This is the road to Hell…s gate

The packing up is getting easier each time. Sure it still takes a few hours and can get quite sweaty, but compared to the start of this trip it is a breeze. So it was let we left Boodjamulla with tears in our eyes, but hope for what we are yet to see. It is less than 200km to Hells gate roadhouse, but a big chunk of our route was on minor unsealed roads. These are essentially dirt roads that can go from smooth 90km tracks, to rocky, creek crossings without warning. The good news is that our brakes work just fine, IN YOUR FACE, KMART AUTOMOTIVE CAIRNS.

The journey was bumpy and dusty, and despite a detour due to a poorly signed road closure, we arrived at Hells gate early afternoon. The only thing good about Hells gate was having burger and chips and watching the cattle muster pilots land in their little helicopters.

Quality grub...

I want one

We set of early that next day (before 8am… BOOM), with over 300km of dusty, bumpy roads. This time it was a major unsealed road, which means there are signposts before the creek crossings.

Passing slower vehicles can be quite hazardous on these roads, as the dust cloud means you can see fuck all on the approach. Some grey nomads are nice enough to pull over and slow down, some are pricks and don’t give an inch. We’d just passed a dickhead before the NT border, so we jumped out quickly to get a photo to keep ahead of the fucktard.

Obligatory border pic 1

Obligatory border pic 2

We reached Borroloola just after noon, and decided to stay in a cabin for the night, as my back was sore and I needed a break from the tent. We opted for the “luxury” cabin, but that is a rather liberal use of the word. It was good enough and we set about cleaning up our dusty gear, sorting stuff to give away, shopping in the “town” and fuelling up. The petrol station had a baby saltwater crocodile, good old NT.

NT shopping

These towns also give some indication of the problems facing indigenous Australians. When I bought my XXXX Golds, I not only had to show my license, but have a breath test to show I hadn’t already been drinking that day. Most of the Aboriginals in this area weren't particularly friendly, and who can blame them. I’d not want to converse with Whitey if he’d fucked me over to the point I felt like a stranger in my own country and now paraded past in $100,000 caravans. Jeez, I’m slightly pissed with Germany, because one German bloke parked near me in a national park.

We did our bit to build bridges by giving Becky’s recliner chair to the arts centre, so the old ladies could use it while painting and I gave a beach football to a small kid. But I don’t like to talk about all the work we do for charity.

After some tasty microwaved noodles for dinner, a change from the pot noodles we had for lunch, we went to bed in our luxury cabin. Tomorrow we head for Limmen national park.

Hard day at the office!

Boodjamulla NP is a popular place, and it doesn’t take long to see why. It is spectacularly beautiful, with a large creek running through a gorge and abundant wildlife. We spent the first afternoon strolling around the dusty campsite and highlighting the walks we’d do tomorrow.

Quality set up

Just before dark a colony of little red flying foxes filled the sky on their nightly foraging trip. These bats can form colonies of up to 1 million individuals (according to Wikipedia) and we could quite believe it. It was a wonderful end to the day. Although it was slightly tarnished by our neighbours, a middle-aged Austrian couple, conversing long after dark with some hippy German backpackers they’d befriended. I’m not going to say anything more about this; I don’t want it to become a Fawlty Towers sketch. 

After another chilly night, we awoke with the promise of a fun filled day. It was cold, 13 degrees, and this meant dressing up warm for breakfast.

The cold morning look

After breakfast we geared up for the western track loop, a 7km walk that takes in several lookouts along the gorge.

Looking good, and the view ain't bad either

I wouldn’t really class us as hiking people, and 7km is about our limit unless there is something super special to see. Therefore our walking gear is more just some old clothes and trainers.

Becky mentioned that maybe we should invest in some proper walking shoes, I said my trainers, that I’d worn to boxing 3 times a week for the past 2.5 years, were fine and had plenty of tread left… I’ve become my father!

Watch out for Freshies

It was a great walk, and the lookouts were spectacular. We spotted a few people canoeing down the gorge and decided that tomorrow we would do the same thing. The walk back from the last lookout was a bit long, and now that I think about it, 7km is a little over our limit, and the dust, fuck me, the dust. 

A few bar dips, as the guns have been feeling neglected.

We got back to the camp for lunch and we were both pretty beat. We decided that we would take it a little easy in the afternoon, and just do a short walk to a swimming hole. The pamphlet described it as an oasis perfect for swimming. Seeing as we had seen several great swimming spots on the hike, we assumed this must be the jewel in the crown. Yet again the fucking pamphlet lied! It was a load of shit and there was no obvious swimming spot. I covered this in a previous post; I don’t understand why they have to over exaggerate the crap walks. The morning walk was amazing, and this paled in comparison.  A better description would have been “A bit shit and definitely the worst of the lot, but if you’ve got nothing better to do, might as well”.

Why did I bother putting my trunks for this shit.

We decided to do one last walk, to look at some aboriginal art. It was here we struck gold! At the end of this walk we found the little red flying fox colony and there were fucking thousands of them. This was a pretty special thing and Becky was over the moon, individually photographing every single bat. I’m going to do a separate post on this, as we also have some videos of the colony resting and flying out. I’ll have to post it when we next have wifi, perhaps Katherine.

Judging by the ball to dick ratio, this must be an elderly bat

That night we again enjoyed the skies filling with hundreds of thousands of bats and after it went dark the sky filled with millions of stars.

At night the bogs glowed even brighter

Becky also found out why shutting the toilet seat is so important in the outback.

Please don't poo on me

The next morning we decided to hire some canoes, so quickly ate breakfast, had our morning bowel movements, and did the now compulsory 20-minute nasal cavity excavation (it’s so dusty and dry here that every morning you have to pull out several house bricks before you can start breathing through your nose again). We paddled up the gorge in the direction we walked the day before, and the scenery was fantastic. I say we paddled, but I did the majority of the work.

You just sit there, I got this.

They said it would take around an hour to get to the middle gorge, but I did it in 20 minutes, including 5 minutes watching a freshwater crocodile on the side bank… STICK THAT UP YOUR DOJO!

I see you

We (I) paddled as far as the upper gorge, and the whole thing was fantastic. We even saw a baby Freshy.

Peek-a-boo

As we paddled, we’d pass other people and exchange pleasantries like “hard life for some” and “hard day at the office” and “isn’t it great that we the few get to benefit from the crimes of our ancestors and the continued suffering of the many”. It was a great morning and we even started contemplating getting an inflatable canoe.

Easy way to spend a morning

After all that exercise (I’ve done nothing for almost a month, so I’m counting it) I was utterly beat. Becky insisted we visit the bat colony one more time, and I duly obliged. I’m such a great husband sometimes. It was just as special as the first day. Sadly, we have to leave this place sooner than we'd have liked. We tried to extend our stay, but the sites were all booked up. It is such a wonderful place, although the air is fucking dry and dusty. Apart from the solid bogies and dust covering everything, my hands and feet are starting to resemble that of a dead man. It is strange to think that less than a month ago, as the rain seeped through the tent, I thought I would never be dry again. Sometimes you have to be careful what you wish for.

Tomorrow we have a brief stopover at Hells Gate roadhouse and perhaps our last night in QLD for the rest of the year. After that, next stop Northern Territory!