Day 47: From Archer’s Creek to Gilbert River (18/07/12)

As if the previous day had not been enough change, Wednesday brought more change. We drove further south before finally turning definitely west toward Mount Surprise.

Mt Surprise's main street

Mt Surprise station on the Savannalander line

Joke waiting for the train at Mt Surprise

At the same time we were gradually losing altitude and the terrain became slowly more sparse and dry.

Mount Surprise provided us with one surprise: the frog at the Dump Station! I promised to put a picture of him in the blog for Oliver!

A Green Tree Frog nestled in a pole

After Mount Surprise came Georgetown – not quite up to Tasmanian Georgetown standards... We were aiming at Croydon for the day’s rest, but gave up when we got to the Gilbert River, where there was a free camp. We were glad we did, because the concentration of driving on the single-strip tarmac had tired us out.

Different road types on the Gulf Development Road: this is the optimal surface - 2 wide lanes and clear markings, no ruts or potholes.

Then you suddenly get 10 kms or more of single-lane highway: you drive down the middle until you get a car or truck coming the other way

The single lane is sometimes widened at the floodway. We may easily have crossed 500 floodways so far in Queensland.

After flat country, a rest stop in a hilly bit is greatly appreciated. In this case the driver went for a wander while his dear spouse made lunch!

At the Gilbert River there is a long single vehicle bridge and quite a bit of water flowing.

Johanna and the Gilbert River Bridge. Note that the bridge is named after AJ Bond. This naming of bridges is a common practice in Queensland and has caused us much speculation on how the name is chosen. "Yeah, well, let's name it fer Artie Bond, ay? After all he was eaten by a croc when he fell off the bridge, ay?"

These wide sandy riverbeds leave one wondering about the mighty floods which fill these rivers AND the land beyond.

Joke found a fellow-schoolteacher from Sydney and sat down for a chat. You had to keep your feet in, especially in the case of trucks. For road trains you retreated to one of the butresses.

At the camp, a jolly soul called Colin organised a communal campfire at which he then got everybody to make introductions. Much conversation ensued in which tips and reports were exchanged. And if you looked up, there were thousands of stars..

We were beginning to really like this free camping caper. It seemed as if everyone was more willing to talk to one another, rather than set up their television aerials and close their caravan doors. Also, you always had more space. Sadly, you did not always have a hot shower, sometimes not a cold shower either, and occasionally not even a toilet. Gilbert River was one of the last sort. This meant that, among other things, we had to practice the art of what the Dutch call “wildplassen”. Even the women had to do this, under the bridge, on the edges of the crocodile-infested river!

This picture illustrates the above in a sort of neutral way. The preferable connection with the text focuses on "edges of the croc-infested river".

But any time we pass this way again, or you, dear reader, undertake a journey in these parts, the Gilbert River Camp is a must-stop place!

Sunset on the Gilbert River

You just stand and keep taking pictures - every 10 seconds the light has changed.

Mind you, the clouds were being very co-operative, too...

Finally, the sun hits the horizon

And the afterglow seems to brighten up the sky again - a kink in the brain as the camera's light meter clearly shows.

Finally, we say goodbye to the day in delicate oranges and yellows.