I had met Barry on a previous trip. A real good bloke. Barry had a barrel chest, forearms you could not jump over and he always wore a khaki shirt, RM Williams jeans and boots and an enormous hat with diesel fuel stains and what looked like a bullet hole through the top. Barry was a born and bred North Queenslander. A contractor which meant he would contract to do almost any job a cow cocky wanted. Build a fence, sink a dam, drill a bore. Barry was also a big part of The Bush Telegraph.  

Barry saw me and sauntered over, cocking his hat and drawling, “wanna beer”?

We got talking and he told me the story he had learned from an old hermit up Borroloola way about how Cloncurry got its name.

There was a family in Alaska in the early 1800s called Clondyke. Hugo and Fatima Clondyke and their 5 children lived in on the shores of the Arctic Ocean. Hugo used to gather the oil up and sell it to the Inuit for cooking and heating.  

Hugo Clondyke decided that there was no future in selling oil. He heard of the gold rush in the Northern Territory of Australia and decided that is where the family would go. The Clondykes placed all their worldly goods in the wagon, and hitched up Robinson, their horse. They had not travelled far when Robinson dropped dead in his harness. The Clondykes decided the spot where Robinson fell down dead would be called Dead Horse Robinson. The place became known as Dead Horse and is still called this today. The Clondykes were so distressed about Robinson that they decided to take certain parts of him with them to Australia. These were removed from the carcass and stored in a tin box. The Clondykes set sail across the Pacific to Australia in May 1846.

The journey was uneventful except for the ramblings of one Reverend Mr R N Nicolson. The Reverend preached daily and was drawn to Hugo Clondyke. He saw him as a worthy target for his congregation in Australia. With his wife and five children, he made an excellent choice as a start to the Nicolson flock. 

The Reverend said Hugo’s name could be a barrier to his progress in Australia. Hugo agreed to drop “dyke” from his name and it was announced at Sunday prayers the Clondyke family would henceforth be known simply as Clon.

The Clons made landfall in Australia and prepared for their journey north into Queensland and across to NT’s Pine Creek Goldfields. Months later in western Queensland Hugo saw a man with a donkey, his name was Long Timen Sun. They became firm friends and Sun took over all of the laundry and cooking duties. 

In January 1849 the Clons came upon a mighty river in full flood. A small band of travellers had congregated on its eastern bank to wait for the water to recede. The Clons joined themy and realising they would be at this location for some time, set about establishing a comfortable camp site. At one end Long Timen Sun placed his camp kitchen and laundry.

At the end of the second week supplies were getting low. Hugo Clon had little luck on his hunting excursions and Long Timen Sun was having trouble scrapping together food. Then he came across the tin box containing parts of Robinson. While it had a strong odour, he thought it was a marinade Fatima Clon had made and tipped the whole lot of it into the curry he was preparing for the evening meal.

Hugo and Fatima and the five Clon children tucked into the evening meal and all seven of them were found stone cold dead in their beds the next morning. 

The small group gathered together on the banks of that swollen river to bury the Clon family and as a tribute to them, all agreed that henceforth that place would be known as Cloncurry.

And that, according to Barry, is how the town got its name.

Ray Swann