Long way beyond the black stump

The Humbert Track is a bone-jarring experience in a 4WD. Picture / Dennis Richardson

The bartender shrills incredulously: "A shandy?" A dozen heads swivel towards me, and I wonder if I'm breaking an unwritten house rule by diluting good Australian beer.

We're in the pub at Daly Waters, a tiny settlement that has provided Outback travellers with legendary hospitality for more than a century. The pub seems the kind of place where blokes and sheilas only slake their thirst with a full-strength brew.

"A shandy?" she repeats. "Vot's that?" House rule or not, the German backpacker-barmaid obviously hasn't had much call for watered-down beer. When she hands it over, her thoughts are possibly in synch with those around us.

"You could be shot for doing that in Germany," she confides.

In Australian lingo, Daly Waters is way, way beyond the black stump, and that's why it exists. In the late 1800s it was a stopover for overland travellers and drovers, and later became a refuelling point for early Qantas flights.

The planes don't drop by any more, but most travellers on this stretch of the Stuart Highway stop to refresh and refuel. We certainly enjoy the break after a long, hot drive from Darwin.

Many visitors seem compelled to leave something of themselves in this remote outpost, so miscellany from all over the globe mixes with local pioneering memorabilia. There's even a display of g-strings, and although the establishment has undoubtedly seen some wild times, I wonder whether the ghosts of early patrons would shudder at such impropriety.

Just south of Daly Waters we swing our 4WD camper on to the Buchanan Highway, which was named after drover and Outback pioneer Nat Buchanan, who established the area's Wave Hill Station in 1883.

The red gravel road darts away flat and straight, but the surface is deceptively corrugated. It's bone jarring, teeth-chattering stuff, and I recall a place in Canada called Head Smashed in Buffalo Jump. It's named after an incident that took place there, and I fear this highway could soon proffer the Australian equivalent - Teeth Smashed on Bloody Big Bump.

Despite the corrugations we make excellent time, flashing past wide expanses of savannah interspersed by sparse forests of spindly brown trees. Industrious termites have created natural sculptural exhibits, and their mounds punctuate the landscape in varied colour and form.

Occasionally a desiccated, hollow carcass litters the verge, all moisture sucked away by the relentless sun. This is cattle country, grazed by gentle-eyed Brahmans that belong to enormous stations like Victoria River Downs - or "The Big Run", as this 2300 sq km station is known.

It's the end of the dry season, so animals congregate at shrinking water sources. At one river crossing, cattle rest under coolabah and bloodwood trees, while mischievous corellas take a raucous bath.

We stop to enjoy this bucolic scene, but my husband's warning cry and the thud of hooves shatter the peace. I turn to see a rambunctious beast rushing for me, and although it's funny once I've scrambled into the car, it's a reminder that these semi-wild cattle can be dangerous.

We stop overnight at Top Springs Roadhouse, about halfway along the highway on a junction with the Buntine Highway - two paths that cross in the middle of a lonely land.

It's a truck stop, and the assortment of rigs and truckers prompts a theory that some drivers share the distinguishing characteristics of their vehicles. Gigantic road trains mirror the mullet hairdo favoured by some drivers - sleek and shiny at the front, but unexpectedly long and flowing in the rear. Vehicles adorned with fancy lettering correlate to elaborate tattoos.

Prudently, such thoughts remain unspoken and the next day the world of big rigs is left behind when we tackle the 4WD-only Humbert Track, which passes through Gregory National Park, following the packhorse trail that connected Bullita Homestead to the Humbert River.

Stories of stranded travellers perishing in isolated areas take on new meaning when the intentions book shows that only two vehicles have passed through in the past month.

We've got the appropriate vehicle, fuel, provisions and safety equipment, but the track is little more than wheel ruts through tall, tinder-dry grass - and to fuel my foreboding, distant plumes of black smoke stain the blue sky.

The six-hour slog takes us through 60km of scant forests and undulating grasslands, which sweep away to rugged ranges and escarpments. Rivers and streams that rage during the wet season are mostly dry, but the crossings and washouts are still tough going.

We startle a herd of brumbies led by an impressive black stallion, and they snort and prance nervously before galloping away, tails aloft and manes streaming in the breeze.

It's a relief to leave the track and take a gravel road past bulbous boab trees to deserted Bullita Homestead.

Bullita is a remnant of the region's early pastoral history, and with temperatures in the 40s, irritating flies and the threat of fire looming on the horizon, we don't need the interpretive signs to evoke the hardship suffered by pioneers.

We plan to camp amid the unusual karst formations at nearby Limestone Gorge, but the hillsides along the entry road are blackened and smouldering. A couple of roadside trees flare into beacons of fire, and when we reach the campsite even some railings are burning.

Waist-high vegetation in the centre of the campground suddenly catches alight and in an instant the flames are as tall as a tree, crackling and curling through the grass.

Luckily the hot, strong wind sweeps the wall of fire away from us, and we beat a hasty retreat to Big Horse Creek camp, on the main highway. It seems safe from fire, but crocodile warning signs are a reminder of other dangers.

It's been an action-packed, gruelling day in the Australian Outback, and journey's end at Broome, on the coast of West Australia, seems a long way off. Once we've set up camp, I don't care what the locals think, I reckon a shandy is going to slide down a treat.

* Heather Ramsay and Dennis Richardson drove from Darwin to Broome courtesy of the Northern Territory Tourism Commission.

The Savannah way

This route is part of the Savannah Way, an adventurous 3500km touring route that links Cairns in tropical north Queensland to Broome in Western Australia. The route crosses a huge variety of landscapes, and can be driven in sections. It's possible to drive the full route on sealed roads, and there are many unsealed roads and tracks that link in and out of the main route. Darwin, Cairns and Broome are the main pick-up and drop-off points for rental vehicles. A 4WD is recommended, and if you intend to tackle tracks, make sure your vehicle has high clearance, and that you are fully prepared with extra fuel, safety equipment, water and provisions.

Northern Territory Tourism Commission (09) 303 2207