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6-months on the road

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6-months on the road

For this milestone we are in Northern Territory on the Gove Peninsula, East Arnhem Land.... and we are wandering the airy corridors of the YIRRKALA ART CENTRE - an expansive display of Indigenous Arnhem Aboriginal art.

It's been 6mths now, since leaving the cooler climes of Bayside Melbourne... and every now and then something special has come our way...  like a special moment or thing, an event, a place or person. This time it's all about a priceless national treasure we have never heard of.

To get to Yirrkala it's been a drive on the reddest of roads,  billowing dust the norm, corrugations common and the occasional rut  - '24hrs from Katherine' the information brochure says, although 'only' 700km as our truck flies.

We overnight at Mainoru Roadhouse, our recommended stop in accordance with our over-the-counter, no-cost, 10-day permit from the Northern Land Council office in the Katherine main street.

On our arrival at Nhulunbuy on the Gove Peninsula, we seek out the 'Dhimurru Corporation' office for camping permits on Aboriginal land, then our NT liquor permit to buy take-away alcohol.

The seaside town of Yirrkala is 20km to the south, the scent of frangipani on a breeze, the sun hot, the Gulf of Carpentaria a glittering turquoise blue and the sand a dazzling white.

The gallery is adjacent an Aussie Rules oval of green grass, a stadium/shed and store. Impressive murals cover outside walls... the heros of Aboriginal rights going back to the 1960s. The gallery entry is plain and unadorned, the glass door dark and dusty under a wide, shady verandah. 

Once inside is another story... a treasure-trove of handmade indigenous art typical of this isolated region. There are forests of traditional wooden Yidaki - didgeridoo - with the most intricate traditional designs, wall hangings and paintings. Shelves are stacked full of books, CDs and carvings. Simple racks are laden with woven bags and a photographer snaps special pieces in a cluttered room off to the side.

Justin is lean, has a greying mane of straight hair and has been here since the 90s. He rises from behind his computer screen, stands tall in a plain white tee-shirt and blue jeans. There is something we must see, he says.

Out back is a specially-built darkened room with timber steps down to a small sunken cellar of sorts - atmospheric with soft lighting designed to highlight 2-vertical panels. Both are intricate in their design - rustic browns and blacks - with a low bench seat directly across from, and in front of the panels. There is a lot for the visitor to take in. 

The panels are about 1m wide by 3m high and hang side by side. And they tell an Aboriginal creation story, wonderfully presented in detail by the Indigenous artists, but evidently with no Christian influence, coersion or direction.

Justin tells a story that begins "before my time", the panels created by Yolnu elders and gifted to the newly opened Methodist church in 1963, intended for permanent display as a screen behind the communion table. Justin waves one hand towards the front door. "You would have seen the church over the road."

The story continues... 10yrs after the panels are installed - around 1983 -  a new missionary arrives at the church, saying the panels are inappropriate for a church, and are most certainly "heathen" works. Both panels are stripped from inside the church against the wishes of the Parish Committee.

The panels lie neglected and forlorn for 4yrs - but are never completely forgotten - propped against an outside wall exposed to the ways of mud wasps and weather, before being rescued by a coalition of Indigenous and non-Indigenous activists, then cleaned by the staff of the Australian University.

Justin pauses for effect and to gather his thoughts while peering over the top of thin-rimmed glasses. "And that was the beginning of a movement here in Arnhem Land... you might say, the very beginning of the entire Australian Indigenous Land Rights movement."

Down in the cellar my eyes are drawn to the panel on the right, with a small figure top and centre - a diminutive, painted bird - this little bird being the ancestral link between the spirit and the temporal worlds, flanked by helpers on his immediate right and left... the cicada and the possum. Alas, an ancient story considered inappropriate to the doctrines taught in a civilized house of worship. 

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Calling on Carnarvon Gorge

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Calling on Carnarvon Gorge

Heading inland from Hervey Bay is a 500km detour from our anticipated coastal route north... and a big day's drive in most people's book. But we share the driving - and it is a World Heritage area after all - so what the hell.

We arrive at the visitor centre in fading light, to find camping only allowed at specific times of year... and with no camping just now. So we double back to just outside the National Park boundary. 

We've happened across 'Sandstone Park', a sprawling cattle station dream of the owners, blessed with a high double ridge above the gorge itself... at the moment blanketed in drizzly black.

In the daylight the weather is grey and cloudy, with clearing rain. But the day ahead reveals some of the gorge's secrets, with a walk over stepping stone creek crossings  to a natural amphitheater reached via several flights of vertical steps, and a long chasm open to the sky but just one person wide. A natural overhang is a gallery of indigenous painting on a vast, soaring sandstone wall, making the onlooker feeling minuscule and irrelevant. Impossibly rock-wrought ponds and waterfalls, and secluded moss gardens garnered with a dose of Dreamtime magic.

The evening brings a special bonus, gold-drenched sandstone escarpments, a roaring campfire and the smell of woodsmoke under endless stars.

On the second morning we are blessed with bewitching views of the same timeless escarpments - this time white - among broken wisps of drifting mist... calls of currawongs and cockatoos, and a visit from a lone bovine visitor looking bored with it all.

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Dusting off the sand - Brisbane, then Toowoomba

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Dusting off the sand - Brisbane, then Toowoomba

We are in Brisbane for 2-nights... with the luxury of a hot shower, free WiFi that really works, and cocktails at the iconic Storey Bridge Hotel beneath the equally iconic Brisbane bridge of the same name.

There are some tweaks to the truck needed - the engine malfunction light having ominously appeared... again... a repeat offender from months ago, and something we really need to finally nail. Toyota now tell us the problem lay with after-factory-fitted cruise control and simply disconnect the culprit. So it seems we are temporarily without a cruise control. Mmmm... the saga continues... and we shall try another tack on that one. Oh, and there is also the matter of a smallish melanoma to be removed.

So here we are - on our last balmy Brisbane night - the above dealt with... for the moment, and we ponder our next move. But let's be brutally honest here... we do seem to have trouble travelling in straight lines, and have just spotted another distraction in a Brisbane magazine. It seems there's impressive street art in the Queensland city of Toowoomba, Australia's 2nd biggest inland city after Canberra. 

Yes, we are still headed up the coast to Townsville and beyond... but... in the meantime we move on once again, to enjoy the optimism of Toowoomba - a forward-thinking city with big plans - great Turkish food and some stunning street art. 

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