TRAVEL GUIDE: Family Friendly Fraser

This is a story that ran in the January 2016 Issue of 4WD Touring Australia.  Not really a travel diary but covers some of the must do sites to see and things to think about when travelling to Fraser with Kids.

When deciding on a travel destination with the family there are many considerations that are not covered in the usual travel brochure or 4WD article.  Pondering a map my wife always asks the essential 4WD question -“Does it have toilets for the children?”

With that in mind Fraser Island should be on every families must do list.  Fraser has everything to offer mum or dad who love hitting the sandy tracks and open beaches, especially if you want to practice using those maxtrax.  But Fraser also has just as much excitement for the kids.

One of the most popular spots is the sparkling Lake McKenzie.  This unique lake has been perfectly designed for parents to wallow in the water while the kids spend hours in a bathtub the size of several football fields. The benefit for those with young children is that the car park is only a very short walk to the lake. But with popularity comes crowds.  If you want to have some space its worth walking a little further from the car park or arrive first thing in the morning.

There are many other lakes on the island such as Lake Wabby. However, If you decide to venture here be ready for a harder walk with children. The 2km trek from the beach is testing as it passes over Hammerstone Sandblow. During the summer the sand become scorching hot so be prepared to carry an extra load on your back through soft sand or consider coming back when they are older.

As far as popularity for families go, Eli Creek would be number one on the kids wish list.  Don’t forget to take something for them to float down the shallow creek amongst banksia and pandanus plants.  The good news for those with young children is the creek is waist deep making it a safe option for the younger ones. It is also one of the most popular places to relax with 4wd’s, sun shelters, eskies and a cacophony of colour lining the water edge.

Swimming in the ocean however is not recommended. The western side of the island is popular for fisherman, which invariably means there is the higher order predator likely to be lurking in the water. With no lifeguards and unpredictable surf the safer option is definitely any one of the 40 perched lakes for worry free parenting. Alternatively a drive north to Champagne Pools allows the kids to swim in the rock pools amongst a variety of fish caught in the receding tide.

While the western part of the Island is where many of us head, a trip to the eastern side should be on the list.  Here you can take the kids for a long walk along Kingfisher Bay without the fear of a 4WD barrelling along the sand.

For families, Kingfisher Resort is also worth considering with their pool and self-contained units making costs (although not as cheap as camping) more bearable.  But even if you are not staying at Kingfisher Resort, there is another pool that is available for day use.

While Fraser is a lot about 4WDing, getting the kids out of the car is a must. There are several easy boardwalks and tracks that allow the young ones to experience the wonders of the island up close. The island is a living textbook and following the Wanggoolba Creek board walk or gazing up at the satinay trees that disappear in to the heavens will have them transfixed.

One challenge when travelling with children is the dreaded question “daaaad, I need to go”.  The good news is that most day-use areas on Fraser Island have toilets along with basic picnic facilities. It is advisable to get a National Parks Map and be aware that the further north you go the fewer toilets there are. If you are camping along the main beach it is a good idea to bring a portable toilet.  If you are staying at one of the formal camp grounds some even have the luxury of hot showers.  Just remember to bring plenty of gold coins.  

The other advantage of staying in the designated camp ground with young ones is that some of these, such as Central Station and Dundaburra, are fenced to prevent dingoes accessing camp. Your children may not know the risks dingoes pose so it is essential that you explain the dangers.  A good option is to provide the children whistles that are hung around their neck which is great to not only scare away any threat but also a life saver if they get lost.

Speaking of dangerous creatures, sandflies can annoy the best of us. There is nothing worse than a complaining itching child. While prevention is preferred this is easier said than done especially if you do not want to put DEET into the pristine lakes. The priority is to cover up in the afternoon and evening. There are numerous remedies to deal with the itch, from mother’s wives tales to medical creams. My advice - take them all. 

As many who travel with kids know, they are guaranteed to come down with some sickness or injury.  There is no pharmacy or resident doctor on the island so it is essential that you bring along your full medicine kit.

There are a myriad of other activities do with the kids from fishing to whale watching. Maheno Wreck is well worth stoping but keep your kids close as many don’t head the slow speed limit near the wreck . Where ever you go don’t forget to ensure the kids are always wearing a seatbelt when driving.  Inland tracks get very bumpy and there are washouts and other hazards on the main beach.  

 

With all this in mind not only can the kids have a great time but parents will also be able to enjoy the fun of 4WDing rather than dealing with grouchy irritable terrors.  And they may even have a great laugh as you are being snatched out of a sand trap by a fellow traveller.   See - it has something for everyone.

DECEMBER 2015: Gold Coast and Brooms Head

With another year over it was time to take a break and head north to see the family.  While the camera ventured along there were only a few times it managed to escape out of the camera bag. Despite this I managed to click off some images.

The Gold Coast has many faces from the popularity of the waterways to the madness of main beach.

Well - may be they were not all there at the same time but it was still busy on the waterway.

Not far from the main drag is the Spit.  At the end is the 800m long sand pumping jetty popular for fishos and travelling photographers such as me.

While we had a couple of days of rain, the rest was typical Queensland sunshine.  Perfect for the beach.

We spent a day up in the hinterlands at Springbook National Park.  With the recent rains the waterfalls were pumping.  The most famous is the Natural Bridge with the waterfall entering a cave before travelling down stream.  While it is popular for the photographer it is a tricky thing to capture due to the dark areas of the cave and the bright light from the waterfall and outside.  This needed some extra work combining multiple exposures to get it right.

The rest of the Park also has some other interesting walks and waterfalls.  We only had a couple of hours but could have spent all day exploring this place.  May be next time.

 

Leaving the gold Coast we headed home with an overnight stop at Brooms Head with some great friends.  I managed to sneak of in the morning to get some coastal shots

These were taken the night before leaving.  It was blowing an absolute gale so struggled to keep the camera still in the strong winds.  

NOVEMBER 2015: Port Stephens, NSW (in the Rain)

A weekend away to the coast is meant to be full of sunshine, surfing and cold beers.  Unfortunately I seemed to choose the only weekend that contained a mixture of rain, lightening, wind and more rain.  With no chance of sunrise or star photos I had to make do with the grey overcast weather.  It could be worse.  I could have been at work!

The area of Port Stephens has some interesting jetties from the new to the ancient.

If you look closely you can see a couple of lightening strikes. 

"A pelicans bill can hold more than its belly can"

With no sunrise I had to make do with some interesting rocks overlooking Shoal Bay.

There were also some interesting rock formations on the coast which is in the Tomaree National Park.

The 4WD track in to Tomaree National Park.  Short but fun.


September 2015: Mt Buller

With the twins in the National Club Championships for gymnastics needing to be picked up in Bendigo what better excuse to pack the camper and head south.  

The trip started with a slow meander south taking the more off the path route via Kootamundra and Narrandera.  Its great getting off the motorway and following some of the smaller roads.  Unfortunately many of these are by-passed by travellers so all that remains are the closed businesses. This is a part of our country that will one day be gone with little reminder of the thriving community that once existed.

The first night we camped at Berembed Weir.  This is a nice spot by  the Murrumbidgee River.  Heading  from Junee to Narrandera you pass through some lovely little towns such as Ganmain and Matong and take a right.  This takes you to Old Narrandera Rd and not far from the intersection is a dirt track that goes for approx 12 km. You cross the weir and their is plenty of shaded spots (although the ground is a bit bumpy). While you are a long way from anything there is a clean flushing toilet at the picnic area a few hundred metres away which my daughter was thankful for.

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The great thing about travelling through this part of the country at this time of the year is the Canola Fields.  This sea of yellow with a blue sky is amazing.

From here we made our way to Deniliquin for lunch. While I didnt take any photos I will definitely return here one year for the Deni Ute Muster which I only missed by a couple of weeks.

Arriving at Bendigo it was really only a day to pick up the kids from the Gymnastics comp and head east for a few days camping. Again it looks like I will have to save Bendigo for another trip.

From Bendigo another lovely drive through the cutest of country towns with some classic buildings.  Rushworth was a definite favourite and a great spot for lunch at the local baker. Unlike me I didn't try to photograph this place, instead just soaked up the character enjoying the moment.  I did however stop for an old run down bush hut somewhere outside Euroa.  While time has got the better of this building it is a classic reminder of the past.

We made it to Mansfield for an over night stop.  Again a lovely town with an amazing backdrop. 

The next day we headed to Sheep Yard Flat. While in the peak season I hear it is a place to avoid we had most of it to ourselves at this time of the year.

We spent the day exploring some of the trails and creeks with a few short walks in between.  Unfortunately many of the tracks further up to the huts were still closed (they dont open until later in October).  As before it seems I am going to have to make another trip back here. 

Back at camp we had a good look at Fry's Hut (built in the 1930's).  Still amazes me that someone lived and prospected here at the time. While I was keen to take some night time star trails over the hut the full moon got the better of me so again - seems i need to make another trip back.

The next day we decided to get up early and head up to Mount Buller to play in the snow. As it was the very end of the ski season there was no intention to ski.......  Well thats what I thought until we got up there.

It turned out the weekend we were here was a cold snap in Eastern Australia.  This brought freezing conditions for one last blow of the snow making machines but also a flurry of natural snow as well. 

Despite the screams of pain from the bank balance we thought 'what the heck' so sold the left kidney and hired the gear for the day.  Both the kids and us had a great time.

not bad for the last weekend of the ski season.

with so many things we missed it looks like another trip is in order but not a bad way to spend a week.

AUGUST 2015: Tamworth, NSW

I had the pleasure of going to Tamworth for a few days to watch my daughter in a gymnastics competition.  So what better thing to do with my spare time than escape to the country to take some photos.  What was amazing is that I didn't even get one of the iconic Golden Guitar.  Looks like i may have to venture back for the country music festival one day. 

One iconic structure that i am always fascinated with is the windmill, an essential tool that has allowed these areas to survive.

There was no opportunity for any sunrise shots this trip, nor did I manage to get any night star trails due to the full moon.  So I had to settle on one sunset.  And it was rather a nice in the end as well.

JULY 2015: Coolah Tops National Park, NSW

This story was published in the December 2015 issue of 4WD Touring Australia

Rugged up like a polar explorer the warmth from the crackling fire only manages to travel a few feet before the cold night air sucks its energy into the darkness.  As the temperature dips below freezing you begin to realise it is warmer in your camper fridge than outside.  But with the cold also comes a camping experience that invigorates not only the body, but also the mind.

With news bulletins warning – “the most powerful cold front to cross Australia’s southeast in years will hit this weekend” we knew we were in for a chilly time camping.  And we knew it would be even colder as we were heading to a place called COOLah Tops.

Coolah Tops is located 380 km north-west of Sydney on a narrow plateau, where the Great Divide, Liverpool and Warrumbungle Ranges meet. Passing through the towns of Mudgee and Gulgong the expanse of the Liverpool Plains quickly erase the memories of the big city left behind. Tall buildings make way for a world where the planet appears to be 90% sky and 10% green rolling paddocks. And it is here where you get a true feeling of being ‘beyond the black stump’.

But more than being just a figurative term, the town of Coolah holds claim to being the home of the black stump. The local Aboriginal Gamilaraay people are rumoured to have called the area ‘Weetalibah-Wallangan’, meaning, ‘the place where the fire went out and left a burnt stump’. In 1826 Governor Darling formalised the land boundaries that passed through the centre of a property known as ‘Black Stump Run’. Today, a rest area and replica stump mark the historic location.

While claims over the black stump continue to be fiercely fought between country towns the Black Stump Inn, a 2 storey hotel built in 1928, has that country charm that pulls one in for a more peaceful cool ale.  But with the temperature in the single digits, instead we make our way to the Coolah Bakery to warm up on freshly made pies and sausage rolls. 50 metres further on we leave town with the book end Coolah Valley Hotel similarly trying to beckon us in for a beer.

40km out of Coolah, the road leaves the flat plains.  Here it becomes a dirt track winding its way up the plateau, green grasslands either side providing nourishment to both the cattle and thousands of wild goats that roam the hills.

As we climb higher and the temperature drops further, we get to a small marker that signifies Pandoras Pass.  In 1823 the botanist and explorer Allan Cunningham found this important crossing through the mountain range opening up a northern path to the Liverpool Plains. This early traveller not only helped the Liverpool Plains become one of our most valuable farmlands, but he opened up access to Coolah Tops for travellers that followed such as us.

(A few images of the car getting a taste of the fresh country air)

Leaving the pass and farmland behind we continue along the track and enter a large Eucalypt forest, its tall trees preventing the winter sun, now low in the horizon, from penetrating. The reference to the black stump is also well evident as we enter the forest. A recent fire has converted the silvertop stringy bark and forest ribbon gum trunks in to vertical liquorish coloured stripes.  Despite the fire there is still plentiful wood to ensure that a campfire tonight will keep the chills at bay. The good news is that this is one of the few National Parks that allow you to collect firewood.

There are several campsites in the park including Cox's Creek Falls and the Pines.  But we make our way further on to the Barrack's camping area and set up camp and a warm fire before the short afternoon light disappears leaving behind the glacial mountain air. 

One sign that it gets cold here is the fact that Coolah Tops is home to some majestic snow gums, the largest in the east of the park. Its also home to some very friendly wildlife with the red-necked wallabies and eastern grey kangaroos watching on with bemusements as we huddle around the fire.

The next morning we reluctantly leave the warmth of our sleeping bags and head out and explore the park. With 30km of easy dirt tracks there are plenty of options.  A short distance from the Barracks camping area we meander along a path that weaves amongst a prehistoric stand of grass trees (Xanthorrhoea glauca). With some over 300 years old, these three metre ancient giants stand like soldiers adorned with large fuzzy hats.

A short drive and another small walk takes us to Norfolk Falls.  While only a trickle due to the dry winter, the waterfall must come alive after a heavy rain, the water cascading deep in to the valley below.

Following another fire trail to Pinnacles Road Lookout we are immediately greeted with stunning views out across the plains to the Warrumbungles and Mt Kaputar.  At the eastern end Breeza Lookout offers similar impressive views perched 1200 metres above the plains.

We spend the next few days exploring the remainder of the Park including Bracken's Hut built in 1937 and the Gemini Loop Track which provides access to an old sleeper cutter's hut. These relics provide a glimpse of a previous time when the imposing forest was seen as a resource to harvest rather than protect. Luckily the National Park now conserves this unique part of country NSW. 

There is one opportunity to slip the car in to 4WD and that is Jemmy's Creek 4WD Trail.  This starts at Breeza Lookout and descends in to the valley to join up with Pembroke Road 20 km west of Merriwa.  Unfortunately for us the track was closed for maintenance but this will just give us another good reason to return here one day. 

The thought of winter camping may not be everyone’s ideal holiday. For us however, there is nothing better than escaping the pages of the city street directory into the Australian bush. And if you really want to go ‘beyond the black stump’ you could not find a better place than Coolah Tops. 

Not a bad way to spend a few days in the great ozi bush.

MAY 2015: Melbourne, VIC.

I love travelling the expanses of the outback or along the coast.  But sometimes I need a dose of big city to enliven the senses.  While I was in Melbourne for work I managed to explore the lanes and streets in an attempt to capture the essence of this place. Click on any of the images below to see them larger.

 

APRIL 2015: Corryong, NSW - The Man from Snowy River

“There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
That the colt from old Regret had got away
And had joined the wild bush horses - he was worth a thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.”

This trip saw us head south to Corryong near the Victorian, NSW border to experience the Man from Snowy River Festival. It was three days of horse riding, country music, poetry, cattle dogs, bush hats, tractors and everything else country. The below story was covered in the July 2015 Issue of 4WD touring Australia.

The wild stallions eyes bulge, desperately seeking an escape route from the chute.   The gate opens.  Dust flies as the heaving mass lurches one way then pitches the next trying to remove the whip-cracking cowboy from its back. 8 seconds does not seem long but it only takes a split second for the cowboy to be tossed into the air and come crashing to earth.

This is the scene from a great weekend away at Corryong, a small country town in the foothills of the Snowy Mountains halfway between Albury and Cooma.

Most Australian can recite the famous lines “There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around that the colt from old Regret had got away”. But not many know the story about Jack Riley who was the head stockman at Tom Groggin Station, a pastoral run of 8000 ha on the upper Murray.  He is said to have recounted the story of his pursuit of the colt that escaped which “Banjo” Paterson later penned the now famous poem “The Man from Snowy River”.

What started out as a poem, and then later a classic Australian movie, has now become an annual challenge between stockmen who compete to be crowned the best horseman of the snowies. This involves six demanding horse events that test the best of both horse and man. It culminates in the top 10 riders competing in the ‘Paterson’s Brumby Catch’ and ‘Kosciusko Stocksaddle Buckjump!’ to determine the winner.

he Man from Snowy River Festival is three days of horse and rodeo riding, poetry, art, utes and general high country life. Nights are filled with country music as a sea of Akubra’s and RM William boots dance in the dust. One of the most popular events is the re-enactment of the poem and a celebration of the life of Jack Riley with the echo’s of horses hooves filling the mountain valley.

We have stayed in some amazing camp sites over the years but this is definitely the first time I have camped on a golf course on the 13th fairway.  The township opens its doors to visitors, which includes allowing the thousands of campers who descend on the town to set up on the adjacent course. If you wish to stay further afield there are numerous great campsites that are dotted along the striking Murray River.

The Country music keeps every one going through the night.

For those that want to explore further afield, Corryong is also a great starting point to explore either the Snowy Mountains or Burrowa-Pine Mountain National Park located near by.  The Park is known for its impressive Bluff Waterfalls which cascade in to the valley as well as Pine Mountain which is one large rock said to be one and a half times as big as Uluru.  It also has a network of 4WD tracks through the park.  Alternatively, take a rod and try your luck catching one of the brown trout or elusive Murray Cod that call this part of the world home.

Many of us have Craig’s Hut, built as a set for The Man From Snowy River film, on their list of must do weekend escapes.  However if you really want a true high country experience make some time to go to the Man from Snowy River Festival at Corryong to marvel at the skills of these stockman who’s lives are so intertwined with the land. And while you are there you could even try your luck at ridding a bucking horse.

The scenery in the surrounding countryside is also magic

It was a great escape from the big smoke.  

APRIL 2015: Bilawi, NSW

What better way to spend Easter than a few days on the farm with friends enjoying a BBQ by the river.

FEBRUARY 2015: East Beach, NSW

A weekend away with great friends.


JANUARY 2015: Emerald Beach, NSW

Sometimes you need to escape the big smoke to feel the sand between the toes and allow the sea breeze to filter through the brain blowing the fog of city life away.

Below are some family photos from the trip over on Flickr


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SEPTEMBER 2014: Jervis Bay, NSW

JUNE to AUGUST 2014: To Darwin by Dirt

In 2014 I was luck enough to take some time of work and take a trip from Sydney to Darwin exploring all this great country has to offer.  The trip was covered in several issues of 4WD Touring Australia.  The photos and the stories can be found here:

To read a daily blog of the adventure go to

http://jaysea007-darwin.blogspot.com.au/

Below is a quick video of highlights from the trip

Below are some photos from the trip but to explore more please have a look at the dedicated blog


August 2014: To Darwin By Dirt - The Back of Bourke. The finale

 This story was published in the October 2015 Issue of 4WD Touring Australia. This is the seventh and last part of a 3 month journey from Sydney to Darwin and back. To read a full account of the trip and view photos and videos go to To Darwin By Dirt.

“There isn’t a journey that does not change part of you”.

This is a quote that swirls in my mind as we pack up camp with the knowledge that this journey will be shortly coming to an end. Soon I will be returning to normality. Work. Traffic.

This is to be the last leg of our journey ‘To Darwin by Dirt’ and back, this time heading from Innamincka through to Currawinya National Park, Narromine and finally Sydney. What started out as an idea, a line on a map, and lots of convincing of my wife, has ended up being a three month odyssey exploring many of the best parts of this great country.

Leaving the banks of the Cooper River it is easy to see why they call this the Channel Country. Driving along the Bulloo Developmental Road to Thargomindah the road passes across the braided river channels that weave between ancient sand dunes.  Looking out the window the dry cracked riverbeds hide the natural wonder that occurs when the flood pulses through becoming an ocean of water.

This interwoven water was also the lifeblood that allowed the pastoral dynasty S. Kidman & Co to be formed. Born in 1857, Kidman went on to amass 11 million hectares across the centre of Australia. To survive on this unpredictable land stock was moved around according to the seasons, largely following the same network of aboriginal trade routes connected to the river channels. Recently this immense rural property, Australia's biggest private landholding comprising almost 2 per cent of the continent, has been placed up for sale.  It is sad to think that a foreign owner may ultimately own a great chunk of our country.

But I should not be surprised, as the changing reality of this land is made clear as we pass the gleaming silver pipes that make up the Jackson Oil Field.  This stark metal factory is Australia's largest on-shore oilfield.  We are no longer ‘riding on the sheep’s back,’ or relying on the river channels for pastoral land, as our thirst for oil and gas takes over.

This connection between energy and the outback goes back to 1893 when it is said that Thargomindah produced Australia's first electric street lights. Thargomindah is an Aboriginal word meaning "Cloud of Dust", but as we drive down the main street there is little movement in the sleepy town to stir any.  While a drink in the Bulloo River Hotel is calling, the setting sun reminds us we need to find camp before playing dodgems with the many wildlife that appear to be attracted to the bull bar during dusk.

Looking for somewhere to pull over for the night we take a small track, then another, arriving at a rundown bore with the remnants of an old water trough providing a watering hole to the local wildlife. As the sounds Galahs skylarking in the trees fills the air, the reality that this will be the third last camp sets in.

Waking to another great outback sunrise we re-join the Dowling Track heading south towards Hungerford. Approximately 90km from Thargomindah we come across a sign welcoming people to Kilcowera Station.  It turns out this large organically run cattle property opens its doors to travellers with bush campsites or shearers quarters for those looking for a real bed.  It is a shame we missed this opportunity to meet and stay with those that truly know this land. Next time.

Continuing along the Dowling Track we eventually meet the NSW/Queensland Border where the road runs parallel to a large wire fence that was initially installed in an attempt to keep the Queenslanders from trying to enter NSW (or so I have been told).  However it was later put to better use keeping the dingoes out to protect the sheep country of the north.

The fence also has the unintended consequence of being a barrier to other animals such as emus, kangaroos and cattle.  As we make our way along the dirt track kamikaze emus who are caught between the road and fence throw themselves in front of the vehicle legs going in all directions.

Suddenly, a dark object appears from out of the mulga.  The emu in mid stride sees the 4WD and in a moment of indecision it will regret elects to try to stop and turn. As I hit the breaks the next thing I see is a cloud of feathers, and the unmistakeable thud on the front bulbar, followed by that speed hump feeling.  I knew this was not going to turn out good for one of us. Looking in the rear mirror a motionless lump sits in the middle of the road.

Luckily there is no damage to the 4WD or trailer despite the signs of impact on numerous parts. It is times like this when a good quality steel bull bar pays for itself. My only consoling thought is the circle of life will continue, where the numerous eagles and hawks just got another feed.

Having given our ‘last rites’, we continue on, arriving at the border town of Hungerford. With little more than the Royal Mail Hotel, it has not changed much since the Cobb and Co Coaches passed through here in 1873. Hungerford is best summed up by the famous Henry Lawson who penned a short story in 1896 about the town. “The country looks as though a great ash-heap had been spread out there, and mulga scrub and firewood planted--and neglected. The country looks just as bad for a hundred miles round Hungerford, and beyond that it gets worse--a blasted, barren wilderness that doesn't even howl. If it howled it would be a relief.”

Passing through the gate, and double-checking that we closed it behind us, it is not long before we leave the ‘barren wilderness’ and find a refuge in Currawinya National Park.  Currawinya is home to an enclosure that is attempting to protect the reintroduced endangered bilby.  Unfortunately a few years ago flooding damaged the fence resulting in wild cats decimating the bilby population. There is news of a new program soon to be reinstalled to protect these unique Australian icons.

But Currawinya is most significant as a Ramsar Wetland site due to its importance for migratory birds. Heading along a narrow winding 4WD track through flat mulga and saltpans, we reach Lake Numalla.  This freshwater lake is an immense brown soup that extends as far as they eye can see.  Not far from here is Lake Wyara which is saline.  While this is renowned for wading birds with a diversity rivalled only by the Kakadu wetlands, the drought conditions mean we see very little bird life.

Currawinya was once a sheep grazing property until 1991, when along with the adjacent Caiwarro, it was gazetted as a National Park. Sheep were very common in the Channel Country but soon after the turn of the twentieth century the ravages of the 1890s drought and attacks by dingoes saw cattle take over.  What remains is the old Currawinya woolshed. Standing inside, the dust flecks shimmer in the light and the sound of corrugated iron echo through the empty building.  This is in marked contrast to the noise that must have been here as hundreds of sheep would have only just been audible over the humming of the motors running the old shearing wheels.

A few hundred meters from the woolshed we set up camp on the bank of the Paroo River.  It is amazing to think that this river flows south-west before joining the Darling at Wilcannia, where we were almost three months ago.  As the last embers of the fire light up the night I have even more appreciation of Henry Lawson’s evaluation of this part of the bush - “if I ever stand by the graves of the men who first travelled through this country, when there were neither roads nor stations, nor tanks, nor bores, nor pubs,  - I'll take my hat off.”

But much like the birds that stop here temporarily as they migrate through inland Australia, we also had to continue on our migration homeward. Leaving Currawinya the dirt road is in reasonable condition allowing us to pass quickly through small towns such as Yantabulla and Fords Bridge.  Reaching Bourke there is the tell tale signs our trip is coming to an end.  Most noticeable we are finally back on to the black-top for good. With more people on the road I try the one finger wave to a passing traveller but I have obviously reached the threshold were this is no longer done.

The weather has also changed with large clouds forming in the sky and a strong cool wind blowing. We move in to low rolling hills with the surrounding vegetation turning green and crops of yellow canola lining the road. We push on to Narromine and search for our last bush camp and campfire by side of Macquarie River.

Waking to a brisk morning, I am already missing the warm weather of the north. The outside temperature reading in the car struggles to rise over 4 deg C. Eventually reaching Bathurst we are brutally reminded of winter again as we drive through the fine covering of snow over the hills. I have an extremely strong desire to turn the car around and head north.  I wonder what Cape York is like at this time of year?  But the pull of family who are waiting at home is stronger.

Weaving our way up through the Blue Mountains, the white powdery snow blankets the rolling hills. Snowflakes hang to the pine needles their crystals glistening in the sunlight.  Sheep huddle together protecting themselves from the icy breeze cutting through the air.  Eventually the lights of Sydney come in to view blurred by a stream of car head lights snaking their way home after a days work.  There is the occasional stare from a driver, looking longingly at the 4WD with tell tale signs that it has had an adventure. It won’t be long before I am following in their congested path wishing I was some place else.

As the stream of traffic rushes by a similar stream of thoughts of the last three months come flooding back.  From the remoteness of the Oodnadatta, to the awe inspiring Uluru.  The wildlife of Kakadu to the people of Arnhem Land. The 4WD tracks of Lorella Springs to the fun of Big Red.  There are far too many memories to grasp.  But it is comforting to know that the journey will never really end while these memories remain. This is the power of Touring Australia.

Pulling in to the driveway one last quote comes to mind - “The end of a journey is only a beginning to another”.


I wonder what my next journey will be? 

August 2014: To Darwin by Dirt - Birdsville and Beyond

This story was published in the August 2015 Issue of 4WD Touring Australia. This is the sixth part of a 3 month journey from Sydney to Darwin and back. To read a full account of the trip and view photos and videos go to To Darwin By Dirt.

The thousands cheer, the banners wave, The glorious sun shines down, When Burke and Wills, the gentle, brave, Set forth to seek renown.   Eliza Berry 1892

 

Why do we explore? Is it to discover a new place or to discover something new in ourselves? Is it driven by curiosity or boredom? Many of us live within our comfort zone and don’t see ourselves in the same light as great explorers such as Hillary or Mawson.  However there is an explorer in all of us, somewhere. And you don’t need to travel to the other side of the world, have expensive gear or years of training. You just need the courage to step beyond the routine. 

It is with this notion of exploration that saw us follow in the shadows of two famous explorers, Robert O’Hara Burke and William John Wills, as we made our way from Mount Isa down through Birdsville and Innaminka.  

One hundred and fifty five years ago, a party of courageous explorers (or fool-hardy depending on your view) set off on foot north in an attempt to be the first to cross the interior.  300km north of us is camp 119 where Burke and Wills left the remaining two expedition assistants Charles Grey and John King to make the last dash to reach the shores of Carpentaria.  Having survived their journey from Melbourne they eventually decided to turn around, being so tantalising close to the coast but not quite making it.  Likewise this was our turning point as we began our own journey home.

Joining the Diamantina Development Road we make the most of the narrow strip of tar quickly eating up the miles. With Bourke River, Wills Creek and King Creek to the east of us the landscape of the Channel Country slowly changes.  The road, winding its way through the red rocky outcrops of the Selwyn Ranges, makes way for straight stretches disappearing in to the mirage of water appearing to lie on the road.  The Gidgee trees slowly disappear leaving behind endless flat tussock grass and dry stones punctuated with the occasional ribbons of red dune.   Even the sky appears to change from a rich blue to a pastel bleached white as though the colour had been stripped from the landscape along with the water. We are finally returning to desert country.

Soon we pass through Dajarra, Boulia and Bedourie, three small dots on the map.  Lee Kernaghan calls these 'hat towns'. With the lyrics “there’s a pub a store and not much more, you’re living in an old hat town”, the old cowboy hats hanging in the Djarra hotel bring the song to life. 

While Birdsville is not far ahead a decision is made to experience the isolation felt by Burke and Wills.  So pulling off the dirt road we follow two barely visible wheel ruts across the flat bare earth finally reaching a disused windmill. In the flicker of the orange glow from the camp fire we spend the evening debating the myths and stories of their fateful journey and reliving some of our own.

My school boy memories of Burke and Wills was about heroism, scientific research and self sacrifice. But there is another story about an ill equipped team who failed in a land grab.  It is an Australian tradition to create legends from our rogues and failures. Ned Kelly, Gallipoli, Waltzing Matilda. Burke was considered to be impulsive and irrational, unwilling to learn from its indigenous people and had never led a team on such a journey before. However, with the passing of time this infamous flawed trek and its associated landmarks have become a place of pilgrimage to modern day explorers.

Leaving camp just as the sun begins to emerge from its slumber we soon reached camp 76 on the banks of the Diamantina River on the edge of what is now Birdsville. Birdsville typifies everything that is the outback.  Its Pub, horse race and Big Red, three icons of Australia.

While the Simpson Desert will have to wait for another trip, we make our way to the 30 metre high sand dune that rises like a cresting wave out of the desert.   When we arrive I am surprised to see no other cars attempting the climb.  Not daunted, I lower the tyre pressure, point the car at the steep track, shift the car in to 4WD and hit the throttle.

Starting back on the flat plain the car builds up speed along with the level of confidence.  Then at the base of the dune the car jumps and shudders from side to side like a bucking bull. The fight begins between the spin on the tyres and the clutches of the sand.  As the wheels spin and sand flies the battle between machine and nature is now at its peak. But this time nature wins with the car lodged at the crest like a playground sea-saw 2 wheels helplessly in the air, the others digging them selves in to the sand.

With no other car around to snatch us out, luckily I had my recovery gear sitting next to me.  So I lean over and ask him to get out of the car and start digging. But I was more prepared than that, luckily carrying the maxtrax. After a bit of sweat, interspersed amongst the laughter, we are out and down the other side. If we were doing the Simpson there was another 1112 dunes to go!  

With the adrenalin slowly disappearing it was time for a beer, and what better place to go than the Birdsville Pub. The pub has served drinks to weary travellers as far back as 1884. It is full of hats of past locals who have done their time in this harsh environment. Standing on the edge of the verandah, beer in hand, our trip may not have been as harsh as Burke and Wills but it was just as adventurous.

The town is said to have a population of 115 + or - 7000.  This is largely due to the influx of travellers for the Birsdsville Races. As we stand in the middle of the race track you can almost hear the echoes of the hooves kicking up the dust and the revellers cheering on the riders, not caring who is winning but just enjoying the moment. 

Leaving Birdsville we follow the path of cattle duffer Harry Redford who pioneered the now famous Birdsville Track. But rather than heading back to Maree, it was time to take a less travelled path following Walkers Crossing heading to Inaminka. Walkers Crossing skirts the edge of the Sturts Stony Desert and passes through the Strezeleki Desert.  This remote track crosses a candy stripe of gibbers and white and red sand dunes.  In between there are the gnarled eucalypts, acacias and haceas clinging to the sand waiting patiently for the rare rain to rejuvenate them.

Something that Burke and Wills would not have appreciated was this sandy desert was once covered by glaciers and lakes.  These have been buried for millions of years forming now valuable gas and oil fields.  Unfortunately our insatiable appetite for energy has scared the landscape with numerous restricted tracks that bulldoze their way through, with little care for what is in front of it.  These wide straight roads are in sharp contrast to our narrow crossing winding in and out of the creek and dunes, fitting in to the landscape not fighting against it.

The track crosses the explorers’ path until we eventually reach Grey’s grave. Charles Grey was one of the expeditions assistants and one of last 4 to head north. But Camp 58R was to be his last resting place on 4 April 1861.  In the comfort of our 4WD it is difficult to fully appreciate the adversity of their journey. But it is equally difficult to understand why they didn’t make better use of the traditional owners and their knowledge of survival in this barren land.

Further on we reach Will’s Grave hidden amongst the Coolabah and Bauhinia trees near the banks of the Cooper River. The lonely stone piles and pipe a monument to the fateful day in June 1861.  William John Wills, who eventually became second in command, was the one who most likely was the reason for the group getting so far. His strength of character is reflected in his last letter to his father:

"These are probably the last lines you will ever get from me.  We are on the point of starvation ... My spirits are excellent.

Finally reaching Innamincka it is time to refuel and visit the Innamincka Hotel. Starting out as a police station in 1882 the town has grown and shrunk with the passing of time.  It is now little more than a refuelling point for car and man.

Like the early explorers seeking rest at the end of a long day we leave the dust of Inamminka behind and make camp at Cullyamurra waterhole on the bank of the Cooper Creek. Not far from here is the place of Burke’s last breath at a place now fittingly called Burkes Waterhole. The creek is a meandering ribbon of life and it is difficult to align an image of the quenching waters of the Cooper with that of a dying man. The magnificent River Red Gums that line the banks of the creek are old enough to have watched Burke slowly perish.

Following Burkes death, King, the last of the fateful four stayed with aboriginal people until he was finally found by Edwin Welch.

Further along the Cooper Creek we finally reach the famous Dig Tree.  A month before they perished they arrived at camp 65 aiming to meet their support party. Unluckily they found it deserted, the ashes of the campfires still warm, and a tree with newly cut the words ­ DIG. April 21, 1861. Buried below the tree a note that their lifeline had departed 9 hours earlier leaving them to their fate in the desert.

Having reached the end of their journey, it was almost time for us to end our own. While there is so much more to the story of Burke and Wills, there is also more to our story of this trip. Cutting our way between the Strezelecki and Sturt Stony Desert, we have explored parts of this land that very few see. But being an explorer is not about visiting just a physical location on a map.  It is about exploring part of your own spirit and being courageous enough to step out of the routine. It is about getting out and exploring this great land, and may be, like the country balladeer Graham Rodgers sings, carving your own name in history.

Hey Burke and Wills will it ever end? Will the desert ever set your spirits free? Together with King and Gray, you carved your names into history.     Graham Rodger 2005

JULY 2014: The Quamby Triangle

This story was published in the November 2015 edition of 4WD Touring Australia.

When touring it is useful to have a clear plan or itinerary on where you are going and what you plan to see.  But sometimes, breaking that plan can be the best decision of all.

Take the time a mate and I were heading south from Mount Isa on the homeward leg of a trip.  The car was packed and the last thing we needed to do before leaving the Isa was to fill up with fuel. Stopping at the service station I was distracted putting air in the tyres, while it appeared my travelling companion was also distracted talking to three fine young ladies.  Later, inquiring the nature of the conversation (code for - were you chatting them up?) he replied that they had asked if we were going to Quamby?  Unfortunately he was so distracted that he forgot to ask where Quamby was and what was there.

With the wonders of technology we did a quick search on the ipad. The good news was Quamby appeared to be only 150 km from the Isa.  However the bad news - it was in the completely WRONG direction from where we were going! Searching a bit further it turned out the girls were heading to the "Quamby Rodeo" 

Decision time.  Do we stick to the plan and continue our journey south or break out of routine in search of a unique outback experience? Throwing caution to the wind we pointed the 4WD in the opposite direction and headed east.

45kms north of Cloncurry, Quamby was once a Cobb & Co staging post and stop over servicing the cattle and mining industries.  The aboriginal meaning of Quamby is to 'stop, rest a while', which is fitting, as the only building that remains is the Quamby Pub built the 1860s. Not far past the Quamby Pub we reached a large paddock with the un-mistakeable gathering of Toyota utes, large horse floats and cattle trucks.

Rodeos may at first appear to be relegated to the hard men of the outback. However these events also bring together outback families from far and wide, to meet, share stories and escape some of the stresses of living on this harsh land. The Quamby rodeo started in 1997 and is run by the local Sports Association with all profits from the day being invested back into the local community.

We spent the next two days immersed in clouds of dust watching the amazing outback riders tackle the Bronc ride, steer wrestling and barrel race.  But the pinnacle of the event is the brave (or some would say mad) cowboys that willingly hop on the back of 800 pounds of muscle with the likelihood of being thrown skyward before landing in the dirt before the 8 second bell sounds. The only thing protecting them from a hoof or bull horn ending their riding career is the bull fighters (don’t ever call them clowns) who risk their own life to allow the cowboy to ride another day.

While the events take centre stage the evening is filled with the sounds of Johnny Cash and Lee Kernaghan, dancing, drinking, stumbling and more drinking. It is a time for the dusty bush clothes to be replaced with blue jeans (absolutely compulsory), long sleeve checked shirt for the cowboys and paisley shirts and jewel bedazzled belts for the filly’s.  The one essential part of the uniform is the personalised Akubra hat which range from pristine 20 Gallon monsters to the battle scared dusty felt remains that have seen cattle dog pups born in them. Chatting to a lady next to us it must have been obvious to her that we were not wearing the correct attire.   Leaning over she quips, “If you ever want to meet a nice girl then this is the place.  Although they would not go for a city bloke like you. She will only have a cowboy.”

To me the Quamby Rodeo defines this part of the country. Resilience, mateship, community. While there are bigger events such as the Mt Isa Rodeo where over 20,000 people watch man take on beast, Quamby is devoted to a small number of outback heroes coming together to support each other.

If it was not for the three young lasses at the service station, and a willingness to throw our plans out the window, we would not have been fortunate enough to experience a truly unique part of the Australian outback soul.  This experience could not be summed up any better than a local we met on the night who said: "You wouldn't want to be anywhere else in Australia tonight.  


To see some more photos from the rodeo go to Rodeo images

July 2014: to Darwin By Dirt - The Savannah Way

This story was published in the July 2015 Issue of 4WD Touring Australia. This is the fifth part of a 3 month journey from Sydney to Darwin and back. To read a full account of the trip and view photos and videos go to To Darwin By Dirt.

The vast savannah stretched out ahead of us, more than 1.5 million square kilometres clinging to the top of Northern Australia. The mix of tussock grasses and eucalyptus woodland is the result of millenniums of seasonal rains, long dry seasons and regular fires. This landscape will be our shadow as we join the Roper Highway and make our way to Mt Isa, following the aptly named Savannah Way.

In most countries the term ‘highway’ evokes an image of 6 lanes of black tar where the speedometer can get in to triple digits. The Roper Highway however has a thin covering of asphalt little wider than the car.  But eventually even the road considers this area too remote as the black top disappears leaving a corrugated dirt road carving through the Savannah.

The dry flat landscape has an intimate familiarity to local Indigenous people.  However, to those of us that normally live in the south of the continent the repetitive grasses that pass by the window provides little stimulation to the eyes fixed on the long road ahead. With little for the mind to filter, apart from the muted green vegetation and rust red earth, the repetitiousness of the drive and the hum of the wheels produce a hypnotic slow motion journey.

Eventually this trance is broken as we reach Roper Bar to refuel.  Roper Bar also feels as though time has left it behind. With little more than a building surrounded by a wire fence it provides a range of basic goods for locals and travellers alike and is the last spot to refuel before Borroloola, 400km away.  

But the setting of the sun means that it is time to push on to Lamarieum Lagoon and our camp for the night. The Lagoon stretches to the horizon with a carpet of pink and mauve water lilies bringing Monet's painting to life. With the watchful eyes of crocodiles it is decided that a tent is not much protection between us and dinner, so we set up just out of jaws reach at the ruins of St Vidgeon Homestead.  Sitting by the glow of a camp fire under the chandeliers of a thousand stars we pondered the unimaginable time it has taken for that pin drop of light to reach us. The next morning we wake to the warmth of the golden orb as it rises over the lagoon.

Back on the road Butterfly Springs is our next welcome stop. With a paperback lined billabong wedged between low cliffs, its name becomes obvious as clouds of fluttering delicate wings fill the air in the overhangs. 

While many camp here, our campsite is the Southern Lost City further along the Savannah Way.  The Lost City rises out of the flat grasslands, the 1500 million year old sandstone pillars the last remains of an ancient sea floor.  Taking the 2.5-kilometre walk amongst the ancient columns, the time it has taken to erode these monoliths is difficult to comprehend.

Time has also forgotten to take hold of a privately owned wilderness property further along the ‘Way’. Lorella Springs, covering over 1 million acres, is a welcome place where eccentric travellers and itinerates set up camp.

It is also a place to explore the hundreds of km of 4wd tracks that fan out across the property. One such track leads us to Nannys Retreat.   Two wheel ruts wind their way for more than hour through the dry spinifex and across shallow creek crossings. Where the 4wd track finishes, a walking track begins.  Eventually we arrive at a majestic boulder strewn range with a spring fed creek that flows into a crystal clear pool.  Taking a plunge into one of the most remote waterholes leaves the mind numb.

The next morning it is time to head back out again, this time exploring a small waterway called 'crocodile spring' where the owner leaves a small boat for people to use.  Getting into the small tinnie, no bigger than a bath tub, the name ‘crocodile spring’ started to take on a more sinister meaning.  But this is soon forgotten as we paddle through the motionless water lined with tall paperbarks, their branches reaching out to meet in the middle as though they are trying to hold hands.

Despite its isolation, Lorella Springs has some of the comforts that are often missed when travelling through these inaccessible parts. With hot water from the donkey cleansing the days dust, and a cold beer from the open-air bar cleansing the thirst, it is easy to forget how fortunate we are to experience this place.  We spend the evening reflecting that it is days like today where time takes on a different meaning.  It is not about rushing to the end or focusing on what you have to do tomorrow. It is about savouring the moment as it is. 

 

Despite not wanting to leave, we continued our journey to another place where nomads and travellers set up camp for days, weeks or forever. After re-joining the Carpentaria Highway, the smell of the salt water leads us to the turn of to King Ash Bay. Perched on the edge of the McArthur River, it is a gathering point for many who have fish in their blood. With another outdoor bar and the promise of barramundi hiding in the river snags I can appreciate why this place is difficult to leave.

With no luck at fishing (I am not sure if the water was too cold or that the best spots were kept a secret), the idea of dipping the toes in the Gulf of Carpentaria was hard to resist. But such a feat turns out to be more difficult than first thought. Much of the coast is mining land including Port Bing Bong. Haulage road trains bring in iron ore where it is stockpiled forming man-made mountain ranges before being transferred into huge floating ships moored off the coast. Unfortunately the area is largely fenced with large signs warning of severe penalty for unauthorised access.  It is such a shame that parts of this great country of ours are denied access by large private corporations.

Despite this we find a small nondescript track leading off the road that weaves through the coastal mangrove and salt marsh. Following our nose, we knew that the gulf had to be close. Picking our way through the mud flats we reach the turquoise blue water with the Sir Edward Pellew Islands on the horizon. This is the last of the coast we will see until our return to Sydney.

Leaving King Ash time slowed again as the miles of corrugations took on their familiar rhythmic hum.  Eventually we reach a large rocky outcrop, with boulders made from a whipped cream, rising from the plain.  I am sure this area once hid the cattle thieves and traditional aborigines who stole from the early cattle drovers who moved herds from Queensland to the Northern Territory. It is for this reason Hells Gate got its unusual name as beyond this point the Queensland Police could not guarantee their safety. Today, it provides the opposite, an essential stop for fuel to the modern day drovers in their 4WD’s.

Not far from Hells Gate we turn off towards Lawn Hill National Park. The sameness of the last few days is replaced with a red snaking track that transitions into ruts full of bull dust. Passing a large billabong, we stop to watch 6 majestic Jabiru and a large number of pelicans before they take flight, climbing on the eddies until they are mere dots against the ocean blue sky.

Travelling through numerous paddocks the eyes of a hundred Brahmin cattle watch us through the low bushes.  Cattle have been in the Gulf since the early 1800s.  Over time these leases grew to the point that in 1976 Lawn Hill Station was 11,000 sq km, one of the largest in Queensland.  At the time this was run by the 'cattle king'  Sebastiao Maria, who arrived from Brazil in search of a new life. The good news was that Maria also surrendered part of the station for a National Park now called Boodjamulla (or Lawn Hill).

Time has worked its magic on the ancient rocks which have been gradually sculptured by prehistoric rains leaving behind rugged escarpments and gorges.  While there is a well set up camp site at Adels Grove just outside the Park, it is worth booking early and getting one of the small number of sites in the Park to allow you to experience the sun rise over this hidden landscape.

Paddling through the jade green water flanked by tall palms, the suns first glow lights up the sheer red sandstone walls either side of the gorge. The only sound is that of the morning call of the birds and the lapping of water against the canoe. Making our way the 4km up stream we reach Indari Falls created by Boodjamulla, the rainbow serpent.

As time sees the sun begin to set, the afternoon is left to take the steep climb to the Island Stack Walk.  The walk meanders through the dark red rocks, lime green spinifex and olive sticky hop bush, all three forming a tapestry of colour.

Reluctantly leaving Lawn Hill, a stop at Riversleigh World Heritage Site is a reminder of our infinitesimal time on this planet.   Walking past the pale hard limestone rocks with 15 million year old fossils of giant wombat like marsupials with stabbing teeth and the 5 metre Baru crocodile, it is amazing to think that this arid place was once a rainforest.

After more rhythmic corrugations, eventually they come to an end as we join the Barkly Highway. Time begins to quicken as we merge with the line of mining 4WDs heading to Mt Isa, their bright yellow reflective stripes and tall flag protruding from the bulbar visually overloading the senses.   With the large smokestack appearing on the horizon, its tip smouldering like a cigarette, we knew this part of the journey was soon over.

Time in seconds and minutes only exists because we have created it. It is a factor of technology not nature.  Time simply measures change and beyond that, it is non-existent. Travelling the Savannah Way we are reminded that time is dictated by the rise and setting of the brightest star rather than the watch on your wrist. As time slows you begin to notice the colours of the land. Like a Buddhist meditating, you become more aware of the spirit of the place. And in these moments of clarity you begin to see this landscape as local Indigenous people do - with more intimate familiarity – and only then do you finally understand the magic of the Savannah Way.

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