Birdsville or bust. The rain overnight had dampened the campground just enough to worry us as to what the roads may be like for the remaining 311 kilometres to Birdsville.
As we headed north, we began to encounter bog holes, medium sized bog holes and some really big bog holes. We managed to negotiate all without issue ,indeed admiring the efforts of lady driving a Commodore towards us, having obviously negotiated similar obstacles in two wheel drive on road tyres. She obviously knew the country and her car. Hats off.
Happening upon a water truck and grader ahead, we took little heed. Little heed until the road became like a skating rink. As we got closer, we saw the grader was in fact ripping up the road surface and the truck was drenching the soft clay. A few interesting moments came our way as we picked our passing opportunities very carefully and continued on.
The environment changed constantly. Often barren, with even gibbers not able to eke out a decent existence. Often lush with desert foliage flourishing and usually dry lakes full of water. The roads changed also. One moment bone jarring corrugations, the next ,slippery mud and clay. Tuning out at the wheel was not an option.
As we approached a fairly low-key mud hole, we noticed a jet-black Holden Commodore SS pulled up on the other side. The driver was out of the car examining the muddy mess. He told us he was considering whether he should put some rocks in the hole before driving through it. Bernie convinced him it would be OK and that we would stay to make sure he got through. With warnings given of the bog holes to come, he and his young family set sail ever south, hoping to make Mungeranie by days end.
The mention of a few slippery bits ahead of us from out mud hole mate, proved to be true. We came upon a ten plus kilometre section of light -coloured, dry looking, wet slop. The moment the tyres broke the surface it was game on, with constant steering inputs needed to keep Puma and the Toyota headed towards Birdsville instead exiting into the bush.
Early afternoon we crossed the SA / Qld border. Annette and G breathed a huge sigh of relief to be back in the good state. We all felt a bit more at home despite being 1600 kilometres from our houses.
Through COVID checks at the Windorah turn-off and we were in Birdsville. We were greeted warmly by Trevor, Sue and Maxi. We spent hours telling stories, drinking wine, having dinner and catching up.
A phone call from the local police during dinner inquired whether or not we had seen a jet-black SS Commodore on the Birdsville Track. Our hearts sank as we could all picture the lad and his family having to spend a cold night alone on the side of the road; hungry and very much on edge. As Peter prepared to drive down the track with Stefan, a second call told us the stricken family had made it safely to Mungeranie.
With Bernie and Annette heading home Saturday and Trevor, Sue and Maxi heading to the Diamantina Lakes National Park, we headed off to bed at a reasonable hour. None of us heard it, but Annette asked the next morning if we had heard her scream overnight. Apparently at about 10 pm Annette heard a scratching noise on top of the swag. She awoke fully to spy a rat trying to gain access. Annette’s scream woke Bernie who dispatched the rat with one well timed backhander. Annette did not sleep a wink for fear of another rat attack. Bernie returned to a sound sleep despite having only half an inch of mattress for Annette was not returning to the side of the swag from whence the would-be intruder came.
Saturday morning, we said our good-byes, wished each other well and watched as the Toyota and 130 Defender headed their separate ways. Peter and G spent the day cleaning, washing and doing stuff you just have to do when travelling in preparation for moving on Sunday.
