Day Thirteen: Chillagoe to Mt Surprise
With our plans now completely changed due to yesterday’s power outage, we bounced out of bed, scoffed breakfast and made out way to the Donna Cave for our first tour of the day. It seemed half of north Queensland had also been power afflicted, as the tour ended up being 30 people with one straggler rounding it out to a neat 31.
Donna was a completely different experience to the Royal Arch the previous day. It was much smaller, yet much more spectacular in its intricate stalactites and stalagmites. A minute after entry to the cave via some very steep steps, we found out that the name being a shortened version of the ‘Madonna’, was so named for its first feature halfway down the stairs. One of the tites or mites (not sure which one) showed the form of a regal lady. The shadow she cast was even more lifelike with Ron making the very real observation that her boobs got bigger with each step into the cave.
We very slowly moved from chamber to chamber mesmerised by what nature could throw up if given a few million years of encouragement. The odd rock fall was evident, and it wasn’t lost on any of us that they had occurred at a moment in time and their mates far above us could at any moment join the party down below. The trick was for us not to be there when that happened.
With a bit of time between the first and second tours we packed the vans, hit the dump point and had a coffee before heading into the Trezkinn Cave for a look. A smaller group this time added to the experience that was highlighted by a close up look at a formation called the chandelier. At about a bit to 12 we were done with caving and on the road towards Mt Surprise via the Savannah Way Alternate Route.
Just as we left the city of Chillagoe, G alerted Peter (yelled at him) to not hit ‘them’. ‘Them’ are correctly named Guinea Fowl and appear in abundance in the area. Not native as far as we know, Peter has re-named them Waddle Ducks, for their little bums go hell for leather side to side when walking. He swore upon a Landrover badge he would never place the life of a waddle duck in mortal danger again.
For an alternate, the route was a good one. We had mostly dirt road in mostly pretty good condition. Dips and culverts were our friends but nothing to set us back at all. We crossed a couple of creeks that were frankly pristine. We lunched at one after Pete the Picnic Place Picker, failed again. In his memory he had a picture of a creek he had stopped at years ago just near a left turn, just near a cattle station. Finally giving up after not finding it, we stopped a close second best only to happen upon the real thing a few short kilometres later.
Mt Surprise came up in the early afternoon. And what a Surprise. Like stepping into a lift to see your boss face to face and it is obvious for the next 13 floors he has let one rip moments before your entry. Something instantly smelt off.
It took a bit to find fuel. It took a moment to find out the pub was open but did not do meals, and according to a local, had an unfriendly publican. Although this was not our experience. He seemed OK by Mt Surprise standards.
Our visit to the shop of horrors revealed a lady desperate to sell her shop so she could go and meet with Elon Musk and tell him where he is going wrong with implants into the human brain. We excused ourselves quickly fearing being a future brain wave subject. Next was the van park.
The little man zoomed around like a wallaby on speed to situate us somewhere near where he wanted us to be, but demanded Ron and Julie have a powered site so he could fit another van in if it came calling. It didn’t!! It appeared he was the manager and told us with certain authority that the police would charge us if we even thought of using the massive free camp site just down the road. Peter was tempted to tell him, but let’s face it we are on holidays and what would we write about if there was not the odd out of kilter personality to endure.
We spent the next hour or two fixing the little things that go bust on any trip. Peter straightened the radio ariel on the van. We fixed a technical hiccough with Richard and Denise’s van rear camera, and Ron dreamt about his new bulbar.
Dinner was next, to be ordered from the little man’s wife. Armed with the knowledge that dinner was only to be cooked between 4pm and 6pm, and that the kitchen would stop cooking before 6pm, we did the unthinkable and ordered our food early to be picked up at 5.30pm.
We dropped back over with no apparent urgency to be told ‘we are under the pump; we’ll get to it.’ We waited patiently and genuinely enjoyed the entertainment as customers were rejected at the counter only to inform the lady that they had pre-ordered as well. Finally our orders came off the assembly line. They weren’t half bad either. The burger was a solid seven out of ten and the fish was a genuine slab of barramundi.
It had been a full day. Sleep came easy.