Not far up the highway from Tennant Creek is Threeways
Roadhouse where folk coming from the south either peel off right towards
Queensland or continue straight ahead into the Territory. Here was the parting
of the ways for Thomas and Margaret and me and Maurs. We had a great time
together but all good things do come to an end and after a long drawn out cup
of coffee we said our goodbyes and moved on. Threeways was nothing like I had
imagined it. I thought it was a tough frontier joint with cow skulls adorning
hitching posts and dust and cactus everywhere, but it was just like any other
roadhouse. People called in to buy petrol and then left!
We travelled on to the Daly Waters Pub which is about 300 km
north and 3 km off the Stuart Highway but touted as a place to stay. It is a pub designed by larrikins in the great
Australian Wanka style perhaps overdone in the way that writers try to avoid
mixed metaphors but just can’t. The front bar has a collection of bras and
panties dangling above it (presumably donated spontaneously by nubile young
women carried away by their special time in Daly Waters – yeah, right!). At the
back of the bar is a wall full of foreign banknotes with autographed messages
from the happy donors (a hundred thousand Vietnamese Dong note – wow! Worth a
fortune!) Leading out to the beer garden
is a collection of antiques in the form of old toasters, spoons, rusty irons –
anything from 1988 back that has been lying around but hadn’t found its way to
the dump (it’s called local history). In the beer garden was a collection of
donated hats – the shitier looking the better, hanging from the roof. And the
piece de resistance, a collection of car number plates, not only from
Australian vehicles but from the US, Canada and Europe. Have I missed anything?
Well neither did they.
Did I forget anything now? Boat? Check. Spare car? Check. Sat TV? Check. Air Con? Checkerooney!
In its favour the beer was cold, the meals were terrific
(house speciality is half beef/half barramundi with a big salad bar) and the
entertainment was good too (a young lad from Wagga Wagga no less living his
dream of playing and singing around the country). Places like this attract
their share of idiots. I heard one guy at the bar say that he had read a travel
book on Darwin to Alice Springs (presumably big print) that talked of the Daly
Waters Pub and so he had to visit it – gee sunshine, there ain’t much else
between those two towns – could have been the shortest book in history if the author
had left it out! Anyway check out the rig that nestled in for the night; talk about
big boys’ toys. Pretentious?
It was just a short drive the next day to Mataranka (100 or
so kilometres). We had decided to stop and recharge the batteries there for
three days, staying at a place called Bitter Springs. By heading north, we had
outrun our comfortable weather zone and found ourselves in 37C heat plus
humidity plus no breezes. Mataranka’s claim to fame is its thermal springs and
the creek at Bitter Springs is the pick of the locations, however it is
difficult to cool off in thermal springs at any time, pleasant as it was. I
found myself gulping down cold water by the litre trying to keep hydrated. This
worried Maurs as I am not known for my water-drinking skills.
On the last night we tried out the local restaurant and
found that we had gate-crashed a conference being held at the resort. Suddenly
we were shaking hands and introducing ourselves to conference delegates,
shooting the breeze about various issues, but stopping short of grabbing free
drinks at the bar (I just didn’t think it was right you know). I reckon we have
enough experience to crash any conference and seem....sincere. We had the
barramundi that night also – we could easily clean the Territory of that
blasted fish if we keep going.
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