Linda looking for some of the teeming birdlife at Kinchega
Our campsite at Muno, with storm-clouds fast approaching
We left the Saturday before Christmas in our Series 3 Land Rover 109 station wagon. With the rear seats removed, it provided ample packing space for camping gear, a few jerry-cans of water and one of petrol, as well as the obligatory tools, spares and extra oil. Day one was relaxed, heading away from Canberra and the highways, and we travelled via places like Binalong (the Land Rover's previous home), West Wyalong and Lake Cargelligo to Willandra, an old sheep station (now National Park) at the edge of the outback proper. This was the car's first long trip in our hands, and I was a bit nervous, but it performed flawlessly. The trip was far more comfortable (and faster) than our old diesel had been, thanks to a 3.3l Holden motor and 5-speed Nissan gearbox, plus seats from an Opel Commodore that made us oblivious to the lack of suspension.
We slung a mosquito net under a tree in the deserted Willandra campsite, and went to look for a ranger to give some money to. Not only were there no other visitors, there was no staff either! There was also no water (it later transpired that their pump was malfunctioning, and the ranger had been into town to get some parts). After I had checked various vehicular fluid levels (front swivels needed topping up, but so what's new?), we ate our soya-and-noodles meal, and spent the night looking at stars.
Next morning we were off bright and early, and found the ranger on our way out. There were plenty of kangaroos in the park, as well as our first flock of totally wild galahs (lots of these in Canberra, but it's just not the same as seeing them out in the wild) and a bunch of emus ("designer ostriches"). There were also a number of blind 'roos sitting in the road as we left - apparently the result of some nasty virus a few months back.
The road to Ivanhoe is sand, very wide and very straight. By now, we were in the Outback proper, which had a disconcerting resemblance to bits of the Karroo, Namibia and Botswana - disconcerting because it is quite similar, yet very different, and the combination is quite disorientating. We were delighted with the vastness of the space, the huge hot clear blue skies and the rich red soil, and felt liberated at having finally left the fences behind. In retrospect, having been back to South Africa, it's surprising that we noted any similarity at all, as it is quite different. It's amazing what being homesick can do.
Ivanhoe provided petrol and drinking water, but not much else. The petrol-station owner explained that had we been "blackfellas", he'd have given us water from the bore, rather than rainwater, which would have made us "crook". It seemed a long way from Canberra.
The Cobb Highway heading North to Wilcannia started off as a sealed road, but quickly deteriorated into soft sand, requiring four-wheel drive for the first time. We'd probably have made it without, but it made handling a lot better. We had lunch in Wilcannia (which looked and felt a fair bit like a Free State dorp on a Sunday), and then set off towards Broken Hill, looking for the turn-off to Mootwingee. We must have passed it somewhere, but there's no clear signpost, so we ended up in Broken Hill after passing through vast sweeping plains in the first real heat that we'd encountered - exacerbated quite drastically by the tar, which seemed to gather it all up and pump it directly up at us. It didn't take long to get to Mootwingee from the other side, and we were there well before sunset.
Mootwingee is another National Park, of historic as well as environmental interest, and contains an archaeologically important Aboriginal site. Access to the site is only with rangers, and we were there at the wrong time, so we didn't get to see it, but we did see the surrounding countryside. There is a range of hills across the landscape there, with semi-permanent water and quite a lot of wildlife. We spent two days walking around, and marvelled at the area, which is absolutely stunning. The heat was quite intense, and we weren't at all used to it, so mid-afternoon was an "interesting" time. We found the heat easier to deal with while we were walking, and after a few days became unconvinced of the wisdom of an afternoon siesta in the absence of a cool place to retreat to.
When we arrived, there was one other couple in the campsite, with an old VW Kombi camper and a decorated tree. We slung our mosquito net between two gum trees some distance from them, and ignored each other. Shade was a bit of a problem, but we got some from the trees, and some from an ingenious arrangement of space-blanket and string. We were mobbed periodically by the campsite's cheeky apostlebirds, which would come and visit us, seemingly wanting nothing but our company (and food, and water). There was a steady stream of overnighters while we were at the park, but no-one other than our VW friends seemed to spend any time there.
After three nights, we packed up one fine morning and drove back to Broken Hill, to spend a day sightseeing. The town is quite interesting, providing insights into Australia's politics and labour relations. The "Daily Truth" ("Labour will Prevail" on its early masthead) is still flourishing, while the opposition paper ("An Independent Voice" [of Capital]) is now a parking lot. After stocking up with food, we scuttled off down another long, hot road to Kinchega.
This is at the edge of the Menindee Lakes, and we expected to see teeming birdlife among vast lakes on the banks of the Darling River. While there was water in the river, the lakes themselves were pretty dry. Allegedly a huge rice-grower drained them dry not too long ago. We found a very nice secluded campsite next to the river. after having had our car chased by other campers' dogs, and were woken by some locals driving through the site to bundu-bash their way down to the river to fetch bait. We got the feeling that Kinchega was really a place for day trippers; there was no evidence that anyone was trying to educate us about the place or provide access to special sights or atmospheres, and it somehow had an air of faint decay. We drove and walked around a bit, valiantly trying to see the point of it all, admitted defeat after half a day, and headed for Mungo.
We had originally planned to drop in on Mungo en route back, if time allowed. Instead, we had two idyllic days exploring the eroded sand dunes and environs. While it is scenic, the "carved" dunes that are its hallmark ("The Walls of China") were formed by erosion from feral rabbits and goats, helped along by domestic stock. If anyone wants convincing that rabbits in Australia pose a real risk to the environment, they need merely visit Mungo for a few days. Rabbits scuttle around like cockroaches and after a very short time you start viewing them in much the same way. Mungo has a comprehensive visitor information centre, and a number of self-guided interpretive trails. The camp site was about half-full, but laid out in such a way that we never felt crowded. The crowning glory was visiting the dunes at sunset, watching the colours of the sands change with the changing light. Each evening, we would drive through a flock of galahs and Major Mitchell cockatoos, which would move down the road in front of the car, 10 metres at a time.
We even had to use our tent, as it rained on our last night. Not much, and with no visible effect, but it rained. Our trip back was just ahead of a storm, under lowering skies, with rain visible on every side, but never where we were. Well, almost never, we had about ten drops fall on us. The Land Rover misbehaved for the first time, with the temperature gauge climbing into the red after an hour or so. We stopped to check everything that we could think of, and let it cool off, before setting off at a reduced speed. At the point where we stopped to check out the car, we hadn't seen another vehicle for about two hours, and everywhere we looked was huge, empty space. Not really somewhere you would want to find yourself in serious trouble. Still, it wasn't all that remote, and a car would almost certainly have happened by within a few hours, if we had really been stuck.
Our 800 km return trip had stops only for fuel and food, but speeds were seldom over 80 km/hr to keep the temperature down. It wasn't just that the engine was a bit warm, or the radiator a bit choked; the whole car was incandescent by the time we hit the Snowy Mountains and the rain. Maybe I was panicking overmuch, as the temperature sender is ex-Holden, and the gauge itself is standard, so the readings may be suspect, but I didn't want to take any chances.
As a reward for its trouble-free performance, the Land Rover got new oil and filters throughout, and I have even replaced the swivel seals at last. I used split seals, which makes it a one-hour job; it isn't even necessary to use a jack! Before any future Outback trips, I'll try to check the temperature gauge, flush the cooling system and maybe even try to fit an oil cooler. The clutch stopped working the day after we returned, which was excellent timing. I overhauled the hydraulics, and now it's better than ever.