 Dawn and breakfast at Lake Maraboon:    Approaching Carnarvon Gorge:  Around the caravan park:       |
Lake Maraboon to Carnarvon Gorge
Rising early on another lovely day, we opened the rear doors of the van to
breakfast inside it and have the lovely view as well. Our morning routine
was now well-practised. We had become quite skilful at setting up, eating
and packing away in a minimum of time.
As the temperature had dropped a little, I pressured Bruce into taking a
walk down to the lake and through the bushland. Reluctantly, he joined me.
It was fresh and lovely beside the lake and I could have made quite a long
walk, but Bruce was unimpressed and keen to get on with the day’s drive. He
was bothered about the van’s water hose fitting which seemed to be missing
and wanted to get another one.
We checked out of the park and I drove the straight smooth-surfaced road to
Springsure. I found it very challenging to stay at 100 kph on such an easy
drive. The speedo kept creeping up, despite a strong breeze blowing, making
it essential to work at keeping the van going straight ahead and not to go
too fast. Large bundles of golden grass seed were blowing across the road
like tumble weeds. Around us, blue hazed ranges with strange knobbed tops
were beginning to be evident, reminding us of our destination, Carnarvon
Gorge.
Our brief stop in Springsure, a quiet farming town, saw us browsing in the
local hardware shop as Bruce bought another hose fitting before buying ice
blocks and doing a spot of window shopping. Bruce had soon discovered he
had not bought the correct hose fitting and was put out of sorts by that.
It was time to keep going.
I continued driving til we reached Rolleston and then turned on to the Carnarvon Highway.
Golden wattle was much in evidence, making the bucolic scene even more
attractive. Bruce took the wheel, ready for the rougher drive ahead into the
Gorge over 44 kms of gravel road so rugged that the van bouncing over the
gravel made my teeth chatter. The van rattled and vibrated so furiously
that I half expected we were leaving a trail of van parts on the road behind
us. The sign at the gate of the National Park said, ‘Enter at your own risk.
Rough Road.’ Hanging on grimly to the vibrating steering wheel, Bruce said
drily, ‘Yeah. We know . . .’
The scenery was now changing again. Tall trees, small palms, a creek and a
sign warning of slow wallabies prepared us for entry to ‘Takarakka’ Caravan
Park which was in a small open valley at the bottom of the steep, winding
and very rough road down which we had jerkily descended. We drove around the
winding, dusty campsite road til we found our spot, settled in and had a
quick lunch. Bruce was disappointed there was to be no guided tour the next
day, our only full day in the park, but I was sure we’d find enough to
satisfy us.
We were both tired after lunch, but knowing I would not enjoy sitting
around, I left Bruce to read while I explored the camp site environment.
Carnarvon Creek flowed quietly just behind our camping spot. I stood still,
watching a pretty little waterbird, its grey, sleek body with long black
beak and slender yellow legs moving elegantly and slowly as it stealthily
sought its prey. I moved on further and came upon tame wallabies nibbling
on wide lawns to the side of the camp road, untroubled by my presence,
though regarding me curiously before resuming their feasting. Several had
joeys hanging carelessly from their mothers’ pouches. Palm trees and
macrozamias grew everywhere and in the creek, though we were not fortunate
enough to see them, platypus lived.
Returning to the van, I found Bruce refreshed though troubled with a little
reflux, now keen to take the short, steep climb to a nearby lookout for
photographs. Though tired myself now, I decided not to argue and after
making a pot of tea, clambered up the hill behind him in the late afternoon
sun. Bruce’s mood improved as he found some good subjects for his camera.
For some time he clicked away at the lovely palm-filled river gully below us
before we returned to the van.
Other campers in an A-frame caravan had parked beside us by this time. We
had noticed these before and were curious about how they folded up and down
as they are flat-topped trailers when being towed. Impulsively, I greeted
them, saying how ingenious their caravan style was and asking how it worked.
The couple were very welcoming. The man explained the hydraulic system that
allowed the flat top to pop up, first one side then the other neatly
clicking in to the first. Clearly they were enthusiastic and experienced
campers, graziers from not far away, and owned other camping vehicles as
well. The husband was eager to show us inside his van, pointing out proudly
all the modifications he had made himself. We noticed with some envy that
their bed remained made up all the time!
Little light remained. I didn’t want to eat again so I left Bruce to make a
scrap tea and hurried to the amenities block across a dusty paddock to clean
up and find my way back in totally unlit surroundings. I thought unhappily
about the prospect of a long walk in the gorge the next day as the really
basic camping life in the gorge was challenging my city softness severely.
But I said nothing and returned to the van, not getting very lost in the
process.
That evening, there was to be an outdoor slide show on the myriad
fascinating aspects of the ancient gorge. We had to take our own chairs and
as the temperature was now descending rapidly, decided to put our warm
jackets on. A large crowd of campers was already gathered and the speaker,
a young very knowledgeable female park ranger, led us through the gorge via
an hour of images of its every aspect – geological beginnings, multiple
walks, flora, fauna, dangers to be wary of and advice in case of accident.
By now Bruce and I were chilled to the bone. I crossed my arms, slipping my
hands into my coat sleeves, and jiggled around in my chair, determined to
keep my blood flowing. I noticed with wry humour, several men leaving and
scurrying to the nearby men’s ‘loo. I just hoped I could last out til the
end of the show myself! But we need not have worried. The show concluded and
both of us, detouring to the ‘loo on the way, hurried back to the welcome
warmth of the van and bed.