Day Fourteen : Mt Surprise to Cobbold Gorge
We had agreed a turn out time of 9am was appropriate, as we had but a couple of hundred ks to reach our overnight destination of Cobbold Gorge to the southwest. A sleep in was the order of the day. Until….. the speed charge wallaby decided right on 7am was the best time to empty the recycling bin full of bottles next to Ron and Julie’s van. Job done, we were then all awake and ended up getting away a few minutes early.
On the way out we noticed a group of about 20 Rural Fire workers lining up for breakfast. Based on last night’s panic we reckoned we would seek morning tea somewhere else. Anywhere else! Richard was well pleased to see this little hamlet in his rear view camera.
Headed towards our first stop at Einasleigh we motored along mostly on dirt road of varying quality. Again we dove into and out of dips, gullies and the odd washout. Roos and cattle were our constant companions with one big jumper deciding to drag race Ron and Julie for a bit before cutting directly across in font of them.
Not that far before reaching Einasleigh we came across the spectacular Einasleigh River crossing. Only ankle deep, it presented no problems, yet was the perfect back drop for those iconic photos of our 4wds in the remote outback we can brag about for years. Any well driven Hyundai Excel would have cleared the obstacle but that’s not the point of a good story.
We dropped in to see Copperfield Gorge opposite the Einasleigh pub, including a walk along its banks. There were fish of a size Ron was very interested in, but he chose not to hunt and gather this time. Genevieve befriended a calf, chatting quality bovine for a short time whilst learning of its home life and shortage of good long green grass in the harsh brown land.
Julie headed off towards the still used rail bridge crossing the southern end of the gorge. She came back a little bemused as to any self respecting trian that would dare to cross that structure. Her description of the rehabilitation work was thus; it looks like they put up a steel stay and hoped the next one would support it. From our viewpoint she was right on target.
Upon leaving we got the inevitable photo of the group outside the iconic pub and spoke to the equally iconic owner who was recovering from and equally iconic long, hard night it seemed. He was a decent chap and had a decent story to tell.
Off we headed toward Forsyth on a cracker of a road that wound its way along every ridge line it could reasonably find this far from the coast. We came across road works of significant magnitude turning a rotten dirt track into a wide open bitumen highway. Just not yet.
Forsyth was the surprise Mt Surprise wasn’t. The pub for lunch was clean, efficient ,with great food and even better service from the two English backpackers and the old Australian bloke keeping them in line. It was a blissful experience to say the least.
The last 40 odd ks to Cobbold Gorge was dirt with interest. More dips, cattle, and roos with a few thousand corrugations thrown in. Still, the country was picturesque verging on beautiful in its own right.
Arriving at Cobbold, we noted it had not much changed from last time we were here. The dam, now called a lagoon was bigger, but that about rounded out the enhancements. We set up, watched the Broncos get rounded up by the Bulldogs and ate cheese.
Julie, however was heart broken for her sipping glass now 14 years old was no longer. It had not survived a category 6 fall from the overhead cupboard to the floor of the van whilst crossing corrugation number 4591. She sadly carried it to its last resting place in the big green bin of eternity.
Daylight faded as did our energy with dreamtime fast approaching.