We have been @ site 20 at the Marble Bar Holiday Park officially since Saturday. Last Friday, we wafted on the edges in the overflow area, which was fine for the night. We have had six glorious days here with another four to go. Has Marble Bar lived up to our expectations? Absolutely. Do we continue to fly by the seats of our pants, whilst enduring the sometimes unexpected catastrophe? You bet your sweet bippy. Are we allowing adversity of any sort to cramp our style? Not bloody likely.
We met new managers Warren and Mandi after they had been here only a week. They have risen to the challenge of checking in legions of arrivals on a daily basis. I have witnessed traffic gridlock at the entry to the park, two cars unable to leave because of a queue of motorhomes and caravans were blocking the narrow causeway across the currently dry creek bed. I have also been in danger a number of times of being run over by one of their gigantic homes on wheels being pulled by equally gigantic vehicles.
Watching caravans being placed onto their allotted sites is truly a spectator sport. Michael and I manage this task with him in the car, reversing whilst I engage in an extraordinary number of vague hand signals with much shouting. I was most impressed as I watched a good lady communicating quietly and efficiently with her other half via a walkie talkie with great success and a minimum of fuss. Another couple took several bites of the cherry to position their van and for some inexplicable reason, parked they vehicle at right angles to their van, rather than parallel which would have afforded them more shade.
Shade is usually a precious commodity here in the north west. However, Marble Bar has been unseasonably cool this August. Daily maxima usually hover around the thirty degree mark. This temperature has not been reached thus far and we have revelled in these ideal fossicking conditions. Even the nights have been decidedly chilly, requiring extra layers of clothing and even the caravan heater on a couple of occasions. Not like Marble Bar at all.
So far, we have fossicked over four afternoons. Given our advanced ages, we no longer participate in two sessions of fossicking every day. About three hours of focused attention in a few particular resource centres (tip, settlement, workings) is our limit. Thus, we have perused a fairly broad area around the Ironclad Battery about three kilometres from town. We have scouted pockets of broken glass and rusty metal. We have noted with interest where the bottle hunters have obviously been. Fortunately, bottle enthusiasts tend to leave our treasure chest of discarded metal objects alone.
Surprising, some resource centres that look promising do not turn out to be so and others, which appear on a scant glance to be not terribly interesting reveal an absolute metal goldmine. The only way to really tell is to exit Lily and walk slowly and purposefully through the chosen bit of rocks and spinifex. Trees out here are not common commodities, unless they are lucky enough to grow near where water can collect.
Yesterday afternoon was a case in point. We did not set out on our expedition until after lunch, feeling rather gloomy about our rapidly diminishing funds. Yalgoo, where we were hoping to stay on the way home, is now looking decidedly unlikely. We had our spirits lifted by watching the shenanigans of the latest crop of caravan maneuvers. Housework was completed and our bed shaken out thoroughly, again. I discovered that only one of three washing machines was operational, so handwashing was put off until later.
And thus, we set out. We visited a couple of spots that gave us a few snippets of treasures, but not what we were really seeking. So, we ventured a bit further outwards and finally struck the jackpot. We discovered an almost invisible track that took us close to some workings. That a blacksmith had been present at some stage was obvious. There was metal everywhere. We walked and stopped and searched and collected. We ended up having to repack the back of the ute.
And then, regrettably, we discovered we had a flat tyre whilst exercising the dogs at the beautiful grassed RSL park. With the assistance of Rick, a retired copper who had been on the road with Sandra and dog Sasha for three years, Michael was able to change the wretched flat for the spare and we returned to our temporary home beneath the gum trees and birds right on dusk.
This incident came on top of a most unplanned disaster - my faithful Steel Blue boots giving up the ghost. Having been my reliable footwear over twelve years of expeditions with Michael, I was appalled to discover my uppers had parted company with the heels and the stuffing between them had disintegrated. I'm afraid I can only blame my pretty rough treatment of my precious boots for their epic fail. So, I am now relying on my sneakers for the remainder of this trip. Plus, we have to try and get out flat tyre repaired with little money available for such a circumstance. No wonder Michael's anxiety has spiralled back through the roof. *sigh*
We are paid up until Tuesday here in Marble Bar and then for a night in Newman. After that, we will probably hotfoot it for home a few days earlier than planned. Whilst disappointed to miss out staying at Yalgoo with its excellent tip, there is always another trip. Michael's mantra regarding our adventures is to leave something for next time.
And do not misunderstand me, we have had and are continuing to have a wonderful and warm relaxing break.
Triumphant after a successful afternoon of fossicking (my nose is dirty again).
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