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.