Blog Index
Across the claypan
My fishing friends were hard to miss in their Unimog. They no longer had the air conditioned galley on the tray of the truck, nor the a...
Limping to Burketown
I pressed the ignition button and listened to the engine turn over sickly. I tried again, watching the readings on my voltmeter plummet...
A milk crate with my name on it
Months ago, when I set out from Sydney, my friend Brad told me that that there was a beer and a 'milk crate with my name on it' waiting...
Fear and loathing in Gregory
I camped up in the bed of the Gregory River sometime after sunset. A group of indigenous locals were camped a little bit upstream and I...
Holy Cow
The road from Winton to Cloncurry streaks North-South through the landscape, straight and flat across plains of dry grass. Another hot,...
Clean hands
After my brief rural idyll, I legged it North for a spot of barra fishing. I knew that my fishing friends were camped somewhere on the ...
Gone Fishing
I stayed at Navarra for a couple of days, helping Andy muster and draft the weaner wethers for sale. The sheep smelled clean and dry an...
The Pursuit of Sheep
The next morning Andy and I delivered the pump to Ray, a station a bit further down the track from Trinidad. They were in the middle of...
Bring Water
Andy’s place is called Navarra. It’s a 60,000 acre sheep and cattle station in the Barcoo, with blue and red hills looming in the dista...
Riding Blind
We left the lights of the pub and headed into blackness. There was no moon, and I was riding in front of the Landcruiser, even though I...
Welcome to Yaraka
According to my map, there is a town called Emmet, and that’s where I needed to turn left for Yaraka.
In reality, there is no town. The...
Go West
I’d arranged to camp that night at a station out past Yaraka, in a fairly remote stretch of south-western Queensland. It was vaguely on...
Meat Ant Park
I was up at daybreak to share a camp fire and some fine espresso with my new fishing friends.
The river water was warm to touch, so the...
Strangers by the River
In the main street, standing beside Beastie in the midday sun. I’m looking for something in my pannier when a white ute pulls up beside...
Like A King
That night in Mitchell was the first night of the trip where I’d needed to zip my sleeping bag all way up and snuggle down; people said...