Travel News

Rosedale Hotel – Maryborough (Queensland)

10/09/17  Rosedale Hotel – Binnowee Bush Camp – Iron Ridge Park – Doon Villa Campground, Maryborough

Resuming our trek back to Maryborough after three days at Futter Creek, we travelled 140kms south to cross a very rattly old timber railway bridge into the small township of Rosedale, and camped out back of the pub. At best, it was a pretty basic campsite in amongst a large yard of discarded junk and scrap but in Rosedale for $10 you can’t expect the Hilton. It was OK for just an overnight stop and the price did include power, hot showers and laundry facilities, so it was kind of a bargain. We didn’t use the latter but both of us delighted in the long and gloriously hot shower after three days of navy washes at Futter Creek in our shower. You can overlook just about anything if the shower is hot and stays hot long enough.

The one night at Rosedale Pub was enough. The following morning, we trekked a mere 44kms to Binnowee Bush Camp, just north of Bundaberg, to a lovely spot at the edge of a large dam bordered by paperbark trees. The bird life kept Di occupied and she spotted a new bird – a Little Grass Bird. Each evening meal was cooked over the campfire. It was a very enjoyable three days at a very pretty spot. We met up for campfire scones, and then later for drinks, with fellow travellers, brothers Ken and Murray, and their wives Ann and Ann (not hard to get the girls names right). Ken’s Ann presented me with a pair of knitted slippers that have had a lot of use during the cold nights while I’m sitting up reading. My tootsies are very warm and happy.

Iron Ridge Park – Campsite (Qld)

 

Our last stop before Maryborough was back at Iron Ridge Park near Childers for two days. In town, we met up again with Ken and Ann for coffee and I took the opportunity to restock the dwindling wine cellar in the Kruiser with more reds from Brierley Wines. Purely medicinal, mind you; it’s good for the blood.

We arrived back in Maryborough to collect my uncle from the base hospital where he’d been treated for a break in his lower right fibula. The following week saw us assisting him at his home – Di couldn’t help herself and got stuck into a major clean of his house while I arranged for some disability furniture aids to make him more comfortable.

Further medical complications resulted in him being flown to Brisbane and we are heading there as well to see how he’s getting on. It was fortunate that we were there with him when the complications arose. These unforeseen developments have brought our planned travels to an early end but, on the positive side, going home will allow us to get stuck into some major flooring renovations that need doing and Di has some dental renovations to be completed as well.

Sometimes the road of life takes an unexpected turn and you have no choice but to follow it to end up in the place you are supposed to be.

Categories: Travel News, Travel News - Queensland | Tags: , , , , , ,

Kabra – Futter Creek (Queensland)

27/08/17  After weeks of glorious weather – clear blue skies and mid-20s temperatures – we crossed the Tropic of Capricorn at Rockhampton. The next two days were very hot and uncomfortable with temperatures up into the 30s, though, happily, this unpleasant weather was short-lived, followed by a couple of days of cold blustery winds and extremely cold nights and mornings. Whenever we’ve crossed the Tropic of Capricorn, regardless of where in Australia, it’s been associated with a marked and immediate change in the temperature.

A short fifteen minute drive west of Rockhampton, we camped next to the Kabra pub on the busy Capricorn Highway. Lots of semis were barrelling both ways, carrying goods to and from the Bowen Basin in the west, and immediately across the roadway, the dual rail line was busy all day and night with long coal trains from the Bowen Basin coal mines heading east to Rocky – multiple locomotives with up to 100 coal wagons – and empty ones returning west for refilling. We camped there for three nights, awaiting the arrival of tyre pressure sensors to replace those on the van that had started to fail shortly after leaving home. In the past three years, the system’s low pressure alarm has saved a few tyres from complete destruction and I was reluctant to tackle any gravel roads without a properly working tyre monitoring system.

The Kabra pub is unusual in its construction. We were told that the original old timber pub and adjacent hall were originally located nearer to the town. The pub, owned by a wily old lady, burnt down and while insurance was being arranged, a temporary bar was set up and the hall used for bar storage. Insurance came through, but then the hall subsequently burnt down and was subject to a further insurance claim. The story goes that insurance paid out again but on the proviso that the new pub was to be constructed of concrete block with cement floor. The new pub is built like a bunker. You can just about clean it out with a fire hose. No more fire insurance payouts, I assume.

Yeppoon – Singing Ship Monument (Qld)

Just to the north of Rocky at Yeppoon, we caught up for the day with locals Vic and Bronwyn, 5th wheelers we’d met recently at the Futter Creek camp, and had lunch with them at the yacht club over a nice piece of local beef.

Our travel plans have now changed due to an accident involving my uncle, the one we’d recently visited with in Maryborough. A fall and subsequent broken ankle laid him up in hospital and we’re heading back there to help him get back on his feet after he’s discharged. As we get older, we don’t seem to bounce as well as we used to when we were spry and nimble.

We’re now working our way back south and are again camped at Futter Creek for a couple of days.

You know that point you reach halfway between being awake and asleep – that numb state of drowsiness when thought is slipping away. I was in that lethargic state, reclining back in the chair, soaking up the sun, nodding off…when an angle grinder started up and blew it all to hell. Hardly what you’d expect to encounter at a pleasant little creekside camp spot in the middle of nowhere.

It was all the fault of the guy in the van just across the way. He started the whole thing. It was laundry day and out came the portable washing machine and generator onto the grass beside his van. Now, if it was me, I’d have put it all around the back to block the noise, but that’s just me.

Anyway, next thing, Old Mate from the van next door spies Washing Guy’s generator and, seizing on an opportunity, trots over and plugs an angle grinder into it and starts grinding away at some God-Only-Knows-What thing he’s got going on.

In no time at all, Grinding Man triggers some deep primal urge in Old Mate in the van on the other side of Washing Guy, who proceeds to get out his own grinder and gets stuck into his own noisy God-Only-Knows-What project.

Our once-serene campsite is now reverberating to the cacophony of washing machine, generator and angle grinders.

Offering a discordant accompaniment to the tune of the “The Laundry and Construction Orchestral Trio” are Ma and Pa Kettle in the mobile home on the other side – Ma with her irritatingly loud nasally voice that I’m sure could easily etch glass if she tried just a little bit harder, continually berating downtrodden-looking Pa Kettle for daring to breathe; and Pa hollering to whoever’s on the speakerphone that they are camped in such a nice quiet spot and that their toilet pump isn’t working. Makes sense now. I thought they were full of it. And their little spotted Rat Dog’s perpetual struggles to cough up that permanently stuck fur ball just rounds off the complete symphonic package.

Serenity is such a fragile and fleeting thing. Angle grinders pale compared to Ma Kettle’s dulcet voice.

“We’re out of here first thing tomorrow.” – Pete

Categories: Travel News, Travel News - Queensland | Tags: , , , , ,

Mount Morgan (Queensland)

20/08/17 After a night at the Futter Creek camp, we headed west through lush cattle country that is undoubtedly the reason nearby Rockhampton promotes itself as the Beef Capital of Australia. The cattle we saw were glowing with condition – the fats were very fat and the bulls very bully. Our intended campsite at Biloela and another further north at Goovigen were both bypassed as we’d been making good time and chose to go on to Mount Morgan for a couple of days pursuing family history links.

I was last in Mount Morgan as a seven year old holidaying with my family, and for that short time my elder brother and I were enrolled at Calliungal North State School where our maternal grandfather, Connor Connell, was the principal and sole teacher from 1950 until his retirement in 1965. My memories of that time are very patchy – Grandad circulating around the single classroom as he taught each of the year level groups; sitting with the other students on bench form seats in a vaulted-roofed music room singing “A Scottish Soldier” with Grandma playing the piano and occasionally emphasizing with her hand the metre of the song; the musty smell of wooden school desks, chalk dust and wet writing slates; constructing meccano contraptions on the front veranda of the school residence that seemed the size of an aircraft carrier deck; collecting eggs each day from the wire and corrugated tin chook yard out the back – so I was looking forward to seeing if the buildings still existed and if they evoked any additional childhood memories of that time.

On the outskirts of town, after asking a local for directions to the old school, we very soon pulled up at an old school building now functioning as a private residence. We introduced ourselves to the very elderly owner who was more than happy to chat and recount stories about the building and school days. After an hour or so, I remarked that the school residence didn’t seem at all familiar, so my grandfather may have lived elsewhere away from the school. I said he’d been listed on a number of census returns for that time as living in Baree – to which she responded that Baree was the next community just out of town. “Well then, I guess he must have lived away from the Calliungal North State School to have that address on the census returns.” “This wasn’t Calliungal North State School,” she said, “This was the old Walterhall State School. Calliungal North is further out of town at Baree.”

We had a good laugh, realising that for the past hour we’d each been speaking about totally different schools and still making good sense of it all. Regardless, she was a lovely lady and the chat had been a very enjoyable reminiscence of those times. Now following her directions, Di and I headed off to hopefully locate the correct school. A wrong turn on the way and we pulled over once again to ask directions from a chap standing in his front yard.

“G’day. I’m looking for the old Calliungal North State School. Would you know where it might be?”

“I should. I did my primary schooling there.”

“My grandfather was principal there for fifteen years,” I said. When I mentioned my grandfather’s name, he said “Old Pop Connell! Yes, he taught me the whole time from Grades 1 to 6. Great teacher and great bloke!” After introductions, Keith asked us inside his home and we chatted for an hour or so, with him digging out old photos and ringing his sister a few doors up the road to see if she might have any others that included my grandparents. He also asked after a couple of my uncles who were at school with him in those days. Lovely guy. Keith promised to have a look for more photos and we met up with him again the following day. What’re the odds of a person you meet quite by chance knowing your grandfather and some of your uncles really well! Small world. But then again, Baree is a very small place. Keith had been born and raised in the small weatherboard cottage that he still lived in.

Once again, and now following Keith’s directions, we went off to find the school; this time with success. There it was perched on top of “that bloody hill” that the kids trudged up and down each school day. Tooting the car horn at the rather large guard dog sign on the front gate, Di and I introduced ourselves to the owners, explaining why we were there. They very graciously allowed us a tour of the building that had opened as a school in 1904, closed at the end of 1971, and was now a family home.

Keith had confirmed that my patchy recollections of the internal layout were pretty accurate. But the original internal timber walls had been removed some time ago and the arrangement of rooms considerably altered. The impressive old building has undergone a number of transformations in the almost half century since it ceased being a school, including conversion into flats and for a few years as home to a rather dubious and secretive religious cult till that faded away. The exterior, though, has remained very much as it had always been, aside from the addition of a few windows when a false ceiling was installed inside.

Through renovation gaps, we caught glimpses of the glorious original vaulted ceilings of tongue and groove timber and the original double-height windows now lighting the unused void above the false ceiling. I could see why, with such raking ceilings and windows, I‘d remembered the classroom being like a cathedral; a high lofty space. Thankfully the current owners wish to retain as much of the authenticity of the building as possible as they continue to renovate it into their home.

Calliungal North SS – Old Principal’s Residence (Qld)

They took us next door to the old principal’s residence and introduced us to that owner, who was pleased to show us through and relate what she knew of the buildings past. We had a very pleasant chat with both owners about the history of their buildings and the area, and most especially with Keith, the past student, who shared several warm memories of my grandparents.

In all, we spent six days in Mount Morgan. The town’s past, present and future focusses very much on the gold mine that in its day was the richest in the world. It’s been closed now since 1990. The locals hint at the possibility of rejuvenation due to modern techniques for extracting gold from the old tailings, but they seem unconvinced much will happen soon. With very little other industry in town to support the community, the general downturn was evident. It’s a great shame that the once wealthy, vibrant and historic mining town now appears to be in its twilight years.

“Towns are like people. Old ones often have character, the new ones are interchangeable.” – Wallace Stegner

Categories: Travel News, Travel News - Queensland | Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Lowmead – Futter Creek (Queensland)

14/08/17  The drive up through the heavily wooded hills of the Warro Forest Reserve was a slow haul, along a snaking gravel road and across a narrow wooden bridge that I thought best to walk over first before clunking across the rattly wooden bridge deck with the rig. Shortly after descending the far side of Mt Warro, we came to the small village of Lowmead, and over the level rail crossing of the main north-south line to set up in the large shady backyard of the pub.

Over a drink in the pub a little later, Di asked the publican and two guys sitting at the bar how many people lived in Lowmead.

“Six” they all agreed after counting it up.

“Six houses?”

“No, six people.”

With the two guys at the bar, the publican, two others sitting across the room, and both of us, it was pretty much full house for Sunday lunch.

We unhitched the van and took an afternoon drive to nearby Agnes Waters and the Town of 1770. Di loved the long curving white beach at Agnes Waters, but 1770 didn’t appeal to us much at all – too hilly, too isolated and too many backpacker whiz bangs everywhere. Bustard Bay, dotted with many boats and yachts moored offshore, was certainly scenic and would be a great place to stay if you were a boatie. But we weren’t.

With the shadows lengthening in the late afternoon, we enjoyed a drink beside the van looking across the paddocks to Baffle Creek at the far tree line. An impressive Spotted Harrier on the hunt, skimming above the tops of the tall grass seed heads, proved faster than Di could locate her camera. She settled for just a distant hazy image of this new bird to her list. We had a very quiet and peaceful camp site, tucked away in the back corner behind the pub, despite the occasional horn toots of trains approaching the nearby level rail crossing. Thankfully, they didn’t blow their horn at night.

The next morning, we packed up and headed north through Miriam Vale and Calliope to a camp at Futter Creek. The days are becoming steadily warmer as we travel further north. The nights are still cold and we’re hitting the sack much earlier, our sleep patterns very much dictated by sunset and sunrise.

Futter Creek (Qld)

“Knock Knock! Who’s there? Tibet! Tibet who? Early Tibet and early to rise!”

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Childers – Bundaberg (Queensland)

13/08/17  Ambrosia and Camp Fires

The last two campsites have been terrific.

We stayed for three nights at Brierley Wines, 6km out of Childers. Camping was free as long as you bought some of their wine which I was quite happy to do as the tasting was rather nice. They grow the grapes and make their own organic wines on site, and my long-held notions of what I like in a Shiraz have been totally destroyed by this nectar. I have to honestly say that after their wine, all others in my mobile cellar tasted insipid as I forced myself through the remaining stocks. From the first glass it just blew me away. I’ve gone through the couple of bottles we picked up and we’re going for a drive to get some more today. Their mulled wine is going to have a delightful place on the Christmas table this year when we get home. Along with their Honey Mead, for something a little ancient and different. Wassail the wine!

Our next camp was a hop of only 21kms through Childers to Iron Ridge Park – my idea of what all caravan parks should be like. For the two weeks beforehand, we’d been camping on solar, and headed to Iron Ridge only for the power because the forecast was for a few days of solar-killing grey skies and rain. Despite the clouds eventually clearing, we kept extending our stay, to 9 days in all. The place was like a 5-star bush camp, owned by a couple who had done lots of travelling themselves and knew what they liked in a campsite. In a bushland setting with lots of trees, the sites were quite spread out from each other, with lots of space and a fire pit each. Free wood could be gathered from the bush in the wheelbarrows provided and we sat around a fire most nights. So it was like how we choose to camp, only with extras – like a concrete slab, toilets, showers, laundry, power and water. Not real hard to take at all. This was a good base for day trips into nearby Bundaberg and the beaches at Woodgate, Bargara, Innes Park and Elliott Heads.

Unfortunately, Di was a magnet for the midges and has been scratching like crazy for days. I read that midges are attracted to carbon dioxide, and my suggestion to try keeping her mouth closed and holding her breath wasn’t received in quite the same warm and caring manner that it was offered. Oh well, there go all my brownie points again…

AAAAAGH!! – Di (scratching)

Categories: Travel News, Travel News - Queensland | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Scarborough – Widgee – Maryborough (Queensland)

28/07/17  Apartment living has many advantages. Parking space for a caravan isn’t one of them. So, to get it ready for the trip, we had a couple of days at the caravan park just up the road from home to clean the Kruiser and pack it up. Di’s LISTS came out, the gear went in and the dust came off. With every box ticked, we spent the second night in the van.

Given the long break at home, we had to recall some of those things we routinely did in the Kruiser that used to be second-nature. “Now, what was that inverter setting again?” Thank goodness I labelled everything when we first got the van or over time as we worked out how a particular something worked in it. There are labels everywhere, on the inside of cupboard doors and next to control switches, to assist with the vagaries of memory. Those little label makers are worth their weight in gold. But, pretty quickly we got into the swing of things (Read the labels!), headed out of the park and north to Marg McIntosh Reserve, a nice little free camp west of Gympie with a small creek on one side and horse paddocks over the back fence, two one-lane bridges from the small town of Widgee.

The Landy needed a little tweak so two days later we ended up in Gympie at Gold City Land Rovers for some TLC from Allan and the boys. The guys back home at MR Automotive were terrific for advice about what was happening, and shipped parts up overnight so they were there in Gympie first thing the following morning when we called in. When you’re travelling, it’s great to have reliable people you can call on when needed. By lunchtime, the re-tweaked Landy was heading on to Maryborough.

Both my parents’ families, the McFarlanes and Connells, have long roots in Maryborough going back to the mid-1800s. I’d been looking forward to spending a few days there doing some ancestry research and catching up with relatives. The local Family Heritage Society provided a wealth of information and we spent some time at the old cemetery where a few ancestors were buried, including my paternal great-grandparents, William and Martha McFarlane, who emigrated to Maryborough from Ireland in 1863. As this was their first landfall in Australia, they are considered to be among the group of Pioneers of Maryborough.

Maryborough is a lovely town with many original old homes and commercial buildings. The Maryborough I remember from my childhood is now relegated to being almost a satellite of Hervey Bay, the nearby community that has grown enormously since its sleepy beach village days. The quiet little beachside Hervey Bay where I spent most childhood Christmas holidays is long gone, overtaken by progress; developed and homogenised to now look like everywhere else. I guess that’s why Maryborough appeals to us. It’s been bypassed by the developers’ wrecking ball and retained its individuality and heritage.

Dundathu – Site of Dundathu Sawmill (Qld)

We caught up with my uncle who we hadn’t seen for quite some time, and afterwards went exploring to find the site of the Dundathu sawmill, just outside of Maryborough beside the Mary River. This was where great-grandfather William was employed as a sawyer after arriving in Australia. To the casual eye, nothing now remains at the site, having long ago reverted back to bushland, but with the aid of GPS coordinates, we were able to navigate to where the sawmill had existed and locate some signs of it in the bushscape.

Maryborough – Home of Maternal Grandparents (Qld)

We also visited the house of my maternal great-grandfather, and were delighted to meet the current owners who turned out to be my second-cousins. The house has remained in the family since 1916, and I have a wonderful photo of my mother as a young child sitting up with her parents and grandfather in a horse-drawn buggy outside this house, circa 1928.

Maryborough is a place we’ll definitely be coming back to. There is so much family history yet to be done.

When there is a very long road upon which there is a one-lane bridge placed at random, and there are only two cars on that road, it follows that: (1) the two cars are going in opposite directions; and (2) they will always meet at the bridge. – Murphy’s Law of the Open Road

Categories: Travel News, Travel News - Queensland | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Woohoo!

19/07/17  We’ve been home for a little over six months since getting back from Western Australia to have Christmas with the family. 207 days…our longest break from travelling; the days have been restless with anticipation to be gone again. The wanderlust bug has bitten us bad, and it’s an itch that can’t be satisfied no matter how hard it’s scratched. Not that it hasn’t been great catching up with family and friends and having time to attend to all those medical, dental, optical, mechanical, domestic Maintenance Things that need to be done at least once a year. But behind all that catching up and running around, we’ve been poised at the starting blocks, awaiting the starter’s pistol.

Di has enjoyed being home for the longer stretch this time. She was ready to come back at the end of last year’s travels. Christmas was approaching and thoughts of family were tugging hard on her maternal strings. Not so much me; I just do what I’m told. Now, after the long break, she’s ready for the next trip, busily making LISTS (they do warrant all capitals!) of everything that must be done. Serious LISTS, too; they got printed off and bound into booklets. One of the bedrooms looks like a compulsive hoarder has moved in, with stacks of shopping bags containing gear to be moved back into the Kruiser. I do a lot of calm deep breathing during these obsessive LIST Phases and lots of avoidance tactics.

But, hey, we are at long last heading off….Woohoo!

It’ll be Queensland this time. Over the past three years, our travels really haven’t done justice to our home State, mostly going through parts of it on the way to more distant places. This will be the Queensland Trip – up the coast to the far north (depending on the weather) and into the centre to parts we haven’t been before. We’re looking forward to beaches, aboriginal rock art, dinosaur fossils and lots of dust (me anyway). Spinifex too hopefully; love the spinifex country. And in amongst all that, the intention is to also substantially supplement our piggy bank through some rewarding gold and gemstone fossicking – possibly sapphires, the State gem. There’s also koalas (the State faunal symbol), Cooktown orchids (our floral symbol), brolgas (our bird symbol), the Barrier Reef anemonefish (our aquatic symbol), and cane toads (our State of Origin symbol). Heaps to see, and along the way, we shall endeavour to be Audax at Fidelis (Bold but Faithful), our State motto. A bit too much information, I know. Sorry. I got a little carried away on Google. But anyway, Queenslander!!! (the State winning war cry).

Our previous wanderings have generally had no specific destinations, being more like adaptable rambles that took us where we ended up. This time, I’ve been playing with the Trip Planner feature of the WikiCamps app to plot out a route for the entire trip, listing all potential camp sites along the way. Some we may not get to, especially if it gets too hot up north. But the route does look great on paper – although it must be said, in the light of past experience all that planning will probably be just so much smoke. We’ll no doubt end up doing something completely different as has been the case in the past. And if that happens, it won’t matter; the journey is the destination. It’s not about the arriving; but the getting there.

Besides, the trip planning filled in my time while home, kept me occupied and poised on the starting block, and mostly out of trouble.

“If you think adventure is dangerous, try routine. It’s lethal.” – Paulo Coelho

Categories: Travel News, Travel News - Queensland

Bushman’s Rest, Lake Cullulleraine – Weethalle Showground – Narrabri – Scarborough (South Australia – Queensland)

23/12/16  Saying goodbye to our camping buddies Charles and Joy at World’s End Reserve, we followed the Goyder Highway east through rolling hills, golden fields of wheat and endless sheep pastures. The Murray River soon appeared on our right, and from the top of the Golden Limestone Cliffs, we looked out on the swollen river. Flood waters had breached the banks and spread out through the river red gums on the broad floodplain to the far cliffs. It was wonderful to see the mighty Murray so full and replenished by recent rains. There was a downside to the flooding, though. The many scenic bush camps dotted along the river were under all that floodwater.

Consequently we motored on, following the meandering river east and crossing it just beyond Renmark via the Paringa Bridge. This heritage listed bridge has a single railway line in the centre (now disused), with a narrow road lane on each side of it. A lift span allows river traffic to pass underneath. The road lane felt very tight for the Kruiser and we were glad it wasn’t any wider.

A little way down the road, we crossed into Victoria, intending to stay at a bush camp on the border. The Landy, though, was showing an outside temperature of 38C and rising, and we opted instead for a powered site. We spent the night beside Lake Cullulleraine at the Bushman’s Rest Caravan Park with the aircon keeping us cool and comfortable. The next morning was overcast with a forecast of rain. It was our wedding anniversary and we stayed on a second day beside the lake to celebrate.

img_3089Between the small towns of Goolgowi and Rankins Springs on the Mid Western Highway, we were happy to sit a long way back from a caravan that was travelling along at our pace. Suddenly, the van tilted and pulled over to the roadside, having lost a wheel. We stopped and gave them a hand to find the wandering wheel, got their details and went ahead to Rankins Springs to arrange a tow vehicle to get them into nearby Griffith where the broken wheel studs could be replaced. We were the first on hand to help them, and two other caravans pulled up to offer help as well. Aussies are a great bunch, quick to pitch in and do what they can when someone’s in trouble, especially for travellers on the side of the road.

That night, we camped in the showgrounds of the small town of Weethalle, among a group of rustic buildings facing a white-fenced trotting track sitting idle between infrequent race meetings. A local contact person was very helpful in opening up the facilities and making sure we were comfortable for the night.

From Lake Cullulleraine in upper Victoria, we had three big motoring days that took us home by Christmas Day, firstly 547kms to Weethalle in New South Wales, then 578kms to Narrabri where we stayed the night with Deb and Stu, and the final leg of 611kms to home. North of Narrabri, broad sheets of water lying in the paddocks and across the road at one point was evidence of recent rains. We’d crossed three State borders in four days to spend the festive day with family.

Since commencing in 2014, we’ve travelled 65,740kms with the van. Here are some facts about our overlanding to WA this year:

2016-overview

“Some people try to turn back their odometers. Not me. I want people to know why I look this way. I’ve travelled a long way and some of the roads weren’t paved.” – The Landy 

The Landy

The Landy and Kruiser

Categories: Travel News, Travel News - Multiple States, Travel News - New South Wales, Travel News - Northern Territory, Travel News - Queensland, Travel News - Victoria | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Kooma View Farmhouse – Nuttbush Retreat – Jamestown – World’s End Reserve (South Australia)

18/12/16  After Ceduna, we met up again with Charles and Joy at Kooma View Farmhouse, 60kms or so west of the town of Kimba, the halfway point across Australia from east to west. That brought home to us that we were halfway back on our return leg to Queensland. Kooma View is a disused farmhouse that the property owners make available to travellers to camp at no charge, although donations are welcomed to help with the upkeep of the basic facilities (the dump point and flushing outdoor toilet). The house was open and visitors were welcome to look through, which was interesting but clothes hanging in cupboards and crockery set out on the kitchen table were a little eerie. Some furnishings and contents were very familiar, dating back to our childhood. It felt like someone should be living there – like those movies where everyone vanishes suddenly leaving everything undisturbed. We spent the night camped in the grounds near to the house. No ghosts or green alien abductors bothered us.

The following morning, we headed on east through Kimba and Iron Knob to spend two nights at Nuttbush Retreat on Pandurra Station, near Port Augusta. We’d previously stayed there when travelling across to WA in June. I replaced a broken brake pad sensor in the Landy, finally extinguishing a dashboard warning light that had been in my face for more than a week.

Our next leg took us around the top of Spencer Gulf through Port Augusta and over the high South Flinders Ranges to quaint, historic Jamestown, with its lovely stone residential and commercial buildings. Charles and Joy pulled in shortly after us, having taken a separate route, and we joined them for lunch and a leisurely walk around the town from our semi-bush campsite at Robinson Park Reserve on the northern edge of town.

In the morning, we took the Hallett Road to one of our favourite towns, Burra, which we’d spent a couple of days exploring last year. We were just passing through this time, and had lunch and refuelled before heading 30kms south to our bush camp at World’s End Reserve on Burra Creek. In spite of the creek being dry, it was still a very pleasant camp with just our two vans in amongst old river gums near the creek. This was our last night with our travel buddies, who were heading on to the vineyards of Clare while we continued east towards home. We generally don’t travel with others, preferring the flexibility of doing our own thing, but have done so now with a few couples who we’ve enjoyed camping with. We’d thoroughly enjoyed Charles’ and Joy’s company and had great fun together, sharing seven camp sites since first meeting them at Esperance in WA, and we’re looking forward to getting together again and doing more free camping when they’re travelling around Queensland next year.

“I have found out that there ain’t no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them.” – Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer Abroad

Categories: Travel News, Travel News - South Australia | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Yalata East – Shelly Beach, Ceduna (South Australia)

13/12/16  img_2675aFrom our Nullarbor free camp, the Eyre Highway closely followed the Bunda Cliffs of the Great Australian Bight, and the blue of the Southern Ocean was a constant sight off to our right. 240kms east in the Yalata Aboriginal Reserve, we pulled in for lunch at a little rest area just beyond the turnoff to the community and, again, stayed on and spent the night. At the back of the rest area, a number of tracks led off to individual camp spots among the trees, and being the only ones there, we had the pick of them. We parked the van in a shady spot beneath a couple of overhanging trees.

img_9983 Di checked out all the bird life, and that night I spotlighted for a wombat. I’m now convinced that wombats are extinct throughout Australia. We’ve travelled the length and breadth of this great country during the past couple of years, ever watchful for a wombat in the wild. Sure, there have been the occasional ones lying belly-up on the roadside, but I now believe these were the last of their species. There are no more. If I could “parrot” the memorable words of John Cleese: “’E’s passed on! This (wombat) is no more! He has ceased to be! ‘E’s expired and gone to meet ‘is maker! ‘E’s a stiff! Bereft of life, ‘e rests in peace!…’Is metabolic processes are now ‘istory! ‘E’s off the twig! ‘E’s kicked the bucket, ‘e’s shuffled off ‘is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ choir invisible!! This is an ex-(wombat)!!”

Di and I have had trouble adjusting to the change in time zones since crossing the WA/SA border. SA is 2 hours 30 minutes later than WA. At 9:00 o’clock at night, it’s still light outside! It’s been a couple of days now and our body clocks are still way out of whack – we’re having lunch in the mid-afternoon, Happy Hour when it should be dinner, and going to bed way too late. It’ll take time to adjust, I guess, but we’ll soon be entering another new time zone in NSW and it’ll be all out the window again. Many are the trials of overlanding. It’s such a stressful life.

After a quiet night at our Yatala East bush camp, we headed on to Ceduna, with Di spending most of the time buried in a map planning our route home. It wasn’t so much about where we wanted to go, but where we haven’t been before and avoiding roads already travelled. We have a general idea which, as always, will develop and change as we go.

At Ceduna, the Landy and Kruiser had a surprise visit to a truck wash day spa, and came away looking very swanky again. I was chuffed to collect my certificate for completing the Nullarbor Links Golf Course, notwithstanding my substantial scorecard from using just a 5-iron. The certificate will have pride of place back home in the Castle. With the last two stopovers at 52km Peg and Yatala East, we’d lost track of our travelling companions, Charles and Joy, but came across them again at the Shelly Beach Caravan Park in Ceduna, along with Scott and Kez who we’d met and had dinner with at New Norcia a couple of months ago. And in a further coincidence, on our last day a motorhome pulled in next to us with Kev, Adele and Matt who we’d met at Dongara. It really is a small world.

Our stay at Ceduna was extended to sit out two days of horrifically hot weather, the kind that sucks the breath from your lungs. We met the global warming challenge by sitting in the cold waters of the bay or in the Kruiser’s air-conditioning. Whoever invented aircon should have a very large statue erected in their honour.

“So, Di, you have until Port Augusta to decide about going home via Birdsville.” Pete, not holding out much hope at all of that happening.

Categories: Travel News, Travel News - South Australia | Tags: , , , , ,

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