Cape York - The Australian Adventure

JAG811

JAG811
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14.06.29
10 years in the making. Four planned trips that never eventuated. The first saw everyone else go as I remained in Cairns … money, or lack there of unravelled the adventure. The other three adventures were given up long before they arrived, with lack of vehicle preparation and failed timing.
For the last 5 months I'd been planning, carefully working away each weekend as the planned trip drew closer. This time I guess I knew. I guess I knew, that this time I was going to get there.
A work bonus helped to finance the preparation of the truck. Well it helped to buy parts and required additions for the truck. Too much 9-5 work had not allowed me to be prepared sooner, and I was now just days away from the planned departure date.
I'd cut down the bull bar, fitted a new steering wheel, replaced oil cooler pipes, made a roof rack, upgraded the lights, fitted the camper and awning, made rear draws that appeared to be rattle free, fitted a duel battery isolator, fitted an inverter, cut down the bumper again to fit 40mm closer to the truck, fitted a winch and re-wired more than I care to think about.
Additionally the truck has had the injector pump overhauled, every suspension bush replaced, transmission seals replaces, clutch replaced, new wheels and a set of new tires.
Five tireless months of 80hr weeks at work and then hours at home on the truck.
I wanted to be more excited. I had been two weeks ago, but that excitement faded quickly as the intended departure date drew closer with so much still to do.
It would be one more day of preparation, and then we were off. Off on an adventure that meant so much more to me than anyone could even hope to understand.

14.06.30
I worked on the truck all day before throwing in the towel and deciding to pack. So I spent the afternoon and evening packing. Best thing was I got excited again. It seemed as though too much work and stressing about getting the truck ready really sucked the excitement right from me. Packing however had me skipping around the garage!!
It was short lived however as I then began to think of everything that could go wrong and for the first time actually felt anxious. That there was so much that could go wrong, carrying such precious cargo, with so much still out of my control.
But isn't that the essence of a true adventure …
I was sure if I could get an early start I might be ready to go by lunch time. But then I got to thinking maybe I should just take one last full day in preparation, get an early start and then shoot as far as I can north on Wednesday. Bypass Laura and Split Rock on Wednesday and stop in on the way home.
I went to bed undecided. Ready to make no plans and head where the road took me. Realising I could be heading off tomorrow I went to bed perplexed. My day had been excitement, squashed with anxiety … 90% packed with just a UHF and a return to centre steering damper to fit to the old girl.

14.07.01
I had a great start to the day. I had finished the oils box that I threw together with old plywood finished before 8am rolled straight onto the return to centre steering dampener. For the record RTC Steering Dampeners are an awesome bit of kit for any truck. I was still optimistic for a 12pm exit, as I came in for food and to give Inca some attention at 9am.
The UHF however was not going to be as easy and as the job progressed time too ticked on. I starting feeling very guilty Inca was just watching TV and I wasn't giving her enough of my time. I had to tell myself to turn off the bad Dad guilt.
I pushed on realising we were not leaving that day. Back to feeling run down and tired and thinking this had to end at some stage. Sadly excitement levels were back to 0.
It wasn't until sunset did I have the UHF and all wiring sorted. Just in time for dinner and a quick test run down to McDonalds for a real coffee and banana bread for dessert, as I'd promised Inca through the day.
At 11pm the truck was packed and looking pretty much set for lift off. Well, all bar one dodgy mud flap.
I did some last minute clothes packing and flopped into bed. It certainly didn't feel like the night before an adventure I'd been waiting on for the last 10 years.
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14.07.02 Cairns to Laura River 310km
I woke up cautious. Like it was “actions on” and I needed to finish the task.
Needed just over an hour to finalise the truck. Pillows, sheets, the kid! And the task, was finished …. Land Rover Defender warming up in the driveway, last minute walk around as I asked myself what I'd forgotten …
Once I was in the car, and the wheels were rolling, I had a smile I just couldn't hold back. And out of town we rolled.
As we headed north out of Mareeba the Land Rover wanted to get up to 100kms/hr and was handling really nicely. Far better than the Jeep JK ever did. I had to be mindful all day of speeding and had to continually drop it back to 95 in an attempt to reduce fuel consumption.
As we continued past Mt Carbine the blue sky was littered with low lying clouds that seemed to just spot the landscape with shadows. It was a really nice part of the drive as the road wound it's self through granite gorges.
We pushed through to Lakeland and Inca would scream “Moo Cows” with excitement every time she saw a herd near the highway. It was really nice just to see her so excited and having so much fun, but actually served as a nice way for me to remain vigilant with no fencing and cattle on the road.
We turned left at Lakeland which meant North West, rather than North East up to Cooktown. I unleashed my Frodo joke where I say as Sam did to Frodo “This is it ….. If I take one more step, it will be the farthest away from home I've ever been”. It was wasted on Inca, who didn't want to play Frodo, didn't know who Frodo was and couldn't draw any parallels to the fact it was the furthest North that I'd adventured. Four year olds rarely see the humour in Dad jokes, but laugh all the same.
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Driving into the afternoon sun and the tableland land like country side just past Lakeland really made me feel for the first time very relaxed. Like I'd finally done it, that an unbelievable adventure lye just beyond the hills on the horizon …. Little did we know that the first day from Cairns would be one of the most memorable of the trip.
I'd read about Split Rock, 10kms South of Laura and had marked it as a key interest point and Laura as our first nights camp. I just wasn't sure if we would visit the galleries during the day before rolling into camp, or if we'd pop back out the next morning, before heading north for day two.
But as Laura approached the lowering sun was lighting up the surrounding rocky outcrops red and I was in total awe of the country we were passing through. Then a Split Rock car park sign appeared and the temptation was too great. Even with limited time to see the galleries and then find camp I was drawn in to have a look.
I hurried Inca from the car knowing it would be a fair hike up an incline to see the galleries. I also knew I would be playing “Let's carry the little girl” on this incline but I was just so happy to be there I didn't notice how heavy I was breathing until Inca asked if I was hot because I was panting.
Fifteen minutes of incline and you could sense something special was around the corner. And I have to say, neither words nor images could ever do that experience justice. With just my daughter staring in amazement, a cold afternoon breeze whistling through the trees and the setting sun lighting up the surrounding landscape in red … I would argue the gallery speaks to you … you just need to listen. We spent 20 to 30 minutes at that very special place, before a setting sun called us away.
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Out of respect to the Laura community and its people past, present and future I cannot show any pictures. I've attached a link to the Quinkan and Regional Cultural Centre believing the more support the centre gets the more the people will be able to share their culture and stories so that their past and future are secured for many more years to come.
http://www.quinkancc.com.au/rock-art-sites-tours
Crossing the Laura River I decided to turn the old girl around and look for a spot to pull up in the river. Once down in the river I noticed four other parties had the same idea but there was more than enough room for everyone.
We camped a 100m or so down-stream from the other parties and I was soon cooking in the dark. I knew Inca could stare at a fire all night and so a quick fire was started too and before long she was fed, washed and asleep in the camper up top.
Fire was burning out. It was cold, but I felt free.
Day one, done and dusted.
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JAG811

JAG811
14.07.03 Laura River to Archer River 313km
We were the last to leave the Laura River with all four of the other camps heading off before us. I get the feeling the last camp may have been waiting to see if we could get out, as courtesy however once the engine was running and I was warming up the Defender they rolled off.
We rolled out 10 minutes later at around 10:30am. A late finish the day before had of course rippled into a late night time routine and a later start that morning.
I was excited to hit the road feeling as though this was all on my terms now, and we could take our time wondering up to the top. Little did I know that day, or rather the second day from Cairns would be one of the most enduring of the trip.
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Past Laura the road turned to dirt. It was good going at first although we had to dodge some glass beer bottles that had either fallen out or had been thrown out. The truck wanted to sit on 100kms/hr again. I was so focused on the corrugations and pot holes, I lost track of the speedo on countless occasions.
Then we got to see two emus pluck up the courage to run across the road in front of us. I spotted the first before they crossed and screamed at Inca EMUS !!!! She was delighted to see them.
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We pulled into Musgrave Station and had a big feed. We spent almost an hour there for photos, food and fuel. As we drove out a bunch of other trucks jumped in front and dusted us for the next 2 hours through to Coen. They sat on 75-80 which was incredibly testing of my patience, as I couldn’t pass them given there were four trucks and the dust storm that’s kicked up in their wake. Then every time we’d hit the bitumen patches they’d speed off at 115 and the old Defender fully loaded just didn’t have the same pull.
Musgrave to Coen was the worst road of the whole trip.
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Coen to Archer River appeared to be very smooth and remained that way for most of the stretch with little spots of pothole chaos in sections between bitumen. In saying that, the road again got pretty bad towards the end.
We pulled up stumps at around 5pm at Archer River. As we pulled into the Roadhouse entry Inca wanted to look at the river. We rolled down there to see kids and families playing in the shallow clear water and so Inca asked if we could camp there and I couldn’t say no. I had intended to stay at the Roadhouse although once I pulled up the river looked too good to pass up. That and the camp grounds at the roadhouse looked packed.
There was an upside down Toyota Cruiser V8 ute in the creek bed just 20m away from our camp. I later found out on the return journey that a local had tried to cross the river in flood after having a few drinks. Unfortunately his journey ended there with the flooded river that night. A stark reminder as adventurers we must always respect the situations we approach.
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All in all a long, tiring day navigating the corrugations … although I’d prefer that any day over a day at work  Day two done, and with any luck, I’d be camped up somewhere on the infamous Telly Track the next afternoon.
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JAG811

JAG811
14.07.04 Archer River to the Dulhunty River 195km
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Wow .. What a day, day three was!! Even after getting up at 6:30 we still weren't on the road until 9am. We made it in front of a couple of campers but we were overtaken as we pulled over to check out the Telegraph Track sign. Then it was 72km of eating dust again until we all pulled into Moreton Telegraph Station.
There was plenty to look at in regards to photos of historical nature and photos depicting the challenges and struggles of life in such a remote location. I was able to buy a cooler to add to my travel collection, but I couldn't help feeling if I'd not have already read the stories and information on Moreton Telegraph Stations significance I'd have just passed it as another working station that was now accommodating for the tourism with camp grounds and toilet blocks.
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As we left the pair of campers jumped in front as we all headed off so I tried to reach them on the UHF but couldn't. I was forced to uncomfortably overtake them on the dusty road. Headlights were an absolute must, and I still feel some common sense and courtesy is often over seen.
Punching up the Peninsula Development Road Bramwell Junction jumped out at us. Another bustling roadhouse in the middle of nowhere and it was instantly clear this was different. Trucks were mustering here and it was clear to see preparations and group discussions but above all plenty of people with purpose.
I rolled over to where the Telegraph Track signs were pointing and saw three trucks gathering for a photo under a sign. An open paddock of dead grass and excitement tapered into a very tight two wheel track into the bush. “Let's do this” I said to Inca in my best Captain Barnacles voice over the chattering UHF.
It was tight and speeds were dropped instantly to around 10km/hr as the track instantly began to test the Defenders articulation. And of course it wasn't long before the first crossing made it's way to us. The UHF was alive with all sorts of chatter again. As the track opened up we were greeted to a parking lot of empty trucks. We pulled into a shady spot and I got Inca out. I took one look at the entry and knew we were at Palm Creek. Steepest incline of any crossing on the track with two shelves.
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There were over a dozen people in the creek watching and talking with kids swimming and families eating lunch. I was at first confused by the carnival style atmosphere but was never the less right at home. Everyone offering advice, asking questions and sharing stories. It would be the same at each major crossing for the rest of the Telly Track.
The entry looked fender dangerous and I'd seen videos of so many trucks scrape their way down. I watched a 200 series Cruiser scrape all of the beautifully colour matched bull bar and side protection. Definite metal carnage rubbing and clunking it's way down. It was however the 8m muddy river bank incline out that I took one look at and asked - “Where's the chicken track”? He said “No that's the way out there”. I just so naturally asked, “Yeah but where's the chicken track”? With a smile he said “There is no chicken track”.
The drop in looked easy. Well it didn't look too technical and I felt I'd dropped into worse. Keep it off both sides and stay as centred as possible. I walked the creek bottom and it was actually really hard. The mud pit on the bottom of the 8m muddy incline was the problem. The bottom was hard in places soft in others but again you had to ease in, stay centre and try to punch out and up the hill.
There was a bloke at the top who was snatching/towing out stuck vehicles anyway. So I headed back to air out the tires and get this on. Only one truck had made it during the time that particular crowd had been gathered.
Airing out the tires a gentleman passed me and suggested he was next. I said “No worries mate” and he rolled his Pajero and camper trailer past. I didn't see him go as I aired down and pulled out the strap and two D-shackles so as not to slow proceedings if stuck on the other side.
One shackle dropped out of the snatch strap and near broke my foot. Why must Aussies where thongs !!! Lesson learnt as I hopped into the car like I was playing hopscotch.
So we dropped in fine as anything loose in the cab flew into the front. It was a near vertical drop in. Perfect for an instant adrenaline rush to throw you off the rest of the crossing! In the creek bed I must have looked comfortable or made light work of the entry as everyone was backing old Sally to be the second truck up for the day. I eased in and punched it but couldn't get up. So I had a couple more goes and try as I might, I held the brakes and sat old Sally up as high up the bank as I could so we could be snatched out.
Great news was no ego damage as I was so overwhelmed by the carnival like atmosphere I was just stuck in the experience.
I was snatched out by a gentleman named Jason, who was travelling with the Pajero owner that had crossed before me. I asked if I could tag along behind them, just to make sure I made it. They were great and we started jabbering over the UHF.
I soon noticed the steering wheel on a 90 degree angle with the car pointing straight. I knew straight away what it was – Some sort of bent steering rod. I immediately remembered every decked out Defender I'd ever seen in photos has a protection plate bolted underneath. Now I know why … I also remembered Jason commenting on some log that they'd seen jammed in there when they hooked up the snatch.
A creek crossing appeared but I had no visuals on anyone in front of me and there was no UHF talk of any crossing so I rushed into the creek and realised it was Ducie Creek. Long and moderately deep I knew it was about 15m to cross. The water was up to the bonnet and I had to keep the revs up to power through so much water. It all happened so fast but I could clearly see a current on the surface approaching that I assumed was the body of the creek and had enough time to accelerate as the nose dropped in and the bonnet was totally submerged for a metre or two. The track straight out was too tough for the camper in front of me not to still be stuck on so I took a punt the track veered right and accelerated out of the creek. It did and we punched it up the creek bank and out of trouble like the star ship Enterprise pulling free of some galactic implosion.
Continuing on I heard a loud dinging from the underside of the truck coupled with the steering it was all starting to look real bad. The suspension felt like all was operating fine so I was curious as to what was loose to make the noise. I pulled over but could find anything. I assumed it was the winch roller and I thought I'd check it out at camp.
Tagging behind Jason and Terry we pulled over for lunch and Inca and I got to meet everyone. A great bunch of people.
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We pushed on through to the Dulhunty and set up camp. Inca got to draw and play with Jason's girls while me and the boys played with some winches. It took two winches to pull out the bent steering arm. With the truck parked over a log and my winch doubled back under the log pulling the arm down and Terry's winch puling the arm straight out we were close enough to straight. It was a great effort but I'd not truly know if safe enough or not, until I was back on the main roads at higher speeds.
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With Emus running past the camp and a really nice afternoon swim we met Jason and Jess and their three kids Bradley, Jazmin and Faith. Accompanying them on their journey from Tawoomba was Terry and Cassy. They were all lovely people and Inca got to spend an afternoon around two other little girls which was as welcome escape from Dad I think. We set up a little theatre with the camp chairs and portable DVD and together they all watched a princess movie before bed. Terry coined it the Telly Track Cinemas.
 

JAG811

JAG811
14.07.05 Dulhunty River to Canal Creek 54kms

It was a late start to day four. I crawled down the ladder of the rooftop camper at 7:30am after sleeping through the alarm. Inca was dead to the world and everyone else was sleeping in too. I heard the watch go off but had decided on a little longer. I got cracking and was making good time while Inca got to play with the other kids. A solo set up and pack up means you're usually the last truck to crank an engine each morning. The emus were back, and still swear one of them made a dash for Terry and Cassy's Pajero. I raced around, sure that I was going to see this 1.5m tall bird jumping behind the wheel trying to make a quick get away with their Pajy.
Now rolling with two other trucks we all steamed through the Dulhuty and on to Bertie Creek. Still a technical challenge but not the most difficult of crossings. Parts of the track were very corrugated but I wouldn't say rough. The Defender took it all easy however after an inspection the night before it was clear a broken shock cover was rattling around. It was like trying to drive with a cow bell strapped to the front of the car. I did get a smile however driving Queensland's most formidable four wheel driving adventure where 90% of vehicles were Toyota Cruisers or Nissan Patrols, and I got to play the cheeky Land Rover Defender driver.
On our way to Gunshot, the crossing with all the character, we wound out onto a nice open flat savannah. I really liked this style of country and wanted to get out to take a photo. The going was slow as the track was tight, but clearly cut into the very sandy savannah by about a meter or so. So even though the surrounding shrubs were all only a meter or so tall themselves, they still stood as tall as the trucks passing though. It was a lovely reminder to make sure your looking out the window. That the Telegraph Track is filled with some of the most wondrous backdrops that are too easy to miss if you're swept away by the challenges the track presents.
Travel came to a halt and the track was blocked up 10 cars deep. Gunshot…. Inca and I had to walk near 100m just to get to the crossing. It was a maze of tracks and passes. We found the original Gunshot that had been dug out on purpose to represent a straight vertical drop. I had to get a photo of Inca on top.
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All traffic however was moving through 30 meters away, where a V8 Cruiser Ute was perched on a high spot in the mud. They were snatching almost every second truck dropping into the crossing. If I thought Palm Creek was a carnival, then this was Disney Land. With trucks banked up each side of the creek and at least 20-30 people in the crossing, watching, sharing stories, taking photos and enjoying the atmosphere.
It was another near vertical drop into a mud pit (not as big as Palm Creek but more slippery). It was having to very slowly, drop in, that was simply standing up approaching trucks on their bull-bars. Therefor nose standing their trucks they needed to be pulled down. They were then however in the middle of a 10 meter long mud pit that they needed momentum or approach speed for. Once through that, it was a very simple shallow creek crossing with a moderate muddy river bank climb out, that was still challenging most trucks to have two to three goes.
Jason was keen to get in there and I suspected got pretty excited at each crossing. Terry walked out his lines (suitable for the trailer) and we jumped to the front of the line. Jason's extended chassis Cruiser pushed through easily with the lift and tires earning lots of Toyota cheers and smiles, however it would be much more difficult for Terry and Cassy in the IFS Pajero towing a rather large camper trailer. Terry eased down and nosed the Pajy into the hard base under the mud, but the weight of the trailer just pushed the Pajero into the mud. Once in the mud Terry punched through and the trailer skidded along for the ride. What impressed me the most was the Pajero didn't sink at all with the BFG All Terrains. She stayed on top and silenced the crowd that were clearly expecting a snatch out.
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I had lost all confidence in Sally after being snatched up the Palm exit and I wasn't confident in the truck. The jokes across the UHF were coming thick and fast from the Toyota drivers and I was happy for the banter. I quickly aired down a few more PSI to 23PSI front and 26PPSI rear after she'd failed to climb out of Palm. I knew she was still really heavy in the back and would have loved to air down more.
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Defenders however have a wicked approach angle and again she made simple work of the drop in. Once down I punched low 2nd and she absolutely ate it, the Goodyear muddies roosting the crowd who again had some blank faces. Jason had watched and walked over in amazement to say “That just aced Gunshot”. I had to park up before crossing the creek with a bit of banked up traffic. I crossed the creek and punched it up the bank on the other side, again throwing roosts 3 meters into the air. “Too easy” I said as we shot out the top - confidence in Sally restored !!
We had lunch on the northern bank and got to watch all of the following cars come through. Only one in every three made it through without being assisted so as a party, we did pretty well. A party of 5 trucks with 3 Defers rolled past so I got to have a “Defer” yarn for a little bit. I also stuck my head under to look at the factory bar now bolted onto the front of new Puma Defenders to protect the steering arms.
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Pushing on we ran into the Defers again at Cockatoo Creek. Salt water, but a beautiful spot. There were 10 – 15 people camped up on the northern back, sitting in camp chairs watching the show. It was a really technical crossing that just needed a good line and a steady hand. Sally walked across really easily after the other Defers hooked up. I assume mostly due to stock configurations.
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It was a big day with lots of intense driving. We agreed to finish up for the day as we drew close to Canal Creek.
We pulled up on the north side of Canal Creek and set up for the night. Sunset with a swim in the cleanest water on the Telly Track. Tent was out and dinner served in record time with two minute Gnocchi, some red sauce and mince. Inca coloured in with Jazmin and after dinner I got to talking with Terry and Cassy. Sharing stories we quickly realised we all worked in the Mental Health field. It was a really nice evening and lovely conversation. Just another perk to the adventure really – Meeting some nice people, and sharing good conversation under a cold starry night.
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mph

Expedition Leader
Great photos of u and your daughter!!! Memories....good for u!

Thanks for sharing!
 

JAG811

JAG811
Thanks for sharing...It has been a long time since I was there..awesome trip!

Cheers :)

Great photos of u and your daughter!!! Memories....good for u!

Thanks for sharing!

Thanks - I really want her to pursue an adventurous heart, fear nothing and travel. I guess I thought a Cape Adventure, was just the recipe to instil these traits ?? She's not stopped talking about it since, and keeps asking me about our next adventure :)
 

JAG811

JAG811
14.07.06 Canal Creek to Sam's Creek (I gave my map to someone - will have to return and edit)
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Given the adventurous day we'd all had the day before it was decided by Jason and Jess, Terry and Cassy to take a day to slow down. So the plan for day five was for a much shorter day and a few hours spent with the kids at Twin Elliot Falls.
In order to get the roof-top tent level with limited real-estate, I'd had to perch old Sally up somewhat onto the side of a hill the afternoon before. So Inca woke up with a view, feeling like a princess shouting down from a tower.
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Ready to roll by 9:30am I decided to roll over to a hard rock crossing on Canal Creek where I could look at the shock cover bouncing around. I'd put some thought into it, but hadn't yet come up with a solution. My worry was whether or not it would bounce into the springs while traveling at the higher speeds when back on the PDR.
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Bucket out, and a wash down. Inspection proved it actually looked pretty safe, that it wasn't going to foul on any other suspension component. There was NO WAY I was pulling the shock tower out worried I'd snap the 13mm bolts on the retainer rings. For anyone familiar with Rovers you may have snapped a few in your time…. Terry and Cassy seemed interested in observing my bush mechanic skills but I suggested I'd take a while and pop down to the falls once I was done, and so they pushed on.
So I lifted the cover up an inch or two and gaffer taped that SOB into next week. “Round and round, between the spring we go” until it actually held it pretty tight and obviously took out almost all noise. Snapped out a quick photo and off we went.
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The falls were amazing! We made our way down one side as most travellers do, and then ended up at the second falls on the other side for a swim. So Twin Elliot Falls comprises of two separate water falls that are only 50 meters apart. They then run straight into each other.
I suspect many a weary traveller would have fallen in love with this little spot. The clear water seemingly washed us clean of days of red dust and travel. With some splashing and fun and a steady line of travellers passing through you quickly forget that you're literally in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by rough and hazardous country that had been so unforgiving to the pioneers and settlers that had carved this route through to the top.
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I couldn't help but ask myself, with all of the modern vehicle comforts and air-conditioning how many people actually even resented getting out to check the depth of a creek crossing. I couldn't help but feel that Twin Elliot's heavenly beauty may have been down graded as the years have passed by - to just a great place to swim.
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We had some lunch at a dusty dirty picnic area and headed off to get some driving in. To Nolan's Brook, or not to Nolan's Brook for that, was thy question.
Leaving Twin Elliot Falls I spoke with a Land Rover Defender 130 owner. We said hello although we were entitled to greet each other with the secret Defer hand shake, we decided not to given the public setting. He suggesting Nolan's Brook was pretty easy, if you walked it first and stuck to the right hand side. He suggested the water would only come half way up the doors.
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So off we went and ended up at Sam's Creek. We set up camp but after getting some nice Inca time at Twin Elliot I decided to spend the afternoon down the creek. So we wondered down to watch all of the trucks push through Sam's creek. One by one they all rolled through waving and sharing stories, all very excited to be there.
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As the sun went down Jason dragged some firewood back to camp, I think just to please Bradley who was dying for a fire. Fire started, and out came the axe. We needed to cut up some hard wood. Now I'm pretty sure, and I don't know why, but as soon as an axe comes out, so does the fun and crazy talk. Something to do with the human brain .. I'm just not sure what :)
So I got chopping and out came the camp stories, laughing and a few beverages. I had been rewarded with a JD that was chilled to perfection and before we knew it we'd busted out some bush scones in the camp oven. By this stage we were the last camp still up and clearly we were way too loud. I felt obliged to let go of some secret camp oven tips and I'm hoping Terry and Cassy are enjoying the benefits. A very fun night, and a great end to really nice day.
 
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JAG811

JAG811
14.07.07 Sam's Creek to Punsand Bay (Will edit distance travelled later)
Day six, and I was ready for a challenge. Inca and I left Terry and Cassy behind at Sam's Creek to travel with Jason, Jess and the kids along the rest of the Old Telegraph Track. Terry and Cassy had second battery issues and were going to stay back for a couple of reasons. The first to continue to charge up the batteries with the generator to keep the fridges cold and the second to avoid watching the beautiful camper be dragged through Nolan's Brook like a submarine. So they had planned to avoid the last and most challenging part of the Telly Track and meet us at the Jardine Ferry. Inca and I would follow Jason, Jess and the kids along the rest of Telly Track to concur Nolan's Brook before heading back out to the Peninsula Development Road and onto the top. I had at this stage planned to boost it up to Punsand Bay once on the other side of the Jardine, but the other parties were keen to settle in at Seisia. So day six would be a sad day where our paths would draw apart, and our own adventures would continue. We waved goodbye to Terry and Cassy reassured by a confident Terry who said they'd be waiting at the Jardine, and if we didn't make it out, then they were unhooking the trailer and steaming back in to dig us out. Or rather fish us out, from Nolan's Brooke :)
Only 15 minutes from Sam's Creek, the road out to the PDR was a clear junction and a great spot for a quick photo. With the iconic old telegraph pole standing tall there's room there for a group photo. So Inca was again dragged out for quick photo.
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The rest of the Telly track was slow going. It was pretty tough although taking it nice and slow still kept things very enjoyable. A lot of rock on the road made it a bit of a technical challenge and old Sally was forced to stretch out, frequently maxing out the articulation. Knowing the Old Telegraph Track was drawing to an end my mind began to measure up other tracks or trails. Was this the hardest track I'd ever driven? Given the remoteness of the track and the real dangers a breakdown would cause. Taking into consideration the duration of the drive being it was now day six. With the continual creek crossings, some of which were alarmingly deep. And finally, considering the technical challenges that continually jump out in front of you as you try to make good speed .... Yes, this was in fact the hardest track or trail, I had ever had the privilege to drive.
After a few more creek crossings we found the Cypress Creek log bridge. I'd forgotten all about it and was a little chuffed to see it in front of me. As an experienced four wheel driver I'm not short of confidence, but like so many hands that the Old Telegraph Track had dealt me on that adventure, once I was on it - I was navigating my own fear as well as the bridge.
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There were some really beautiful creeks to cross that day but I can honestly say tension continued to grow knowing Nolan's was drawing nearer with each creek we crossed. Then driving came to a halt again. Could it be ?? A call came across the radio, “Last one before Nolan's bloke”. So Inca and I got out to investigate. There was a party in front of us with some really nice trucks. They were pretty worried about a Hilux that was simply lower than all of the other trucks and up there, crossing creeks that deep – Bigger is better. The bigger the lift and the bigger the tires means less difficulty fording the creeks.
It was long, about 20 to 25 meters to cross. And it was deep, about hip height before you even hit the creek where the water was flowing through. The bigger trucks of their party pushed through and I have to say the Hilux nailed it by picking a great line and stayed really high close to the left hand side before pushing across the flowing part of the creek.
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Jason pushed through on the line the heavily lifted Patrol had taken, and he too made light work of the crossing. I was pretty confident and unstrapped Inca's seatbelt as I'd done with all of the deep crossings. Yeah, I WAS confident, until the bonnet went straight under.
After dropping in it was quickly evident this hole was deep. It shortened up the longer you pushed through however the water was well over the bonnet and I had the revs way too low. Sally did push through however but not before a panic attack from me as the seconds it took to push through seemed to take hours. Inca was complaining there was water rushing in and so I jumped out to get all of the doors open as quickly as I could. It was pretty funny and I had a laugh, but it soon stopped as I started to contemplate the final challenge the Telly Track had install for me. I'd already heard stories of Nolan's laying waste to two trucks just in the time we'd been traveling to the top. I'd had water over the bonnet of the JK on many occasion and it had never leaked a drop …
One more shallow crossing and then the last of a familiar story. Trucks banked up 4 deep on a tight track. I didn't need to ask. We were there. Nolan's Brook, she rights off at least 5-10 trucks each season. She's just too deep and I do believe the old Nissan Navaras may just be prone to failure in the deep crossings because of all the stories I'd heard, most were of Nissan Navaras. I couldn't work out why Jason had refused to walk a single crossing, but later found out there may have been a fear of things lurking beneath the surface. And rightfully so – Two weeks after returning there's reports and A PHOTO of a Freshy (Crocodile) swimming around THAT crossing at night.
I walked it a number of times and made the mistake of picking the shallower, right hand side, as I'd assumed my Land Rover friend had referred to the day earlier. For reference of depth I'm a lanky 5'10”. The guy in the photo is about an inch shorter than me. I made up my mind and set up the snatch strap to a shackle ready to go straight onto a waiting truck on the other side of the crossing.
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As I approached one of the guys from the group before held up a doubled up snatch but I declined politely. I instead asked if he could be on the ready in case I couldn't get through.
I dropped in and began to push through but the motor instantly bogged down. “I was given her all she's got Captain, but she'd canny take it any longer”. We crossed the deepest part which was also where the main current of the stream was pushing into the truck. I was enough to stall the momentum and she bogged into a soft bottom. And water, began to flow in like a ship sinking to her grave.
Lucky the old TDI only has electronics to power the headlights. A mechanical diesel and a 20 year old truck meant no sparky sparky even with the foot wells filling up. It was the back of the truck that was still pretty deep as I'd managed to push the front half up into shallower water. Inca shouted “Daddy Daddy there's water coming in” in pure excitement. Before I knew it a gentleman had hooked me up and out we were pulled out. I opened the doors and water literally rushed out.
It was a great atmosphere with everyone helping and lending a hand. All sharing stories and deliberately attempting to help drivers like myself laugh it off, rather than worry about a truck filled with water over an angry red face. But once on the other side of that creek, it's a celebration. Everyone is celebrating in their own little way. For once you're on the other side of Nolan's Brook, you've survived the Old Telegraph Track.
I waited in the North exit for the first truck of the next party. Waiting to help the next driver, as I'd been helped. I can honestly say I learnt more at that crossing then I'd learned in all of my four wheel driving experience to date.
We had some lunch and helped a couple other parties to get through, as we too had been helped. It was all over for the Old Telly Track. Focus now had turned to the tip. To the very top.
As we drove out Jason let me know on the UHF they were going to have a look at the Old Jardine Crossing, and that they'd probably camp there for the night. They were undecided, so I let them know I'd continue to catch Terry and Cassy at the ferry and let them know.
So I drove out with another bunch of nice people who were driving some heavily modified trucks. It turned out a number of the drivers worked for ARB which explained why the trucks looked like they were out of an ARB brochure.
Back onto the PDR and I was keen to see if the Defender would handle the speeds again but she seemed to manage 90kms an hour ok. There were clearly some suspension issues because it didn't feel as responsive to the corrugation as the first three days of the trip had felt.
The Jardine Ferry appeared, and so too a smiling Terry and Cassy. It was good to see them and I explained Jason and Jess's situation. So Terry and Cassy decided they'd push up to Punsand Bay with Inca and I, and leave a note for Jason and Jess at the Ferry. I hadn't even realised how much of a common practice this was until they'd done so. Apparently many people leave notes for each other at the ferry as everyone HAS to pass through that point.
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Once on the other side of the Jardine Terry and Cassy boosted through to Bamaga so as to find a battery to replace the shot one before everything shut at 5pm. We weren't even sure we'd locate one in such a remote place, but assumed with the number of travellers that pass through, some enterprising chap would no doubt have an exuberant price tag on a battery somewhere.
After failing to reach coms with Terry and Cassy once in Bamaga, Inca and I decided to head up to Punsand Bay believing we'd find them there. Little did we know Terry and Cassy were on a search and rescue mission doubling back in a loop fearing we'd headed out to the airport. So Inca and I approached Punsand Bay on sunset, and I instantly realised when looking at the hills and bay under a Cape York sunset this was the last big beach before the top. We'd made it. It was an excited, yet comfortable feeling as we made our way down to the park. I knew a cold beer and counter meal was waiting for me.
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When we arrived the office was closed so I pulled the weary Dad holding the dusty raggedy daughter looking for a place to stay, and OF COURSE they opened the doors for me. As had been the story of the whole trip they instantly fell in love with Inca and we were organised a campsite. I was hoping they could direct me to Terry and Cassy but they unfortunately couldn't recognise the name. They organised dinner for us straight away so it was ready when we returned after setting up camp and had enjoyed a hot shower. The place was literally a jewel in a dessert.
Jumping in the truck to find the allocated lot I gave one last try .. “Terry and Cassy, you on channel”?
“YES We thought we'd lost you”! They were 10 minutes behind me and so I jumped back out to get another lot booked for them too.
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Bourbon and wood fired pizza. New friends and sense of overwhelming achievement. Inca was dancing and playing, and I enjoyed a BAR and some great conversation! All in the middle of nowhere. Just 50 odd km's from the top of Australia. Looking back, it all seems a little surreal, but at the time we were so caught up in the moment, it was just a sense of relief and comfort. Like we could relax. The work was done, and tomorrow, tomorrow ... we'd be standing on the tip of Australia.
 

JAG811

JAG811
14.07.08 Punsand Bay to the Top … Cape York
We were all up late, and no one cared. Inca slept in and I got some time to look at photos and generally relax with some quiet time to reflect. I made up my mind we’d spend the day doing whatever Inca wanted to do, knowing there was a high chance she’d want to swim in the pool all day. That we’d then slip up to the top for sunset.
I’d spent the later part of my life with a mantra that I tried to live by. I guess it aligns it’s self with the old carpe diem line. But it doesn’t mean to me that you have to jump out of a plane, or rush out try something before you die. I guess I meant the opposite. To slow down and take the time to catch the sunset, look into people’s eyes, not their faces and remember you don’t get another go at today. Once today is over, you can’t get it back again. So I guess that’s why you’ll notice a lot of sunset photos. I guess it's about taking a couple minutes every day to enjoy each, and every day.
I let Terry and Cassy know our intension and for the first time that I’d seen, they were really happy not to make any plans. I was pretty sure they were just happy to enjoy every moment of that day without committing to a single thing.
So we spent the day talking, swimming and playing. Inca swam all day which meant I too, swam all day. Inca was beside herself and it was really nice to see her so happy. In and out of the pool all day until I thought it best to head back and prepare for sunset.
It was a cloudy afternoon and so the light was deceiving and I thought it was a lot later than it was. We made our way out of Punsand Bay, we passed the famous Croc Tent and slowly made our way up to the top. The track tightened up and became a really nice track though some rainforest.
Then the strangest thing. Beside the road were these abandoned villas. They all appeared to be relatively new but left to rot. I assumed if you were on a boys trip there would be no better shelter to find. Sweep them out, and roll out your swag. I couldn’t work out why these dozen or so double villas were just wasting in the rainforest.
And then within 500 meters three trucks were parked at the end of the road. A beach head. Three trucks and no sign of anyone, or where they'd gone. Inca was asleep so I got out and looked around. There were tracks leading onto the beach and a long rocky ridge running out to the right. It must have been the last of the massive beach the formed Punsand Bay on the left. So the rocky ridge had to be the tip.
I was really confused. I was in thongs and a singlet and had planned for a 30-40 metre walk … I’d seen plenty of photos, but all of the tip. All of the actual sign and what must have been the last 30-40 metres of land in Australia. The ridge looked like about a kilometre and a half of rock, and to make it worse, it looked high. Like 100m high. I was still shaking my head as I woke up Inca and prepared some cold cloths for her. I was still in thongs and a singlet, and light was fading fast. I grabbed a torch and the normal camera gear. Threw the kid on the shoulder and started looking for a track somewhere …
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I figured we had to climb, it had to be the only way and I pushed up the hill. Within 100 meters or so it was apparent there was a track and we were on it. So confidence and spirits were lifting. Then we reached a knoll. I could see the whole of the Cape York. I could also see two more knolls descending down to what must have been the tip of Australia.
I was mindful to take my time and enjoy the moment, however I couldn’t contain my excitement. There was a skip in my step and even Inca was getting excited. With each knoll we descended to, there were better views. And then, I could see a sign … It was clear. Only 50 meters to go.
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The coast line had already opened up, but now it was much more of an intimate feeling. We passed a group leaving who must have been the three trucks parked at the beach head. And there we were …. Just a Dad and his daughter … Standing at the tip of the Australian continent.
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It had taken 10 years to unfold. Six months to plan, and weeks and weeks of work on the truck. Seven days to drive there. The ups and downs, excitement and heartbreak of an adventure like no other, that had all culminated right there with that special moment.
Now I’m a firm believer it’s not about the destination, it’s about journey. Yet even with all of the twists and turns, new friends and experiences, lessons and challenges … that destination! was just as amazing as the journey itself. There's just something about standing there, on that piece of rock. That piece of Australia.
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We spent some time talking at the tip. It was a pretty special moment and then we climbed back up to the last knoll to watch the sunset. I was treated to at least 2 minutes of ******** chat while the last few rays of sun reaching through the cloud covered horizon warmed us against the gentle evening breeze. Inca was sure the Octonauts were just in the waters in front of us. She was really excited to see the light house and watched the boats pass through at great distance.
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I didn’t want it to end, but with dusk approaching I had to make a move. We packed up and turned back for one last look. As we scanned out to sea the sun dropped out of the clouds in a last ditch run for the horizon. Like one last surprise, the event had been waiting to show us. So I set up the stand again, set a delayed timer, and carried Inca over to watch in silence the last moments of the day.
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“Bubba … Can you promise me one thing … Can you do that”?
She paused before saying “What”?
“Can you promise me, that you’ll never lose your sense of adventure” …
With a longer pause she replied “Ok Daddy, I promise” ….
And the sun disappeared behind the horizon lighting up the clouds in orange.
Back at Punsand Bay we were soon sitting with Terry and Cassy for some real celebrations! Inca was bouncing off my happiness and Terry and Cassy were buzzing too in a way that only a day in the middle of paradise can do to you. There was stories, dancing, good food and drink. One of the most memorable nights of the trip, and one of the most memorable days of my life.
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