Here We Go Again - Chapter 41 - Undara to Karumba

Again, I am up early and off to the reception area to answer emails. Robyn joins me attempting to do the same thing. We want to be on the road by 8.00am and we need to move quickly.

Unlike Cairns, this bug out is without the rain that kept us all wet there. A quick shower, an even quicker breakfast and settling all the outside “stuff” into its place in the van, we are ready to go on time. We crack the grey water tanks at the junction of the highway and for a while the road is sprayed by ours and Forbsy’s emptying tanks.

The grey water tanks empty towards the middle of the road, meaning any movement of the van to the left enhances the flow of water onto the road, as does deviations in the road which drop the right hand side of the van. The spray is visible even from the distance between the vans on the road.

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Mount Surprise is surprising in that the internet does not arrive as promised and we drive on. This is Highway 1, our national road. It changes colour according to the bitumen source in different places. In some its the same red as the earth, others its balck like the crows flying over it and all the hews in between. There are times when the road is long and straight, others when we wend our way between hills giving us photo opportunities. The vista changes from one side to the other and back again.

Bridges along this part of the road appear to be somewhat of an afterthought or at worst a cost cutting moment of madness. Most of them are one lane, with a give way sign on one side or the other, stopping approaching traffic to allow the other to take the bridge. Amazingly the road goes from what you would expect of a highway to a single lane strip of bitumen and back again and back again. 

These thin expanses offer their own treachery when oncoming vehicles are larger than a simple car. At one time two trucks come towards us. With one wheel in the dirt on both sides of the road in normal cases, this time we have diverted off the bitumen completely and significant amounts of dust are generated. The trucks take much less aversion from the middle of the bitumen.

Although I have given Forbsy quite a deal of distance between he and I, in the dust its impossible to see he has actually stopped. Thanks Forbsy you could have said something on the UHF. He apologies and suggests this may happen again.

The distance between the two vehicles averted any major issues other than me having to jump on the anchors as his van finally began to loom in front of me. For Highway 1 this is all but unacceptable and downright dangerous.

We are coming towards another bridge and we have the right of way. Only issue, the vehicle on the other side does not acknowledge this and Forbsy and I hit the anchors to avoid an accident. There was a policeman having pulled a driver over just over the crest before the bridge. Perhaps the sound of quickly slowing caravan has caught their notice and at least a cautionary warning could be issued.

We have decided to have lunch in Croydon as well as refuel. The township is heralded by the dinging of messages on my phone. Robyn’s Testra lookalike is not performing in these remote areas. We find a service station and fill up, then head further into town for a cafe. 

A suitable business is found, meaning I am required to park directly in front of the police station. Not chancing my luck, I move further up the street. I park in front of the butchers shop. It has been closed since 1983 and the sign signifying its closure looks like it was erected yesterday not nearly 40 years ago. We wander into the shop and order pies, potato scallops and a drinks.

I have more calls to return and internet concealed emails to review. Lunch for the others is a resting affair. For me its a cacophony of calls and email returns. Robyn offers to drive the final 200 kilometres into Karumba but if the road reverts back to the single strip of bitumen again  fear her panic. We have seen a few large road trains pass just before Croydon.

Back on the road again, Silver Leader runs over a snake. Its a large grey monster with black rings. He has not killed it, nor has he had it roll up inside either the van or Cruiser. He is thankful for that.

A little further on we come across a dead goanna in the middle of the road, and a little further what may have been its mate, limping off into the bush. Either they have been fighting or their tate a tate had been interrupted by an encounter with a speeding vehicle.

Robyn could have driven. The road remained as Highway 1 should have been, a luxurious meander through bush, cattle paddocks, back again, becoming large expanses of salt plain as we get close to the ocean of the Gulf. In Karumba we get to the van park but I am caught on a corner because Silver Leader cannot get into the park far enough to allow me a flat parking area.

The park is full but the sites are large enough to drive through and set up without issue. IOur site is right beside the power board and to get the awning up we have to manipulate it over the board. No worries with set up, we are here for a few days.

Set up we both are into our computers to answer emails and look at messages. Robyn elects to go to reception to attempt to get better coverage whereas I am willing to rely on my Telstra SIM card in my laptop for coverage. I struggle with it for long enough to get some of the more important things done, then with Robyn returning we decide to go for a walk to the beach.

The others left well before us looking for a pub. We are heading in their direction but halfway across the beach I get a message suggesting the pub is too full and they have returned.

Unperturbed we do the loop anyway, passing by a Forbsy inspired stacked rock collection and along the hotel we see long lines at the bars and think better of it. The sun is starting to set and if the weather is to remain as it is now, there could be some very spectacular sunsets to be seen in the time we are here.

Driving for six hours and for over 500 kilometres tends to take it out of you. I am tired and bed is beckoning