Around Oz the First Time - Chapter 46 - Halls Creek to Fitzroy Crossing

Time is becoming critical. We need to be in Broome to be picked up at some ungodly hour, tow mornings hence. Silver Leader is still working on options for his Jeep and what’s worse the insurance company have done a swiftie on him with a poorly described loss leader, meaning the towing of his vehicle was only covered in the first year. He thought because his premiums had not changed over the life of the policy all the coverage, he enjoyed in year one continued for the life of him paying his premiums.

Options, there are lots of options, the best one of course would be to have a fully functioning vehicle. He could get the car on a back fill semi-trailer bound for Broome at a cost of $800, but that comes with the added issue of getting the vehicle and the van on and off the trailer, which in its present state is not really an option, given the state of the power plant. The second it to have the local tow truck driver, who just happens to be the mechanic presently “working” on the Jeep, tow it and the van to Broome to the Jeep “dealer”.

Silver Leaders daughter has been instrumental in creating a bidding war for this option, which started at something like $4,000 each, yes $8,000 to something around $3,800 for the Jeep on the tilt tray and the van behind. This looks like being the preferred option, as the part still has yet to materialise even though the freight company’s tracking suggests it was delivered two days ago.

Silver Leader and Rosalie are insistent we move along to give us two days to get to Broome and the flight to the upside-down falls. We very reluctantly agree, but given they are now going to be towed they should be OK. We will do Fitzroy Crossing today and wander into Broome tomorrow and they should not be far behind us.

Robyn punches the address of the Fitzroy River Lodge into the GPS and we head off. Instantly I have made a “one job” error. I have forgotten Forbsy needs fuel and have followed the suggested route around the town centre and out to the highway which gives him no chance of a fuel stop. He corrects me and rather than turn left onto the highway we turn right back into town where he peels off into the roadhouse and we turn right and do a “blocky” and wait for him to full up. We shan’t tell Silver Leader that one will we.

Out on the highway, Forbsy suggests I set the cruise control to a level I am comfortable with and let it rock. This I do but we are very soon up behind another van, going probably 5kph slower than us. I overtake and resume the speed, but the slower van appears to come with us. Even though the road is clear, Forbsy is reluctant to push any harder than he already is, as he is comfortably behind the middle vehicle. Perhaps we have found another “Malcolm in the middle” to travel with us today.

With my cruise control on 100kph I am slowly pulling away, so I drop it back to 98kph and they seem to stay relative to me.

The trip is easy today, the road is wide and there is very little traffic. The topography seems to change with every corner. Yes they have had little rain up here since the poor wet season but there is lots of flora. Spinifex varieties, both green and yellow are prolific in places, in others even they are missing. At times trees are thick, at others they are also missing, perhaps because of salt, perhaps because of human intervention.

There are smoke and dust plumes scattered on the landscape. At one place a whirlwind is close enough to the road for Robyn to snap a photo, and just beyond the remnants of a van strewn on the side of the road. One wonders whether the van fell foul of a willy-willy of sufficient intensity to create the death wobbles enough to make the driver panic and brake, meaning a perfect storm, and the strewn metal and plastic the result.

The land is by no means flat here, but with the wind behind we are doing well with fuel consumption, remaining below 20 litres per 100kms. We pass through some cliffs, where the wind and the water from thousands of years of action has carved spectacular crevices on one side of the road, whilst on the other, forbidding grey boulders pushed up from below contrast the red soil of the cliffs.

There is a viewing platform here, and there are many vans parked on the top of the cliff. We continue along past the Mimbi Caves, which are in the grey boulder side of the road, and onwards towards our goal. It’s good to be back on the road. The phone coverage has been reasonable all the way today and I take a work call, the contents of which are the same as many of the calls I get related to work, “I can’t seem to get xxx to return my calls”. I do what I can to help them and then normally text the staff member in question.

This one doesn’t need that because I have sorted hi issue out quickly. The phone rings again, its Silver Leader with amazing news, they have found the errant parcel containing the part, he has physically touched the item, he says with a smirk, and they are hopefully going to fit it this afternoon with the chance they may be able to put some sort of hole ion the trip before dark, perhaps make Mary Pool. At least that will have knocked off 100km of the large trip they will be doing in one hit from Halls Creek to Broome to make the falls trip.

We hit Fitzroy Crossing for a late lunch. This place is a little more salubrious that Halls Creek, we have to shoo the wallabies off our site to park (just kidding, but there are many here). We park, set up and then look for a repast. WE are getting closer to the ocean, as the humidity has climbed and the work of set up has brought a sweat that does not simply evaporate away.

Crackers and tuna, along with a few added extras do for lunch. I have heard a lot about the Fitzroy River and its propensity to give up some of its prize fish. I talk Forbs and Robyn into a sightseeing trip of the town and perhaps the chance to throw a pure or two. The ablution block is presently being mopped but there is enough dry floor for me to enter. I ask the gentleman at the end of the mop where one might catch a fish and he suggests, as the river is not presently flowing, it is probably best to go to Geikie Gorge where the water is deeper and the boat tours emanate from, rather than the pools below the bridge where all the locals fish.

Plan A accomplished, get someone interested in going, along with the required crocodile spotter, Plan B also in the can – where to fish – now all we need is the fish to come to the party. Little did I know there would be other hinderances to me wetting a line.

On the ruse of sightseeing, we wander around the town. There isn’t much to see, but I give it the works. The gorge is 20 kilometres up the road, so I suggest we head that way. The GPS knows of this spot and takes us towards it. All of a sudden, I have to stop, the GPS wants to take us off this lovely bitumen road and head off down a distinctly more rural road, even though the road we are presently situated is names the Geikie Gorge Road, most disturbing. Forbsy and Robyn resort to the internet, strangely enough they suggest we stay on the present road. I agree and cautiously continue along the bitumen.

Its not long before the GPS suggests the road, I should have taken, crosses back across the bitumen, but there is no road. Very disconcerting. The phone rings, its Silver Leader, a little cranky. The mechanic who now has the part and his team, have had to go to lunch rather than work immediately on the Jeep. The plan of getting way late this afternoon, I suspect just went out the window.

The road ends, there is a carpark and a hut. Its 4.00pm, about the time the last tour boat leaves for the gorge tour. We engage the Rangers still in the hut about a bit of a look around. As usual the hut is filled with information, and the Rangers suggest we really only need to walk to the boat ramp to see the gorge in its splendour. This we do and agree with them, the rock cliffs of the gorge are easily and spectacularly seen in the light of the falling sun.

There is a walkway along the bank, and we head up a little. The track is initially very powder dusty and the dust flies up with every step. The dust turns to sand and the going becomes much tougher. We muse that fishing anywhere here would not allow an easy retreat should a croc come menacingly out of the water as the banks of the river are 5 metres plus high. WE turn back along the actual track where there are the odd information plaque to break the struggle through the sand.

Still hoping for a fish of sorts, I notice on the map of the walking trail a place called the sandbar which is designated a fishing spot within the park. As we start to drive out, I see a sign pointing towards it and take that option. The car park seems to be right at the point, and as we get out a bike rider slinks past and long the short track to the rivers edge. We follow, scattering more wallabies and snapping pictures of two sea eagles perched in a tree in front. There is indeed a sandbar here, but it is accessed from the other side of the river. A family has driven onto the sand and are having a lovely time frolicking on the edge and also appear to be hand line fishing. There is no way we can get to that side and again the edge of the rive there is steep.

Here is the place the Mary River meets the Fitzroy. There si not water flowing down the Mary and the sand bank stops any flow past this point in the Fitzroy. Best laid plans of mice and men dashed again.

Back to the van, our van has the most shade and we set up the beer garden. A couple of gentlemen walk past and plonk themselves onto chairs in the next spot. I beckon them over for a drink and a talk. Jorge and Pieter are from Switzerland, Zurich in fact, so Robyn has some affinity with them having worked for Nestle and often having to travel to Vevey via Zurich when she needed to be in head office.

Both are well into retirement, and it seems are chasing the sun, both are having issues with their girlfriends, I suspect because they are here and the girls are freezing in Europe. The boys started in Darwin, hiring a 4WD and visiting Kakadu and places around Darwin, but are now in a campervan, heading down the west coast for Perth, where they will then head off to Thailand and meet up with the womenfolk. Pieter seems to suggest the selection of the island is the issue.

They stay for only a short time, but not before I engage them with some of the Scorpion Jerky. Pieter loves it and has a second piece. Jorge politely refuses, even though he said he was a chilly lover. They depart and leave us to dinner, The Missing Link calls to see how Silver Leader was going, we tell him that after the events of the day we are leaving him alone, not sure if the part was even installed and tested today. He will call Silver Leader later and see what’s happening. They have just left heading for Wagga and know there is a foot of snow in Goulburn, their first stop. A little different to what we are experiencing.

Call completed and the phone rings again, its Silver Leader, letting us know the Jeep is finally back in the park and is presently being hooked up to the van for an early departure. There is much mirth and merriment to hide the frustration in his voice. I enquire as to whether he has taken it for a run, but he suggests its now late and the livestock on the road will be prolific, and he believes the Jeep has been tested by the mechanic. That will be of little consequence should he break down between there and Broome.

After the call Forbsy and I muse whether the finding of the part, and its installation were all part of the grand scheme not to drive to Broome, even though, for the mechanic, it was lucrative.

Bed now, tomorrow’s another day.