Before we reluctantly leave Daly Waters, I should perhaps explain that the iconic pub which now draws visitors from far and wide did not begin life as such. In 1920 Bill and Rita Pearce built and opened what was then know as the 'Drovers Store' and in doing so became the first permanent settlers in the area.
But the history of Daly Waters goes back many more years. In May 1861 the famous early Australian explorer John McDowell Stuart (have you ever noticed how he is never referred to as just John Stuart?), who had been bashing his way through the lancewood scrub of the area at the agonisingly slow rate of one kilometre a day, came across a fresh water source which he named Daly Waters after the then Governor of South Australia, Sir Dominic Daly.
Daly Waters has subsequently played a vital role in the survival of cattle being droved across the country. It is the last watering hole to be found before men and beasts tackled the perilous Murranji Stock route, a torturous 250 kms stretch of the droving route from Queensland to the Kimberley.
The Pearce family recognised the commercial potential here and began the business of supplying the wandering drovers with their needs.
But the story doesn't end here. Daly Waters has the distinction of being the site of Australia's first International Airport when its primitive airfield became the first touchdown point in the country for those taking part in the England - Australia air race. This set the scene for the Peace family who, apart from resupplying the drovers, fed passengers and refuelled aircraft using the local airfield for many years. Unsurprisingly this airfield was used during WW2 as a major base.
Sot here you go! There is more to this extraordinarily little place than a night on the town. But we had 'been there, done that'. It was back to business...the business of getting to the coast of Far North Queensland.
Today was to be a long leg of this trip, over 400 kms in fact. The small township of Elliot and the roadhouse at Renner Springs provided potential overnight stop-over points, but we had been soundly cautioned against the Elliot alternative by many fellow travellers. The locals are decidedly less than friendly (read into that what you will). Renner Springs remained an option, but we decided to wait until we arrived before making the final decision.
So at what felt like an alarming early hour (but which was, in reality for us, quite civilised) we again hit The Stuart and turned southwards.
The road ahead did look a little daunting this morning but we agreed that the night before had been well worth the price we were now paying. Grit your teeth, Marshie, and get on with it!
The rather pretentiously named Dunmarra Wayside Inn
which is really just a roadhouse with extras (albeit in lovely surrounds) was soon in our rear vision mirrors as we steadily plodded south along 'The Track'.
By now the landscape was beginning to change. Gone were the large roadside trees, replaced by more stunted scrub and dry grazing lands.
We were certainly still well in cattle country as this yarding and many others we passed demonstrated.
After just under two hours on the road, Elliot loomed in our windscreen.
Like most small towns on The Stuart, the highway is the main street and despite the invitation on the sign to have a break here, we continued on. As we drove through the town and checked out the caravan park and the other infrastructure we were more than happy we had not made this our day's destination. Again, I'll leave you to work out why.
What would Renner Springs have to offer we wondered? Fuel at least.....with 250 kms yet to run to Tennant Creek, the cruiser would need a good sip from the bowser to make the distance.
Again the countryside was changing, with the open, flat plains giving way to low, undulating red earth hills.
and a return to denser bush. But the long, straight stretches still presented the constant challenge to stay alert and focused.
We were both more than usually glad to be pulling off the road as we eased into the driveway of the Renner Springs complex. And of course, we were more than usually interested in our surroundings, given that this was a potential stop-over point for the night.
As we surveyed the roadhouse/pub,
the motel units
and the dry expanses of the caravan park,
we agreed that a good spell under the shade of the driveway trees would see the extent of our stay at Renner Springs.
I have to admit that this decision was subjected to a spot of pressure once I had poked my nose in the bar of the pub section.....this looked to have some potential, but let's face it, we had been to Daly Waters.....there really is no second prize when it comes to outback pubs in this neck of the woods, and frankly, I have never been a 'hair of the dog' man!
With our pit stop over it was back to the grind. Fortunately we knew what to expect in Tennant Creek. A long day's drive always seems that little bit shorter when there is the certainty of a comfortable camp at the end of it.
As we hauled out of Renner Springs we were given a stark reminder that we were travelling in far more comfort than others on The Stuart. I mean, why would you? The very thought of having to pitch a small tent in the bush at the side of the road each evening (between towns that is) after a hard ride, and eating a scratch meal before sharing the night with whatever creepy crawlies happened to be about, had very limited appeal to us.
Again the highway took us through open country as we made our way towards yet another potential resting place, Banka Banka Homestead.
which is set just off the road in quite thick scrubby country.
Travelling friends of ours had reported enjoying a fine overnight stay here, but we had our minds well and truly set on Tennant Creek....today was a day for distance.
But of course the achievement of miles under the belt always carries the challenge of maintaining sustained concentration. One never quite knows what is around the corner.......from road trains to be avoided at all costs
to more strange cyclists to be encouraged with cheery waves (or should that read smug slightly superior smirks?)
Threeways ahead at last,
the large service station, roadhouse and caravan park just north of the junction of the Stuart and Barkly Highways, where we almost had what would have been the most incredible encounter of our entire adventure to date....but more of that later.
We pushed on past Threeways to the familiar sight of the main street of Tennant Creek
and on to the corner of Peko Road and the caravan park which would be our home for the next two days.
Our arrival in Tennant Creek, well actually the passing of the highway junction with The Barkly, was a highly significant moment for us both. We had now completed a full circuit of the country, a feat which gave us cause to reflect on where we were and what we had done in the past three years.
I can clearly recall, when initially planning our adventures, my sense of restrained concern when contemplating the distances we would be travelling in the outback and in Western Australia, when checking fuel availability and assessing potential communications problems. Tales of confrontations with crooks and/or drunks on remote highways and outback camps loomed large in the imagination. How would we cope with a medical emergency in areas where there was 600 kms of very little between major centres?
Answer.....'on the bit' as they say. We both agreed that now, as we reached this once in a lifetime travelling milestone, (it will never the be quite the same again, no matter how many times we do it) we were quietly comfortable to class ourselves as experienced and hardened 'knights of the road'.
We had survived dust and dirt, mud and slush, fled from cyclones and negotiated flooded highways. We had learnt to deal with sustained periods of gale force winds, bitter cold and searing heat. We had managed equipment failure and gear damage on both a large and small scale and effected repairs which I would have never previously thought us (me, really) capable of achieving.
We had taught ourselves how to poke our large van into some impossibly small caravan park sites and were no longer the source of entertainment for all and sundry watching as we manoeuvred onto our patch. Restrained, good humoured laughter and (usually unwelcome) advice was now replaced by comments such as "you've obviously done that before" from the inevitable watching crowds already settled in.
Cautious and sensible initial trepidation had been replaced by a sense of confidence in our own abilities, fired in the crucible of sheer experience and the need to cope no matter what. We had learnt to rely on each other and our complementary skills as a genuine team in a manner which had never been necessary before. And above all, we both also realised that despite all the set-backs and those really rotten days which are inevitable, we were having the time of our lives.
This was a seminal moment in our lives.
But the story doesn't end here. Daly Waters has the distinction of being the site of Australia's first International Airport when its primitive airfield became the first touchdown point in the country for those taking part in the England - Australia air race. This set the scene for the Peace family who, apart from resupplying the drovers, fed passengers and refuelled aircraft using the local airfield for many years. Unsurprisingly this airfield was used during WW2 as a major base.
Sot here you go! There is more to this extraordinarily little place than a night on the town. But we had 'been there, done that'. It was back to business...the business of getting to the coast of Far North Queensland.
Today was to be a long leg of this trip, over 400 kms in fact. The small township of Elliot and the roadhouse at Renner Springs provided potential overnight stop-over points, but we had been soundly cautioned against the Elliot alternative by many fellow travellers. The locals are decidedly less than friendly (read into that what you will). Renner Springs remained an option, but we decided to wait until we arrived before making the final decision.
So at what felt like an alarming early hour (but which was, in reality for us, quite civilised) we again hit The Stuart and turned southwards.
The road ahead did look a little daunting this morning but we agreed that the night before had been well worth the price we were now paying. Grit your teeth, Marshie, and get on with it!
The rather pretentiously named Dunmarra Wayside Inn
which is really just a roadhouse with extras (albeit in lovely surrounds) was soon in our rear vision mirrors as we steadily plodded south along 'The Track'.
By now the landscape was beginning to change. Gone were the large roadside trees, replaced by more stunted scrub and dry grazing lands.
We were certainly still well in cattle country as this yarding and many others we passed demonstrated.
After just under two hours on the road, Elliot loomed in our windscreen.
Like most small towns on The Stuart, the highway is the main street and despite the invitation on the sign to have a break here, we continued on. As we drove through the town and checked out the caravan park and the other infrastructure we were more than happy we had not made this our day's destination. Again, I'll leave you to work out why.
What would Renner Springs have to offer we wondered? Fuel at least.....with 250 kms yet to run to Tennant Creek, the cruiser would need a good sip from the bowser to make the distance.
Again the countryside was changing, with the open, flat plains giving way to low, undulating red earth hills.
and a return to denser bush. But the long, straight stretches still presented the constant challenge to stay alert and focused.
We were both more than usually glad to be pulling off the road as we eased into the driveway of the Renner Springs complex. And of course, we were more than usually interested in our surroundings, given that this was a potential stop-over point for the night.
As we surveyed the roadhouse/pub,
the motel units
and the dry expanses of the caravan park,
we agreed that a good spell under the shade of the driveway trees would see the extent of our stay at Renner Springs.
I have to admit that this decision was subjected to a spot of pressure once I had poked my nose in the bar of the pub section.....this looked to have some potential, but let's face it, we had been to Daly Waters.....there really is no second prize when it comes to outback pubs in this neck of the woods, and frankly, I have never been a 'hair of the dog' man!
With our pit stop over it was back to the grind. Fortunately we knew what to expect in Tennant Creek. A long day's drive always seems that little bit shorter when there is the certainty of a comfortable camp at the end of it.
As we hauled out of Renner Springs we were given a stark reminder that we were travelling in far more comfort than others on The Stuart. I mean, why would you? The very thought of having to pitch a small tent in the bush at the side of the road each evening (between towns that is) after a hard ride, and eating a scratch meal before sharing the night with whatever creepy crawlies happened to be about, had very limited appeal to us.
Again the highway took us through open country as we made our way towards yet another potential resting place, Banka Banka Homestead.
which is set just off the road in quite thick scrubby country.
Travelling friends of ours had reported enjoying a fine overnight stay here, but we had our minds well and truly set on Tennant Creek....today was a day for distance.
But of course the achievement of miles under the belt always carries the challenge of maintaining sustained concentration. One never quite knows what is around the corner.......from road trains to be avoided at all costs
to more strange cyclists to be encouraged with cheery waves (or should that read smug slightly superior smirks?)
Threeways ahead at last,
the large service station, roadhouse and caravan park just north of the junction of the Stuart and Barkly Highways, where we almost had what would have been the most incredible encounter of our entire adventure to date....but more of that later.
We pushed on past Threeways to the familiar sight of the main street of Tennant Creek
and on to the corner of Peko Road and the caravan park which would be our home for the next two days.
Our arrival in Tennant Creek, well actually the passing of the highway junction with The Barkly, was a highly significant moment for us both. We had now completed a full circuit of the country, a feat which gave us cause to reflect on where we were and what we had done in the past three years.
I can clearly recall, when initially planning our adventures, my sense of restrained concern when contemplating the distances we would be travelling in the outback and in Western Australia, when checking fuel availability and assessing potential communications problems. Tales of confrontations with crooks and/or drunks on remote highways and outback camps loomed large in the imagination. How would we cope with a medical emergency in areas where there was 600 kms of very little between major centres?
Answer.....'on the bit' as they say. We both agreed that now, as we reached this once in a lifetime travelling milestone, (it will never the be quite the same again, no matter how many times we do it) we were quietly comfortable to class ourselves as experienced and hardened 'knights of the road'.
We had survived dust and dirt, mud and slush, fled from cyclones and negotiated flooded highways. We had learnt to deal with sustained periods of gale force winds, bitter cold and searing heat. We had managed equipment failure and gear damage on both a large and small scale and effected repairs which I would have never previously thought us (me, really) capable of achieving.
We had taught ourselves how to poke our large van into some impossibly small caravan park sites and were no longer the source of entertainment for all and sundry watching as we manoeuvred onto our patch. Restrained, good humoured laughter and (usually unwelcome) advice was now replaced by comments such as "you've obviously done that before" from the inevitable watching crowds already settled in.
Cautious and sensible initial trepidation had been replaced by a sense of confidence in our own abilities, fired in the crucible of sheer experience and the need to cope no matter what. We had learnt to rely on each other and our complementary skills as a genuine team in a manner which had never been necessary before. And above all, we both also realised that despite all the set-backs and those really rotten days which are inevitable, we were having the time of our lives.
This was a seminal moment in our lives.
