Mataranka - Daly Waters - Cape Crawford - King Ash Bay
Northern Territory 

It was late morning Sunday by the time I had spoken to iinet to sort out accessing my emails from Brian's Ipad, caught up on Nomads Notes, created a blog in Word, copied the blog and photos to an SD card, opened the files on Brian's laptop and pasted them into our online blog. Then I had to tidy the post up a bit before publication. It was a good 5 hour exercise, but at least we worked out how to do everything we needed to with my malfunctioning laptop, convoluted as it may have been. In the afternoon I backed up all the important stuff to a spare hard drive....just in case! I suspect my laptop will suffer a slow and agonizing (for me) death.

After all that hard work we thought a dip in the hot springs would be the go, so we headed the 10 minute drive to Bitter Springs, just north of Mataranka. The thermal pool there is quite a lot bigger than at Mataranka. It snakes its way through the forest, at points quite narrow. There are wide bands of thick floating algae clinging to the banks which you wouldn't want to swim through. That part is a bit yucky, but it's the same 34 degree crystal clear water only a less commercialized attraction than the better known Mataranka Springs. I swam the full length downstream, ducking under big Orb spiders whose webs spanned the channel connecting the thick foliage along the sides. Brian timed my swim at 8 minutes.

On the way back through Mataranka we stopped off at the gallery. There was some really nice aboriginal art - well worth a look. While there we bought presents for both our older daughters whose birthdays were coming up later in June, then Brian decided we should have a famous "Mataranka Pie" for lunch, but the lady in the service station that sells them said they ran out of pastry the day before - bugger!

As the day wore on, caravans filed into the park at an unbelievable rate.  The Great Grey Nomad Northerly Migration was clearly ramping up with the onset of winter. We were highly unimpressed when an elderly couple decided they needed to locate their van right on top of ours when there was heaps of space in our 'dog-zone' camping area. Why do people do that? The rest of our day was filled with fishing (not a touch), a swim in the Mataranka Spring and a lovely evening listening to a muso who was playing in the beer garden of the Homestead.

We left Mataranka Monday morning on our three-day day trek to King Ash Bay, arriving at Daly Waters around midday, 169 km south on the Stuart Highway. Daly Waters is a tiny town whose claim to fame is its iconic pub, built in 1930. I had heard it was worth a visit. Check-in was at the pub, of which the caravan park is part. Boy...were they organized to make the most of the passing nomad trade! We parked out front of the pub, went in and were given the warmest, country-style greeting you can imagine, paid for a site , were encouraged to book in for Barra and Beef dinner (which we did for 7pm), drove through the gate beside the pub and were ushered to our site by an old bloke called Mike. Mike was very specific about how and where were parked. He then gave us a full run-down on what happens at Daly Waters including do’s and don’ts, what and who we should visit, then did a big sell on the nightly entertainment which commenced with Happy Hour and the first artist on stage at 4.30. Wow - we were a bit blown away!

 

By the time we had our van in place there was a line of cars and vans out on the road waiting to go through the procedure we just had, and by 4 pm every possible space in the park was filled. Mike was absolutely run off his feet. It was clear why he directed the parking with such care - we were packed in like sardines. No-one unhitched. Clearly it is an overnight-only stop and you do get to know the neighbours very quickly. They were ALL grey nomads.

Once set up James got walked, then we took the bikes off the van and rode out to the old historic airfield, the Stuart Tree and the cattle yards. Across the road from the pub was a small gallery shed with an artist who we could watch painting a landscape, a museum under a house, a ‘jewelry’ shack that sold home-made bits and pieces and a couple of fuel bowsers. The pub itself was amazing....so full of character, both inside and out. Every inch of space inside was covered by something; hundreds of bras and undies adorned the bar and rafters, money and business cards from all over the world were stuck to walls, caps, shirts, artifacts  photos and anything else you can think of was on display. Out back was a large, rustic eating area and a stage in an old shed.

 

At 4.30 the music started so we headed over for $3 pots and wine. The country music played by the guy who ran the museum was fantastic. He was on for 90 minutes and was followed by a rock and roll singer who did Elvis and Buddy Holly stuff for another 90 minutes. The last session was pretty nostalgic and included a slide show to accompany a part comedy, part narration and part music of the John Williams ilk. At 7pm on the dot we were called up to the BBQ area and given our Barra and Beef, then piled our plates from the salad bar. The steak was perfectly cooked to order and was the tastiest and most tender I reckon I have ever had. The large Barra fillet was outstanding. Wow! At 9pm on the dot it finished and we wandered back to our van absolutely blown away by a fantastic and completely unexpected experience.

The exodus from Daly Waters Pub commenced around 6am next morning. We left at 8.30 heading east toward the Gulf of Carpentaria. We were surprised to find the Carpentaria Highway was a single lane road, straight and flat for the most part. It was sealed and had gravel edges to move on to when passing another vehicle, not that we came across many. It was quite different to the Stuart Highway the day before where we had passed close to 30 caravans in the space of 15 minutes. For the 3 plus hours it took us to cover the 270 km to Cape Crawford we only saw a handful of other vehicles. What we did see heaps of were Wedge-tailed Eagles. They were all along the highway feeding on road-kill.

 

Heartbreak Hotel, another icon which I wanted to see, sits at the intersection of the Carpentaria and Tablelands Highways and is pretty much all there is to Cape Crawford. While we could have continued 150km on to King Ash Bay that day, the caravan park at the back of the pub was quite nice and we did want to have enough time to visit the Aboriginal Community of Borroloola and Caranbirini Conservation Reserve on the way through to KAB anyway. There was no phone coverage at Heartbreak Hotel, which was a bit of a problem for Brian as he was in the middle of an aircraft deal. The staff at the pub suggested we climb a rocky outcrop across the highway as sometimes you can pick up a signal from a diamond mine 40 km up the road. By standing on the highest rock on top of the hill Brian was able to do what was required, while James and I enjoyed the walk and the view.

 

Late in the day we had a beer with a sparky who was working at the pub. He had a house at King Ash Bay and was able to fill us in on some local knowledge about the place, where to fish, what was being caught and with what bait etc. He also gave us a bit of an insight into the road conditions on the unsealed Savannah Way, along which we would like to travel when we leave KAB. We both find it fascinating talking to the locals while on the road. They certainly are a wealth of knowledge.

 Wednesday we departed about 8.15 and headed northeast to King Ash Bay via Borroloola, a trip of 130 km. We stopped at Caranbirini along the way and did the 2km walk around and through a cluster of sandstone spires similar, so I was told, to the nearby and much larger "Lost City" that can only be accessed by helicopter. It was spectacular!

 The spires are the remnants of an ancient seabed that through millions of years of exposure to the elements has been eroded into a series of tall, layered rock monoliths. Some are up to 25 meters high, most with a conical appearance although there are various shapes and sizes. Some have eroded at the base and seem to be precariously balanced. There are narrow caverns between adjoining structures and shady glades surrounded by walls of rock through which the walking trail meanders. The colours of the rock vary from almost black to rich red and some glowed bright orange in the morning sun. It truly was a magical place and a feast for the senses, and my camera.

Not much further along the road was Borroloola which, to be honest, doesn't have much going for it. It's certainly not the sort of place I would like to stop over. Apparently it can be a bit rough and lawless which would explain why most of the buildings, including the pub and the caravan park, are surrounded by cyclone fencing. It was interesting to pass through and we did need to refuel, but we didn't really explore the town or hang around any longer than necessary.

King Ash Bay campground, which is at the end of 21km of dirt road northeast of Borroloola, is on land leased by the King Ash Bay Fishing Club. It is open to the public offering a choice of powered sites or riverside bush camping, which is what we opted for. It's pretty well set up with all amenities, albeit quite basic, a great general store, fuel and licensed club overlooking the river. It is a huge area covering several hundred hectares on the McArthur River about 25km from the Gulf of Carpentaria. It is renowned for its fishing. We drove around and chose a spot overlooking a broad stretch of the beautiful McArthur on a high riverbank, which was good because we had a space of our own, a great view and were out of reach of the many huge crocs that inhabit the river. We rode our bikes back to the registration area and paid our $83 to stay for a week.

 

Later in the day Brian unloaded the boat and got it ready to go on the river while I went collecting firewood. That night we had our first campfire since Devil's Marbles in March. Just after dusk, while there was still some light in the western sky, a plume of black began erupting from the trees on the opposite side of the river. The plume grew and grew in intensity then began streaming north and south for as far as the eye could see. Bats - tens of thousands of them hit the skies. It was like a volcano spewing black ash. It was an amazing sight.

Our first dawn broke at King Ash Bay casting pink and blue reflections over the mirror-calm river. Every now and then a fish would jump, creating a big swirl. The tide was low exposing mangrove mud flats on the far bank and a huge croc was resting by the edge of the water. He was a whoppa. As the morning wore on the tide started coming in and the wind came up, totally changing the appearance of the river.

 

We rode the bikes up to the general store a kilometer or so away to buy bread and bait, and an hour before the midday high tide we launched the tinnie. Several people had told us the river could be a bit treacherous with shallow parts, sandy and rocky outcrops just under the surface as well as unmarked snags. Even though it was fairly windy and choppy we figured it would be safer to explore in deeper water. We had bought a river chart at the store but for the life of us couldn't even orientate it to where we were. So much for our combined navigational training as commercial pilots! Brian later pulled up a WAC (aviation) chart on the GPS App. on his Ipad and eventually worked it out.

 A couple of hours on the water for the first day was enough. The fishing was terrible, the wind was increasing in strength, the river got so choppy there were white-caps and we were flying blind in terms of local knowledge. The tinnie handled the conditions beautifully, but James wouldn't have coped with the motion of the bow bouncing or the loud banging as it hit the bottom of each wave. We were glad we had left him behind in the van.

 In the afternoon we rode the bikes to the bar/clubhouse which has a big antenna so a full Telstra signal is available. That was excellent. Brian worked and I used his Ipad to pick up emails. For dinner we rode back for "pie night" and had $12 pie, chips, peas and gravy. Afterwards we sat out on the riverbank stargazing. With the moon almost non-existent the sky was absolutely a mass of brilliant lights.

Friday started out as another mild morning without a breath of wind to ripple the water. We planned to head downstream after breakfast but by 8am the wind had started to gust up, intensifying by the hour. We decided against putting the tinnie in which ended up being a good idea as I was struck by a burst of domesticity that lasted all day; washing, scrubbing the bathroom (which gets filthy with all the red dust) and re-arranging cupboards. It was amazing that after living in the van since renting the house out in early February, I still had not sorted some of the stuff out that had been thrown in randomly the day we left Seaford. The whole process of putting my new house in order was quite cathartic. I had a lovely day - 30 degrees, beautiful views and an energized Noellie!

Brian read ALL day! Actually that's not quite correct - he did some phone/computer work down at the clubhouse, made breaky and lunch, started the generator so a few battery-powered items could be charged and put up a clothes line for me. Oh, and he had a snooze.

 James and I did a couple of fairly long walks and got talking with one of the semi-permanent fishing club members on the bush track through the back way to the store. With James running free and clearly thoroughly enjoying himself, the subject of dogs and how much they love the free-roam environment came up. "Keep a close eye on him" said the lady, "there are heaps of dingoes out here. They appear from nowhere and can grab a small dog before you know it". James went straight on the lead. Bugger!

Yesterday were on the water before 9am armed with a bit more knowledge about the river system. It was low tide so while we had to motor carefully to avoid the sand bars and rocks, at least some of them were visible. Brian had managed to get his fish finder working as well, which meant we knew what the depth of water was as we traveled along. It was a calmer day than our first on the river, so James was given an invite, which he accepted. It works like this; "James, do you want to go in the boat or stay here and be a good boy?" (exactly those words). James then either gets on the bed or rushes to the door. He does actually make a decision.

 King Ash Bay is not far from the coast and aside from the McArthur River, the Carrington Channel along with multiple large creeks make up the network of waterways that head out into the Gulf of Carpentaria. We spent close to 5 hours exploring downstream and became much more confident about how to navigate it safely. The fishing, sadly, was pathetic. We tried a dozen or so places with lures, squid, river prawns and pilchards. All we got were two bites. James didn't particularly enjoy himself either. It was probably too long in the boat for him, it was hot in the sun, and we were anchoring rather than tying up. He hates the noise of the anchor chain dragging over the bow. I very much doubt he will accept the next invite to go in the boat.

 In the afternoon we took a drive along the river to where the track ends at Batten Point, just 7km downstream. It was also a wood collecting exercise. That didn't work cos there was no wood to collect so we ended up heading back toward Borroloola to find some and it was a pretty miserly collection at that. But it was enough to have a lovely fire at the end of the day.  

AND....this morning Brian caught his first Barra keeper – a 64cm beauty. Fresh Barramundi fillets for dinner tonight....yum!