… but not for the lads. The lads were off early for a repeat visit to the Moss Garden a few kilometres up Carnarvon Gorge. They were still in search of Austroaeshna something. Frankly, I was having non of that; I just didn’t want a repeat march up and down Carnarvon Gorge in the heat. Besides, the buggers don’t stop flying and with a confused forest background, I was hardly likely to get a photo. So, I chose to have a relaxed morning packing up my tent, eating an instant oat breakfast (just add hot water from the samovar) and watching the wallabies and kookaburras around the campsite.
Eventually the boys returned empty handed, so I hadn’t missed much and I had rather enjoyed my down time. I loaded my baggage in the vehicle, a Mitsubishi Pajero [don’t buy one] and we were off to Chinchilla.
The journey was overcast and through 400kms of a largely unchanging landscape. I’m rarely able to look around in a vehicle, normally being behind the wheel, and here I was with free time on my hands and b***** all to look at. A moment of light relief occurred when we pulled into what was evidently a truck stop for lunch. The trucks in question were the Australian Road Trains. I was using the facillities when a driver spoke to me about his “automated truck that wouldn’t let me proceed unless I did a burn”. I was a little grubby so maybe he thought I was a truck driver myself and would know what he meant. I hadn’t got a clue but nodded and smiled sagely.
We arrived in Chincilla, rejected campsite A but finally got a pitch for three tents behind a load of cabins at campsite B. After setting up the tents we hit the kitchen with a Furphy or three. Furphy has become my favourite Ozzie beer. Good job we’d bought a slab of it.
Oh, my tent got a little wet for the first time – not very much but it survived.