Day 9 Birdsville - Windorah - Charleville - Toowoomba

I was up early for a shower pre-dawn and to pack. We arranged to meet for breakfast just after 7 and about 20 past Andrew texted to let us know they were already at the bakery. We wandered over pausing only to admire the wonderful sunrise as we went. Breakfast was a quick affair and then we made our plans for the last day. We were keen to track north along the channel country for a spell and take in the effects of the record breaking wet season one more time. We didn't need to land at Windorah and so we just used it as a marker of pretty country enroute to Charleville where we would eat and refuel and leave the Walkers.

Birdsville really lived up to its name on take-off and as we taxied out together we found the runway covered with a huge flock of hawks. Resilient buggers they just refused to disperse. The runway was long, however, and so I radioed Andrew and suggested he taxi through them and power up for take off on the other side. We all adopted the plan and as each aircraft burst through them they recomposed themselves as a tight bunch for the next. We all got through it without a strike though and then we were away climbing at full power in the morning air and heading for the channel country. We followed the Diamantina as it spread itself wide tracking north east to Monkira, though we would not follow it that far.

The Diamantina formed channel country every bit as splendid as the Cooper and it spread wide in virulent forms of green which waxed fluorescent under the low sun. We wandered along it for the best part of  30 minutes trading position reports over the numbers in an effort to sight each other. The early sun produced a lot of glare on our current heading and it was not proving an easy task to locate the others.  Still it was a big sky and we were confident we were well clear so we relaxed and enjoyed the wonderful spectacle of the channel country in full riot. It was not unlike that magic day a week ago when we traversed the Cooper  in search of the Dig Tree. The sun threw silver splinters of light into the air to spice up the saturated shades of green. You only had to look a few miles either side to be reminded of the brown palette that normally painted the landscape in these parts.

We found the A team, never far from each other, with the help of the radio. Dots in our nine o'clock and so we rolled left in search of closer company. Andrew was low and soaking up the splendour so we hooked on over the top of him for a photo opportunity of RCN scooting over the shredded river. But it wasn't long before we were forced to leave it and turn east for Windorah. We were still a long way from home and Dustin, Anthony and I had work on the morrow. So we called ourselves clear, powered up and climbed for the high country and some decent cruise performance. When we reached our cruising height we found a wide brown land stretched beneath us. We watched the roads and called the landmarks for those following but there wasn't a lot to note.  When we sighted the distinctive maori tattoos that characterise the channel country south of Windorah we knew we had been reunited with our old friend the Cooper. The others called they were cutting the corner for Charleville and so we rolled on our side for the photographers, and then set our course for the fading jewell of the west.

The only significant landmark en-route was lake Dartmouth which looked more like a low forest in flood than a permanent lake but it was big enough to make an impression even as high as we were. We descended into Charleville's bumpy air in good time and conducted a circuit of the town while another Cessna departed for 'Cunna-mule-a'. I asked him for the active runway and he called the cross strip but it was a bum steer and my flying for the trip ended with the worst landing of the whole show. So it goes.

We all met for the last time at the airport cafe for lunch. What can I say. It is always tough to end a good thing and we were now bonded to each other by shared experience. It was hard to give it up. But the Walkers were staying here for the night to catch up with old friends and so this time ISB and JCU would climb out on their own. Anthony seized the day and decided it was time to go, striding out to the tarmac with purpose.  The rest of us followed. The goodbyes were rushed, as good ones always are, then we climbed aboard JCU one last time and taxied no 2 to the Cherokee for YTWB and home.

It was a nice flight at 7500 feet as the landscape below gradually assumed the familiar forms of the Darling Downs. We passed ISB short and south of Roma but at this altitude the Cherokee was close to our speed and we were never far apart from each other. Cecil Plains once again provided a pretty site with its neat grid of squares and pleasing spread of colour but it could not compare, for me at least, to the country out west. As we approached Oakey we switched to 127.65 and Toowoomba and we all smiled when we heard Tim and Noel from the aeroclub chatting on the radio. Familiar voices in familiar skies and we knew we were home. Dustin made a straight in approach on 11 and taxied up to the hangar. ISB landed just 6 minutes later. Tim met us at the plane and welcomed us all home and we cleaned the old girl out one last time and put her to bed. This adventure was a done deal.