Aliens, Dinosaurs, Golden Bowerbirds but no Cowboys.

"Duz it look loik there's a ro-de-o here this woikend?" shot back the disturbingly scarlet headed hag at the Dajarra Roadhouse in reply to Sara's enquiry. We all trooped back to the car, and tried to work out our next move. The trouble was, that the plan we had made was entirely predicated on the Dajarra rodeo being on this weekend as per the two telephone conversations we had had with an unknown, but quite probably just as dangerously coiffed woman as the one who had just shooed her only potential customers for the week out of her establishment.

 

And happy to be here

Oli had survived a night in the UFO capital of Australia despite my best attempts to mimic a skinny green alien. Got the skinny bit right, the green was lacking. We pushed through some pretty boring country, stopping beside a deadend river next to a deadend town so that I could watch the Hawks smash the Pies. The barman at the Camoweal pub was good enough to switch the ABC over to the footy, but I watched it by myself out the back. We had arrived in Queensland, rugby league territory.

 

Ivy dropping

From there we pushed up into Lawn Hill having been told by countless people including mum, that it was spectacular. Well, it was, but it was overpriced too, offering less than the National Park down the road for more than twice the coin. Still, poor park management on their part i.e. reliance on the honesty of their guests, meant we stayed five nights, and only paid for three, which made the price about right in our eyes.

 

Lawn Hill was pretty in spite of its three dollar phone charging charge. I managed to get over dinging the van and destroying a rear stabiliser by driving through a dip too quickly. The kids had a ball swinging off ropes and jumping off tree branches into the water. One night they collected over 70 cane toads which we euthanized in our freezer. Needless to say, they weren’t involved in cleansing the freezer of frozen toad juices. The next night they drowned the buggers. It was here that we met Terry the baker from Cairns, and helped him out when his car battery went flat. I’m looking forward to being repaid in doughnuts. It was also here that we learnt about the rodeo in Dajarra.

 

Two unlikely miners

A fun mine tour in Mt Isa and more dinosaur fossils, before we were told we were in Dajarra a week too early. We’d started a loop into nothing, and so pushed on. We pulled up in Middleton, once a Cobb and Co. staging post, now just a pub. A 140 year old pub that is. Two sweat stained, unwashed, bed haired, toothless people wandered around the mess and the questionably heritaged staffordshire terriers that made up the entrance to their pub to greet us. No beer on tap, just cans of VB. Val cremated Sara’s fish and my t-bone, but the kids loved their pies, chips and paddlepops. We ate in what doubles as Val and husband Les’s lounge room over a dirty, fluorescent gingham tablecloth, watched the footy and learnt a lot about camels.

 

Mt Isa sunset (sorry about lack of focus)

We stopped again to learn about dinosaurs in Winton, and met Belinda and Mick. They own the house Jenny and Jim are currently renting in Fremantle. Now that’s a coincidence. A freebie up the highway proved a very popular stop with the kids as they hooned around the town’s tennis courts on a plastic billy cart. Sara and I were happy enough in the community owned Coffield pub across the road. Apparently the original hotel burned down in suspicious circumstances resulting in the locals taking over the liquor licence and setting up in the old school instead of allowing the dodgy publican back in. We met all five of the locals and said we might be back for their races.

 

Middleton Pub

Another massive drive and we were in Undarra national park, home to the world’s longest system of lava tubes. Steve was our guide for the tour and proved to be one of those blokes who has done a little of everything. This surveyor, environmental scientist, sports trainer, publican, farmer, miner, surfer, traveller was brilliant and never shut up as he showed us around. The tubes were breath taking in their cavernous beauty, and all the better because we’d never known what to expect.

 

One roadside stop later and we were in Cairns. The park brake in the Landy had failed again. It’s only dollars I know, but I’m getting very tired of saying “it’s only dollars”. Still, the car needs to be right if we are to get to the tip, so the plastic will be coming out again. Of course, parts need to be ordered in, and the Queen gets an extra birthday in her home state, bless her, so we had some time to fill in.

 

Lava tube

Luckily, Oli had some ideas on where to spot some more birds for what is becoming an impressive life list. Back up into the Atherton Tablelands we drove, Sara’s eyes firmly clenched around every corner (eyes Kevin, I said eyes). Luckily we have a frequent flier pass to Coffee Works in Mareeba which is a fantastic place with the world’s largest collection of coffee machines. That this collection is in Mareeba is not the surprising thing. The surprising thing is that it is so interesting. Well… that and the free coffee and chocolate tasting.

 

Oli and his chauffeather Sara, got up early and went out late spotting heaps of fluttering squawking things. I decided that if you can’t beat them, join them and watched my favourite birds, the Hawks get over the Crows, after beating the Magpies in preparation for the Swans next week. We hiked a bit, swam a bit, saw platypuses and plenty of birds but no tree kangaroos or cassowaries, learnt about rainforests, and then headed off back down the hill via CoffeeWorks to the coast, the FannNoonans, and the home away from home for too many Victorians, Port Douglas.

 

Curtain fig.



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It's More Than Just a Rock

Escape from Alice

 



Serpentine Gorge

The sooner someone comes up with a credible alternative to Telstra the better. After being bent over and flogged by those morons, I then had to buy a new camera lens as the old one had seized completely. Significantly poorer, we left Alice only to fill up with diesel without using our 8c off coupon. We needed to save some money somewhere, things were looking dire.

 

Jo and Pete had told us of a free camp spot on the Serpentine River they’d been to with the best fireplace setup you could imagine. We found the place, but a weedy looking gent in a blue singlet had parked his van in it. Turned out the weedy gent (Roland) was leaving on a two day hike and had no problem with sharing his spot. The kids found Summer’s rock paintings and started working on an art shop of their own. We completed our Leonard homage by cooking Jo’s world famous Japanese pancakes (no bacon) on the hotplate.  Not a bad start.

 

 

Kids rock art

Redbank Gorge

 

When we found out we were only halfway up the fourth highest mountain in the northern territory, we almost turned back. I mean fourth, why bother? But we’d told Sara and Ivy that we’d be back in six hours, so we dithered on. Stopping regularly to take in the view, and eat something. Lunch at the top, bang on schedule, was shared with a group of mates from Perth, all turning 50. One of them looked like Liam Neeson.  Liam showed Oli and Ned the bird identification app on his iPhone, then we headed back down the hill.

 

On top of Mt Sonder

Fifteen minutes later, as we came over a crest, a little pink thing followed by a sleek black thing appeared like mirages in the desert. Ivy and Sara had decided they weren’t going to just sit, chat, and drink tea. They were climbing Mt Sonder too. And could they climb. It took the boys three hours, the girls did it in two. Smashed it. As Sara walked past a school group she overheard one girl saying, “Oh my God, I was like dying, and like, this little like, four year old with like, pigtails, like totally ran past me up the mountain... “

Ned working on his circus tricks

 

Palm Valley

 

The idea was that this would be a two week trip. The only written in stone thing was that we had to have a fire for Ned’s birthday on the 24^th and that he didn’t want to drive on that day. He got half his wish granted. We had presents in the morning, followed by Nutrigrain, and Nutella on crumpets then we got into the car.

The best birthday cake ever

The Palm Valley campsite was pretty full, but we managed to grab a site next to the least popular communal camp fire. Ned had a cake Sara created out of three dozen jam and cinnamon donuts. We still had time for a hike to temporarily dampen the cumulative effects of a day of junkfood. Gnocchi with pesto for dinner followed by more donuts and soft drink. Not sure how Neddy got to sleep, but he seemed pretty happy.

 

Kings Canyon

 

Palm Valley

The 4WD trip into Palm Valley was pretty rugged, but worth it. We packed, ate more donuts, and headed off to Kings Canyon. A dusty, overpriced site awaited. After dinner, we listened to Dave from Armadale’s story. Not much that bloke hasn’t done. Currently he’s taking his precocious 6 year old on a two week trip living out the back of his carpeting truck. She and Oli played a lot of soccer.

 

Kings Canyon

We also met up with Tracey, Wilhelm and Daniel from Dandenong. Oli had met Daniel at a pancake breakfast, and subsequently lost all the apps on his iPod due to the failure of some software app scam that Daniel said would get free stuff. Now Daniel is friends with Ned. We ended up hiking around King’s Canyon with them, and I would have to say it was one of the best walks I have done ever.

 

Us and a bloddy big rock

Uluru

 

The moon sliding down the rock

It’s a bloody big rock. It is very impressive. It invites you to climb it, with a chain that goes up its most accessible face. I climbed it when I was 13, Sara did too. The local’s wishes weren’t considered then. Now they are to a point; they’d prefer you didn’t climb. We didn’t, but plenty of others did and I can’t blame them while the chain remains. It is still there only because it brings in money to the tour companies and they have strong lobbyists. Remove the chain and you remove the dilemma. Simple.

 

Instead I ran around the rock a couple of times in the morning; that was really special. We all did various hikes, and also went out to Kata Djuta where I bumped into my American surfing buddy from Margaret River! There was plenty for the kids to do; they painted and danced and learnt a lot. Calling Uluru Australia’s Mecca is wrong, however it certainly is a place of great power that demands respect. You can only understand that if you stop and give yourself time to soak the place in. We were lucky to have that time.

 

 

In the middle of Australia

Simpson Desert

 

The further we go off track, the more we’d like to do. Only a distaste for driving long distances on bumpy roads gets in our way. It is highly unlikely Sara will ever cross the Simpson. We did get close however. We stopped at Lambert’s Corner in the absolute geographical centre of Australia. We met Don and Leonie from Lake Boga via Richmond, and yes Wayne, they know Jules. From there it’s not far to Dalhousie Springs. I couldn’t tolerate the 40 degree water for more than 5 minutes, but the kids looked like albino prunes when they eventually came out.

 



We had planned to go back to Alice via Chambers Pillar, but the drive was wearing a little thin and the car’s suspension had started to play up, with one of those dreaded amber lights accompanied by a “ping” popping up too regularly. We walked through an abandoned homestead, viewed a stand of Australia’s rarest trees, made a coffee, and barrelled back to Kimmy and Hawks vs Eagles on the telly.

 

Landrover Discovery’s

 

Back to Alice and its Big 4 caravan park, home of the Sunday pancake feast. It looked like we were going to make our fourth one of these too, and if so, I was going to have a serious crack at the record of 14 in one sitting. Luckilly for the pancake makers, Neil the mechanic turned out to be honest and really good at what he does. Usually not ideal for a mechanic in a semi-remote location, but happily so for us.

 

Fancy schmancy airbag computer sensor issues sorted, we returned the very ordinary Mitsubishi Outlander, numberplate iDud, and left the Big 4 for the last time, sending the bill to our dear friends at RACV insurance. We were leaving the centre, and heading north into the sun. First stop was to be Australia’s UFO capital, Wyecliffe Wells. Beam us up Scotty!!

 

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Gold, Gold, Gold

Ned shovelling with a very large shovel!

I’ve never won a gold medal. It’s not a major disappointment in terms of life goals, but I can’t say it wouldn’t have been a nice thing to achieve at some stage. Plenty of mid pack results, and two firsts in 4 years of Little Athletics thanks only to Rohan Pike’s largesse; but never a gold medal. Who would have dreamt things were about to change?

 

We’d watched Pirates, Vikings, sailors and other strangely dressed Alice Springs types parade past us that morning in the Todd Mall. The kids had managed to avoid major injury scrambling amongst the floats and the sensibly shod grey nomads, gathering vast amounts of lollies that had been thrown about by the pirates and Vikings and sailors. Like the pied piper’s rats, they followed the trail of stale Tootsie Rolls to the dry riverbed of the Todd for the annual Henley-on-Todd regatta.

 

Bath tub race; Ivy in tub, Sara, Simone, Oli, and self running.

We got a seat on the hill in a prime position over the middle of the track and well shaded by the river gums. Jo, Pete, Summer and Ciara joined us and we watched a motley assortment of home-made “boats” straggle past. There’s no water in the Todd. The idea behind these races is that you run your boat up the river, around a bollard, and back to the start. Not too much more to it than that, and yes, it would be cruel to suggest the locals couldn’t cope with more than that.

 

Oli, Ned, Ivy and Summer  worked out pretty quickly that they were allowed to enter anything they wanted and that they still had opportunities to worsen their dental hygiene. Jo looked at the program and locked in sand shovelling as her time to shine. Ned was keen on that one too. I was interested in the race where you pretend to be a mouse in a spinning wheel. Pete was content to sit on the hill with Ciara.

 



Sled race dragging Ivy

The shovelling went off first. Sara was immediately sledged by the commentator for wearing a scarf, True, it would have been an O, H & S issue anywhere else in Australia, but we were in the Northern Territory, mate. It was far more likely to have been a fashion faux-pas. Lucky he didn’t spot the random socks. Jo worked like a dervish filling her drum, with her thighs now commanding the commentator’s attention. He must have known something because she won her heat from Sara by 3 shovelfulls and then was beaten into the final by the clock. Ned gave it a crack, but the fact that there he had clear ergonomic issues with the shovel made things a little tricky. I elected not to enter, being a little intimidated by the local tradies and their neon shirts. Shame Bill Fry wasn’t here, he would have made that misery stick sing.

 

Powering home to gold!

The main arena beckoned. We dragged Ivy up and stuck her in a bath tub. Some local nurses did a deal with us and so we swapped Ned for Simone the maternity nurse. We smashed them but still came second, just. We put Ivy on a toboggan and won our heat, but again missed the final by a couple of hundreds of a second. The day was turning into Australia’s recent Olympic campaign. Oli got a couple more seconds, and hopes were high for a medal in the 4 person kayak until Jo trod on Ned’s leg and hobbled him. The game bugger struggled through, but he was a few steps off top pace after that. Unfortunately, the crowd was getting restless and tired of excuses. They wanted winning times, not personal bests. They wanted people to win, not just try hard. They needed a hero. They needed someone to step up and take that gold medal.

 

I looked over at Pete, but he was still sitting on the hill, kind of like Ferdinand the Bull under a cork tree. It would have to be me. The one man kayak (K1) race was up next. I stepped into the not so light weight steel construction sponsored by Down Under Tours, and politely asked the big SES volunteer in front of me for directions. Then I told him to get out of my way. I don’t remember much more except for the Chariots of Fire music in my head and the roar as I crossed the line first with daylight second. Turned out the roar had nothing to do with me, there was a shovelling final going on. There was a roar a few moments later, from me at least, when it turned out that due to a lack of entrants, my K1 heat was the only K1 heat which made me K1 dry river bed world champion. Win a gold medal and a $100 drinks voucher at the dodgiest pub in town before I die, tick!

 

4 little not so scary vikings, Ned, Ivy, Summer, and Oli

As predicted, winning became the norm after that. We won five Viking helmets in a scream off and more lollies came the kids way in a river sand scramble. The day ended with a battle royale between the pirates, Vikings and sailors, at least it did once the navy boys were able to unbog their boat. Great show too with coloured sawdust bombs, water cannons, and flour bombs creating a hazy mist over the churned up river sand. The Vikings won for the second year running, but that’s no surprise, surely everybody wants to wear a hat with horns sticking out of it. I know I do, but only if I can wear my medal too.

 

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