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Undara National Park: Kalkani crater:   Notice the marks in the Queensland bottle tree used by aborigines to aid climbing:  Lava tubes:         Georgetown:    A billiard ball sized rock greeted us:  |
Undara Lava Tubes, then
Mount Surprise to Normanton
We woke early, eager to be ready for the Lava Tube tour. About a dozen of
us older tourists were driven the 40 kms to Kalkani, an extinct ‘shield’
volcano. On the way we were informed of the way the local area, Mount
Surprise, got its name. Apparently the 10 year old son of the first owners
of the land was out walking on his own and was surprised by meeting
Aborigines. For their part, they were surprised to meet him! Our guide,
Jenny Wright, gave much detail about the huge cattle properties in the area.
We could see many healthy specimens as we zoomed along the road. She
explained the problems the area graziers and others have with ‘grader’
grass, an imported variety of golden grass which bends over giving the land
a graded appearance. We had already noticed it on our approach to ‘Bedrock’
camp as it covered hills and open spaces everywhere but had not realised
what a ecological challenge it has become.
The guide parked the bus at the foot of a steep hill and we trooped over to
the start of our slow-paced climb up 800 metres to the top of extinct
Kalkani volcano. Its vast crater is now covered with growth, but still
discernible. As we gazed to the east, we could see we were in a direct
straight line with Cardwell on the coast. When we turned westward, we could
see lines of trees of a different, paler green snaking their way through the
otherwise eucalyptus green forest. Jenny explained these thus:
Lava, millennia ago, as it poured down the sides of the many volcanoes of
the area, made straight for already existing creek beds. There, the molten
liquid quickly cooled and hardened on its outside but the lava ‘inside’ kept
streaming away. When the flow stopped, the hardened lava had become
hollowed out, hence became ‘tubes’, like tunnels. The lines of pale green
foliage that we could see were Queensland bottle trees, brachychitons, not
baobabs. They grow only where lava tubes have collapsed, providing the
nutrients the trees need. So from our high vantage point, we were able to
see from these tree lines exactly where the lava tubes were.
The group took the walk back to the bottom of the volcano more easily.
Members chatted to one another and were all pleased to stop for tea and
biscuits before boarding the bus to see the Undara Lava Tubes close up for
ourselves. Jenny pointed to old lava rocks as we approached the first tube.
These rocks consist of basalt which, over time with the effects of water,
become very porous like honey comb [vesicular] before breaking down
altogether. The basalt holds water and provides the nutrients for bottle
trees, but because the surrounding soil is otherwise sand, there are few
other trees growing so vigorously in the area.
Once in the tubes, and there were three we could enter – very carefully, as
we had to lower ourselves down over broken rocks which were not entirely
stable – we were astonished at their cavernous size. The ceilings and walls
are covered in splendid natural colours and patterns from the seepage of wet
soil into the porous lava. These patterns are quite breathtaking. We had to
use torches in the final tube as it was otherwise pitch black, and noted
tiny bats hanging upside down in crevices above our heads. We had noticed
animal bones at the entrance to the tubes and were told they would come in
for the shady relief from heat. Some died there. Aborigines also used the
caves for various cultural [not sacred] practices and we had to be careful
not to walk on protected areas.
Old lava is continuously falling inside the tubes and eventually all will
collapse. Outside the tubes, there is evidence of tube walls which have
already caved in and have broken down slowly into small basalt rocks,
gradually being covered by grass and trees.
The morning had been very full and most enthralling, but Bruce and I had
much more ahead of us this day. We were glad to be back at the caravan park
where Bruce bought a souvenir shirt and we both had a quick lunch, eager to
be on our way for the 395 km drive ahead of us to get to Normanton.
Bruce drove to our first pit-stop, Georgetown. It was extremely hot by now
and we were glad to have an ice-cream to cool down. Bruce wished to look at
a map of the area in the Information Centre as his great grandfather and family had lived here in the 1890s. I made the most of the clean, cool facilities before
taking the wheel for the next leg of our journey.
We were now on the single-lane highway, the Savannah Way which goes from
Cairns to Broome. When other vehicles approached, both we and they had to
slow down and shift to the gravel roadsides in order to pass each other. I
was getting the hang of this manoevre quite well when a huge truck hurtled
past on the other side of the road. It was on the gravel, but because it
had not slowed down, a slew of pebbles shot out from its tyres. One, about
the size of a billiard ball, streaked towards our windscreen, smashing
noisily into it on Bruce’s passenger side. There was a loud cracking and a
shower of glass crumbs rained over the dashboard and over Bruce. I slowed
to a stop immediately, shocked. We sat for a moment, relieved to see the
windscreen, though severely damaged with a small circle of crushed glass
remaining intact in the centre of the cracks radiating from it, was still
holding together. Gingerly, Bruce moved to get the dust pan and brush from
the ‘kitchen’ and carefully swept the dashboard, seat and floor clean of all
visible glass crumbs, then resumed his seat and we set off again. Glass
crumbs would continue to be discovered for several more days.
I continued driving. Normally after so much time already at the wheel, I
would have been tiring by now, but my adrenalin levels were now so high that
even the baking sun beaming straight at us as we headed west could not
distract me from my task of getting the vehicle safely to our next pit-stop,
Croydon. There, we pulled in to a service station to refuel. Bruce called
the campervan office in Sydney as it was not yet 5.00 p.m. but got little
assistance. We could only trust to luck and keep going.
Bruce took the wheel for the last leg of the day’s journey into Normanton.
The sun seemed to take forever to set and the glare into the cabin was very
hard to deal with. When it did finally disappear and as there were no street
lights [!] it was suddenly pitch dark. We had only the painted line in the
middle of the road plus reflector studs at its edges to keep us on track.
With huge relief, we arrived in Normanton. Both of us were now very tired
and stressed and to make matters worse, at least briefly, the GPS
instructions on which Bruce relied to find our exact destination, seemed to
be making us drive all around the backstreets of this little outback town.
Bruce was becoming more and more stressed, longing to be rested and settled.
Finally, he stopped and called the caravan park. We were virtually around
the corner from it! Once inside its perimeter, Bruce checked in and went off
with the assistant. Seeing them disappear on the small camp vehicle, I
tried to drive behind them, but soon lost them in the unlit blackness of the
park. I noticed other campers looking at me strangely as I drove past and
wondered vaguely if I were driving the wrong way down a one-way lane.
Finally, giving up, I went back to the office and waited for Bruce to turn
and guide me. I was not in a good mood . . .
Finally, plugged in to the electricity and having decided not to bother with
eating, we prepared for bed. I took a shower in the amenities block and
felt a little better, even if my feet were quite dusty again by the time I
reached the van. Bruce meanwhile, had called his family contact in
Normanton, Nola Gallagher, and asked where we might find a new windscreen.
She sympathised with us and said it happens every week to locals and to try
a certain service station next day. With that, we retired, too knocked out
to even talk to each other.