Here We Go Again - Chapter 53 - Banka Banka Station to Mataranka

The sunrise against the escarpment is far better photographic fodder than the sunset last night. Much like Barkley Homestead, Mother Nature turns on a show for the ages. In the direction of the sun there are the hues of the sunrise, behind us on the escarpment the ever changing lighting of the red and orange rocks and dirt create panoramas of colour.

We are on the move early. Elliott is our first point of call for another refuel and a morning tea break. Pressure does strange things to people and Covid and its thrusting of what might have been overseas travellers onto our roads are just an example.

Our reasoning for the early start is to hit Elliott before the much maligned on social media, expected potential long queues at fuel stops get into full swing. We are lucky there are only a couple of vans with a similar mind and we find only a small line. The driver in front of me, moves his rig forward to allow me to fill up whilst he pays, very thoughtful. 

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But now the madness (I don’t want to use the word “stupidity” but of the shoe fits) starts. Whilst he has moved a sufficient distance, he has, because he does not want to start a full scale security alert, moved but still blocks my way out. The thinking I suspect being by the time I fill up and pay for ours, he will have had sufficient time to be out of the way.

How very wrong can you be? Robyn and I have  a system where I fill, she waits for me to finish and pays while I deal with any other things, like windscreen cleaning, that need it. It works well as I never leave the vehicle and can move the instant I see her walking back out of the store. With a convoy like ours that can mean much less time filling or waiting to fill and less time either returning to driving or more time sitting in the air conditioned comfort of the shop having parked the van to enjoy a break.

This also being a food stop allows our predecessor has a chance to fill bellies as well as the tank. 

Robyn returns, our blockage has not. Minutes pass and finally he emerges, arms full of food for his hungry hoards. Does he go to the driver’s seat and distribute from there – no. Does he even distribute his food and then go to the driver’s seat to consume his or move to a location where he can leisurely eat his breakfast – no. He decides he must eat his breakfast on the passenger’s side of the vehicle, not only us, but those behind, wait for him to move back to the road and on his merry way obvious to the frustration he has caused. 

And people wonder what causes road rage to occur!

The angst retreats and we continue our heading towards the Daly River Pub. Originally this was our destination for today. We had been here before but had only lunched, and its quaintness piqued our interest in an overnight stay. But the worst of the Covid rumours were realised as we drove into the township. Vans were lined up down the street. What looked like the van area was overflowing and our chances of getting a reasonable spot for the night were apparently already dashed.

But its lunchtime and our next option, Mataranka, is not that far away so we find spots and park on side streets and venture into the pub for a quick libation (and possibly another one before we go) and something from their lunch menu. The line ups outside are a precursor to the carnage inside the pub. Serving as the reception for the caravan park there are people lined up, not only to get settled and parked but ordering drinks and lunches. 

The pub itself is iconic . The decor really needs to be experienced rather than waxed lyrically on. Needless to say, sitting in the “beer garden” enjoying fish and chips surrounded by what could only be termed memorabilia is an experience we have now enjoyed twice in our travels and probably should we return past this area again, will enjoy just as much as we did the very first time we dined here. If it weren’t for the crowds, we would have stayed for what I am sure must be an evening’s entertainment unique to this venue.

Enough said. If you are anywhere near it, then you are doing yourself a disservice not to encounter the Daly Waters Pub.

Back on the road and we have picked up another convoy member. Its an earlier version of our JB Caravan Scorpion Sting – well I think its an earlier version, the colour scheme is much more akin to the black rather than the yellow. It snuck around me as I was getting to speed and now has settled into our 100kph cruise. 

A prime mover lurches into view from behind and I inform Silver Leader we are about to be overtaken. The truck pulls out to overtake then settles back. I attempt to contact him on the UHF on both channel 18 and channel 40 to no avail in order to assist him with the passing. Checking the vans in front I notice they are drawing away. Silver Leader must have had some lead in his lunch. To keep up I extend the cruise control to 105kph. The prime mover loses interest and falls behind.

All three vans pull off towards the Mataranka Homestead but our new found friend leaves us a little up the road for another venue off Hauser Drive. Must be free camping. 

On our arrival into Mataranka we find only one “powered” site remains. We offer this to Silver Leader and Rose given their dependence on air conditioning and set ours up on the airstrip with the extraction fans working to remove the heat from the van. In the morning someone will leave and we can have their powered spot.

Not unlike Daly Waters, Mataranka is a must see spot, on travels in this area. There are thermal springs here, but with the mass of humanity filling the camp, I am not sure how healthy an option it will be to swim. As well as the pools there is a tribute to the Never Never and nightly entertainment in a large beer garden like expanse. 

Silver Leader and Rose setup and immediately head for the springs for a swim. They return with stories of humanity writing in a green pond of microbes. Not very inviting – perhaps tomorrow.

The park does not seem crammed full. There are certainly plenty of non-powered potential sites down the airstrip to be utilised if required, but there are lots of people.

Its State of Origin night again (the final game for the season) and the normal entertainment has been cancelled in favour of the telecast. Support for both states is relatively evenly spread. The banter between the spectators is most jovial. The lines to the bar are not huge even given there is no eftpos available, unlike the restaurant queue which is very long.

I get a table with an excellent view of the screen and settle in and wait for the others. No eftpos also means no internet so trying to use my laptop was never going to be an option. While I am waiting I get talking to a young man from Bawley Point. 

Daniel is a carpenter and is working/wandering around, supplementing his holiday with a bit of work here and there. His interest in the three young women sitting between us and the screen is noted, but its when some of his friends join us, it becomes interesting in a 6 degrees of separation way.

The one screen in the area has become the focal point and a group has set up chairs behind us as if in the bleachers. As kids do, one is a bit restless and wanders to our table. We get talking to his dad and find he is from Crookwell. My best friends from school lives in Crookwell, he is a local accountant. Oh you mean Tom Horton is his answer.

For the next 10 minutes (the game has not started at this point), between myself, Jesse and my old friend Tom, via text link, we discuss childhood, Jesse’s friendship with Tom’s sons and how small the world really is. On his return Jesse proposes to dead arm Tom for me.

The game starts and finishes. It is so close, and the ups and downs of the individual teams is mirrored in the ferocity of the cheering from the floor. NSW lose the game but win the series and the banter continues with no real bite. It is this type of good humour that makes for a great rivalry. Its when it goes too far that sport and those who follow it with more than passion spoil it for others.

My wife seems to think I fit in that category at times. Nowhere near as loud as some, I most certainly have been known to voice my approval and disapproval at the goings on in front of me. My answer to her tends to be in the tacit agreement of others in the travesty I have seen.

The lack of internet here is a worry. Again it is advertised. Again it is non-existent but that may be a short term thing with the eftpos just being down for the moment, but I cannot be sure and with a webinar to run tomorrow night, tomorrow will be a day of exploration for a suitable site from which to conduct it.

In this day and age one would expect the tyranny of distance to be just as beaten here as anywhere else. Covid has shown that with the advent of Zoom meetings and the like, but that is in the built up areas. The experience to date would suggest though I might be in for a torrid day which could see me having to drive 100 kilometres to Katherine seeking stable internet.