Here We Go Again - Chapter 66 - Darwin to Victoria River Roadhouse

So, the Northern Territory and the relaxation of Darwin, if you can call fighting large fish, feasting on crab and Barramundi and getting jabbed for protection against a pandemic creating virus relaxation, we ready ourselves for the romp into Western Australia. 

3 days and 1,000 kilometres. The plan is to break the back of it early. Have two large driving daus, then a shorter one as we ease into Broome. Given the fuel issue getting into Darwin we decide discretion is the better part of valour and refill the jerry cans before we blast off, giving us an extra 20 litres of fuel each.

There is a service station directly in front of the van park and with a little maneuvering, getting the cans filled in place, rather than man handling them out filling them and replacing them to their spots, makes the job very easy. Job done its out to the highway but as we look to set up for the transition, two other vans, Victorians, cut us off, oblivious to our positioning and movement. Its not as if we are going to hold them back, the highway south here at least is dual lane. They simply made their decision to move and they went, without checking their surroundings.

.

Catastrophe averted, (not sure the Victorians even knew what they nearly caused) we are on the road to Katherine.

Ostensibly the plan is to top up at every opportunity to ensure no repeat of the other day. Katherine will be the first chance and will coincide with about lunch time.

Its not long before we hit the Fergusson River roadworks again. Rather than be split, we ensure we are through the light before it goes red. In doing this I must have missed a 40kph sign, because although travelling at the same speed as the rest of the traffic, a worker flashes from the works beside us gesticulating menacingly. Neither Silver Leader or I understand the actions, Robyn suggests we missed the sign for a slower speed, but so apparently did everyone else.

Catastrophe number 2 for the day averted. We pass the roadworks without running over a worker. I must admit, travelling past roadworks here in the Northern Territory, sees work being done (and it need not be a weekday either), rather than groups of men standing around, looking important, like tends to be the case back home.

At one point we see a small herd of feral buffalo, as if there are any other types, on the side of the road. I am thankful the road is elevated here and “on the side of the road” means on the level below. We don’t want to be coming to a stop in a hurry meeting one of them.

Roadkill today seems to be only cattle or other bovie species. Very few if any kangaroos line the road. Again as the railway comes into view we expectantly look for the Ghan but are disappointed again. Onward and onward the numbers reduce as we head into Katherine.

Katherine is just as busy as we left it. We take advantage of the first service station we encounter, not remembering the last time this particular service station was encountered. Its a tricky and tight exercise. Getting to the bowser is easy, thats a straight line, but getting out and onto the road, thats another matter. Once filled and the fuel aid for, I need to swing out and turn sharply back, watching the van like a hawk to see it clears the bowser.

Not just that, we need to cross a couple of lanes of traffic and make a right turn towards the west. Its a turn Silver Leader fails to make and he has to venture further into Katerine to correct his error. In the meantime we find a virtually empty car park and set up for lunch. There is even a tree to park under giving cooling shade to the Cruiser. We sit, consume our pies and drinks and wit for the others.

Soon enough they come around the corner and join us for the well earned break.

We are about half way to our destination for the night. Robyn is up for a drive so we set up the Cruiser for her to take over. As we head out we find we are a part of an army convoy. For Robyn this makes the journey much easier. They are going at her pace and she can settle in Unbeknown to us, they have the same destination.

To the west of Katherine starts the Kimberley. A vast tableland of vistas, views and expanses different to what we have seen so far. The change is gradual at first, then you notice the landscape has changed. The dominance of the vegetation is overtaken by the red escarpments as the highway traces its way to the west.

As well as napping, I take the opportunity to snap shots of this amazing landscape, knowing full well it will last (and change) for many days to come.

Into the roadhouse camping area we find a suitable site. There is power here but no water. There is also no real organisation to the parking but sense prevails. The army convoy wanders in and parks as another leaves. They will be staying the night as well but in cabins. Whilst Robyn is dealing with the site fees she gets “Madam’ed” by a young soldier as she is escorted through the door. The politeness of the young man impresses her, and makes her day.

We are here only one night but I do a full set up, awning, chairs, outside table and all. Although you can only sort of see to the extremity of the park and its very tall grass, the land does fall away towards the river and the cliffs behind.

Tomorrow will see us travel across the border into Western Australia and one thing that won’t be travelling with us is fresh fruit and vegetables. Tonight we are vegetarians, cooking up all the fresh vegetables we have.

On the menu tonight will be 

• Potato bake with sweet potato and onions
• Tomato & onion bake with tuscan herbs and carrots
• Greens – asparagus and broccolini

Should we not cook it up, it will be confiscated at the border.

This place lends itself to getting out and talking to the other campers. Its not the proximity, there is much more space than most, its the relaxed atmosphere of a “free camp”, although this one is not free as such. We hear stories of others adventures. Why campers drift to places like this rather than the commercial reality of the urban van parks.

Organisation brings with it social issues, especially in places where the youth are highly unemployed. Petty theft, stories of marauding youth and perceived problem areas hold the attention of anyone willing to listen. For our part we have not encountered any such incidents, and for places like Halls Creek and Kununurra where we had been warned off on the previous trip ended up actually being highlights.

One story in particular tickled our fancy. The story goes there had been trouble. A group of youths had been “terrorising” a park and this one night they picked on the wrong van. The owner, a burly man of less than even temper, apparently thought his van was being harassed. As the story goes “they” rock the van then rush off, usually with the occupant after them, the accomplices raid the van whilst you are gone. 

Certainly this van had been rocked and the occupant emerged, shot gun in hand bellowing profanities, but no one to be seen. Happy his reminstrations had warded off the “enemy” we retired to his bed. In the morning he woke to enquiries about, did he feel the earthquake last night. Enough said. All that was required was the giggle at his expense.

Whilst the sun sets a couple of fishermen head down the track to the river. They return very quickly. Did they lose their lures much like I have done in the past on snags, or worse encountered a toothy impediment. Either they were ill prepared carrying only one lure each or the latter suggested to them discretion was the better part of valour. In any event no fish came back with them.

For us at least protein was not going to be on the menu. We had to cook everything and we did, adding where we could fit it in, Rose’s supply. The leftovers will carry us through for a few days and we will not be “wasting” any food at the border.

The feast, outside while the sun sets, surrounded by I suspect half the park doing the same thing, given we have the Western Australian border to the west of us and you are either coming or going that direction, it goes without too much thought, unless they are not done their research, they are being prepared.

With great feasts comes great mess and leaving it until the morning when we want to get on the road for a 400 kilometre plus jaunt is not my idea of fun. 

The culinary cleaning needs only one thing – doing. It takes a couple of shifts as the sink area is not coping. The baking process has burnt some contents into the pots and pans and take some extra scrubbing and in time it is all done.

Bloated, full of vegetables and the like, having exercised in no small way washing up, we fall into bed, ready for the next leg. During the night, the power goes off, and I need to transfer the fridge over to the auxiliary battery in the Cruiser, especially as we have lots of cooling vegetable dishes in there.