ANTIQUE ROAD SHOW 2015

Tuesday 21^st April

Wings clipped, hangar closed, garage opened, eggs sucked and we are off on a low altitude journey of discovery.  Two stray gonads in a diesel powered omnibus tramping around the countryside at sea level, with the alluring aroma of avgas a distant haunting memory.

The nut that holds the wheel is bubbling with excitement as the runway is exchanged for the road less travelled; the crisp rare air above for the red dust below.

But as the sun sets tonight some BBQ’d road kill and a couple of scotches will warm the soul and lift the spirits.


...and so....we were finally away by 2:30pm and thus expected to make the top of our drive by nightfall.  But alas, we have pressed on into the West against a strong crosswind, through familiar territory for Heather around Ballarat, and on towards my old tramping grounds. 

After a pitstop at the Lismore pub, we have settled at a great free camp site at the Derrinalum football ground. Right at the foot of Mount Elephant which I climbed over as a kid shooting rabbits. 

Just in time to watch the local lads training under lights as we ate our evening meal of microwaved KFC left over from breakfast.

ARTISTS IMPRESSION OF TOUR DIRECTOR

Warm and cosy in the Whippy Van with our power-source keeping the deep freeze freezing and our electric blankets warm.

Base camp #1

Ditto

Mt Elephant

Wednesday 22^nd April

After a marathon 175Km trek yesterday the breakfast meeting over toast and coffee this morning unanimously agreed we were setting far to cracking a pace.  After all, at that rate we would be across the Nullabor before Xmas.

Today’s destination would be real Elliot country, at Elingamite just south of Cobden.  The total distance for the day would be some 65 Km, a comfortable one hour drive.

This took us through Camperdown where I spent six mediocre years at High School, then on through the metropolis of Cobden where I first worked in a ‘chemist shop’ as a student.

With great constraint I drove straight past the Cobden airfield, resisting its magnetic appeal.

We have set up camp for the rest of the day and night at a great free camping spot right beside Lake Elingamite. If I look across the lake I can almost see our old farm just beyond the far bank.

And with four generations of Elliots having lived there, I think we deserve a road named after our forbearers!

The Elingamite State School where I spent the first six years of a stellar academic career is little more than a skeleton of its former glory.

And the lake itself has receded over many years—with no natural feeder stream and farmers constantly pumping onto crops.

As kids we used to swim and catch redfin here and there have been several drownings, including the father of a schoolmate and neighbour.

Home made sausages with eggs, tomatoes and onions for dinner tonight, and off to Portland tomorrow to visit a mate who has done a number of l-o-n-g outback and over water flights with me in theUGlyDuckling.

Thursday 23^rd April

The crappy building in yesterdays photos is the former Elingamite State School, long since turned into what looks like a used car yard. Not my childhood home, which it still lived in and loved by a local farmer known to our family.

Anywhere past Ballarat it is impossible to ignore the numerous signs and billboards directing tourists to the Great Ocean Road.  The Gumit have certainly spent a lot on promoting that track, with great success but no doubt to the detriment of places like central Victoria.

That road brings back many powerful memories for me, some good; others far less so.

As kids, Peterborough and Port Campbell were the summer playgrounds for us three boys.  One uncle owned the pub, another the local store-cum-servo.  Few people travelled the narrow GOR back then.

Some years later, in 1963 I was involved in an horrific accident on the GOR; a head-on collision between my new Austin Healey Sprite and a Peugeot station wagon driven by the local Baptist minister.  Ironically, right near the rock formation known as the ‘Twelve Apostles’!!

My soon-to-be wife (Helen) and subsequently Mother of my three wonderful kids, was critically injured and in hospital for several months.

All I copped was a broken ankle, kneecap, sternum and a few cuts and bruises.

The ‘God-Botherer’ was uninjured, and found a week later by the local cop, hanging from a rope on his back verandah, in the nude, with a long finished recording of hymns still revolving on the turntable. And in the middle of summer!!

Very gruesome stuff. 

The Coroner’s report took ages and confirmed that the man of the cloth had a number of ‘issues’ and the finding was ‘attempted suicide’ when he drove at us.

And so we will avoid the GOR today, and by the time we get to Portland will be past the haunting and hunting grounds of my youth!

We stopped on the foreshore at Warnambool and cooked up a great ‘brunch’ on their very clean and free BBQ’s. Councils like their’s deserve to be praised.

Then on to Portland and caught up with Des and Janine Pitts over a superb meal of pasta and a couple of bottles of wine and a scotch. 

Remarkably, the conversation got round to aviation. Des and I have flown quite a distance together, and once the scotch started to take over I think I might have almost convinced him to do another ‘major’ after the Antique Roadshow.

Slept soundly in their back yard.  (in the whippy van I think).

1963 not a good year for us--worse for JFK

Lake Elingamite

Brunch at Warnambool

At Pitts Portland

Des

Friday 24^th April

From Portland we drove through many miles of pine forests, with a constant procession of timber trucks, and it pissed with rain for two hours. 

A bit of an irony that the greenies are so keen to remove any traces of pinus radiata (eg Harcourt) when they were introduced in the mid 1800’s and are an important and valuable source of sustainable timber. 

Bum paper, tissues, newspapers and building timber all come from the humble pine.  Who cares if it is not a native species?  Neither are wine grapes, hops, malting barley or Angus steaks.

We called in to the quaint little hamlet of Nelson, right on the South Australian border. There were crow pies, curried crow and crumbed crow on the menu.  We settled for coffee without pie floaters.

Then on to Mount Gambier, deep inside crow eating territory and had a look at the Blue Lake.  

And on to Kingston and a great free stray gonad park, right on the foreshore.

They even have a different time zone here, so drink o’clock will be later than we anticipated.

Saturday 25^th April

There would have been a dawn service in Kingston, however we paid our respects by watching the ANZAC parade, which started at 8am from the foreshore to the centre of town.

Very moving with old diggers decked out with their medals driven in Vintage cars, a number of Vietnam vets in their motorbike gear, the scouts, SES, etc. And the whole town out to honour the moment.

A lone Tiger Moth did a fly past, fortunately in a clear morning sky; before the later rain.

Back at Kyneton a few of our members would have flown a dawn fly past over the cross on Mt Macedon, and later over the Kyneton parade itself. And Neils J. would have marched with his fellow vets, and no doubt adjourned to the RSL Club later.

I hope the weather was kinder back there than here.

We then drove on through the lands of the carrion-bird lovers and paused for lunch at Meningie on the shores of the Coorong.

I think the story of the little prick who rode an ostrich is a bit far fetched; the locals are pretty gullible!!

Then on through Murray Bridge and to our camp for tonight at the showgrounds in Mannum.

Tomorrow to Port Pirie, and a camping site next to the Club House at the airfield looks like a good option.

Sunday 26^th April

An early start today, on the fairway by 9am.  Through Angustan and the very pretty Clare Valley. Called in for our third dose of diesel at the whistle stop of Auburn, not bad at 129c/litre so we could just afford a coffee each also.

Then through Clare, Gulnare, and on to the main drag North at Chrystal Brook. And it rained or drizzled most of the day.

To Port Pirie, and found the airfield and the very comfortable terminal. 

Have camped here twice before; a bloke with initials TC will remember polluting the ladies bog comprehensively, just as the bank plane landed and the girlie flying it rushed in to go!!

This spot is very welcoming to pilots—no secret what numbers are required to press on the key pad for entry.

I called Steve who looks after the place, and he was happy for us to make ourselves at home, with our mobile bed just outside in the parking lot.

So before we retire, we have TV, heating, and clean dunnies.

Steve supports the charity Make a Wish, and an honesty box is provided for drinks, sandwiches to toast, soup, chocolate bars, coffee and tea.

We would much rather contribute to this place than a caravan park.

Just on dusk, the Flying Doctor PC12 flew in with a returning patient, met by the local Ambos.  We had a yarn to the driver who has been flying for the RFDS since 1979!!

Tomorrow we will continue on past Port Augusta, having decided to turn right and do the centre first, before travelling to the west, and back across the Nullabor.

So the REAL outback starts tomorrow.

Monday 27^th April

And it did.

It’s only about 65Km from Pirie to Augusta, along the western side of the Flinders Ranges.

Then a command decision—veer left towards the Nullabor, or right to Alice and Darwin.  We chose the latter, having received considerable advice from experienced road- runners—best to travel anti clockwise.

So, off up the Stuart highway towards Coober Pedy.  I imagined there would be roadhouses every 100Km or so, but this turned out to be so.

Next fuel stop Pimba, a further 300Km and we had taken on diesel way back at Auburn. So leaned the mixture a bit, reduced the cruise speed, and we finally arrived at Pimba, five clicks from Woomera, with plenty of reserve.        

Some 50Km south of Pimba we stopped to have a look at Lake Gairdner, the second largest salt lake in Australia, and the site of many land speed records.

The lake is 100 miles long and 30 wide and the site of the annual speed week, but not this year as the salt which is normally over a metre thick, it covered in water.

A neighbor of ours from Faraday (RC) holds several records there in a much modified saloon car. Well over 200mph.

The lookout signage prattles on about the ‘traditional owners’ of the area; how fragile it is, and then reminds us that it is a ‘pastoral holding’ and thus someone’s ‘back yard’.

And the Woomera ‘rocket range’ is just over the other side of the road.  Double standards?

Shit I feel guilty!! Please pass the tissues.

And while I’m on about it, would someone shoot that fucking cockatoo!!

Following good rains, the area is lush green with saltbush for the sheep, and it will be great for the traditional owners to burn when it dries.

At Pimba we set up camp and by dusk were joined by over fifteen gonadotrophic outfits––in a variety of caravans and motor homes.

Excellent coverage here, so made a few calls back home; partook of a meal and a ‘soft drink’ or two, and an early night.

On to Coober Pedy tomorrow.

Tuesday 28^th April

We are beginning to learn a bit of the stray gonad free camping etiquette.

Best to turn off generators by about 8pm, 9pm at the latest, or the fleet gets a bit excited.

So we obliged.  After all ten o’clock was nearly bedtime anyway!

This morning, up with the crows and off to an early start, aiming to make Coober Pedy by mid-afternoon.

Very hungry country our here, even the lizards are struggling to survive.

We did however pass our first flock of Kidman’s Hens, happily grazing on whatever they eat; two magnificent wedge-tailed eagles feasting on fresh rabbit, with crows hanging round for the scraps.

Also the first red kangaroo, no doubt freshly squashed by a truck during the night.

Our breakfast stop was at Glendanbo, some 150 clicks north of Pimba. Topped up the diesel and downed a coffee, then back on the road.

A few miles south of Bon Bon we came across one of many road/runways used by the Flying Doctor, or others in need.

These are well signposted, with piano keys on the widened road surface, with turning nodes for aircraft each end of a one Km stretch.

Stopped at Bon Bon for our lunch; nothing more here than a long-drop and roadside rest spot.

Then a further 200Km to Coober Pedy where we were met by the locals including ‘midnight’ who had probably been propped against that rubbish bin since breakfast.  His metho bottle was getting low and he was sleeping soundly.

Booked into a caravan park here, there are too many traditional owners about to ‘free-camp’.  Generators are easy picking, we will chain ours to the tow bar from here on.

We will have a full day here tomorrow, and explore the underground.

Heather and I stayed here overnight in 2000 when we flew in ‘The Outback Air Race’, a fundraiser for the RFDS, which started at Bunbury, south of Perth.

And so we have survived over a week already without any assault or murder charges against each other!!

Distance traveled today: 375Km, total so far 1900Km.

Wednesday 29^th April

A full day of rest in the metropolis of Coober Pedy.

A bit like Lightning Ridge, but many more of the locals live in holes in the ground.

Some of the holes are masterpieces of architecture.

The traditional owners, of whom there and a large number, tend to dwell on the surface, which they find more convenient to visit their pay office and the watering holes.

Bottle shop sales restrict everyone to one bottle of wine per day, which Heather found rather brutal.

However after all my license details were entered into the liquor store computer, I was able to buy a decent bottle of Scotch for $37—a malt blend, but a cut above JW and his peers.

But drinking it on the footpath or in the park is forbidden.

Even the God Bothers have gone to ground here.  There is a large Croatian and Serbian community and their places of worship have been splendidly carved out of the opal-bearing earth.

During the aforementioned RFDS flight, we stayed above ground in town, but the whole team of sixty odd had a catered-for dinner in the underground Serbian church.

It would have made them a few quid, and ah—it cleansed our souls.

It must be a hard place to live, work and play.

But the locals seem to have a wicked sense of humor and are not averse to taking the piss out of themselves.

We loved the ‘white man’s totem pole’, and even the sign to the cemetery induces a wry smile.

Again like Lightning Ridge, there are twice as many with post office addresses than there are on the electoral role.

If yer have to dig for riches in this unforgiving earth, what harm does a little bit of tax evasion do!

Happy hour here with pizza this evening, and off to Marla in the morning.

Thursday 30^th April

The plan was to make it to Marla today.

The Coober Pedy opal fields extend some thirty clicks north of the township and then there is a further 200k of featureless landscape to Marla Roadhouse.

We were there by 1pm, so stopped to top up diesel and consume a couple of their hamburgers with the lot.  A REAL lot; which will keep us going for the rest of the day.

The Ghan passes through Marla twice a week, and I think that is their main claim to immortality.

We decided here we could comfortably make the Territory border for the night, and so continued on, with a further rest stop at Cadney Homestead Roadhouse.

Their fuel signs also mentioned Avgas, so I enquired, and yes there is a reasonable strip behind the roadhouse.  Must file that for future use.

By mid-afternoon we were close to the border and called in at a roadside camp. Many stray gonads here, and they were getting ready for the night; mini chainsaws at work illegally collecting firewood; and seemed in party mode.

We thought of stopping and joining them, but continued on to the border, and found a great free campsite, already loaded with many ‘stronads’.  Right on the SA/NT border!

Stronads © ?—our new name for the vulgar term I have been using to date.  In deference to the clergy; to appease the ‘Grey Nomads’, the intellectually challenged, the great unwashed, and in the true spirit of poor taste.

The ‘stronads’ at the above site were clearly traveling in convoy and were averse to peasants such as us, and indicated we should set up a few paces away with a generator!!

So we did.  The ‘genny’ ran till about 9pm, which possibly pissed them off, but enabled us to cook a good feed and stumble into bed.

We did try to communicate with this lot, but they seem a bit pissed off with their lot; and I gather they regret that they didn’t get off their arses and become adventurers decades go.

They don’t seem to acknowledge the young visitors who have taken the plunge and are explorers, often in very basic facilities, and looking for work of any kind to support their adventures.

 Friday 1^st May

Having packed our generator and chairs in the pope-mobile before bedtime, we drew the anchor in at 6:30am and woke up all the wowsers in their flash rigs.

It was only about 30 clicks further to the Kulgera pub, its claim to fame being the ‘first and last pub in the territory’.

At 7am it seemed a bit early for a beer, even though it is Friday. So we settled for diesel for the van and coffee for us.

Diesel here, $1.89/l but as the sign on the counter says: Take it of Leave it!!

We took it! 

It concerns me how many ‘stronads’ bitch about prices out in the bush—it’s a bloody long way to cart a bacon and egg sandwich, or even a pig, a chook or a loaf of bread.

Then on a further 120Km, and stopped for our cornflakes and milk, at a very user-friendly wayside stop.

Plenty of space at these stops, clear but non-potable water, and clean long drops. 

Very long drops.

Take care not to drop yer phone as yer drop yer dax!

Then on to Erlduda Roadhouse at the junction of the Lasseter Highway leading out to Ayers Rock. Been there, done that a number of times in theUGlyDuckling, so after a short pit-stop, continued on to Alice.

Fuel top-up at Alice and then quickly through—the place has a nice name but not a good place to prop for us invaders.

Heather needed phone coverage to make a couple of calls back home and so we stopped at the first roadside place a few Km north and she attended to those.

We had had Telstra coverage from 35km south of Alice, so I expected that would be the case 35Km north, where we have stopped for the rest of the day and night right at the Tropic of Capricorn.

Not so however, so I am unable to post these notes or make calls till possibly Heather’s home-town of Tennant Creek, probably on Sunday.

I have taken scotch fillets out of the freezer to sear tonight with a couple of Scotches.

A few of the younger stronads made camp here: poms, French and German.  They are far less objectionable than some of the ones our age, and we enjoy their company.

The steak was superb, cooked on our gas range in the van, with a side salad of eggs and grilled tomatoes.

A place called Aileron looks like a likely stop for morning coffee tomorrow.  We don’t have ailerons, flaps, trim tabs or even a rudder, but how could we bypass a stop with that name?

And Oz Runways does list a runway there too!!

Flyday 2^nd May

It’s Flyday back home (AKA Saturday) and the usual crew at YKTN will be having a fly, a pie and a lie or two. I guess I’m suffering mild withdrawal symptoms already.

Removed the bails and left this happy camp site at 6:30am.

Arrived at Aileron at 8am just as a local owner waddled out to his beaten up vehicle with a six-pack of warm VB cans.

The theory is they work faster if they’re warm, just like the Nauruans when I worked there years ago.

Here we met Gregory Francis Dick (1945-2045), the very much alive proprietor and raconteur.

He had been up since 4am making fresh sangas, serving diesel and looking after the coffee machine.

Of course I needed to know the origin of the name of the place.

Simple, according to Gregory Francis Dick. Years ago they were transporting ‘old bi-planes’ up this way, and an aileron fell off one at this spot.

GFD has a unique sense if humor, acquired as he says from far too many years in the bush.

Some time back his mates warned him he was working himself to death, so he had his coffin constructed, and for a bet, has slept in it a number of times.

Says it’s quite comfortable too!

We ordered coffee, which at $4 a mug can be topped up if you wish.

And then bacon and egg sandwiches for breakfast. There were three choices—cage laid, free range or fertilized.

I had fertilized and Heather opted for cage laid, and they were fresh and complete with a slab of cheese and a thick piece of bacon.

Of course I bought a souvenir Aileron mug to add to the decor of the ‘flight deck’ bar back home.

For further excitement during the long drive north through Ti Tree, we saw our first dingo, a couple of wayward camels and again a number of wedge tailed eagles devouring ‘roo for breakfast.

And the inevitable crows hanging round for scraps.

Then on to Barrow Creek Hotel, to camp for the night.

We have set up home under the only shady tree for miles, right opposite the pub.

Nothing much here except a very run down pub, fuel and a lot of traditional owners who seem quite civilized and friendly.

And best of all, a great Telstra tower, erected in 2014 at a cost of some $5million.

Tomorrow we will travel a further 130k to Tennant Creek, via Wauchope and the Devils Marbles.

Sunday 3^rd May

Well we were the only takers at Barrow Creek last night. I wonder why.  This place is ripe for an overhaul and would be a gold mine like all the other roadhouses along the Stuart Highway.

But bad reviews travel fast and the place urgently needs a work over by Cam from ‘The Block” or similar. 

Perhaps the fact that there are two ‘communities’, one each side of the roadhouse puts people off; also Barrow Creek is associated with that pommy couple who were abducted here a few fears ago, and the blokes’ body has never been found!

With doors locked however, we spent a peaceful night well away from the pub; and I got up at 5am and put about ninety clicks behind us; with Heather still resting on her bunk.

I guess that’s illegal too, but we arrived safely at Wycliffe Wells, where aliens from Mars are alleged to have landed, and been observed by many locals. 

Obviously tea-totallers.’ Or too much sun.

The only alien we encountered was a friendly pet emu who walked up to greet us.

A coffee break here, and then on to a nice roadside stop for cornflakes. A few young French stronads here in their little whippy vans.

Next point of interest was the Devils Marbles past Wauchope, some 100K south of Tennant Creek.

And then, onto Tennant Creek by 1:30.  A couple of nostalgic laps of the town for Heather, which she noted has changed over the years, although we did fly in here some fifteen years ago.

She went to school here and her parents owned a general store and her Dad was a mining engineer and developed many mines here.

We have picked the best shady spot in the best of two caravan parks; after all we need a good scrub up and clothes wash once or so a month.

I have taken two giant t-bones out of the Waeco freezer and they will go well with a couple of beers in the cool of the evening.

Frozen 'roo tails, skin on, $47.00 each!!

A nostalgic look

Monday 4^th May

Last night we were given an impromptu entrée of a couple of superbly cooked fresh Victorian prawns.

I couple of blokes who were heading up North on a serious fishing trip had brought some of their catch with them.

Our appreciation was so well received that they returned with a plate of these morsels and a bit of dipping sauce.

All I could offer in return was the loan of a corkscrew to open possibly their 3^rd or 4^th bottle of red.

Their merry party continued in the camp kitchen as they entertained quite a few of the ladies, and they didn’t leave for bed till late.

All very entertaining.

The prawns had just about satiated us, but we cooked up those monster steaks for a midnight snack.

We also had a yarn to a German couple who are riding round Australia on pushbikes; having started from Sydney a few months ago and planning to spend a year in the saddle.

Couldn’t quite finish the steaks but they will be lunch tomorrow.

After a great sleep we had a further lap of some of Heathers’ old haunts, then on up the Stuart past the Flynn Memorial at the Three Ways junction—North to Darwin, South to Adelaide and East to Mt Isa.

Stopped at Renner Springs roadhouse for the steak remnants for lunch, and then on to Elliott.

Bugger me, I am sick of people corrupting my name, and have contacted the authorities to correct the spelling.

Just south of Newcastle Waters we have stopped at a great free stronads parking area and I have selected a spot away a bit from the crowds so we can run the generator guilt-free.

And it’s bloody hot here!

284K today, and not far tomorrow for a day and night of debauchery at the Daly Waters pub. 

A must do, flying, driving or whatever.

Tuesday 5^th May

It was Picnic Day yesterday, a public holiday in the Northern Territory, so now we know why nothing was open except the servos and roadhouses.

We watched the full moon rise last evening and the sun rise this morning and the photos don’t do justice to either.

Then headed off early and drove about eighty Km to Dunmarra for their fresh homemade pies for breakfast.

While the truckies were attempting a three course meal for their break-o-day; some having difficulty finishing it all.

Topped up the diesel at 1.58 and filled the ULP drum for the generator at 1.59

I’m pleased the man-eating snakes in the corner of the dining room at the roadhouse had breakfasted.

This one looked like a plastic replica until I tapped on the glass. Shit, he sure is alive!

The landscape from here north is beginning to change quite a bit; the anthills are bigger, and they’re grey and not red, reflecting the changing soil color.

What trees there are are more lush, and the wedge-tailed eagles diets are now mostly what looks like kangaroo rats.

These little critters are scattered abundantly on the road in the morning, having succumbed to road trains during the night.

Must ask Mister Attenborough what they are!

We arrived at Daly Waters at 10am, so after placing our order for ‘beef and barra’ this evening, settled down for a rest in the van.

Have flown here three times before, and they still have about 120 litres of a full drum I bought here last year for $800.

They don’t have Avgas, anyone flying in must order it a week in advance!!

I couldn’t find mine, and I’ll bet Graeme Boatman hopes his two drums are here next time be flies in!!

Heather had a swim in the salt-water pool, and tells me she has broken the twenty metre record for mature aged women.

It may not be recognized by FINA however, as is was not in fresh water.

Meanwhile, I have been training for the men’s veterans ten metre final, under a cold shower.

But the race is after beer o’clock, and happy hour starts here at 5pm with pots of Carlton Draught on tap at $3:50

Might have to concede the swimming title this time.

Wednesday 6^th May

Happy hour started at precisely 1700 and the crush to get served continued unabated till 1800 with few serious casualties and no recorded fatalities.

Several of the early starters who had been power drinking since breakfast just seemed to fade into oblivion.

But in this heat, ice cold Carlton Draught of tap beats champagne any day. The first place in the outback where they don’t just have stubbies or cans of the stuff.

The ‘beef and barra’ is served in two sittings, 6:30 and 7pm.  Beef a bit ordinaire, but the barra is great. With piles of self-serve, fresh salad.

And then the floorshow; a forgettable ‘comedian’ and a tone-deaf female vocalist.

Enough to destroy any conversation, and send the hoards scattering to their bunks.

After a great nights sleep we stoked up the boiler early and headed off around 7am and stopped for breakfast at the Pink Panther pub at Larrimah.

Breakfast again, the local freshly baked beef pies.  Most have been exceptional, but give Larrimah a miss; pies look like they’ve been cooked in a jaffle iron, but fresh.

The place however is almost on a par with Barrow Creek; another former gem waiting for a makeover.

Nearby is the WWII Corrie dirt strip—allegedly the longest wartime strip in Australia, constructed during the bombing of Darwin.

A couple of crappy drawings on the dunnies don’t do justice to the aircraft or those who flew them.

Then on to a nice clean roadhouse about 60k up the track at Mataranka for an ice cold squash. 

Flew into Mataranka homestead with Heather and DP about 20 years ago, and almost clipped a ‘roo as I flared onto their long grass runway!

Then on to Katherine, arriving by 10:30am. 36 degrees in the waterbag.

We have booked into a nice caravan park on the eastern edge of the town, adjacent to the Victoria Highway (The Savanah Way), which heads west to Kununurra and beyond.

We will prop here for the night, and maybe tomorrow also. There’s a nice clean pool here and only 300 m from the Katherine Hot Springs.

With my stuffed ankles and mobility issues it will probably be the camp pool for me.

A pity, as it restricts my extravehicular activities.

But no problems sitting at the tiller of the bus however, and likewise the wheel of theUGlyDuckling.

Must be feeling the abstinence again!

The van needs an oil change and I wouldn’t mind having a front-end alignment, if possible.

The vehicle that is, although I possibly need one also!

THE COLORED THING IN THE CORNER IS A TELLE--HAVEN'T SEEN ONE FOR A WHILE. KATHERINE: 36 DEGREES!!

Thursday 7^th May

Yesterday afternoon I finally found a service place willing to put the bus on the hoist, so it now has fresh oil and a new filter.

No luck with a wheel alignment, I will keep an eye on the port-side front tire and possibly have it checked or replaced at Kununurra in a few days.

And so today has been a designated rest day. We got a bit of a cool breeze overnight, and slept in late.

Cooked m an x for breakfast in the camp kitchen, then back to our bunks till midday.

We had been advised that noon was the best time to shop in the only supermarket, and we needed to stock up of a few essentials.

Oh for an Aldi store. But then Woolworths are rip-off merchants all over the country.

The checkout lady warned us the abs hanging around would offer to return the trolley, to collect the two bucks deposit.

‘Just tell them to bugger off, they understand that’ was her suggestion, which she repeats to every customer.

Katherine is a bit of a black and white minstrel show, with a population of 9,500 and a majority of the former.

Two young cops sit outside the liquor store all day, checking ID’s and watching that things don’t get out of hand.

For a change of scenery and a cool place to relax, we visited the Katherine Country Club for lunch.

While I sat in the lounge catching up with these notes, Heather couldn’t resist the pokies, and returned with $150, so it was her shout for lunch at the club.

Back to the covered wagon for the rest of the day, and as it was getting very hot again, I braved the park pool and attended to my weekly washing.

Even though there was no lifeguard in attendance!

We will head off West early tomorrow morning, but no more that 200k before finding a free camping site.

Today’s pictorial offerings are rather limited!

Friday 8^th May

We have decided to spent a further day hear in beautiful Katherine.

Because of the rubber!

They don’t sell rubbers in chemist shops up here, so I tried Bridgestone first, but their rubbers were far too big.

With a bit of luck I convinced the blokes at Goodyear to change a good tire from the starboard rear (dual rubbers) with the port-side front tire which was scrubbing on the outside a bit.

This took most of the morning, and I have convinced the friendly place where I had an oil change, to do a ‘bush alignment’ this afternoon.

They can’t alter the camber, but can fix the toe-in/out which will correct the bus pulling to the left.

They are busy till 2pm so we have had lunch at the Country Club again in the air-conditioned lounge, with Heather banned from the pokies.

After lunch things really changed!

The mechanic took a brief look under the front of the omnibus and announced that the RHS tie rod-ends  were all but knackered, and hence the cause of the LHS tire scrubbing.

He called around for a new set: nothing in Repco at Katherine or Darwin.

Then a call to another place in Darwin unearthed what we need, which will be freighted overnight to Katherine.

I guess it won’t be cheap, but at least it’s not a part for a Cessna!!!!

My hat has been set up in the office and donations can be accepted during office hours (8am to 8pm daily)

Regrettably all donations over $2 are not tax deductible.

And bugger me, tomorrow is Flyday and we will now have a full weekend here, without wheels, and the van is booked in for 8am on Monday!

And so drove cautiously back to our caravan park and settled in for the weekend.

Wish I had my quad bike/Honda wheelchair to take a tour around, but we will find something to entertain ourselves.

Please help me!!

Please help--Heather's last handbag!!

Now, thats a road train!!

Flyday 9^th May

So it’s Flyday again and at YKTN ‘those daring young men in their flying machines’ will be swooping low over peacefully grazing horses and weekend gardeners trimming their welcoming signs.

All spewing out petrol fumes and making a detestable clatter.

Terrifying poor farmers out tilling their fields and little old ladies with new hearing aid batteries.

Whilst ‘little kiddies’ look skyward in awe.

For we were them once; peering through high fences at men with helmets and goggles and strange machines that rose to the skies.

Ah what a wondrous world!

Up here at Katherine the Tindal boys have put their noisy toys away for the weekend, and there have been only a couple of civilian choppers disturbing the peace and quiet of us campers.

As we travel about, I make no apologies for mentioning flights I have made to places we are now  visiting by road.

I flew into Tindal with Heather years ago on a trip to Darwin and Broome.  Well before George W. and ASICS were invented; no fences and no obvious security.

We refueled there and ate our sandwiches in part of a modest terminal under construction.

Have got a clearance through their airspace a couple of times since, and flown right over the top of their big open RAAF hangars.

A bit cooler here today, and I might try and waddle down to the hot springs later.

The appeal for funds for the tie-rod repairs is going reasonable well, I might set up the collection cap in a more affluent area, as it’s strictly cash only!

Wheels at last....

....and off I go!

And I'm flat out at 1KPH

Like all Councils, no one home on Flyday

Gotta be brave

Hot Springs

Beer o'clock

Sunday 10^th May

The park manager caught me red handed getting away with his Harley, and after a severe reprimand I was released on good behavior.

Hence I DID have to waddle down to the hot springs with no assistance from the local Council.

It was a long trek down a 300 metre track but well worth a dip with the crocs.

Lots of old crocs.

Hardly hot springs, but cool, crystal clear and invigorating.

Being the Sabbath we slept in and it seems have now missed the morning service.

As have all the other stronads here, and there are many.

For Mothers day, I gave Heather a big cold sausage for breakfast, left over from dinner last night.

I hope all the mothers out there did better than that!

Having received notification that stronad(s)© has been officially registered under the Copyright Act 1968 (as amended), I should endeavor to attempt a brief classification of the main varieties.

For clarity I will use aircraft types to distinguish various characteristics.

Firstly there are the Hang Gliders. Strictly speaking, these rare species are not true stronads.

Generally traveling in pairs, these remarkable types are peddling their way round Australia; one lot, even around the world.

They are mostly German, French or British. They wear lycre, are young, very fit, and travel in the early morning or in the evening.

Their diet is muesli bars and water and they carry their canvas homes with them.

And are highly gonadotrophic.

Next would perhaps be the Drifters or Thrusters.

They are young, sleep in their clapped our old sedans, and arrive at stops late at night reeking of booze and playing doof-doof noise. Their diet is 2-minute noodles, and take-away food when available.

The true Grey Nomads just love them!

Then there are the Cessna 150’s and  Piper Tommies.  Many are in hired Apollo or Blitz whippy vans, pretty much self contained and of varying ages.

Mix well with other stronads, are often from overseas, adventurous and multi lingual. True stray gonads.

Next come the C172’s or the like. Mostly sixty or over, some much older and some much younger.

From converted Combi Vans, through Coasters to what were once Leyland buses.

Pretty much self-contained, but often with generators, which annoy the more affluent stronads. 

But undoubtedly true stronads, and we probably belong to this group.  Usually canivores.

Diets include pasta, cooked meals, 2-minute noodles and pre-packed food, salami, beer, wine and occsionally scotch.

Then the Bonanza group.

Possibly where all the nomenclature came from.  Totally self-contained down to the Sunday roast, generally hunting in packs, a cut above the rest of us battlers and happy to let that be known.

Ages vary from fifty to ninety; the older ones being the friendliest.

At happy hour they open Passion Wine, Cold Duck or Porphyry Pearl and down it with goose liver paté and crackers.

They drive new FWD’s towing luxurious vans with everything including the kitchen sink.

Or luxurious motor homes with shiny fresh paint and low interest loans.

These are the top of the range stronads in affluence, but at the bottom of the fun-pile.

There is another unique group; again perhaps not true stronads.

These are the Maules.

In FWD’s with collapsible tents on top, boats behind, mud and dust covered, and heading for river and sea.

Friendly to all, serious beer drinkers, steak eaters and adventurers. Have done this many times before!

This is a brief and very generalized stronadophile.

There are and will be many more sub-species which may be mentioned from time to time.

But hopefully we won’t be stranded with nothing much to do again!!  It sure shows, doesn’t it!

I expect janitorial wages if we are here much longer!

Katherine STRONAD park

Monday 11^th May

I had the Coaster down at the service centre at 7:45 as arranged. An inconspicuous place on the eastern edge of town, a bit out of the way but they tackle everything there.

The chief mechanic was sitting on a milk crate out the front having his coffee and a smoke and they were straight onto the job at 8:00.

The parts had arrived from Darwin and I sat in the office while the boys went to work.

The scrubber who runs the office arrived right on 8:30.

What a great bird.

Dressed for the day in tight leopard skin leggings, ugg boots, and a white hoodie, with a fag hanging from the lips. As lean as a starved dingo.

She pronounced that it was bloody cold, then sat down to do the books.

After breakfast of a further three or four fags, she got quite chatty and told me about her menagerie which includes eight pythons, numerous parrots and other avian types plus a broken down race horse. 

With photos on her iPhone to prove it all.

By 9:30 our vehicle was fixed and had been taken for a test run, so I paid the scrubber and was out of there.

And so finally we left Katherine and headed west at 10am.

Within fifty Km the scenery changed vastly from the unrelenting boredom of the Stuart highway ‘up the guts’. All the stronads agree.

We stopped for breakfast at a nice treed stronads stop, of which there are many towards Victoria River.

The road to Victoria River has many rugged hills and escarpments, lush vegetation and the roadside trees are bigger.

And they include those unique boab trees, which I hadn’t seen before.

We are into the Kimberly, part of the Gregory National Park.

But the constant burning off by our deeply tanned landlords stuffs up hundreds and hundreds of square miles of landscape.

And the smoke rises up for miles in the still air. When JL and I flew across here we were almost in IMC at 8000 feet.

Good cattle grazing country and many herds of Brahman fattening up for the slaughter sheds of our Indonesian friends.

The Victoria River itself is quite vast and after crossing it we pulled into the roadhouse of that name and had a  big home manufactured hamburger each for lunch.

It was still only 1:30 so decided to continue on to Timber Creek, a further 93 Km. Not such a good decision as it turned out.

Timber creek is a sadly run down ‘community’; plastic windows on the roadhouse shop and ‘pub’ and our heroes pissed and obnoxious as usual.

The caravan park looked nice and well shaded, but there were virtually no takers.

It was about 3pm, so where were all the stronads?

The lady in the ‘shop’ suggested we should camp at a nice spot 10Km further on, called the ‘boat ramp’.

We found this spot right on the Victoria River, a great free camp site. What a change from Timber Creek.

Stronads everywhere including several Bonanzas, a number of Maules and a couple of C172’s and C150’s.

Clean toilets, water, shaded parking areas and fire places.

Even the Bonanzas didn’t get excited with the generator running till 8pm. 

We weren’t the only ones!

Boat Ramp Victoria River

Tuesday 12^th May

Up early, and even one of the Bonanzas had a genny running by 8am! Things are looking up.

Went for an early waddle down to the boat ramp on the Victoria River, a very large stream.

Many large boab trees which are numerous in the Kimberly, and a massive eagles nest high in one, with its owner already souring above for breakfast morsels.

Just a ‘dingoes breakfast’ here for us, as we planned to have a cook-up further down the track before the thought police confiscate all the fruit and veg at the WA border.

Came across what looked like a horrible sight; at first glance a mangled pushbike right on the edge of the road.

We stopped, and I expected to find the worst. However, it was two pushbikes and a spare wheel that had fallen off the back of a large fifth wheeler (Cessna Caravan); quite a bit bigger than a Bonanza.

While we were at the site the owners returned to toss away the bikes and collect the spare wheel!

Then on to the border where the remnants of our cook-up were duly collected by the officer on duty.

Here they take no prisoners, everyone is stopped and searched.

I might of imagined it, but while I was there I’m sure his wife called up and said something like ‘could you bring home a couple of kilos of bananas and a nice rockmelon luv. And we’re just about out of spuds, onions and those nice Territory tomatoes…. And I almost forgot, a few ripe avocados would be nice for a salad tonight’.

But of course they wouldn’t do that, would they!

On the recommendation of fellow travellers, we drove in the 36km to Lake Argyle and booked into their excellent park.

And took the ‘Sunset Cruise’ on the lake, which left the campgrounds at 2:30, but the sun sets at 5pm here.

And rises at 5am also.

The cruise was brilliant as I hope the photos show. The lake on the Ord River is some 70 miles long and 40 wide, and as they boast, holds 21 times the volume of Sydney Harbour.

The driver anchored just before sunset and quite a few younger stronads went for a dip off the blunt end.

We were cunning enough to remain on board as the Captain served large glasses of champagne with biscuits and dip.

Just on sunset, a C206 on floats flew past and did a ‘splash and go’ right in front of the bow: what an ad for their joy flights!!

A great day on the water; fresh-water crocs, rock wallabies, fish surrounding the boat, and a brilliant sunset.

Back at the camp we sat round the beer garden listening to a young bloke strumming a guitar and stumbled off to our bunks about 8pm.

It was later that we thought, we had gained a further hour and a half today.

Tomorrow we will continue on to Kununurra which is only 76Km from here, and should have phone and internet coverage for the first time for three days.

Wednesday 13^th May

A big breakfast in the resort restaurant, a good clean up, and left this fine park at 10am. 36Km back to the main drag and a further 40 into Kununurra.  Have Internet coverage here so have updated things a bit.

No phone service with TPG but Skype is fine.

Did some general shopping at Coles and some serious shopping over the road at the well fenced-off bottle shop.  ‘No car, no service, no exception’.

So we drove through and stocked up on the essentials. It is bloody hot up here, hot enough for even the gentile to yearn for a beer.

And the van was getting thirsty, so we obliged at 1.58/l.

It was much too early to camp for the night, so drove on a bit toward the dreaded Halls Creek.

Colin Barnett needs a clap on the back for signposting rest spots along the Great Northern Highway.

We found one at the turn-off to Wynyard, and another a further 48Km towards Halls Creek.

The scenery and vegetation along this section of road is quite lush, with much cropping from the Ord River system.

They grow acres and acres of some hippy stuff as a substitute for wheat. Also lots of cotton, which is much more visible from the air.

We have stopped and set up camp at a great stronad place called Durham River, 118Km north of Turkey Creek.

Clean dunnies, water, fireplaces and no generator problems. 

Seven stronads here when we arrived, well over a dozen by 4:30pm and they are still arriving.

A Joan Collins look-alike with inch-thick makeup, too many rings, baked on nail polish and false eyelashes is holding court, and obviously declared wine-o’clock an hour or so ago.

Her toy dog makes her the centre of attention, which probably keeps the pressure off poor ole Jim.

Jim (Collins too I guess) doesn’t get a word in but seems a nice bloke; might get to talk to him later when she collapses.

He looks bored shitless and probably can’t wait to leave her on the beach at Broome and go off drowning worms.

They are in a Bonanza with tip tanks, TMI panel, ‘one with the lot’.

There are other friendly stronads here in various Cessnas and several Maules, some going north, some our way. We have shared notes on good camp areas.

A good stop for tomorrow night could be Spring Creek, 100 clicks North of Halls Creek, so an easy drive the next morning to avoid that place.

Just lock the doors and drive straight through.

Surprisingly we have (a bit of) internet coverage here; must be not far from a ‘community’, the stronads suggest.

Possibly won’t get good coverage again till Broome in a few days time.

Thursday 14^th May

In the morning a few of us technically challenged watched on as one of the blokes in the group worked on the wiring of his Bonanza.

Some Bonanza drivers are quite decent stronads.

The problem was each time he touched the brake pedal, the back of the van lit up like a Xmas tree.

He showed great constraint as we all stood round drinking coffee and giving useless advice while he struggled with mangled wires.

Meanwhile Joan had emerged and was preparing her face for the day with new layers of ochre and jars of expensive preservatives.

There were a number of stronads with dogs here, and Joan decided to hold an impromptu clinic, with abundant vetinary advice to all the canine lovers.

Based of course on what she had done for ‘Trixie’, her small ball of fluff that looks like a manicured monkey.

‘The best thing I use is salt. The vet charged four hundred dollars and all I got were some steroid pills that didn’t work. …and the best thing for their dry feet out here is olive oil  and…’ 

Shit I think she took the steroid pills.

So we bid fond farewell to Joan and her followers and headed on full of fresh advice towards Turkey Creek.

The sealed track narrowed along this section, not much room for a road train and a stronad to pass; and many single-lane bridges.

Including a long one over the dried bed of the Ord River.

The crops we saw yesterday included miles and miles of sandal wood trees, which are used for perfumes and also incense, I think.

Apparently a valuable crop, thriving with abundant water from the Ord.

And the ant hills here take on a huge dimension: must be a different type of ant, again, must ask Mr Attenborough!

Road works going on at a snails pace with several long delays and a poor bloke with the stop sign was covered in flies.

What an exciting vocation, but guess he could sit on his Esky most of the day.

We pulled into Turkey Creek ‘roadhouse’ (Wanum) run for/on behalf of the abs.

Dearest fuel so far at 199.9/l and $12 for a couple of ice creams—not complaining, just recording.

A bit further on, called into Spring Creek stronads free park. Still only noon, but nearly packed out already and difficult to find a level area, so on further.

Somehow missed a spot called Little Panton, and bugger me, the next stop would be Halls Creek!

So after mouthing off to everyone to avoid the place, here we are in the caravan park at Halls bloody Creek!!

Total distance for the day, 292k, a bit further that I had planned.

Have landed here in theUGlyDuckling twice before and the place was life something out of a horror movie.

Slept under the wing the first time, camping with a mate, and an ex-SAS bloke came past with his Rottweiler and thought we were mad.

‘Shit, you blokes are game, hope you have a gun or an iron bar for protection.’

We did.

Then JL and I landed here in 2012, just for a quick re-fuel, and off to Kununurra.

At that time there were more police here than any other community ‘town’ and the place was to be avoided if possible.

However it seems to have been cleaned up a bit, there are several new shops and even a pharmacy, and the caravan park is almost reasonable, and well fenced.

Tomorrow we hope to stop at Mary Pond, about half way to Fitzroy Crossing from here, and regarded as an excellent stronads free park.

Better get there before midday!!

Friday 15^th May

Heather asked the park lady if it was safe to leave chairs and things outside during the night.

‘Yes, no problems, but don’t leave shoes outside as they will vanish. The locals MUST wear shoes to be allowed into the pub’.

After surviving the night at Halls Creek we were both getting low on ‘steroids’ and I used the opportunity to check out the local pharmacy and get our repeat prescriptions dispensed.

A quaint little shed-like building, with a tin roof and flimsy walls.

Gus the pharmacist is a giant of a man, probably of African-American origin, but a Kiwi native and graduate of the University of Ottago.

Which he correctly points out is the worlds’ most southerly University.

The pharmacy operates under Section 100 of the National Health Act (2004) whereby the Commonwealth provides free prescription medication to Aboriginal Health Centres established in remote communities such as this.

His take on the ‘problem’ was rather simplistic but intuitive; he has worked amongst them in some very remote places.

‘The Holt referendum of 1967 leading to their inclusion in the census and nominally equal pay, caused outback station owners to sack them as stockmen in favour of white workers.

Hence hundreds were unemployed and families drifted towards townships where grog flowed freely and white mans trappings abounded.

They soon found that there was no need to work anyway, as they could get paid to do nothing. Also the Government would provide housing and all sorts of benefits at no cost.

And on it goes…’

Gus is unmarried but quite happy with his lifestyle, and there are several medicos in the clinic that he socializes with.

We then drove on through a very scenic part of the Kimberly for about 120km and arrived at ‘Mary Pool’ right on noon.

And as I drove across a fiord to the park area, there was bloody Joan and her monkey (and Jim) to greet us.  I think she’s haunting me!!

A very pretty spot right on the edge of a creek and amongst shaded ghost gums.

Already a dozen stronad outfits here as we set up camp, and by evening there were twenty four.

But plenty of space for more, and lots of fireplaces with heaps of dry wood.

It had been cool all day, and after sunset at 5pm lots of fires sprung up and the place was quiet and peaceful.

With only the sounds of nesting birds, the gentle purring of generators and some neighbours playing soft country music.

And cattle that had been wandering round during the day, settling down under a bright star-filled sky.

Hope we find many Mary Pool’s, and off to Fitzroy Crossing tomorrow.

Flyday 16^th May

So it’s Flyday again, and the only runway is some 180 clicks of sealed surface from here to Fitzroy Crossing.

The stronads track through the middle of nowhere.

It was a cold night in the bus at Mary Pool, so we piled on extra fleeces and hides, and stared at the stars in a cloudless sky.

The curfew for stronads is generally 8pm, or 9 at the latest. 

The theory seems to be that you must get Cinderella into the cot by then or the carriage turns into a pumpkin.

Dream on, Prince Charmings.

Up with the sun and cooked up a healthy breakfast of left-over mashed spuds and onions and peas, plus bumnuts and coffee.

All on our gas stove, without firing up the generator.

The resident crows and other avians hung around for breakfast and it was so still we could hear the nearby cattle farting.

Most of the stronads dispersed by 8am, except that little canine monkey with Joan on a leash, and Jim trailing behind as usual.

And the nice couple who had helped me unravel our awning, and later pack it away as the breeze built up.

We packed up and were back on the road by ten, with only 180k to Fitzroy Crossing.

A pretty uninteresting stretch, our only stop being to peer at the Nganampa Cliffs.

Arrived at Fitzroy Crossing at 1pm, refueled and booked into the caravan park at Fitzroy River Lodge.

Right beside the mighty Fitzroy River.

A real oasis in an otherwise inconsequential settlement populated by traditional owners about as many cops.

Just in time for a couple of hamburgers in the bar restaurant at twenty five bucks a piece, but very flash.

Nice and cool in a shaded spot amongst the trees, easily the best caravan park so far.

Quite an enigma in such a woefully depressing community.

In the evening we cooked in the camp kitchen and there in the wall for all to see was a colored frame with moving images that emitted sound and speech.

Alas, it is what is known as a television; an invention of one Logi Beard sometime last century.

After a month, we had almost forgotten.

JL and I landed at Fitzroy Crossing in theUGlyDuckling in 2012 and camped with his brother and sister-in-law here in the park.

There is no fuel between here and Broome, some 300Km, and we will head that way tomorrow and hopefully find another Mary Pool-type free stronads park about half way.

Sunday 17^th May

After Heather completed home duties including our washing, we cooked breakfast in the camp kitchen, while watching that animated picture frame again.

Being Sunday there was little news to behold.

Then off, and over the wide Fitzroy River and its tributaries towards Broome.

There was a sign to two free stronad parks towards Broome, one 56k up the track and the other 185.

Somehow I missed both, so we drove on and stopped to look at a huge boab tree with a tour group of snownads.

They are the ones with white snow on the roof if they have hair at all, and their girls often dye theirs’ a faint tinge of purple.

The snownads were a happy lot enjoying a stop and a cuppa. We mingled with them and it made us feel like teenagers.

I hope we live to be snownads too.

Then on, to the roadhouse at the turnoff to Derby. Topped up with diesel and back on the Savannah Way.

Through vast crops of gigantic anthills, both sides of the road.

In fields the size of Tasmania. Countless trillions of them!

Baked brick hard in the sun.

Convoluted, yet proudly erect, like the dried turds of some alien mammoth.

And other more finely tapered ones, perhaps simply those of their calves.

At 3pm we stumbled into a fine spot for stronads.

Only103k before Broome.

Fine powered red dirt everywhere, which I believe commoners call ‘bull dust’.

But that’s a bit crude for us.

….Today it is two years since John Livsey left us, and a number of followers will remember him fondly.

This evening we will drink a toast to his memory. I’m sure he would prefer it be with single malt, but he enjoyed ‘Minto Mist’ quite a bit also!

Monday 18^th May

Our overnight spot was Nillibubbica and our fuel stop late yesterday was Willare Roadhouse, 56k back.

This morning we managed to scrounge a bit of wood and cooked breakfast on one of the many fireplaces provided.

Then drove the modest 103k to Broome arriving 10am.

To the tourist information centre in town and joined a long queue for a simple map and details of caravan parks.

Booked into a caravan park for a couple of nights.

Not far from the golf club which could be a good option for dinner tonight.

Flew from Darwin to Broome with Heather and DP in 1997 as part of a round Oz trip.

It was a long day flying, and after landing at Wyndham for fuel, we agreed we would call it a day at Derby.

As Heather was sound asleep over Derby, we decided to continue on.

Not a good move, as when she awoke, we were well past Derby.

A seven-hour flight for the day!

I think it is known as a ‘dummy spit’, and the next day in Broome she was going home!

So I posted her back on the ‘burner’!

Now she rarely goes on long flights, but we did compete in a marathon in 2000, raising funds for the royal Flying Doctor Service.

Flying west to Bunbury to start, then ten days over the outback, the ‘centre’, and down into Adelaide.

Dick Smith was one of my sponsors.  Thanks Dick!

Years later I flew into Broome with JL in theUGlyDuckling.  The place had become very busy; an international airport with a tower and all that stuff.

The view on approach over water, and the white sands of Cable Beach, just on dusk, was superb.

Back to terra firma!

However, we are only a stones throw from the airport, with lots of big birds coming and going to Bali and the like, and many more smaller ones taking tourists for local fights.

Another couple doing a lap in a Coaster invited themselves to sit and talk.  Always interesting to swap notes with fellow stronads, but we couldn’t shake them off, and it did temper our plans.

The locals report ‘stingers’ active at Cable Beach, so Heather got out of dipping her toes in salt water.

And I missed the nude beach (officially sign- posted ‘Clothes Optional’—a fascinating place (I’m told).

Where grannies with sun-leathered boobs swinging down to the waist are a popular sight.

Joan and her monkey are probably there!

We did have a dip in the nice park pool.

And drove to the golf club for dinner with our new friends in tow.

The highest point in Broome, and a great spot so watch the sun set over Cable Beach.

The nineteenth hole however had nothing to eat on a Monday and we all ended up in China town with Pizza for us, and fish and chips for they.

The Chinese here have a wide culinary repertoire, I think we’ll have Indian tomorrow.

I can’t adapt to the stronad ‘curfew at eight’, so sat outside in the cool listening to Bach and light music on the ‘puter.                 

While a nice group of young backpackers cooked up their pasta and sat round playing cards in the camp kitchen till around ten.

It’s great to see young people getting about, exploring the world and doing their thing.

Tuesday 19^th May

Not too huge a city to get about, and no real problem parking the bus in the streets.

Thought of hiring a ‘rent-a-bomb’ for a day or so, but decided to we could drive our own, and thus spend the savings on a couple of flash meals.

The crowds haven’t hit town yet.

I believe this will change from 1^st June when more stronads and mums and dads with their dwarfs (grownads), and woofers and backpackers arrive.

May as well live it up before we free camp again going south.

So into town for breakfast of savory pancakes with spinach and tzatziki and piles of smoked salmon.

Real health food, and Heather had a huge bacon and egg and ham and mushroom wrap.

Then visited the local museum.

Lots of historic items and photos from the early pearling days.

And Broome took a real pounding from the Japs on 16^th August 1942.

Ten Catalina flying boats were moored in Roebuck Bay awaiting refueling when the Zeros struck.

They were all destroyed and there were many RAAF and civilian casualties.

Also a Dutch Dakota which was ferrying survivors here from Java.

A few bits have been recovered and the wrecks of the aircraft are visible at very low tide, which only occurs once or thrice a year.

Not this week unfortunately.

Then drove down to Cable Beach for Heathers therapeutic toe in the sea.

Very brave, with all the stingers about!

Have booked an extra day here and will head towards Port Hedland on Thursday.

That’s over 600k, so a couple of days at our pace.

First stop will possibly be a well known Kimberley cattle station some 120k down the track known as Barn Hill, overlooking the Indian Ocean.

Did a big grocery top-up at Woolies, we were getting quite low on 2-minute noodles!

Then into China town again for an entre of the freshest barramundi, and take-away lamb curry from ‘Little India’ to have in our camp for supper.

China town is very cosmopolitan indeed!

Wednesday 20^th May

We have spent most of today resting in our mobile tropical villa.

Except for venturing out to Bunning’s for an LED light for our outdoor entertainment area.

We are next to a permanent looking set up, presently home to a New Zealand couple.

Possibly late fifties.

In a small pop-top van, attached to a camper trailer and tent annex.

A Kiwi flag flying, a huge Harley housed in the annex and fairy lights strung round one side of the van.

And a beaten-up Land Cruiser, for when they move on.

A bit different.

The wife called round for a chap and their tale unfolded.

She (D) gets by with an odd job here and there to sustain them while husband (K) does some public speaking.

Mostly voluntary, but occasionally for ‘pin money’.

Speaking to groups of men at prisons, church groups, men’s sheds and whoever is willing to listen to his lessons on life.

And what a remarkable life.

His father survived the ‘camps’ in Poland during the war, by ruthlessly wielding a knife.

And never got over the terror.

As a very small boy K recalls his Dad herding the family into a corner of the house, turning off the lights and threatening to kill with a blade.

From the age of eight K moved into foster care, then juvenile justice systems and eventually prisons.

By the age of twenty-six he had spent time in seven prisons in New Zealand.

Booze, violence, drugs, gangs, organized crime.

As a chronic, deranged alcoholic, his only real home was the slammer.

Today the hideous ‘tatts’ on his face and arms obviously make him self-conscious.

But K is a survivor, one of the few.

For thirty years he has been ‘clean’, is no longer an alcoholic.

Out here and far from the influence of former colleagues inside.

With his only education the University of hard knocks, he is not too articulate.

His word skills may be limited, but powerful.

Very powerful.

D met him at one of his talks.

They have been happily married for twenty years.

Theirs is a story of survival against all odds.

Tomorrow we leave them and head further south.

And possibly won’t have coverage till we get to Port Hedland in a couple of days.

Thursday 21^st May

On the road at 0900, and towards Port Hedland.

There’s a great stretch of nothing along this edge of the Great Sandy Desert.

Most of the stronads agree. Visitors from o/s must wonder what they’ve struck.

Traveling the length of several European countries without seeing any sign of civilization.

But the roads are busy with travelers, mostly heading north.

Each to his/her own, but it’s bloody hot along this stretch, well over thirty all day.

There’s over 600k between Broome and Hedland, with only one fuel stop at Sandfire Roadhouse, about half way.

For us it’s a three day trip.

We passed the turnoff to Barn Hill, a popular fishing stop right on the coast. Most of the Maules head that way.

And then on to a good free stronad rest stop for the night. 220k for the day.

Lots of fire places, tables and good clean dunnies.

Mr Barnett has signposted them well, this one is called ‘Stanley’, 97k north of Sandfire Roadhouse.

From my logbook I note that I landed at a strip behind the Roadhouse with JL on 17^th June 2012.

Just for a relief stop and a coffee, but there was a green snake in the dunny bowl so we made other arrangements!

En route from Marble Bar to Broome. YSFI is even on the electronic WAC.

By evening there were twenty-five stronad outfits here at Stanley, 150s, 172s, Maules, Bonanzas, Drifters, the lot.

And several grownads tethered to apron strings; perhaps the school holidays have started.

In the cool of the evening Heather is enjoying a cold glass of wine. Just for a change. 

I have abstained all week, so am obliged to partake of a beer tomorrow.

Campsite Butterfly/Moth--slaughtered it with me own bare hands!!

Friday 22nd May

After a superb outback sunset, it was quite windy during the night, and with cloud cover remained very hot and humid.

Left ‘Stanley’ at 7am, to avoid the inevitable heat.

Stopped for breakfast at Sandfire Roadhouse, 100k down the track, and topped up the stagecoach at 1.79/l.

A bit of a reminisce for me with the same tattered peacock strutting about, and their freshly baked signature monster sausage rolls for breakfast.

The boss and his missus were sitting out the front having a fag, with a couple of young German backpackers running the till.

Another minor oasis, on the very long stretch from Broome or Derby to Hedland.

We drove out to the airstrip where I’d landed; you wouldn’t know it existed from the road, but it was sure a welcoming sight from the air three years ago.

Back to ground level.

A further 223k to De Grey River, which we have been told is an excellent overnight stop.

The road remained relentlessly straight, but the landscape changed, through fields of ant hills, lush pasture with cattle grazing beside shaded waterholes.

More crops of ant-hills and miles of greener rises and plains; there have been recent good rains.

With the aircon on in the covered wagon the temperature was comfortable, except for a couple of stops for a stretch, but we left the engine running.

I was expecting perhaps a dried creek bed, but the De Grey River is a mighty affair.

We arrived just after midday, and set up camp above the high water mark.

Then cooked up a healthy lunch of steak, eggs and tomato.  No need for dinner tonight.

Over 25 stronad outfits here by mid-afternoon, but there is a very large area for all to spread out.

Still very humid in the evening and the amateur meteorologists are expecting a downpour soon.

We sat round the campfire till the curfew at eight, and I whittled myself a new mobility aid from a sapling.

Then read the sign that said ‘no fires, or damage to vegetation; maximum fine $250,000’

We’ll leave early tomorrow!

Flyday 23^rd May

The sunrise at 5:30 was brilliant and I’m sure I heard a cockatoo calling out for ‘Eric’. 

Over, and over again.

I dived for the gun, but it was simply a local bird calling it’s mate! 

‘Eric, Eric, Eric’!!

And so away early to avoid any fines.

The vistas are more interesting as we head further south.

Port Hedland is a busy but boring town. The iron ore price may have collapsed, but the infrastructure and mining operations are massive.

For me, no more than as essential stop so stock up with food and diesel.

A huge shopping complex where we got some necessities including ham and egg wraps for breakfast.

And some cheer from the grog shop which only sells ‘handbags’ between two and six pm. Wonder why!

Then drove out past the port area across a causeway to Finucane Island, where Heather worked here last century as a telex operator.

A device for sending messages, at some stage between the invention of the abacas, and the dawn of computers.

And long before white wine was invented.

We passed thehehhe Rio salt mine, and Fortesque Metals’ Herb Elliott (sic.) port.

I know it is Flyday, but I told them to get back to work.

We did pass one loaded iron ore train, two kilometers long.

Let’s hope the Chinese develop their appetite for it again!

One hundred K south of Port Hedland we have stopped for the rest of the day and the night. 207K for the day.

At the Peawah River stronads roadside park.

Still very humid, but it looks like the rains are coming!

Maybe tonight.

Sunday 24^th May

It did rain lightly during the night, and it is still very humid.

Chatted with a few experienced stronads here, with some good clues for more overnight stops down the track.

These folk always free-camp, and only go into towns to shop.

And an occasional caravan park for the monthly bath.

This free camping is the way to go. Usually beside wide dry or running rivers, white river gums and birds everywhere.

Even some feathered ones!

Only the sounds of the fires crackling and the glasses clinking at dusk.

Headed off early again, hoping to have breaky at the Whim Creek pub, a unique little gem a couple of hundred metres off the road, only 26k south.

As we pulled in there and started to walk towards the pub, the lights were flicked off!

Not much of a welcome.

A couple of stronads who had free camped here told us ‘the pub was rocking last night and the boss would have a giant hangover, and would be off back to bed!’

Fair enough.

So drove on to Roebourne and called into a roadhouse for a coffee and a kranski each.

Cooked a week ago I think.

Turned in towards Karratha, but a very long wait with mining vehicles and road trains banked up waiting to pass road works.

After waiting half an hour, we turned round and back on the Great Northern Highway further south.

The scenery has changed, with flat lush plains and harsh rock formations, which are possibly pure iron ore.

A lot of mining in the area, and we called into Fortesque Roadhouse for fuel. I asked to see Twiggy, but he had taken the day off.

Also several huge gas plants being fed from off-sure rigs.

And it rained all day, and later got heavy.

We camped at Robe River 44k south of Fortesque River.

And took in the ancient rock art!

It the late afternoon the clouds built up again and several giant claps of thunder sent the dogs scattering.

It cleared later and we sat round a campfire with a nice friendly couple we have met further back.

Sippin’ ‘Minto Mist’ and tellin’ dreadful lies.

Ah, what a life!!

Add caption

Translation: 'White fella not very clever, him think rock art 30,000 years old. But me go down shop last week, buy acrylic paint
with sit-down money. Now he think special art, so him bugger off, me have land again'.

Monday 25^th May

In no hurry to leave as our next stop is less than 200k today.

A big cook-up for breakfast and we won’t bother with lunch, but have ‘lunner’ mid-afternoon instead.

Stopped at Nanuturra Roadhouse to top up the diesel and drain the spuds.

We heard a couple of blokes bagging the place on the CB’s, ‘I got a tiny cup of soup there last time and they wanted an arm and a leg’.

The diesel was 1.78/l, about par for the course up here.

And we gave the soup a miss.

Just past Nanuturra we came across a mangled small sedan.

Some local on the CB thought is must have been recent, but wasn’t a fatal as the cops haven’t put a cordon around it yet.

Possibly collected a cow or a camel, as there aren’t any power poles about.

Just past that, another RFDS ‘runway’ on the road with piano keys a kilometer apart and all vegetation cleared on both sides.

We pulled into Barradale Rest stop, just 200k for the day.

Four outfits here, and more pulling in later as evening approached.

With plenty of room to spread out beside this wide, dry river bed.

One young stronad called by for a chat; he’s also a Brictorian.

A Brictorian? From Rosebud.

It seems some of the uncouth from the most recent subdivision of Southern Wales call us Brictorians! Or perhaps it is Prictorians?

I can live with that one!

Tuesday 26^th May

There were some interesting cloud formations just on dusk last evening and it looked like a possible storm brewing.

But a cool crisp morning at Barradale and there were over 25 stronad outfits here, scattered over a very wide area.

After cornflakes and coffee we headed off towards Coral Bay.

Some seventy K down the Great Northern Highway we turned towards the Coral Coast of WA.

Came across a huge snake in the middle of the road. I backed up to take a cautious look and a Bonanza going the opposite direction stopped also.

It looked deceased but we weren’t too sure, so approached carefully to take a photo.

Should have put a box of matches or similar beside it for an indication of scale, but it would have been about two metres long.

I checked into the very large Bay View caravan park, having phoned for a booking yesterday.

The park here is packed.  It’s a beautiful spot but a bit ‘tourie’ for me; I do prefer the bush!

The ogre in reception was very efficient but not very friendly.

After reading the riot act about noise, curfew at ten, no dogs or monkeys, she accepted payment and handed me a map with our spot marked.

And called out ‘next please’.  I guess Joan won’t be staying here!

We are meeting some good friends here today.

They arrived in a Bonanza just as I left reception.

And have been traveling the ‘wrong’ way around on this lap.

We found our spot and promptly headed for the showers before infecting them.

A new flash bar-restaurant opposite the park has cold beer on tap, it was getting pretty hot so we all headed there for a chat and a drink.

I had a nap in the afternoon and the others went down to the beach.

And Heather claims to have had a dip in the Indian Ocean at last!

In the evening we all had a great meal at Billys’ over the road.

Us blokes had fish curry and the girls, reef and beef. Beautifully presented in the new indoor-outdoor dining area under sails, with the stars above.

And we caught up on our travel stories and told a few half-truths.

27^th May

A coffee and chat with our friends at their Bonanza, and after farewells, the ogre running the park chased us out at ten.

Heather couldn’t resist a fresh beef and reef pie from the little bakery opposite. They operate with an income tax exemption, as they don’t have a credit card reader.

Great for business, which is flourishing!

We only had a 100k drive south to our next riverbed camp at Minilya, some 200k north of Canarvon.

Topped up diesel at the roadhouse, then across the bridge and into our park.

Almost first choice of spots, with a fireplace, a table and just out of each of the huge widow-makers.

Beside a wide near-dry river, with huge white-gums.

And a wedge-tailed eagle souring above.

 

I cooked up fettuccine with bacon, tomato and onions for tea and we sat round the fireplace to feast.

With a wine and a beer and the flies.

Lots of flies.

An attractive young German couple set up camp close by, and Heather remarked ‘they will have beautiful children!’ I had to agree.

After dinner I stoked up the fire and sat up watching TV till late.

My kind of telly! Just the sounds of birds roosting, the crackle of fire and the stillness and silence.

Perhaps something has happened somewhere, but as long as our family and friends are OK it doesn’t really matter.

Just after the ‘late news’, we were visited by the International Space Station; surely an omen of peace.

It tracked across a star-filled cloudless sky from about south-west to north-east.

I turned down the telly and slept like a log.

It will still be on in the morning!

Thursday 28^th May

The telly was still on standby in the morning. So I turned up the volume gently, and we heated the fettuccini for breakfast.

The beautiful people left early in their hired C150 (Apollo).  Both Apollo and Blitz must be booming with all the European stronads.

Most in their twenties to thirties. 

We will call them glownads.

Highly gonadotrophic.

And so we almost have the full stronad spectrum clarified.

Grownads— simply, dwarfs on a leash.

Blownads—Young bucks in their beaten up bombs, late arrivals at camp and serious exponents of doof-doof music. They often just stop for a pee, or to open another can.

Glownads—eighteen to forties. Usually in pairs, often one of each gender and many form Europe.

Stronads—The genuine original variety, and head of the pack. Fifty to ninety, mostly Australian, unemployed, retired or working for centrelink. We fit comfortably there!

Snownads—Including some greynads, usually on busses. Serious tea drinkers; but usually cupboard drinkers at night. And why not!

Back to our travels.

Drove on to Carnarvon and past huge plots of market gardens growing bananas, mangoes, and zucchini.

Many have been damaged by the recent rains and cyclones.

We stocked up on essentials; a few groceries from IGA, a handbag, diesel and a sit-down coffee and wrap for lunch. But not paid with sit down money.

Then visited the Space Museum.

A fascinating place which Buzz Aldrin opened a couple of years ago. The giant dish here was pivotal in tracking the original manned Gemini spacecraft, and later the Apollo programme.

A live-tracking display for the I.S.S. confirmed I had seen it last night, and not just an apparition.

A great collection of early earth-space communications, staffed by just two volunteers.

Then on a further eighty k south to our camp site called Edagee.

Many stronads here, but a huge area with lots of fireplaces, but not much wood.

And lots of flies. Quite a plague in fact.

But they all vanished at dusk.

Enter Andreaus from Crete. Originally from Crete years ago, but now an Australian by choice. 

Came wandering past each set-up, and invited everyone to his fire for a ‘bush party’.

After dinner we accepted his invitation. A very friendly chap.

A dozen or more sat round his fire, made from a cut-down gas bottle.

We all swapped lies, what a great way to socialize.

And, so off to bed. What a great night!

Friday 29^th May

Last night a friendly Dutch couple gave us a WA Roads guide to roadside parks.

This beats Camps Australia 8,9 or 10 hands down!

Every free campsite is clearly marked with distance and details of ‘facilities’!

Well done, Premier Col.

So off again with a clear idea of our next stop for the night.

Stopped for breakfast at the Overlander Roadhouse, an oasis in the middle of very hungry country.

A tin shed from outside, but very clean and tidy and exceptionally well kept amenities.

A homemade sausage roll and coffee here. Huge sausage rolls with onions and carrots and all that healthy stuff. And very fresh.

Overlander is at the turn-off to Shark Bay and Denham—been there, done that in the UGlyDuckling, so decided to give it a miss.

But did stop at a lookout on the top of a rise, overlooking shark bay. Several home-made cairns here, mostly junk but some with personal mementos.

Also the track to Hamlin Inlet and the stromatilites—nothing to do with stronads; but apparently some kind of living ‘coral’, regarded as most ancient living thing on earth.

Didn’t bother, I just have to look in the mirror.

So we tracked further south and stopped for the night at Nerrin Nerrin, a designated stronad park.

Only two others here when we parked, but well over twenty by dusk including many Bonanzas, C172s, C150s, Piper Tommies, a Drifter or two and a Cessna Citation!!

Flyday 30^th May

And so it’s Flyday again, and not a propeller in sight.

Back on the road we encountered the exodus form Perth. Streams and streams of refugees heading north.

A bit like something from Steinbeck.

Not only stronads, we know they all escape the cold for three months and head for the nude beaches at Broome.

But it’s some sort of holiday weekend in the West and the south lane is deserted.

The scenery became more interesting during the day.

From desert and sand and saltbush to cleared open land.

With crops of wheat springing up after wet season rains.

And dairy cattle and sheep grazing on good green pasture.

We stopped at the Murchison River for a short break. A couple of early escapees were canoeing with others enthusiastically drowning worms.

Then on to the old-world little town of Northampton.

A township committee ensures it is kept neat and tidy and attractive for visitors.

A great IGA, where we got some provisions at very fair prices.

Lots of Cafés and ‘op shops’ and quaint stone buildings, including three pubs.

Then on further to Geralton, a city of some 30,000 which seems to be thriving with many new homes overlooking the beach.

And yes, theUGlyDuckling has been here on the return from an east-west trip, YLHI to Dirk Hartog Island!!

And the exodus continued as we headed further south to our overnight camp at Arrowsmith.

Almost on our own here except for a couple of glownads in a C150 and a Bonanza parked further into the bush.

With a heap of dry firewood we soon had the telly roaring and I cooked up a feast of ‘Arrowsmith Stew’!

Spuds and carrots and peas and onions and chopped up beef snags and a cup of Italian pasta sauce!

A feast fit for a king.

It was quite cold at night, so rugged up in the coach we both slept like royalty.

Sunday 31^st May

It’s Sunday, the customary day of rest.  And after constructing all the earth and the sky and birds and the bees and the oceans and seas a day off on full pay was certainly earned.

So we were quietly resting and preparing to be breaking our fast when along came John.

He was alone and had just dropped in to attend to the call of nature.

John wandered over and shook hands and introduced himself and it soon became apparent we were in for a sermon of kinds.

We heard of his past full of wild women and an addiction to booze and to telephone sex and strange ungodly things.

One night after a session of self-induced unconsciousness he awoke with a hangover of biblical proportions.

And there through the mist and the foetid breath came a flash of lightening and the beckoning hand of the bloke upstairs.

We heard of this revelation in great detail and his subsequent reform and devotion to god.

And his moment of awakening as he sat lotus-style at the front of the kirk singing praise.

A moment he re-enacted for us on the bare concrete slab of the bbq shelter.

Then with a blessing and smile he was off to his car; but to return in a moment to hand us a battered bible he says he found in the tip!

As he drove off, he paused again and handed Heather a couple of bananas and a handful of oranges.

A small offering of peace, and he was away.

And all this on the morning we have planned to drive on to New Norcia.

It was established by Spanish Benedictine monks in 1846 and remains the only totally monastic town in Australia.

Astonishing collection of Spanish-style architecture, established in such a remote site some 180k north-west of Perth.

The monks are self-sufficient in most aspects growing grain, baking bread, making wine and crushing their own olives.

The place is now an historic village, and a popular tourist spot.

Being a long weekend it was packed.

We camped here on their oval for a meagre ten bucks. And visited the former ‘Visitors Residence’, which is now a flourishing pub!

After two glasses of Abbey Ale we slept peacefully in our mobile cathedral.

Ah, what a Sunday!!

Monday 1^st June

The Abbey bells rang at four thirty, it was time for the monks to rise. Prayers at five, quiet time for a while, breakfast at six, more prayers and then off to the fields or the olive or wine press, until lunch at twelve.

And no doubt one of their flock would be off to the counting house to add up the takings from a successful weekend at the pub and the gift shop.

All for a good cause.

We rose a bit later, the camp here is such a quiet and peaceful place.

Could their solitude be rubbing off?

We finally left New Norcia and drove on through the hilly country north east of Perth.

A pleasant drive through the Avon Valley, part of the rich wheat belt of the west.  At one stage we were within 85k of Perth.

But that’s close enough and we pulled into Northam, and set up camp at the aeroclub.

JL and I flew in here and spent three nights ‘weathered in’ with the locals.

The club is thriving and will host the World ballooning championships later this year.

Very friendly people, and a great clubhouse and bar.

Quite a busy strip, only about half an hour in a 172 to Jandakot, and lots of students come in on navs.

We will head off tomorrow towards Kalgoolie, a couple of days away.

Tuesday 2^nd June

Down into town for provisions and fuel. Northam is a prosperous town with a huge wheat industry, a rail-head and much general activity.

Spent some time in the shops, probably our last bit of civilization until we are over the Nullabor.

Except for Kalgoolie.

We then drove on towards Kal on excellent sealed roads. Heaps of trucks but few stronads out this way.The rail

and the water pipe to Kal follow the road for over 400k. Through the heart of the wheat belt.

Past small whistle-stops every 50k or so,and a couple of uninviting camp sites.

Vast wheat fields and sheep, and is much more interesting from above!

Arrived at a great bush caravan park at a speck of a place called Southern Cross.

Can’t get a more Aussie name than that.

The park has a small camp kitchen, hot showers and a bush backyard that goes on for miles.

And a superb outback shed called the Rec. Room, which even has one of those talking picture machines.

I think we are now out of the ‘heat-wave zone’; and it’s quite cool this far south.

Covered 281k today and off towards Kalgoolie tomorrow.

The shop windows have interesting wares there!!

Look, but don’t touch, I’ve been told!!

Wednesday 3^rd June

Raked the tumbleweeds out of the beard and headed off towards Kalgoolie in the cool of the morning.

And it is quite cool; almost need to change out of shorts for a while.

From Southern Cross onwards the wheat belt has ended and the landscape is stark and non-productive.

No sheep or cattle, no cultivated land, no grasses. No sign of life except for a camel or two, and a squashed emu beside the road.

And very few stronads.

And the pipeline goes on for miles; long with the rail and the phone lines.

Through Coolgardie which is not much more than  ghost town today.

Kalgoolie-Boulder is a bit more prosperous with thousands of miners, many of whom permanently dwell in the caravan parks.

The truckies and miners are cunningly  cautious of cops, and keep swapping notes on the CB’s.

I usually just listen, but occasionally call them for a radio check.

Have flown into here twice, and circled above the giant ‘super-pit’. We will have a look at it as we leave tomorrow.

Booked into a park for a clean-up, and a cook-up in the camp kitchen.

Watched the picture machine for a while and chatted to a few of the locals, most of whom are itinerants anyway.

Quite a few here are compulsive prospectors, optimists tramping around with metal detectors.

One bloke has a detector which cost $10,700; hope he can pay it off.

Couldn’t find Hay Street, so phoned up for take-away instead.

She didn’t turn up, so I’ve saved about five bucks again!

Thursday 4^th June

As we were about to leave camp I noticed the LH rear tires seemed a bit soft.

Thought perhaps the ‘house-call’ bird had turned up after all, and slashed me tires!

Called at several servos to check the pressures but none had the fitting for inflating dual wheels.

Then chanced upon Beaurepairs truck depot where they were busy fitting twenty new tires to a road train, for a cool six thousand dollars.

Our turn came, and the blokes got to work.

Only minor trouble with the rubbers this time.

But not bad for the trip, as we’ve covered over 9,000k now.

 The inside left rear tire was well down, so off with both wheels and a repair to the tube.

All pressures checked; 70psi rear, 65 front.

Only cost $35, which I thought remarkably little for the time they had spent.

Then up to the Super-Pit.

We’ve heard ‘Bondie’ has been gravely ill, I hope he makes it, however this is (one) huge monument to him.

This massive man-made crater makes a long-drop look like a pin-hole.

And so it was afternoon before we left Kalgoolie and 176k down the track, pulled into a great camp a few clicks north of Norseman.

The trees here are painted gloss red, or perhaps it’s ‘mission brown’.

And plenty of wood for a fire.

We were the pioneers here, and four other outfits joined later.

Just after dusk an ore-train came rumbling through and in the moonlight I counted (about) 185 loaded trucks, which would make it just on 2k long.

With four engines doing the work.

Sat up till ten in the cool, watching that special bush HD TV!

....and one from the air, 2012

Friday 5^th June

This morning I chatted with a neighbor who had camped nearby with a great fire roaring till late.

Obviously a seasoned bushman, and if I had known he was traveling alone would have asked him to join us.

It’s the people we meet that make this form of travel more interesting.

Lost his wife of forty-seven years, only three months ago. They had been planning this trip for years, and he had spent ages preparing their rig.

He was delighted to chat with us and I re-filled his coffee mug as we talked and swapped notes.

Lone travelers seem on the increase and some of their stories are sad.

I think they should be called Lonads and their passion to explore is to be admired.

As he left us he smiled and suggested that ‘one day I might find someone silly enough to continue the journey with me’.

I hope that he does.

We drove on to Norseman, the nominal start of the Nullabor.

Stocked up at the local IGA and noted the indigenous art and craft shop was abandoned.

Not much of a town, but the last for a l-o-n-g stretch.

Drove on to a camp spot only some 100k west of Balladonia. Near Lake Cowan, a huge dried lake which stretches for miles.

There are still many abors here to make nullas with, and we soon had a roaring fire to warm by. It is only a few degrees north of ice during the nights.

Flyday 6^th June

And so it’s yet another Flyday with little chance of a fly or a lie! But a pretty good chance of a pie down the track for lunch.

Our camp spot last night was in part of the Fraser Ranges. Not very high peaks, but an occasional rise, with very flat dried lakebeds nearby.

The fire still had hot ashes and we soon revved it up and cooked steak, eggs and tomatoes in a pan on the flames.

Then on to Balladonia, one of the many oases across the Nullabor.

An extensive roadhouse, with ‘motel rooms’, a shop, a bar and a ‘restaurant’.

And a small museum, which includes some pieces of the SkyLab, which burned, up and fell back to earth near here  in1979.

It was meant to be a controlled re-entry into the Indian Ocean but was a bit off course!!

The Yanks Grand Poobah contacted our Grand Poobah to apologies!

We couldn’t resist their fresh homemade pies and so indulged in an early lunch!

All the roadhouses in the bush have made a culinary name for themselves with these Aussie icons.

Some more so than others!

Further down the track we passed another RFDS emergency runway on the road.

All vegetation cleared on both sides of a 2km strip of road, with piano keys and turning nodes at each end.

The on to the to the famous straight stretch, ninety miles without one single bend!

With no corners to negotiate it was time for Heather to attempt her endorsement on a bus.

She didn’t do too bad and completed eight k’s without any drama!

Lots of squashed roos from the trucks during the night, and even one dead camel.

We have camped off that straight stretch, some sixty clicks from Caiguna.

This spot is quite popular, and we have proved that you can have a good fire on the Nullabor, provided you bring a few logs, which we collected way back!

In the morning we’ll have breakfast at Caiguna.

Heather can’t wait for their ‘hamburgers with the lot’, truckie size!

We flew into Caiguna in 2000, and landed behind the roadhouse.

The hamburgers were massive!

Sunday 7^th June

That dwarf carriage I sat in last night was a bit of a mystery.

It contained a kids lunchbox with lots of ephemera inside and a ‘log-book’.

It was a ‘geocache', Mr Google knows all about it! We signed the logbook, and returned it unscathed.

I think the dwarf carriage was unrelated!!

And so after we thawed and the thick fog lifted, it was on to Caiguna.

The breakfast didn’t disappoint. 

Heather struggled through the hamburger and I had a giant mug of very fresh pea and ham soup.

Good for the plumbing.

This place is very popular with truckies who deserve plenty of sustenance.

Checked out the airstrip which is in excellent condition and regularly used by the RFDS.

Diesel was 1.89/l and Avgas 3.24

We didn’t need either, so on to Cocklebiddy and topped up there.

Forgot me golf sticks!!

Passed another two RFDS emergency road-runways, each some 1500 meters long.

Bountiful road kill between Cocklebibby and Mandura—literally hundreds of small roos, cleaned up by trucks during the night.

Then on to the Madura roadhouse for a late lunch, and camped at a spot along the Madura pass.

An interesting range of hills that extends for miles and breaks up the Nullabor drive.

There are still plenty of abors on this section of the Nullabor, so we collected a few and made a small camp fire.

And it was bloody feezing during the night!

Monday 8^th June

I think it’s Liz’s birthday back home, but they haven’t heard about it over here yet.

We polished off the rest of our wog for breakfast. With coffee and toast.

And the crows hung around for the scraps.

On through Mundrabilla, and the scenery continued to be ever changing, interesting and not treeless for the first 100k or so.

I was beginning to feel that the drive across the Nullabor was much more interesting than anticipated when on a further 100k we came to Eucla and the S.A. border at ‘Border Village’.

From here on the plain became treeless and relentlessly boring, except for views of the ocean, and the high cliffs of the bight.

Several RFDS road-runways again, each 50k or so appart, and a long dirt strip below the lookout at Eucla.

A further 180k to Nullabor Motel, where we camped nearby for the night.

JL and I flew in here in 2012 and we camped in one of their converted shipping containers.

A pretty depressing place!

And we flew out to look at the whales nearby.

Avgas today, 3.40/l but we got diesel at 1.82!

And the sign here says the ‘Western End of the Treeless Plain’!!!

Oh dear!

Tuesday 9^th June

Slept well in our van beside the Nullabor Roadhouse, even though it had ‘rained’ during the night.

The ground was almost damp, possibly their annual rainfall.

Headed off east from the ‘Western End of the Treeless Plain’.

Not many arbors out this way, and the whole South Australian section is seriously lacking in facilities.

What a contrast to those provided in the West.

At the ‘Head of the Bight’ we drove in the 12k to a whale-viewing platform—just another tourist rip-off!

A bit further on we came across a young German cycling his way across to the West.

He had ridden through Germany and Europe, then Asia and was now doing a lap of Australia.

Seemed quite perplexed at what he had struck out here! And was getting low on water, but only a further 59k to the Nullabor Roadhouse.

And it was starting to drizzle, and continued all day!

We drove on through Yalata; a pitiful shell of a former roadhouse and park. ‘Owned’ by our heroes, now closed, boarded up and fenced and abandoned.

Yalata is now a ‘community’, extending over a reserve of 500,000 hectares.

No luck finding a camping spot as we drove on through Nundroo.

This section of the ‘plain’ is prolific wheat country and extends past Penong and almost to Ceduna.

At the edge of Ceduna our fruit was confiscated at a quarantine post, looks like what happens further west doesn’t rate as a threat to SA crops!

Have booked into a great park at Ceduna for a couple of nights.

Right on the foreshore.

For some serious R & R; to visit the shearer, and to re-stock the larder.

Have flown through here thrice—a nice little town with an economy based on oyster farming, and a deep-sea port from which salt and grain are shipped.

Wednesday 10^th June

Nothing much happens in caravan parks.

But the camp kitchen is the heart of the park and the gathering and meeting place.

Last night it was packed pretty early.

Most digging in to their tea, others busy preparing their meal.

With a huge wide screen TV that everyone was watching, but no-one listening to.

I arrived with a pan full of onions and bacon, and plonked it down at the front bench.

Almost mechanically, everyone looks up when someone arrives.

Just couldn’t resist the moment, and blurted out loud and clear: ‘good evening folks, and welcome to Master Chef’!

The knives and folks froze in mid-air, and everyone looked up expectantly.

And then burst into laughter.

Fortunately for me, I guess!

Then back to the cooking, eating and not watching TV!

So to become incognito again, I did visit the shearer today and she earned her rewards by removing the fleece in its entirety.

And now it’s the coldest day since we started out!

We had lunch at the pub next door, also owned by the caravan park people.

And they also own the ‘Celebrations’ franchise next door.

It’s all fenced off with high wire and sliding electric gates to keep us in, and the‘others’ out!

Great views over the bay just on sunset.

Many here seem to be in some sort of holding pattern, preparing themselves to head west.

While others like us are adjusting to the end of the real outback and a return to some sort of civilization.

But tomorrow we’ll be back in the bush, hoping to find a quiet camping spot and a fire to warm up the soul.

Thursday 11^th June

Had our steroids topped up at the pharmacy, and bought a fresh loaf of bread from the baker next door.

Then back on the stronad track, and it seems most are setting out West.

Through several small whistle stops.

Poochera, Minnipa, Wudinna and Kyancutta.

Each pretty nondescript, and with unlikely claims to fame.

We have now seen the giant whale, the giant wombat and even the giant cockatoo.

Yes, I shot that bastard!!

Minnipa has a wharf that goes nowhere!  Years ago it lead to an inland lake, which has long disappeared. 

They call the place ‘The town with a Secret’!  Not a very well kept secret.

Perhaps Wudinna tops the lot with their famous Concrete Crappa!

But they all have huge silos and the wheat crops are beginning to shoot.

Again, no well labeled stronad rest spots in South Australia; no designated crow-cooking fireplaces or bogs.

But we found a good spot well down the track, about eighty clicks west of Kimba, which is meant to be the ‘half-way across Australia’ speck.

Cooked steaks on the open fire and sat round it till late.

And it got very cold!

Friday 12^th June

Adjusted the test pattern early with a couple of fresh twigs.

The coals were still hot from last night.

A few other stronads here left early, but we warmed up by the fire with coffee and toast.

And on through this prolific wheat belt which seemed to fizzle out at Kimba.

Stopped here for sustenance and a break.

Resisted Rosie’s’ fresh crow, and noted the nearby airport!

Had a great bowl of pumpkin soup, and Rosie also does roast chicken!

And met a mum and daughter from nearby Poochera, on their way to Adelaide.

Nothing much on the radar for camping, between here and Port Augusta, which is not really an option.

They suggested we try Nuttbush Retreat, some 45k west of Augusta.

Not far past Iron Knob we came to Nuttbush.

Named after the owners.

We found it, and called in for the night.

And what a gem!

A 2,500,000-hectare sheep station with a caravan park on the side.

Over ten stronad outfits ended up here.

The station has just shorn 17,000 merinos, and is also looking at running a few dorfers for meat.

Not much feed for stock, but they seem to do well on saltbush alone.

We had a look at the thirteen-stand shearing shed, and relaxed in the rec. room, in front of a great open fire.

And watching ‘The Antique Road Show’ on the telly!!!

Should be more places like this!!

Flyday 13^th June

Yet another grounded Flyday!!

So we took flight from Pandurra Station and headed further East.

The property extends a further thirty km, almost to Port Augusta.

Miles and miles of saltbush, but the stock seem to be doing well.

After 11,000km we rejoined the road we first passed through on the way north, at Port Augusta.

But only for ten clicks or so.

Then on towards Peterborough, on the Barrier Highway.

Over the Flinders Ranges and stopped at Horrocks Lookout.

Then through Orroroo and checked out the ‘Giant Tree’!

Exciting stuff!

Out affair with the real outback is almost over for now!!

We followed the fringe of the ‘Goyder Line’ to Peterborough.

An arbitrary line, dividing good agricultural land, from marginal lizard country.

Stopped for coffee and tucka here at an amazing old converted picture theatre.

What a gem; with the original solid sloping floor to roll the Jaffas down, lead-light windows up in the ‘gods’ each side of the projection box, marble entrance and even the ‘box office’ still intact.

Closed in 1979, but still occasionally used for special functions.

Then on towards Burra, and pondered why all the ruined stone buildings are abandoned, amongst extensive fields of wheat.

Must ask Dr Google about that!!

Having almost given up on finding a camp spot, we chanced upon Mt Bryan.

In the rural Shire of Goyder.

A tiny spot, with a pub and a post office, and a population of some ten.

And a welcoming free camp-site for RV’s.

We gathered some sticks and cooked up our tea, then adjourned to the pub and their open fire.

As did the other free-camping stronads.

Sunday 14^th June

Left our camp spot at Mt Bryan early, for a long drive today.

It seems we could be back in Victoria tonight, and perhaps our last camp in the bus for this trip.

We drove on to Burra for breakfast, but there was nobody home.

A quaint little hamlet but deserted today.

And so on to Morgan, an historic old port town on the Murray.

The bakery was opened with a large sign out the front: ‘Worms for Sale’.

So in response to the owners’ ‘Can I help you?’ I replied with  ‘Yes, I’d just like one worm’!

She was ready for that one, and the banter went on for a while.

We finally settled for fresh homemade pies and she wished me farewell with ‘I hope you enjoy the cockroaches’!

The pies were great, ‘roaches or not!

Then on through miles of saltbush country to Renmark, and crossed the Murray and were ‘Welcomed’ to Victoria!

It seems the stronads have all gone outback.

With only a lone straggler here and there.

Along the Sturt Highway through tumbleweed country, turning south at the edge of Mildura to a roadside camp near Red Cliffs.

And enjoyed a great campfire for the night.

Monday 15^th June

Our final day on the road for now, and it rained for the first 200 clicks. 

I’m sure the wheat and sheep cockies will be rolling about in the red mud with glee.

Couldn’t resist stopping at Wycheproof, where we owned the pharmacy for a couple of years.

Perhaps as the result of a pre-senior moment!

It’s been relocated and dolled up a bit, but was great for us both at the time.

And so as the ‘Road Show’ draws to a close, there is much ahead to be planned.

There’s salami to make and a home fire to light, and I love the welcoming view from the top of our drive.

A winter flight north is planned for the midst of July.

After a couple of weeks R&R here at home.

Now where did I leave the keys to theUGlyDucking??

Ah! there in me pocket as usual!!