The morning of our departure from Barkly Homestead began as the evening had left off with another less than spectacular but nevertheless satisfying display, this time in the eastern sky.
A red sky over red earth...it doesn't get much more 'Red Centre' than this. And so to the morning pack up and departure. And here we were presented with another of nature's challenges at Barkly Homestead. Mosquitoes.....squadrons of them, launching themselves like Kamikaze hordes on any skerrick of exposed flesh. By the time I had set things up to leave, the interior of the cruiser was unbelievably thick with these buzzing pests, to the point we had to shut up and spray volumes of fly spray before we could take up our seats. By the time our chemical saviour had done its work, the dashboard mat was literally thick with little mozzie bodies. We have never seen anything like it this side of a mangrove swamp.
With victory achieved and a cabin now free of our winged antagonists, it was off again west along the Barkly Highway in a gathering morning gloom, the first real clouds we had seen since we left the FNQ coast.
And like the majority of roads in this part of the world, a bend is a cause for excitement. I keep telling the bored navigator that this is good practice for the 90 mile straight stretch on the Nullarbor (the world's longest)
Rain on the windscreen, even if it is but a few drops, is also a cause for momentary excitement, momentary only because that is as long as it lasted. Did I mention it is as dry as a lime-kilner's boot up here? I suspect I may have.
On we drove, undaunted by the challenges of straight roads, piddly rain and never changing scenery until a genuine moment of excitement...'the Stuart'. We had finally reached 'The Track' at the junction known as Threeways, and were about to turn south for the first time in months. Heavens, we are only 2,000 kms from Adelaide...almost home!
At this point I have to comment that I remain relieved to find that it seems no matter how much Liz and I cavort around this huge country of ours, and how much we learn and experience, there continue to be 'those moments'. For me at least, this was one such.
The country seemed to change markedly as we made our way the short distance from Threeways to Tennant Creek. The grassy plains gave way to some decidedly different vistas
as we approached the cutting in the hills which surround the northern approaches to Tennant Creek.
In no time at all we were at the northern end of the main street of a town that had been on my personal 'bucket list' for ages, if for no other reason than I could not believe that it could be as bad as so many people had said. And it wasn't. I don't think I would really like to live in Tennant Creek, but I now know that the tales of woe spun to us by many are just that...tales from folk with a very narrow perspective on the world.
Having said that, we were just a tad daunted as we approached our caravan park on Peko Road. Apart from the relative greenery of the main street, Tennant Creek is decidedly dry and barren,
but things looked much more encouraging as we made out way through the park entrance (here pictured complete with model).
This is one of those parks where sites are not allocated and at this time of the season there were plenty from which to choose, particularly given that we were, again, first in for the morning.
I have found that my old army compass is invaluable on occasions such as these when site selection is driven by the need for shade. This is not to say I get it right all the time, but we have usually fared pretty well in working out the likely path of the sun for the remainder of the day.
And so it was in Tennant Creek. After wandering around for a while I picked the site with the most potential shade and we backed in and set up for our stay of two nights.
Despite the rather bleak general outlook in the park, we had as comfortable a stay as could be expected when the daytime temperatures hovered on 40 degrees and at night it did not dip below 26. As had the been the case since we left Mount Isa, the caravan air conditioner was on duty almost constantly. This sort of heat can be taxing enough for us humans....for poor old black Max with his fur coat, it can be purgatory if cooling is not provided.
This is one of those parks where a licenced bar is part of the amenity. Liz and I did venture down here for late afternoon refreshment on our first day, but to our disappointment we were the only starters.
The park pool was a godsend, even for one such as your correspondent who normally scorns anything less than 20 metres long. A brief two stroke flop is more than welcome in this weather irrespective of the fact it can hardly be called a 'swim'.
In addition to the normal sightseeing which was on our Tennant Creek agenda, we had another mission. One of my good friends and colleagues from my Workcover and government investigation days was posted to the TC police station twenty years or so ago when he was with the NT Police. He had been instrumental in developing a 'Police Club' in a building behind the station in which brass plaques are set into the bar to commemorate the service of all who have been posted to this particular station. In all the years since, despite entreaties to former comrades in arms of all ranks, he has been unable to acquire a photo of his plaque.
We were determined to set this to rights, so, once settled, we trotted down to the main street to the very imposing local station where I introduced myself to one of the on-duty sergeants and explained my quest. He was most accommodating and duly took me through the station and out the back
where a rather non-descript exterior hid a more than acceptable watering hole within. Here all the local police and their guests are able to socialize together without interference or the need to be constantly looking over their shoulders. From some of what we later noted in Tennant Creek, the ability to be able to have a quiet drink amongst their mates in private surroundings is a highly desirable thing for the local blue hats.
and here it is old mate....mission accomplished.
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