There is a road house at Cameron Corner with a tri-state golf course. Part of the appeal of making the trip is to stop and have a drink in the middle of nowhere. Unfortunately for us, the road house sits a few meters over the QLD border, and folk from NSW are very much not allowed to cross.
We were hoping there might be some common sense arrangement to allow the road house and general store to continue doing business, apparently much of their trade comes up from NSW rather than down from QLD. Unfortunately, no such arrangement existed.
Joe has brought a hat with him, as he has heard that they collect hats and hang them on the wall. It has been his intention since well before leaving Sydney to hang his hat at the corner. It seems the border will put a stop to that.
He spots a man outside the roadhouse, walks over to the fence and waves over to him. The man wanders over, and they have a socially distanced chat across the fence. He’s the owner, and accepts Joe’s hat for the wall. Mission accomplished.
My own corner ritual is slightly different, and luckily for me the pole that marks the border between states sits a good few meters before the border fence making it accessible.
I’ve carried a tin of cider with me that I had purchased in Sydney, but which had been brewed close to where I grew up in the UK. I figure that I might get to be the first person to drink apples from the other side of the world whilst being in three states of Australia, so I slap my hand on the corner pole, spreading my palm out to ensure I’m definitely in all three states and I take a sip!
We head back into NSW to Fort Grey campground, where we spend another night sleeping beneath clear skies, a blanket of stars and the light of the moon.
NSW Parks website advises that you will not need an alarm clock at Fort Grey, as you will be awoken by the dawn chorus. Disappointingly, that is not the case during our visit. I find the magpies of the Inner West to be a far more effective wake up call than the timid birds of Sturt National Park. They do make a beautiful sound nonetheless.
Today is going to be a long day. Six hours driving along unsealed, heavily corrugated roads to Bourke.
We stop off in Tibooburra to refuel, I had written my postcards at Fort Grey, and planned to post them in Tibooburra. However, I discover that I have six postcards not five and will need another stamp.
In the Tibooburra general store, petrol station, cafe and post office the store workers are found sitting round a table reading the Trip Advisor reviews of their town to each other “5 stars, a charming border town” I can’t help but agree.
“Can I help you”
“Oh yes, I’d like an international stamp please, for the UK”
Without fuss or ceremony an international stamp is produced from a tub kept behind the counter. The stamp celebrates the first postal flight between the UK and Australia. I post 5 of 6 postcards in Tibooburra, and they arrive together two weeks later. The sixth, I still need to write and will post somewhere else along the way.
After some hours on the road, we spy something hanging from a tree in the distance. It is hard to make out what it might be. We slow down as it comes into sight. It is a feral dog, caught and hung. I get out for a closer look and the smell is absolutely vile. We presume that the smell of a hanging dog keeps other wild dogs away, but this turns out to be a myth. According to this article, hanging dogs from visible roadside trees is more about communicating the death of a problem dog to the local farming community.
There is one town between Tibooburra and Bourke, Wanaaring. It has a general store with a couple of fuel pumps and a rural fire service. There is some relief from the relentless corrugations at Wanaaring, and further good-ish news between Wanaaring and Bourke - they are upgrading the road and tarmacking it. For future travellers, this will be a very welcome relief, but for us it just meant hours of corrugations before a slow smooth drive at restricted speeds to more corrugations.
We arrive in Bourke, thoroughly shaken, looking forward to a real bed and a warm shower. For the first night of our trip the wind picks up and it rains overnight. Aren’t we lucky to be tucked up in nice warm beds indoors.
We pre-book our motel breakfast, thinking it will be a treat to not have to cook or wash up. Eating baked beans whilst staring at wood paneling on a motel wall just can’t compare to birdsong and the feel of the morning sun on your face.
We watch the breakfast news on TV in the motel, something of a novelty and a curiosity as none of us really watch TV at home. The big news of the day is the impact the QLD border closure is having on people, unable to travel even for compassionate reasons. Later in the show a family is being interviewed. They all have their masks to prevent the spread of Coronavirus. The grandmother sits nervously fiddling with her face mask, rubbing her fingers all over it before grasping her husband’s arm, and then his hand. We all physically recoil from the screen. Joe and Kathlyne are medical professionals and acutely aware of best practice in infection control. The news feature is called something like “the family who all caught coronavirus”. Looks like grandma might be the culprit.