The drive through Parachilna Gorge is exactly as the Heysen paintings show, but the dull light doesn’t do it justice. We set out in misty rain but by midday the sun was where it should be. Coming out of the gorge and onto bitumen it was all blue sky.

  

Leigh Creek was the re-provision stop but T had not realized that the closure of Port Augusta’s power station also meant the closure of Leigh Creek’s brown coal. It is now a flash ghost town.

On from Leigh Creek, road straight and long. Passed through Lyndhurst, where last time we were here we scrabbled beer cartons from the pub to cover the window in the van broken by a passing mine truck.

We stopped off at a ruin of a railway fettler’s building at Farina – hard to imagine just how hard that life was, and for many it was their career.

The dirt road is giving us a foretaste of the track, but is surprisingly good. A bit unusual is that there are two sections in the 50 km or so that are sealed (17 & 8 km) and are smoother than the Hume Highway! The occasional emu strolls out as though it owns the road, requiring some driver consideration. Judging by the roadkill there are a few drivers and a few emus who haven’t reached that accommodation.

Into Maree, a much bigger community than we’d anticipated, not sure why. Jen settled us in at the Oasis Caravan Park, a bit awkwardly jutting into the roadway, but didn’t seem to bother and in no time at all we were joined by others similarly parked.

Off to the Marree pub, where the world got just a bit smaller, as the publican’s daughter, a former schoolteacher, had taught at Stromlo High School with our Jo! Bec has taken a break from teaching to discover another life. Needless to say, this was a photo opportunity.

  We booked into a braised beef and mash dinner at the caravan park, which was accompanied by Jen entertaining us with her renditions of old favourites.

And the second weird coincidence – joining us for dinner, also staying at the park, were Andrew and Irene from WCUC. He’s just taken over as Council Chair – D was delighted to be able to say he’s just handed over that role.

Just like the pub, the caravan park and connected roadhouse employ lots of backpackers. Two were at the dinner and after dinner fire – one from the UK (actually an Australian citizen as well, due to her Tassie Mum) and one from Germany. They were both loving the experience (and they talk to their mums each day). The outback is not so ‘out’ anymore, except perhaps for Aussie youngters who are probably doing something similar in the UK & Europe.

 

Day 9. Sunday 6 Aug.

At least four big freight trains plus numerous BIG trucks through the night. D counted the trains: T says her earplugs kept disruption to a minimum. So why does she complain about D’s snoring?

A long, windy (as in strong breeze – the road was pretty straight) drive to Peterborough (formerly Peterburg) for a coffee at a delightful retro café in the old Capitol picture theatre. Not only was the venue atmospheric but it was set up as a sort of museum, or perhaps more accurately a collection of diverse memorabilia, ranging from the movies to military hardware. D was taken by a Ford Prefect, which reminded him of the family car back in Blair Athol days (he later remembered that it had been a Ford Consul, not a Prefect – a slightly larger car for a family of five! It was the Consul that D helpfully refueled using the water hose; surprisingly this was something that Alec took well, and there was no punishment.

Another long stretch to Hawker, with even stronger head winds. As we travelled ABC news was advising of gale conditions in Adelaide and the southern parts of SA. It wasn’t that bad, but it was certainly unpleasant outside. Hawker is another ‘cute’ town, trying hard to attract tourists, although there weren’t many around. Visited the Jeff Morgan panorama gallery, which was excellent, reminiscent of the one in Broken Hill we’d visited several years ago. Jeff has achieved his dream purpose, painting God’s creation within a building which had also been built with the hands of God. T was taken by the reference to Psalm 65, with the desert hills clothed in green…

Dropped into the Wilpena Pound Visitors Centre, to confound the attendant behind the desk as we tried to pay for park and camping fees.

‘Where are you camping?’

‘Don’t know – somewhere north of here’

‘Dingly Dell?’

‘Where’s that?’

‘North of here’

Is there anything else?’

‘No’

‘What about these spots on the map?’

‘Yes, you can camp there’

‘Ah, good, we’ll choose one of those’

‘ok, that will be $25 total. Which one?’

‘We don’t know yet. We’re on our way to Blinman and we’ll just stop along the way’.

‘If you’re going through to Blinman, then you don’t need to pay, because you’re just passing through the park’

While this conversation was happening, T was filling out the registration form, and D handed over $25.

The conversation continued:

‘Well, we’re not sure because we thought we might go on a bit further’

‘Is this your first visit?’

‘No, we’ve been several times. Last time we camped at Parachilna Gorge’

A light bulb went off!

‘Parachilna Gorge. Yes. Stay there. Then you don’t have to pay anything.’

He then scrubbed out the registration form, handed back the $25, and smiled at a job well done, explaining that he was just acting as the agent for the National Parks service. In all that exchange he was unfailingly polite as he dealt with these obviously deranged visitors.

In the end we left without paying anything, in the understanding we’d stop at Parachilna, outside the park, as he’d recommended, so no user (as we were transiting) or camping fees.

As we passed Dingly Dell we thought we might as well check it out. A camper already there, who was travelling in from the north, informed us that he’d intended to camp at Parachilna but had changed his mind because of the trees and strong winds. Sounded sensible, so that’s where we parked too. Our fellow camper said he’d sort out the camping fee tomorrow. We’d love to be there to see that!

  

Day 10. Monday 7 August.

Our skill as drought breakers continues. A drip…drip…drip woke us both up during the night. A light but insistent derizzle had set in, and we (re)awoke in the morning to an overcast, heavy sky and the remnants of the drizzle. The decision was made to push on to Maree to start the Oodnadatta Track.

Coffee at Blinman, and the sun peeped through, but the wind was still pretty cool. As we passed through the Flinders, the conditions eased, and T took some shots of the gorge at Parachilna.

  

Posting this at Leigh Creek, where its clear and sunny. It’s unlikely we’ll have internet connection for the next few days. This is a sad, sad town: everything so closed up that we thought today must be a public holiday. But no, the explanation is that the mine has closed, and industry in Port Augusta has also closed, so there’s nothing here to warrant the shops.

 

Day 7. Continued.

Having settled in, got ourselves up to date with admin and posted to the blog, we ventured out to Perry Sandhills. They were formed similarly to the lunettes at Mungo, and are a brilliant red due to the oxidation of the sand crystals: the deeper the red, the older the sand.

  

We came across the God Tree – a eucalypt whose trunk is buried in the sand dune – estimated to be 4-5 metres deep – so that you can stand in its canopy at ground level.

Also visited the junction of the Darling and the Murray – a huge, tranquil body of water, with the 2 rivers meeting in a V formation.

Tranquil does not describe the evening! D started to cook dinner outside and a gale blew in, so that he needed three hands to hold down the umbrella, stop utensils from blowing off the bench, and turn the steaks. He’s a dexterous kind of guy. The meal was worth it.

Day 8. Saturday 5 Aug.

The weather continued to disturb overnight, as did the party-goers who arrived very late, but presumably the conditions helped to keep their visit short but noisy.

Breakfast at a café next to the caravan park called Artback. Great food, but no smashed avo (and the servings were enormous) so civilization hasn’t spread this far yet: the outback is still unspoiled.

On the road to Broken Hill, just long kilometres of low saltbush and occasional bushes and feral goats. Stopped in BH for T to get that wool needle and there we caught sight of our next rig – just right to get anyone out of trouble!

BH was as we remembered, but we passed through, wanting to get a bit further down the road.

Pulled over about 65kms into SA, beside the railway line and outside a pub called the Olary. We’ll spend the night (T reminds us that the rest stops along the Stuart Hwy would never be repeated…and here we are!!!!!!) D had a beer at the pub – a can of West End. The publican advised that there would be no meals offered tonight because he’d spent all day collecting wood for the fire and hadn’t prepared anything.

T is not going to offer him a serving of our chorizo/coriander stew. It’s now 1930 and we’ve lost count of the number of passing trucks, but there have been 3 trains. Both these big rigs remind us of the importance of the freight industry in a vast continent.

Day 4. Tuesday 1 August (Horses’ Birthday)

Perfect sunrise through the river mist.

‘Let’s do coffee at Euston and then go north to Mungo,’ said T, so that’s what we did.

The lower Murrumbidgee becomes treed again and fields of olives, almonds and vines announce the arrival in Sunraysia. At Euston, (a whistle-stop) town with just a takeaway café, huge club/resort and new colourbond-roof housing estates (but RV friendly, with a parking area set aside that we didn’t check out), we took the coffee break, then headed up the dirt road toward Mungo. A newly- established almond plantation provided the morning colour scheme…pink soil against a blue sky with row upon row of trees.

Soon it was corrugation and saltbush…the occasional sheep, a few emus and NOONE else on it! But this has to be the ideal season! – thinks T. Arrive at Mungo National Park expecting campsites to be already taken by those who get on the road super-early… NOONE!

The Visitor Centre is open but deserted, so we register, pay and head for the remote campsite Belah. We had been at Mungo some 20+ years ago and had heard that the park was now fairly controlled in order to preserve the fragile environment. What a pleasant surprise! Yes, there are now boardwalks and you can’t tramp all over the Walls of China, but this is a plus and today we had it all to ourselves.

    

Set up at Belah (all alone) and dusk descends as the varied birdlife whistles, sings, carols and caws the end of the day.

Day 5. Wednesday 2 Aug

Birdsong wakes us and with a soft morning light it’s another fine day. The Mallee Ringneck parrot, emus, Red Wattlebirds keep us amused, darting in and out of the Rosewoods.

Continuing on the Mungo Lake circuit we take in the natural environment of Belah, Rosewood, Bluebush, porcupine grass, Wilga, Leafless Cherry (parasite), emus, kangaroos ( black, grey and red) and the man-made features of a feral goat trap and Vigars Well which was full of emus as we arrived, but was vacated promptly. The well is a permanent soak and was a horse and dray watering point, just ahead of the sand dunes (which could have been coastal) with their fine white grains. This is the back (eastern side) of the Mungo lunette.

Next were the Zanci Homestead ruins, including a white cypress dugout to shelter from searing heat, Zanci Woolshed, then the Mungo Woolshed, beautifully preserved examples of drop log construction. Learning of the pastoral history of this area presents a very different perspective from our learning when we visited two decades ago. Back then, the focus was on the Indigenous features of this area, with Mungo Man and Mungo Woman, the Willandra Lakes system and the 3 Aboriginal groups who still meet here. Mungo became a sheep farm in the 1870s and wool was harvested in a harsh land which has no running water. Now under NPWS management and with World Heritage status, the story of Mungo is more comprehensive, presenting the bigger picture of the dramatic social, cultural and environmental change that came with pastoral pursuits on the back blocks acquired by European settlers between the Darling and Lachlan Rivers. The Willandra Lakes, full in the last Ice Age, human footprints from

20, 000 years ago fossilized in the claypan, Mungo Man and Mungo Woman from 40,000 plus years ago, 100 years of sheep and pastoralists, and now the National Park. The World Heritage status is now understandable.     

Tonight we are in Main Camp and there are at least 6 other camping groups. Positively crowded! And rain threatens.

Day 6. Thursday 3 Aug.

The threat materialized – rain on and off all night. The one encouraging thing is that we have maintained our record as drought busters! At about 11 am, a ranger said that 10 mm had already fallen, and a drizzle continues. Roads are all closed so we’re here for at least another night.

A slow day – drizzle on and off. D walked to the Visitors Centre to check road conditions and weather. The park was closed, according to the lone Ranger, notwithstanding all the signs said ‘Open’. The roads in and out were closed, he was told, although there were no signs indicating that. Common sense said that they shouldn’t be used: dangerous and damaging. The penalty for being on/getting stuck/damaging a closed road is c.$1800 per wheel!!!!!!!

So T spent the day productively knitting her new sweater, while D spent most of the day checking his battery gauges, as the generator gurgled away outside in its little sun shelter.

There was a group of nine campers close by, and twin sisters of about our age were avid (fanatical?) crocheters. T was able to borrow a precious sewing needle from one to complete the first stage of her project, and we were invited to share their fire that evening, rain permitting.

And the rain did permit, so we spent a very enjoyable and humorous evening with this group of friends from Bendigo, who had travelled often together. One of the group was the brother of the twins, but he had left his wife in Bendigo, after an eight week holiday, to work while he joined this trek! They were headed to Tibooburra to visit an old nursing friend of the twins, who was now the bush nurse in charge there. They were expected for a birthday dinner on Monday night…so desperate to get out of Mungo on Friday. More rain forecast.

Day 7. Friday 4 Aug.

More light rain overnight, but in just a couple of patches – our fingers were crossed! Some sunlight broke through, and the clouds scudded across quickly yo provide at least some drying. D checked the road in front of the campsite and although still a bit wet seemed suitable. The Bendigo group were on their way, as was another couple further on, so the consensus seemed to be to go. On the way out we were told that a school group that had been staying in the old shearers’ huts was intending to head back to Mildura in their bus, so it seemed that all was a go. We were planning to take the shortest possible dirt road – about 50 km towards Pooncarie on the Top Hut Road, then turn left to Wentworth once we hit the bitumen.

Well, the road was suitable, but only just! Lots of boggy sections, but not deep, but enough to occasionally give the rig a bit of sideways slide, which is disconcerting. Parts were excellent, so we made fairly good time – the 50 km took just under two hours. When we reached the bitumen we looked back to see the sign: ‘Road Closed’!

So on to Wentworth, where we are staying the night. Pajero and Kimberley caked in red mud, despite a bit of a clearing by stick en route. Rain is forecast, so perhaps that will do the job on the way to Broken Hill tomorrow.

Day 2. Sunday 30 July.

First stop was The Australian National Glass Gallery which was as spectacular as we remembered it from a visit many years, in the era of Gloria. It is small but the items are exquisite. Interesting to note this time, which we perhaps missed during that earlier visit, that glass can be so very opaque and have rich deep colours, almost pottery or wood like. Even more interesting was that when we asked at a local servo which street the gallery was in, the attendant looked puzzled….don’t know, never heard of it…we don’t have a glass gallery here…”I’ll google it”… Lo and behold! He definitely needs to get out more!

The café at the adjoining Art Gallery was closed, so into town to search for a refreshment. It looked a bit dire for a while but we eventually found an Italian-style café buzzing and the coffee – and vegetable roll – were very good indeed.

Back to the carpark, to discover that it had been taken over by old model car enthusiasts. That was fine, except that one had parked over the exit, we presume to stop people coming in without paying. He soon hurried over to clear the way, but did not otherwise acknowledge us. At 6 years old, surely the Pajero qualifies as vintage? Its owners certainly do!

On the road to Hay. Overnight again on the Murrumbidgee, this time about 3 km out of town on a very bush campsite, all our own. Lots of to-ing and fro-ing trying to get the perfect orientation and level for the van, but eventually made it. The evening was beautiful – not too cool, and the campfire provided enough warmth. Potatoes in the coals and a Porterhouse steak on the BBQ.

Day 3. Monday 31 July.

Last day of July and T’s Disabled permit runs out (but she certainly still qualifies).

A slow start, enjoying the sunshine and peace. T took a walk along the river searching for birdlife, while D lazed in bed identifying them by their calls (so he said). Magpies, Magpie Larks, Kookaburras, Noisy Miners, some sort of Bellbird, Cockatoos, Ducks, Parrots, and to top it off, a Butcherbird.

Visited the Shear Outback in Hay, noting that it had very little in the way of the end product, which surprised us. T has started her road project, knitting in a fine Aussie merino which has been spun and plied in Italy, then shipped back.

But notwithstanding, a very good history of shearers in Australia, with a somber note that they may well be overtaken by either robots or ‘chemical shearing’ being developed by the CSIRO.

The treeless plain was still a delight; , saltbush, huge sky the roadside littered with cotton remnants, irrigation systems, canals, and only one paddock of sheep!

A relatively short drive to Balranald (130 km) to camp beside – you guessed it – the Murrumbidgee. We’re in Yanga NP, at a campsite for caravans and motorhomes called Mamanga. And we’re the only ones here – perhaps we somehow missed a closed sign?

 

Departure by 1130 was pretty good. An uneventful trip down the Hume Highway, if you except the occasional driver who cut in too soon (D’s pet hate). A mandatory stop at Jugiong for coffee. This little town is buzzing: the upgraded Sir George was packed with lunchers sitting outside in the soft sunshine and the Long Track Pantry was as busy as usual. The smoked trout pate and Lumberjack cake was ample fare! A new homewares and art ‘precinct’ has opened up the hill as well, but at this satage has limited range. Over the road at the Reserve, the Polo tournament was on again, so it was packed with horse floats and camping rigs. We had thought to head out last night, so as it turned out that was probably a good decision.

T wanted to visit the Australian National Art Gallery at Wagga Wagga, but as it closed at 4 PM we opted to spend the night in the vicinity. There were a few campsites available so we chose Oura Beach Reserve on the Murrumbidgee. There were just a few other campers and it was quiet (after the fishermen and mini-bike rider had departed, that is) and pretty clean – with some sculptures. We were able to scavenge enough sticks and twigs (Theo would have been proud of us) to have a lovely fire. It was remarkably mild, and the clouds that drifted axross later in the evening didn’t bring any rain until we were well into bed – and then not much.

 

 

 

 

The forecast says it will be -5 degrees in Canberra tonight. So our departure tomorrow may not be at daybreak……..

Day 1 destination is not fixed – somewhere beyond Wagga Wagga, but short of Hay. After that, its the journey rather than the destination. Our outline plan will take us via Mildura, Burra, the Oddnadatta Track, Alice Springs, the West and East McDonnell ranges, then, at the end, a few days in Shellharbour to catch up with some of our fellow travellers from the Alaska/Canada trip last year.

This might be a more intermittent blog than North America, but perhaps with the NBN rollout we’ll have connection Australia wide? (First Dad joke of the trip)

 

Having experienced politeness of motorists in north America, who without fail, gracefully gave way to pedestrians, whether on crossings or not ……and we usually acknowledged the  patience of drivers….

……. D stopped to give way to a well- dressed woman in Canberra city this morning ( less than 24 hrs after arriving home)…..to be abused verbally, facially and with gestures to get ‘the f@$* out of her way and move on’, which he promptly and sadly did.

Ethical dilemma: if D sees her on a bus, does he offer her his seat?

PS. D thinks that ‘f@$*’ was what she was saying.

 

Day 49. Thursday 6 October.

A very special day for our family.

7 weeks ago today we left home and we’re on the flight home at midnight tomorrow. It is time to be back home with those we’ve missed (we’ll need to do some much shorter travel to catch up with some of them as soon as we can manage it).

Horseshoe Bay is a very small jumping off point for ferry services to Vancouver and Bowen Island – and not much else. A few shops, including a couple of very promising fish and chip outlets. The bus ride was much longer than we’d anticipated, and even though the driver thought he was Daniel Ricciardo, we just missed the 12.10 ferry (admittedly, we could have arisen earlier). Next ferry not until 14.35, so plenty of time to tour the town….and again…..and again.

   

Bowen Island is advertised as a place for arts and crafts. Very low key and it was quiet today, no doubt due to the drizzle and the close of the season as winter threatens. Again, the trees, the hills, little pockets of bays….beautiful.

Back on West Van in the early evening. Tried for a fish and chips meal that we’d been hanging out for at a fancy restaurant called Troll’s – great name. But a 30 minute wait put us off so headed for the ‘Best Fish and Chips in Town’ café across the road – the cod and chips was indeed great and came in record time.

The return bus ride was on the Express. The friendly driver said that the rain would set in for a week. This is really the first inconvenient rain we’ve had on the whole trip – not that it really inconvenienced us today. First stop was ours, so home to begin packing. We’ve organised for our bags to b picked up at 10 AM and delivered to the airport at 7.30 PM – hope we see them again!

Who is the special girl turning six in all these photos?