Our agenda after that for our first full day at Isisford was simple...a nice long walk around the township, some fishing from the banks of the Barcoo River, a drive to the edge of town to visit the aerodrome (a must-do for every town we visit), collect more firewood and build a big fire once settled back at camp for the day.
It was probably the coolest day we had experienced in close to four months. There was a strong, blustery south easterly and patchy cloud cover, so temperatures didn't move much over 20. I had the fire going by three, then set to trying my hand at bread-making. Brian dug a pit for the camp oven and we baked our first loaf of bush bread. I won't say it was a total success. We ended up with a rather flat loaf of very dense, and I must say, quite delicious bread. We ate it hot with butter, then had some more.....and some more until it ended up being dinner!
People had been walking along the track past our van with buckets. We wondered what they were doing. In conversation with our neighbours Phil and Tracey we discovered there was a large dam just a few hundred meters away that was supposedly full of Redclaw (a kind of yabbie). Excellent - we would put our cherabin pots in and try our luck. Brian had also spoken to the bloke in the van on the other side of us who'd been camped on the river for 14 weeks. He hadn't caught one fish in the Barcoo in all that time, but he knew of others who were going to Oma Waterhole and Thirty Mile and bringing home fish every day.
We wandered into town Monday morning and went to the Council Offices. We paid $10 for 9 days (the receptionist gave us 2 days free), and got directions to Sixty Mile, which was past Oma, about an hour's drive. The middle part of the day was taken up with work. Selling aeroplanes (for Brian), washing a very grubby James (for me), topping up the water tanks, emptying the loo, getting a gas bottle re-filled and of course, the fun bit, gathering another load of wood. We can head out of town along any of the roads or stock routes for three or four kilometers, pull up by the side of the track and get a full load in 10 - 15 minutes.
Phil and Tracey are good company. They have a 17 year old Maltese type dog named Macca. He's a bit naughty and wanders off all the time. They are forever chasing him and carrying him back to camp. He's a bit blind and deaf, and has a very bad temper. He likes to bite people. They think James is adorable, which he is compared to Macca! We chat to them often mostly while they are chasing after Macca. We stood around and yarned to them for ages on the way back from our walk up to the dam to put our pots just before dark.
Next morning Brian braved a very chilly dawn to check the pots. James and I stayed in bed, drank coffee and did the daily Nomads Notes journal. From two pots we caught a couple of reasonably sized Redclaw which Brian decided to keep asleep in the fridge until we've caught enough for a meal.
Late morning we jumped in the Beast with our lines and headed out on the dirt road south of town to Oma Waterhole. It's only 13 km from Isisford and is an optional $10 per week camp area serviced by the council. There were lots of camps alongside the two kilometer section of the Barcoo that is Oma. We stopped and had a chat to an old bloke fishing. He wasn't having much luck. We continued on a further 37 km to Thirty Mile. The dirt road was good and aside from having to slow down regularly for kangaroos, cattle and emus the Beast roared along at a hefty pace.
We pulled up at Thirty Mile beside an old windmill, got the lines out and threw them in. The Barcoo in the drought is a series of permanent waterholes rather than a running river and this section was the wider than either Oma or at our camp. Within 3 or 4 minutes I had a bite and landed a 35 cm yellow belly. How easy was that! It took just over an hour to land six fish between us, only one of which was undersized and went back. We had well and truly enough for a couple of meals and James was desperately in need of a drink. Because of his bath the day before I wouldn't let him walk through the cattle-churned bog at the water's edge and I wouldn't let him move from my side anyway because there were signs up that the area was baited. That is always a big concern in the outback.
At the van I pulled out the Ipad and did some research - firstly on baked whole yellow belly recipes and secondly on what to do in the event of 1080 poisoning. I decided to improvise on the recipe, and stuffed the two smallest fish with a mixture of breadcrumbs, onion, garlic, oregon, salt, pepper and left over salad dressing made on the stove from white vinegar, balsamic vinegar, sesame oil, caster sugar and olive oil. Brian filleted the rest of the fish for freezing. As far as treating James in the event of poisoning is concerned the best option given I think is to carry some salt and water and a plastic water bottle so if I see him eat something I can squirt it down his throat (hopefully not into his lungs) to try and make him vomit straight away. I am also going to buy a muzzle as soon as we get to a big enough town so he can wear it in places of doubt. He'll really love that....not! The yellow belly got wrapped in plenty of foil and baked on the coals. It was absolutely scrumptious.
Wednesday we jumped on the bikes to do some more exploring around Isisford. The electric bikes have been excellent. The rack that Blackie made to carry them has held them securely on the back of the van, contrary to popular advice that they would be rattled to bits over rough roads. They have been covered in red dust, drenched in rain and ridden over badly corrugated tracks without missing a beat. Not bad for two girls bikes that were primarily designed for city commuting. We haven't managed to run out of battery on any of our rides. When we get down to one out of four lights on the power meter, which takes about 50 km or so, we still have heaps of km's to go and it's easy to plug in and recharge when the generator is running or we're on a powered site. Since filling the tyres with yellow goo we haven't had a puncture either, which is amazing given the length of the spikes on some of the burrs.
After riding along a rough track that took us to a part of the river that curled around the back of town we decided to find the cemetery. They are usually pretty interesting in old towns. On the way Brian nearly ran over a small golden snake without seeing it. I freaked and screamed like a girl, which is not like me. I'm usually pretty laid back with critters. We doubled back and had a good look as it slowly slithered across the track. We found the sign 'Cemetery' and followed the track only to find another sign a bit further on that said 'Carcass Pit'. What a classic. They weren't one and the same as it turned out, but we did think the co-location was a bit on the insensitive side. We ended up spending ages reading the headstones, the earliest of which was dated 1884. It was sad to see graves with multiple, often young family members who died in close succession. It was getting on for 2pm when we left there and we were both starving. We called into pub number two in town, 'Clancy's Overflow', had sausage rolls and a bowl of the best chips in the world (so the sign said) accompanied, of course, with a little liquid refreshment.
On the way back to camp we called in to pick up bread but the store had run out. Bugger - I would have to make some. I found a recipe for honey oatmeal loaf and spent the rest of my day up to my elbows in flour, with a break to go wood gathering and fire building. Phil, Tracey and Macca came over just on dark and shared the fire while the bread was cooking in the camp oven. It smelt delicious....and in fact it was!
Thursday we decided to hit Thirty Mile again and try to catch dinner. We took some sandwiches and left around midday, leaving James in the van. It's too risky taking him where poison baits have been laid. Baiting around waterholes is very common in the outback. It's understandable given the number of feral cats, pigs and dingoes we see, mostly as roadkill. The fishing was much slower than Tuesday with bites few and far between. After about an hour I pulled in a fair sized yellow belly, not enough for two for dinner, so we had to stay till we got another. It was at least an hour later that Brian caught the second - a beautiful 42 cm fish.
It was close to 5 by the time we got back. James was desperately in need of lots of cuddles. Once the fire was going Tracey and Phil came over for a chat. They were very envious of our catch. We cooked the stuffed fish on the coals and it was delicious.
By Saturday morning Brian had collected a total of 14 Redclaw - enough for dinner. My plan was to
butterfly them and bake them in the Webber with a garlic, lemon and butter sauce drizzled over. They would be served on a bed of Spiced Indian Rice. Yum!
butterfly them and bake them in the Webber with a garlic, lemon and butter sauce drizzled over. They would be served on a bed of Spiced Indian Rice. Yum!
We did the chores - washing, water, dunny blah blah with the intention of settling in front of the TV for the afternoon to watch the V8 Supercar racing at Townsville. We fiddled around with the TV for ages but couldn't pick up the channel we required. No problem - we'd ride up to the pub and watch it there.
The race was due to start at 3.15 so we got to Clancy's a bit before. The pub was empty and the publican was only too happy to oblige and turn the telly on. Well wouldn't you know it, Isisford picks up Alice Springs stations and it was footy on, not car racing. Bugger! We were already seated at the bar so we figured we might as well do the right thing and supplement the town's income. Shortly after an old bloke drove up in his gopher. He struggled off it and shuffled very unsteadily through the door and on to a stool at the end of the bar. He looked about 110. His shirt was tucked into his tracksuit pants which were pulled up so high they were just about under his armpits.The publican had his scotch and water in front of him before he got to his stool and once on it he slouched back against the wall, struggling for breath from the effort of getting to the bar.
Eighty-eight year old Francis Edward Wright (Few as he was called as a kid) was up for a chat. He was deaf as a post but right on the ball and had a wicked sense of wit. Frank lived next door to the pub, was a 'collector' (you wouldn't fit a matchbox into his drawers), grew fruit trees, had lived in Isisford for 50 years, six kids, 12 year old dog, wife in hospital and had just that day found out Rudd had tipped Gillard out. He had a bit to say about that! We spent quite a while yarning with the old fella. He invited us to drop in to his place anytime we liked for a cuppa and a biscuit (he would love to show us his collections). I reckon he was more entertaining than the V8's would have been. What a character!
Isisford is well geared up for tourists and aside from a couple of good pubs there is virtually free camping at either Oma Waterhole or on the Barcoo for as long as you want, a plentiful supply of good water, dump point, toilets and town showers as well as a lopsided tin shed beside the general store with 3 coin operated washing machines. It also has full Telstra coverage and TV reception. It's little wonder this tiny outback town of 130 people plays host to well over that number of tourists for a large portion of the year.
The weather has been warming as the week has worn on. We went from 8 - 20 degrees on Sunday to around 14 to 29 the past couple of days. It's been lovely. The three of us are really enjoying Isisford, or more to the point, being on the banks of the Barcoo River. We will need to leave tomorrow (Monday) to rendezvous with Em, Shell and Lachy next weekend at Inskip Point, opposite Fraser Island on the East Coast. I'm really looking forward to it but it feels like we are heading into the burbs. It's easy to fall in love with the silence, space and pace of the outback.
Our daily lifestyle here has been extremely laid back. We wake around 6.30, Brian gets up and checks the pots while James and I sit in bed with coffee downloading the previous day's photos and doing the journal. When Brian gets back he showers before making breakfast, which he serves to me in bed. He then does the dishes. By the time I am done playing on the laptop it's usually after 9. Once up I make the bed, sweep the floors and generally get the van tidied. Living in a small space with clutter is a nightmare, so things get put away. James gets a walk, Brian works, we both read and watch the tortoises swimming in the river, then by 11ish we start thinking about what we'll do for the day.
My favorite part of the day is fire-lighting time. The wood around here is dry and gnarled with lots of rooty bits. Not once have I had to use matches as the coals stay glowing under the cover of ash for a good 24 hours. Last night I decided to see if I could get big lumps of wood to fire up without assistance and I almost succeeded - it just needed a little help with a dust pan used as a fan!
My favorite part of the day is fire-lighting time. The wood around here is dry and gnarled with lots of rooty bits. Not once have I had to use matches as the coals stay glowing under the cover of ash for a good 24 hours. Last night I decided to see if I could get big lumps of wood to fire up without assistance and I almost succeeded - it just needed a little help with a dust pan used as a fan!
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