Mt Isa milestone: 65 not out

On turning 65, one can’t help feeling both regret and joy: regret at being old enough to be 'pensionable' and joy at being not yet dead.

In my case, I actually thought I had another day to go (a miscalculation possibly caused by the enervating Mt Isa heat or unconscious denial, or both).

Birthday bash at Tod and Clare Hirn's home.

I even had Carol convinced. It was only when my mobile phone erupted with congratulatory text messages from family that we both realised this was indeed 29 August.

It also happened to be the day of a dinner date with my niece Clare Hirn (brother John's 8th child) and her energetic and resourceful husband Tod, who together run Mt Isa’s No 1 floor coverings store, Hirn’s Carpet Choice.

We hadn’t seen them since their wedding in July last year in Maleny on the Sunshine Coast hinterland.

Tod generously shouted us to Italian cuisine at swishy Dom’s restaurant, where the four of us – or rather five, as Clare is eight months pregnant – raked over the joyful and tragic events of the past.

Birthday boy with Clare and Tod.

It was an unforgettable evening.

Clare and Tod have just finished renovating their home, tucked in behind but separate from their showroom in Mt Isa’s main street – a pretty handy setup for when baby arrives.

For our final night, Clare cooked up a curry and baked a chocolate cake lit up with a lone candle (a la the Mt Isa chimney stack) that I struggled to blow out.

We were really sorry to say goodbye – they are among the sweetest people you could possibly meet and somehow have managed to strike a good work-life balance.

Carol and Clare talking babies.

We found Mt Isa (population 23,000) a hot, busy place with a cityscape dominated by the Xstrata copper mine’s giant chimney stack and slag heaps. It operates 24x7 and employs 4,500 people.

Lead dust from the slag is a local health issue, but everyone knows that if the mine stops the town dies.

Dog day afternoon

En route to Mt Isa, we stayed overnight in Cloncurry after hauling our van around 450 kilometres south on the Matilda Highway from Karumba in the Gulf.

The big mine smokestack dominates the Mt Isa landscape.

We had intended staying overnight at the Burke & Wills Roadhouse around halfway, but made such good time that we decided, after a quick lunch, to keep going.

We were out of autogas, and as the autogas pump at Burke & Wills was out of order, we switched to petrol for the final 180-odd kilometres to Cloncurry, where we booked into a caravan park and stayed hitched for an early morning departure.

In the late afternoon we went for a walk along the Barkly Highway west towards town to check out the information centre.

Man's best enemy

That was when we had our encounter with the dog. Well, some may call it a dog, but it was more like a cross between a pit bull and a horse.

Downtown Cloncurry, a place pretty much gone to the dogs.

It came bounding out of an unfenced yard snarling in a most unfriendly manner. We backed off, making soothing noises, but the dog lunged forward and sank its teeth into my left hand.

We decided to walk on a couple of hundred metres to the information centre to get help as my hand was bleeding quite a bit.

The centre was closed so I washed up at a filthy public toilet, cursing and soliloquising like Lady Macbeth (‘will these hands ne’er be clean?’).

On the way back, a woman driving a Toyota 4WD ute covered in red dust saw our predicament, kindly squeezed us into the front seat with her shopping bags, and took us to the local hospital, located luckily quite close to the van park, to get the wound dressed.

There a woman wearing an enormous stethoscope who looked far too young to be a doctor insisted on my having a tetanus injection and antibiotics “because a dog’s mouth has bacteria that can cause serious infection”.

I meekly complied, remembering well the loss of a sibling to sudden infection.

As we were leaving early, the caravan park proprietor promised to report the incident to the local council, which is having a blitz on out-of-control dogs. I hope they penalised the owner and not the dog.

It was a salutary introduction to the Queensland outback.

After leaving Mt Isa, aided by a strong tail wind, we travelled west on the Barkly Highway stopping after 200 kilometres at Camooweal for fuel and then, 250 kilometres further west at Barkly Homestead in the Northern Territory for an overnight stay. This blog entry comes from Barkly Homestead. We plan to briefly visit Tennant Creek, which is another 200 kilometres west, before taking the Stuart Highway north to Darwin.

Karumba calling

The vannies who come to Karumba (population 600) on the southern corner of Gulf of Carpentaria seem to be interested in one thing only: fishing.

Perched atop their 4WDs are the biggest boats legally permissible. Every morning the van park trembles to the clatter and rumble of exodus to Gulf waters.

At the Sunset Hotel beer garden.

They’re usually back in the afternoon when the wind gets up. Some seem to do pretty well, catching barramundi, salmon and other species.

We prefer to buy our fish and prawns at the co-op in Karumba proper about seven minutes drive from our park.

Sunset at Karumba.

So far we’ve pigged out on barra at $19 a kilo and banana prawns at $12 a kilo. We’re about to try the tiger prawns at $15 a kilo, which are just coming into season. The best thing about the seafood is that it’s just so fresh.

One of the highlights is to watch the sun set from the beer garden of the Sunset Hotel. Every view is different, depending on cloud formations.

Brolgas outside our van park at Karumba. Note the bougainvillea.

But if you do happen to buy lunch at the pub you need to guard it carefully as the large kites that float in the thermals above will swoop down and snatch if before your very eyes. I saw this happen to one shocked pommie tourist.

We’ve noticed that many of the vannies are regulars from the south who reconnect here at the same time every year. Some are quite elderly; all seem to have a lot of fun.

Isolated

It’s pretty isolated. You can’t get mobile phone reception unless you have a 3G phone, although there are landline public telephones. We could only get an Internet connection at the tiny Karumba library, where the fees are fierce.

There’s no TV reception (except at the pub), prompting a frustrated neighbour to rush out and buy a $700 satellite dish (‘coz I like me sport, mate).

The biggest building in Karumba is the huge Oz Minerals processing factory. Everything else is Lilliputian by comparison.

The water is so shallow that the port entrance has to be dredged and the leads go out as far as the eye can see. Most of the land around Karumba is tidal flats.

Birdlife comprises brolgas, kites, white and black cockatoos, galahs, parrots, pelicans and other sea birds, and tiny doves that scavenge around the park.

The foreshore has large rock formations made up entirely of sea shells, as if some ancient hands had gathered them up, kneeded them with dough and baked them in a giant oven.

We made it here in three hops after leaving Gordonvale south of Cairns in mid-afternoon. We took the Palmerston Highway from just north of Innisfail and stayed overnight at a camping ground in Ravenshoe on the Atherton Tableland charging $6 for a powered site and $3 for an unpowered site (that we parsimoniously occupied).

We braved the freezing night temperatures to walk to the local pub to watch the Broncos RL team beat St George and were up early to head west via the Savannah Way, staying overnight at Croydon.

Road kill

As the name suggests, the Savannah Way goes through grassland populated sparsely by trees and carved into enormous cattle properties.

Club Hotel, Croydon.

There’s a same-ness about it, but if you’re observant you can notice interesting changes in tree species as you progress west.

The road is being continuously upgraded and there are some 110-kmh stretches. Some parts are very narrow and you have to drop your speed and move over for oncoming 50-metre road trains.

Well-preserved 1928 Bedford at Croydon museum.

The saddest thing is the amount of ‘road kill’, although we don’t feel sorry for the number of feral pigs that meet their doom on the edge of a bull bar.

Most people haven’t heard of Croydon, but it was once a goldfield that attracted thousands of miners including a large number of Chinese, and supported 36 pubs.

We were most impressed by the local museum and effort made to preserve local heritage buildings.

A long way between drinks

We camped in 34-degree heat at a spacious site with power but no water. One of the most garrulous people I’ve ever met camped next door. Carol sent me to bed when I fell asleep during one of his long-winded stories.

The distances we are covering between petrol stops are quite long – so far up to 150km (Georgetown to Croydon and Croydon to Normanton), but we have a 200km sector on our next big leg south between Normanton and Burke & Wills Roadhouse.

I found Normanton, which you pass through en route to Karumba, very interesting.

Purple Pub at Normanton.

It’s where the Burns Philp conglomerate was established in the late 19th century and the original trading house is now an information centre.

Normanton was also a staging point for rescue missions trying to locate the ill-fated 19th century south to north overland expedition undertaken by the explorers Burke and Wills. During WWII it was a staging point for Catalina amphibious aircraft.

We’ve been told most of the Indigenous people from Karumba have moved to Normanton because Karumba is 'bad business'.

Carol with a model of the biggest crocodile shot in the region. It was over 28 feet long and weighed two tonnes.

Normanton is the only place on this leg of the Savannah Way I can get autogas (we are on dual-fuel). Predictably, they charge $1.10 a litre (49 cents in Sydney), but hey, whose complaining?

So far we haven’t had any serious hitches. The only scare was when Carol plugged in her hair curlers, causing an electrical shutdown. Thankfully we are well protected by a circuit breaker and power was restored with the flick of a switch.

Our next destination is the Burke & Wills Roadhouse and then Mt Isa.

Merry-making marks arrival of Madeleine

Baby Madeleine entered the world at 9.22am on Friday, 14 August triggering a feu de joie of popping champagne corks across town.

As these pictures show the partying continued for the entire week of our interlude in Sydney.

The Harding family and proud Dique grandparents.

The important thing is that Angela Harding and baby – who weighed in at 3.5 kilos – are well. And Dad is doing pretty well too.

With our van safely parked in Cairns we lodged at the Harding household to participate in the joyous event and lend a hand where we could.

Angela and Madeleine.

It was great to be back especially as we found Lily (Angela and Jeremy’s first-born, aged 18 months) hadn’t forgotten us since our departure in January.

She wasted no time in including us in her daily routine of activities that commence at 5.00 am with Dora
the Explorer and Wiggles videos, follow with exhausting games and role-play, and end with bedtime stories.



Magnificent Madeleine.








Dubai dwellers return

To top off the excitement, Sue, Jeff and the boys were back from Dubai for a short break, prompting a party at Julie and Doug’s home, at which everyone had to do a dance, sing a song or otherwise embarrass themselves.

Cameron Chalker break dancing.

We thrilled to Sue’s belly dancing, Cameron’s break dancing, Luke’s, Jeremy’s and Jo’s singing, Tim’s sax playing, Louise’s violin and Amelia’s ballet. In fact, everyone’s performance was truly a tour de force.

Tim Mannering with his two grandmas, Carol and Joan.

The party continued into the wee hours of the morning meaning most had to stay overnight and camp wherever they could find a vacant piece of floor space.

Jeremy lets it rip.













Back row: Sue, Emma, Julie and Jo. Front row: Lucinda, Louise and Amelia.









Luke Mannering in full voice.















Student belly dancers Amelia and Emma, with Tim holding cue cards.





















Sue Mannering, who learned the fine art of belly dancing in Dubai, shows how it's done. The costume came from Turkey.


















Good mates: cousins Thomas Chichester and Cameron Chalker.














Louise Chichester shows her form.


















Boys will be...hmmmm. Tim Mannering and Bryce Chalker.














Tim blows us away on sax.









Next morning a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs got everyone going again.

Kurt Chalker shows off his magnificent locks.

Unfortunately Angela missed out as she was still in hospital, but later at home she received a full report on video.

What a week! Now, amid tears of farewell it’s back to Cairns and the commencement of our journey westwards to Normanton and the Gulf.

Atherton antics

There’s a lot to see and do on the cool and undulating Atherton Tableland, especially if you’re with people who are in the know.

Atherton Tableland

We were treated like royalty by Carol’s cousin Lorraine Doolan, daughter of the late Peter (Piccolo) Dossetto, and her husband Ron at their Limousin stud farm in Yungaburra.

There we spent three nights after leaving our
van safely parked at Peter and Pam Goldsworthy’s property in Gordonvale.

The Doolan’s farm encompasses part of the upper reaches of the Barron River, an ideal spot for fishing and swimming, as their many grandchildren will attest.

Lunch time at Ravenshoe.

Lorraine and Ron have been at ‘Lorron’ since he retired as a butcher 20 years ago. He attached power and a massive pump for irrigation and they have since enjoyed a healthy and interesting lifestyle breeding cattle.

Very interesting – when you include the arrival of cyclone Larry in 2006, which wiped out a large steel shed, since replaced by a brand new one.

Windy Hill.

Ron and Lorraine took us on tours of the wonderful tableland haunts – the lakes: Tinaroo, Barrine and Eacham, and the massive Curtain Fig Tree, Millaa Millaa Falls, the wind farm at Windy Hill and the 82-metre deep Mt Hypipamee crater lake formed in ancient times by a volcano.

Millaa Millaa falls.

We lunched at Ravenshoe, which has the highest pub in Queensland, and called into other delightful and historic towns including Herberton, Malanda and Millaa Millaa.

A golf lesson

We also played golf with – and were duly thrashed by – Lorraine at the Millaa Millaa golf course, a challenging and well-maintained 9-hole (18 tee points) course that charges guests via an honour box a whopping $10 green fee. I don’t think you’ll find better value anywhere in Australia.

Not content with her golf lesson, Lorraine then humiliated us at Scrabble in the evening while Ron wisely watched the footy. In our defence we’d never used a Scrabble dictionary before.

Set for golf at Millaa Millaa.

Ron has a most interesting family history. His father Mick and grandfather Mick eked out a living as tin miners south west of Cooktown. His mum Gertrude was one of 14 children, nearly all born at home in Maytown on the Palmer River without a doctor in attendance.

Downtown Ravenshoe.

Ron – like Peter Goldsworthy, who by the way is one of 13 children – was raised in a world without electricity, running water or the other conveniences we take for granted.

Heffy Bowman, a friend of Ron’s Dad and a fellow tin miner died about five years ago and was buried in Mareeba. Ron says they had such a good relationship with the local Aborigines that six from the community of Wudjal Wudjal attended the funeral, brought flowers and sang at the graveside. One of them was Ruby Friday.

As a trip was on the cards to Cape Tribulation, only 33 kilometres from Wudjal Wudjal by 4WD, we promised Ron that weather permitting we’d call in and make ourselves known to Ruby.

Tribulation at the Cape

And so after the Tableland trip, Pam and Peter, Carol and I left Cairns in the Pajero, which by now had a new clutch fitted, and headed up to Cape Tribulation where we’d booked a couple of Safari tents.

Daintree River.

On the way to the car ferry over the Daintree River we called in at Port Douglas, now almost unrecognisable with Noosa-like resort development, and Daintree virtually unchanged since our last visit.

Daintree.

The Cape Tribulation region is unique because here tropical rainforest meets beach. We found the drive through canopy forest exhilarating and were really looking forward to some forest walks.

Cape Tribulation.

Alas, it was not to be. It rained for almost the entire two-day visit. We were thankful that at least our Safari tents with back balconies overlooking the forest were comfortable and dry. A group of French high school students in two-man hutchies were not so lucky.

Disconsolate Peter, waiting for the rain to stop.

Anyhow, we spent a lot of our spare time playing euchre, while contemplating the fact that we’d been well and truly euchred by the weather.

It also meant we had to abandon our plans to visit Wudjal Wudjal and Ruby Friday.

Sic transit gloria mundi.

Safari tents at right opposite blue hutchies housing French students.







Departing Cape Tribulation.











Baird bairns

On the way back to Pam and Peter’s place in Gordonvale, we called in at the home of Carol’s cousin Joy and husband Pat Baird in Cairns.

Pat and Joy Baird with children Mary Jane, Leanne (left) and Tony (right), and Mary Jane's partner Vince Ah Chin (centre).

Once again we found ourselves surrounded by kids: in this case Pat and Joy’s grandchildren. It was terrific to catch up with the family. Pat is one of Cairns’ more colourful characters and one of the kindest people you could hope to meet.

Baird grandchildren, back row: Simone Baird (who is a junior golf champion) and Teliah Ah Chin; front row; twins Brendan and Bella Baird, and Tony and Jodi Baird's foster child Daniella.

Afterward we decided to take the van away for a few days to Bramston Beach, a sleepy nook not far from Babinda, and our last sojourn before flying back to Sydney for a week for the birth of our daughter Angela’s second baby.

Cooktown capers

Cooktown is a frontier town – the last place where adventurers can enjoy a draught beer and clean sheets before heading into the north Queensland wilderness.

Morning tea en route to Cooktown.

It’s also where Captain Cook careened the bark Endeavour for repairs after stoving in hull planks on a reef just south off Cape Tribulation in June 1770, on his first voyage.

And 100 years later it was the entry point for the Palmer River gold rush that attracted 35,000 diggers and created 30 pubs (The population has since diminished to around 1,500).

The rock art at Laura featuring the Quinkan (good spirits) and animals was amazing.

So it was with more than passing excitement that we decided to team up with Carol’s sister Kay Bertini and cousin Pam Goldsworthy, and their spouses, to pay a visit.

We ditched the van and the Pajero, which needed a burnt out clutch to be replaced, hired an 8-seat Tarago and booked in two nights in cabins at a caravan park on the fringe of Cooktown.

The direct route to Cooktown is by 4WD on a dirt road up the coast from Cape Tribulation. We chose the bitumen, which sweeps in a westward arc and is a lot further, but safer.

After a beer at the historic Lion's Den just before entering Cooktown.


It also traverses some incredible countryside ranging from lightly forested savannah land to tropical wetlands and extraordinary mini mountains of black rock piled up eons ago by an angry volcano.

Stunning hill of volcanic black rock.

On the way we visited the tiny hamlet of Laura, which is a bit off the beaten track, to view some Aboriginal rock art. This was well worth the effort and we have to thank Kay for insisting on the
diversion.

Anchor and cannon from the Endeavour at Cooktown museum.

We found Cooktown to be a laid back, friendly and interesting, with a mixture of modern and colonial architecture. We had dinner at the local bowling club and did our own cook-up (no pun intended) the next night.

The Endeavour River from Grassy Hill.

In the meantime Paul ran into some old work mates in port on a State Government survey voyage and arranged for us to visit the ship -- it's a small world.

North-east to Lizard Island from Grassy Hill.

The two other highlights for me were the lookout at Grassy Hill and a visit to the local museum established in a restored Sisters of Mercy Convent.

Downtown Cooktown.

From Grassy Hill, 250 metres above sea level, we could stand at the spot where Cook climbed up to survey the coastline for a safe way out after the Endeavour’s smiths and carpenters had done their repairs.

You have to be there to understand how difficult it must have been for him to navigate through the reefs and shoals.

Carol, Kay and Pam with a cannon set up to keep out the Russians in an anxious past.

The museum dramatically showcases Cook’s encounter with the Aborigines, both from his own written notes and from the perspective of the Aborigines in an oral narrative handed down through the generations.

The last and only other time I was in Cooktown was as a reporter for the Sydney Daily Telegraph in 1970 as part of the press corps covering a Royal Tour.

I was pleasantly surprised this time to see in the museum a photo of Badu Islanders who came down by boat to perform for Her Majesty the Queen. It took me back to when I gave one of them a message to deliver to my old school mate Kevin Noonan who was then a teacher on Badu.

The message got there! Kev and I met up again in Brisbane May and recalled that time (see May blog archive).

Our trip to Cooktown was enormous fun as our group are around the same age and all were keen to make the most of it.

Kids and more kids

Just before the Cooktown escapade we connected with more of Carol’s relatives when Les (Carol’s first cousin) and Norma Maunder had their family over for a dinner party.

Norma and grandson Patrick.

It was at this event that I found myself totally confused (especially after a few beers) in figuring out who was who among the many babies, toddlers and teens.

It was part of Les and Norma’s ongoing 55th wedding anniversary celebrations. They now have five children, 12 grandchildren and five great grandchildren, and
another grandchild
Natasha is about to be married.

Carol homed in on the babies, which is only natural seeing as we haven’t seen our own grandkids for six months.


Carol and Emma Grace Kelly -- daughter of Sonya and Ben.












Les and Norma's grandchildren Patrick and Mathew -- two of David Maunder's four children who tragically lost their mother recently in a car accident.













Cousins Paris and Anthony Maunder.






















Lyn Pecotich with her grandchildren, Sonya and Ben's boys Jack and Lachlan.

























Lyn and Gordon Pecotich's daughters and grandchildren: Anita with Sonya's Emma and Sonya with Anita's Ryan.







Barra barby

We were also guests at a barbecue hosted by another of Carol’s cousins Pat Conlan and her husband Brian, one of Cairns’ colourful and legendary characters.

It was great to be able to catch up with them, their daughter Karen and her husband Trevor Jackson, whom we hadn’t seen for years, and their son Kevin and his partner Rebecca, and their children.

Brian cooked several kilos of barramundi and reef fish that he had caught himself on one of his regular fishing expeditions.

It was an unforgettable night.

Our next blog will talk about an enthralling visit to the Atherton Tableland – and our stay with yes, another of Carol’s cousins, and a quick trip to Cape Tribulation where we found ourselves euchred by the weather.