Caravanning Camping Touring
Let me share some of our stories with you. I'll try to keep it fun and interesting, with heaps of photos, hints, tips and reviews all relating to life on the road.
They did let us back into The Hill (that’s what us locals call Broken Hill) for my Pfizer jab, and back out again (re previous post). We even braved the supermarket again to pick up a couple of things, and there was hardly a soul in sight; it was the complete opposite from our previous visit.
We did another overnight at our dry creek bed then made our way down to Menindee Lakes. Menindee is 113 kms south-east from The Hill, 55 from our camp, a good day’s drive for us and a destination I had been waiting to get to.
Before leaving home back in May, I told Peter that I’d like to spend a few weeks at Menindee Lakes. I wanted plenty of time to explore all of the lakes in the area. But I was beginning to get a bit worried. Various people we had met had been saying things like, “There’s nothing there.” and “The caravan parks were all closed.” and “We didn’t bother stopping,” etc.
So pleased we didn’t listen.
I guess they were right, there is nothing at Menindee…except this
The caravan parks were closed. Even so, we were able to check out Copi Hollow caravan park from a distance, and it looked like a really nice park, right on the lake’s edge. Then we drove through Menindee Caravan Park until we got ushered out by a disgruntled resident or caretaker, not sure which. This caravan park was like a ghost town. We wouldn’t have stayed there had we been paid to do so. Even though it was in a pretty area it was very spooky, almost post-apocalyptic. All it was missing was a few zombies and we might even have met one of those.
When it’s full, like right now, Lake Pamamaroo covers around 6,700 hectares. And it’s a great spot for travellers. There are no facilities, so you must be self-contained, but there are dozens of well set up camp sites along the eastern side of the lake, some smaller for tents and camper trailers. And many more for the big rigs, and a good number of them have garbage bins, which are regularly emptied. This might seem a strange thing to mention, but when you’re travelling you can accumulate a lot of rubbish and having somewhere to dispose of it is a big thing.
There were about twelve other travellers along the side of the lake, but there was still tons of room, and we found a great spot with nice views to the lake and a short twenty-metre walk to our very own private, sandy, beach. Although there are not as many birds here as I had hoped, there are plenty to keep me shooting.
It didn’t take us long to make this little slice of paradise feel like home. Good job we did, because Covid-19 was going to throw us another curve ball.
See you out there somewhere
On tow and on the go!
There are three caravan parks in Broken Hill.
- Lake View caravan Park – This had terrible reviews. We drove in, drove around and promptly drove back out again. You’d have to be desperate to stay there.
- Broken Hill Tourist Park – This one was right in the middle of town. It had great reviews, though all were about the amenities block. We drove in, had a look around and thought hmm, not bad, but we’ll check out the last one.
- Broken Hill Outback Resort – 16 kms out of town but with great reviews, grassy sites, a wide view, and a pub. We had a winner.
It has to be said that Broken Hill Outback Resort is a bit of a misnomer. They probably should stick to Broken Hill Caravan Park. A Row of Cabins, three rows for caravans, a section for camper trailers, tents, and a pub, doth not a Resort make.
Saying that, it is by far the most pleasant park in Broken Hill and the staff were super friendly.
Another thing we have learned the hard way is that just because a park states that there is Wi-fi, and phone reception, and offers free connection, don’t expect to be able to use it. Not unless you go over to the far end of the park, stand on the top right corner of the dump point, wave you phone in a south-easterly direction while holding your left leg up and out in a northerly direction.
This lack of usable internet at the BHOR was the reason that we eventually moved into town to stay at the tourist park. There we got good internet, TV (I’m ashamed to say it, but I’ve become addicted to Diagnosis Murder) and they had a shiny new amenities block. I can see why it got so many good reviews.
To date, I have tried to avoid any mention of Covid-19. We know it’s there. We know it’s causing untold problems, but we are trying to live life as normal as possible, so for the most part, we simply ignore it. But that all ended here at Broken Hill.
We couldn’t get booked in for our vaccination before we left home, and it was always our plan to do this at Broken Hill, just because it’s the biggest town we expected to pass through after leaving home on May 1st.
So, we arrived at the Tourist Park on a Thursday. Peter went for his Astra Zeneca vaccine on the Friday, all good, but when we got back to the park it was like a scene from a movie. People were literally running around packing up, the park was already half empty and our neighbour, Bill, came over, looking very worried. He quickly brought us up to date.
He leaned in close and said,
“The wife said I had to come and tell you what’s going on. You see, we were talking to the girl in the office here and she said she saw a group of official looking people marking out the footy field this morning. They didn’t look like footballers, so she called her son who’s in the local team. He was having a beer with his mate Tom who works at the local sewerage plant. Apparently, Tom’s boss had called him to say that they had found Covid at the plant.”
Bill paused and took a deep breath, then continued. “Anyway, Tom called his girlfriend, Jenny I think, who works for the Royal Flying Doctors and she said they were marking out the footy field to set up for Covid testing.” Bill paused again and looked conspiratorially over his shoulder. “Jenny called her dad ‘cause he’s a doctor in the hospital here and he said they had a positive test result.” Another look over his shoulder before he said, “They’re going to lock down Broken Hill.”
From the van next door Bill’s wife called out,
“Hurry up Bill, we don’t have time to chatter we have to leave now!”
Bill turned to us decisively and said, “I haven’t got time to chatter, we’re leaving…now!”
And they did. Within minutes they were driving out!
We decided not to rely on Bill’s detailed report, but rather we’d wait for the official story, and then make our decision. I had to be in town on Monday for my Pfizer vaccination but other than that, there was nothing to keep us here.
It was three pm on Saturday when we heard the announcement that there was to be a State-wide lock down beginning at five pm that day. Bugger, Bill was right.
We had no desire to be locked down in a caravan park in Broken Hill and we immediately went into escape mode. First stop supplies. OMG! It was crazy. Every checkout was open, and every checkout had a queue from the checkout to the very back of the store, and this wasn’t a small store. I’m pleased to report that even through this craziness, everyone was in good spirits. There was no shoving and no aggression. In fact, most people seemed to find it amusing.
Anyway, after we got what we needed we joined an epic queue, it was three-forty. Fifteen minutes later, it was clear we were going to be here for a very long time. We decided that I would stay in the queue while Peter went to the caravan park to get us ready to leave.
By the time I got through the checkout, Peter had driven home, packed and prepped the van, hooked up and driven back to Coles. I had only been waiting for him for about three minutes. We threw the groceries into the car, found a servo, fuelled up, and made our way out of Dodge. It was four fifty-two pm. Eight minutes before the lockdown.
So, where are we now? We are about fifty-eight kms south of Broken Hill, just off the side of the road near a dry creek bed. It’s a lovely spot actually. We didn’t want to go too far, as I must go back on Monday for my jab, I’m not sure if they will let us in with the van on tow, but we can’t leave it here, and hopefully, they’ll let us back out again.
Either way, we’ll find out on Monday, and I’ll be sure to let you know.
See you out there somewhere
On tow and on the go!
Before I start this post, I want to thank Rae and Les for their help in identifying some of the birds from my last post, it’s great to have the feedback.
The Darling River Run begins with the Barwon River at Walgett (the Darling starts at Bourke) and goes through to Wentworth. The entire run is about 950 kilometres. It was a last-minute decision to drive the Darling River Run, but we are pleased that we did. We joined the Run about 40 kilometres south of Bourke, where we once again hit dirt road for our trip through Gundabooka (previous post).
We covered about 250kms of corrugated dirt and noisy corrugated gravel road. It’s a bit rough on the old innards and I can see why these are called ‘hunting roads’ – you go from left to right and centre, and often off the road altogether hunting for a smoother section. Anyway, it’s fun, and you do get to see more of the countryside, including fields of tiny wildflowers; ok, maybe they are only weeds; I don’t care, they were pretty. This section took us through Louth and Tilpa, and as per my previous post, don’t expect to get supplies from either of these towns.
By this time, we were pretty desperate for water. We still had a few dry crackers to eat, and some mouldy cheese, but our tanks were dry. I checked good old Wiki Camps and saw one of the three farm stays on route had water. So, Dunlop Station was to be our next stop. Problem solved. I have to learn to read the fine print. 😊
We stopped at Dunlop Station, and what a lovely spot it was, and they said “Sure, we have water. Bore water that is.”
So, here’s the thing. For those of you who have never drank bore water, and it is perfectly safe to drink, you must be aware that it is heavily mineralised. What type of minerals, how dense, and how strong the flavour depends on the area. Let’s just say if I had had any potatoes to boil, I wouldn’t have needed to salt the water.
But as I said, we were desperate and we gratefully half-filled our tanks, settled down on the banks of the river and enjoyed a well-earned, salted coffee. Hey, it’s good enough for caramel. 😊
It was quite tranquil sitting beside the river, with a raging fire to keep us warm, firewood courtesy of the owner, all chopped up and ready to go. To add to the atmosphere, come sundown a small mob (ok a flock) of sheep dropped by for a chat. Not sure why but the didn’t stay for coffee. We were also visited by a stack of goats… alright already – a trip of goats and a couple of rabbits hopped to the river for a drink. What more could we ask for? How about a few birds?
Dunlop was once a major sheep station of a million acres, but now it’s down to a little over two-thousand acres and while we were there they carried just a hundred sheep and several thousand goats. The goats are basically wild but are herded up occasionally and selectively sent off as a valuable by-product.
We only stayed here one night, the following day we stopped at the Tilpa Weir. Yet another great spot for a night or two. As we drove down to the weir we had the option to turn left or right. There were already quite a few travellers to the right, so we went left and found a great spot for the night. I left Peter to start the fire while I went for a walk, with my camera of course, and saw…wait for it. Birds! What a surprise, but the real surprise was this prickly fellow, or lady. He really made my day.
We continued on south-west believing that Wilcannia would be a good town to resupply. We couldn’t have been more wrong, virtually everything was boarded up. We managed to go through town, refuel and leave without seeing a local (just one trucky refuelling), even the servo was unmanned with an auto-pay facility. Although we went through there before the region started reporting Covid-19 cases, given that over ten percent of the town now has Covid-19, it’s probably a good thing that nothing was available to us.
So on we went to Broken Hill in search of food and unsalted coffee.
See you out there somewhere
On tow and on the go!
Ok, I mentioned the birds here at Gundabooka a couple of times, but apart from the Emus, I haven’t shown you any. Well, I spent many, many hours stalking these tiny, little, flighty, annoyingly fast birds who would appear in a flash, only to disappear as soon as I lifted my camera to my eye. But I eventually wore them out (I got lucky more to the point) and I was able to get some decent shots. I also saw a few birds here that I had never seen before so that was a bonus.
I’ve numbered the images 1 – 44 and have ID’d those that I could. There are multiple images of the birds, they’re just so cute I couldn’t pick one of each, and I think I have the correct females after the males. Feel free to correct me if I got any identifications wrong, and to ID the birds I couldn’t.
So, for all of you bird lovers out there, make yourselves a cuppa, sit back and enjoy my slideshow of the Birds of Gundabooka (minus the Emus).
See you out there somewhere
On tow and on the go!
Gundabooka is a remote park south-west of Bourke, the first National Park on ‘The Darling River Run’. Driving on dirt roads is not always smooth but we enjoyed it. We took our time and enjoyed the scenery, avoided wildlife and missed most of the washouts and rough patches of road, but it was impossible to avoid the corrugations.
We drove into the Dry Tank Camp site, which is slap-bang in the middle of the park, not knowing what to expect and hoping for a pleasant overnight spot. We left eight days later and only then because we ran out of supplies. We had planned on topping up supplies from the little towns we passed through, but we couldn’t. The shops were not out of supplies; the towns were out of shops! So, by the time we left we were nearly out of water, almost our of food and reduced to eating gourmet meals such as, tinned chicken soup with pasta spirals, rice with tinned tuna, kidney beans on toast (minus the toast) and powdered milk, you get the picture. But worse than that, we had run out of beer, wine, scotch and…wait for it…chocolate. I know, third world stuff. Still we survived.
The landscape here was dead flat, except for Gundabooka Mountain, which stood out of the landscape like a pimple on a pumpkin. We didn’t realise just how big an area Gundabooka was, nor how flat, until Peter took the drone for a flight.
The camp site itself is a huge area and it’s easy to lose your bearing. We walked into the Mulga scrub, turned around three times and I was lost. Luckily Peter has a much better sense of direction than I do and after a bit of bush bashing, we made it back home to Chunky Bum. After that we made sure we had the two-way radios switched on if either of us went off on our own.
This is a dry place. There are a lot of dead trees, no water to be seen and as the red dust eddies in the wind, it’s hard to believe that anything could survive out here. But the abundant birdlife proves that there’s plenty of food and water, if you’re little enough. And trust me, some of these birds are tiny. My next post will be all about the birds of Gundabooka.
We also took the opportunity to take the scooters out for a run. The ground was a bit rugged in places, and to be honest, I got off and walked in a few areas, but it was fun. We rode along the Little Mountain walking track which would lead us to the Gundabooka Mountain lookout. We had to leave the scooters before the climb up to the lookout, they don’t do stairs, and finished the walk on foot.
A couple of days after that (we had to have a rest) we drove to another walking track; this one was at Mulgowan. From the car park it was an easy walk to an area displaying Aboriginal Rock art. I’m so pleased we went there. The Rock Art was clearly visible all through a series of small “home” caves. The ones on the ceiling were exceptionally well preserved, the others on the walls facing out were still clear to see, but those more exposed to the weather, were understandably faded.
The beginning of the walk was nothing to write home about, but as we went farther in, the scenery changed. From dry outback conditions to more lush green flora. The yellow wattle trees in full bloom adding a burst of vibrant colour and stood out in stark contrast to the reds and ochres of the rock formations which festooned the area. There was water here too, not a lot but enough to support this little oasis in the bush and an abundance of birdlife. The area close to the caves was a picturesque gorge. It had an almost fairy tale feel to it, and we both found it enchanting. I didn’t see the Seven Dwarves, but I’m pretty sure I found Sleeping Beauty.
The only other trips we took after that were for wood gathering. Even though there was an abundance of dead wood lying around in the National Park, we were not allowed to use it. So, we made a couple of three-hour round trips out of the National Park to collect our firewood, and of course to do a bit more exploring.
See you out there somewhere
On tow and on the go!
Peter has had a bit of a craving for scones for a while now, so I thought, why not try them in the camp oven. Never done it before, but we’ll give it a go. If they work out, all well and good, if they don’t…well, we could both do with losing a bit of weight. So, this was a win-win situation.
First came the prep work, as I’ve mentioned before, the more prep you do the easier it is to cook in the camp oven.
I fancied a cheese scone, and Peter a plain, but that would be far too many scones for two little fat people. So, I’d only bake half of each dough batch and the rest would go in the fridge for another day, and do you know what? It worked a treat. In fact, they were by far the best scones I have ever made, and Peter says they’re the best he’s ever tasted. Mind you, he is biased.
Each time we use the camp oven we learn something. This time it was that it’s sometimes better not to place the oven in your actual fire pit. If you preheat the camp oven on the fire, then shovel a small (and I do mean small) layer of coals on the ground a bit away from the fire you can avoid the sporadic heat fluctuations of the fire pit and get better control over temperature.
Place the camp oven on the layer of coals and feel free to ‘load the lid’ with all the coals you can fit on (scones like a lot of heat).
Oh, by the way, the batches that were in the fridge were just as good two days later, except I forgot to put some coals on the ground, and they took a lot longer to cook, even with replacing the hot coals on top three times. Rookie mistake, won’t do it again.
I want to make these a couple more times, and when I get the recipe right (I fudged it this time so need to repeat it and take note of what I did) then I’ll post it in full.
See you out there somewhere
On tow and on the go!
