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Day's 1 to 6 12/8/2014 to 17/8/2014
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- Day 1 - Wangaratta to Renmark
- Day 2 - Renmark to 30km's out of Port Augusta
- Day 3 - 37kms North of Port Augusta to Mabel Creek
- Day 4 - Mabel Creek- 60kms in to Anne B to Anne Beadell 25kms short of Emu 15-8-2014
- Day 5 -Anne Beadell near Emu to The Unamed Conservation Park 16-8-2014
- Day 6 - UCP to 25kms south of Vokes Corner 17-8-2014
- Day's 7 to 12 - 18/8/2014 to 23/8/2014 >
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Day 7 - Dalgaranga Meteorite Crater to Wiluna - Sun 18 Oct 2015
The morning was cooler and a couple of guys were dusty, but all in all we had survived another Stibilj birthday. The intent today was to get moving quickly and push on which we did, breaking camp and leaving before 7.00am. The previous day we had covered around 330 kms but were still 200+ short of our intended target for that day of Meekatharra. We got up and away and then we stopped shortly after and had a look around an old sheep station. We got away from there keen to run and then we stopped and looked at some aboriginal rock art at Walga. So after that we got ripping along and we stopped at the town of Cue which was surprising. Again like Coolgardie there were the signs of days of grandeur past with three pubs close by in the main street and a magnificent old post office. But around the area there were many abandoned mines and the local shop, which was open for the locals to get the Sunday paper, had a smell of decay and decline, much like the gathered locals; left behind by a busy world.
So by 10.30 we were well on the way to Meeka. We had arranged a meeting at the local RFDS base but the local contact couldn’t make it so that gained us some time, but we stopped here and there in Meek anyway for fuel (diesel 140.9 a litre) and a great feed at the take-away caravan set up opposite the police station. Much of Meeka was closed, the IGA, some of the pubs, the big Centrelink office. The Pool was open and as we ate in an adjacent park we thought it would be great to jump in and wash off the dust and cool down as the temperature was in the thirties. It was not to be and after a short rest we saddled up again for the 184kms to Wiluna.
The road to Wiluna was good but Brock’s bike was not. It had been playing up intermittently over the previous days with an issue that the mechanical genii in the team could not pin point, having looked at ignition, various sensors and then fuel. Brockie had given it a slug of metho in case of water or other impurities in the fuel. The problem seemed heat related; when the temp got over 30 it tended to appear. Today the bike was going fine – but only at a speed that was a bit above the 110 speed limit. It is what it is and the boys just got on with it.
The 184 kilometres to Wiluna gave us a total of around 415 for the day. Wiluna was a very interesting town. It was hard to look around without mixed feelings: some sadness at the plight of people here, some mild anger at apparent waste, concern that systems of government and society had created this. As Rips put it, “it’s sad and depressing to see what was once a vibrant town in such a state; ¾ of the shops are closed and boarded up”. The pub was surreal; it was heavily barred and protected and looked shut. The sign at the front said ‘welcome to paradise’; it was anything but, with cans, rubbish and tumbleweeds strewn around the streets, mixed with a healthy supply of broken down and wrecked cars. In the pub there were three Scottish guys who made up part of the town’s contingent of 9 police officers. They were trying to chat up 4 Japanese girls who were in various stages of six month stints on working visas at the local shop. It was ‘mid-strength day’ at the pub and the coppers and girls were taking opportunity to have a quiet drink as the locals were all out of town at a funeral. The barmaid said that Monday would be busy as the locals would be back and many of them get paid on Monday (and the rest on Thursdays). Around the town there were many vacant blocks with interpretive signs describing the past glories. The population had peaked in the 1930’s at 9000 people. Now it was unknown with people coming and going. As Jill at the Gunbarrel Laager related to us, Wiluna was a place where the indigenous people came as they moved out of the bush and their nomadic lifestyles. That way of life was lost to them and they really became homeless, losing the connections of culture and country – they had lost their home and it had become Wiluna with the associated health and substance issues and inability to adopt or adapt to our European-based society and expectations. We had our XXXX Gold, topped up the Troopy (159c a litre) and shot through.
In the depression, there were one or two pointers to our direction. A modern monument and signage pointed out our way – the Gunbarrel Highway. One of TTT’s heroes and a man whose footsteps and Land Rover we had followed before had finished the Gunbarrel Highway here in Wiluna. We would go back over his lead. We started today as there was no way we were staying in Wiluna. Joc had a lead on the Gunbarrel Laager Travellers Rest about 10 kilometres out of town. We went out there and Jill was our kind host, putting us up for nothing. We swagged on a patch of green grass, used the showers, kitchen and laundry and discussed the days previous and the days ahead. A bit later in the evening we set up a projector and speakers that Scotty had tucked away in the mother ship, linked to Brock’s computer and had an outdoor cinema, playing On The Limit on the outside wall of the dining room as we sat on chairs and the green grass and watched it again. The locals, Brad and David the Belgian Geologist (the muscles from Brussels!) were impressed by our efforts and we thank them for their significant donations (a pineapple each!) On a warm night with the West Australian Flag flying above us on a light breeze we all drifted off to well deserved sleep.
The morning was cooler and a couple of guys were dusty, but all in all we had survived another Stibilj birthday. The intent today was to get moving quickly and push on which we did, breaking camp and leaving before 7.00am. The previous day we had covered around 330 kms but were still 200+ short of our intended target for that day of Meekatharra. We got up and away and then we stopped shortly after and had a look around an old sheep station. We got away from there keen to run and then we stopped and looked at some aboriginal rock art at Walga. So after that we got ripping along and we stopped at the town of Cue which was surprising. Again like Coolgardie there were the signs of days of grandeur past with three pubs close by in the main street and a magnificent old post office. But around the area there were many abandoned mines and the local shop, which was open for the locals to get the Sunday paper, had a smell of decay and decline, much like the gathered locals; left behind by a busy world.
So by 10.30 we were well on the way to Meeka. We had arranged a meeting at the local RFDS base but the local contact couldn’t make it so that gained us some time, but we stopped here and there in Meek anyway for fuel (diesel 140.9 a litre) and a great feed at the take-away caravan set up opposite the police station. Much of Meeka was closed, the IGA, some of the pubs, the big Centrelink office. The Pool was open and as we ate in an adjacent park we thought it would be great to jump in and wash off the dust and cool down as the temperature was in the thirties. It was not to be and after a short rest we saddled up again for the 184kms to Wiluna.
The road to Wiluna was good but Brock’s bike was not. It had been playing up intermittently over the previous days with an issue that the mechanical genii in the team could not pin point, having looked at ignition, various sensors and then fuel. Brockie had given it a slug of metho in case of water or other impurities in the fuel. The problem seemed heat related; when the temp got over 30 it tended to appear. Today the bike was going fine – but only at a speed that was a bit above the 110 speed limit. It is what it is and the boys just got on with it.
The 184 kilometres to Wiluna gave us a total of around 415 for the day. Wiluna was a very interesting town. It was hard to look around without mixed feelings: some sadness at the plight of people here, some mild anger at apparent waste, concern that systems of government and society had created this. As Rips put it, “it’s sad and depressing to see what was once a vibrant town in such a state; ¾ of the shops are closed and boarded up”. The pub was surreal; it was heavily barred and protected and looked shut. The sign at the front said ‘welcome to paradise’; it was anything but, with cans, rubbish and tumbleweeds strewn around the streets, mixed with a healthy supply of broken down and wrecked cars. In the pub there were three Scottish guys who made up part of the town’s contingent of 9 police officers. They were trying to chat up 4 Japanese girls who were in various stages of six month stints on working visas at the local shop. It was ‘mid-strength day’ at the pub and the coppers and girls were taking opportunity to have a quiet drink as the locals were all out of town at a funeral. The barmaid said that Monday would be busy as the locals would be back and many of them get paid on Monday (and the rest on Thursdays). Around the town there were many vacant blocks with interpretive signs describing the past glories. The population had peaked in the 1930’s at 9000 people. Now it was unknown with people coming and going. As Jill at the Gunbarrel Laager related to us, Wiluna was a place where the indigenous people came as they moved out of the bush and their nomadic lifestyles. That way of life was lost to them and they really became homeless, losing the connections of culture and country – they had lost their home and it had become Wiluna with the associated health and substance issues and inability to adopt or adapt to our European-based society and expectations. We had our XXXX Gold, topped up the Troopy (159c a litre) and shot through.
In the depression, there were one or two pointers to our direction. A modern monument and signage pointed out our way – the Gunbarrel Highway. One of TTT’s heroes and a man whose footsteps and Land Rover we had followed before had finished the Gunbarrel Highway here in Wiluna. We would go back over his lead. We started today as there was no way we were staying in Wiluna. Joc had a lead on the Gunbarrel Laager Travellers Rest about 10 kilometres out of town. We went out there and Jill was our kind host, putting us up for nothing. We swagged on a patch of green grass, used the showers, kitchen and laundry and discussed the days previous and the days ahead. A bit later in the evening we set up a projector and speakers that Scotty had tucked away in the mother ship, linked to Brock’s computer and had an outdoor cinema, playing On The Limit on the outside wall of the dining room as we sat on chairs and the green grass and watched it again. The locals, Brad and David the Belgian Geologist (the muscles from Brussels!) were impressed by our efforts and we thank them for their significant donations (a pineapple each!) On a warm night with the West Australian Flag flying above us on a light breeze we all drifted off to well deserved sleep.
