“Lost and alone on some, forgotten highway”
“Travelled by many, remembered by few”
Sang the great John Denver, and whilst technically I wasn’t lost (there was only one road), I was alone again, and on some forgotten highway between Townsville and Tennant Creek.
The previous couple of days had brought me to more or less the end of my funds as I’d stopped off in Townsville to dive the Yongala shipwreck. My last experience on the East coast is apparently one of the World’s top dive sites, and it didn’t disappoint. I joined my latest friendly shipmates and off we set. Fortunately, it seems I inherited the family’s Welsh sea legs and managed to keep my breakfast down as our little day tripper struggled to stay afloat amongst the huge waves giving us a relentless battering for the 3hr trip out to the dive site. On arrival, everyone stopped throwing up and began kitting up for some pretty spectacular diving. The large wreck had attracted all manner of huge fish, turtles and even a Leopard Shark which more than made up for the rough ride out. Back on shore we celebrated with plenty of drinks in Townsville’s surprisingly lively bar scene before once again, I moved on.
Now though, I was out on the open road, alone again, and lamenting the curse of the traveller who’s friends constantly come and go. More importantly, I could smell burning rubber. There couldn’t be too many travellers who drive the length of this road I thought, and even fewer who drive it twice. I wondered how many had indeed travelled the Barkly Highway in both directions, and then come to a calamitous halt on each occasion. I pulled over and checked all 4 tyres. Nothing burning or worrying there I thought, overlooking the fact that Gumdrop’s front bumper was now hanging on by only one screw, and was gradually being dragged underneath the car whilst being slowly eroded into oblivion by the tarmac. Ironically, my previous kangaroo calamity was obviously causing my latest, I just hadn’t spotted it yet. I drove on, still perplexed by the smell, until just as I approached Mount Isa, Gumdrop’s bumper could take no more. Slightly embarrassed, I picked up the pieces and set about my latest round of emergency outback repairs. Fortunately Mount Isa had a hardware store so I formed an impromptu bumper repair kit – 2 metal plates, 4 self tapping screws, some glue and a reel of red tape. It worked a treat and following my handiwork, not only was Gumdrop’s bumper in better shape than ever, but I could now re-employ the coat hanger splint as a radio ariel. Things were looking up.
I drove on nervously, looking both left and right at the menacing bush fires which may or may not have been started deliberately to control their otherwise eventual spread. Eventually I turned right at Tennant Creek and headed for the Top End, the region of Australia which, above all others, I was most looking forward to visiting. By now, I was well into my Bill Bryson book and decided to check out a couple of the highlights more hilariously documented in his book than they ever will be in mine. I found the Stuart Tree just off the Stuart Highway (of which, since leaving Adelaide, I had now driven almost the entire length) and similarly searched for the famous “S” inscribed by one of Australia’s most intrepid explorers many years ago. I may have found it, I’m not sure. Then I headed for Daly Waters, a small settlement in “middle of nowhere Northern Territory” which somehow enjoys a thriving and raucous nightly pub booze up. I was keen to find out why, and keener still to enjoy another genuine “Crocodile Dundee” style outback experience with some rough and ready bull riders. I walked in and ordered a pint as the barman from Bolton told me that The Villa had just lost at home to Portsmouth…
An illusion shattered, I moved on to Katherine, the largest town between Alice Springs and Darwin, but with still very little to write home about. Australia’s indigenous population was becoming ever more in evidence as I proceeded north, one of the reasons why I was so keen to head for Darwin rather than Sydney. In Katherine though, I became suddenly aware of the divide which still seems to persist between white and aboriginal Australia, as the town’s two populations seemed to live, work and shop together, whilst never acknowledging the other’s existence. A very surreal place I decided as the large numbers of indigenous people seemed invisible to their white counterparts, and vice versa. Far more knowledgeable and informed people than me have deliberated over this problem for a long time I’m sure, but it does seem a rather tricky one to solve. I’d learnt a bit about aboriginal culture during my time around Alice Springs and was mightily impressed by the incredibly instinctive knowledge and use of the land and nature, passed down through generations of stories and word of mouth. In a culture so untouched by the outside world for so long, where even the concept of building a permanent house to live in one place seems alien, how do you integrate it with the hectic rat race seen every day on the streets of Melbourne and Sydney? Beats me.
Time for adventure again though as the Northern Territory offers some of Australia’s most impressive and aggressive outdoor environments. Time to find a big crocodile.
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