The Long and Winding Road - or was it a River?

I knew things weren't going well when I noticed the car was going sideways and then backwards as we slid our way north through the rain sodden landscape on the road from Pooncarie to Menindee. Luckily we had re-organised the loading of the Honda so that all the heavy gear was low down and the lighter stuff on top - our lower centre of gravity probably preventing us from ending up-side-down in the ditch. And this was just the beginning of the journey!

After meandering slowly through Victoria we were on our way to rendezvous with Johann and Stretch at Broken Hill. Travelling through, and briefly stopping at, the pleasant small country towns of Swan Hill, Mildura and Wentworth – all of which were ports on the Murray River. Wentworth was of particular significance as this is where two of Australia's great iconic rivers – the Murray and the Darling – meet. The Murray – Darling system flows over 3,700 kilometres from Queensland to the sea, much of this was navigable by paddle steamer and was of immense importance in opening up the interior of Australia to pastoral development.

Sandra posing in Wentworth (I think)

Where the Murray meets the Darling

The actual point of confluence

Travelling north we arrived at the small town of Pooncarie which had been one of the ports on the Darling River and which, even to this day, is known as The Port. The Darling River at this point is not very attractive with the water being a strange green/milky colour and flowing very sluggishly. One reason for being in this neck of the woods was to visit the Mungo National Park about 80k from Pooncarie. This visit was excellent with some very interesting exhibits detailing life on remote sheep stations.



Is that a lake I see behind you - it was 17,000 years ago

This is also the site of the oldest evidence of human habitation in the world outwith Africa. Remains of a woman dating back over 40,000 years have been found along with remains of a relatively young man of a mere 30,000 years. The stratification of the local “lunettes” or sand dunes has enabled archaeologists and anthropologists to identify the first human cremations known to have taken place. Mind you, I felt that I was conned as I had been led to believe we were heading to an interesting lake complex. To me lakes mean water and it turned out that Lake Mungo and its associated lakes had actually dried out over 17,000 years ago!

After a second night at Pooncarie we, innocently, set forth for Menindee to the north planning to set up camp for the night then explore the Menindee Lakes – which do have water in them – and thus on to Broken Hill the next day. Things started well – we got a fill of petrol at the local garage and a couple of very acceptable bacon and egg rolls for breakfast, then we were on our way. It was 122 kilometres to Menindee but, within the first few minutes, we discovered that only the first couple of kilometres was on tarmac, then it was onto a dirt road. This was no problem and we bowled along at a good speed for the first 50 kilometres – then we hit problems. It had obviously been raining further north and the road surface to a turn for the worse.

The initial incident was largely my own fault as I was happily going along at about 65kph using cruise control when the vehicle started to slide and I realised I had absolutely no traction. Conventional wisdom in such circumstances is get the foot off the accelerator, steer into the skid to bring the car under control and, in no circumstances touch the brakes. I did all this instinctively but the car seemed to be accelerating into the skid. If I had touched the brakes, even momentarily, the cruise control would have cut out and the situation would not have been so serious. However we were now skidding out of control with the engine full on. Luckily all this registered in a split second and I managed to turn off the cruise control manually using the control on the steering wheel – which was a bit difficult to find as I was spinning the wheel like a dervish trying to control the spin. The car came to a halt, still on its four wheels, although now facing in the opposite direction. From there things just got worse! Thinking that this was an unusually slippery bit of road we headed further north and things seemed back to normal – then the rain hit.



The road was abit damp - and worse that it looked

Within minutes the road was a quagmire and for much of the time I had virtually no control of the car. It my admittedly limited knowledge of dirt roads in Australia there are two types of surfaces – a red sandy surface which seems to drain reasonably well, and a had clay-type surface which, when dry, is hard and good to drive on. However, when this latter gets wet it has a thick, sticky, glutinous texture which clogs up the tread in the tyres, fills up the wheel arches and gets everywhere. Much of the road surface on the 60 or so kilometres was of the latter type and driving was a wee bit challenging – to say the least. After the first couple of hours my arms were aching as I was constantly (and I mean constantly) having to turn the steering wheel from one full lock to the other. Progress was slow and in anything but a straight line – much of the time we were sideways on to the road and yet somehow still going forward but terrified to stop. Our biggest fear was sliding completely off the road and being bogged down. This almost happened on numerous occasions but somehow we managed to keep going.
And then the inevitable happened – the wheels kept spinning but we were going nowhere – we had stopped. Luckily I managed to toggle between reverse and forward (not all that easy in an automatic) and eventually got going again. The only relief we had apart from the occasional bit of red dirt, was the occasional cattle grid which had been tarred for a few metres on either side. We stopped on a number of these, partly for a rest and easing of tension, partly to take the odd photograph and also for a toilet stop – we were almost wetting ourselves it was so hair-raising. The pictures we took were not of the most difficult parts – we didn't dare stop for the frivolity of photos.

Eventually, after four hours we rolled into the small town of Menindee which had a particularly bleak appearance in the rain – we decided not to stay after all, camping there was off the agenda – but to press on another 100k or so to Broken Hill on the tarred road. As we drove past flat, bleak moorland it reminded both Sandra and I of the bleak road crossing Campster Moor in Caithness. I'm sure that if the sun was shining it would have been very pleasant – but it wasn't. The previous day in Mungo National Park the temperature was 37C today it was 13C – a country of great contrasts.

On the tarred road we thought our problems were over but we had more to come – the tarred road was flooded in several places but we managed to make it through.

This was the tarred road - a bit iffy I thought

On arrival in Broken Hill we went to the tourist office to find that many roads, including the one that we had just come along, were closed. We had caused considerable damage to the road and were not cheered by the notice which said anyone caught using the road was liable to a fine and to pay restoration costs. We felt guilty and as soon as we could headed for a car wash!

Where's the car wash?

Camping was a no-no – the streets of Broken Hill were awash with water and camping, even on a commercial site, was likely to be unpleasant – so we booked into a Motel for the night and luxuriated in clean sheets, a double bed and toilet and shower.