Another fine morning – brisk but not chilly. We had our
breakfast and our showers. The caravan was still hitched, so the preparation
for departure was minimal. (We still manage to be one of the last to leave,
most days!!!) The road trains were going at it again, so when we left we took a
breath, held it, closed our eyes and plunged into the traffic stream and hoped
for the best.
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| Driver looking a bit worried, methinks.... |
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| Ahhhh! I understand! |
Well the best came along, because we have not yet been overtaken
by a road train – much worse than being passed by one on a single lane stretch.
We drove the 180-odd kms into Cloncurry where we a) parked outside the police
station, b) had lunch in the park next door, c) walked around the one-block CBD
like tourists, d) did the grocery shopping (with list), e) tanked petrol and
then wandered off in the direction of Mount Isa.
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| Cloncurry street |
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| The Post Office Pub in Cloncurry |
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| The Central Hotel in Cloncurry. These two pubs were the centre of town... |
The idea was to go to a free
camp about halfway between Cloncurry and Mt Isa which had a tick against it in
the Camps 6 book.
The drive to Mt Isa was through the length of a mountain
range. It had beautiful red rocks of a very rugged appearance and the drive was
really very pleasant. Before we got to our intended stop, Joke pointed out an
alternative free camp at a dam. This led to a difference of opinion between
navigator and driver. 5 kilometres later we arrived at our intended stop to
find it was packed out with caravans and the ubiquitous backpacker “bongo vans”
(Bought cheap under the Sydney Harbour Bridge, driven to death around Australia
by Germans, Swedes, French, Finns, pick a nationality, given a quick cannabis
detail and then sold at a modest profit under the Sydney Harbour Bridge to the
next lot of foreign backpackers – here endeth my interjectory rant)
We drove in one end and out the other, did a u-turn and
high-tailed it back to the dam site, navigator graciously not saying “I told
you so!”. We had to go in through a gate and along a kilometre of dirt road
before we got to the “Clem Watson Park and Corella Dam” camp. What an
absolutely great place! The 30 or so vans already present were spread out over
an enormous area alongside the lake. I was enchanted, navigator graciously not
saying “I told you so!”.
We found a spot which suited us and sat back to
survey the lovely scene as the afternoon sun lost its bite and evening began to
appear.
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| Our spot at the Corella Dam |
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| Our view at the Corella Dam |
Then we went for a walk along the shore of the lake (built for the Mary
Kathleen uranium mine operation back in the 1950’s. The setting sun made the
hills opposite burst into beautiful colour and I drank it in, navigator
graciously not saying “I told you so!”.
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| The dam itself in the late afternoon |
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| While we chatted with other campers, the sun was gradually withdrawing from the land |
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| Until only the cloudlets reflected its rays |
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| Finally, we only had the Southern Cross and its thousands of companions to give us light |
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