Rolling into Tambo I wonder if the residents have ever referred to themselves as Tamboners, I hoped they had a sense of humour. A tiny town in Central West Queensland I never known what to expect.
Surrounded by green fields there had certainly been some rain here and all I could see was an outcrop of small tin sheds and fibro houses. The inside on the other hand was another story. Beautifully groomed lawns and bottle trees fill the Main Street. All the buildings seem to have their own sense of character and I enter the library/information to get my bearings.
Im greeted by Bruce, a quirky looking man with thick glasses, he gladly gives me the run down on Tambo. Ill be staying here an extra day to rest so a place to pitch my tent is of most concern. Bruce is very diplomatic in pointing out where to stay, in the end I simply shop my way up the street seeking out the cheapest place. The two pubs are a bit out of my league at $50 a night, and not to judge a book my its cover I check the Tambo Mill Motel.
A very relaxed gentleman sits behind the desk. I ask how much in the usual way, all I need is some shade and a shower. His name is Gary and he owns the place with his partner Corina. Gary has no idea what to charge and leaves it up to me. Also wanting to be fair I have no idea what to suggest. My first thought is $0 and Gary says $1000. I don't want to buy the place and eventually we agree on $10. With a pool and some free washing powder I couldn't have got a better deal.
Floods and drought have both plagued Tambo at times (I know, what a bugger). Not long ago the town was in dire financial times and were in desperate need of a solution. The locals pulled together and began sewing up teddy bears, and thus the Tambo Teddy was born. There is certainly a feeling of community spirit here that i haven't quite got from anywhere else. For the first time I'm in a place where I feel like I could stay.
Like anywhere there are pros and cons, and in Tambo its the insects. Mosquitos and flying ants swarm the town. No light is safe of a night time and the public phone is a mission to use after dark, although I'm sure this is a delight to the frogs which inhabit it.
After an overcast day off and a bit of rain i feel ready to head north into the desert channel. The sun is back out with the ominous headwind. I have a chat with the last few Tamboners as I try to leave making my final departure much later that I had anticipated.
Not even 5km out of town and to my left 20-30 horses spread out across a field. At first I thought it was cattle as this many horses in one place is an unusual sight. I ride past yelling out to them to get their attention. Unbelievably they all begin to come down closer to the road along side where i am riding, following me up the road. I accelerate as best I can and the horses follow suit. I cant believe it, are they trying to race me? I try to take a photo as I ride but a BMX is no match for a horse and they all take off past me and disappear out of sight.
The road opens up and sweeps around the hills and 360 degree views are taken in with awe. Even after a rest the strong wind is wearing me down early and after 30km I need to rest and have lunch. Fortunately for me I find a rest stop complete with running water where I can drink till my hearts content and cool off.
Across the highway I get to watch some real country action as stockmen on horseback muster cattle. A life in the sun out here must surely be rough and it puts my own attempts to travel the outback into perspective.
Back into the wind though and I quickly remember how tough this can be, especially for a city bloke like me.
The dreaded endless straights return. Long dips with almost no end in sight. When a horizon is finally met its more often than not joined to another stretch much the same. The only way to move forward is to walk into the wind and persist in the heat. The roadside is bare and dry with only a few trees here and there. Im still amazed and the bottle tree which are common in this part of Australia and easily spotted in the dry landscape.
Kilometre after kilometre finally pass and some life returns with bushland back on the horizon. I'm nearly half way to Blackall at the 50km mark. I cross a cattle grid with a bit of a difference. This particular grid on the road is there for wild dogs. Its part of a wild dog fence 6500km long. Crossing it makes me wonder which side of the fence the dogs are supposed to be on.
A young bloke I was chatting with in Tambo pulls up and offers me a lift. "You still out here" he says sounding surprised. He tells me of a good camping spot on the Barcoo River only 10km away and I find a last bit of energy to power on.
I arrive with an hour of light left and there is another vehicle setting up camp. I introduce myself to Anthony and Darella from Cairns. A young couple travelling their way down into New South Wales for Christmas. I set my tent up before asking if they would like to join me for dinner, a passive way of inviting myself into there camp for some company. They are only too inviting and we share a meal next to the dry Barcoo River while the sun goes down and a few rain drops fall. Lightening on the horizons brings us no storm this evening, just a light show as night falls.
Im presented with breakfast in the morning of bacon and eggs. Eggs are a food which provides untold energy and are consumed at every opportunity. With only 45km to Blackall this could be the makings of a short day. I wish Andrew and Darella all the best and try to get a good start.
After a small climb out from the river the road swings around to the west and the wind dies down allowing me to pedal hard. Its hot early today and as soon as I see a sight boasting a mineral spa and pool in Blackall only 30km away, the decision is made to get there as soon as possible and relax the afternoon away.
Even with a headwind its not long before I'm there and its not even midday. Time for recovery mode, finding a place to camp where I can leave my bike and have a look around.
In the 1800's Australia literally rode on the sheeps back. 100 million head of sheep were shorn by 60,000 shearers providing Australia with two thirds its export earnings. Blackall legend Jackie Howe was the best of the best. On the 10th October 1892 Jackie Howe blade shore 321 sheep under 8 hours. It was a time where men were men and had moustaches, and weren't afraid to hug a sheep or two. And the sheep liked it.
Blackall is also home to the back stump. A famous stump used in early mapping of this region. Used as a place to stand equipment when taking measurements. Unfortunately the stump had since been burned out and replaced with a piece of petrified wood. It was a completely underwhelming sight, Never the less I had now travelled beyond the black stump.
I couldn't wait to leave Blackall in the morning. Its Tambo's bigger cousin and unfortunately didn't have the same community feel. While I packed my things in the morning I get talking to a fellow camper Gary, actually the only other camper where I was staying. "No wind for you today" he exclaims. I look up at the trees waving in the wind and wonder if Gary may be either deaf or blind? I speak a little louder and step to the left, watching his eyes follow me with a bemused look on his face, "Maybe" I reply and waste no time packing up before the burning sun comes into play.
An early start givers me confidence in reaching Barcaldine, a 110km day is more than possible with the right start. First backtracking half a kilometre to pump up my tyres at the petrol station. Not 100m from the petrol station and I can hear a noise over my headphones. I pull out an earpiece to the sound of my front tyre deflating. From deep within my lungs exits the loudest of all profanities, enough to echo down the deserted sunday morning Blackall Main Street. Not a great start to the day and I was minus half a kilometre.
I make the decision to take the extra time to patch this one while I'm somewhere with a decent pump. As soon as the glue is touch dry its back in and take two on the day begins.
Immediately out of town the road is filled with cattle. Drovers are passing by. They seem in no hurry to get their cattle off the road and the little morning traffic is forced to wait. My bike makes light work of negotiating the hazard and I slowly ride through the heard stopping to have a chat with one of the drovers on his dirt bike out in the middle of the road. Totally relaxed and in no way bothered by their cows blocking the traffic. Cows are one of my favourite animals and this close encounter starts to make my day a little better.
Through the heard and into the wind, trying to keep my cool and concentrate on the task at hand.
10km ahead and I can feel there is something wrong. My front tyre begins to feel soft and its only getting softer. Shit! I stop under a tree and sit there for a moment considering whether or not I should just turn back to Blackall and sit the day out in the local pool. Instead I decide to continue and begin to change another tube. The patch had held, but a rock had imbedded itself in the hot soft tyre making its way through to the tube. Its hard work trying use my little hand pump and I can feel the temperature is in the 40's already. I am fortunate this dry landscape is thick with trees providing ample shade without fuss.
Take three and I felt my temper rising for the second time. Two flat tyres joined with a strong headwind was again testing me mentally. I choose a bit of techno music in an effort to return my mind to better times. The loud banging music has the desired effect and I come to terms with not making Barcaldine today.
I walk up some of the long slow inclines on the highway doing my best to make any ground. Sitting on my bike half way up a hill completely exposed to the burning sun and microwave style wind I stop for a breather. There is a large amount of cattle around and off to my left a truck and caravan. I squint into the distance and see an arm waving out of the caravan, at least I think it is. I sit there for a moment watching this arm wave me in before finally trekking off across the dirt to investigate.
I get close to the caravan and there is a young girl on a dirt bike, and the waving arm from the caravan hands me a cold soft drink, complete with ice. The day begins to turn around at a rapid rate. "Hows it going?" I say to dirt bike girl "Better than you" is the response, and a usual one at that. I am meeting my first family droving their cattle on the Queensland stock route.
Mary, Sarah, Dave, Tyson, the Brooks are out here in an attempt to save their cattle and livelihood. From Amarock near Longreach their property was ridden with drought. They had no choice but to hit the stock route.
The Queensland stock route is crown land, about a mile wide it was the route used to move stock up and down the land before the advent of modern highways and trucking took over. It is available to those who need it and requires a permit usually allowing them to move 10km per day or sometimes only 5km under special circumstances such as the cattle calving.
I sat in the shade of the Brooks caravan and chatted with Dave and Mary feeling completely saved with nothing more than a cold drink and a little company. They looked at me as if I was doing it tough and I reminded them I chose to be out here for no other reason than a personal journey. The Brooks had pulled together when times were tough, a quality difficult not to admire. On the road since May, they had travelled down to Charleville and were now returning home, 10km a day, and praying for rain.
After an hour or so I knew I had to continue. The highway and the midday sun was calling my name. Their cattle weren't as afraid of my bike as others had been and again I negotiated through the stock and made my way across the dirt and back to the road.
Tyson rode over on the quad and met me on the highway. He had left his job in Townsville to help out his family during the most trying of times. A top bloke, he wished me all the best as I rode off into the distance. I would be keeping in touch with the promise of sharing a coldie one day in the future.
I continued to make headway towards Barcaldine, or Barci as it would now be known, waving goodbye to Dave who had found a tree to sit under to watch his 1100 head of cattle wander about and feed.
The wind softened slightly. Unfortunately the same couldn't be said about the heat. I was forever getting used to 40 degree temperatures, although at times it still forces me to catch some shade.
Up the highway waving to the few cars which passed, it wasn't long before one turned back and stopped to see if I was ok. I had given no signal for this as all the cars get a thumbs up, even when the flies are out in force.
Lizzy is travelling back from working for a family near Longreach. She's a Sydney girl returning home from a stint in the bush. She kindly gives me some cold water and we have a conversation before continuing as shes on a tight schedule to make Mitchell a further four hours away.
This interaction is enough to get me moving again. The more distance covered today is less I have to do tomorrow. Barci is only 110km from Blackall and if I can make it over half way ill be more than happy. Dave and Tyson had told me of some good places to camp with a bore trough about 50km from Barci and this was now my goal.
Afternoon cloud drops the temperature significantly and allows me to get some real pedalling done, now energised from the simple kindness of strangers. The road is giving me much joy, a fairly quiet stretch running through the grassy scrub of Central West Queensland.
I pass the 50km mark when two utes pass me, thumbs up out the window. I approach as I watch them get out, something inside hopes this ends well. I get along side and slow down to engage when an arm reaches out to me holding a cold beer as if i was running in the city to surf. Although in that case the beer would be replaced with water. Bloody Legends.
Tom, Patrick and Keiran were three mates returning to Darwin from other parts of Australia where they had been working. They tell me "We wouldn't have stopped if you were on a normal bike", and rightly so.
Little did these larakins know but I wasn't much of a beer drinker. Something that had plagued my manhood as an Australian throughout my adult life. I was not adverse to drinking alcohol, I'd just never found a taste for beer. Today was the day that would all change. And out here on the highway in the middle of nowhere, it was an offer which would be rude to refuse.
We talked and laughed as I drank my first real beer, and I enjoyed every second of it. Maybe it was the beer talking but I told them they would be the first ones I called once I reach Darwin, even before my mum or girlfriend.
They let me finish before heading off. Now completely relaxed in the afternoon shade, the wind all but gone, I sing my way up the road. A day which began horribly couldn't be ending any better. A final 10km before I spot a stock route sign and I can see a water tank from the road Tyson had told me about. I could easily keep going but with only 50km to Barci and bath in a bore trough within sight, it would be silly to carry on.
A short dirt road about 300 meters takes me off the highway and around some tall reeds to my final camp for the day. There it is, beautiful cool water, out of sight of the road. I feel like a new person as I bath in the cool artesian water, quickly getting into my birthday suit to feel is therapeutic effects.
I set up a little away from the trough to allow the local wildlife to enjoy. A family of bright green parrots fly down from the trees to drink. Ive never seen parrots like this in the wild and I try to get closer to snap a photo. Smart birds, they have a parrot brother keeping watch to signal for danger from a nearby tree and they are gone before I can get close. Kangaroos slowly make their way in while I cook dinner and watch the sun go down from the shade of my camp. I spot what seems to be a baby emu but as I move to get a better look its gone and out of sight.
Mentally broken from the get go today before, without a doubt, becoming the most satisfying day so far. Im totally at peace and felling completely blessed with the people I have met. and the journey of the day. If only I had turned back this morning, perish the thought.
Writing my journal the light is all but gone and I reach for my torch. My eyes are drawn to a glow from the east. Is there a city over there? I wonder, or maybe a truck with its lights on has stopped on the road. I continue to watch and I realise its the moon. I put down my journal and stand back to a most incredible sight. A large bright full moon shows itself and continues to rise right before my very eyes, making its way into the night sky. I turn around to see my shadow once again on the ground behind me and for the first time I wished there was someone here to share this with. I could sit and watch the sky all night, eventually though I must sleep.
In the quest to get to Barci before lunch I rise early. Something is different this morning, the wind had gone. I had to take the opportunity to make some ground before the inevitable were to happen. Head down and on a mission the first 30km takes nothing more than a couple of hours.
A rumbling stomach halts any progress and sustenance is in order. I don't want to stop for too long in fear of the wind returning its evil self. Its too late. As quick as the landscape can change so can the weather and once again the wind whistles from the north. It gives a feeling that something else is wrong, perhaps with my bike. The added resistance fells like that of a flat tyre or worn bearings. Purely psychosomatic, the wind continuing to play havoc with my mind. It makes me look down at my bike while I ride looking for a breakage somewhere. Nothing.
There is plenty of time to check out the eucalyptus scrub while I walk up a few large hills. Progress is becoming increasingly slow for the last 10km. So close I don't see the point in stopping and its my last ounces of energy carry me into to Barci.
1km from town I stop at the first tourist park I see, not expecting to camp here its more just to check what I could be in for in Barci.
Its a great looking place with lush green lawns and palm trees shading the grounds. An oasis in the outback. A bloke named Darren runs this place and when I ask the price he looks over my shoulder at my bike, "I cant charge you for that" he says. I feel as if I have to pay something so I make him take my $10. Darren even offers me his car to run into town but I'm more than happy to have a walk. In the end I settle on joining him for a beer in the evening and we are both satisfied.
I am the only one camped here and have free reign of the large covered camp kitchen. A storm in the afternoon loomed and I havent even set up my tent yet, instead Darrren suggests I just sleep on the kitchen floor.
I take a walk into town to have a look around. There is a monument called the wishing tree right in the centre of town. Its an old Ghost Gum, giving significance to a time when workers in the region were struggling for rights and this is where meetings were held. I also find out that Barci lays claim to the first free flowing artesian bore in Queensland, just the same as Cunnamulla. A most interesting revalation in the tourist world of Western Queensland I wonder how many know of this discrepency.
The remainder of the afternoon is spent in the palm tree shade of the caravan park patching and repatching my remaining tubes waiting for the afternoon storm.
Darren and I have an ale and watch the rain fall. He has only been running the park since April and it suits him well. I'm told of all the times he has gone out of his way to help people and he never wants anything in return. Darren asks me to promise him two things, that I don't stay in Longreach (apparently they arn't as friendly there), and if I see a half dead animal on the side of the road that I euthanise it. I can easily pass through Longreach, that I can promise, but im really not sure if I could kill something. I promise anyway and the more I think about it the more possible it could be. I am after all surprised by capabilities every day.
When its time to go Darren comes to see me off giving me some tyre repair patches he had found. He has also organised for his brother to pick me up in Winton 280km away for some free accommodation. Fantastic as I planned to have a day off there.
Darren warned me about the roadkill on the next about 110km leg to Longreach with only one town 80km from Barci called Illfracombe. That was my target.
The road heads west towards Longereach and North West Queensland was in sight.
An early get away dodges the wind and the open straight road takes me away from Barci. It was noticeably dry as soon as I left with very little vegetation around and already the stench of roadkill filled the air. Quite often the dead kangaroos which peppered the road could be smelt before they are seen. This keeps me moving as much as possible.
I reach a rest stop 30km out of town and am forced to rest in the shade while I can. The wind picks up from the west while I sit there, an occurrence I had began to get used to in my daily life, and waiting for it to die down is never an option.
Swarms of Kite Hawks and Wedge Tailed Eagles patrol every section of this highway buffet. With plenty to go around they will never be going hungry, I was most definitely in Death Valley.
More and more road trains used this stretch of highway as it also links up to Townsville and the east coast of Queensland. The 50 metre long monsters of the road move like giant steel snakes as they negotiate an obstacle course of dead kangaroos. I do my best to give them as much room as possible and hug the edge of the road, also negotiating my own dead roo obstacle course. The smell is extremely confronting as is the sight. Some carcasses are fresh from the previous evening and current morning, others have been pulverised into the road, baking in the sun and constantly driven over, its hard to tell where the road stops and the leathery carcass begin. Scattered bones left from the scavengers spread out over the entire length of the dry brown soil roadside as far as the eye can see. I cant wait to get out of here.
The wind has rarely been on my side and today was no different, and storms now loomed in the distance. Its always difficult to perceive which direction they are headed or how far they are exactly away. It makes no difference in the end, I'm still just out here on the road as exposed as ever and will have to deal with the weather as it comes.
Another rest stop only 5km ahead and another chance to sit and make a decision on the remainder of the day. A lift is offered by a passing motorist headed my way. I am in no way about to accept especially with a break within sight. On foot as the wind continues and only several hundred metres from shelter, a storm which I had been watching for the past hour had beared down fast and I could smell the imminent rain. I watch the thick rain sweep across the road, giving me only just enough time to pull the rain cover over my back pack but not enough to grab a raincoat. Im instantly soaked to the bone and the rain is so strong there is no hope of looking up to press on to shelter. I just stand there on the side of the road and endure its fury. Even the little traffic pulls over, at first I think its to offer me shelter before realising they cant see either. I attempt to reach safety of the rest stop and keep my head down following the white line on the edge of the road as my only guide as to which direction I was travelling.
Just as quick as the rain had come, it left into the distance behind me. I was particularly happy about surviving my first real Queensland storm. A relatively quick experience that had cooled me down temporarily. Occurring within 200 metres of shelter its hard not to think that if I hadn't been offered a lift only moments ago I would have surely made safety.
Only 15km to Illrfacombe I stop for lunch and to empty the water out of my boots and dry my clothes. This takes very little time in the hot windy afternoon and any storms which had passed only bring minor relief. I was keen to exit Death Valley at the earliest conveniance so camping here was an impossibility.
Extremely humid it is now sweat which drenches my clothes and I press on into the tiny town of Illfracombe.
A sign for the Wellshot Hotel stating 'modern refrigeration' gives me an impression of the primitive pub I was about to reach. My first sight is a caravan park and thoughts of a cold shower before looking further up the road to see another sign boasting 'very cold beer', the shower would have to wait.
The Wellshot Hotel was much less primitive than I had expected and as promised the beer was very cold. It instantly cooled me down and knowing I wouldn't have to travel any further today brings a smile to my face. My adventure was quickly becoming the worlds longest pub crawl.
Ross and Jacky, recent owners of the Wellshot, are extremely welcoming and along with a beer I'm presented with an ice cold mango at the bar. While we get to know each other their immediate hospitality justifies a real bed for the evening in a cool room, something I haven't experienced for a couple of weeks. The Wellshot Hotel has a vast history in these parts, moved several time over the past one hundred years as the pastoral land expanded. It seems that pubs were always the first building to be erected during a new settlement, the best way to keep shearers and stockmen happy in the outback. The wa/lls were lined with hats from locals and travellers alike, from famous musicians to former governors, my helmet would be left here to be immortalised for years to come. I felt honoured.
It wasn't easy to leave the comfort of an air conditioned room in the morning. Its only 30km to Longreach and the Tropic of Capricorn which I had been looking forward to reaching for sometime. Storms once again loomed in the distance. As I moved ever forward lightning emerged from the black clouds. I couldn't tell whether they was coming from this side of Longreach or not so I rode as fast as I could in an effort not to get caught. Beginning to tire I kept an eye out for places to get shelter if I had to turn back. There were a few culverts in the road and the rail line running parallel with the highway. These would be my only hope in the event of a lightning storm.
Longreach soon came into sight and the storms had remained on the horizon. It was still quite early and I planned to stay for an extended lunch and stock up before the next leg to Winton, 180km away in the desert channel, with no towns and little chance of getting water. Longreach was the home of the Qantas museum and the Stockmans Hall of Fame. Id promised Darren from Barci I wouldn't stay here and I needed to make headway soon to begin the trek to Winton.
I found a park with a free BBQ and sorted out my things for the next few days. Its here I made friends with some local kids on school holidays. All of them on their bicycles they didn't believe me that I had ridden all this way. Each one in turn had a try of my bike, and each one in turn wobbled up the footpath before falling off. I couldnt help but laugh and the kids joined in.
Just before I left I pumped up my tyres at the petrol station and the comedy of errors began. While inflating the front my bike fell over. With the air nozzle still attached the valve stem was ripped from the tube destroying a perfectly good tube. Lucky for me the petrol station was also the local bicycle shop and I purchased a new tube. Getting better at replacing these, the new tube is changed in a new record time, sweating profusely my impatience gets the better of me and while inflating the replacement id gone too far and "BANG!" the tube explodes in the tyre. Feeling quite embarrassed when the staff inside rush outside to inspect what dickhead had made such a loud noise. The second replacement is a success and I leave as quickly as I can with my tail between my legs.
I finally find the Tropic of Capricorn sign on the exit of town. Getting this far was always going to be a milestone and I was left bitterly disappointed by the small hidden sign announcing the change in climate zones.
The wind howled in my face as I left Longreach and I slowly passed over the Thompson River. There were places to camp here and I wondered if this was far enough out of town to appease Darren and my promise not to stay in Longreach.
I was energised from lunch and the day was still young. I try to do the calculations in my head and if I can travel another 30km it can set up for a possible two day trip to Winton. Reaching Mt Isa for Christmas was a priority and there is still 650km to travel in only 14 days. I would be cutting it fine and had to get a move on.
Trees and scrub returned to the land on this side of Longreach and the road slowly climbed. The landscape had changed yet again to a band of red sand and rocky soil. Unfenced roadsides gives me plenty of camping opportunities behind the trees but I push on as far as I can into the afternoon.
I almost camp at the next rest stop 20km from Longreach but I remember Darren telling me about the Darr river. I cant seem to remember exactly how far it is and when I check the map I feel like I might have passed it already and not noticed. I bargain with myself and agree on another 10km, if there is no river its there I stop. A slight break in the wind and I'm off.
The new landscape of sandy earth keeps my mind occupied and the afternoon brings a cool breeze. I finally reach the 30km mark and it just so happens to be on the beautiful Darr River. An easy decision to camp here and join the kangaroos and birds for a dip in the river. The river has subsided slightly leaving an extremely muddy bank. It makes it difficult to get close to the water as I sink deep into the mud. Once I'm up to my knees its enough to bath myself and take some photos. There is always a nervous feeling being in an unfamiliar river by myself. Im sure there is nothing that can eat me in here, but there are always stories floating around of saltwater crocs making their way up into fresh water rivers in the most unusual places.
Such a peaceful way to watch the sun set.
Its still 150km to Winton and the distances between civilisations are only going to increase all the way to Darwin. As I had known from the start this is where it was about to get serious. Ive pushed six days in a row on the bike today and my body is beginning to shows signs of needing a rest. Perhaps I should have stopped for an afternoon in Longreach, there was no turning back.
