The western Queensland plains fanned out in all directions as I pulled out of Windora the next morning. Three hundred and eighty kilometres to go and a mix of road conditions ahead. The further west, worryingly, the darker the skies became. The road to Birdsville had just been re-opened to general traffic and knowing what we know now, even the smell of rain could be a portent of disaster.
Despite the remoteness, a couple of internet lifelines, provided a modicum of reassurance. But alone again…naturally. The road split, one way to Bedourie , the other to Birdsville. The heads-up was that the road was in good condition. ‘Floodways’ were easy-peazy, but ‘Dips’ were variable, so I had to keep slowing down until I could see the entire way through in front of me. Now on the Birdsville Developmental Road, at some point it stated to rise imperceptibly. It must have, because on my left loomed a sign that said Deon’s Lookout. It was only a growling stomach that decided for me to at least, stop for a break. I pulled up at the summit and was surrounded by stunning. Channel country stretched full 360 to the horizons. A vantage point rarely bested in this country yet disguised amongst the flat lands and only fully comprehended by being there.
It could have easily been a click, click and move on, but a rain front way out ahead of me was sweeping around the southern sky, clearly visible from my vantage point and coming my way. But honestly, it was just a convenient excuse to spend a night on this pinnacle. The weather forecast was for clear skies the next day and a chance to do this spot justice.
The signs were good. A star filled sky and the blurry arm of the Milky Way bode well. In the distance some lights twinkled. They turned out to be the lights of the Betoota Pub some 23klms away, and a place on my list to call in the following day. The next morning was a perfect. The wind had cleared out everything. Didn’t have a clue how the light would unfold, so got up at sparrows fart and wandered around in a hoodie and a camera dangling and a coffee in hand. Cooking breakfast over a campfire, on a cliff top, with THAT view, was just irresistible. Sometimes you just have to sit in one place and take it all in.
The name Deon’s Lookout is not given to an explorer, but to a young Deon Brook, who was killed in a helicopter accident 18 nautical miles south back in 1996. He was only 20 years old. But his was not the only one. I had pulled together a fireplace closer to the cliff edge, from another campfire nearby.
But it was only after breakfast that I noticed that there was a message texted onto the bottom of a smaller rock. It wasn’t that surprising, given the location. I guessing a French tourist couple. The French seem to be particularly adventurous, as I’ve met them in some pretty remote places over the years.
I love this. One of those “only in Australia”. The literal stand out feature of the lookout was not the memorial, not the information display, but the dunny. Like the Tardis has just appeared out of nowhere. It goes without saying that it has a view to die for. In the meantime, I was waiting for a northbound vehicle to cross me on the road far below to confirm that I could actually make it to Birdsville. One did about 8am and another around 9:30am. So a little reluctantly, I headed back to the road, turned left and was off again.
