Saturday, July 2, 2011

3 July 2011 - Pioneer Valley Showgrounds, Finch Hatton, Queensland


How lovely it is to be sitting outside in the mid-afternoon, wearing shorts and jandals (among other things) in the middle of winter! We have just returned from a wonderful drive up into the Finch Hatton Gorge where we went two and a half hours walking and enjoying the waterfalls that plunge from Mount Dalrymple, toward the Pioneer Valley via the Finch Hatton Creek. Despite the promise of hundreds of varieties of birdlife, the only distinct call we heard was that of the kookaburra. Sunday in the middle of the school holidays is not a happy and peaceful time for such creatures; they escape the multitude of day trippers for the far reaches of the forest.

We left Mackay yesterday morning and made our way west through the Pioneer Valley, pausing at Marian to visit a past home of the great opera singer Nellie Melba which is now the local information centre. As one finds all too often when a famous person has spent a nano-second of their life in a certain place, a shrine rises up in their honour and in the first instance one could not be blamed for thinking that person was born, lived, learned or performed their great deed in that place and finally was laid to rest there. In this instance, Helen Mitchell, as she was born, came with her widowed father who was a principal figure in the building of the sugar mill in Marian, met a Mr Armstrong who was a son of a British Lord, and therefore assumed to be Someone, fell madly in love, married in haste, and spent the rest of her two year stay in this area, miserable as sin. Apparently she always avoided speaking of her time in Marian when she was later famous and asked about her life, and yet this town has embraced her as their own. The volunteer working in the centre has an encyclopaedic knowledge of Dame Nellie Melba as she became and of the wonders of this valley through to the Eungella National Park, 53,000 hectares, Australia’s largest continuous stretch of rainforest, the main draw card of this side trip. He invited us to listen to a recording of Nellie’s music and would have stayed with us for hours had another touring couple not arrived. It was all very interesting but hunger pains for lunch were calling. We escaped and drove on the 10 kilometres to Mirani, a delightful village set among the cane fields beside the mighty Pioneer River, where we parked on the roadside and had lunch.

Maps and brochures of this region offered us so much, but we decided to head on through to our camp and then using that as a base, discover all that we could. We did however call at the Pinnacle Pub to buy a couple of their very famous pies for dinner. The pub was buzzing, people having driven from a far to enjoy a beer and a pie on this Saturday afternoon. The pies were expensive but absolutely delicious, to be recommended for sure.

We found the Finch Hatton Showgrounds at the western end of yet another delightful village, across the cane rails, past the cane truck loading yard, and toward the river. There are several campers here, perhaps twelve including us and two caravanners that were in Mackay’s Central Tourist Park with us. There is a permanent caretaker, however she is currently away and so we have yet to pay. Hopefully she will turn up tomorrow so that we can do the decent thing, which two tourist vanners did not, leaving early this morning.

After setting up, we drove further west up to the top of the Clarke Range, the last five kilometres rising about 1000 metres, too steep to pull the caravan up easily. There at Eungella, we enjoyed the stupendous view down the valley toward Mackay. A little south on the way to Broken River, there was another opportunity to walk to a spot named the Sky Window, from where the views were even more splendid.

About five kilometres further on we arrived at Broken River and parked at a well renowned platypus spotting place. Chris had seen platypus in Tasmania about forty years ago, and thought we had little chance of seeing them here. They are very retiring creatures, and while not on the endangered species list, rarely seen in the wild. Dusk and dawn are the most likely times, however this was only just after three o’clock. We were therefore delighted to find a small one swimming about in the waterhole below the viewing platform, diving and foraging in the depths of the pool for several minutes then up for a breathe before repeating the performance. After a while, he (or she) worked their way away up a tributary the other side and so out of view. We left very happy to have seen this little fellow, possibly 35 cm in length, obviously not fully grown.

Back at camp we were entertained by the cane trains and specialist cane cage hauling trucks, loading, shunting and unloading. They worked on through the night; the harvest season is certainly in full throttle.

Last night was a Big Night, what with the Tour de France starting and the women’s final at Wimbledon, all happening on one night. As a result we slept late this morning and did not get away until about ten o’clock.

Araluen Cascades
We drove up through the cane fields, heading north and up the Finch Hatton Creek, crossing several fords and winding on up a pot holey gravel road. This same road did not deter the many others who made the same trip even later in the day than us. We picnicked up at the Wheel of Fire, a rather strange name for a waterfall. This and the Araluen Cascades we later walked to, offered fabulous swimming holes. It is winter, however at the second hole there were several mad people who did try the water out. We had crossed the river barefoot further up on the track and while it was not as bad as you might imagine, there was no way we could have been tempted to immerse more than our feet!

It is rather nice to be just sitting, listening to the birds of Finch Hatton, and in the distance, the sound of music coming from the Pub in the village. Tonight will see Djockovich and Nadal battle it out on the grass court, and the second stage of the Tour. (I was curious to read in the newspaper yesterday that since 1911, the race has been steadily reduced from 5,350 kilometres to this year’s 3,350. Imagine racing on a non-geared bike for 5,350 kilometres!! My bottom hurts just thinking about it!)

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