Hells Gate

Tuesday 07

The usual was underway; shower, eat breakfast, pack the awning and RTT away, check tyre pressures, brush our teeth and re stock our water. Yet today, we weren’t going to fill the water tank up as we were told that the water at Adels Grove was from the spring and had a high concentration of calcium. The last thing we wanted was to block our water pump up in the middle of nowhere. Checking the dip stick on our water tank, we calculated half a tank would be more than enough to shower and wash up for three to four days. We had forty litres of un-opened drinking water on board and an additional six or so litres in another container. We were set. But not without getting an Adels Grove sticker from the small shop they had next to the office. We are trying to collect stickers from all the places we have traveled so far, as a momento from the trip.

Last night we studied the map and found a four wheel drive track directly north from Lawn Hill. A back track and taking it would cut out a considerable amount of the main road. We asked the woman in the office whilst buying the sticker if it as accessible to us? With her confirming it, she warned us of the condition of the track being rough in places and to “drive to the road conditions’’.

A saying I hear all the time on mine sites. She carried on telling us about the road to Borroloola (where we were heading) warning us once again that apparently the road conditions were brutal. “some people complain about the road in to us, some people think its fine. But everyone who has come from Borroloola has told us how terrible it is”.

With our sticker in tow and the excitement of a whole dirt road adventure ahead, we took off.

The back road up to Doomadgee saw us our second and third creek crossing of the trip. Along with a couple of cattle gates where there is an un-written rule where the passenger has to open and close the gate for the driver. An amusing time for myself whilst I watch the wife sigh at the sight of each cattle gate. “Out you get babe. Sorry”.

We assumed that most other people were not using this particular track as it was marked on our Hema map as a four wheel drive track. Not for the caravan-towing grey nomads. The rest of the track was a pleasure. Almost un-used, with no corrugations it was smooth and a made for a fun drive. A great short cut and seeing parts of this country that most have not, including a scene that both of us do not often see – the recent scar to the land from a bush fire. Everything was black. Black on the western side of the road as far as the eye could see. Yet on the eastern side just the familiar sight of dry yellow grass and small shrubs with green leaves still a bloom. We pondered how it had been started as we drove down the middle of the two contrasting pictures.

We aired down once again as we hit the black top of the Savannah Highway. She is riding nicely on the black top on 36psi on the front and 55psi in the rear. It has taken us a while to get it set to what we believe is the most effective and efficient pressure. A timely process but super beneficial to our fuel consumption and longevity to our tyres.

Up the road, we passed a sign welcoming us to the ‘Aboriginal Shire’, a place we have long waited to experience. We pulled into Doomadgee to refuel and grab a loaf of bread. It was just a road house and here we saw our highest fuel price for the trip. $1.98 per litre.

The sight of a ‘gravel road ahead’ sign was once again in front of us. We pulled over and aired down. Looking on our Hema HX-1 and studying the map, the road was going to be a dirt road until Borroloola. Exciting stuff. After the woman back in the office warning us of the bad state of the road, I dropped the air a little lower as a test. 28 psi in the rear and 18 in the front. Looking at the tyres they looked similar in shape. Both bulging over at the bottom and laying down a larger foot print on the road surface. Hopefully this makes for a smoother ride!

“Damn it babe I thought the map said it was gravel road all the way to Borroloola?’’
“It does, Im not sure why its bitumen again?”

A ute was coming towards us. I flashed them down and luckily they stopped. An elderly couple with what looked like tents, and basic camping supplies.

“Sorry to stop you mate, but how long does the bitumen go for? I have just aired down and don’t really want to air up again”.
“Mate you have another forty kilometres to go roughly until dirt road. Then you will hit dirt for a little while and once again it will turn back to the black top.”
“OK thanks mate, how’s the road to Borroloola? Rough?”
“Mate once you hit Hells Gate, she’s rough as hell!” His wife in passenger seat sat and nodded in agreement. We thanked him and decided to air back up. The last thing we wanted was to spoil our tyres. Once again we hit gravel road and we aired back down. I started to get quite quick at it.

Hells Gate, we were hoping it did not live up to its name.

A quick coffee stop for Cath and I grabbed a small Hema paper map of the Gulf we were about to cross and we were off again. I like the idea of having a paper map as back up, you can never truly rely on electrical equipment. Better to be safe than sorry.

This review of the road I am about to give you is one from someone who has spent the last eight years or so driving and living in the bush. So it may have a different analysis to anyone else you may speak to. So bare this in mind when reading this. Personally I did not find it too bad to tell you the truth. It had its rough sections, and it had its not so rough sections. It was pretty much corrugated the whole way, but I honestly cannot say it was the worst or the easiest drive I have experienced. But with our suspension set up and tyre pressures sitting at a great pressure, we absorbed most of the teeth shattering judders you get from other vehicles I have driven (including our own with our old suspension). We sat roughly at one hundred kilometers an hour and glided over the top.

With the constant ploom of dust in the wing mirrors and the vibration on our bums we made it to the Northern Territory border.

A few snaps later and me clambering up onto the bonnet of the ute so I could place our blog sticker up on the sign for others to see, we had entered the Northern Territory. The corrogations were constant yet the scenery slowly changed. Thick dry tall grass sat under small shrub like trees, glowing luminous green through my polarized sunglasses set on each side of the road. Often passing burnt patches for a bit where bush fires had been, yet there were still the green leaves on the tree. Old bush fires had scarred the land but new growth was flourishing with green blooms. Electrifying greens ever present through my lenses. This was healthy country. The presence of fat cattle a familiar sight.

Quite often there would be ‘dip’ signs, where we would slow right down, to make our way down and meet a flowing river or creek crossing at the bottom, always accompanied by the croc warning signs of course. We sat for five or so minutes before we crossed the water. Giving the differential oil time to cool while we stocked back up on water bottles and snacks. It was hungry work.

It was that time of day again. The sun was in that part of the sky where we would evaluate the map, look at Wikicampers and evaluate our situation for the evening’s camp spot. Wikicampers showed a spot about thirty kilometers ahead, or another one seventy or so kilometers after Borroloola. We knew it was going to be a push to make the second camp sight before sun set, but I think we both wanted to make good progress as we had a later start that we wanted, so we pushed on.

“Is that? NO WAY! That’s a bloody DONKEY!” As Shrek’s mate old Eddie Murphy ran out in front of us!

“A donkey!? Since when have you ever heard of donkeys roaming around?”
“I haven’t babe, its news to me!”

I have been told mixed messages from mates that have travelled the Gulf of Carpentaria before that Borroloola was not worth stopping in. But I had to see for myself, with the sun setting on the horizon we drove through town. They were right there is not much there, a caravan park, a fuel station and a small grocery store. A quick check on our emails from having service and we were on again.

We pulled out of town. Bitumen again. We aired up for the third time today, had a quick check around the ute for anything that may have rattled loose or broken and all spot lights were on. We slowed our pace as we drove into the sunset. Ninety kilometers an hour as the sky was lit up in purples and oranges as the sun took its way out of view and over the horizon. We don’t like driving at night out here, it is not worth it, especially after the donkey running out. Luckily we did slow down, as we nearly missed two dark brown brumbies stepping out onto the road, camouflaged into the background in the light. Another corner and there was a bull in the road. We came to a stop. This big fella wasn’t budging, he stood staring at us and lowered his head and showed off his horns still staring. I quickly took off and drove around him.

Finally camp was ahead. It was a small road base lay-by next to a small conservation park. A van and family in a ute and caravan were already parked and had prime positions on level ground. We circled the layby until we found somewhere suitable. Finally parked up and off the road, Cath whipped up a storm in our pull out kitchen, and we quickly feasted.

“Leave the washing up for the morning babe, I’m shattered”. We both agreed.

The father of the young family had his electric chainsaw out and was cutting up wood for a fire. Once we were all packed up and set for bed we thought we would go over for a chat, and seek some comfort from the warmth from the fire as the temperature was quickly plummeting. We shared camp stories and information of places to go and the conditions of roads. It ended up being a rather nice way to end the day. Our teeth were chattering as we left the warmth of the fire and got into bed.

Wednesday 08

“Eeehhh orrr, ehh orrr ehh orr”
“What the!!??”
“Bloody hell that’s the sound of a donkey!” We whispered to each other. I lent out the ladder end of the tent with Cath’s head torch in hand. I scanned around and couldn’t see a thing. So I climbed back into bed and closed my eyes. I woke again to the sound of chomping – something was eating. Whatever it was, it was close to us. I worried about a cow leaning up on our RTT ladder, so once again I had another look with Cath’s head torch but I couldn’t see anything. It was on the other side of the ute away from the ladder so I climbed back into bed again. I was nearly asleep when I heard grunting, the sound of a pig.

“It’s a pig babe, that’s the sound of pigs”. It was starting to get really cold and we huddled together for warmth.

Eight degrees it apparently got down to last night, and every animal not native to Australia had come through camp last night.

You can never truly shut off and get a descent sleep when you’re ‘outside’, it is hard and wearing.

Exchanging experiences with the young couple the night before, they had told us that the conservation site we had stayed on the edge of was a little treasure out here and a short walk would reveal a small water hole teeming with life. As it was right there we took a quick look. It had ducks sitting in a lily pond. Not sure where the crocs were, but I am sure they weren’t far.

Back at the car park, I remembered this was the point where I would have to flip my front tyres over. With mud terrains tyres, if you keep them on just the one rim rotating constantly in the same direction they have a habit of wearing a flat spot. So it is advised to flip them from right to left, front to back every five thousand kilometers or so. Well, we had reached that point since I last flipped them. Out came the high lift jack. I had the wheel nuts loose and the front end of the car up in the air in no time. Flipped the fronts around and she was back on her feet again and tightened up in a jiffy. Job done. For another five thousand kilometers anyway. I cannot lift the rear of the car up in one as I with the front, so the rear had to stay the same for now.

Smoke filled the air on the horizon. As we slowly neared it, it was becoming apparent that there was more smoke and darkening quickly. It went from being gray to a dark black. It billowed up and the fire was clearly growing. As we passed, the cause of the black smoke was not visible. It was about five hundred meters or so into the bush. But we were down wind of it and smelling the effect of it. As we passed through the smoke a swarm of eagles and falcons took to the air. Not wanting to hit one I anchored on the brakes. A wedge-tailed grazed the windscreen – when you get that close to the birds of prey you really get a good view of just how big these birds are. Narrowly missing it, we noticed the fire burning in a straight line along the side of the road. These birds were obviously waiting in ambush, using the fire as an aid to flush out potential prey for an easy meal. Astonishing!

No fire crews, no two-way radio activity and no one seemingly alarmed driving past us. It was weird. But as we had seen from the day before there was often small self-igniting ‘spot fires’ burning in the NT outback. The way the bush must rejuvenate and grow for thousands if not millions of years in history. Spectacular and beautiful to see. Definitely not something we are both used to seeing.

“Holy crap one hundred and thirty kilometers an hour!” This was the new legal speed we were allowed to do. Not that we would, as sitting on one hundred was a comfortable speed to conserve fuel. It’s a fantastic law, these long long straight roads can make you so drowsy. At least if you are moving along a little faster, its going to get you there quicker and two, it surely keeps you a little more sharper as the increase in speed must keep you that little bit more alert. Should the other states and territories not follow suit? I would love to see the stats on this.

Mataranka was where we were heading. The young couple from last night had told us of a camp ground right next to a natural hot spring you could swim in. We jumped at the idea and turned up. We found our camp spot, quickly set up, grabbed our towel and walked, noodle over shoulders down to the spring.

Set under a tall canopy of palm trees lay this beautiful oasis in the desert.

There was water holes everywhere. We followed the path and found the spring. We found the steps and waded in. Free of charge, this 33 degree spring river was absolutely incredible. I could not think of a nicer way to spend the end to a long days drive. We floated down the spring about one hundred meters or so until we found the exit stairs. Cath got out and said “Its freezing!” and quickly jumped back in. We decided it would be good exercise to swim back up stream and do it all over again. So we did several times. Whilst wading around the waters we got chatting to a man and found out was from Gordon in Sydney! Who would of thought! It really is a small world. We exchanged travel stories and found out that he and his wife had just come via the Kimberley’s and Kakadu. The reverse of our own route. He ended up inviting us around that night to his camp ground to discuss details of the road ahead.

Steve, Sue and their resident termite mound, made us feel super welcome at their ‘camp’. They even provided us with a seat each. Something we are unfortunately unable to provide for others in our own camp. We listened to camping stories and enjoyed a cold soothing Asahi beer and wine they gave us. Full of information we soaked up the details like sponges and took notes. Steve wasn’t impressed with my high lift jack usage that morning but everyone has their own experiences and knowledge when it comes to four wheel driving. That is the beauty of it. Everyone has their own stories and both Steve and Sue have become part of our story on this trip. Great people and I hope we are able to share stories in the future with once again.

It is amazing who you meet on the road. You speak to people who you would normally just pass on the street without a thought. Us campers, explorers what ever we are alike, share the same desire for adventure and the need to soak up all this beautiful continent has to offer. With that, comes an easy going, stress free, open friendly community of all ages that both myself and Catherine are really starting to enjoy, just as much as the adventure itself.

The Cooks.