Bruce this is just a quick final session which you may get a chance to read before we arrive - later I will spread it out - but this is just a short quick fix

SATURDAY

Blue skies with a fresh breeze in the morning. We have one of those peaceful days, BBQ lunch with Daphne and Ogdens. Mal gives the car a wash off. We have a quiet evening in and as most perfect days go there is nothing to dramatise - just being alive was enough.

SUNDAY

This is father's day and the kids either ring or send a text - that makes Mal very happy.

Still fine so we head off for Salvador Rosa National Park - Darryl and Lyn come about half way and the girls are in and out of the cars at each splash of spring colour. Dingo Durrell our fearless tour guide takes us on paths infrequently travelled, by him, and eventually not far past the Playfair turnoff they bid us farewell - we stop our way across numerous boggy bits and about 4pm arrive at the camp ground. Wayne and Judy from Maryborough are already there and we spend some time as the sun sets with our guitars and stories which are taller than the gums which tower overhead.

MONDAY

Judy and wayne depart and by 9.30 we are plunging Nosey into the deep water of Naogo River and heading for spy glass hill.

Mal makes desperate attempt to climb the last 80meters up to the large hole through the mountain, but he should have had an extra spoonful of courage, because 20 meters from the top he pikes and returns to the car. Well he never said he was a hero, but now any doubt (there really was none) is dispelled.

We stop at Louisa Creek picnic spot for a late morning tea and Sue photographs red and blue dragon flies.

We drive further up the valley, the road is sandy and in some places quite deep, Nosey handles it all with a calm assurance. We stop to photograph the wild flowers - one plant is quite unique to this area (homoranthus) and is a beautiful pink with a yellow centre and tiny leaves that almost look like little droplets of jelly stacked side by side.

We walk up to the old stock yards and the have lunch on some grass between vigorous growing gums at the springs. Sue stays on to try and photograph the red backed wrens, Mal goes back to Vicki for a camp.

Sue does get some photos which would sell if the wren was a famous movie star being naughty, otherwise one would say they are pretty average.

We stop at Belinda Springs for a quick look at the water just rushing out from the side of the hillside. The area is impregnated with ferns so it is hard to access the actual point where it all begins.

Well neighbours have moved in back at camp however we do camp in the same spot we had the night before which suits us just fine.

TUESDAY

Today is washing day and so we drag some water up from the river, which flows merrily past our camp. Sue washes Mal carries water up the hill and fills the camper up - Sue is going to wash her hair. Mal paints and reads, Sue manages to get some good photos of a red backed wren.

A currawong feeds it's youngster and spends way too much energy chasing the apostle birds around the campground - he or she does not manage to catch one - well not for the lack of trying - maybe tomorrow will be better.

In the afternoon we walk together along the ridge behind the campground, the large sandstone blocks are eroded into many beautiful shapes. On the way back to camp we chat with some of the neighbours, refugees from the Birdsville Races - obviously illegal boat people without a boat to get there - turned away at Quilpie.

Mal sits and plays the guitar and sings some songs, our neighbours call for more when he stops.

We retire to the mobile eco resort, another perfect day in paradise.

WEDNESDAY

We expected light showers which did not eventuate so we drove out of the National Park on basically a dry road where entry was a sliding around experience. Sunlight on the warm yellow sandstone had the bluffs sparkling, though as we came out of the valley and crested the hill where we got our first view of the red escarpments further to the west they were shrouded in haze.

We backtracked to tambo and got back onto the busy street. Augathella welcomed us as only a hungry meat ant can. We stocked up and drove past fields encrusted with yellow flowers. We stopped at Fisherman's Rest just West of Mitchell where we met Patrick Good and his partner Muriel. Patrick is into anything the walks, crawls, flies or swims. We had a great afternoon talking birds and lizards etc. The night was warm and only half a dozen other campers were here. It is a 48 hour free camp - not sure how many people abide by that rule - we are not going to be here long enough to find out.

THURSDAY

We top up with fuel, try and see Sally Thomas but she is off enjoying her young family so we depart Mitchell and head North. The road is mostly narrow sealed and runs along the Maranoa River valley. About 70k from Mount Moffatt it turns to gravel with a vengeance and we bump and rattle our way through state forests filled with cypress pine. Not far from the Park border is a small rest stop called the slab hut. A two room slab hut with a fence around it, an old mandarin tree grows hard up against the back wall but all the low hanging fruit is gone.

We stop near the park entrance and note an interesting walk which we plan to do on the way out. The day is running to a close so we push on to the campground which sits on a plain above a creek with rock pools but no running water.

The flies are very friendly as we walk down to check out the rock pools with their smooth sandstone outcrops reflected in the still water. In one place the sandstone has the most beautiful warm colours streaked and swirled through the rock.

Magpies and butcher birds chirp and chortle as we light a campfire. We bake some potatoes and cook chops and admire the threatening sky.

FRIDAY

A couple camped at the other end of the campground pack up and leave and we are alone. We pack up slowly and then drive further into the park, we visit Marlong Arch, the Kookaburra cave paintings and a large stone monolith called Lot's Wife.

The arch is just splendid because it is so even and so accessible. Next to it are three more pillars in a row. We clamber around the rocks and Sue spots wild flowers she has not seen before. Mal knock out a brief sketch which he will work on later - he sees the wall as a set of complete arches that existed before European invasion of Australia. He sees the rainbow serpent in a night sky and the row of arches a enigmatical bridge come wall between the past and the present.

We walk into the cave paintings - they are not extensive and feature a lot of painted hands and what look like the female vulva carved into the rock wall in high relief.

Lot's Wife is probably 50 feet across and 130 feet high flanked by trees which grow to the same height. Self important individuals have defaced the outcrop with their names - maybe the currently generation of travellers will settle for a selfie to post on facebook rather than the vandalism of this beautiful rock formation.

After lunch we decide to drive to a location named the Mahogany Forest it is about 14km from the road into the middle campground. We checked out the middle campground in case we want to double back to this location rather than staying at the Rotary Hut campground which is on the way to the forest.

We drive onto a road which has a sign saying 4 wheel drive only - shall enter here is implied as a bolt of lightning and an ominous clap of thunder underline the point.

We drive about 6k across a range of low ridges before turning more to the East and heading up a track that alternates between 3 inch gravel and sections of dark grey clay. We check out the Rotary camp ground - it is good but fairly exposed to a passing storm and we see the clouds have lowered their dark grey eyebrows to a frown.

We pretend we don't see and the road responds by being rougher and steeper and narrow. About 2k further on we are sliding sideways as face a slope that appears almost vertical as it disappears into a veil of mist that desperately wants to become rain. We don't need another clap of thunder we find a spot to turn, our wheels spins on the grass they are so covered in black mud.

We look at the sky and abandon the idea of camping at the Rotary camp, we make a feeble attempt to reach the incineration site which is much lower but we encounter more black mud, so we retreat to the middle camp.

The camp ground is by a small eroded creek bed with a small group of pleasantly eroded rock forms that harbour enough water for a bird bath. Sue does some wandering and Mal does some sketching.

Late in the afternoon, Mick and Di walk into camp - they are from Bendigo and are doing the Great Carnarvon Walk over 7 days. We shout Mick a beer and catch up on life in general.

We are all bedded down when the thunder can be heard and is followed by the rain.

SATURDAY

Mick and Di dry their stuff and have not gone far when the rain starts again. We hold fire and make a late start. After lunch the sun is making an attempt to find a passage between the clouds, so when it is briefly shining we scamper up to the rotary camp so we can try and go to the mahogany forest on Sunday.

The Rotary Camp is just terrific - it is on a saddle with a great lookout to the South - large cycads are interspersed between stately iron barks. We light a campfire and bake potatoes and watch the flies go to bed hanging onto blades of grass like dark grass seeds.

SUNDAY

Well we didn't get any rain so we decide that after lunch given some sunshine and a pleasant breeze the road, did I say road, I meant ladder, should be dry enough for another attempt.

So the morning sees Sue head off onto the ridge of broken rocks while Mal sketches the mountains to the South. So at about 12 noon we hear vehicles heading up the ridge - we decide that the road is not one to meet vehicles coming the other way so we quickly drop the roof and start the run up the hill for a second attempt.

The way is drier and we come to that really steep part which had stopped us on Friday. We select low range, lock the rear diff select second gear and we motor up that baby with rocks flying and engine roaring. We crest the top and the track swings down into a quagmire of mud and a greasy left turn before unfolding a steep pinch upwards which is a combination of red mud and basalt rocks. Over to the right is a bogged F250. Well we slide right through between the bank and that F250 and we give it a boot ful as we grope our way up that red mud slope and pop out onto a short track to the top shelter.

The other three vehicles have disgorged a pride of lions who are feasting on what ever lions feast on - yes it is ther Stanthorpe Lions 2016 club run.

We find out what UHF channel they are using (15) and we start the drive towards that Mahogany forest - it is just 2k down the road.

WE get to a steep slippery down slope of more red mud. We examine it and decide to park up and walk the last 1500m into the forest.

The track is basically drivable with a number of slippery slopes and a couple of deep muddy sections to traverse. We think we could have driven it but one slip up could have caused several days delay as we waited for the road to dry out and still the thick clouds threaten further vrain.

Unknown to us we walk through a massive forest of tall trees but we don't realise that this is the mahogany forest. A tiger snake makes a hurried departure from his favourite patch of sunlight as we approach.

We walk and walk and finally we reach the head of Canarvon Creek which was about 3.5k from where we left Vicki and Nosey. There is no spectacular view down the gorge from the end of the road. You look down into a descending landscape covered in a forest not quite open - there is no hint of the massive gorge which must be several km further around who knows how many bends.

We retrace our steps, a large black and white spotted pig charges out of the undergrowth on our left and dashes into the brush on our right and is gone. The clouds to the South very dark and there is a patch of blue sky that is the bluest sky we have ever seen - it is spooky.

Vicki and Nosey are resting peacefully when we return from a really fantastic walk.

We stop at the top shelter, now devoid of lions, the F250 has been either towed out or pushed over the edge - anyhow it is not visible.

We drive back to the middle camp and after the generous walk we take to our bed quite early.

MONDAY

Slow start as we only plan to relocate up to the camp next to the actual mountain called Mount Moffatt. We hang out some washing in the morning and Sue goes off up the ridge to look for her feathered friends, Mal retreats to the rocks in the creek.

We book another two nights at the ranger station and drive the 15k into the camp ground. On the way we spot a young goanna raiding a termite nest which is 8 feet up the side of a dead tree - he leaps the 8 feet to the ground when Sue tries to get a photo of him.

The camp ground is green grass and large shady trees right next to a creek that is slowly trickling from water hole to water hole. Across the creek is a red and ochre sandstone cliff face about 15 feet high which acts as a backdrop to the creek.

We go for a walk to look for the old homestead but fail to find it. In the evening we sit by a slow fire and reflect on the peace and tranquillity.

Well tranquillity is a relative term, there is a moon dance on tonight as it happens and every frog with a song to sing is at the dance - they slow to a steady roar as the sun lightens the Eastern skyline.

TUESDAY

Today is like our last day for the trip. We do what we love which is searching for birds and catching up on some painting. In the afternoon we sit by the campfire and reflect on a great trip. The frogs have a hangover and only Nigel no-friends knocks out a soulful tap on his bamboo drum.

The breezes surge through the trees like a surf break, each seventh or so wave larger than those preceding it. We feel like the clear waters rush overhead and then subside in a flurry of froth.

WEDNESDAY

We are packed and on the road by 8.30am. It is 15k along a very quiet track back to the ranger station. Two dingos walk towards us along the road, Sue gets a shot in through the windscreen before the bolt for the bush.

Three black cockatoos slip through the trees and out of range. There is some cloud around and rain does not seem impossible.

We do the 5.8k circuit walk to see the rocks and cave paintings - Sue finds a pardalote nest and gets some photos - the day is running so smoothly.

Just after lunch we start the drive South to stop at Claravale Station. The property is owned by an old friend of Sue's and she has not been to visit there before - it is a great opportunity.

The clouds have built up in the South and by the time we reach the Claravale turn a light shower has already passed through. We reason that if we get to Claravale and the rain sets in we can stay a couple of days till the country dries out. The road is gravel and has not long ago been graded. So we make the turn and while there is a short section that is slippery we poke on.

We are 5k in on a down hill slope when we loose traction and we start sliding into the table drain. Mal steers into the slide and as the back wheels get to the bottom of the table drain first he is able to get just enough grip to drive the car back up onto the crown of the road - ah yes but we are at 90 degrees to the centre line of the road. We do a 50 something point turn, gradually nudging the car around to point back the way we came.

We start slowly back up the road, it is barely possible to move the car forward through the sticky and slippery mud. Then we start to loose the rear end, she wants to find that table drain again as the road is sloping from side to side.

We lower the tyre pressures, 25psi front 30psi rear - we creep forward, she is holding, Mals shoes have two inches of mud on them, he very carefully gets the car up the slope onto a section of gravel - we are able to retrace our steps back to the bitumen.

We consider staying at a free camp by the river about 35k North of Mitchell - that is still 50k away. As we get nearer the rain sets in and it just gets heavier. By the time we reach the turn it is obvious that driving back onto an unknown, unsealed track as the light fades is not such a good idea. We drive into Mitchell and camp by the weir.

The rain keeps up a steady beat on our roof.

THURSDAY

We arise early in the trailer park - and we scoot off towards Roma. We catch up with Jess, Tyson and Ryley - great to see them again. The small train set dominates the lounge room. Sue had fun playing trains so it is not surprising that she was blessed with three sons.

We drove home through the rain, it rained at various rates and the countryside looked green and lush - unusual for this part of Queensland that often tends to err on the dry side.

We had a lovely lunch with sister Jill in Dalby and then arrived home about 4pm, muddy, wet but more experienced than when we left.

No where is that map of Australia....... mmmmmmm that place looks good, yes 1804km with a side track add an extra 437km ......... the birds look promising.......... and some interesting geological formations for Mal to engage with, mmmmmmm,

"Honey, how many dollars do we have in the travel account?"