With
SKV sporting a new windscreen free of stars and a running crack. Getaway all
sorted for the next 60,000 kms on her new tyres plus all the little maintenance
jobs that awaited ‘dock time’ – like
replacing the cracked window frame enabling us to open the window again on hot
days, we were A for away. We just needed to find open spaces! School holidays
and an upcoming long weekend pulled us up short time and again along Queensland’s
coastline. Never mind that we were trying NOT to be in the thick of it on the expensive
and well packed beach fronts where, as we know too well, Queensland’s fine weather lures those from South
Australian, Victoria and New South Wales at this time of year.
Last
month, Cousin Alison left a detailed map of the Great Sandy National Park in
our possession after her visit to Rainbow Beach. It was an area we were keen to
see and turned our nose north in that direction. A quick phone call to Pomona
Showgrounds ascertained they had plenty of space and we were delighted to draw
in there at last light to hear kookaburras chortling in welcome. Picturesque, spacious grounds kept us there
two nights and again, on our return south.
Overlooking the Pamona show ring and another volcanic plug rising up in the background- lovely!
World
Heritage listed Fraser Island forms the greater part of Great Sandy National
Park and we had crossed at Hervey Bay to visit this huge sand island five years
ago. It was time to explore the mainland component at the southern end of the
Great Sandy National Park. We followed quieter roads that wound through lush
green hills to Lake Cootharaba. We found Boreen Point chock-a-block with
campers and wondered whether to risk a look at Elanda Point up the north side
of the lake. Thankfully we did, as this was a well run, huge and spacious
campground in the National Park run privately by Elanda Point Canoe and Motor Boat Company. They conduct 9 canoe,
kayak, motor boat or hiking adventures within the Cooloola section of the Great
Sandy National Park and readily assist DIY adventurers as well. A large open corner overlooking coastal
woodland, well away from the madding crowd, provided us with a perfect site for
the night and we revelled in the largest tract of natural land on Queensland’s
southern coast. Just north of Noosa,
56000 hectares of forest, plains, sand hills, huge lakes and secluded waterways
make up the Cooloola Coast. The Aboriginal name ‘Cooloola’ very suitably means
the soft sounds of breeze whispering in the dune cypress trees. We were always
aware of the whispering trees as we trudged to Mill Point and the elusive Kin
Kin Creek.
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A
bit later, Lea brushed past a bush and thought green ants were simultaneously
stinging her on lip, cheek and arm. She yelped for George to come to her aid. The
little blighters turned out to be tiny wasps!
We’d like to have stayed out at Elanda longer but were mindful we had
folk waiting to hear of our arrival up the coast. We pushed on along the lesser
used roads which took us up steep and sharply curved inclines and across some
gravel.
Outside Goomboorian we found Standown Caravan
Park. As perhaps the name implies, “Standown” caters for Veterans and over 50’s
and we found it a most pleasant spot with plenty of bird life. Mag- wheels were
attracting noisy miners who fought their reflective opponents in the glossy
chrome and we enjoyed their antics. Soon after settling we took off for the
coast. Tin Can Bay, 24kms on, had three
caravan parks with no appeal to us in peak time. The little town overlooks a large,
shallow inlet with mangrove fringed sand flats and is obviously a perfect
location for boating and fishing as these waters are renowned for seafood
catches and sea creature activity. Rare
Indo- Pacific Humpback Dolphins come into Tin Can Bay to be hand-fed and
interact with the public standing in the water between 7 and 10.30 each
morning. Much as we’d liked to have
experienced this close proximity – it wasn’t to be this time. We decided on a
brief look-see at Rainbow Beach before returning to Standown Park. The road in
and out was incredibly busy and, it was slow going on the steep crested hills
without a caravan in tow! Rainbow Beach had one beautifully situated caravan
park with rigs packed in like sardines. Taking the route to the Fraser Island
Barge out on Inskip Point, we discovered a shattering number of tents and
caravans tucked into the coastal bush. Permit controlled by QNP it looked worse
than it probably was and we were amazed at how caravans had managed to get into
some positions. Definitely not for us, particularly over a long weekend! Carlo Point had another camping possibility.
There, we found an outwardly pleasant looking caravan park fully booked for the
next fortnight. Alison’s friends Bruce and Tammy Newham lived inland from Carlo
Point and we called by on the off chance. They were there, sitting on their
door step overlooking the road and we made our acquaintance. Bruce is one of
the barge drivers plying the short crossing to Fraser Island every ten minutes
throughout the day. His detail of 700 vehicles per day, presently coming and going
between the island impacted on us and much as we’d like to spend time here,
even Tammy and Bruce’s kind offer to park our rig on their lawn failed to induce
us. The massive Carlo Sand blow and the
72 different sand hues to be found along Rainbow Beach would have to wait more
favourable timing.
We
pondered long and hard whether to stay or go from Standown Park on the morrow
as we made the 45 km return journey back to Getaway.
No television reception decided us and we took Maryborough’s back road next
day. We passed a couple of caravan signs some ten to twelve kms towards the
coast before deciding to at least try the third one at Maaroom. It was only 4kms off the road. Another stroke of luck – we found a peaceful
caravan park at the entrance to Maaroom, a rare, good old fashioned and very
well kept hamlet of privately owned holiday homes, mostly locked up. The
caravan park had a row of ‘permanents’ along the back of the property with
five caravan sites in the front to cater
for touring caravans overlooking a bit of parkland suitable for tents. ALL were empty and we took up two nights! By evening, we had a wretched zip-bang kombi
camper beside us (fortunately came late and left early next day). A small tent
city developed further away with boats parked down the road side. Four hundred metre down the road , the only
other sign of life were a few parked vehicles with empty boat-trailers around
the central piece de resistance - the boat ramp and public park. Other than the
odd rogue sand fly able to inflict a trail of itch silently and speedily, it
was a great spot for us.
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We
were through to Childers sooner than expected and as we hadn’t had an e-mail
response from Woodgate Beach Caravan Park we pulled into Childers Caravan Park
conveniently situated on a spacious sounding 67 acres out on the Woodgate Beach
Road. As so often happens – after many quiet weeks a diary goes manic and this
was occurring for Jim and Jilly Greenwood. We decided to rush down to Woodgate
the next day and squeeze in a quick visit with them. Jim was at home recovering
from serious spinal operations while Jilly was involved in a market stall. We’d camped at the Woodgate Caravan Park with
Saxon, Paul and 14mth old Talia in October 2008 and our voices had carried into
the caravan alongside us. The Greenwoods recognised the accents and came out
and introduced themselves as fellow African immigrants! Arrangements were made
to meet up again in Somerset West early 2009 – unfortunately on arrival in the
Strand, Jim suffered an almost fatal infection of Golden Staphylococcus aureus.
By the time we arrived on our grandchildren round in the March – Jim had been
evacuated back to Australia. He was incredibly lucky and yet it has been an ongoing
uphill struggle to regain his health. They sold their home on the Gold Coast
and built a charming new place at Woodgate.
Being
in two minds whether to go inland from Childers or visit Burrum Heads – Jim was
quick to recommend the Heads and in
particular Flame Lily Adventure Park
on the Burrum River and promptly called up Kathy Swan and introduced George
over the phone. As the name of the park implied – these were ex Zimbabweans.
The road between Childers and Howard didn’t take us long and Flame Lily
Adventures was another 10kms out on the Burrum Heads road. Knowing the Swan’s
had just completed a busy holiday season with a day’s grace before the new term
of children’s adventure camps began we felt it was too early to pull in there
and continued out to the Heads.
Jimmy and Kathy Swan have an interesting home
set high with rolling lawns down to the Burrum River. On their property behind
the house they have set up an African themed Park centred around a man-made 11
acre stretch of water with three land linked islands – one of which has 3
cabins with more to come in time, on the other islands. A small caravan and
camping area serves as another form of accommodation purely for outdoor
enthusiasts interested in spending a few days taking part in the many
activities on offer. Another major part of the infrastructure established by Jimmy
is an Assault Course with a 10 metre Tower for Para and abseiling descents,
skydiving, rock climbing plus a ‘Flying Fox’ or pho-phi slide as we called it as kids! There is also a 5km running
or cycling track with mountain bikes to hire if required. A military styled
camp overlooks the Commando Course to which mainly school groups come and stay
for an adventure packed, team building experience. A white sandy ‘beach in the bush’ has been set up on
the edge
of the recreational lake
where folk can cool down with a swim or kayak. Between the house and the
adventure park a farm animal enclosure. We met a few of the inmates in there –
no photo of the poor hobbling Turkey-Tom who’d almost been taken out by a fox
though! Nor did we take a pic of Kathy introducing us to the equipment used for
Laser Skirmish - a very popular sport for all ages and occasions! Combatants may
wear army or terrorist camouflage gear... Well suited as an Instructor, Jimmy
draws upon his extensive experience in the Rhodesian Light Infantry and the commercial
security operations he conducted in Malawi, to run a well oiled professional enterprise.
At day’s end, we strolled past the lakeside
heading for ‘sundowners’ with Kathy and Jimmy and his mother Colleen, visiting
from Zimbabwe. Lea became aware of a
very plaintive cry. No birds to be seen she eventually made George stop and
listen as the distressed shrieks seemed even louder. Again and again we scanned the tree tops and
surrounds – nothing. On reaching the road to the homestead a fluttering in the
long grass caught George’s eye. A juvenile black shouldered kite in a stressed
state, flapped in an uncoordinated manner. George crept up closer, took a photo.
He could see no injury. No nest or anxious parents in the vicinity we could
only think it had taken flight prematurely.
We decided to report the matter to the Swan’s. Half an hour later, it was
still there with parents circling up high. Kathy and Jimmy settled the
youngster on a branch but lopsided movement had it back on the ground. Easy
picking for a fox, they brought the very agitated young bird back to their
verandah hospital for safekeeping overnight. These two are well seasoned to
rescuing animals and they suspected damage from the power line. This very
section of power line resulted in a Gympie pilot losing his life in December
2012. His aircraft clipped the power line as he prepared to land in a nearby
field. He was to assist a sky diving company holding a children’s Christmas
celebration at Flame Lily Adventure Park.
Jimmy had been standing with a mob of children below the power line,
expectantly waiting for a sky diving Santa when the dreadful accident occurred.
So much talking and making connections over a wonderful snacks laid on by Colleen that hunger pangs
didn’t alert us to the very late hour before we took our leave.
Colleen
lent Lea her copy of Dare to Live - Trust
Yourself written by Diane Carter overnight. Once she began reading she was
unable to close the book until she reached the end well into the night. Di had
been at Teacher’s College with Lea and at our wedding. We’d kept in touch for
many years until contact was lost as a result of one too many moves during the
Kwa Zulu Natal years. After a life time fear of ‘vulnerability’ when it came to
sleeping in the open or walking the wild places of Africa with her family;
listening to their jesting accusations of being a useless grand-daughter of a
pioneer and girl guide; Lea’s friend Di became the personification of her ‘bush
nightmare’. Camping in the Mana region of Zimbabwe with her daughters and their
families, a hyena pulled a sleeping Diane off a stretcher by her head. Crunching
bones and a dreadful odour awoke Diane to a shocking reality. Her screams and
struggles caused the hyena to release her, leaving a family to deal with a
traumatic episode, hours from help. Di
was lucky to escape with her life, thanks to a hand over her eyes protecting her
brain. She suffered the loss of an eye with damaged hand and ear. ADVERSITY -
physically, mentally and emotionally (all should be in capital letters) were thrown full force in her direction over
ensuing years, yet Diane overcame each and every one with her mind-blowing and overwhelming
positivity. In Zimbabwe last year we’d learnt of Di’s immigration to Queensland
and her book reminded us. We immediately sent off an e-mail.
From
the Burrum River back to Pamona and Pine Rivers Showgrounds in turn, we were on
the final leg of our 5 and a half month Queensland sojourn.
Stroke
of luck, Di and her new husband Tony had literally just returned from a trip to
Africa and they lived off the M1 Gateway route we were taking south out of
Brisbane. We were assured our rig wouldn’t be hemmed in within their retirement
village and we stopped by for lunch. The intervening years fell away and the
clock, ever relentless, reminded us to hit the road if we were to have a new
roost before nightfall.
‘Hyena
Lady’ as Di has come to be known, is actively engaged as a motivational speaker
in her retirement. Like a cork she has bobbed up through many personal ordeals
to find happiness with Tony.
Leaving
Gateway and the coast, we turned inland on the Lindesay Highway into the
fittingly named Scenic Rim region. A mountainous rim across the horizon gently
rolling downwards towards us increased our interest in the Border Ranges that
we somehow missed Amberley. Further on, we found ourselves a pleasant site in Beau
Desert showgrounds. We’d no sooner left Beau Desert next morning when we were
shaken to have a Ute pull up beside George’s window and hear shouts of “pull
over “ and more adamantly “Pull over’”!
Fortunately, it was convenient to do so immediately. The Ute dropped
back off the wrong side of the road and a line of heavy traffic swished passed
us before a man with a heavy limp approached, apologising for frightening us.
He had given chase after spotting our caravan door swinging open - not knowing
how far we’d travelled without anyone bringing it to our attention! Wearing a
tee-shirt emblazoned with Cape York Peninsula map of the Telegraph Track, we discovered Richard had accomplished that in
June. The same time we’d been visiting. And his limp was the result of badly
torn leg muscles on the last day of completing the equally notorious Creb Track. Despite being a very windy
day nothing was too disturbed within the caravan. A moment’s aberration had led
to George failing to lock the door! Boonah showgrounds looked bleak in the hot
windy conditions and we decided to seek out a better place at Lake
Moogerah. That entailed some to and
fro-ing much to the bemusement of a road working team before we were directed
to a campground. There, we found we had no water in our tanks but fortunately
our jerry-can saved the day. We assumed we’d used all the water without a
refill over the past two weeks.
We parked out of the wind on the edge of Lake Moogerah where pelicans, moorhens, cormorants, black swans and stilts added to the scene particularly when the fish eating species put on a spectacular display of collective fishing.
On
joining the Cunningham Highway a steep climb took us over the Great Dividing
Range through Cunningham Gap, part of Main Range National Park where the
staccato sounds of a surprising number of Bellbirds rang out from the
rainforest, intermingled with the occasional distinctive call of a whipbird.
The Scarp face of this range provided us with fine views. Soon after the New England/Cunningham junction
George pulled into a large Service Station to find water. In refilling tanks
and cans George noticed water spreading out from under the ‘van. A fractured
pipe required ‘MacGyver’s’ immediate attention. George repaired the pipe and replenished
water before we made for Lake Leslie and the Washpool Camping Reserve, west of
Warwick.
Towards evening Lea was amused when a
kangaroo loped narrowly passed a bloke deeply engrossed in a book. Even before
he had time to register what had flashed past a back up of roos bounded across
his space startling him even more. Nothing like being unexpectedly caught in a
Kangaroo stampede while peacefully reading outside a caravan!
Instead of continuing along the
Cunningham Highway to Goondiwindi we backtracked to Warwick and returned to the
highlands or Granite Belt region (the chilly part of Queensland and we
certainly became aware of colder climes at evening time) as arrangements have
been made to meet Richard and Karin Bennett on the Mole River. They were given
our blog address by mutual friends Andy and Loraine Tribe from Kwa Zulu Natal.
Soon after our trip to the Outback, Richard made contact and offered us a
parking spot on their property outside Lismore. Casino was amazingly close last
month, only they were away on a Canadian/Alaska trip. Recently returned,
Richard again made contact and with a bit of tweaking he has managed to tie in
with our meanderings. We will be camping together over the weekend. With days
to spare, we returned to Glen Aplin’s Country
Style Accommodation Park for a couple of nights with the intention of
visiting Girraween National Park. Paula Baxter had recommended an outing to
Bald Rock and Castle Rock; not too far off from Glen Aplin.
Arriving in Girraween National Park we
had a brief view of the granite dome rising out of the dry forest. On arrival
we found it was The Pyramid. We’d been misled by Bald Rock Creek Camping
ground. Not quite where we expected to be but since we were there we decided to
explore and thoroughly enjoyed a walk across the granite based Bald Rock Creek
to wind our way along paths through blackbutt and stringybark forest that
soared upwards amidst granite boulders giving rise to an inner nostalgia for a
birth land and life as a youth climbing granite kopjies. Not to mention a
father who loved the shadows of trees on rocks.
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With
instructions on how to find the Bald Rock National Park over the border in New
South Wales we continued to Tenterfield and made a quick stop at the VIC. We
wanted to know why Tenterfield was the ‘Birthplace of our Nation’. The good
lady there supplied us with plenty of information and we headed on out to the
group of National Parks that back onto Queensland’s Girraween. Not sure of
timing we skipped Basket Swamp NP and went to the next along the road, Boonoo
Boonoo NP in order to see the Boonoo Boonoo Falls. A point of interest to us was the historical
property Boonoo Boonoo at the turn off to the NP. It once belonged to Major J F
Thomas until he died there 11 November 1942. However, this man is better known
for coming to the defence of Breaker Morant during the South African War in
1902. And, as a lover of flora and fauna it is believed he brought the first
Gerbera flower (what we called Barberton Daisies) into Australia from South
Africa. As we twisted up the gravel road to the falls we glimpsed the river
snaking its way across the New England Tableland before it was to fall 210m
into the gorge below. The series of cascades made it difficult to capture its
full extent on camera.
We
could barely wait for our first view of Bald Rock as we’d read “Distracted by the beauty of Uluru, many
Australians are unaware of its equally impressive cousin, Bald Rock, the
largest granite rock in the country”. Coming from Africa we have an intense
affinity to huge granite domes. Consequently when we read a claim in the NP visitor
guide “It is the largest exposed granite
rock in the Southern Hemisphere” we considered that misleading... We sort
of expected Bald Rock to loom out of the landscape, it didn’t. And, taking the
more gentle 3 km climb on the southern slopes towards the summit we found
ourselves tracking through tall eucalypt forest, granite archways and large
boulders with rock lilies growing on top. This made it very difficult to equate
‘apples with apples’ when it came to discerning exposed size in comparison to
other inselbergs we know in Southern Africa. It was only when we broke out of
the forest onto the northern face that the full extent and appreciation of Bald
Rock begin to evolve.
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An
example – Part of the Mariri Inselberg in its distant glory, is to be found in
the Niassa Reserve of northern Mozambique.
We
returned from a wonderful day out in National Parks of Queensland and New South
Wales to be met with the news of over 90 horrifying fires sweeping across the
Great Dividing Range in the Sydney vicinity, all closely associated with the intensely
hot, windy conditions being experienced. The imagery on TV easily translated
itself to the dry habitat we’d enjoyed that day and brought home the ease in
which so much devastation occurs. The weather forecast thunder storms for our
area. We thought they had that wrong as we’d seen nothing but blue skies with
mere remnants of candy floss cloud all day. An hour later drops of rain began
pitter-patting on our roof and a steady soft rain kept up all night. A most
welcome and perfect rainfall for a dehydrated earth!
Good
bye Queensland! We crossed the state border for the second time in as many days
and settled in the Tenterfield Showgrounds; a block from the main street and
overlooking a pretty creek. Grey clouds filled the sky and we decided to
explore town sooner rather than later.
We walked the length of town with ease and learned much about this
historic town where an eloquent Sir Henry Parkes delivered an impassioned plea
for a strong and united Australia in October 1889 calling for a union of the
five colonies of Australia. Thus Tenterfield claims itself as the “Birthplace
of our Nation” and bows before this early politician with a disreputable
reputation. However he sullied his name he still managed to serve as the NSW
State Premier five times and play a strong role in politics so the old rogue had
been an interesting character.
Of
greater interest was “The Boy from Oz”.
We have oft heard this musical and the name Peter Allen bandied about and
enjoyed the music knowing nothing more, until Tenterfield enlightened us! Peter
Woolnough - The Boy from Oz was born in Tenterfield in 1944 and from a very young
age became a popular entertainer around his hometown. Down the years he formed
a duo with another artiste, Chris Bell. They called themselves “The Allen
Brothers” and began to travel outside Australia. Their success was noticed by
Judy Garland. The Allen Brothers were hailed as “Stars of Tomorrow” and by 1967
they were on the Johnny Carson Tonight Show.
Peter was married for a short time to Judy’s daughter Lisa Minnelli and
is best remembered for his popular brash, camp music shows on the Cabaret
circuit. However his lasting legacy must be his many award winning songs – We
mention just a few like the emotionally moving I still call Australia Home not to mention I Honestly love You performed by Olivia Newton-John and his
rollicking happy song I Go To Rio. Yet,
we learned that Tenterfield Saddler –
a tribute song he wrote about his much loved grandfather, George Woolnough took
Tenterfield to the international stage and made it a Mecca for Peter’s fans. Offhand
we don’t think we know it and at first opportunity will listen intently to the
words that accurately record his grandfather George’s “fifty-two years he sat on his verandah making saddles” along with
other milestones in Peter’s life. During the time we were engrossed in history
and looking around a ‘Christmas Shop’ – it began to rain and we had to make a
dash for the showgrounds in wet and chilly weather. By nightfall, the
temperature had dropped considerably and we nervously contemplated a weekend
sitting out in the cold and wet!
Fear
not! On awaking next morning we discovered we were an hour late! We’d forgotten
that clocks go forward in NSW. Most importantly the sun was out. Richard had
emailed through precise directions and we found Mole Station’s beautiful
private camp-site overlooking the Mole River with ease. Karen Bennet and Gay
Johnson came out to greet and introduce themselves. Their husbands were out
fishing in their kayaks. Mole River Camp was a most picturesque spot made all
the better by its privacy. Station
owners David and Sarah allow a group at a time. The Bennett’s and Johnson’s
thoroughly enjoy time out here fishing from their kayaks. Turned out we had met
Richard and Karin long ago at the Tribe’s home, back in South Africa. Their
memory had placed them one jump ahead thanks to George having made roasted snacks
out of the numerous flying ants that particular evening! Mark and Karin work
together in the Regional National Park offices and the two couples travel
Australia together. In next to no time we felt at home with all of them,
enjoying conversation and the environs of Mole River Station.
Sarah
popped over from the homestead further down river and invited us over for
Sunday morning ‘smoko’. Aside from cattle and sheep, the Caldwell’s have
developed a wonderful Native Plant Nursery. Four Botanists from Armadale had
arrived for the weekend (staying in a guest cottage) to collect a big order of
plants. Richard and Mark went fishing and the rest of us went off for tea and
delicious scones straight out of the oven in the homestead garden with hills
rolling in from every direction. George helped the botanists pack and load all
the plants – well over 400. Delightful folk the Caldwell’s and we were
reluctant to leave their lovely station as was Richard. The three of us
requested another night. Mark left his canoe for George to use and the ‘taxpaying
workers’ left on their three hour plus journey home, after an early lunch.
George enjoyed the pleasures of kayaking the river while fishing for yellow
belly with Richard - no bites mind you. Lea relaxed in camp reading her book
and observing nature especially the white winged choughs bathing. Their noises
mingled with a ‘warning’ call from Sarah (in case I was naked!) She was out on
her evening constitutional walk. We both lost sense of time chatting away until
Richard and George rolled in. Daylight
saving keeps the sun up until well after 7 p.m.
Plenty
Platypus live in the river and although we hadn’t seen them – we were
determined to do so before we departed. Richard was away fishing at an unearthly
dawn hour for us and as soon as George was awake he was off to seek out a
platypus. He spotted two and rushed back
to alert a sleepy head. Dawn and dusk are the best time to see these nocturnal
and unique creatures with their bizarre bodies ideally suited to their semi- aquatic
lifestyles. Mark and Richard had seen them frolicking curiously around their
kayaks. The two we were to observe from a high cliff edge were far too busy
foraging. The rising sun blinded our vision and interfered with sightings in
between the bushes. In frustration, Lea went further upstream and returned
along a well concealed bank edge and there had close underwater views of
duck-like bills or broad, paddle-like tails acting as a rudder as they dived
deeper amongst the rocks and logs sending out fine plumes of silt. She was rarely
to see the ghostly outline of a platypus as it rummaged along the river edge.
Nothing good enough for a photo!
It
would have been a very steep climb out of Mole River Station. However, as we
were heading west Richard suggested we follow the Mole River through the valley
and come out further down the Bruxner Highway – we did and thoroughly enjoyed a
lovely drive through different Stations and rural scenery. We made for Lake
Glenlyon. We thought we’d said goodbye to Queensland but our travels that day
had us back and forth over the border between NSW and QLD a couple of times.
The lake was in Queensland and, we’d been spoilt! The sight of all the caravans
tightly clustered together, well back from the water was not for us. We
continued across the dam wall into the surrounding hills along the steep, less
travelled and lonely dirt road back into NSW to find the Bonshaw Weir. This
small bush camp had two sets of caravans parked in optimal positions with
little room for us other than against the back fence line. We decided to move
on to Texas – just because the name appealed! Back across the border into QLD,
it proved to be a quaint town with wide open free-camping available along the
banks of the Dumaresq River. Plenty of room for key word ‘self-contained units’ which we had read up to mean separate tanks
that caught grey and black water to ensure no contamination of the environment.
Many free camps are steadily going that way. We grudgingly departed to see the
caravan park. Again, many caravan parks are predominantly given over to
‘permanents’ and the left-over sites are small and unattractive. We’d loved to
have wandered around this western cowboy looking town with its Historical
Rabbit Processing Works (this is the State that will fine you $30,000 for
possessing a bunny!) and a Heritage Centre that traced the establishment and
demise of the Texan tobacco era. Both
were closed and we returned to the Bruxner Highway and continued westwards. The
very rough edges of these inland roads are still as ghastly as we remember as we
bounced along the uneven tarmac.
Well
past lunch hour we pulled up at Yetman and liked what we saw. A delightful and
tiny council caravan park tucked in behind the tennis court and green
sportsground overlooking a back channel of the Macintyre River. This is part of
the mighty river, brother-in-law Keith Bell grew up beside, further along at
Goondiwindi. It is also the river that confused us no end as it changes names
three times - Macintyre becomes the Barwon and then the Darling before joining
the Murray. One caravan had been there two weeks the other was just setting up when
George enquired about payment. We were startled to learn the council charged
$10 per night per site with power, a smart ablution block with free use of washing
machine. Heaven for folk on the road! By mid-afternoon temperatures had soared
to 37’C and air-conditioning brought relief. The Riverine forest was full of birds,
particularly Channel-billed Cuckoos and
Koels with such strident calls that it became quite disturbing at times. Especially as Lea could hear reverberating miaows
intermingled with crazed bird sounds rising out of the river bed, even over the
sound of the aircon. George was oblivious! Infuriatingly, the cat sound stopped
whenever he went outside for a better listen! He insisted it was not a cat-bird
area and nor would cats terrorise breeding
Channel Bill’s or Koel’s as these
migrant birds parasitize the nests of numerous Australian birds. Agitated Channel- billed cuckoos and cat mewing
were to awaken Lea on a few occasions during the night too.
All
was cleared up next day by Iris the cleaner! A caravan cat went missing and
despite searching for a week with no sign, the sad owners departed. Eventually,
the cat reappeared and the caretaker leaves a bit of food on his property
boundary for the nervy feline. Trap-shy feral cats live in the reed choked
river bed and the caravan cat had been seen with young kittens. Yesterday, our
neighbours saw the last kitten taken by a raptor hence the distressed mother
roamed back and forth amongst the thickets ‘wailing’. The next oil and filter
change for SKV was due. George was unable to get a service done by the local mechanic
– he phoned Goondiwindi. Our thinking had been to remain in Yetman with its
fine facilities until the appointment came round but it only gave us another
night. – A much quieter one at that as normality was restored amongst the river
gums.
Almost
seventy kms down the road in Goondiwindi, we took up a site in River Gums
Caravan Park perfectly centralised for all our requirements. Booked for blood pathology
tests early next morning before SKV’s service and attempted to satisfy our
yearnings for a good movie! The most accommodating was ‘Gravity’. Although it gave us relief from the day’s high
temperature we found it very disappointing. Just too dramatic and noisy! Sirens in the afternoon caused some
consternation until we learnt it was the fire brigade and fortunately the close
to 40’C heat was followed by a bit of speckled rain and cloudy skies that night
with a far cooler day to follow.
Harking
back to the Diamantina River outside Birdsville where we met the two men “doing
the corners” and Charleville where we gained an new interest in “Corners” – we
were setting out West to accomplish our first corner – The Gregory/ Greaves
one! Leaving Goondiwindi we headed further westwards into the
cotton / wheat growing areas of northern NSW (flat expanses of empty cotton
fields on the low lying black soil country and yellow expanses of wheat stubble
on the red soils in higher lying areas) hoping to find Boomi (which came with
Grey Nomad recommendations and a brochure with an artesian spa the prime
attraction) would appeal and keep us for a few days. Despite a concerted effort
made by the community to attract visitors our lasting impression was half-dead,
flat and very desiccated! A scruffy looking assemblage of derelict buildings;
aggressively barking pig dogs confined to cages in a back yard; a sign saying
the town water was undrinkable; the remains of old trucks rusting away in the
outback – We found all this at the end of a nasty 80 km sealed road (respite
came towards the middle, where long overdue road works were underway). Residents
appear to actively follow mud racing
as we saw many dirty saloon cars with chains, thick with mud, on back tyres and
a competitor number prominent on the roof tops. Many were clustered outside the
house where the dogs were. Speed limit and very poor road conditions in the
main street had numerous road trains rumbling noisily past our small patch of
bare earth which constituted the caravan park. It was so ludicrous we were
actually forced to laugh (mouths closed in case bush flies shot in!). Luckily
it wasn’t nearly as hot as it could have been and we were able to enjoy an hour
of relaxation in the artesian pool – not another soul around other than the lady
superintendent. Aside from the Artesian pools and their surrounds of green
artificial grass there were two other pockets of normality: the well kept and
watered little State school with chook pen and veggie gardens and a Heritage
Park attached to an old community hall providing a colourful playground amidst
dryness. Interesting was the Wagon and Steam Engine Tribute to the Past
furnishing the names of surrounding Stations, their identifying brand and a history
of ownership.
Many
road trains were traversed the dirt road to Mungindi. We decided to head back
into QLD and take another route to Mungindi hopefully via a lesser known
road. We were amazed to find a good tarred
road (obviously upgraded since our map was printed) and we arrived in Mungindi
in good time. And why were we so determined to come this way – it was to reach
the Greaves/Gregory Corner, better known as the One Ton Post on the Queensland / New South Wales border! The town of Mungindi on the Barwon River (which
up until now had formed the boundary between the two States) was fresh looking with
homes looking loved - just as they did in Talwood. George popped into the Roadhouse to ask for a
mud map to One Ton Post. She had no
idea.... Had never heard of it... which flabbergasted George! A Truckie, just
pulled in, was able to direct George to a sign he’d seen near the Two Mile
Hotel! A six km trip from Mungindi, very well signposted all the way had us reach
The Corner on 25th October.
Having imagined it to be one of those “impossible to get to” spots we entered a pretty bush picnic spot at the
end of the dirt track to have our eyes fall on an Old Fencer’s Hut, his dunny
to the left and to the right, the famous “post” beneath a little shelter with
its history. Despite their vulnerable positions on the banks of the Barwon
River, they have withstood the test of time. An atmosphere of tranquilly translated
into us staying for lunch, then supper and overnight. Large sheds, on the boundary indicated a
farming workshop of sorts. Any sounds emanating from there had halted by late
afternoon.
One Ton Post makes an interesting story and relates
to plotting the 29th parallel of latitude as the Inter Colonial
Boundary between Queensland and New South Wales. Up to this point the
Macintyre/Barwon River had provided the border line. In 1865, two appointed surveyors
by the name of Gregory (surveyor general from Qld) and Greaves (his counterpart
from NSW) met at Mungindi and “fixed the position” of the corner by placing steel pins within a triangle of three
trees (marked A, B & C). It wasn’t until 1879 that plotting of the 29th
parallel was continued by surveyors George Watson (from Qld) and John Cameron
(from NSW). These men met at Barringun and began plotting the position of the
border westwards in conditions of flood and drought until some disagreement
caused Watson to withdraw. Cameron, the younger of the two, continued and reached
the South Australia border some 12 months later. He returned to Barringun and began
marking the eastwards section until he reached the Barwon River 3 miles west of
Mungindi, in October 1881. He celebrated the event by placing a one ton post on the bank of the river.
One
of the original steel pegs set by Gregory was discovered in 1983 as well as the
“B tree”. The tree had fallen down and, for a while housed in the Surveyor
General’s museum in Brisbane. It was later returned to Mungindi and placed on
display, together with “Gregory’s pin” on site inside another small corrugated
hut. At evening time we walked up to the shelter that contained the remnants of
the ‘B tree’ and the steel peg before taking a track out to the last mile peg Cameron had set before
reaching “the corner”. And, following in his footsteps, followed the 29th
parallel back to camp wondering how he had felt at this point 132 years ago!
Are we hooked on Corners? Yes! We are determined to see another Corner when we
can.
Download
from Google of the area surrounding One Ton Post.
This
whole NW region is characterised by massive expanses of wheat and cotton fields
all levelled mechanically; interrupted by low embankments of dried mud edging
canals or ditches that dissect the land. We also noticed raised earthen banks
with eroded gullies (very like the dykes of the Netherlands) which we thought were the result of the land being
laser levelled. We soon discovered these were huge impoundments or dams. Far
larger than the Turkey Nest dams we’d
seen on the Darling and Southern Downs of Queensland. The regular occurrence of
dams, irrigation canals and siphons brought the realisation of just how much
water is being extracted from the region’s rivers. A significant amount wasted through
evaporation and infiltration in this dry heat with winds blowing across vast
expanses kicking up dust. The heat haze shimmering across the horizon contrasts
with the scattered snow like cotton debris aligning the road. The pity of this
is man’s litter made obvious in a landscape of scrubby dry grass between the
road and cultivated land. We never see the culprits yet it ‘grows’ out there -
wretched plastic bottles and cans. A
good gravel road took us through to Collarenebri where its Primitive Campground
proved to be a formalised dusty patch, devoid of trees next to the football
grounds. The Barwon River wasn’t far off but no camping in its immediate
vicinity so we left for Burren Junction on a sealed road that again had our rig
lurching over patched and uneven surfaces – the dominant condition of NSW country
roads.
Three
kms east of the scrappy little town we stopped at the large open, free camp Burren Junction Baths Reserve. Thanks to
the Labor Government Nation Building Stimulus Fund the artesian bore had been
turned into an attractive amenity with toilet block, safety fence, wind
protection and picnic tables. Spring has proved hotter than usual. Travellers have
scarpered to cooler climes so these rather bleak treeless areas out west with
artesian bores are no longer a big drawcard for grey nomads. We happily spent
two nights parked in the furthest corner overlooking ditches that appeared to
receive overflow. Egrets and a spoonbill waded in these shallow waters rather
than the lakes on either side of the campground. Trees had been planted along
the camp boundaries with a few smaller ones in our particular corner. A sign on
a tap requested water for the little trees and we happily obliged. Television
reception provided the ultimate comfort of a good free-camp.
Travelling
new roads wherever we can, decisions are more often made by our attraction to town
names...In 2011 we missed out on Wee Waa as we zig-zagged NSW. This time as we
zagged back east we were on track and spent a couple of nights in Wee Waa
Showgrounds. Many, many buses and motorhomes drove into the grounds shortly
after us and we learned that over a thousand of them had just completed an RV
Rally in Narrabri, so in comparison not so many! Grey nomads moving around in
gigantic buses with trailers attached are a different breed! Wee Waa (the oldest town on the Namoi River)
began as a centre of justice and regional supplies for early settlers. During
the 1960’s two experienced American cotton farmers brought their knowledge and
techniques to the area and cotton grew into a major industry turning Wee Waa into
Australia’s Cotton capital and transformed the environment. We decided to see out
October in the Wee Waa vicinity – two nights in the showgrounds and two nights at
Yarrie Lake. We were confined to our ‘cabin’ most of the next day as strong
gusty winds blew grey storm clouds from west to east across the big sky.
Fortunately took their damage and hail further east and on the coast. In a
region so flat with the River Namoi running through, the showground has flood
protection levees running its length along the river. We even noticed the Wee
Waa cemetery was encircled in flood berms as we made our way to Yarrie Lake.
After the noisy bluster of winds morning, noon and night yesterday it was good
to have calm and quiet isolation alongside the water. This 3km saucer shaped
lake is thought to have been formed by a falling meteorite thousands of years
ago. Its surrounds provides a delightful flora and fauna Reserve for recreation.
That evening we walked the perimeter of the shallow lake, mostly a strange
beige colour as a result of suspended silt. Having almost completed the loop we
unexpectedly came upon the outlet – as wide as a river. Earlier in the day George
had told Lea that the fringing beach sands rapidly changed into thick muddy
conditions as the water grew deeper and she baulked at the thought of having to
cross here. She’d learned a valuable lesson at the Gascoyne River asking George
to give her a piggy-back over a very shallow stream to avoid getting her shoes
wet; anyway he certainly wasn’t waiting for any requests! Over he
charged, unbalanced only a couple of times and merely wet the ends of his long
shorts! With shoes and socks left on she began to wade gingerly across – peering
anxiously through murky water she veered off track and found herself in deeper
water with her heavy feet slithering in the squishy mud. The chilled water level
crept up her legs and as she reached the deepest section the unexpected
depressions had her lurching around precariously – no walking stick to steady
her.
“Stop
taking bloody photos and come and HELP me”!
Thankfully
he did, as the water rose to her middle and her water logged shorts threatened
to fall off as she ‘squealed’ all the way home. 
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