Day 14 - Borroloola, near Roper Bar

---

We wake up having had an incident free Saturday night in Boroloola. Boroloola is situated in the South Eastern corner of the Northern Territory. Sadly, there are some social issues with the indigenous community up here which amongst other things sees the need for a police drive by, around the caravan park at night and for the amenities block to be constantly locked. Key access only. Also, it would also appear that the only dogs in Boroloola are big ones. Not the type that want to play ‘fetch the ball’ if you know what I mean. We pack our gear away and head for the Police Station. Yep, you heard me. The Police Station. Our reason is a trivial one but a sensible one. As we are heading off to Roper River (Crocodile country) and we want to get some information on the condition of the road, particularly the bits where we have to cross creeks or rivers or streams. I wouldn’t want a Croc to see me pushing a stalled Land Cruiser across a swollen water course. A man my size would look like an ideal Sunday dinner for a Croc family of four.



The Police Woman who came to the door would have been ideal for a family of five. An imposing Amazon type she politely told us that she had no idea about the state of the Nathan River Road and told us to look it up on the internet. Whatever she said was fine with us. We thanked her profusely and we left. Ok, we’ll have to wing it. The road starts off, the way yesterdays’ finished. Tough going. An endless red earth track winding its way through the Australian bush. The cars’ suspension and axle were baring up but were wondering what the hell is going on. Nothing like this ever happened in Glebe going to the café and back. As the kilometres rolled by, we came across a sign to the South Lost City. We decided that we would try to find it.



There are those times when you have no expectation about what you are about to find. You are just going along with it, to break the trip. This little detour proved to be quite spectacular. An imposing rocky outcrop that contained 30+ pinnacles of lava created rocks. Sporadically spaced to resemble a city. It was amazing. We met some fellow travellers who encouraged us to walk a track through ‘the city’. On with the walking boots and the aeroguard and we were off. There was something mesmorising about this place and I could swear I could hear the haunting flute from ‘Picnic at Hanging Rock”. Although I had Chris and not Miranda so there was no real urgency to try and find him when he disappeared behind a rock.



We managed to get back to the car and we headed off once more towards Ropers Bar. The road had improved by now and we were making good time but we did need to find a campsite. The first one we tried was frequented by a large caravan contingent. There were only two free sites, both of which were exposed and on rocky ground. We jump back into the car and continue to search. The next one we turn into is deserted, not a tent, not a caravan, not a person. We look at each other, ‘Nup’, we decide. The sun is sinking rapidly, we need to take the next one. Mundibilja (or in English, Tomato Island) comes into view. It’s perfect. So perfect, that we have our own football field size site to ourselves and what’s better it is all grass. Sprinklers flitting away to keep it soft and green. We had to pinch ourselves. The whole time we were there, we were expecting someone to confront us with. ‘What the hell are you doing?” But it never came. We had our own Barbecue facilities, our own stone table and chairs. Anyone would think that we camped on the picnic area for day visitors. Ridiculous.

Chris took forever to have his shower today. When I confronted him about the time taken, he told me that he became enveloped in a social engineering research project. “What?” I say. “Well I was in the shower and the next thing I know there is a woman and a man in the next shower cubicle. I had to time my exit for obvious reasons.’ He said. We both look at each other. ‘The youth of today’ we sigh and shake our heads. Goodnight.

---