The Ride to Innamincka 1 – Belonne to Bulldust

I took the liberty of joining a Queensland on-line camping group, as this was literally virgin territory. I put it put it out there, that I was heading to Birdsville, and what could distract me along the way. More than one respondent implored me to go to Innamincka and the legendary DIG tree of the ill-fated Bourke & Wills expedition. And I was convinced, especially since it is now tarred all the way.

So, I left St.George after a last minute top up and headed for Bollon, about 70klm west. Now, I talk a lot about the destinations, but there’s a lot of joy in the getting there. Not necessarily for the scenery either. For the most part, you are literally on your own, just like the explorer in a new land. You could travel 100klm and maybe see 2-3 vehicles and they’re usually towing a van. I must admit, seeing a road train out of the corner of your eye gliding past, does wrench you out of whatever vegetative like state you have been lulled into. But, they mean no harm as long as you respect the hierarchy. Road trains are the alpha-male of the road. While RV rigs can intimidate the average car user, one must tug the forelock to the approaching behemoth, especially when the road ain’t big enough for the both of you.

The reports about Bollon were all true. Six hundred metres of flooded creek frontage, hot showers and toilets a leisurely three minute stroll, a general store that sold just about everything and a couple of geese thrown in.

Apparently they’re the local celebs and are fed by the rangers every day. That’s not to say that the ducks and galahs haven’t figured out where the free meal is to be had. But they all seem to get along, at least at the dinner table. The Wallen Creek campground is a thirty six hour limit, and I used every one of them. Even though the red dirt kicked back in on the way to Bollon, the S-W is looking pretty green and lush for what’s known as ‘outback Queensland’.

Cunnamulla was a longer haul the next morning, another heard of but not seen town. One of the ‘good guys’, Cunnamulla had set aside a free camp for the RV’s, not too far a walk from town. They have recently opened a luxooorius spa baths with a price tag to match (unfortunately). Never mind, it’s footy time.

Cunnamulla Man was definitely the stand out. Not sure of the backstory, but cut an impressive figure outside the council chambers. There was the almost obligatory river walk, which in the absence of anything else is about the most photogenic thing I can find so far. It’s definitely a case of you’ve seen one town, you’ve seen them small.

Next stop, just ‘down the road’ was Eulo, a one pub, one store village that fronts the Paroo River. A large no-frills camp ground across the river, was home for the night. Above the weir, the river looked quite respectable, but below told a different story.

The flood flow from the wet season had come and moved on. The Paroo was clearly past it. An occasional van arrival throughout the arvo, meant a few camp fires into the evening. With single digit minimums for the next four months, wood collection is back on the chore list once again.

The next morning, the sun was out, all the usual Sunday rituals had been performed and I had all the intention of driving to Lake Bindegolly National Park, 40klms east of Thargominda, to hopefully see some other wildlife apart from cockatoos and galahs. But the Carranyina National Park, a mere back-of-the-mind option suddenly called me like a siren’s song. It was a significant side-track S-W to the journey, but the lure was irresistible. So, spontaneity wins out over pragmatism and that’s a good thing -sometimes….