Across the Top  (Cairns - Darwin)

• Map of trip section

Early in the morning, Trevor went to Burketown to have the punctured tyre patched. While he was gone, horses and yearling cattle ambled across the campground to get their morning feed. Evie, Torsten and Claudia fed horses, Shetland ponies and cattle with bread and apples. One heifer didn’t want to part with Torsten. We reckon that anybody who grew up in the Northern German region of Anglia (which is were the Anglian, a.k.a. Holstein or Frisian cows originated) must be an expert with cattle!

The dirt road to Lawn Hill was very good, we passed the grader on the way. Nice landscape, quite a few gates to open and close. Co-drivers also need some exercise after all, and they’ll get plenty of it on this road!

In the small hamlet of Gregory Downs we stopped to fill up the car and get some food in the tiny supermarket. They had run out of bread, and the road train was only due the following day. We had enough for our stay in the park and hoped to get some in Adel’s Grove (next to the park) on the way out.

But, we did get beautiful steaks for tea and a roll of fishing line for Trevor, 'made in Germany‘!

In Lawn Hill we had enough time for a relaxed smoko in front of the rangers‘ office, as they’re closed over lunchtime. The campground is very nice, clean, if basic washrooms with flushing toilets and cold showers. All in all: a luxurious bush camp. You should, however, carry enough insect repellent, as the local mosquitos may carry MVE (Murray Valley Encephalitis) and Ross River Fever.

At 10 a.m. and 30 degrees we headed out to the walking track leading up a hill to the Indarri Falls Lookout. We needed 1.5 hours for the 3.6 km return walk. The track first leads you off the campground under a shady canopy of trees upstream along Lawn Hill Creek, then turns left and follows a tree and shadeless plain to a steep ascent. The first view on the creek and the camp is worth the effort. Clear blues skies, the emerald green Lawn Hill Creek with its dense fringe of trees, kites circling the skies above the camp. And the peace and quiet out there! Every now and then, a sulphur crested cockatoo would fly past. After another couple of nice lookouts we had to walk across a plateau to the end of the trail, Indarri Falls Lookout. The falls plummet over a natural stone ledge. They’re about two to three metres tall. Pandanus palms grow around them on the ledge. From above, the water looks dark blue to dark green. In the afternoon we’d hire two canoes to paddle up the creek and take a closer look. You can swim in Lawn Hill Creek, there’s only freshies, of which we didn’t catch a single glimpse.

We spent the hot hours of midday in the shade next to our cars, had a refreshing shower, then picked up our canoes and slowly paddled up the creek. Calm water, steep reddish walls, dense vegetation on the fringe. At the falls we pulled the canoes ashore. Trevor and Torsten carried one up the ledge to continue on the upper part of the creek. At the end of that part, they paddled through a narrow inlet into a small pool. There, they disembarked to explore the bank on foot. In doing so, Trevor took an involuntary bath, as he slipped and fell into the creek.

Evie and Claudia stayed at the falls and relaxed in the sun. Four young German tourists, one bloke and three sheilas, swam to one of the waterfalls that has a natural whirlpool, as it plummets into a small, natural stone pool. They returned hurriedly after seeing a fairly large brown snake curled up underneath the waterfall, not being able to identify it. Oh well, Evie and Claudia hadn’t wanted to swim, anyway….. On the way home we met the four again, circling a snake that was trying to swim across the river. Trevor identified it as a harmless olive python. The poor snake kept coiling up and was obviously relieved when everybody moved on.

Later that night, Trevor let his car’s engine run for a while to load the fridge battery. An Aussie co-camper complained right away. Trevor turned the engine off, and we could hear the other bloke for at least 10 minutes, complaining loudly to other campers that we had disturbed the peace and quiet of the place. 

Didn't find the key to turn that very noise off, though...

• Map of trip section

The road was mostly good, as the grader had just passed through. Behind Doomadgee, it became a trifle rougher with a few corrugations here and there. We had to cross two small, water bearing creeks. All other creek crossings, including the long concrete causeway of the Nicholson, were dry.

The first part of the road leads across Lawn Hill Station. A wallaby, startled by us approaching, quickly hopped through one of the two water bearing creeks. Unfortunately, it was too quick for us to get our cameras ready. Shame, what a wonderful motive that would have been!

Crossing the station, we had to open and close five or six gates. On both sides of one of them, about 100 cattle were having what looked like a chew-in. Some of them were only two or three metres away from the gate. They watched us with a gently bored expression on their faces. On the way from Lawn Hill to Doomadgee, you should first follow the signposts (some of them quite small) to King Fisher Camp (KFC). After crossing the Nicholson, turn left at an unmarked T-junction.

• Map of trip section

The best stretch of the whole trip! Sixteen wet creek and river crossings, among which the Calvert River with a very rough bed and the Robinson River, deep but easy to negotiate.

Today we crossed the border between Queensland and the Northern Territory, which we entered in style and engulfed in a cloud of red dust. Behind Wollogorang (NT) the road was heavily corrugated. Contrary to what a Belgian tourist had told us the previous day in Hells Gate, we could most certainly drive faster than 10 to 15 kph. 80 kph does the trick, you float across the corrugations. The nasty bit was that some of them were hidden underneath a thick layer of bulldust. Ah well, that’s part of the fun, we suppose. Some of the dry creek beds were badly washed out. The landscape reminded us a little of the Kimberley: hills, pieces of rock, trees and bushes.

Three aboriginal blokes had broken down with their ancient Landcruiser, and we stopped to see if we could help them at all. It turned out that we couldn’t, so we took a note for the police in Borroloola and left them some bread, cheese and 20 litres of water.

When we came to the Calvert, and once Trevor and Evie had caught up with us, we left the cars to have a close look. The road leads over the new causeway,  we could see the old one a bit further upstream. The new causeway was destroyed during the last wet season. At that spot, the bed of the Calvert is uneven, both in shape and depth, with small and fairly large boulders and bits and pieces of the causeway at the far end (coming from Hells Gate that is). Torsten and Trevor put on their bathers, sneakers and thongs and walked through to find the best way.  Use caution, you can't go straight through, there is a hole in the middle of the crossing, too deep for a car! The passage the blokes found was quite bumpy, but didn’t pose any problems. The deepest bit we had to negotiate was 66 cm (measured!). We went first, then taped Evie and Trevor coming through. As we watched that scene later on, we were quite impressed by the swaying of the car, but also by the Landcruiser’s power (Trevor drives a Landcruiser 100, for those who care. Only the heavy duty, as our rental car, is a bit better).

Crossing the Robinson River was a stroll in the park by comparison. The water was axle-deep, though. At the far side, a middle-aged couple had settled down for a snack – or to watch other drivers crossing the Robinson. The latter must have been it, judging from the eager look on their faces when we approached. What a pastime, waiting for hours for somebody to come along!

In Borroloola we went straight to the police station. Looked like that wasn’t the first time those blokes had broken down, because the policemen started to snigger. As Torsten delivered the note, one of the coppers said „Thanks mate, you’ve done a good job.“

The campground in Borroloola has beautiful grassy sites surrounded by trees and flowers.

• Map of trip section

Today’s drive led us through a beautiful landscape and across, or rather: through, twenty-one wet creeks. The road was in a very good condition up to the turnoff to Nathan River Station, where it became slightly corrugated and where some of the creek crossings were quite washed out. We passed a number of billabongs covered in waterlilies, with ducks on the water and brolgas on the banks. Our biggest river of today, the Cox, was in shambles, driftwood from the last wet lining its banks and riverbed. The concrete causeway was alright, though. On the far side we pulled over to wait for Trevor and Evie. When they caught up, we all turned right to Limmen Bight Fishing Camp (50 km return). The track leading there was one-lane, washed out, slightly bumpy and sandy. The men had the time of their lives driving it. The fishing camp is very basic, but has hot showers, water needs to be heated in a ‚donkey‘. As you can’t do anything there but fish, and best need a boat to do so, we had a cut lunch, used the amenities and headed back to the main road.

We were the first to arrive at Roper Bar and turned off to the bush camp, only to return to the turnoff to wait for Evie and Trevor, as a sign at the bush camp informed us to check in at the store 2 km further down the road. Might be an idea to put that sign up at the turnoff to the camp. Trevor and Evie had another technical problem between Limmen Bight and Roper Bar, almost losing one of their car’s rear wheels, as two wheel nuts had gone missing without a warning. They didn’t have any in the small workshop at the Roper Bar Store, so this will have to wait till Katherine.

Down at the camp, Trevor placed a net in the Roper River in the hopes of catching Cherubim (yabbies) for dinner. Our hopes were disappointed. The other campers, though, hadn’t caught anything yet either.

To top it all off, both our gaslights‘ glass screens had broken. Bad timing. Luckily enough, we had a full moon and sat outside till late at night, spinning yarn and sharing one or the other beer.

We didn’t do much today. We shopped for a few things at the store, then drove down to the bar itself and had a look at the burnt-down ruins of a homestead and the monument commemorating Ludwig Leichhardt’s crossing of the Roper Bar. We also crossed it, but only stayed on the far bank to take some pics, as that side of the river already belongs to Arnhem land which may only be travelled with a permit.

A narrow, rather bumpy track took us a short way down the river, where we got out to have a better look. We stood on the riverbank, which was quite high, and took in the scenery. After a while, a loud splash tore us out of our daydreaming, and we caught a glimpse of a freshie disappearing in the water. It had sunbaked only a few metres away from us without us realising it was there.

After returning to the camp, Evie and Claudia grabbed their books and chairs, while Trevor and Torsten went for a walk along the river. They didn’t see any further crocs, though.

That evening, we had company from another camper, Tooley, who came over for a drink and a yarn, bringing his red heeler bitch Jarrah along and his gaslight!

• Map of trip section

This day was cold in comparison, only 24 degrees. Trevor and Evie went first, just in case they’d get into trouble with their missing wheel nuts. A slight drizzle flecked our windscreen, but stopped before long.

Not too far away from the Roper Bar bush camp, Trevor and Evie pulled over to talk to an Aboriginal, then let him get into their car and drove on to a T-junction, were there were another four Aboriginals waiting. Trevor waited for us to catch up, then said the blokes had a problem with their car, he’d see if he could help them, they’d not be long and we should wait there. And off they went. We turned off the engine, opened the windows and waited. Of the four blokes waiting for their mate to return, we had seen two at the Roper Bar Store the previous day. After a short while, one of them, an old man, came over to our car. He introduced himself as George. George had to attend a meeting of the Arnhem Land Council in five days. The young bloke, whose car had broken down, was supposed to take him to Katherine. If we could take him? We declined politely, explaining that we only had two seats and that the back was full with our belongings. Could we ask our mate when he came back? We assured him that he could ask himself, as Trevor was a nice guy. Torsten gave George cigarettes for the whole lot and 20 litres of water, as they didn’t have anything. Two fags later on, Torsten walked over to the four and gave them bread and a few meat tinnies, our emergency rations, which we didn’t need anymore with the prospect of a fully stocked Coles ahead of us in Katherine. Torsten and George started talking and soon hunkered down in the middle of the T-junction, talking animatedly, while the three young blokes stood a bit to the side and Claudia stayed in the car. It turned out that George is the tribal elder of the East Arnhem Land District. What a picture that would have been, but Claudia didn’t want to intrude on George’s privacy. Trevor and Evie also thought it was quite a sight, when they came back.

Trevor had managed to jump-start the young bloke’s car, but they didn’t trust the wreck to get them to Katherine safely and called the plan off. Finally, Trevor and Evie gave George a lift to Mataranka. The drive was calm except for some horses crossing the road at top speed. Luckily enough, Trevor had seen them and pulled to a halt.

At the Mataranka township limits, we all pulled up and decided that we would go straight to the thermal pools and that Trevor and Evie would find a public phone for George so he could call the Land Council.

In the visitors centre of the thermal pools, we treated ourselves to hot pasties and ice-cold cola. Trevor and Evie came about half an hour later. They had found a phone for George, who called the Land Council, who in turn would send someone to pick him up and get him to Katherine in time for his plane. Trevor and Evie then bought him a cut lunch, gave him bread and meat tins and some change (he didn’t have anything on him). George is over 80 years old, though he doesn’t know the exact date of his birth. On parting, he told Trevor to contact him directly if they ever needed a permit for Arnhem Land.

After Evie and Trevor got a snack at the kiosk, too, we put on our bathers and headed for the pools. To get there, you take a boardwalk among mangroves. The damages of the last wet were still very visible. The pools were so warm that the air seemed cold, and so comfy that we didn’t want to get out again. After an hour of lazily floating around we finally mustered the courage and left. Our first stop in Katherine was Coles, were we bought meat and vegies and beer for a BBQ-tea. We had pre-booked two neighbouring sites on the Low Level Caravan Park a few kilometres outside of Katherine. It was quite funny to see the other campers standing next to their spotlessly clean motor homes and caravans watching our dusty cars going past. The Low Level is a very nice, fully-equipped campground, beautifully laid out, grassy and shady sites, and yet…. after spending two weeks in the bush, too civilized for us, thank you… too loud, to crowded (all by comparison). We missed the wallabies and the sounds of the bush at night and the untarnished view of the starry skies and the quiet mornings….

The bush close to the campground was being burned down, which resulted in smoke and a light fall-out of cinders for breakfast.

Today, the boys did their thing and the girls did theirs, too. The boys braved the perilous waters, crocodiles and tour boats of the Katherine Gorge, the girls went shopping. Evie and Claudia didn’t find much to spend their money on and finally retreated into a snack bar to treat themselves to scones and whipped cream and a huge milk shake. They returned to the Gorge about an hour before the boys were due back and picked a nice spot next to the landing spot and in the sun to wait for them. A spot, that is, well out of range of the dozens of fruit bats hanging in the surrounding trees. Their poop stinks!

Trevor and Torsten returned tanned, happy as Larry and half soaked. They made it right into the third gorge. Between the gorges are small, rocky and shallow chutes. Canoes are supposed to be pulled over these chutes going in and going out. Well, they did pull their canoe on the way upstream (i.e. in). On the way out, they drove them, which is forbidden, but some people did. About 20 litres of water swashed into their boat, they were soaked from feet to midriff, almost capsized at the last chute, and had a whale of a time. If the Sergeant Major knew…!

To good friends.

  read part 3