16 February 2011 - Caltex Service Station yard, Burpengary, Queensland

Yes, you read correctly; the yard behind a service station. And this yard is a rest area, a rest area for large trucks, where they leave their trailers or trucks when they finish work. Hopefully there will not be too many more come in tonight. We sought permission from the garage staff even though this is listed in a couple of camping bibles. We enjoyed our dinner time under the awning facing away from the industry of the possie, catching a cool breeze, until the rain started. I said to Chris, “Isn’t it lovely to be sitting here outside while the rain falls all about us”, but then it turned into a torrential downpour and we scurried inside to shut windows and vents. It rained so hard there was no point in trying to listen to the news; there was such a din! A river of water swept across the yard toward us, brightly coloured with oil, and disappeared into the long grass between us and the fence. And then just as suddenly, it stopped and we had to hurry about opening everything up before we suffocated. We are not very far from the Bruce Highway and can indeed hear the traffic passing up and down this busy highway, however it is an even flow and should not be a disturbance during the night.

17 February 2011                  Nestle Inn Tourist Village, Tingalpa, Brisbane

Here we are in a delightful caravan park not too far from the city centre; 12 kilometres if the brochure is correct, and just across the river from the airport. This is a better option than Springtime Gardens. Certainly it is a couple of dollars more a night, and lacks a swimming pool to plunge in to, but should prove to be a more convenient point from whence to bus into the city’s cultural centre tomorrow.

It is hot and sticky. We are of course on electricity and so have the fan blasting away, the windows uncovered but for the flyscreens even though it is pitch black outside, so some air can find its way in.

We left our salubrious yard at Burpengary just before nine this morning and drove down here in the rain. The road was busy but the trip short. The day has passed without undue excitement; laundry, a trip to Kmart to return a faulty gas bottle, Coles and the greengrocer, and this evening a walk around this very extensive caravan park after dinner. The owner or manager told us this morning that they have three hundred permanents here! We were astonished this evening to discover this whole village of caravans and huts neatly tucked away in the trees and hedges on the large area behind the office.

Just a note about the gas bottle alluded to above; this is the small one for the outdoor cooker we purchased at Kmart back up in Maroochydore. Everytime that Chris has used it, he has had to close off the valve with a wrench, and each time, it has become more and more difficult to do so. Finally last night, he was unable to turn it off at all, and we thought we might have to call the fire brigade to come and take it away or whatever they might do in such situations. In the meantime we ate our dinner with it burning away and then it just stopped. He was able to cap it but was not willing to risk the same experience another day. We are still guardians of the delinquent bottle and will have to think of some way to dispose of it safely, but in the meantime the manager at Kmart at Capalaba today gave us a replacement which worked perfectly tonight. Always something to be fixed or replaced!! Such is life!

We have had a productive day, rising very early in our lovely rain forest park, and arriving at Caravan World on time. After going over the matters we wished to have dealt with, we headed off in just the Landcruiser, first to Buderim to collect a packet of mail from Pauline’s neighbour’s letter box, and then to seek out the Toyota dealer in Maroochydore. Chris wanted to discuss a couple of issues about our vehicle. The first was easily dealt with by explanation and the second, relating to an adjustment to the handbrake, discussed and rain checked for another day.

We then drove over to the Sunshine Plaza, a shopping centre we remarked had become “our local shopping centre” having visited it on many occasions and now being quite familiar with it despite the complex maize of malls over the canals. We found a tyre pressure gauge, swapped the “Gadget Geek” at Dick Smiths that I have been having problems with and shouted ourselves a coffee at McDonald’s.

We were to be back up at Woombye to collect the caravan at eleven, however thought it might be politic to delay our return, so parked down at a rest area beyond Woombye to eat our lunch. No sooner had we finished our delicious nectarines, did the cellphone ring with news that the caravan was ready.

And so it was about half twelve that we left the Sunshine Coast on this next leg of our Aussie adventure; the ensuite sliding door sliding well, the gas struts on the bed no longer a hazard, the pump making less noise and this new “Gadget Geek” working well.

On arriving at Burpengary, we walked about what appeared at first glance a rather uninteresting cluster of shops, to find in fact that Burpengary offers a great variety of shops and services, serving its populace well. We managed to obtain a better dictionery than that purchased in a junk shop in Kingaroy, and a history book about Australia which should be good reading in my spare time (when I have some).

The bonus of the afternoon was that we made contact on Skype with Larissa and the kids. They could see us but we could not see them. We look forward to when it can be a two way street!

We have booked in to this caravan park in Brisbane for the next couple of nights, having confirmed that both the museum and art gallery have reopened just today, having recovered from their flood damage.

In the bigger picture, outside this little world I write about, recovery continues here in Queensland, from the floods in the Brisbane greater area and of course from the terrible cyclone, Yasi, of 2 February. Apart from the physical requirements of recovery and the loss of crops and livelihoods from the floods, there are reports daily in the papers of battles with insurance companies who are refusing to pay out on claims because of the terminology and definition of water damage / floods / drains. The politicians are in on the “war” and also there is great disagreement concerning which government will pay for the repair of infrastructure; Federal or State. Upstate in the wake of Yasi, denghi fever has broken out and there will be months, even years, to clear and rebuild. It has been a horrendous year so far for Queensland; fortunately not for us.

18 February 2011                  Nestle Inn Tourist Village, Tingalpa, Brisbane

Another evening in Brisbane, hot and sticky. We have the fan blasting away yet again but it doesn’t seem to be making a whole lot of difference. We have had a lovely day and are enjoying an otherwise pleasant evening here in our comfortable caravan.

We headed in to the city centre this morning on the bus, leaving the park here just after eight. The bus was late to arrive, but for us, unlike our commuting fellow passengers, it did not matter. We had intended to get a bus to the Cultural Centre, but instead arrived in the centre of the CBD. Fortunately it is less than a kilometre to proceed through the main street’s pedestrian mall, across the Brisbane River by bridge to the museum and art gallery, and we were there a few minutes before opening time at nine thirty.

We spent the morning in the museum which has some excellent exhibits. I was particularly interested in the exhibit about the Aborigines and Torres Strait islanders and those related to the weird and wonderful creatures of this vast continent.

The section pertaining to the wildlife of Australia was very well laid out; a section where many animals and birds were all assembled as if ready to enter the Ark, which gave one a good perspective of size. They were well indexed and I was able to discover what many of these strange sounding names actually relate to. There was also an exhibit about endangered species, which was far more detailed than the previous exhibit and of course refined to far less species. And then there were masses of glass cases where different types of birds, animals, snakes, dragons, lizards, insects and other creepy crawlies were displayed. I thought of my nephew, Liam, as we wandered around, thinking that he would be very interested in the expertise of the taxidermy, having a passion and skill himself.

I came away knowing what northern bettongs, hairy nosed wombats, mahogany gliders, retro sliders, dugongs, womas, greater bilbies, Julia Creek dunnarts, southern cassowaries and boggomos snails are, among many other creatures. I know now that cane toads are much bigger than the frog I encountered on the way to the loo this evening and those that have tried to visit us by window entry.

After lunch under the trees on the South Bank, we re-entered the building to the Art Gallery. There are paintings and sculptures by great artists including Picasso, Henry Moore, the portraitist, Joshua Reynolds, Pissaro, Degas, Tintoretto, George Lambert, and of course many Australian artists of whom I had never heard. We were greatly impressed and rather overwhelmed. Two hours was enough for our heads, hearts and feet and so we then spent time wandering along the South Bank, or at least those parts that are no longer barricaded off. We were saddened to see that the beautiful gardens and parks we had discovered there last November were no longer.

Flood damaged Street's Beach

We caught the bus from the Cultural Centre back to Tingalpa. The reverse trip covering in part a different route confused us greatly and so we had to enlist the advice of several fellow passengers and then the driver to ensure we did disembark at the correct stop. We, and our fellow adult passengers, also had to endure crowds of school kids packed into the aisles, shoving and teasing each other as only children can. Always silly to get on a bus just after three !

We have decided to move on tomorrow morning and attempted to make contact with Tineke, Chris’s ex-niece and our special friend, by both email and through Facebook. Hopefully she will get back to us before we pull out on to the motorway and we can arrange to call in as we travel through the Gold Coast.

19 February 2011      Stott’s Island Nature Reserve, 4 kms SW of Chinderah, NSW                                                                                                                              

Finally we have crossed the border into New South Wales. I had expected some sort of fanfare given the quarantine bio-security rules spelled out in a book we were given by the CMCA. But no, it was only because the woman in the newsagent at Kirra Beach directed us to the “twin towers” at Coolongata that we did have confirmation we had in fact crossed the line.

This morning we were up promptly even after having had a disturbed night, disturbed by two couples of middle aged German tourists in an Apollo rental camper next to us at the caravan park, who obviously had been out for dinner, returned late and were unable to read the rules of the park, which included a directive for quiet after 10 pm. Needless to say, I made no effort to be quiet this morning as we busied ourselves for departure.

Tineke did get back to us, phoning while we were hitching on and so the call was missed. (I keep my cellphone in my handbag which was then waiting for me in the landcruiser) I soon returned the call and spoke to her message minder and she responded by text, explaining that she was unfortunately busy with wedding preparations and it would be impossible to hook up. I am glad that she did not try to slot us in to her undoubtedly very busy and important schedule; we will catch up with her when we next head north via the Gold Coast. Perhaps by then she will be Mrs Clutterbuck?

We left the Pacific Highway to discover Burleigh Heads and wound our way through the busy resorts south on the Gold Coast highway, down to Kirra Beach where we stopped for a cup of coffee and a walk along the beach front promenade. Kirra Beach is far nicer than Main Beach and Surfers; not nearly so busy and far less commercialised, however I suspect that a return in five years may offer a different opinion. I also accept that we visited the more northern beaches on the Gold Coast on Australia Day, and these more southern ones on a normal Saturday; hardly comparing apples with apples.

Further south, just around the corner is Coolongata, the obvious place to fly to if one was heading for the Gold Coast. It seems to have quite a busy airport, with planes coming and going at regular intervals.

We stopped at the Information Centre at Coolongata and picked up some maps and information about the Tweed Valley, where we were headed. We lunched on the northern banks of the Tweed River and then headed for our camp with poor directions in our bible. There were words and back tracking, however we did eventually find this wonderful little park, popular for many travellers such as ourselves. Chickens and a peacock compliment the usual population of birds.

We have been in touch with Clarry and asked if we could call on him and Maggie tomorrow. We will head to their town, Murwillumbah, tomorrow, settle into the campground at the showgrounds and reconnect with them to arrange a mutually suitable date. We have since been reading up on the area and suspect that we may stay at Murwillumbah for a few days and venture out to the National Parks nearby. However in our usual style, we will make those decisions as the mood strikes.

The traffic is busy and quite close to where we are parked; hopefully it will thin down as the night deepens.

Today I gleaned facts about the recent weather events, the floods of late last year and January this, and cyclone Yasi, early this month, from Brisbane’s Courier mail that are worth recording here, if only to have them for future reference:

• 36 people died from flood and cyclone related events.
• 19,000 kilometres of roads were effected.
• 29 per cent of Queensland’s rail network was damaged.
• 250,000 homes and businesses have had their power restored by Energex and an additional 193,000 have been restored by Ergon Energy.
• More that $5 billion estimated for flood restoration and reconstruction costs.
• More that $800,000 million estimated fro Tropical Cyclone Yasi restoration and reconstruction costs.
• 74,355 clams reported by Insurance Council of Australia with an estimated reserve of $2.517 billion.
• 54 coal mines affected, amounting to 15 million tonnes of coal or $2.5 million.

20 February 2011                  Greenhill’s Caravan Park, Murwillumbah, NSW

A sweltering day of temperatures ranging  through the mid thirties is drawing to a close, but cloudless day and most suitable for sightseeing; our activity of the day.

Clarry phoned up early, soon after nine o’clock asking where we were. He is currently staying at Tweed with a friend as his house is having work undertaken and Maggie is up helping her son and his family. He had travelled out to Murwillumbah, in search of us at the showgrounds, having misunderstood that our intention was to arrive there today and not yesterday, to find no one there at all. Enquiries found that the showgrounds were no longer “allowed” to offer low cost camping to travellers, and so he was naturally concerned for us.

However he came to us at our camp at Stott Island Nature Reserve and shared an early morning coffee with us while we discussed a variety of options for the day. We eventually decided that we would move on to the caravan park at Murwillumbah, and from there head out with him of a sightseeing tour. And so this we did, soon set up and off out in his car heading first about his and Maggie’s home, the delightful country town of Murwillumbah, a town of just under 10,000 people and offering all the services one would normally need.

From there we headed seaward down the Tweed River valley, whence w had come earlier from our previous camp, past great swathes of sugar cane and then to the coastal settlement of Kingscliff, and south through Salt, a very new seaside resort development built all in shades of white,  Cabarita Beach, Hastings Point, and on Pottsville where we paused for a lovely lunch at a café. We then headed inland, and by an inadvertent error, across the Mooball range on a metal road, a narrow way lined with beautiful trees, and encountered a wallaby on the side of the road, my first live one in the wild. We returned to the highway, the old Pacific Highway now known as the Tweed Valley Way, at Burringbar, and crossed over another range back to our camp at Murwillumbah.

Partners, past and present, lunching at Pottsville

 After another coffee all round, Clarry departed, leaving us to complete the setting up of our camp and then we made a quick trip into the centre of the town to visit the Visitors Centre which was about to close, and to pick up a couple of bits and pieces from the supermarket.

Since we had enjoyed a substantial lunch, we ate a simple salad for dinner, sitting inside the caravan, with the windows and vents all closed, and the airconditioner on full.

Having been offered a taste of this area by such an excellent guide, and having examined all the literature we carry and have collected, we suspect we will be here for longer than the two days we have booked in. But again, we shall see how the days ahead turn out.

It was really nice to catch up with Clarry. We were both concerned to see how he has aged since we last spent time with him, when Kit and Kyla got married, knowing that he is still working in a job that must from time to time be quite difficult for someone of his age and obvious declining physical strength. His situation is such an example, of those who live life for the moment and to the fullest, with a disregard for the future. And yet, who is to say that even we will live to his age of seventy five?

21 February 2011      Greenhill’s Caravan Park, Murwillumbah, NSW

Sitting in a very quiet camp after a very brief but violent storm, an electrical storm of more force than I can recall experiencing for decades. The storm came across from the hinterland, dark and menacing, while Chris was cooking our dinner, kanga bangers, potatoes and bok choy, on the gas cooker under the awning. We quickly moved the dinner, the chairs and the table in. Through dinner, Chris sat at the window anxiously watching the awning struggling against the wind gusts. Finally when it abated a little we dashed out into the rain and took it down. That task proved to be easier than expected; we both had had visions of me holding on to the awning rope and being lifted into the air and blown away like a kite. The reality was that I did not turn into Dorothy of the Land of Oz, or Mary Poppins dashing off at the end of an umbrella (or awning). We did, however, both get very wet.

I saw a blue flash in a caravan across the park as if a television blew up and then the power went out. Even as I type this, we are not sure whether all the power in the town has gone out, or if it is only that here in the caravan park. We do know that we are the only ones with light; thank goodness for our excellent battery resources.

We have had a wonderful day discovering this spendid area that Clarry and Maggie now call home. The Tweed Valley is nestled in the caldera of an ancient shield volcano, Mount Warning. The Tweed River rises on Mount Warning and is joined by many others rivers including the Oxley (not the tributary which feeds into the Brisbane River and flooded in January) and the Roux. The valley is surrounded in almost a circle by high bluffs above which are national parks; the Springbrook, the Border Ranges, the Nightcap and the Mooball.

This morning we drove up Mount Warning as far as the road would allow and did a short twenty minute walk into the rain forest. The alternative walk was the five hour’s trek to the top, the last part of the climb aided with ropes to the top. We decided against that. This was the first time we had aired our walking shoes; the first time since our arrival we had donned anything more than sandals (on our feet that is).

We back tracked toward Murwillumba, then headed west toward Tyalgum, then circled back east to Chillingham, both charming little settlements along this lovely inland road, mostly bush lined with the occasional banana plantation up on the north facing slopes.

At Chillingham, we headed north, up the side of this amazing basin, across the Queensland border a few kilometres to investigate the natural bridge at Numinbah, where we put our sturdy shoes to use once more. The side trip was well worth the effort; the Cave Creek flows from the top of the range north toward the Gold Coast, through a natural rock bridge, and down in the cave below we saw glow-worms and bats flying in frenzied and smelly form.

We returned over the state line and resumed our circular drive back to Murwillumbah, travelling through cattle grazing country and fields of sugar cane, finishing at the Visitors Centre to watch the DVD’s on the rainforest that we had been too late the day before to see.

Rain was threatening so we then hurried back to camp to rescue the washing I had left on the line to dry. The urgency was uncalled for, however did give warning of what was to come a couple of hours later.

Even now, at nine o’clock in the evening, the thunder is rolling around the region like cannon fire, although the wind has died down and we will probably only have rain through the night.

We have booked for another night, so will spend yet another full day tomorrow enjoying this delightful Tweed Valley. 

22 February 2011                  Greenhill’s Caravan Park, Murwillumbah, NSW

Dear God ! What terrible news today concerning the second earthquake in Christchurch. As I start this the death toll is sixty five, and sure to climb by much more. Scenes of chaos dance across our television screens, having taken priority on the Australia channels over and above the turmoil in Libya and scandal of gas drilling in Queensland and New South Wales.

Kyla advises on Facebook that her relations and family friends in Christchurch are all safe, and it would seem, that Cindy’s crew are also. Thank goodness for that! What of Auntie May’s tribe, so many in Christchurch, and Jeff’s lot? Hopefully we will learn that all are safe even if they have suffered property loss.

Clarry telephoned me at about midday, just as we had stepped out of Murwillumbah’s branch of our bank. He had heard it on the radio and suggested we hurry back to the caravan and watch the horror unfold on Channel 10. I will admit that we did not do so, for after all, what could that achieve?

In the morning we had spent nearly two hours in an amazing warehouse of emporium proportions, selling and displaying just some of the thousands of amazing lights, including chandeliers of grandiose splendour, classic cars, crockery, bric a brac, furniture, books and all other manner of things. The place is run and owned by Michael, a seventy three year old ex-pommy who says he owned about eight big lighting shops until about ten years ago. He sold them and moved up here to the Tweed Valley with thousands of dollars of stock (which suggest he walked out of his businesses rather than sold them) and then bought house loads of goods almost by default. While a couple of other customers purchased several hundred of dollars of “treasures” while we were there, we came away with two books and a never opened packet of skewers. It was just after that, and our subsequent visit to the bank that we had the call from Clarry.

And so instead of rushing back to our television screen, we walked about this charming rural town and then went for a drive around the north west side of the caldera, passing through a narrow gravel road to Urliup, through to Bilambil, then back through North Tumbulgum to Mulwillumbah; a lovely trip through bush and open land, grazing and sugar plantations.

On returning to the camp, I found I had lost my jandals which was very annoying, but not as upsetting as watching the television as the news unfolded. Somehow to dwell further on our own adventures today seems so trivial when everyone’s thoughts and concerns are on other matters.

23 February 2011                              The Border Ranges Centre, Wadesville, NSW

Another day of hideous news; the death toll now at seventy five and still counting. The TV News channel here is still broadcasting events as they continue to unfold there in Christchurch, much of the news actually being brought to us by TVNZ reporters. Liz has confirmed that her Christchurch lot are safe, and I see on Facebook that some of my friend’s friends and family are safe, but still have had no word on my own cousins, more particularly their children and grandchildren.

This morning after tearing ourselves away from the television screen, we packed up and with permission from the camp owner, left the caravan unhitched to head into town. There we shopped for provisions, visited the great little museum manned by volunteers who as usual latched themselves on to us and told us their fascinating stories. Alas we did not have all the day they thought we might, and had to excuse ourselves. Then we went on to the Tweed River Regional Art Gallery, a council run gallery in a building erected and paid for by a wealthy donor. This art gallery is just amazing and would stand proudly with any world class gallery. Again, as with that in Brisbane, we came away rather overwhelmed by the content. Ideally with galleries such a these, one needs to visit them on a weekly basis and absorb and appreciate them little by little. The artists were all either Australian or New Zealanders. There was a particular exhibition by Euan Macleod, a New Zealander, whose work was bold and awesome in the true sense of the word. This gallery is also home to the Doug Moran National Portrait Prize, the richest portrait prize in the world past winners are on display along with changing exhibitions. Who would have thought that this small rural town of Murwillumbah could host such as this!

We reluctantly left there, returned to camp, hitched up and headed on the route decided for the next stage of our journey, south west toward Kyogle. En route we pulled in to the Clarrie Hall Dam, the water reservoir for the Tweed Valley. It was completed in 1983 to supply domestic water for 60,000 residents, and projected to provide for 160,000 by 2035. Water lilies abounded near to the spillway, and there were warnings that the water could be contaminated by algae. It was a pleasant place to break our journey.

We travelled on, rising up the south west side of the caldera, on sealed but very rough road, until we reached the turnoff to this camp. It is listed in our bible as a low cost camp, however we still had to fork out $50 for our two nights booked.

It is delightfully rural, really just a corner of a farm, looking out over cleared land rimmed by gum trees, and the bush clad range beyond. Banksias line the immediate fence and I am sure that when the rain clouds lift, the views will be superb. We have high expectations of the birdlife and the otherwise peaceful setting. And most importantly, we have television reception so we can helplessly follow the news from “home”.

24 February 2011                  The Border Ranges Centre, Wadesville, NSW

There have been times in my life when an acquaintance or even a friend has died or suffered some tragedy, and while one’s thoughts are very occupied with thoughts for them, I never fail to feel surprised how life goes on around me and others, as if nothing has changed. In the same way, it is with this horrendous disaster in Christchurch. Tonight I have heard the death toll is at ninety eight, and I have also learned the heartening news that our family are all safe. And as I remarked yesterday, there is little I can do from here and so for us, life goes on pretty much as it would had the earthquake not struck that beautiful city yet again.

My mother also remarked in her email picked up tonight that we seem to have hardly covered any distance when one checks out the locations in the atlas. We have covered about two thousand kilometres since arriving here just over a month ago, and yet as we emerged from the national park access road today, there was a sign that pointed to the right, toward Brisbane, a mere 174 kilometres away.

While we hold the thought that this camp is a rip off, from a value for money perspective, we have to admit that is really is a delightful place. Last night after I had closed the computer down, we enjoyed the sight of a group of about a dozen wallabies grazing in the same paddock as we are parked up, about two hundred metres away. What a delight! One little joey was leaping about a tiny hillock, just as lambs will late in the afternoon. Lorikeets greeted us in the hedge right beside our window this morning, an encore of last nights performance.

The camp office doubles as a takeaway and bottle store, and offers a covered area not unlike a big bus shelter where his customers can stay and drink and eat their purchases. Last night there were quite a crowd there and music from both recorded and live sources. It was quite pleasant and did not disturb us into the late hours.

We had hoped that the rain would have disappeared overnight. We woke to mist through the valley, but hoped that it would burn off and we would enjoy clear views. We set off with the eski and thermos full, our walking shoes and sox already on, and wearing vests because it really was quite fresh! The preferred road into the World Heritage Borders Ranges National Park left the main road back toward Muwillumbar, then became a narrow gravel road that wound its way up through the forest. Even with the gravel surface, the road had a wonderful surface. We arrived at the official entrance to the park, where there was a self-registration setup. The fee for taking a vehicle in to the park is $7 per day. I had raided Chris’s pocket of all one and two dollar coins to replenish our laundry coin horde, and we had no cash but notes. We picked up a form, placed it in our window and proceeded with the expectation of being stopped by a ranger and then having the opportunity to pay the required fee.

At Bar Mountain, we pulled off at the first point of interest and did a twenty minute walk through the rain forest to see Antarctic beeches, trees that were originally seeded two thousand years ago, and that have died back and re-grown on the outside of the previous tree over and over again. The forest was raining on our heads, although at that point the skies were not doing so; truly a rain forest. And it was cold up there in the clouds.

We drove on to a lookout from where we should have been able to see the entire Tweed Valley below  and Mount Warning in front of us. We did glimpse some of the promised landscape but then the mist came over the top of us like a waterfall, and the view was obscured. It was quite fantastic!

On to the next view point but we were obstructed in part by a couple of trees down. We were able to pass around the side through the mud, but then we struck a doozy. Three trees right across the road in front of us. We were able to move two of them, but then the third was too big and heavy to budge. Chris reckoned he should be able to drive over it. And he did, at least he drove the front wheels over it and then was stuck. Oh hell, I thought, what a dilemma! Can’t go forward and can’t go back.

But perseverance and use of the 4WD facility conquered. Relief!!

And so on we went, until suddenly we came around the corner and …. a great forest seemed to be across the road. Fortunately a work force of four had arrived just minutes before us from the other direction, and were already attacking it with chainsaws.

We pulled out the eski and thermos and relaxed over coffee and sandwiches while the men worked. The trees had all been felled during the storm of Monday night, when we had been in Murwillumbah wrestling with the awning in the wild winds. The men said they were glad the way was clear from there on but we soon put them in the picture, explaining the obstacles we had already come through.

Mist over the Border Ranges

As the large trunks were sawn and discarded, a great brush of branches and lianas was left covering half the road. One worker suggested to the foreman that they pull it back with a chain attached to their truck, to the side of the road. "Good idea", said the foreman, and carried though his plan. He backed up pulling the pile, across to the side of the road, then foolishly continued so that all four wheels were on the soft grassy side of the road. Then he was stuck! As all but he had expected watching him reversing. We asked if we could help but he declined, saying that regulations did not allow for “civilians” to assist in such situations. They had a radio, and spades, and would get out themselves. We believe that the truth of the matter was, that this foreman was too embarrassed, and wanted us out of the way. If they were unable to remedy the situation themselves, they would have to wait at least an hour for “rescue” and that would only be if help could be dispatched immediately.

Looking out over the caldera; black boys and mist only visable

And so, rebuffed, we proceeded through the cleared road, and travelled on to the Pinnacle lookout. This is a platform on a buttress of rock perched out from the rim of the caldera, again suggesting a similar view of the valley, one thousand metres directly beneath us. Again the view was partially obscured by cloud and mist, but was still quite spectacular.

We went on to yet another parking place, from where we walked to see a giant red cedar, measuring 48 metres in height and 133 cm in diameter, and is probably 1,000 years old. It was impressive, however when one compares it to kauri trees in Northland of a similar vintage, it was just a runt, in girth at least.

We exited the park having not come upon a ranger, discarded the unused pass form, and pulled in to the camp at Sheepstation Creek, where we ate the rest of our lunch, watched by one of the many brown cuckoo doves we had encountered en route and a monitor that may have been a goanna.

Soon we were on our way back on the regular roads passing just one car heading up into the park, the only other vehicle we encountered apart from the work truck.

We came south to Kyogle where we stopped to walk up and down the street and buy icecreams. Kyogle, situated on the crossroads from Murwillembah and Lismore is an unremarkable country town in a lovely rural landscape.

Our camp lay north and so we returned to our muddy campsite and spent a pleasant hour or so with our neighbour, Linton, who is travelling with his very unwell wife. As the rain started to fall again, we came back inside to prepare dinner and consider how lucky we are to have our health and to be here in Australia.

A female wallaby with her joey in her pouch came close to the caravan this evening, but I frightened it away when I tried to get a photo. She, nor any of her tribe, have returned this evening.

25 February 2011                  Crooked Creek Rest Area, Bruxner Highway, NSW

We woke this morning to a glorious morning; the warmth of the sun already promised a brilliant day as did the bright blue sky. A couple of wallabies were just fifty metres when Chris stuck his head out to greet the morning and attend to nature’s call. The lorikeets were busy in the banksias outside the caravan window, as was a grey bird with a yellow mask that we believe to be Noisy Miner (note the miner a opposed to mynah). We ate breakfast out under the awning and then packed up to go, after a debate as to which route to take.

Clarry had told us about a place called Nimbin which is reputed to be Australia’s drug capital. He said we should go there because it was such a hard case. Linton, our neighbour of the last couple of nights had reinforced that suggestion, telling us how Nimbin was the hippy hole of the world, where lost souls wandered about in sixties hippy regalia, be they of our vintage or younger, mostly spaced out of their minds, offering marijuana to everyone and anyone. Linton said that there appeared to be one woman who acted as the mafia boss and the population of this quaint village acted as her puppets. The police apparently turn a blind eye to the carryings on at Nimbin as long as there were no other drugs involved. The description of the place together with its cute name, caught our curiosity and we considered travelling to our next destination via that route. And if we were to pass that way, we would then emerge near Lismore and so it seemed logical to check the capital of the North River region out too, before heading back west to Casino.

I picked up on this discussion this morning, no actual decision having been made the night before, and we hummed and hawed, and the decision was given to me, and so I adopted Plan A which retraced our steps of the day before through Kyogle, and then on south. As we pulled out of the camp, I said to Chris,” But if you would like to go to Nimbin…?”  Words were exchanged, and we finally stuck with our original plan, which on reflection at the end of this excellent day, I believe to be have been the right one.

And as for missing out on our weird hippy adventure …. We will no doubt come back up through this general area to catch up again with Clarry and perhaps will take the opportunity then.

The road through to Casino, which is called the Summerland Way, was as bad as the one we came through from Murwillumbah; sealed but potholed and soft on the edges. The scenery however was lovely. The road follows the Richmond River and passes through beef country, and except for the gums, could be anywhere in New Zealand.

On arriving at Casino, we checked out the Information Centre as is our normal practice and walked into a photo shoot. A local artist, Teah Fort, had just opened her exhibition titled, Rare Plastics, at the Playpus Gallery adjacent to the centre. The work was a collection of cleverly crafted plastic flowers in vases. Friends from Lismore had arrived to act as her rent-a-crowd for the purposes of the article in the news paper, but here we were just in time all the way from New Zealand, (sorry, not New York) to view her marvellous work. And so the photographer hastened to take a dozen shots of Teah and her two New Zealand fans for publication at the end of next week. We will google the Northern Star next week to see if we have become Casino famous.

After such a celebrity stunt, a wander around the trees of Casino was a bit of an anticlimax. However wander we did and found a bustling well established town serving this beef growing community well. We shopped for essentials and then returned to the vehicle to find a pleasant spot for lunch. Like all Australian towns and even the smallest of villages, Casino offered a variety of lovely little parks and picnic spots. We parked beside the bridge across the Richmond River and ate while enjoying the chorus of the parrots high in the trees above us.

We decided to push on westwards. Our goal is the New England Highway, which we left at Toowoomba. On regaining this route, we will turn south and travel through Tamworth checking out George Bevege’s old haunts before venturing further south, or alternatively turning north again if the weather turns cold.

(Note that this George is our James’ brother, and is the father of all the Australian Bevege’s and the one who was originally sent out to Australia as a convict in the 1830’s, then received a certificate of freedom before returning “home” to entice two of his brothers to come on out here.)

The Bruxner Highway runs east to Lismore and the sea, and west to Tenterfield and far beyond toward the Centre, running off the map I have before me. Travelling across the grain of the land, we passed through rolling hills not unlike the Waikato except that the farming is of beef rather than dairy cattle. We passed over the Richmond Ranges and down into the Clarence valley, crossing the Clarence River at Tabulam via the longest single span wooden bridge in the Southern Hemisphere.

We pulled off the road just 40 kilometres from Tenterfield, and checked out a camping spot gleaned from our bible. In this worth reference book, there is a warning that the last two hundred meters are steep and should be checked out before driving down. And so this is what we did, Chris decided that the road was quite acceptable so we walked back up the hill and brought the rig down through the gums, here beside the creek. A truly delightful spot shared with a couple and their dog, of course. As we close up for the day, frogs are croaking, the birds have already bunked down and we look forward to another excellent day tomorrow.

26 February 2011                  Tenterfield Showgrounds, New England, NSW

This morning we woke after a quiet night, far away from the road, to the craaking of the crows. Chris washed the landcruiser with water from the creek, taking care he was not attached by leeches. Apparently there were many about, both in the water and in the wet grass. Fortunately we did not have to administer salt to them, which is apparently the best way to detach them.

We hooked up with our neighbours and Sonya and I ended up chatting away for ages, while her husband and mine, separately packed up readying for departure. It was not until they had both started the respective engines, we broke apart with promises to hook up again on Facebook.

Sonya is an amazing young woman in her early forties whose story will have to be told elsewhere, a true Aussie battler of both immigrant and indigenous origins.

She told me that they had been disturbed by a fox in the night. I was incredulous; a fox, here in Australia ? But yes, there are foxes, and there was a carcass of one under the tree nearby to give credence to the story.

We continued our journey westward to Tenterfield, a short trip of forty kilometres, and settled into our camp here at the showgrounds before lunch. After lunch, we walked back up to the main street, and visited the Sir Henry Parkes Memorial School of Arts Museum. Henry Parkes is best known for his fiery and impassioned support for the Federation of the Australian colonies. His campaign peaked with his famous Federation speech to the people of Tenterfield at the Tenterfield School of Arts on 24 October 1889. He won immortality as the “Father of Federation”with his catchcry “One People, One Destiny”.

Our camp in the Tenterfield Showgrounds

We were escorted through this brilliant exhibition, or perhaps one should say, shrine, by a volunteer who otherwise works as a journalist. He entertained and informed us in a superb manner and it was $8 well spent.

The town was otherwise empty, it being Saturday, and so we returned to the campgrounds to catch up with emails and the latest news on Christchurch.

Tenterfield is a rural town situated on the crossroads of the Bruxner and New England Highway with a population of just over 3,000 people, established way back in the 1850s. Many of the buildings are very old, and it does have a charm. The river that runs through it and is right next to us here has obviously flooded in the not too distant past. We figured that if it were to flood again to the same level, we would be underwater in our bed! The rain that is trying to fall right now, is however not of the flooding kind.

 27 February 2011                             Tenterfield Showgrounds Campgrounds

We were woken after seven this morning by Kit. The telephone rang and there he was. It certainly was time we were awake particularly on such a beautiful morning when we had plans to fill.  However it was quite strange, firstly that the telephone should ring, and secondly that we should be woken up by it. Fortunately there was no bad news or at least no tragedy.

After breakfast and packing a picnic lunch, we set off for the Boonoo Boonoo National Park, to the falls on the Boonoo Boonoo river. As we followed that river after crossing the top of the Great Divide, it soon became more than a trickle and the evidence of flooding in the recent past showed that it could become a raging torrent. The falls start as large pools tumbling from one to another, sometimes for swimming in but closed for access today. As we followed the pathway a huge valley opened up before us and the wonder of these falls was revealed to us. The river falls 210 metres off the New England Tablelands into the Clarence valley. The drop is spectacular, the falls equally so. Now I have dragged Chris around for years from one waterfall to another and he reckons that eighty per cent could be given a miss. This however wowed him and was well worth the visit, even for a fall-doubter such as he.

On the road out to the falls we encountered wallabies who dashed away as we neared, and on the pathway to the river, a very large monitor, probably a goanna, which would have been more than a metre long. It darted away from us and clambered up a gum tree.

Returning to the Mt Lindsay road, we continued on to the Bald Rock National Park. The forest here was as beautiful as that we had passed through earlier in the day. We came to the picnic area from where we set off on a two hour walk. Bald Rock is Australia’s largest granite rock, standing 260 metres above the surrounding landscape of rocky outcrops. From the summit we could see north far into Queensland and east back toward the Richmond Range. The large granite rocks grew larger and larger the higher we climbed, but none prepared us for the huge expanse of granite we traversed to the summit. The effort was truly worth it.

Prone sheep

We returned to the car park to enjoy a very late lunch and decided against carrying on north toward Stanthorpe and then south to the Girraween National Park, concerned that we would be too rushed and too tired to enjoy the rest of what would be a very long day. Instead we headed back toward Tenterfield and set off on an hour long drive labelled the Mt McKenzie Drive.  This was advertised as a short drive offering the opportunity to view unusual granite outcrops and the views above the town.

The thirty eight kilometre drive was far more than suggested. It took us out into grazing country where we saw sheep for the first time here in Australia, and cattle along with a few goats. The pasture was covered with granite outcrops. The road turned to dusty gravel soon after leaving town, and wound its way from one farm to another, over cattle-stops. The recent rain had obviously done its best to destroy the roads; in fact we came across a couple of signs that said the road was closed, but we persevered with the intention of turning back if we had to. We did get through and were so glad we had gone on. It was a marvellous trip. The views from the top of Mt McKenzie, 1,298 metres above sea level, were stupendous.

It was not too far back to the camp from there and we relaxed after a very busy and wonderful day. Tomorrow we may (or may not) set off to do the other half of the trip that was planned for today. We have extended our stay here, by one day at this stage, but are contemplating further days with something completely different in mind. However tomorrow is another day, and we will sleep on that.

28 February 2011                  Tenterfield Showgrounds Camp, NSW    

Here we are enjoying a balmy evening, the last day of summer, camped by the river with twenty or more other parties. The raucous noise of birds brought darkness and now there is just the chorus of the cicadas.

We have had another lovely day sightseeing in this surprisingly beautiful area. Today, after waking to yet another gloriously sunny day and breakfasting outdoors, we drove up to the Giraween Natonal Park which is just a little west of the New England Highway between Stanthorpe and Tenterfield, across the Queensland border. Despite the fact that this park is simply the western extension of the Bald Rock National Park we were in yesterday, still in granite country, and across the border which runs along the top of the Great Divide at that point, the park was quite different.

On arrival, we spotted four grey kangaroos grazing in the picnic area of the park, and slowly moved toward them, step by step. We were just three metres from them when they bounded away. My first kanga encounter!!

Part way up the Pyramid

After checking in at the park headquarters and finding that half the tracks that were marked closed were actually open, we went for a two hour walk, intending to ascend the Pyramid, yet another mountain of granite. We followed the path through the beautiful eucalypt forest and past rocky outcrops and wetlands to the base of the exposed rock face. We started up but I pulled the plug on the ascent just halfway up that final face. The descent was just a difficult, taking tiny steps and thankful that the soles on our new shoes had such good grip. The Rock beat us!

                                                      

Returning to the car park, we lunched and headed back to the camp, calling in to the supermarket to re-provision the caravan in anticipation of our departure tomorrow.

The rock that beat me

We had briefly contemplated offering ourselves to the voluntary force that is working in the area, mainly restoring fences destroyed by the recent floods. Many of our fellow campers are already engaged in this activity, receiving free camping, morning tea, lunch and dinner gratis in return for their efforts. Many of these same campers are retired contractors, fencers, drivers, Jacks of all trades. We did wonder what we could offer, and in the end decide that the time was not right for us to join their forces. There will no doubt be other such opportunities.

Today’s trip as so many of those over the past month, we have viewed the evidence of the forces of nature. Seeing these small creeks and the destruction they are capable of helps one understand how the rivers wrought so much havoc in the Lockley Valley west of Brisbane, and of course, a reminder that man can never hope to tame nature, as is also evident in the recent cyclone up north and the earthquake that has rocked Christchurch. We are really no more than the ants that annoyed us over lunch today.

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