3rd December 2016

Holy shit balls!  Surrounded by 3 separate thunderstorms last night with lightning flashing and thunder rolling over our heads, (sort of sounds like a Live song) the small fry and I had to retreat to the cab of the truck for another round of aggressive Scattegories as the storms moved over us – at one stage lifting the legs of the awning off the ground threatening to take us and our ruby thongs to Kansas.  Enter that Gangajang song again.  Certainly deterred the family who had booked to stay in the un-powered area with us – they came in during the worst of it – and promptly left – leaving us to snooze blissfully under the doona (it was actually cold) then wake up to no one.  Heaven.

Feeling as if my arse was expanding at a rapid rate even the Kardashians would envy given it had sat in the car for extended periods of time, I motivated myself to walk the 1.2 kilometres around the lake.  Strutting my stuff in my pluggers (no active wear here ladies) I power marched until a heron decided I was far too close to its nest for comfort and began the ritual of swooping me.  Armed with my trusty Tupperware water bottle and XXXX Gold Straw hat – I defended myself with gusto and a few well known expletives before the pink cover of bougainvillea saved me (and the sign explaining there was a dead dude buried in the man made lake).

Coffee, eggs and a cold shower (well I had the cold tap on but there was no cold about it) we headed off to make history and become famous by finding a fossil in the fossicking area about 12 kilometres out of town.  Easy Peasy – we had been to the famous Kronosaurus Korner the day before (not to be missed BTW – no geography lesson I ever had taught me the area we were in had been inundated on five occasions by the ocean creating an inland sea) to see the incredible display of marine fossils and the world’s best preserved marine dinosaur.  Ten minutes later, belted by the sun from above and reflected off the white sandstone below, Miss 12 gave up and retreated to the cab with the Husband who had opted for the Kindle.  Miss 10 and I laboured on and were rewarded – well we like to think so – probably nothing but hey, we stuck it out people and God damn we have fossils!!!!

On to my mate at the servo.  Whilst the Husband fought with the Diesel pump, Miss 10 and I went in to order real coffees and find her and the Husband some sunnies (Husband has lost his – I actually think he tossed them and feigned ignorance so he could get some cool new wraparounds).  On ordering my coffees and having a yarn with the lass behind the counter, out of the blew I am told that indeed I smell nice.  “Should have smelled me two hours ago!”  hahahahaha – we are now firm friends and she is off to Google how to buy Samsara on line.

What struck me today driving from Richmond to the Isa (I am now a real Aussie according to the sign as you come in to town) is how much the landscape changes.  I imagined – well fucking nothing really – but the terrain changes all the time.  Spinifex fields, then fields with a particular tree, moves to nothing at all, then more trees and red termite mounds then the Selwyn Ranges change everything again.  This country is ever changing and rich in contrast, topography and flora – it truly is incredible.

So on to a wee stop 60 kilometres out of Cloncurry.  I’ve been driving for two hours and getting a bit snoozy yet needing to pee like a woman who has had two children really needs to pee.  Randomly I inform the Husband I am stopping in five kilometres at the next rest stop which is complete with drop toilets (no shit – the toilets along the Flinders Highway are cleaner than in that park all my friends will know what I am talking about!) and shaded picnic tables.  After donating to the compost, I retreat to the shaded area only to notice a Radio Port Douglas sticker on one of the poles – we are being stalked!!!!  Truly, no word of a lie, 1200 kilometres from home at a random pee stop, we find something from home.  The world is smaller than you think.

The small fry are doing exceptionally well – helping with every aspect of camp and Miss 10 managed a snooze in the car – we were advised of said snooze by the snoring emanating from the rear of the cab and the stifled giggles of Miss 12 who was in a world of mannequin pain as her arm was being cuddled firmly in place.

At least they still like each other – and enjoy playing on dirt mounds!

Our camp was originally Corella Dam, but courtesy of the fabulousness of Uranium mining, you can’t swim in it and in fact, the town that was built there – Mary Kathleen – is now deserted and all buildings have been removed – coincidence?  I think not.  So onward to the Isa (I am so Aussie now) and a treat for the kids at a campground with a pool.  We have the whole unpowered area to ourselves and Bob and Hazel were awesome company whilst cooking dins in the camp kitchen.

But before we settled in the Husband had to buy the next four days wine supply and was met with “Nice place – no frills at all (dripping with sarcasm)” when he responded to the bottle shop attendants inquiry as to where he was from.  OK, this is now three occasions – it’s cheaper to live in Port Douglas than Melbourne or Sydney if, like us, you live a 10 minute walk from the beach!  I just put it down to the fact I am so incredibly good looking that people think we are posh.  I think this tree looks rather posh.