The HayRiverTrip 12-21 July

A new morning and a new trip with a new group of travelling companions. We all met at the Birdsville Bakery for our pre-departure meeting. A quick trip inside to buy our lunch for later on the day: a curried camel pie and a kangaroo and claret pie. We were a bit dismayed to find that there were to be a total of 10 cars in the convoy. This would mean more time to get anywhere, more possibility of problems with cars (or individuals…), more difficulty finding a big enough campsite for so many and so on.

The first part of the journey was back west to Big Red along the last of the smooth roads for the entire trip. Before we had even ascended the big sand dune, one of our party turned back to Birdsville abandoning the tour - a gearbox oil leak into the CV joint was too serious to risk carrying on. So within an hour we were down to 9 cars!

Going back across the dunes from east to west was much easier than the other way we had come. The tracks were not nearly so chopped up on the approach side and the rougher track on the downhill run did not matter so much.

Since we had already been to Poepple Corner only a day or so before, we opted to sit and relax at the Hay River turnoff at the edge of a saltpan while the others all went off to 'do' the Corner. Cars came and went while we waited and the occupants sometimes stopped to chat and pass on the latest information about the state of the tracks. The flies came out in armies to bother us - standing still for more than a few seconds meant carrying an extra few kilos of the little b******s.

The Hay River track heads roughly north -south and so there was not the continuous climb and descent of sand dune after sand dune. We travelled mostly between the dunes or on top of them, roughly parallel to their orientation. Along the way were oil wells, not in operation though and mostly just capped pipes in the ground. Apparently they are not economic at present and so are non-producing but who knows what may happen in the future. Oil being exploited in this pristine environment in the future is not a happy thought. One of the wells had a well maintained gravel airstrip close by - an opportunity for three of the group to indulge in a bit of drag racing.

The first couple of nights brought thunderstorms with extraordinary lightning and thunder shows and a fair amount of wind, though the amount of rain was fortunately minimal - we had enough of the cold and miserable rain the last trip! And for a change the days were warm (over 30°), with little trace of the cold winter winds that we had experienced up to now.

After heading roughly north for a couple of days our track turned 90 degrees to the east following a so-called shotline. This was one of the surveyed lines along which detonations produced seismic surveys for past explorations in the region. It was not a road, not even a track; it wound back and forth between the sand dunes and over them. Nothing was smoothed over and the car swayed side to side and backwards and forwards for over 16 kilometres - some of the most uncomfortable driving we have had in the whole trip. The dunes here were not as large and in the Simpson Desert but some were still quite steep and challenging.

As we progressed north along the track we followed part of the route of the explorer Madigan. Posts with markers indicated where his camps were when he and his party travelled on foot with camels - progress was quite small between camps, a testament to the difficulty of his trailblazing journey.

Madigan left a blaze in a tree - appropriately known as Madigan's Tree - and although we had the right tree, the blaze is all but covered over by new bark and was difficult to make out.

All along the track the scenery changed frequently. Many areas were cover with thick tracts of new growth acacia, encroaching onto the track and pin-striping our dust and duco. In other places yellow cassia bushes were interspersed with grey spinifex. Purple-flowered bush fuchsias clumped together and lined the track. Yellow and white daisies called poached-egg daisies carpeted every available piece of spare ground and scattered themselves along the middle of the track. At times we travelled up the dry riverbed of the Hay River itself, only leaving the soft sand to divert around the washouts or the debris in the riverbed. The riverbed was easy to see, lined with river red gums bending over the dry watercourse, many in danger of collapse should the next torrent through erode more of the bank. Small eucalypts, a year or two old and an indication of good rain the last couple of years, grow close to the edge of the track and we sometimes had a few tense moments squeezing between two close growing ones. As they get older and bigger and encroach on the track more, it is the track that will have to move - not the trees!

We detoured to Lake Caroline, a vast expanse of a lake which has been a reliable water source for the local Aborigines. Mostly dry lakebed with small hills rising from it, there were however large shallow pools of water reflecting a beautiful blue desert sky and the scene was superb. The claypan around the water had a crisp crust that gave way to a soft boggy underneath as you walked on it.

That night we camped in the riverbed itself on the soft sand. With water nearby we saw more birds that we had seen up to now: corellas, cockatoos, top-knot pigeons, mulga parrots and evidence - footprints in the sand - of emus.

After we crossed the Tropic of Capricorn marked with a rough hand painted sign, the track became easier to negotiate and we could pick up our speed. Batton Hill camp was our first non-bush campsite for 6 days and a hot shower was the most appealing thing in the world for all of us. Batton Hill is on Aboriginal land, a fairly rough campsite but equipped with proper flush toilets and donkey-heated water for the showers. Lindsey Bookie, the elder of the mob here, runs the camp also taking people out on bush-tucker tours around the property.

After being woken by thousands of short-billed, loud-mouthed corellas screeching at six o' clock in the morning, we all headed out in our cars in convoy behind Lindsey. Every now and then, he'd stop and point out some plant or other and convince us to have a try. The bush oranges were past their prime and so not edible but the bush currants, little black raisiny things, were sweet. We tried bush bananas and bush coconuts, though I drew the line at eating the grubs and tiny winged insects that lived inside the latter and which were considered a delicacy. In the late afternoon as the sun slanted downwards we drove out onto a neighbouring station to see Goyder's Pillar in the evening sunset, a scene of stunning colour change to rival Chamber's Pillar and Uluru.

The next day (after an early start initiated by the bloody corellas again), we left the Hay River track and hit the Plenty Highway. Well, 'highway' here is used in the loosest sense of the word. It is really a dusty dirt road though it did offer enough width for two cars. Jervois Station had fuel and a treat - an ice cream - and a heritage listed 'rocket shelter'. During the rocket tests at Woomera, about 19 or 20 of these shelters were built on various stations as the rocket testing was considered dangerous to the locals. Bits of a rocket sat in the grass behind the bowsers so maybe they weren't too far offthe mark. This earth and turf covered A-shaped structure has walls over two metres thick but is now used as a tyre storage. When we asked if we could have a look, the owner agreed adding that it would be OK as it was cold and the snakes probably wouldn't be a bother…

The highway offered us another novelty or two - traffic and the biggest termite mound on the Plenty. We continued to the state border along scenery that changed very little. Compared to the rich ever-changing environment we had been travelling through, the flat spinifex country often stretching to the horizon made for tedious driving. But the riverbed in the Georgina River that night was yet another great campsite and our last bush camp of the trip.

Boulia was the first 'metropolis' since Birdsville. With the Boulia Camel Races on we expected to see a bustling little town with plenty of visitors. Instead you could have fired a cannon down the main street and only hit a pair of casually strolling brolgas. Apparently the races were out of town and everyone was there. We had our first good coffee for weeks at the (only) coffee shop and stocked up at the surprisingly well-stocked general store.

We turned off the highway, now called the Donohue, onto rougher roads again. We saw Wedgetail Eagles feasting on fresh roadkill, hundreds of red kangaroos in the paddocks, many with joeys, and cattle with calves. We crossed the Diamantina River, the first river we have seen with water in large billabongs and travellers were fishing in its waters. Old Cork Station ruins sit near the banks of the river. What was once a substantial sandstone house was abandoned about 1960 and, though work is being done to preserve it, it is in a sad state of disrepair.

And so to Carisbrooke Station for the night. This property has provided a campground with its camp kitchen facilities in the old shearing shed. Lovely hot showers again (what luxury!) and a communal firepit to warm ourselves around after dinner.

The last day of the trip included a trip to Lark Quarry to see the dinosaur stampede footprints, the only known example in the world of a dinosaur stampede. A fancy state-of-the-art building of corrugated iron and rammed earth protects the now uncovered fossilised prints. What an extraordinary thing it is. Here in this very spot stood small chicken-sized dinosaurs drinking at a waterhole. And right here a three metre tall sauropod frightened them and caught one for its dinner 95 million years ago. Fantastic!

And so naught to do but get to Winton and celebrate the end of a wonderful journey with a good bunch of travelling companions with a meal (which, incidentally, for anyone travelling to Winton was excellent) and a drink or three at the Tattersalls Hotel, Winton.

Thank you 'Misty' for your sterling performance as our guide and leader on two memorable adventures into the heart of Australia.