingers and toes while sculling some breaky we decided to pack up quick and head into Tennant Creek for some morning sustenance. The Aboriginal Arts and Culture Centre had advertised in the tourist brochures that they had a café and with any luck it was hopefully going to be open and have a proper coffee machine. Prior to getting there though we thought we’d fuel up so I pulled into the local Mobil which seemed to be having a bit of a run when I arrived. The poor cashier in her controlled haste managed to plug in $553.86 rather than $53.86 on my AMEX and didn’t know how to remedy the situation. Needless to say, Jen popped her head in about 20 minutes later to see what was going on and I was waiting for the head honcho to show up and fix the matter. It eventually got sorted and I’m hoping I still got to keep the QANTAS miles despite the refund (I know – unlikely). Anyways – we made it to the café and were the only ones there so didn’t have to feel too self-conscious with our rather overzealous children. The lattes were so good we had to have two each! The Arts and Cultural centre was great on the latter and rather poor on the former. The artwork looked as though someone had provided a class of year threes with some paints and told them to have at a canvas – it was seriously that bad (no offence to year threes!) We feel as though we’ve become near experts in determining good Aboriginal art from bad after visiting so many galleries and shops over our trip – you really can tell which is quality and which is crap – fair dinkum! (Oh how Aussie I am). The cultural side was actually quite intriguing and filled in some of the details we didn’t know about the “Stolen Generations”. From 1910 to 1970 the Australian Government essentially removed or ‘stole’ 45,000-55,000 kids from aboriginal families and put them in state institutions or under foster care with the misaligned thought that this would ultimately lead to the improvement of the Aboriginals as a whole – bizarre thinking at best! The authorities would visit aboriginal communities and tell the families they were taking their kids on a government sponsored picnic and the families would never see their kids again – it was incredibly cruel and short sighted. As a result of this failed social experiment, whole families and communities essentially self-destructed and the repercussions will be felt for decades to come as communities re-structure and family units reform out of a mess of alcoholism, non-communicable disease burden, and psychiatric distress.
We had decided to camp the night in TC as the Outback Caravan Park hosted a fellow by the name of Jimmy Hooker every night who was supposed to provide some yarns, bush poetry and talk to us about some bush tucker etc. Sounded good so we booked in, dropped the caravan off and headed south to Karlu Karlu – the Devil’s Marbles. Freed up from the load of the van we could travel at NT speed limits – 130 km/h! We didn’t quite get going that fast but it was tempting. We made it to the Marbles fairly quick and were immediately entranced by their incredible shapes and seemingly impossible balancing acts. Some were perfect spheres which appeared almost glued to the smooth rock underneath by mud and other rocks no bigger than a cubic metre. Further into the field of boulders some pill-shaped boulders had cracked as if precisely sawn or chiseled by a gigantic tool. You couldn’t help but stand gape-mouthed at some of the positions of the rocks – truly amazing. Having had our fill of the place we ventured back to TC to the information centre which just so happened to be located at the old Battery Hill Mines – now a tourist stop complete with guided tour of the old ‘practice’ mine (where they taught novice miners how to blow things up). They were just starting a tour when we waltzed through the door and the kids were keen so we headed on in – hard hats and all. It was actually quite interesting and we were shown some of the machinery that used to be employed in extracting the precious minerals (primarily gold or copper) from the rock. I still find it hard to come to terms with mining although I knowingly enjoy the fruits of mining endeavours in my everyday life. It just seems like such a greedy – self-fulfilling enterprise with short term gain for potential long term catastrophe – personally and environmentally.
Our field trip complete we made our way back to the caravan park and got to work on dinner. With heavy darkness shrouding the camp and our bellies full we found the campfire and ‘Jimmy’ or ‘JH’ as his friends call him, feeding the fire, dolling out bush ‘lemongrass’ tea and keeping an eye on some damper in one of the fire pits. I get the impression he’s a bit of a fixture here in Tennant Creek having moved here on a whim back in the late 60’s before it was much of a town at all. He’s a bit of a lucky lark as he is admittedly illiterate and from the sounds of it has an issue with the grog from time to time but has managed to have someone transcribe his poems and yarns into a small book which he sells at his shows and has also had an article written about him in ‘That’s Life’ and ‘Take 5’ – those trashy women’s magazines so often found on the nurses desk at the hospital. The article was essentially a sensationalized account of him being ‘attacked’ by an 18 inch freshwater crocodile one evening whilst walking home from one of his shows. He felt a nip at his ankles and thought perhaps it was a monitor lizard so strode home to get a boomerang and give it what for. When he returned he heard it bark and realized it was actually a croc so ran home and Steve Irwin-style, threw a blanket over the juvenile bub and carted it home to his bathtub. 5 maybe 6 or more beers later he stumbled into bed and was awoken early by some Aboriginal girl he knew who came knocking at his door having just been released from prison. He let her in and he went back to bed. She naturally found the croc in the bathroom and eventually they managed to get a park ranger out to manage the situation. The ranger wasn’t all together croc savvy either though and in trying to put a noose over the nose to contain the bite seemed to be making the croc more and more agitated so Jimmy simply picked up a towel, covered the croc up and carried it to the waiting cage. Jimmy was a bit miffed though as he never managed to get a photo with his attacker and had to borrow some pet crocs for the photo ops needed for the magazine. They also covered the event on the news and had a fake croc on a string to try to demonstrate the so-called attack – apparently a bit of a sham in the end. All in all it was an interesting couple of hours and the damper was actually quite good. We again cozied into our beds and prepared ourselves for the last leg of the journey – onward to Queensland!

Mataranka, Stir Crazy on the Stuart and Banka Banka

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.