Author: Mrs A
Thursday – Location: Karumba Point
The news of Mark’s mum’s passing and all the planning of funeral, wake, travel and all associated details had left us tired, so we decided to book in for another night. Mark spent an emotional morning writing a eulogy, and we visited the shops in Karumba for a freshly baked sourdough loaf.
The afternoon continued in the same vein, with a short walk around the area trying to spot the elusive brolgas, ever present while in a car travelling at speed, but mysteriously vanishing when on foot with a camera. Away from the coast the land is sparsely vegetated, a low lying flood plain covered in saltbush, surrounded by gumtrees on the higher ground.
After showers, we headed out to the Sunset Tavern, nestled along the coast at Karumba Point with a perfect westerly view across the Gulf towards the setting sun. We ordered dinner, a bottle of drinkable white wine and sat back to enjoy the show.
Friday – Location: Karumba to Gregory Downs
We hitched up and farewelled the fresh salty air and headed back south, into the hot dusty Savannah. We called into Normanton one final time for some expensive eggs and fuel, before hitting the road. We were unsure as to whether we would make it all the way to Gregory Downs, but the choice of roadside camps was pretty limited and unappealing.
Gregory is not a destination in itself for us, rather a half way point on our way to Boodjamulla (Lawn Hill) National Park, an oasis in the desert.
We pulled up at the free riverside camp in Gregory at around 3pm and it was heaving! It is Queensland school holidays, but I have to say we only saw a couple of children – the rest being nomads, like us – perhaps escaping the more popular coast. We managed to park up at what looked like to be the last space.
Gregory is a tiny little settlement, it has public toilets, a pub and a tiny shed which is apparently the general store. It sits on a crossroads – heading west you reach the Century zinc mine site, Adels Grove and Boodjamulla, and eventually the Barclay Highway. Heading north, the road leads to Burketown, and east to four-ways and the Burke and Wills (for the non Australians, named after a couple of European explorers) roadhouse. The landscape surrounding it is dry and dusty, with scrawny looking cattle occasionally spotted in the scrub.
The popular free-camp is alongside the crystal clear waters of the Gregory River. The tall gum trees, palms and ferns made it look like a real oasis. We saw several people cooling off in the waters, some floating down the current on inflatables.
We ambled up the road to check out the pub, but it didn’t look very inviting. It really wouldn’t take much to give it a lick of paint, a few plants, benches perhaps. Maybe our expectations are too high? But I’m certain if it looked more appealing there would be a lot more visitors. There would have been around 25 caravans and campers in the free camp – at least 50 people. If only half of those went up to the pub for a sundowner each night that would certainly bring in some funds that would soon provide payback for any expenditure on basic decorations and improvements. But no. People stayed at camp, including us.
Despite being relatively crowded, it was very peaceful and we had a good night’s sleep.
Before long we had backed the caravan into the workshop and Mr A was inflating tyres as Bushy did his work, welding the new brackets to the front right hand side of the van. He did a thorough check of all the other brackets, and added some extra weld where he felt needed the strength.
By the time we pulled out at about 10.30am we felt happy that all was securely in place and Bushy reassured us it should stay that way for the foreseeable future.
The air feels lest dusty up here, and it is so good to see the ocean again.
There’s a lovely looking Tavern right on the water front, with a surprisingly interesting menu. It has a large beer garden overlooking the water and sunset, and we have earmarked a couple of seats for tomorrow afternoon.
We returned to camp to watch the sunset over the wetlands, before making dinner with our fresh veg. We watched the whistling kids flying in for the fish scraps being shared by those lucky enough to catch something today. The birds swooped down and caught snacks tossed in the air – quite a sight.
Mr A had more funeral arrangements to make and accomodation to book in the UK…I dread to see what our mobile phone bill will be this month after all these calls! This is a beautiful change of scenery for us though, and we think we’ll enjoy our stay here.
We stuck around for a couple of rounds of lassoing bullocks and bull riding, before heading back to camp.
While at the butchers yesterday we had been recommended to head back to the rodeo grounds this evening for dinner. What occasion could be bigger than the town’s Rodeo? So off we went…
We had a selection of dishes from a buffet and a couple of spirits from the bar. It felt a bit like being at a country wedding where we didn’t know anyone. We sat up high in the bleachers and people watched… so many stetsons! Yeah hah!
As the day drew to a close we chatted to our neighbours, a lovely family from Broome. They very kindly gave us a strap to help tie up our suspension to counteract the impact of lack of shocks. Mick (the tour guide from yesterday’s gorge trip) came down and used his mechanic’s experience to ensure we were sufficiently strapped to the right spots to enable us to limp out tomorrow.
From there we called into the local pub The ‘Wenaru’ Hotel…as in “‘When are you’ going to finish building it?” Apparently.
The 30 degree day cooled to a 13 degree night and we slept well.
I then spent a very stressful afternoon trying to figure out with Zone and their suspension supplier (both who were super helpful) what had gone wrong and how we would get it fixed in this remote location.
We climbed up high on the walls of the gorge and admired the views from above, imaginations going wild with the shapes of the rocks. Can you spot the crocodile?
We then climbed into the boats and set off along the gorge. Mick explained about the geology that had formed this narrow gorge, with the layers of sandstone washed down through the inland sea being cracked open, and we were in one of those cracks. If you are a geologist please excuse me, but that was my drift.
Tourism here has brought many economic and social benefits for the local communities that were really struggling through drought and depressed cattle prices. It’s great to see entrepreneurs doing this out here. Small shops, pubs, caravan parks, and servos (petrol stations) all benefiting. Mick even said “people are taking more care of their yards now”. A returning sense of pride…awesome.
Our washing machine has not worked since the end of May, so we have been pretty tied to campground washers – of variable quality. Our first task was to get a sack of washing done, including our sheets and towels. Sadly, one of the machines did not spin, and our washing came out absolutely sopping wet (it took some pieces three days to dry!). So frustrating, and not helped by the continuing showery weather.
It wasn’t long after that our friends Bob and Ann Gadd arrived to join us for lunch. We last saw them down in Adelaide where they live during the warmer months – this time of year they are found in their apartment in Port Douglas, escaping the cool South Australian winter. We ambled along the street, catching up on news and found a cafe for lunch. Lots of laughs were had, stories told, and maps looked at to help us plan for our next few weeks.
After saying farewell to them, we returned to the Zone to find more Zoners were in town!
The market was great too. Alongside the stalls of fresh-from-the-farm vegetables and herbs were bakers, jewellers, artists (including musicians, painters, woodworkers, ceramic workers and potters), massage therapists, plants of all varieties, flowers and even fertilised eggs, chicks and chickens for sale. It all felt very authentically country.
Again, we didn’t get too far before Tassie decided it was time to return to the Zone. She always amazes me with her courage – as a 14 year old predominantly indoor/garden cat, she had not really travelled much before last September, but now she’s been right across Australia. She always knows where the safe Zone is, and keeps her wits about her, even when being dive bombed by birds…they don’t seem to understand she’s a lover not a catcher!
There are plenty of birds here. We have spotted pale yellow robins, firetails, finches galore, and lovely purple and green fruit doves feeding on the mandarins on and below the tree beside where we are camped. The little black and white Willy Wagtail is the feisty one, always flying at Tassie and frightening her back indoors. I guess he’s met some hungrier cats in his lifetime.
Soon the cheese was calling, and off we went to the farm where Mr A tried some cheese and purchased a delicious (according to him) blue.
From here we drove a short way to another little national park – home to the Curtain Fig. This tree is a survivor in a small patch of remaining rainforest which was saved from the saw in the 1800s by the rocky surface, not ideal for grazing. 
It is protected by a raised boardwalk, and pretty magnificent.
Mareeba didn’t tempt us in to town, and it had a very uninspiring campsite as well, so after the using the time to clean sheets, clothes, truck and Zone we decided to head off to Atherton, the main town up here on the tablelands.
Moving on, we called in at our first fruit and veggie shop on the tablelands. If you’re not au fait with the area then you should know it is famous for its basalt soils and temperate climate that encourages an incredible range of produce. Almost everything seems to grow up here!
….And then…we spot another Zone parked by us. So we all introduce ourselves and it turns out the Zoner (Ken, owner of #101) was someone I had already previously messaged to meet up in Cairns, as I had seen he had just picked up his van.
Skipper Mark let the motor rip, and sped us up to the quieter parts of the river, about 10km upstream. I spotted a Forest Kingfisher (my first one!), a blur of blue and white as we whizzed past, and hoped there might be more when we slow down.
Our skipper lowered an electric boat motor into the water, and we moved slowly past for a better look, before leaving him alone in search for more wildlife.
We spotted a Spangled Drongo and a Wompoo Fruit-Dove flying past. Our skipper called it a Wompoo pigeon, arguing a fruit dove is much smaller. That’s not what my best selling bird book says, but hey-ho…
In dire need of defrosting, we decided to head to a nearby restaurant for dinner and a warming glass of wine…much better.
A fine conclusion to our visit to Cooktown, but not sure we’ll be recommending the bird watching tour!
Once we hit the road, we headed north through amazing scenery, the roads winding upwards between rolling hills, with several lookouts along the way.
It was around 2pm that we rolled into Cooktown, the final frontier settlement before heading up Cape York. This is the top of the road on the east coast for us on this trip.
Unlike in other areas of Australia, there is a real feeling of acceptance, with black (Aboriginal) kids running around with white kids, and the same with adults. We later chatted to a local Aboriginal guy who told us that Cooktown is probably the first place in Australia where there has been real reconciliation and acceptance amongst both parties. It certainly feels a lot closer than we have seen elsewhere.
We walked along the Main Street just soaking up the atmosphere, before returning to the rig to drive another 20 minutes up to our campsite.
Memories of our fabulous Daintree River cruise encouraged us to book a similar sounding trip for Wednesday afternoon on the Endeavour River. Fingers crossed it delivers.