Not quite a line in the sand

I had thought Emerald was North of the Tropic of Capricorn, but it is not so.  And it would have been a line in the black soil plains anyway!

As dawn broke, after a damp night (6.5mm of rain at Meadowbank) a family of Pied Butcherbirds appeared.  The young one had gone by the time I took its parents piccie.

The owners of the farm came to chat to people as they packed up, which I thought an excellent idea.  It is a top spot for a camp and they deserve support.

We began the rest of the day by going back into Roma to checkout the cattle sales.  It was somewhere between a blast and a total hoot.  They had over 11,000 head of cattle to sell.  Frances felt a bit sad about them all getting a bullet PDQ, but a report we heard on the ABC suggested that they were going mainly to feedlots (so the bullet was deferred).

Here are the trucks getting cleaned as they reloaded.

 A couple of views over the yards.

 Here are the auctioneer and his team going flat as a maggot.  I couldn't spot what was going on at all.

I found these guys amazing in the way they worked the stock into the pens in which they were needed.  Seeing the horses working 'upstream' through a mob was quite astonishing.

As we walked in I commented to Frances that it would be a good business to have the Toyota dealership for Roma.  Looking at the folk in the action I reckon the white Akubra franchise would also be a nice little earner.

If I was talking as much as those guys did I wouldn't want someone lighting up a cancer stick near me!

 On the subject of prohibitions there was no rule about not having a mutt.  So we took Tammie in.  As she doesn't like perforated steel walkways Frances carried her, but it was still good that no one was at all fussed.  There wasn't a rule about clean boots but there was a lot of poop around and I was amused about these bloke hosing off the footwear on the way out.

 On the way back into the town we saw a display of indigenous artefacts that was quite interesting,  Some modern...

 and some traditional.

 As we left a car pulled up with a couple of mature-age blokes in it, both having red/yellow/black headbands.  It turns out the area in which the display was mounted was an aboriginal burial ground (of unknown precisely, but old, vintage).  The best comment by one of the guys is comment of the day.

We stopped to refuel at Injune. The servo in the main street had no diesel.  We then went to another place which had fuel but a queue of 6.  Unfortunately some of them went in the wrong way so it was chaos, which annoyed me, but as it was 2 hours to the next town had to wit.  I think the woman then charged us the wrong amount (too cheap) but we were outtathere.

Some distance North of Injune we got into limestone and couldn't stop for the best views, but this gives the idea.

The next town was Rolleston memorable mainly for none of the towns named on signs out of town being Emerald, where we were headed.  The Shire (or DMR) has obviously gone troppo.  On consulting a map Springsure was the go. More cliffs: these turn out to be in Minerva Hills NP,

Coal mining is the go around, so big trains are evident.

We are very close to the Tropic, so Bouganvillaea is very evident.

Here is the War Memorial.

I have mentioned that Queensland goes in for "Big" things: here is the Big Van Gogh Sunflowers.

I needed an example of the house style called "Queenslander"and tis was a beautiful (Beaut??) example.

There are lots of insects around.  This moth was elected as subject of the day.

• Bird of the Day: Peaceful Dove.
• Vegetation of the day: Bouganvillaea.  
• Memorable moment:  Roma stockyardsa by a mile..
• Comment of the day: When chatting to the indigenous guys it emerged one of the came from Miles.  When asked how far it was he replied "80km.  Spear chucking distance."
• Troppo moment of the day.  Daft road signs in Rollesrton.k.

Day 1 To Wentworth

This first day is basically a blat of 862km across the Hay Plain to Wentworth.  Hopefully we'll get there early enough for a bit of a look round.

After an early start to the day we left home at 6:50am.  A small dog was esconsed on the usual high pile of bedding for long trips:

We travelled through Canberra, rather than Bungendore, to avoid the macropods.  

On, on past Yass in rather foggy conditions.  This abated after about 200km when we turned off the Hume Highway (which was being heavily haunted by Mr Plod).   Actually, the fog was replaced by showers that happened more or less all the way (another 650km) to Wentworth.  Ho hum: welcome to Winter!

Once off the Hume the amount of water laying around in the paddocks was astonishing.  This was, I think  left overs from the rain in February-March coming down the pipe (aka the Murrumbidgee).  The worst remnant was the trashed fence beside the servo at Narranderra.

Out on the Hay Plain ... 

...  the great surprise was the amount of baled cotton around in the paddocks.  I have always thought these farms grew maize not cotton.  The round bales are apparently a new technology.

We were listening to an interview on Radio National (ABC – the Australian equivalent of NPR)  about Woody Guthrie which was very interesting for 120km – 1 hour, 2/3rds of the distance between Narrandera and Hay!  It was impressive that we could pick up the station – albeit on different channels all the way across.

A bit later we came across a herd of cattle being droved along and across the road.

There were lots of raptors around all the way across the Plain.  Black-shouldered Kites were the commonest (perhaps averaging about 1 per 5km), but Nankeen Kestrels  were also common and Black Kites appeared in kettles of up to 10 birds later in the trip. (There is a more rigorous commentary on this on the last day.)

Before Hay we saw no emus but in the leg towards Balranald we saw quite a lot.  The first was a flock of at least 12 and the later groups included a couple of controversial sightings:  1 on the Northern side of the road and the other on the Southern side, but between the road and the fence.

After Balranald we had a small drama with a rubber seal around the windscreen deciding to migrate.  It was disciplined: hopefully well.  Not so: it required help as detailed in two days time.  About this time the weather started to look a tad average.

On arrival in Wentworth we had a little difficulty getting in to the unit but a touch of controlled violence on the key safe solved that. We then went for a stroll around the town which seems rather pleasant.  


This memorial is to the Grey Fergie.  They are given justified approbation in this town as they were the workhorse in shoring up the levee in an a lajor flood in th past.

 I am unsure what the catfish has done to deserve encapsulation in a seat!

 An Anglican Church.

 The War Memorial.

The school dates from 1881.  I like the post boxes/nest boxes in the front.

I also like this old water tank posing in front of sunset lit clouds.

I noted a plaque about Major Mitchell accompanied by one about the “Dig Tree”.  This seems to have been where he left some doco  about his stouches with indigenous folk in case he ended up not making it back to Sydney.  A small amusement was a bloke charging out of one of the many pubs asking Frances if she had had lunch there today.  It emerged that someone that looked “a bit like you" had done so and left their mobile phone behind. A nice touch.

Getting back to the units I noticed a couple of doggy trailers in the drive.  It turned out they were used by a heap of greyhounds which were inside the unit and keen to discuss matters with Tammy: as we unloaded the car herself escaped and was equally keen to see the 'hounds.  Fortunately we recaptured her before the bloodshed occurred (I don't think she would have won).

The place is generally good, apart from lacking a decent reading light (and we forgot to BYO – which we have known to do for yonks).

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