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The Savannah Way (part) Katherine to Mt Isa
Saturday
As it turned out we didn’t get to the show’
Lying in bed contemplating the meaning of life, working out where do all the unanswered UHF radio calls go and it that a planet or a communications satellite in the west sky at night when at 2.19am there was an almighty crash from the next door unit followed by the screams of a young child as they fell out of (hopefully the bottom) bunk. There were the footsteps of the mother and then as she tried to pacify the child and eventually silence. The day could only get better.
We toddled down to the local Toyota dealer and explained again, this time, to the service manager our problem. He scratched his head when we told him the other stories. We turned the wheels, or at least one of them, to straight ahead, looked carefully at them as we had done before and the tiller was still not horizontal. He then announced we needed a wheel alignment to which we agreed. The next problem was he could not do it until next Friday (this was Saturday morning) and Fred up the road’s aligner was broken. We thanked the service manager and rang Toyota in Mt Isa. They could book us in but they didn’t do alignments so ring Goodyear. We did and finally booked the car in to 3pm next Tuesday. The moral of the story is don’t count on any repairs being done quickly out here as the big towns are very busy.
We fuelled up, went to McCafe, called into the Information Centre where the flood mark was about 600mm up the wall and this was the second story! We headed down to Mataranka. On the way we worked out there is not a Prado left in the southern states as they are all up here. If you stood on the road outside Katherine you would see every model of every caravan ever sold in Australia go past. You would also see every 4WD model ever sold. The number was staggering. At Mataranka we called into Bitter Springs, just to the north of Mataranka and about 5km out. These were an oasis with warm, clear water with a slight bluish tinge flowing at some incredible rate per day.
Just below Mataranka we turned off onto the Savannah Way and passed an enormous pawpaw plantation. We have travelled parts of this road before but were not prepared for what lay ahead. Down to Roper Bar it was tar for all but the last 40km. We called into Roper Bar shop, which is open week days and shortened hours on Saturdays and Sundays. Let the tyres down to 26psi and headed for Borroloola. There is some debate about the actual sequence of the following but don’t let detail spoil a story. We were chuffing along at about 80kph and up ahead was a 100 Series pulled off to the side of the road I was looking at it and almost ran over a guy sitting in a pool a water which encroached onto the road alignment. This was OK except at the same time his missus walked out from behind the cruiser in a bathing costume. We shook our heads and continued. At a place called Tomato Island we came upon a virtual city of caravans. We could not believe there were so many out there. The GPS started to show water to our left which was the Roper River. Curiosity got the better of us and we finally drove into one of the many side roads to get to the river. Here we found a couple who usually stay at this spot for seven weeks set up in their piece of heaven. They had solar panels and a battery operated pump from the river (which was a little brackish) and a tinny tied up down the front. They used the tinny to go fishing and get supplies at Nkuttji just up the river. They also had 3G and internet. What else would you need? Oh, yes. There was a crocodile about every ¾ of a mile in the river. That took the edge off things. They also confirmed the hole in the road is used in the morning for drinking water, middle of the day for bathing and late in the afternoon for washing. I was completely sober when all of this happened!
No where in the brochures about the Savannah Way does it mention anything about fishing and the people up here are absolutely passionate about it. They also don’t mention the road is pretty crappy for a main tourist road.
We called into the ruins of St Vingus and drove down to a beautiful lagoon with masses of water lily. It was a fabulous sight.
We continued on towards Borroloola or Cape Crawford, it didn’t matter. We crossed a couple of beautiful rivers all with crocodile warning signs. When we arrived at the Cox River we drove through and then decided to come back to Limmen Bight Fishing Camp some 21km in off the road towards the coast. We now have ourselves attached to a powered site with a donkey shower and we haven’t found the toilets yet. Patsy, the lady who runs the place was helpful and genuine. And all this for $20. It probably doesn’t have any star ratings for accommodation but the location is “eat your heart out you poor suckers stuck at home” particularly when I can sit here with the computer and look over to the river. It is a tough life but I guess some one has to do it.
Sunday
We went to sleep last night with the moon translucent through the tent walls and the night birds calling. We woke this morning to the day birds calling and a wonderful light mist covering the camp and river. Other than the generator going up at the homestead there no other human noise. Heaven?
We took a photo of a Great Bower bird’s bower. There nothing blue around it so maybe it had moved on, or maybe they don’t collect blue things. I’ll have to check that one out.
We broke camp and headed out turning the “Road Closed” sign around for Patsy so people couldn’t see it and think the camp was closed. Just after we crossed the Limmen River we came across our first water buffalo. It didn’t hang around for long and took off for better protection. Further along the track we came to Nathan airfield. Apparently the mail plane flies in and picks up and drops off the mail. The mailbox was a large red water buffalo made from steel. It looked pretty impressive.
We came across the turn off to the South Lost City and thought we had better have a look. They were in about 4km in a nice camping area with toilets, barbeques and tables. The rock formation is similar to a mini-bungle bungles and is quite impressive. We met an Englishman there who was travelling around by himself in a Hilux camper. We explained a lot of the sights around FNQ and the various trips. We wondered if he will visit them.
We had lunch by a beautiful little creek before the first intersection of the road to Borroloola and Cape Crawford. Up to this point the road had been pretty indifferent although at the southern end it does say “4WD ONLY” it is a worry that it does not have a similar sign at the Roper Bar end. None of the brochures we have found indicate the little picnic spots or give any publicity to the fishing which is pretty strange. The road to Borroloola is not part of the Savannah Way but was in great condition to where it joins up with the tar road from Cape Crawford to Borroloola. At Borroloola we picked phone service and made a few calls back home and answered some text messages. Apparently no one is missing us and we are not needed by anyone so we may as well stay out here for a bit longer.
At Borroloola they are building a new bridge to replace the low level crossing. It is about the same size as the Sydney harbour bridge and should never flood. The road from Borroloola was nothing like it was four years ago when we were here. It is very similar to a race track now. Or it is if you exclude the river crossings and the abysmal sections when you cross into Queensland.
We did our thing at the Robinson River and survived the crossing this time. We had been warned about the Calvert River and after taking some photographs cast off from the northern jetty towards the south. The bow wave was halfway up the bonnet, you could feel the tyres getting a grip on the stones and the Cook is calling out that the water was halfway up the doors and to put my window up. “Put the window up,” I was too busy at the helm. Thanks to the snorkel we made it the berth on the other side and clambered out as if nothing unusual had happened.
During the channel crossing the ambient temperature went from 30 degrees down to 19. We watched as it slowly climbed back to 29 degrees. An interesting observation was that the engine temperature also went up a little and then slowly fell back to normal.
On the Queensland side the road is really bad in some sections and in many sections was the slowest part of the trip from Katherine. Wollogorang roadhouse is closed but Hell’s Gate is operating although they do not accept plastic. They certainly grow wonderful colourful bougainvilleas out here. There is a shop, unleaded and diesel at $1.98, camping and some motel type units. The generator goes off at about 10pm and then you are on solar. Hells Gate is 676 square mile or about 433,000 acres which is a bit larger than your suburban block.
There were very few camping spots from where the back road jointed the Savannah Way, 26km the east of Borroloola, to Hells Gate. There were a couple around the Robinson River, at least one near the Calvert River and one or two off the road at the other rivers. Not very many in total.
We are about as far west of EST as you can get so the sun rose at 7.30 but the dawn light is a lovely soft yellowish light. Talking about yellowish. The Prado wheels have taken on a soft golden colour which looks pretty cool. The most o the caked on mud from the Canning has gone, washed off in the river crossings.
Monday
For the first time ever we have not gone back to work on this day. It feels good!
The road from Hells Gate (they spell it either way, Hell’s Gate) was a vast improvement over the rough stuff to the west. It was tar for much of the way and we were surprised about the amount of traffic. We passed two roadhouses, one at Doomadgee and the other at a place not on the map, Tranne, which according to GeoScience is abandoned, but it did look like it was. We stopped to take a photograph of a female (she has the yellow eye) Long Necked Stalk or Jabaroo just off the road from Hells gate.
There were a lot of road works taking place so soon you will able to go all over Australia on a skate board. If you want to see the rough stuff you had better go soon! After travelling several thousand kilometres on unsealed roads it was a bloody stretch of 20 metres which had been resealed and a Nissan ute which didn’t slow down which put the chip in the window in front of Carol. I was thinking about contacting the Novus people in Mt Isa but after a couple of bumps it had grown to about 450mm so it looks like a new screen when I get back home.
We found a terrific little lunch or camping site on Beames Brook just 23km south of the turn off to Lawn Hill from the Savannah Way. It is not marked on the maps but it does have a graded loop track into it. The location is lat 18 03.7 S long 139 15.874 E and the height above sea level was only 19m in the car, so it is all flat around here.
We booked into the Gregory Downs pub/caravan park at $7.50 per head. It is very pleasant and clean. There is a free site up at the river but the locals are not happy about people camping there as they say, “the campers pee in out drinking water.” My guess is they are upset because the freebees camp by the river and come and use the toilets up at the pub and are too tight to part with some money.
This post was typed while sitting on the edge of the Gregory River at Gregory Downs. The reason I mentioned that is I don’t want you to feel sorry for me slaving away over a hot keyboard. Or maybe it was just to make you jealous.
Talking about jealous, a light beer was $4 while a heavy is $5, I guess it makes giving change easier. Not only do they have beer here, at Gregory Downs, but they also have hot chips. To-night I going to eat out! (Probably outside the tent)
Tuesday
Didn’t bother about the chips but had one of Carol’s muffins and a coffee instead.
At 6.15am the grader engine started so I guess the rest of the camp was awake as well by the time he was just up the road and the reversing “beepers” were ringing out across the plain. The caravan park is really pleasant with good showers, toilets and a very friendly host.
As the dawn broke and the light streamed across the grass between the trees, and the grader was off somewhere making more noise, I took a wander over to the nearby cemetery. It has a nice fairly new picket fence around it and eight marked graves ranging in age from over 100 years to fairly recent. In the simplicity of a harsh outback life is one which deserves a mention. His final resting place is marked by a steel picket post with a length of wire holding a small rectangular piece of metal with “Tom Kemp” punched into it with probably a centre punch. There is nothing else. Makes you wonder what Tom Kemp’s life was like out here. There is also the headstone of a surveyor killed in a nearby helicopter crash in 2006. The three unopened cans of beer are still on the headstone.
The trip into Mount Isa was uneventful with a slow climb into the highlands of the Paroo Range and once again the rugged red hills with the little green tufts of grass appeared. We took the car to the Goodyear people who did a wheel alignment and the car feels a lot better although not perfect. I rang Glenn back at home, the car’s personal mechanic, and had a yarn about the trip and the goings on and booked it in for a service. After ringing the supplier of the chip and finding they would be on the road next week I rang their recommended dealer at, of all places Yamba and they have a dyno which should solve one way the tuning! One should always ring Yamba from Mount Isa to get their car tuned. I have done sillier things but I can’t remember when.
Mount Isa was its normal busy self so we joined in an stimulated the local economy by wasting money on food but we did get a coffee and new supply of long sleeved tee shirts.
After listening to the left wing ABC I bought a copy of the right wing Australian to balance things out and then decided we should stay out here until after the 28th August and hopefully the election would go away. We live in hope.
Saturday
As it turned out we didn’t get to the show’
Lying in bed contemplating the meaning of life, working out where do all the unanswered UHF radio calls go and it that a planet or a communications satellite in the west sky at night when at 2.19am there was an almighty crash from the next door unit followed by the screams of a young child as they fell out of (hopefully the bottom) bunk. There were the footsteps of the mother and then as she tried to pacify the child and eventually silence. The day could only get better.
We toddled down to the local Toyota dealer and explained again, this time, to the service manager our problem. He scratched his head when we told him the other stories. We turned the wheels, or at least one of them, to straight ahead, looked carefully at them as we had done before and the tiller was still not horizontal. He then announced we needed a wheel alignment to which we agreed. The next problem was he could not do it until next Friday (this was Saturday morning) and Fred up the road’s aligner was broken. We thanked the service manager and rang Toyota in Mt Isa. They could book us in but they didn’t do alignments so ring Goodyear. We did and finally booked the car in to 3pm next Tuesday. The moral of the story is don’t count on any repairs being done quickly out here as the big towns are very busy.
We fuelled up, went to McCafe, called into the Information Centre where the flood mark was about 600mm up the wall and this was the second story! We headed down to Mataranka. On the way we worked out there is not a Prado left in the southern states as they are all up here. If you stood on the road outside Katherine you would see every model of every caravan ever sold in Australia go past. You would also see every 4WD model ever sold. The number was staggering. At Mataranka we called into Bitter Springs, just to the north of Mataranka and about 5km out. These were an oasis with warm, clear water with a slight bluish tinge flowing at some incredible rate per day.
Just below Mataranka we turned off onto the Savannah Way and passed an enormous pawpaw plantation. We have travelled parts of this road before but were not prepared for what lay ahead. Down to Roper Bar it was tar for all but the last 40km. We called into Roper Bar shop, which is open week days and shortened hours on Saturdays and Sundays. Let the tyres down to 26psi and headed for Borroloola. There is some debate about the actual sequence of the following but don’t let detail spoil a story. We were chuffing along at about 80kph and up ahead was a 100 Series pulled off to the side of the road I was looking at it and almost ran over a guy sitting in a pool a water which encroached onto the road alignment. This was OK except at the same time his missus walked out from behind the cruiser in a bathing costume. We shook our heads and continued. At a place called Tomato Island we came upon a virtual city of caravans. We could not believe there were so many out there. The GPS started to show water to our left which was the Roper River. Curiosity got the better of us and we finally drove into one of the many side roads to get to the river. Here we found a couple who usually stay at this spot for seven weeks set up in their piece of heaven. They had solar panels and a battery operated pump from the river (which was a little brackish) and a tinny tied up down the front. They used the tinny to go fishing and get supplies at Nkuttji just up the river. They also had 3G and internet. What else would you need? Oh, yes. There was a crocodile about every ¾ of a mile in the river. That took the edge off things. They also confirmed the hole in the road is used in the morning for drinking water, middle of the day for bathing and late in the afternoon for washing. I was completely sober when all of this happened!
No where in the brochures about the Savannah Way does it mention anything about fishing and the people up here are absolutely passionate about it. They also don’t mention the road is pretty crappy for a main tourist road.
We called into the ruins of St Vingus and drove down to a beautiful lagoon with masses of water lily. It was a fabulous sight.
We continued on towards Borroloola or Cape Crawford, it didn’t matter. We crossed a couple of beautiful rivers all with crocodile warning signs. When we arrived at the Cox River we drove through and then decided to come back to Limmen Bight Fishing Camp some 21km in off the road towards the coast. We now have ourselves attached to a powered site with a donkey shower and we haven’t found the toilets yet. Patsy, the lady who runs the place was helpful and genuine. And all this for $20. It probably doesn’t have any star ratings for accommodation but the location is “eat your heart out you poor suckers stuck at home” particularly when I can sit here with the computer and look over to the river. It is a tough life but I guess some one has to do it.
Sunday
We went to sleep last night with the moon translucent through the tent walls and the night birds calling. We woke this morning to the day birds calling and a wonderful light mist covering the camp and river. Other than the generator going up at the homestead there no other human noise. Heaven?
We took a photo of a Great Bower bird’s bower. There nothing blue around it so maybe it had moved on, or maybe they don’t collect blue things. I’ll have to check that one out.
We broke camp and headed out turning the “Road Closed” sign around for Patsy so people couldn’t see it and think the camp was closed. Just after we crossed the Limmen River we came across our first water buffalo. It didn’t hang around for long and took off for better protection. Further along the track we came to Nathan airfield. Apparently the mail plane flies in and picks up and drops off the mail. The mailbox was a large red water buffalo made from steel. It looked pretty impressive.
We came across the turn off to the South Lost City and thought we had better have a look. They were in about 4km in a nice camping area with toilets, barbeques and tables. The rock formation is similar to a mini-bungle bungles and is quite impressive. We met an Englishman there who was travelling around by himself in a Hilux camper. We explained a lot of the sights around FNQ and the various trips. We wondered if he will visit them.
We had lunch by a beautiful little creek before the first intersection of the road to Borroloola and Cape Crawford. Up to this point the road had been pretty indifferent although at the southern end it does say “4WD ONLY” it is a worry that it does not have a similar sign at the Roper Bar end. None of the brochures we have found indicate the little picnic spots or give any publicity to the fishing which is pretty strange. The road to Borroloola is not part of the Savannah Way but was in great condition to where it joins up with the tar road from Cape Crawford to Borroloola. At Borroloola we picked phone service and made a few calls back home and answered some text messages. Apparently no one is missing us and we are not needed by anyone so we may as well stay out here for a bit longer.
At Borroloola they are building a new bridge to replace the low level crossing. It is about the same size as the Sydney harbour bridge and should never flood. The road from Borroloola was nothing like it was four years ago when we were here. It is very similar to a race track now. Or it is if you exclude the river crossings and the abysmal sections when you cross into Queensland.
We did our thing at the Robinson River and survived the crossing this time. We had been warned about the Calvert River and after taking some photographs cast off from the northern jetty towards the south. The bow wave was halfway up the bonnet, you could feel the tyres getting a grip on the stones and the Cook is calling out that the water was halfway up the doors and to put my window up. “Put the window up,” I was too busy at the helm. Thanks to the snorkel we made it the berth on the other side and clambered out as if nothing unusual had happened.
During the channel crossing the ambient temperature went from 30 degrees down to 19. We watched as it slowly climbed back to 29 degrees. An interesting observation was that the engine temperature also went up a little and then slowly fell back to normal.
On the Queensland side the road is really bad in some sections and in many sections was the slowest part of the trip from Katherine. Wollogorang roadhouse is closed but Hell’s Gate is operating although they do not accept plastic. They certainly grow wonderful colourful bougainvilleas out here. There is a shop, unleaded and diesel at $1.98, camping and some motel type units. The generator goes off at about 10pm and then you are on solar. Hells Gate is 676 square mile or about 433,000 acres which is a bit larger than your suburban block.
There were very few camping spots from where the back road jointed the Savannah Way, 26km the east of Borroloola, to Hells Gate. There were a couple around the Robinson River, at least one near the Calvert River and one or two off the road at the other rivers. Not very many in total.
We are about as far west of EST as you can get so the sun rose at 7.30 but the dawn light is a lovely soft yellowish light. Talking about yellowish. The Prado wheels have taken on a soft golden colour which looks pretty cool. The most o the caked on mud from the Canning has gone, washed off in the river crossings.
Monday
For the first time ever we have not gone back to work on this day. It feels good!
The road from Hells Gate (they spell it either way, Hell’s Gate) was a vast improvement over the rough stuff to the west. It was tar for much of the way and we were surprised about the amount of traffic. We passed two roadhouses, one at Doomadgee and the other at a place not on the map, Tranne, which according to GeoScience is abandoned, but it did look like it was. We stopped to take a photograph of a female (she has the yellow eye) Long Necked Stalk or Jabaroo just off the road from Hells gate.
There were a lot of road works taking place so soon you will able to go all over Australia on a skate board. If you want to see the rough stuff you had better go soon! After travelling several thousand kilometres on unsealed roads it was a bloody stretch of 20 metres which had been resealed and a Nissan ute which didn’t slow down which put the chip in the window in front of Carol. I was thinking about contacting the Novus people in Mt Isa but after a couple of bumps it had grown to about 450mm so it looks like a new screen when I get back home.
We found a terrific little lunch or camping site on Beames Brook just 23km south of the turn off to Lawn Hill from the Savannah Way. It is not marked on the maps but it does have a graded loop track into it. The location is lat 18 03.7 S long 139 15.874 E and the height above sea level was only 19m in the car, so it is all flat around here.
We booked into the Gregory Downs pub/caravan park at $7.50 per head. It is very pleasant and clean. There is a free site up at the river but the locals are not happy about people camping there as they say, “the campers pee in out drinking water.” My guess is they are upset because the freebees camp by the river and come and use the toilets up at the pub and are too tight to part with some money.
This post was typed while sitting on the edge of the Gregory River at Gregory Downs. The reason I mentioned that is I don’t want you to feel sorry for me slaving away over a hot keyboard. Or maybe it was just to make you jealous.
Talking about jealous, a light beer was $4 while a heavy is $5, I guess it makes giving change easier. Not only do they have beer here, at Gregory Downs, but they also have hot chips. To-night I going to eat out! (Probably outside the tent)
Tuesday
Didn’t bother about the chips but had one of Carol’s muffins and a coffee instead.
At 6.15am the grader engine started so I guess the rest of the camp was awake as well by the time he was just up the road and the reversing “beepers” were ringing out across the plain. The caravan park is really pleasant with good showers, toilets and a very friendly host.
As the dawn broke and the light streamed across the grass between the trees, and the grader was off somewhere making more noise, I took a wander over to the nearby cemetery. It has a nice fairly new picket fence around it and eight marked graves ranging in age from over 100 years to fairly recent. In the simplicity of a harsh outback life is one which deserves a mention. His final resting place is marked by a steel picket post with a length of wire holding a small rectangular piece of metal with “Tom Kemp” punched into it with probably a centre punch. There is nothing else. Makes you wonder what Tom Kemp’s life was like out here. There is also the headstone of a surveyor killed in a nearby helicopter crash in 2006. The three unopened cans of beer are still on the headstone.
The trip into Mount Isa was uneventful with a slow climb into the highlands of the Paroo Range and once again the rugged red hills with the little green tufts of grass appeared. We took the car to the Goodyear people who did a wheel alignment and the car feels a lot better although not perfect. I rang Glenn back at home, the car’s personal mechanic, and had a yarn about the trip and the goings on and booked it in for a service. After ringing the supplier of the chip and finding they would be on the road next week I rang their recommended dealer at, of all places Yamba and they have a dyno which should solve one way the tuning! One should always ring Yamba from Mount Isa to get their car tuned. I have done sillier things but I can’t remember when.
Mount Isa was its normal busy self so we joined in an stimulated the local economy by wasting money on food but we did get a coffee and new supply of long sleeved tee shirts.
After listening to the left wing ABC I bought a copy of the right wing Australian to balance things out and then decided we should stay out here until after the 28th August and hopefully the election would go away. We live in hope.
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