Spontaneity

We've got loads of it, you know.

The five of us set out in my vehicle which seats five almost comfortably, plus a dog and all our gear for a week-long adventure. Our plan was to start out at Undara Lava Tubes to witness some ancient geological marvels and work our way down to the historic mining town of Charters Towers to experience some not-so-ancient architectural marvels.

But, of course, it didn't work out like that.

Here we are in front of the windfarm at Ravenshoe (pronounced Ravens-hoe, not Raven-shoe), one of our Tableland neighboring towns, where the temps dipped to a record -7 C/18 F the night before. Elle explained the reason for the cooler weather was that someone left all the fans on.



First stop, Innot Hot Springs where some of us enjoyed a relaxing soak in the heated water...



...and some didn't...



...and some, namely me, seriously considered spending the entire night in a pool of water under a blanket of volcanically heated sand, the only warm spot for hundreds of miles around.

It was at the springs where I met Jane. Whether Plain Jane or Jane Doe or Tarzan's Jane comes to mind, you'd have a pretty accurate image. She told me her story while she stripped down to nearly nothing, bathed, and heated her and her daughter's pot of soup in a pool adjoining my own. She came to Australia from New York six years ago as a backpacker. She homeschools her only child and is greatly concerned about the increase in regulations and decrease in freedoms she perceives here in Australia. Something that's been gnawing away at us as well. Jane is considering a move to a freer society, but hasn't yet figured out where that might be, and may even head back to the States until she does. We had loads to talk about, being of similar minds. Elle was overjoyed to meet her daughter, both Americans, both homeschooled, both six years of age; she reckoned they were nearly twins. We had a very enjoyable afternoon sharing our common bonds.

We made it to the camp ground near Undara, set up both tents, put out a picnic and lolled in the lovely hot sun for an hour or two when we got the phone call. Remember the hush-hush stuff I hinted about earlier? Jorge had applied for a job over on the west side of the Cape York Peninsula, one that would enable us to stay in Australia regardless of whether or not our Florida property sells, one that not only pays well, but provides housing, a vehicle, and tax breaks. It seemed as if he was well-suited to the position, but so much time had elapsed we figured it must not have been a real possibility. They had called leaving a message on our answering machine to say he had been short-listed and wanted to do a phone interview. Jorge returned the call and suggested that since we were halfway there he head on over as he preferred to interview in person, and I wanted to see what we were potentially getting ourselves into, so the next morning off we went.

The Cape York Peninsula, the little triangle up on the top right of the country? It's enormous. Takes nearly 11 hours to get across the base of it, and the "highway" is a single lane road with dirt shoulders that you have to swerve onto for oncoming traffic. The oncoming traffic usually meets you halfway veering off in a cloud of red dust, unless it's a 164-foot long road train, they don't budge. You also have to watch out for livestock. Stations are so huge they're unfenceable; cattle grates cross the main highway every once in a while to mark boundaries. It was not a boring drive at all.





Because we left all our gear behind, we stayed in a motel for the night in the nearby town of Karumba where the mouth of the impossibly indigo Norman River meets the Gulf of Carpentaria. The motel welcomed dog owners, but would not allow the actual dogs into the rooms, so I spent the afternoon and evening sitting on the porch with and sleeping in the car with Lulu. You will not see any pictures of that.

The interview went well, and to celebrate Jorge and I feasted on giant Gulf prawns and seafood chowder sans kids and dog. The girls were finally advised of the situation -- the reason it had been hush-hush is that they would have had a stroke anticipating a move from this place they love so much -- but a quick tour of the town (all it takes being a tiny, remote, outback flyspeck of a place), its interesting old buildings, the house we would potentially live in, the sports complex with the giant pool and tennis courts, and the historic train station (the end of the line, which takes passengers ultimately straight into the big city of Cairns) produced no huge objections, although Sarabelle inquired about the possibility of boarding at a friend's house.

We headed back to camp and though we still had plenty of time to reschedule a visit to the lava tubes, we stayed one more night and then just packed up and headed home a day early. We saw plenty of geological wonders along the way and took an alternate route home through the mining town of Herberton where we enjoyed the charming vernacular architecture.

Jorge should hear something by Friday...


It's not just a job, it's an adventure.

-- Anonymous (U.S. Navy slogan)