Day 54: We ease into the Isa (25/07/12)

There was no need for an early start today, as we only had 60 kms to go into Mount Isa, where we were booked into the Sunset Caravan Park. We had selected that one carefully, avoiding the one which had been given a thumbs down by travellers we had met on the road. It would not do to arrive before kick-out time (10 a.m.) so we dawdled over breakfast, taking in the wonderful ambiance of this little slice of paradise.

Our breakfast spot looked every bit as good as it did last night!

Different light, different colours.

Some of the mountains around our little spot.

Mount Isa on the whole gets a bad write-up – and there is a bit of truth in the negative reports. It is a mining town which does not “do” nice very well. It is rough and ready and is dominated by the Mount Isa Mine which occupies at least half the town area. On the other hand, on this trip we have often met travellers whose capacity to enjoy what they see around them in nature or the works of man is severely limited. Mount Isa takes a bit of work, but the reward is a deeply interesting town which has enough in it to keep you going for a few days. We had booked for 3 nights as we had decided to take the X-Trail to a mechanic regarding the rumble under the bonnet at low revs. Another reason for staying put was that Mount Isa had been chosen to host the 55th birthday of my dear wife. Accordingly they had put flags and bunting up and down the main street and were ready to celebrate the day with a spontaneous rodeo and Miss Cowboy competition, the latter of which they had asked her to judge......

We spent the rest of the day preparing for this event by washing the caravan from top to bottom. Somehow it had become covered with red dust, and we were determined to bring it back to its original spotless condition. Spotlessness, of course, brings its own problems, one of which was that it highlighted the fact that our little caravan had suffered from what the Dutch call “stoneslag” where dents are caused by stones thrown up by passing vehicles. Presumably the Dutch think that those vehicles spit the stones at your vehicle, hence the name......

Exhausted, we sank into our camp chairs, reached weakly for a refreshing drink, dabbled crackers into dips with ineffectual, leaden arms, and contemplated our old age (whether arrived or impending shortly).