The (Only) Road to Boulia

I set out early from Winton on the final leg of my journey to Boulia, wanting to enjoy the gentle light and lower temperatures of the morning. Both would ramp up later in the day. Just outside of town, I turned left and, with the van's shadow leading the way, started knocking off the three hundred-plus kilometres. Soon, the road narrows to the point where it only just qualifies as a road and where a roadside sign informs that this is a road train route. Hmmm. I don't want to meet too many of them; it is not just the jagged rocks evident on the road shoulder that worry me, but recent rain seems to have left the shoulders mushy, and many tyre furrows attest to that. Still … the morning is beautiful, the country is interesting and there is no danger of getting lost. There is but one road and one destination, albeit many kilometres away, and the distance markers continue to remind me that there is a long way to go. There are lots of other signs, too, so there is plenty to read to wile away the first couple of hours. Signs for creeks with no sign of water; signs to direct me to give way, warning me of floodways and reminding me that I am travelling the Matilda Way. The signs informing of “overtaking opportunities” are new to me, but I soon realise that there is nothing for me to overtake, and very few vehicles to overtake me. I pass two vehicles travelling in the opposite direction in the first hour, and see fewer than twenty in both direction for the whole journey. For much of the distance, properties are unfenced. The sheep blend in perfectly with the roadside grass and I am startled a couple of times. After a while, the number of signs decreases significantly, as if the road traffic people lost interest or ran out of signs. The kilometres disappeared eventually, too, and I arrive in Boulia - as far west as I have been in Queensland for many years. I am much closer to Alice Springs than Brisbane, but I would rather be here right now than either of those places.