Mud and Sinus Infections

Mud and sinus infections! 2 of the banes of my existence have been my companions over the last 2 weeks.

I took that right turn at Townsville – which was actually sticking to the freeway instead of taking the exit to Townsville – it certainly changed over the last 40 years as the last time I travelled this the Princess Highway went through the town – it is a ridgy didge city now. To be honest it was an utter relief to get off the highway as it snakes along constantly twisting and turning and towing a van, I am acutely conscious of the cars all lined up behind me impatiently waiting for an overtaking lane – I have no sense of psychopathy when in this situation – I find the empathy I feel for the impatient drivers induces an intolerable anxiety!

Leaving the far north coast was a beautiful drive, despite the anxiety. There was a mist hanging over the low-lying hills that hug the coast which gave it an ethereal quality and the sense it was bidding me a fond farewell – or perhaps it was whispering an admonishment telling me I was an idiot leaving all of this to make my way to the cold south!

Turning inland takes you into Outback Queensland – which is a much more refined outback due to the tropical conditions than those in other parts of our wide brown land. The land opens into the large cattle stations of legend. It is sadly denuded of trees but verdant with all f the rain. The spinifex feed glowed gold in the sun and almost sparkled as it wafted in the gentle breeze, the sky opened out above it a deep blue with fluffy cumulous clouds casting shadows randomly across the shining tableau. There are tiny little towns dotted along the route with beautiful names such as Silkwood, Deeral and Belleden Kerr that provided the opportunity to top up the tank and have a coffee. After Deeral there was some weed probably along the side of the road shining a bright green and side by side with the golden grasses it provided me with a divine patriotic drive surrounded by the green and gold.

We made our way along this beautiful drive with the kilometres melting away until we came to the first town of any size as I needed to get some more groceries. We came across Blackall which makes the claim to the be oldest town in outback Queensland, being settled in 1863. They had a lovely spot to camp down by the river. It was a lovely little town and Mr Bingley and had a wander around in the late afternoon. The next morning, I woke up to what sounded like a gentle rain and my only thought was ‘bugger I hate packing up when it is wet!’ I sipped on my shoes and stepped out into ankle deep mud, black, sticky mud. I couldn’t believe it the land I was camped on seemed to have dissolved with what the locals told me was very little rain (about 5ml). Grimly I packed up after digging out the gumboots that I had just thrown in the back of the car as an after thought when I was packing way back in December last year and hid my shoes. Everything was hastily thrown into the car, or the caravan and we were ready to set off. I turned on the car, engaged 4-wheel drive and gave thanks for the new tyres that I got in Cairns and made my way up to the street. Only I couldn’t get there! The mud was so thick and viscous that it jammed up the tyres and I was slipping and sliding and could not navigate the slightest of rises up to the roadway.

What was a girl to do?? I immediately thought of the RACV but being so remote some good vibe made me think of ringing the tourist info centre. I rightly thought I can’t possibly be the first person this has happened to. They gave me a number of a local that could help me. I got onto the phone to a lovely women – an elderly lady who runs the phones and I suppose the books for her husband and son and their business. She was so sweet and told me that she would get onto her husband straight away. Within a few minutes a bloke turned up – I got out of the car and said to him you have to be the son!! He was and told me that he regularly has to come down here for the hapless like myself. He told me if I waited a couple of hours the mud would dry, and I would be able to drive out! I didn’t quite believe him, but thought I had to trust him so I said to him through narrowed eyes ‘I’ll go and have a coffee, but if I have to call you again you will have to pull me out for nothing!’ He laughed and said, ‘trust me and I don’t charge anyway!’. Down the street Mr Bingley and I trekked again. I called out at the door of the coffee shop that I was just too filthy to come in, but could I have a coffee. I was surrounded by such wonderful generous and helpful people I felt so humbled and know we have lost something living in our cities. The beautiful lady bought me out a coffee and I sat outside and read a book and sipped. Then it started to rain again. I had left my phone in the car in my confusion, but the wonderful fellow that does the towing came down the street to find me and said ‘doesn’t look like it is going to stop raining, let’s get it out now’. So, we hoped in his ute and down to the river we went. He had a go at driving it out before he was going to get the tractor. Thankfully he could get it out to my great embarrassment. Thank you, hardly seemed the appropriate word for my gratitude – it did not feel adequate to the depth of the gratitude I had for their kindness, but that was all that was available to me.

I scraped the sticky mud off the accelerator, the brake and the clutch pads got in the car and told Siri to take me to Quilpie. Poor old Siri is limited in her knowledge and simply looks for the fastest route without warning you of what is ahead. As I turned out it wanted to take me the route of Windorah, Eromanga etc. It was a sealed road but after about 5 kms it turned into a dirt road, I slowed right down, thankfully, because about a kilometre into this I did a very elegant 180 degree turn, both car and caravan. I had thought travelling along the mud would fall from the vehicle, but it was so sticky it didn’t and the tread on the tyres were filled to the brim with mud and I could not get a grip. So, I continued the turn and headed back to Blackall and booked into the caravan park there telling the lovely woman running the place that I was sick to death of mud.

We settled in and the next day I attacked the car with a Gernie water pressure machine, that I had also thrown in the car thinking I was mad, but you never know if you will need it and washed everything coated with the mud and then the next day I came down with a monumental sinus infection and took to my bed for the net 3 days! May be the gods were smiling with the slippery road for I was grateful I was not camped on the side of the road somewhere with a sinus infection.

All better and raring to go we headed off – the long way on the sealed road to dear old Quilpie and channel country. There is water everywhere as they have had plenty of rain too and where I will catch up with people I met when I was cooking in Eromanga!