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We left McKinlay and headed back towards the coast. Started hitting road works again every half kilometre for a while. This I didn't miss up north. The land here is even dryer than the gulf. There is a lot of the landscape that is bare of grass.
We booked into the first caravan park I came across in Barcaldine not knowing that there are 3 side by side along the road. I was guiding Pat into the van site when suddenly I was giving some unusual hand signals that Pat did not understand. When he got out of the car and asked me what I meant I had to tell him that they were not signals but that some low life bird had been sitting on the branch above me and had decided to let his bowel movement drop on my head YUCK, the slimey little toad if I could have got hold of him he was dead. Pat just laughed as usual.
The park had entertainment of a very country sort that afternoon, accordion music and singing, billy tea and damper done in camp ovens over the fire, bush poetry. We could hear it from the van. I was more interested in the site next door.
Ladies you would have preferred it too. A couple of 20 something European males, with no shirts and great bods setting up next to us. Pity it was while listening to a very loud geriatric domestic going on over at the camp kitchen. The two geriatrics were old enough to know better.
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