Mal's Big Iron

Mal's Iron. We were bush camped just west of The Foxtrap, about 60k east of Quilpie and 100 or so west of St. George, about 500m from the road. Just far enough to be out of sight from the road we thought. It was quite a good level camp site with a good supply of wood for a fire and an opportunity to try the new chain saw out. Pull, pull, pull, but the damned saw wouldn't start, so it was back to the axe once more. I think a lot of people who choose to bush camp at one time or another think about the safety and security aspect of it all, and we were no different. It was just after dark when we heard the vehicle slow suddenly, turn around and make its way slowly past us before accelerating on its way. We soon put it out of mind. Mary had cooked a beaut damper in the camp oven and we were licking the last of the golden syrup from our fingers when the car returned, bouncing up the rough track to the camp site with headlights blazing and coming to an abrupt stop alongside the camp site. Stan had gone for the shovel and I had my new three quarter axe at the ready when a gravelly voice coming from behind the blinding headlights demanded to know "what are you lot up to .. Eh?" As I nervously made my way over to the driver side door, I could see the shot gun resting in the lap of the unshaven character still sitting in the drivers seat of a battered old Falcon. So it was just the driver and his shot gun against four of us with an axe, and a shovel. I figured the odds were still heavily weighted against us but before I got the chance to explain our purpose, he announced us as 'harmless tourists'. "Mal's me name ...eh?" which we took to be a question which required of us our names. So excitedly and somewhat relieved, we introduced ourselves whereupon Mal proceeded to explain himself. He had in fact noticed us earlier and not wishing to stumble into anything unprepared, turned around and went home to "get some iron" as he explained. "ya never walk into a situation like this out here without iron. ....eh, thought you might a been dressin' a killer ... Eh" Mal continued "Roo shooters bin givin' us a bit of trouble lately, so I went home to get some help ... Eh?" Mal patted his 'iron', not without affection. Mal turned out to be a friendly bush character who looked after his mates property while he was away. We were camped on the property but it was right by him now he knew who we were. Said he was going down to The Foxtrap to get a six pack but since he had polished one off already he would now have to get two to get him home. Mal asked if we were mechanical because he just bought a new D Max and got some crook fuel in it and now it had shut down and wouldn't go any more than 40kph. "the dealer said to drive it down to Roma and he would hook it up to a computer thingy and sort it out....eh. Jeez at that speed I'd clean The Foxtrap outa grog and still not have enough to get there ....eh?"

The Dingo did it

No native animal of the Australian bush has gained more notoriety than the Australian dingo. From the Lindy Chamberlan to Frazer Island, the dingo has gained a much maligned reputation.
We were camped in a bush camp on a cattle station camp situated on the Gibb River Road. The evening meal finished, Mary and I prepared to retire for the evening. Immediately before climbing the three step ladder to bed, Mary noticed a solitary boot sitting at the base of the ladder and reminded me to get the other and put them up out of reach of the dingos.
Too late, the missing boot had been carefully placed with it's mate but was now missing. I knew in an instant that a dingo had taken it even though we were eating dinner just a few meters away.
I took the lantern and following an animal track leading from the camp and there it was, my  Blundstone, lying by the track, discarded by the disinterested dingo. Later that evening I lay in the camp bed and enjoyed the mournful howling serenade of a lone dingo.

A few nights later in another roadside bush camp, after finishing tea, we were sitting in our camp chairs soaking up the wonder of the southern sky. Millions of stars were emerging from their daylight slumber to light up the moonless night sky. What a wonderful experience it is to just sit with friends in the silent stillness of the Australian bush and just wonder ..
Then it happened, just like it often does, a lone dingo howled in the distance. I recalled answering them some years back at Sams Creek with my own attempt. Why not give it a try here in remote north WA. A few moments and the dingo answered, I called again and once more the dingo called back. The calling continued for a few minutes, and then we were joined by another to the south. The three of us continued our serenade and were joined by more dingoes. The hairs on the back of our necks began to stand up as the howls came closer. The girls had had enough and retreated to the security of the vans leaving Stan and myself to await their arrival, and then as suddenly as they commenced the serenade, they stopped never to be heard again that evening. What a privileged experience it was, interacting with the cleverest and  and most cunningly shy native of our desert bushland.
Sent from my iPhone

We pulled in to the little town of Wyandra half distance between Charleville and Cunnumulla in SW Qld and discovered this old derelict building with an interesting sign that read...

I V Holland
Licensed Victualler

The word intrigued me and so here I was in outback Qld with iPhone in hand to take the picture and 3G coverage to Google the meaning of the word ' victualler'.
These little towns dotted along our highways and by-ways tell the story of yesterday's Australia, a little white white monument fenced in wrought iron sits in the main street with the names of the local lads who answered the call to serve King and country in the great war. Can't help feel a sadness for the families who did not get to welcome their boys home, but feel a sense of deep pride that this was the generation that above all gave our nation the proud heritage that we claim as Australians.
The town may have died like so many others, but there still remains reminders of times past.

Early morn

The same sunrise but this time looking east.

Sunrise

Sunrise or sunset are my favourite times for photography, I like the subtlety of light and the angles that give life to shadows.
This is looking to the west at sunrise on the Barkly.

Free Camping

Along most of our major highways, authorities provide basic facilities like toilets, level sites and in some cases shade for use by caravanners and campers.
Many travelers plan their trip around these sites and use books like Camps 6 that indicate their location. Both have become so popular that sites have become so popular that is very difficult to get in on most occasions.
And so, the challenge now is to new places, not listed where we can set up camp.
Little Panton River a couple of hundred south of Kunanurra was one. We liked the spot so much we camped a couple of days, the girls did some hand washing while the boys washed the rigs at the causeway on the old highway.
We all agreed that this site would soon be listed and it's secrets revealed to the wider world.

The Big Wet

The top end of WA experienced an extraordinary late wet season which resulted in major road damage.
The road is normally closed for summer wet and was opened not long before we attempted it.
This is an indication of the type of damage experienced.