Our plans to
re-visit the Wallaman Falls were disrupted yesterday, and we decided to stay an
extra day in Ingham (Palm Tree CP) especially for Paula to see the highest
single drop falls in Australia. Strangely enough Lea could not recall what they
looked like! After a load of washing was on the line we set off on the 50km
drive inland. Twelve years since our
previous visit and both of us had forgotten just how steep, the ever twisting
climb over the last 15km of the road into the Girringun NP was. Nor had we
remembered that travelling through the rain forest on the crest of the range
gave us a chance of seeing cassowary. Sadly, we did not! However, the view of the 268m high falls was immediately
recalled and was as impressive as ever. Having packed a picnic lunch, we had
time to take a few of the short walks available, enjoy the sight of a brush
turkey lying down with one of its wings held aloft whilst sunning itself like a
chicken; the brief sighting of a Ulysses butterfly with many attempts to
photograph the smaller butterflies like the unusual skipper below.
Now and again, “Life on the Road” can be tiresome, in
fact extremely so … and the second day of September was one of those days as we
searched in vain for a suitable camp site in the vicinity of Townsville in
which to overnight – George needed to locate a branch of the ANZ to establish
why a temporary lock had been placed on our account; Lea wanted to make contact
with Robert Gates, another student from Kariba School – 1968, as part of her
fifty year loop of students living along the East coast of Australia! None of the sites well north of the city,
listed in Camps Australia book were any good. A Townsville run around without a
map had us end up in the city centre and George undertake a hot walk to the
Information Centre. When we did locate a park – it was full. Fed up and frustrated by the whole situation
we eventually drove out of the city towards Ayr, and landed up 4 hours after
leaving Ingham, in a drive through site at the “Bush Oasis” Caravan Park. The otherwise
bad day was offset by the discovery of a tiny brush-tail possum as our evening
walk was drawing to an end. It emerged from below a truck parked beside the
road and made a bee-line for George’s leg – a beautiful little animal with two
big floppy ears. Billabong Animal Sanctuary opposite our Caravan Park had just
closed. Thankfully, staff departing were able to give us the Registered Animal
Carer phone number. A few hours later our little possum was collected and taken
into care. George had lost his heart to the little creature sleeping in his
hat. The carer was able to draw attention to its deformed toes on the back feet
and the near hairless tail suggesting it may have been burned by fire.
Amazingly, messages
to Robert Gates ascertained he worked at the Meat Works south of Townsville, a
few kilometres from our Park and, he was able to call by before his 10 a.m.
start that Monday morning. On his
arrival, the Park Office told him we’d left! Luckily, Lea had decided to walk
up to the security gates and inform the office of a visitor coming.
There she bumped
into Robert, the spit of his father – fifty years later!
The hour passed
all too swiftly as Robert brought us up to speed on his life. Shared his
successes – representing Zimbabwe in spearfishing competitions all over the
world; horrified us with the tale of two
croc attacks he had endured on Lake Kariba ( scars on his leg and arm stood
testament); the huge bream in the lake (nilotica, escapees from the cage
culture venture). His current interest in underwater hockey; his failed marriage
and children scattered out in the world. His Mum, Maureen in an old age home in
Chinoyi. His sister Bev, from my class of 1967, still lives and works in Kariba.
While eldest sister Pamela lives in Townsville too. She was away visiting the
family in Zimbabwe. A most special visit
ended …
Thereafter, we
pushed on towards Ayr and refuelled. An old farmer began chatting there … He’d been
farming sugar cane in the area for 60 years. He soon directed us to an ANZ bank
enabling George to sort out the matter of the temporary lock placed on our bank
account. The country around Ayr and for that matter all the way to Bowen, 100
km to the south, was dry and uninteresting, and rest-areas unappealing. By 2.30
we checked into Wangaratta Caravan Park alongside Queens Beach in Bowen. That
very afternoon Stephanie van Riet (nee
Gibson) – another of the 1968 class in Kariba,
arrived for tea immediately after work
and updated us on her life along with the experiences she and husband
Malcolm had, on arriving in Australia. Alex Gibson, her Dad died the same day
as Justine last year. Her mother Evelyn lives in Hermanus with Joan, her older
sister.
Next morning, before
the day heated up we set off to do the Cape Edgecumbe Walking Trail (a rough,
grade 4 trail along 3km of the coastline). George dropped Lea and Paula in
Horseshoe Bay, at the start of the trail and, as we understood, he was to take SKV
to the end at Rose Bay! He would walk towards us and complete more than the
trail itself in the time it took us with his speed! However, he totally
surprised us with his arrival at Murray Bay. While George continued back to see
the remains of the WW2 radar station and anti-aircraft battery above Murray
Bay, Lea and Paula steadily made their way towards Rose Bay - in no haste,
certain George would catch up. He never
did, despite hanging about at viewpoints. A search around Rose Bay failed to
find SKV parked anywhere. Turned out,
George had driven to the half way point of the trail at Murray Bay where he
says we agreed to meet. How two people misunderstood him was a mystery! George
was left wondering where on earth we’d got to, scrambling up and down the track
trying to locate us! Finally, he drove to Rose Bay- very hot and bothered as we
were successfully reunited. We returned to the most attractive Horseshoe Bay for
a dip in the sea. Paula cooled off in the briny but Lea found it too cold to
venture in.
A natural cairn
above Murray Bay!
Late afternoon
we drove to Brisk Bay (14km south of Bowen) to visit Stephanie and Malcom van
Riet in their lovely beachfront bungalow with large green lawn sweeping down to
sea. Malcolm (retired) and Stephanie regaled us with the cyclone precautions
they take and the building regulations that enable their home to withstand the
forces involved in six cyclones since they built there. Malcolm, a former croc
farmer in Chirundu had moved to Umtata, Transkei, after leaving Zimbabwe. He had
obtained his degree at Natal University and knew several of the ORI staff George
had worked with.
We awoke next
day to a change in the weather (low clouds blowing in from the south) and we
moved on, motoring for 50km into a
strong head wind to find Conway beach (near Proserpine). Uncertain where the
turn off was, we made the mistake of going into Airlie Beach. Since our first
visit in 1995 and again in 200???? , the development was horrific – such a busy commercial centre, packed full of
people, cars, high rise buildings, roundabouts and steep hills, and nowhere to
stop and ask directions until we’d almost reached Shute Bay (on a no through
road). We had to return the way we had come before we found the correct route
through to Conway Beach. To help us on our way it began to rain.
Finally the
colourful Conway Caravan Park. In gentle rain, we tried to guide George into
place. Thankfully George, the owner arrived on a quad and took over… All damp
and cold we were glad to get the kettle on and toasted sandwiches on the
go. The rain confined us, all afternoon.
Just before sunset, with black clouds still overhead, we managed to have a
short walk along the beach. Apart from
being exceptionally pricey, the Conway Beach CP was unusual… It obviously caters
largely for children and families – each and every section of a cabin was
painted a different pastel colour. Same was to be found in the ablution block-
the ice-cream colours abounded in detail. A mighty, time consuming paint job
never mind all the tins of colour required. A large playground and a motorised
train was available for kids to go for a ride around the park twice a day. ‘George’s
Diner’ – decorated in Yankee Doodle style with jute box, image of Elvis,
posters about Route 66 and take away meals. A red vintage van, very American
was parked outside to draw in the holiday makers.
No way would we spend any more time at Conway Beach and we joined back up with the infernal
Bruce Highway with its fast moving lorries and cars; an angry chap yelled at us
as we pulled into the slow lane for travelling too slowly and holding them up. It was a measure of relief to pull off the highway
and take a part gravel short-cut access to Seaforth and its camping reserve. Unfortunately, we found the long, narrow bowled
site far from suitable. Other caravans had levelled themselves in the best
spots. We decided to push on to Ball Bay (another 6km to the south).
There, we hit a jack pot – this camping
reserve was smaller yet nice and level, with only one other caravan present. A
camp kitchen provided hot water and barbeque, and we had the shelter of large
trees with all its bird life and an entrance onto the beach within metres of
our caravan. The call of the kookaburras told us we had a perfect spot! George
finds fighting the traffic on the highway tiring and stressful so he was greatly
relieved to find a place like Ball Bay to unwind over a few days.
After a long
walk along the beach, we were pleased to find one of two resident kookaburra sitting
on the post and rail fence beside us. Bob the caretaker came to collect the
council’s fee. He lived opposite the Reserve. With the sounds of Beach curlews
wailing on the beach, a game of scrabble followed dinner we all retired for a
most peaceful night. Next morning,
George was feeding the kookaburra when a flock of 15 Plumed Whistling ducks
arrived to visit…
Fig birds fed in
the tree above us and we found a pair of red breasted Welcome swallows nesting
in the apex of the camp kitchen roof. The sun provided us with all the power we
needed and we enjoyed a gloriously lazy day … reading, working on our computers
and observing all the bird life around us. The discovery of the remains of
heart-urchins on the beach, which George initially thought were sea mice, had
Paula and Lea look at him askance. Something we had never seen before, simply
added to the interest of the day. George immediately wrote his friend Paddy
Berry back in Perth, sending photos of his "sea mouse" - only to hear back they
were echinoderms that burrow just below the surface of the sand
leaving a distinct trail. Skates dig them up and eat them. And, that evening, as we returned from
walking the length of the beach we found people observing whales breaching a
couple of kilometres offshore. George grabbed his binoculars and we too watched
for a while.
Heart urchin
The kookaburras had
adopted us, finding George an easy touch for sausage! They sat on the table or
arm of the chair like “patience on a monument” and we delighted in their
solemnity. Only once, did a quarrel break out between the pair and that too,
was an added pleasure hearing their distinctive vocalising close up.
After two nights we reluctantly packed up camp
and headed for Cape Hillsborough National Park further out on the peninsula,
some 12km away. The caravan park
resort was expensive and we decided that to stay there simply to see kangaroos
on the beach – an attraction that Cape Hillsborough has become famous for was
hardly worth it. The numerous photos we see in brochures of these animals on
the beach - small clusters of wallabies, all with their heads down feeding like
hungry chooks, perhaps gives the game away? The beach is devoid of anything
edible (other than tiny crabs!) and George could find no reason for the
marsupials to be attracted there. Therefore, he suspects they get given pellets
each morning in spite of notices elsewhere in the park about not feeding wild
animals! Tourists come from far and wide and spent big money to see a spectacle,
tour operator’s guarantee as a “bucket list experience” at dawn!
Brochure draw cards
As we had our caravan,
we could happily spend the day in comfort in the Hillsborough surrounds.
Cape
Hillsborough has a most attractive and interesting bay.
Walking Casuarina beach which literally glittered in waves of gold due to dustings of mica.
We took the walking
track up a steep path to Andrews Point with two impressive lookouts over the
ocean before following the crest of the ridge to look down on Turtle Beach. We
found a Mum and her young, fair-skinned bub out on the platform. Good for her taking this hike alone on a hot
day but we did fear for that little face with no hat to shield its head. She pointed out two turtles grazing on algae
or seaweed attached to the rocks below and we were able to appreciate their
shadowy forms swimming in and around the rocks. On our way down – there was an
excited disturbance ahead of us- we met a breathless couple saying there was a
brown snake ahead of us. Further down, another couple had been halted in their
tracks by the snake peering out at them from a crevice on the stairs. George
nonchalantly went to check hoping to see it – much to his wife’s dismay. We eased past with no sighting and returned
to the caravan for our lunch.
Robert Gates had
sent us a message advising there are three times in the year when the tide
drops to its very lowest point and today
was when an exceptionally low tide would appear around 3 p.m. With Wedge Island
and Orchid Rock beautifully situated off shore – we waited for the hour. Sure
enough the tide disappeared far out revealing a rocky sandbar between the
mainland and Wedge Island. We almost believed it to be man-made as we
approached yet once we were upon the exposed causeway heavily strewn with
oyster covered rocks and stones we realised this was natures work.
We also walked
to Beachcombers Cove, taking a perverse delight at the sight of a blue car
bogged in the sand. George had watched a young hoon driving across the beach a
little earlier with a woman hanging out the window. It was deserted but for a tiny scissor jack
under the chassis. We could only think he’d gone to seek help before the tide
turned. George, of course, hoped it wouldn’t be long before the “jammie” was
destined to become an artificial reef!
We happily
returned to Ball Bay, where we parked in the exact same spot we’d vacated that morning
– somewhat alarmed to find there were a
number of long haired, guitar playing hippies / ferals hanging about. They appeared to be preparing
for a beach party. Inside the Reserve another caravan had arrived along with a truck
setting up a roof tent. Cars continued
to arrive well after dark, some parking not far from us for the night. Bob came to collect fees… some car owners said
they were only fishing down on the beach for a few hours. The rest were making their way around the
rocky cliff to the next beach for a large gathering. We wondered about the
night ahead of us especially when we found a group of girls in the toilet at
bedtime. However, they were very polite and thoughtful and the night couldn’t
have been more peaceful and orderly.
Next day, we
moved on to Mackay sticking to the Bruce Highway until we managed to find the Bakers Creek turn off and
the caravan park, said to be of “unrivalled value in the region” without any
difficulty. Being a Sunday, reception was closed and our site allocated and
paid for over the phone. We soon realised there were cameras positioned all
over the place, the owner, whom we called “Big Brother”, was able to watch our
every move and send text messages! We took the wrong site due to the difficulty
of backing into the site. Alongside, Bakers Creek was running strongly on the
incoming tide. The noise of traffic and
trains crossing the creek on two sides of the park was to reverberate around us
in the quiet of night. By mid-day, our laundry was done and we’d each had a
much needed shower. That afternoon we went into the city to find the bus
terminal so that Paula could buy her ticket and ensure she was on a bus come
Monday night. While we acquainted ourselves with the route to avoid any
complications. All was easier than we
could have hoped.
Paula’s last
day. After putting all our bed linen
into the wash and onto the line we set off for the nearest and most convenient
shopping centre. Lea did a mammoth restocking exercise while Paula and George
went to visit the Botanic Gardens – this enabled George to wax lyrical about
the deplorable state of the nutrient enriched water body in its midst, Kaliguil
lagoon. Its surface covered in a wide variety of floating aquatic weeds. After dinner we
drove into the city centre in time to farewell Paula on her long coach journey
departing at 8.00pm back to Brisbane before she caught the train home to the
Gold Coast.
The following
day, we turn inland and climbed the steep Eton Pass into the heart of the Bowen
Basin, coal mining country in the Central highlands of Queensland in order to
visit nephew, Sheldon Haigh as well as meet his wife Jess and their young
family in Moranbah. The road heavily
trafficked with a large number of tankers; turn offs to numerous mines and
beside a railway with long trains taking coal to the coast. We were pleasantly
surprised nonetheless at the otherwise attractive nature of the hilly country.
A large number of animals, including a koala, lay dead on the roadside as a
result of the traffic that moves at night. We stopped at the Isaac River for a lunch
break and, using our SatNav device, managed to find Sheldon’s house without any
difficulty, leaving the caravan parked in the street - our “camp” for the
duration of our stay. Aside from Jess
and Sheldon, we met 6 week old baby Zenith
and Jess’s son Jaydon (aged 8). Older brother Ethan was away on a school camp
in Rockhampton. Penny, the dog and two cats.
Later that
afternoon we all took a walk through East Moranbah to see the house they are so
hoping to buy with help from Sheldon’s Dad. We hope so too, as not easy for the
family, all squeezed into a tiny rented house cluttered with all sorts of
things.
With mine
workers going off to work in the early hours of the morning, doors slamming and
engines being started, vans collecting garbage and the noise of commercial
aircraft coming in to land – our night spent on the edge of Cuthbert Street in
Moranbah was not the most peaceful. Nevertheless, Lea was up before 8.00 to
walk to the nearby state school with Jess and Jayden pushing Zenith in his pram.
Sheldon was away
at first light to begin a new job on a nearby mine. Mid-morning, Lea
accompanied Jess and Zenith to the clinic to have his first set of jabs. Lea
held this dearest little bloke for those awful minutes
as tears filled her eyes -
Leecy’s little grandson had stolen her heart and aside from being part
and parcel to the ‘hurt’ – our moment of departure was close at hand and Aquarians notoriously leaky!
We left for Clermont
– 110km inland. Although sealed, much of the road was in a bad condition, very
uneven and rough as it bounced us about.
Nearing Clermont we came across an attractive range of inselbergs (of
volcanic origin?) and stopped to photograph the easiest one, Wolf Peak. We were
also surprised to encounter large tracts of flat land being used for crop
cultivation – the soils a rich dark colour.
We spent the
night at Theresa Creek dam, a ticked site, 22km SW of Clermont. Despite passing
through some very dry, barren looking country, it was an attractive dam with a
large number of camp sites around it, the best already occupied by other
travellers. Nevertheless, it was good to drop anchors after a busy couple of days
and two restless nights and simply rest up while the sun gradually set in the
west. George cooked some lamb chops on the gas burner outside and after having
endured several noisy nights in the towns of Mackay and Moranbah we thoroughly enjoyed
the quiet of the outback once more.
After a leisurely
start to our day we drove back into Clermont, picked up the Gregory highway and
made tracks for Emerald (106km away). We were struck once again by the amount
of cultivation taking place and subsequently learnt much of it is related to
the growing of cotton albeit heavily reliant on water from the Fairbairn dam,
Queensland’s second largest lake (holding 1.3 million megalitres of water and now
only 20% full). Other crops include sorghum, chickpeas, sunflowers and wheat.
We stopped in Cappella for a quick brew and shortly thereafter were thrilled to
come across a large herd of cattle being pushed along by a couple of drovers
and their dogs.
We
found our way to the Emerald Caravan Park - unusually, it had a campground attached
to it with full access to the park’s amenities except power. The cost of a site just $15 – perfect for grey
nomads needing no frill basics.
The penny
finally dropped! George realised that by using the 12v socket the TV is usually
plugged into he could plug in our phones and charge them using solar power. At
last, a problem solved when we are off mains power!
On route to the
ablution block George had noticed an unusual set-up and pointed it out to Lea.
We has stared hard working out the clever usage of an old truck. No owner
around to question when George popped round a couple of times. Lea found the
very amiable Roger preparing to depart when she went to shower next morning.
Dashed back to our site to beckon George and left him to chat to Roger, a
former truckie / cabinet maker who’d built a removable pop-top type rig on top
of an old tray back Cruiser (shown below). No drawings - it had simply evolved
in his head. Everything developing for a reason; capturing water from the roof
to reinforced back springs. Fully laden. the rig weighed 4 ton.
Thereafter, we
continued eastwards towards Rockhampton – a rather dreary drive past Blackwater (the
coal capital of Queensland) except for the regularity of enormous 2km long Aurizon trains pulling up
to 100 carriages with a loaded weight of over 10 000 tons of coal, travelling
beside the highway. We passed the little
town of Dingo (where in August each year the world’s only dingo trap throwing
competition is held … the current record standing at 48m) and by lunch time
reached Duaringa where a large, fully serviced rest area is available to stay
in - all for the price of a gold coin donation.
We settled happily and peacefully for the night.
No rush for a
Sunday – we remained in our Duaringa site until lunchtime before driving
through to Rockhampton with easy access through to the airport and Ross and
Jackie Lebish’s house close to the airport entrance. We spent the rest of the
afternoon and evening pouring in their company chewing the fat about everything
from knives (Ross having once worked at the meat factory in Rockhampton cutting
beef cheeks from all the heads of the animals slaughtered) to woodwork and long
gone Kariba days. Youngest daughter Imogen and Jack, her partner, joined us for
supper.
Adding Ross to
the 50 year Golden circle…
We parked beside
the Lebish house on council land delighted by all the parrots and honeyeaters
feeding on the red flowers of the huge Parrot tree alongside our camp-spot by day, replaced by fruit bats at night. This tree is
also known as the ‘drunken parrot tree’ as the flowers contain so much nectar
that has a tendency to ferment and make the parrots a bit inebriated!
Work hours had
the Lebish family long gone when we arose. We returned to the Bruce
Highway as far as Calliope River, where we had much enjoyed free camping 10
years ago (Oct. 2008). We found the old causeway across the river closed and
this forced us to camp on the north side of the river adjacent to the historical
village, overlooking the river from the high bank which suited us fine for a
night.
Our evening walk
took us around the outer rim of the historical village, over the causeway and
through the camp ground on the south bank. From our elevated position on the
opposite bank, we watched it steadily fill with travellers well after nightfall.
We awoke to the sad
news that John Ramsden had collapsed and died very unexpectedly in his son
Daniel’s home the previous afternoon in England. Heavy hearted for all our family there, we
continued wending our way towards Bundaberg. We had expected to spend a night
beside the Boyne River, a ticked site however, it turned out to be cramped and
awful and we continued on to Miriamvale, before we could turn off the Bruce
Highway and take quieter back roads. Back
in adventure mode rather than destination … we took a road to Baffle Creek, not
even shown on our maps, and discovered Wartburg! Even stopped to take a
photograph of the Wartburg State School, for Bernd as he had lived and attended
Wartburg School in Natal, South Africa! Our “road to somewhere” wound on and on,
crossed a large river, and eventually came to a dead end at Rules Beach –
thankfully the only car parked there
left as we arrived, enabling us to just turn ourselves around. Signs advised Rules Beach was a turtle nesting
area. A strong wind blowing put us off walking. Instead, after a cup of tea /
coffee we returned the way we had come and made tracks for Rosedale.
Camps Australia
indicated Rosedale Hotel had a caravan park attached to. We slowed peering
across a dry grassy plain until the sign caught our eye. Powered sites
available at $5 per person for the first night, $1 per person for the second
night! A bargain that sucked us in. We were the only nomads until we returned
from our evening stroll around ‘town’ and found another couple had joined us. A perfect little spot for us although trains
during the night, were definitely not far off.
Rosedale’s quaint tea house.
The Hinkler Hall
of Aviation specifically drew us to Bundaberg. We spent a wonderful few hours in
the interactive museum, devoted to Herbert John Louis Hinkler, better known as
Bert, a pioneer aviator and inventor. Beautifully set in Bundaberg’s Botanical
Gardens overlooking a waterway or lagoon with many roosting ibis. Growing up in
Bundaberg, a very young Bert with a passion for flying drew his inspiration
from observing these birds in flight.
His many achievements and contributions to pioneer aviation were all
there for us to enjoy. Our visit included a walk through Bert’s quaint English
home, ‘Mon Repos’ originally built in 1925 while Bert and his wife Nancy were
living in Southampton, where Bert was developing
his famous amphibious plane, the Avro Ibis. ‘Mon Repos’ (named after the beach
not far from Bundaberg where his first attempts at flying took place) was painstakingly
dismantled and brought out to Australia where it was reconstructed in Bundaberg
on the edge of the Botanic Gardens in 1983.
We had lunch at
the café in the Gardens, then walked around the ponds in the gardens finding
them full of water birds which fittingly included nesting ibis! Plenty of freshwater
turtles and eels. After a very pleasant morning’s entertainment we drove 25km
out of town to Warrum Reserve, a well wooded, secluded rest area with its own
walking trail through the bush, to spend the night.
We got off to an
‘early’ start in order to get to Burrum Heads as soon as possible only for us ‘slow coaches’ to hold up the fast flowing traffic on the dreaded
Bruce Highway. It was a relief to break
off the highway for the last 19km down to Hillcrest Holiday Park overlooking
the Burrum estuary, select a site and Lea immediately began preparing lunch for
Roger and Judy (Lebish) before putting a load of washing out on the line. We
enjoyed a relaxed lunch with them before we all took a short walk along
esplanade fronting the estuary before the wind turned us back.
After they left
George was left to fathom out why our water in van had once again, turned black
in spite of being on mains! He changed the hose and added the filter, only to conclude
the problem was internal, but still unclear.
With a strong wind
blowing, bringing clouds up from down south and eventually a bit of rain we set
off on the drive from Burrum Heads to Hervey Bay and around midday pulled into
Roger and Judy Lebish’s place (near Botanic Gardens) , and parked on their verge for night. After lunch we all set off for the dog beach
to give their Labrador (Nanuk) a run / swim. Unable to get Keith’s Spirit Creatures film to show, George went
through his photos of Chimambo instead.
After breakfast
we departed for Pomona going via the Tin Can Bay road for much of the way. Much
of the countryside (west of Fraser Island) is covered in pine plantations –
acres and acres of pine trees in different stages of growth stretching in every
direction. Nearing Gympie we missed the turn off to Pomona (un-signposted) and
landed up on the Old Bruce Highway. We filled up with diesel at Kybong (also
not shown on our maps) and on seeking directions found we were inadvertently
heading towards Kenilworth in the Mary River valley. We decided to continue in
that direction in spite of the steep ascents and declines involved. Kenilworth
is a favourite place, and the finest of fine natural yoghurt is made there. We parked
in the busy Showgrounds and only just caught the yogurt factory in time before
they closed at 3.00.
Word on our
niece Holly was not good. And the sooner
we reached Sherry and Keith, in Buderim, the better. We arrived early after a few minutes of
hyperventilation rising up the Buderim steepness and descending down the Bell’s
road. No level ground aside their property we were able to park in the turning
circle for the next four nights.
Their new home
set in lovely surrounds overlooking rain forest and if you listened hard
enough, the sound of water running past to disappear over a most attractive
waterfall set in Buderim Forest Park, a short distance away and a
very popular tourist attraction. A cat bird was to call often and a
magpie called in for a snack often. That
afternoon we enjoyed the lovely track down to the waterfall, mindful of all the
hazardous rocks and roots for Shell and Lea with their wonky knees.
We were treated
to dinner at the Buderim Tavern with its grand view across the Mooloolaba
region. Next morning George unhitched and shot into the little town to arrange
a service / oil change for SKV. We happily spent a quiet day while Keith and
Shell arranged their urgent flight through to Perth and packed their bags for
the heartbreaking journey ahead. Nephew
Byron, flits around quietly in the background spending most of his time in his
tiny bedroom with his studies by correspondence.
The sisters
catching up in the sun.
Late afternoon
we enjoyed a hilly walk through the neighbourhood and followed Martin’s Creek home. Rain set in by nightfall
and continued through the night. Showers
followed throughout the next day which allowed George to walk home after docking
in SKV for service. Keith and Shell took us for lunch at Maroochydore Surf
Club. The sound of Martins Creek was now very audible behind the van.
The Airport
Shuttle collected Keith and Sherry for their flight to Holly’s bedside in the
beautiful hospice overlooking the Swan River in Claremont. Some distance from
home for both Holly and her incredible sister Carmen, who has been by her side
throughout this cancer journey. Thus, Carmen booked a B and B nearby at Cottesloe Beach for her Shell and Keith. To
distract Lea in this time of great sadness, she took to the kitchen in her sister’s
absence and began a big bake to fill the caravan cookie jars as well as cottage pie for
dinner. With Byron’s help our laundry was done and we thoroughly enjoyed
quality time with our nephew. He took the opportunity to show George his
collection of knives and talk about his car (1989 Holden Commodore).
Byron, a
competent mechanic set about servicing both of his cars being very mindful of
his back injury. Awful to
struggle with constant back pain. He spoke of previous jobs he has been
involved in and kept us well interested.
Having made arrangements for the last
weekend of September in Redcliffe with our many friends living in the Brisbane
region, we'd been horrified to discover it was a long weekend three weeks prior.
Lea phoned the caravan parks in the Redcliffe area and they were all fully booked. She called the Redcliffe Showgrounds but they were only taking self-contained
Recreation vehicles as they had a plumbing problem with their ablution
block. Despite advising Lea that a
plumber was due and they would advise as soon as possible – no call came. Many
unreturned calls in the final days were recorded. The weather forecast added
further fears to our solar abilities.
Despite offers to park outside homes in the area panic set in! In desperation, we found another showground
in Caboolture; they did not take bookings!
We departed for Caboolture,
deliberately turning off the M1 highway at one point in order to take the
Beerbarrum road that lead directly past the Showgrounds, arriving early enough
to secure the last powered site. Our
neighbours – the after-hours campground manager on one side and a helpful
truckie, the owner of a large bus ‘Snoopy’
on the other. We had the massive
Queensland Equestrian Centre on one boundary and backed onto a shooting range. The crackle of gunshots rang
out most days even in the rain! Our truckie friend drew attention to the
excessive weight on back of Skiv (expressing need for heavier back springs,
shock absorber or air bag?) and suggested we remove our rock tamer as it
interferes with the airflow beneath the rig and could result in overheating the
caravan brakes! Since it is rarely
needed George removed it while Lea finalised arrangements to meet various
people from the Brisbane region – Kariba folk and friends from her college
days. We also acted on the advice of our
neighbours in ‘Snoopy’ to make our bookings for the ferry crossing to Tasmania. Just as well, as the first available for our
size rig was 10th Dec. However, our shock /horror resulted in the lady making a call
to the ferry to check their holding weight and we were able to snap up a night crossing on
the 24th November.
Having spotted
the manufacturers of Sunland caravans opposite the showgrounds George walked
across to discuss our “black-water” problem. One fellow suggested it may be
deterioration of metal inside the tap at the sink, otherwise the internal
pipework attached to the van may need replacing. Very strange how intermittent
it is.
Fred and Sanae
Bouckaert (ex ERISS / Jabiru days) came and spent the unexpected free day we
had, having arrived early for the weekend.
Fred, ex Murray-Darling Basin Commission, now
at Univ. of Queensland, gathering data for his PhD – a comparative study of
approaches to river basin management in four different countries (Australia;
Brazil; France and China) had us absorbed in his work and the reports of the
Murray Darling Basin – following years of controversy, speculation and research
seeming to go nowhere due to being a Federal and State bone of contention. During their visit we fortunately escaped a
hail storm to the side of us and experienced a short, heavy thunderstorm that
we could barely hear ourselves speak in the caravan. Meanwhile, back in Perth
our grand-daughter Talia had her adenoids removed in hospital; and, Holly was put
onto a syringe driver.
We prepared for
another day of socialising over numerous cups of tea with Gail (Burrows) and
husband Donald Lovell and Shaynee Stanyon both ex Kariba, they had been two of
Lea’s Brownies and their parents very good friends of Lea’s.
That afternoon we enjoyed a visit from my college friend Di Southon or as George refers to her our dear ‘hyena lady’ and husband Tony Carter now living on Bribie Island. We forgot to take a photo!
After they left,
we took a quick walk through the showgrounds to stretch our legs before the
rain came. Elsewhere in the showgrounds
dozens of people camped with their horses and an indoor arena was surrounded
with young riders and their variety of beautiful ponies… manes plaited and
falling like pennants. We watched a
three drum race against the clock as young girls eased their horses around the
drums at speed. Extraordinary to see the
amount of gear these horsey-folk bring with them to such events – from tents,
to horse boxes (some a horse-box / caravan combination), saddlery, horse food,
horse blankets … and of course wide shovels with which to pick up all the horse
poop! We appreciated the sights, sounds
and smells – very rural and, very dear to our struggling ‘Holly-Horse’ in her
hospice.
Sunday dawned
with ominous weather circling us and rumbling furiously. We decided to get up
early, for us, particularly a Sunday morning and took a brisk walk through the Caboolture
Market held every Sunday from 5.30 a.m. until midday. We bought some fresh fruit and stopped for
egg and bacon rolls before the first drops of rain began to fall. We were expecting Helen Edwards and her two young
grandchildren for morning tea but the thunder storm that set in put paid to any
thought of travelling the Bruce Highway out to Caboolture. By the afternoon
squalls would come and go and the only benefit, we managed to bring the blog up
to date and post it on time…
