With so many people embracing RV travel in lieu of overseas travel, I wonder if it’s still possible to escape the  'maddening crowd.’ I’m not a hermit, but I do enjoy some solo reflection and discovery during my three-month winter travels each year, as well as meeting new people along the way.

I have the benefit of a 4WD high-top LandCruiser Troopie but many of the unsealed roads I travel would also be good for a decent-sized van with high clearance and good tyres. My focus this year is the Northern Territory, particularly the Top End, as I haven’t travelled there since going in a HD panel van in 1972.

Coming from Tasmania, I have a pass to travel through Victoria which is in lockdown as I write this. As I have dual tanks I don’t even need to stop for fuel and the Sunraysia Highway is virtually empty all the way to Pinnaroo in South Australia. I camp along the Murray at Loxton with two other vans, and alone by the lake in Bambera.

As I head towards the Ikara-Flinders Ranges, I pull up at Burra in the Gorge. My first stops in the Flinders are Wilkallina and Chambers Gorges. I have these magnificent places to myself to wander the dry riverbeds and gaze at the Indigenous rock paintings. I then drive further east to Arkaroola. There are a few people in the caravan park, but when walking or exploring I rarely meet anyone. As a rock fossicker, this is a wonderful place to enhance my knowledge, although no collecting is allowed.

So far, so good. There are not people ‘everywhere.’ I head up the Oodnadatta Track after overnighting at the old Ghan ruins of Farina, where, as it is June, the bakery run by volunteers is open. When I come out of Farina and turn towards Maree, I am pulled up by the local police. A caution only, as there’s no sign to indicate the speed limit is 100km per hour rather than 110km that is signposted down the road. Drivers beware! I arrive at Oodnadatta, which has various free camps ‘off the track’ with plenty of spots as usual.

Palm Springs is just off Duncan Road near Halls Creek, WA

As I don’t wish to drive on the busy Stuart Highway, I take the Binns Track (which is definitely four-wheel driving) to Dalhousie this year. Unfortunately, the first two roads are closed due to flooding so I have to drive to Mount Dare and then back down to Dalhousie. After enjoying the fantastic camping spots of Dalhousie, Mount Dare, and Old Andado, I continue on between the red dunes of the Simpson Desert to Alice Springs.

Alice is busy. Accommodation is stretched and people are everywhere, so it’s a quick restock of food and then onwards to the Tanami Track. I’m doing a 1000km detour into Western Australia to go to Purnululu/Bungle Bungles, as the park was closed due to bushfires the last time I was there. I suspect that the Tanami, like all these iconic tracks, will soon be sealed, so now is the time for adventure! The track leads to Indigenous communities and mining companies so the bitumen is already creeping west on the Northern Territory section.

June this year (2021) is a perfect time to cross. There’s  been good rainfall and the country is covered with spinifex waving like a field of wheat. Small shrubs and trees abound. It’s not quite what I was expecting as red dirt is barely visible except for the clouds coming up behind the Troopie as I traverse the corrugations. It’s an arid area so there is only water from bores for most of the crossing until I come to Sturt Creek, which has water still flowing towards Lake Gregory. The creek is bird-watching paradise. I spot zebra finches, egrets, ducks, budgerigars, and the inevitable whistling kites with a nest just above my campsite.

Roper Bar, NT

Purnululu is busy as expected but many people just come in for a day trip by bus, leaving plenty of room in the camp spots. Even when walking, it is not that busy unless you coincide with a large busload. After Purnululu, I drive back through Halls Creek and up the Duncan Road to return to the Northern Territory. I love this road. There are so many places to explore — Old Halls Creek, Caroline Pool, Palm Springs for swimming, and Sawpit Gorge.

After the Duncan branches off from the Buntine Highway it becomes more of a track. Work is in progress to improve the sections that cross the floodways. My favourite camp spot is just after the flowing Forrest Creek, where I turn onto a track towards the Old Ord River. It’s obviously lesser-known as I camp for  three nights right on the rock shelf above the water with no other visitors. I know I must be getting closer to crocodile country, but after the first day in very hot weather I take my chances and go for a quick dip — glorious! It’s also a good river to spec for interesting rocks along the edges.

After a brief run along the bitumen of Victoria Highway, I turn south again for another 1000km diversion to Kalkarinji and the designated fossicking site at Wave Hill Station. Permission must be obtained from the mine leaseholder and the station manager. I camp overnight at the magnificent Victoria River. No swimming here — the Victoria is renowned for crocodiles further up, and who knows how far down they come.

An incredible swathe of Swainsona formosa, or Sturt’s Desert Pea

At Wave Hill, the flies and I have a mighty time specking the dry creek beds with some good finds being made — although mainly it’s the flies finding me. There is a grasshopper inundation too, and they rise in swarms as I drive along the tracks. Wave Hill Station is where the Gurindji stockmen, led by Vincent Lingari, walked off the pastoral property in 1966, thus starting land rights awareness for Indigenous people. In the 1980s land ownership was finally granted at Daguragu, though Wave Hill Station is still owned by a pastoral company. The Aboriginal art centre in Kalkakarinji is welcoming and has a wonderful selection of traditional and more modern paintings.

I then drive northward on the sealed Buntine Highway to Katherine. After all the isolation, Katherine is packed with caravans and travellers — there’s even a long queue to get into the supermarket!

As I want to explore Nitmiluk, Litchfield, and Kakadu National Parks I steel myself to prepare for crowds, but I am pleasantly surprised that many of the national park camps are spaced out in bush settings and don’t feel crowded. There’s also an opportunity to catch up on a bit of socialising. Sometimes, it’s just nice to know that there’s someone else around.

When driving into the old Blythe homestead in Litchfield, I come to a long creek crossing/floodway about 0.8m deep, that curves around the corner with the far side not visible. I’m doing all the right things, moving smartly so I have a small bow wave, but when I turn the corner, I see another vehicle with no snorkel has lost all power at the steep exit. I’m now stuck in the creek in crocodile country with steam from the exhaust clouding around me. Luckily, someone approaches from the opposite direction, whips out their snatch strap and winch, and tows out the vehicle in front to safety. This means I can now also finally exit.

Whistling Duck Waterhole, Davenport Ranges, NT

Any time I have to venture onto the Stuart Highway I am overwhelmed by the immense number of travellers. At Mataranka, on the quest to find the roads less travelled, I head east on the Roper River Road towards the Gulf. After the Roper, the road travels down through Limmen National Park. For a road that is part of the Savannah Way, it is in surprisingly poor condition — corrugations, creek crossings, and bulldust. After the bitumen, the Troopie and I revel in the slightly challenging conditions. I check out all the campgrounds and end up staying at Munbilla (Tomato Island) by the river, and at Towns River on the rock ledge above the water. I have a swim at Butterfly Falls and walk the Southern Lost City, with its huge sandstone monoliths and natural sculptures, reminiscent of Purnululu.

After Limmen National Park, I veer off onto the pastoral lease of Lorella Springs, where there is a million acres of wilderness with 4WD tracks to explore the gorges, rivers, and the Gulf of Carpentaria. There’s plenty of people here, but also plenty of places to go. I take the track out to the Gulf and dip my toes in the water. From Tasmania to the Gulf! Not quite in the footsteps of Stuart, and not quite with Stuart’s hardships, but as an older woman travelling solo it has been a fulfilling challenge. I check out Borroloola, and the mining loading facility at Bing Bong (great name) as well as the McArthur River and Ash Bay Fishing Camp. I’ve now dipped my toes in the Gulf waters three times — time to make my way home.

Peake Creek Siding Rest Area off the Oodnadatta Track, SA

I travel down the Tablelands Highway through Crawford Crossing and Barkly Roadhouse (stopping for some fossicking along the roadside near Anthony Lagoon) and into Tennant Creek on the Barkly Highway — all easy travelling. After exploring some old mines at Tennant Creek, I tackle the Stuart Highway then take a break at Whistling Duck waterhole in the Davenport Ranges National Park.

As I come into Alice and internet coverage, I learn that New South Wales is in lockdown and Victoria is about to follow (again). I wonder if there’s a possibility that Tasmania could reject returning travellers who have driven across Victoria? The situation is changing by the hour, and I am still 2500km from  the Spirit of Tasmania. I decide to scurry down the highway, finding bush camps along the way. 

As I leave Alice Springs, the road verges are filling with wildflowers and I spot a blitz of budgerigars to the side of the highway. I stop the Troopie and head a few metres into the bush where there is a waterhole with a small pond of water remaining. The budgies are swirling and dropping and drinking — thousands of them! It is a cacophony of sound and a blur of movement — an incredible sight.

I take five days to reach Bordertown and apply for my passes. The next day, I travel without stopping through Victoria and board the Spirit of Tasmania. I then head home to Tassie.

Limmen National Park, Savannah Way, NT

After travelling 13,000km, I reflect on all the time spent alone, immersed in nature, whilst still being able to stop at a caravan park when I did crave some conversation (and, let’s face it, a shower). It’s comforting to know that it’s still possible to find solitude on the roads less travelled, and solitude if you seek it. The question is, does everyone want to find the heat, flies, corrugations, bulldust, sand, and river crossings? Perhaps there is a simple explanation as to why my roads are less travelled, after all!

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Written: Fri 01 Apr 2022
Printed: April, 2022
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