Day 4 commenced with a marked similarity to Day 3 and 2. I
was surprised to find that my quad had survived the freight trip from
Kununurra to Mount Isa, via Darwin. Though it barely survived its previous employ on another mine site
where the environmental officer (you know who you are) ran it nearly dry of
engine oil. More fun was to be had with the second quad which we had been
warned was drained dry of fluids. In went a new battery, in went 14 litres of
petrol, in went a clean air filter and, then, out came 13.5 litres of petrol all over the
workshop floor. After much swearing, fist waving and mopping up of 98 ron we
determined that the Fitters from the other site had drained the carby and not
done up the fuel dump valve. Noice one boyz – love ya work!
On Day 5 we got off to a cracking start heavily burdened by
the knowledge we had nearly 700km of black top and gravel to conquer before
night fell and the cattle, wallabies and snakes came out onto the highway to
play chicken.
Normally I would not
consider 700 km as a ‘big deal’ drive, but we were packing some serious kit;
the quads alone weighed near on a tonne and Mr Ed had bought so much tinned
food I was convinced he was intent on re-enacting Burke and Wills epic journey
across the red centre.
The fun really began about 40 kilometres out of Isa, when
the temperature had hit 40 degrees. The fuel contamination alarm started
screaming like a banshee. For a pair of field scientists we are both pretty
adept at roadside mechanics so we loosened some valves, I burned my arm on the
manifold, and we pumped the fuel pump clear of what we thought was water in the
fuel line.
Five kilometres down the road she went off screaming again. So we
repeated our remedial action. Five kilometres down the road more of the same.
With the incessant heat I had noticed something odd. The diesel that was
covering my hand as I let off the valve was evaporating: ping went the light
globe. Some clown had filled the Cruisers sub-tank with petrol instead of
diesel. With our fingers crossed we switched from the auxiliary tank to the
main tank which saw us through to Tirrana.
At the Tirrana Roadhouse I decided that my nice cotton shirt was way too clean and Mr Ed decided he did not need his reading
glasses for the next 7 days. As we scrapped around under the truck, on the hot and grotty roadhouse forecourt, trying desperately to drop the
sump plug, drain and contain the petrol I caked my back with grease and oil and Mr Ed
lost his specs. That made the remaining 150 km exceptionally uncomfortable for
me, and exceptionally blurry for Mr Ed. But we were back on the road and there
was no way we were stopping to remedy these minor glitches in the matrix.
By the end of the trip the ONLY vehicle that had not given
us any grief at all was the kayak I borrowed from Tim at Kingfisher Camp to
paddle out to the middle of Goose Swamp. Big and bright yellow, I determined it
to be enough of a visual deterrent to keep the crocs at bay while I paddled out
into the middle of the swamp.
It was exceptionally hard, hot and demanding work
pushing through the lilies and other muck fouling up the water. So you can only
imagine my disappointment when I got out to the middle and stood up to find the
water just over knee deep. The only vehicle that had not failed us was one that
was, in actual fact, completely redundant in the first instance. I ended up
dragging it back to shore after I had taken my water samples as that was
infinitely easier than paddling.
So, after all of that, I, like you, have deduced that Burke
and Wills had it 'down' all along. The next time I cross Australia from corner to
corner am leaving my Frequent Flyer card on the kitchen bench and I am taking
the camel.
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