Kingsborough
Wednesday
I had planned on being on the Walsh River by now, but Ike's invitation to stay another day was too good to refuse. While the horses played on the other side of the creek, I explored the area -walking up to the General Grant mine which dominates Kingsborough with its huge rusty chimney. The 10 ton boiler was hauled by bullock teams in 1877, from Port Douglas. Climbing one of the steep rocky hills, I explored a couple of the horizontal mine shafts, and admired the views to the spectacular Mt Mulligan.
Looking back through my previous days' comment of this amazing country, it seems rather negative - in fact my feelings are more a respectful awe that is easily misinterpreted during periods of my exasperation. No, it is truly wild and remarkable countryside around here. It's hard to believe that 100 years ago I'd be amongst thousands of people living here, scratching in the dirt for GOLD. I'm determined not to get bitten by THAT bug, yet after reading some of Ike's prospecting books - from yarns and tales, to serious stories, I found myself kicking over every lump of quartz as I wandered through the hills today!
I have a bit of a headache tonight - due entirely to the discovery of Ike's wine collection - he manufactures the stuff from the excess of fruit in his garden - but doesn't drink a drop of it himself! Incredible, considering he has (I estimate) 200 litres in 2 litre plastic bottles sitting there... batches of tamarin, banana, passionfruit, pawpaw... the list goes on. Being polite, I had to sample them all, and he doesn't spare the sugar either - all of them hovering around the 17% alcohol mark.
Getting back to the excess of fruit - I'm sad that Nugget and Sarah don't eat bananas, or any of the other delicacies that are lying around for the taking. I've harvested pocket fulls of macadamia nuts, but apart from some of the citrus, I can't take any of the other thin-skinned fruit with me. So I just make the most of it for now. And this on/off rain hasn't stopped yet.... It's quite annoying because there's no substantial moisture in it. Anyway, tomorrow I plan on leaving here, saying to myself as I leave a poem seen pinned to a gate near here:
"Shut the gate! Strain the wire!
For locked within a wild, wild woman
With voice of silk and hair of fire
Her eyes filled with passionate desire...
But beware my friends, listen well,
Let not her beauty tempt you your soul to sell,
Her heart is empty, her lips are cold.
Mortal men, thoughts blinded, do grow old,
Slaves of the mighty mistress, GOLD!"
Walsh River
Thursday 7th July
Sitting underneath a "NO CAMPING" sign at dusk, I'm a bit disgruntled. I pushed Nugget and Sarah hard today - we did over 40 km.. .hoping for a little paradise here on the Walsh River to have a couple of days' rest, but the promised "plenty of guinea grass" isn't a reality. To be expected, I suppose; at least the river is flowing! Nugget and Sarah are very hungry - I'll have to buy them some feed in Mutchilba tomorrow. But it's getting too dark and I couldn't be bothered lighting a fire. I'll finish this tomorrow.
