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DAY 62 Wednesday 23rd September

We left Lawn Hill National Park around 8.45am bound for Doomadgee and later Hells Gate via a 4WD track though the Bowthorn Cattle Station. We could not find the roads marked on our maps but were given a brochure on the station which had a hand-drawn mud map. It seemed the thing to do as it would give us a short-cut of at least 100km to Hells Gate and it was well sign-posted.

Just before we had to make a decision to turn left or right at an intersection the rain hit hard and it was no longer fun to be driving. The trailer was losing all traction and slipping and sliding from side to side no matter what we did even though we were travelling in low range 4WD. The roads that 5 minutes ago were dusty and dry suddenly disappeared under huges puddles of water. The gulf savannah floodplains could not absorb the unseasonal sudden rain had turned our shortcut into a quagmire.

We considered our options at the intersection: 45kms to the Aboriginal community of Doomadgee or 28km to the well advertised, traveller friendly, Bowthorn Station whose phamflet offered free morning tea and bush hospitality for visitors. I was feeling nervous with the trailer sliding out of control and we had already sideswiped a small tree with it. We deviated from our original plan and took the left turn to run for cover at Bowthorn Station Homestead.

We'd only travelled 8km from the intersection when we made a right hand bend and too late saw a deep hole where the road had recently erroded away. The passenger rear wheel of the car dropped in and we both seemed to expect that we were going to roll the car but somehow the wheel popped out but then the trailer fell in.

In those split seconds, with absolutely no visability out the rear doors, David drove the trailer through the hole thinking it would pop out like the car but he realised too late that it had rolled. We stopped and jumped out of the car to find our trailer lying on its right side in the running mud with its left door wide open and our gear spilling out. We were devastated.

Because the trailer slipped into the hole on its left side it launced itself 180 degrees over onto the other side when the car pulled it out of the hole. This side then suffered damage also which bent the doors, hence they were open and wouldn't shut without force.

Here we were in the pouring rain and mud, 18km from the homestead, 50km from Doomadgee and 72km from Lawn Hill station. We could make no radio contact and no one was expecting us anywhere. Devastated, we salvaged what we could into the car and set about the recovery. Using the hand-winch and a tree 20m into the scrub David had the trailer upright and mobile in less than one hour. We limped the last 18km to Bowthorn Station Homestead and were greated with hot coffee, fruit cake and the smell of freshly baking bread. David and Kerrie McGinnis treated us with kindness and offered great assistance to have us back on the road by 3.30pm to Kingfisher Camp 33km up the track (owned by them). Whilst David was sorting out the car repairs I was inside talking with Kerrie who I found to be a fascinating conversationalist. I don't know how she was educated because from the time she was 12, David her brother and her parents started droving and continued until 1996 when the McGinnis family bought the Bowthorn Station cattle property. Despite the obvious lack of formal education Kerrie was extremely knowledgable on almost every subject and I enjoyed her company very much.

At Kingfisher Camp on the Bowthorn Station we met up with a couple from NZ who are travelling around the the world in a Troop Carrier similar to ours. We started talking and found we were similar age and were headed to Darwin in a similar timeframe. Although it was raining the guys were keen to head out tomorrow although the girls were feeling a little hesitant given our recent misfortune in the mud. We agreed to leave the decision to the morning.

Kingfisher was quite a friendly camp with most people stopping overnight just to get out of the mud. I met up with Merewyn and Andy from Darwin who had just come through Roper Bar, Borroloola, and Hells Gate so we talked in the usual way strangers at campgrounds speak - about road conditions and good camp sites.

DAY 63 Thursday 24th September

Around 10am our two troopies headed out in the mud tracks to Hells Gate. We picked up frozen bread for $4, drinks, eggs and fuel (95c per litre) from Hells Gate Roadhouse. It was good just to stop to rest from the constant sverving around mud holes and muddy splashes. From here, Mark drove with David and I drove with Sharon in their Troopie just to compare how the cars travel. After a few kilometres we stopped and Sharon then switched with Mark so both could try the passenger seat in our car. At Wollogorang Roadhouse we stopped for lunch and beer restocking and then continued through escarpment country with the road improving all the time as the sun continued to shine.

At 3.30pm we stopped by the Robinson River and set up camp by the stream. The guys tried to catch fish but were not lucky. I did some hand washing using the river water and prepared a lamb roast with sweet potato and potato in the camp oven. Mark and Sharon are having pasta and are suffering without the use of their 29L Engel - it seems to have the same disease as ours did. Since leaving England their Engel has broken down 3 times. They have both been working in England for a few years and are now DRIVING home to NZ. The trip is almost over, having explored Europe, India, Middle East and Malaysia but have until Christmas to travel through Australia. We are enjoying sharing a few days with such interesting people.

DAY 64 Friday 25th September

We left the Robinson River through more patchy, wet roads but otherwise the road to Borroloola was pretty good. We heard from another camper at Robinson River that just out of Borroloola we would find a fishing club at King Ash Bay. We stocked up our supplies at the supermarket in town (at ridiculous prices) and headed out to find the fishing club.

After dinner we turned the lights off and spent a few hours star gazing. We had a strange little creature, that we guessed was a firefly, hang around our camp. We fished out of the McArthur River but only from the left bank. It really is a place for those with a boat as the river is quite large and the banks a little sandy. I was told that across on the other bank fishing is banned as is any entry by white man. The aboriginals own the entire right side of the bank and are looking at the other bank although it is currently privately owned by the fishing club.

Mark and Sharon had been discussing their travel budget and comparing their costs with ours. I had started to lose track of our expenses and so in the midst of this remote bush camp I got motivated to set up a database on the laptop for our expenses.