Oh the places you’ll stay!

For the last little while, our journey strangely became less about the activities we filled our days with, and more about the places we stayed. All of our accommodation was free, but priceless. 

We began by stumbling across an abandoned WWII airfield, several kilometres off the highway. At 50 metres across and 2km long, there was definitely no chance of running into our 3 neighbours in the nude (only happened once, at a rest stop outside Broome; them, not us). The airstrip, while amazing to behold, also provided us with the opportunity for a secluded fire that involved ripping dead trees from the ground, walking into a tree stump and skewering a shin (Vaughn), fire twirling, and just acting like teenagers do when the parents go away for the weekend. Waking up to wallaby grazing by the side of Gorrie Airstrip had us debating whether we really needed to depart.

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A deserted camp halfway to the Queensland border offered the opportunity to admire the night sky with zero light pollution. Pro tip: I finally learnt that the stars are more impressive when you wear your glasses. There’s 38 years of learning for you.

Based on a random conversation at a petrol station, we then headed to Camooweal Billabong for lunch, on our way into Queensland. Four days later, we tore ourselves away from the Billabong. The Brolgas, egrets, and wandering whistling ducks had mesmerised us, Meaning the only move we made from our prime position backing on to the Billabong was to head to the local store for food and wine.

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As we headed on through Mt Isa, looking for somewhere free to stay, we tossed up between staying near a dam 50km East or an old township called Mary Kathleen. Given the drought, we thought a dam may be rough to see, and so we headed to the old township of Mary Kathleen.

Mary Kathleen was owned by a mining company and serviced the nearby uranium mine. When the mine ran out, the mining company auctioned off all the materials it could, including furniture, walls, roofed, shelves, everything. Anything that couldn’t be auctioned was left behind.

And so we meandered through streets full of concrete slabs where there had once been houses, stumbled across a half hidden water feature in the main square still bearing the plaque of its unveiling, and carefully navigating crumbling paths across the disused water system.

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Heading past the overgrown tennis courts, we stumbled upon the toilet block of the old school, before tracing the faint outline of a 50 metre pool, long since filled in with rubble and what little was left crumbling.  

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As we completed our lap, we discovered that we were staying on the site of the old town cinema, some surviving foundations and steps leading to nowhere the only hint that there had once been a thriving social scene on this space. On asking what film we should reenact, Vaughn quickly suggested The Exorcist. This suggestion was not endorsed and Grease was agreed as the more palatable option.

The next morning we rode to the open cut uranium mine, swerving around potholes, fallen trees, and bits of road that just didn’t exist any more. 3 minutes of looking at the positively radiant blue water, and we decided that the eeriness of town was matched by the dead calm water.

Another night in this ghost town of Mary Kathleen, and then off to see the larger ghosts on Queensland’s Dinosaur Trail.