Bourke

Monday 18^th April. Tuesday 19^th April.

 We were on the road again by 9.00am, and after cresting the first small rise, there in front of us was the road dead straight ahead as far as the eye could see.  We quickly took the speedometer reading, set the cruise control to about 95 kph, and then sat back and watched fascinated, as the kilometres ticked over, and the road just kept on appearing dead straight ahead until it disappeared over the horizon, and then reappearing each time we crested a small rise. 

It was almost like sitting in an aeroplane with the drone of the motor and the gentle rocking of the car.  Finally a bend came in sight, and the speedometer showed we had travelled 53.1 km without turning the steering wheel.  Another record for us, and the third in two days.

It took about an hour to get to COBAR where we fuelled up and had a bite to eat.  From COBAR we would start north on the next stretch of our journey up through the outback of New South Wales and Queensland. After fuelling up we headed for BOURKE, about 160 km away, and our next stop.  More of the same country side and long straight roads. We stopped for a cuppa and lunch about half way along, and rolled into BOURKE at about 2.00 o’clock.

As we came into BOURKE, we saw lots of white fluffy stuff that looked like bits of wool on the sides of the road.  We had also seen what looked like lines of railway carriages away out in the paddocks, with white loads covered with blue tarpaulins.  It took us a while to realise we were looking at cotton on the sides of the roads, and what we could see out in the paddocks was in fact stacks of cotton covered with tarps, waiting to be trucked to the mills.  We found out later that BOURKE was known as one of the main cotton growing centres for Australia, and their harvesting season had just finished.  Unfortunately as we found out later, there were no tours and very little information available about the cotton industry.

After setting up camp we headed to the visitors centre to find out what BOURKE and its surrounding areas had to offer.  We had heard that their ‘Back Of Bourke’ Exhibition Centre was well worth a visit.  It apparently gave an insight to life in the outback. BOURKE has always been regarded as being on the edge of the Australian Outback, and people living in the outback beyond BOURKE were described as living ‘Out the Back Of Bourke’, hence the name of the centre.

Apart from the Back of Bourke centre there was also the Fred Hollows Grave and the Weir built on the Darling River.  Not a lot to get enthusiastic about.  Fred Hollows was a well know Eye Doctor who spent a lot of his time living at BOURKE helping the Aboriginal People, and treating their eye problems.  He also spent time in Nepal and Tibet I think treating the locals for eye problems.  Anyhow he is a local hero and is buried in the BOURKE Cemetery.

We also asked for an update on the road conditions for getting to CAMERON CORNER. The lady told us there was a road from BOURKE to TIBOOBURRA that was open, but was fairly rough and would take about 5 hours.  When we asked about access from THARGOMINDAH and NOCCUNDRA, which was our original intended route, she offered to ring CAMERON CORNER for us.  They told her access from that end was now open, so we left with thoughts that maybe we could still get there.

Having found out everything there was to see and do, we went into town to find the supermarket and have a look around.  One peculiar thing we noticed was that all the cars were angle parked backwards into the curb.  We saw notices instructing that that was the way to park.  Work that one out. 

 

There were quite a few aborigines about, and when we got to the supermarket, found that to buy booze, you had to go into a glass cage arrangement where you could see all the booze for sale and the prices.  After deciding what you wanted, you went to the serving hatch and told the attendant what you wanted.  He then went and got it, took your money, then gave you the booze through the hatch.  Obviously a system they have had to put in place to help curb the alcohol problem among the locals.

Back at camp we cooked tea and planned the following day’s itinerary.  Christel checked the internet and found severe weather warnings in place for sourthern and central/eastern  Queensland with flood warnings for many areas.  From past experience, we knew heavy rain in these areas usually meant flooding on the roads we needed to travel to get to CAMERON CORNER.  It was starting to look less and less likely we would ever get there, and the time had come to look at alternative plans.

Tuesday morning saw us at the ‘Back O Bourke’ Centre.  A very impressive building from the outside, but a very disappointing exhibition on the inside.  We came out not knowing anything more about life in the outback than we did before we went in.  Another Aussie ‘well over advertised’, tourist attraction. Our next planned stop was the cemetery to see the Fred Hollows grave.

The first thing we noticed as we entered the cemetery was signs showing CATHOLIC, ANGLICAN, PRESBYTERIAN, and GENERAL.   Never before seen a Cemetery divided up according to religion.  Didn’t think it mattered that much once you were dead.  We found the Fred Hollows grave, marked by a dirty great rock, and a notice board listing his life history.  Much more interesting for all of us, and especially Cameron, was a small Sand Goanna, which was also visiting the late Fred. 

He was about 60 cm long, and immediately became the focus of Cameron’s burgeoning photographic career.  Adult Sand Goannas can grow up to 1.6 m.

Leaving Fred to continue Resting In Peace, and the young Goanna paying his respects, we headed for the weir, which was just a couple of km out of town down a side road.  As we left town we came across a couple of wild pig carcasses on the side of the road.  This was not surprising as we knew we were in an area where wild pigs were quite numerous, and had been told to be wary of them while driving, especially at night.  A bit further down the road we came to what appeared to be a rubbish tip under a few trees, littered with thousands of bottles, piles of broken glass, smashed shopping trolleys, the remains of old bikes, and scraps of blue tarpaulins, not to mention several more pig carcasses.  It gradually dawned on us that we were in fact looking at a recently abandoned Aboriginal Camp.  Our first insight to how some of them live, and a sad indictment on these people. 

We got down to the weir which was quite spectacular with water pouring over it. 

The river is still running between 10 and 15 feet above normal, and we could see mud and debris showing how high it had got during the January floods.  We saw about a dozen Aboriginal boys playing on the rocks at the edge of the weir, and after watching them for a while realised they were actually fishing for yabbies, by reaching under the rocks and feeling for them, and then pulling them out chucking them up on the bank where their mates would grab them and put them in a bucket.  A couple of older aborigines were a bit further on using hand lines to fish.

The sides of the bank were absolutely covered by literally thousands of dead perch.  We had seen this at other places along the river and wondered what had caused their deaths.  You can imagine the aroma.  We were quite fascinated by the boys’ method of catching yabbies, and went down to watch them and ask about it.  They very enthusiastically showed us their method, and several showed us the scars on their fingers where the yabbies had struck first.  Their buckets were half full of yabbies, averaging in size from 10cm to 15 cm. 

About the same size as the ones Cameron had caught in his net.  No wonder they had scars, those yabbies had huge pincers.  There’s no way we were going to have a go.

After watching the boys for a while, we left Cameron playing with them and went and spoke to the older guys. 

They told us they were fishing for yellow bellies, but all they were catching were perch which they just chucked up on the bank and left. We asked what had killed all the other fish lying about and they told us that during the January floods, some ‘black water’ had come down and killed the fish.  Black water is apparently water with very little oxygen in it, and was obviously not an unusual occurrence during floods.

Leaving the fishermen we returned to town and drove down a side street to have a look around.  It was soon apparent we were in the aborigine part of town. Streets covered with rubbish and houses surrounded by rubbish and bottles.  A general look of destitution and poverty.  That night we were lulled to sleep by the sound of several lots of arguments and shouting coming from somewhere in town.  We had been told to expect this as the Aborigines got stocked up on booze.  We have heard a lot of bad press about the aborigines from the various people we had spoken to, but are determined to keep an open mind about it. Unfortunately, everything we had seen so far has done nothing to help their cause.