Wilcannia, the town with a 'reputation', a town in which for years so many stop just long enough to top up the tank before scurrying off east or west along the Barrier Highway. Indeed we have done just that on several occasions, and I have to note that many years ago when travelling this route on my own, an enforced fuel stop resulted in a rather boisterous encounter with a group of less than welcoming locals who were besieging the one and only service station.
Over recent years much has been done in several quarters to restore the image of Wilcannia as a town with a fascinating and colourful history, one where visitors can be assured of a safe and welcoming stay whilst they explore the many grand town buildings which speak of a much busier era.
Consistent with our decision to spend time this trip in a few towns through which we have blithely sailed in previous years during our transit east across the Barrier Highway, an overnight stay in Wilcannia was on the list.
Apart from our desire to have a good look at the old town buildings, we had been encouraged to visit the golf club to enjoy what was widely purported to be one of the best Chinese meals to be had. That was enough for yours truly!
One of the handy things about this plan was the fact that Wilcannia is less than 100 kms from White Cliffs. With the prospect of little more than an hour on a very good road, this would give us plenty of time to set up and be out and about with time to spare on a one day visit.
As we bade a fond farewell to White Cliffs we again headed out into the flat, stony plains which surround the three hills of the town.
Whilst the highway does curve over the occasional hill
the vast majority of today's run was straight and level.
And what a difference five days can make! The rains which had filled the tanks at White Cliffs had fallen more heavily closer to Wilcannia, and the results in the surrounding plains were spectacularly obvious. Pools of water still lay everywhere,
but now vast tracts of the often barren plains were a carpet of green. There had been a tinge of colour to be seen on our outward trip to White Cliffs, but in the intervening days the grass had shot up,
as far as the eye could see.
With scenery like this, so different from any we had experienced previously in this area, the junction with the Barrier Highway seemed come almost too soon.
After a quick detour to the back street depot which we suspect has almost put the main street service station out of the diesel fuel business, we made our way east across the Reid Street intersection
and onto the bridge which took us over the River Darling.
Wilcannia now hosts two caravan parks. Both lie east of the town and both boast river edge locations. Given our proposed short stay, the council managed park close to the town was the obvious choice for us.
A left turn off the highway a few hundred metres east of the river crossing had us easing our way down the park entrance road
which curved around to bring us to the manager's residence which is only a short distance off the main road (you can see a van being pulled along it in centre shot).
The sign at the park entrance invited us to select a site and advised that the caretaker would catch up with us later for the payment of our fee.
It appeared that there was someone home at the residence, so we wandered in and paid our dues upfront. Duly armed with a receipt and the very necessary ablution block key
we moved on further into the park proper,
past what was obviously the original toilet block, the walls of which we decided must have been built by some-one addicted to jigsaw puzzles!
As we drove on towards (and past) a large group of campers, we were immediately struck by the number and size of the gum trees which we soon realised are a feature of this large green and shady park.
As is obvious, we had plenty of empty sites from which to make a choice. One close to the amenities block and the river seemed a good idea to us.
Cement slabs are not a feature of this park, but most sites do come with concrete strips which provide a firm surface for the van wheels. We had read that during wet periods a failure to park on these could spell trouble as the soft ground is prone to give way and trap the wheels of the unwary in glue like mud.
Although the ground had dried out well after the recent rains, we had no trouble accepting the fact that when sodden, these surrounds would be a real trap for young players,
and despite the fact that the area towards the front of the van was a little bare, I had positioned us right over a cement step off point, and there was grass to burn between us
and the nearby river bank,
along which small tables and stone fire pits were dotted at regular intervals.
The Darling was anything but a raging torrent, but knowing just how dry it has been through most of its catchment, where in many places the river bed was nothing but sand, we were pleased to see even this trickle.
On the wall of the nearby amenities block, where all was more than fit for purpose (including a 12 kilo washing machine which was free to all patrons....a first in all our travels!)
we found a salutary reminder of the fact that, like so many rivers in Australia, a run of dry seasons can end with devastating floods. This marker showed the height of the flood waters which had spilled out over the river banks to inundate most of Wilcannia in 1976. As Dorothea Mackellar so pithily penned, we do indeed live in a country of "droughts and flooding rains".
Beyond our chosen site the park roadway curved around the central camping area, past more enormous gums
with sites lining its entire length.
There is no doubt that this park falls firmly into the category of a 'rural retreat' but we could not have been happier.....a good level site, heaps of room, adequate facilities, grand gums, green grass, a river's edge, and all a stone's throw from town. Good choice!
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