24 August 2012 - Mulgildie Hotel, North Burnett, Queensland

I woke early this morning to the sounds of the country birds all about; the magpies and crows, the galahs and all the others that abound, although the kookaburras seen last night were silent, if there at all. I was also pleased to hear a whispered “Happy Birthday” wish from my waking husband; I did wonder if he would remember. The strange thing is that I feel no older today than yesterday, and while this is a common statement one makes on such auspicious occasions, I have been this same age all year, having adopted a calendar year to age myself rather than my own personal historical marker. This is convenient if rather irregular, I suspect.

Not only had my dear husband remembered to offer me birthday greetings, but there was a gift as well. Given that we have agreed not to exchange presents at all, this was most unexpected. Of course I frequently ignore this agreement and buy my husband chocolates for his special days, but this is of course quite acceptable. His gift to me was rather special; the scandalous and bestselling novel, Fifty Shades of Grey! And when did he have the opportunity to buy it, given that we are constantly in one another’s company? While I was having my hair cut a few weeks ago. A man must be given kudos for such deeds!

Last night after having an excellent game of scrabble, excellent for the fact that I won, we stood out under the night sky, clear but for the billions of stars and the lunar sliver, all defying the promise of rain.

And then this morning, the rain, all one hundred large drops of it, had passed by the time we pulled away from our overnight stop.  We continued on north west soon covering the mere twenty seven kilometres through to Gayndah. This township along with Mundubbera and Eidsvold, is a CMCA RV Friendly town and as such, offers travellers a wonderful array of camping spots and other facilities.

Gayndah’s boast to fame is as Queensland’s oldest town, settled in 1849. I am sure there are many others which have the same claim to fame, and many we have passed through however perhaps, just perhaps, this is the oldest still only considered a town rather than a city? The town sits high on the banks of the Burnett River and yet flood markers at street level show how high the river has risen over the town. The 1942 flood was the worst to date and in recorded history, when the houses on the far side of the highway and main street, away from the river lay eleven metres under water. When you stand at the top of the river bank and gaze up to the buildings, it is just amazing to consider the power and volume of water at such times. 

Gayndah’s other claim to fame is as the “Orange Capital”, of what I am not sure, however there are quite a few citrus orchards about and a number of roadside stalls selling mandarins and oranges.

We walked up and down the main street, and while applauding the welcome travellers are given to this small town of less than 2,000 folk, could find little to keep us here. The town has all services and supplies, but gives the impression of having been renovated after that 1942 flood and not since.

Gayndah does have internet reception, so we set the computer up to collect emails, of which there were several including greetings from my parents and my two sisters.

Forty four kilometres further on, passing up and over along the lumpy and bumpy sealed highway, through beautiful open beef grazing land, we arrived at Mundubbera, a slightly smaller town with a little over 1,000 inhabitants.  This town was surveyed back in 1863, but I have to say that without that knowledge I would have suggested it was after the floods of 1942. This, along with Eidsvold, supposedly near or on the Burnett River, are so far elevated that there is absolutely no danger of the same inundation Gayndah has been subjected to over the years. Again we walked up and down and purchased a water tank cart for use as a waste tank to complete what we consider “self-containment”.

We discovered an art exhibition tucked away behind the council library by two women, one of women and scenes of Africa, the other of women and scenes of Pacifica. We chatted with the volunteer at the desk and admired the work before heading back to the rig, generally unimpressed with Mundubbera despite our canny purchase and the art encounter.

Another low range of hills and another thirty five kilometres, and we arrived at Eidsvold, an even smaller town perched on the side of a hill away from the river. This was founded in 1848 and remained principally a service centre for the cattle stations about the area until gold was discovered in the 1860s. In the 1880s, Eidsvold was a bustling gold mining town of over 2,000 people, but all good things come to an end, so they say, and it is now what it was in the beginning.  But there is the addition of the RM Williams Australian Bush Learning Centre which also serves as the Information Centre. Today one half of the building was hosting a writers’ workshop with the guest writer, one of RM William’s daughters. The other half houses a museum of sorts, explaining the life and achievements of RM Williams and the gold mining past of the town. When one travels through rural Australia, one is bound to see the RM Williams brand relating to leather products and many matters country. And if you are like us, (who is?) then you might tend to avoid these products as being rather too pricey but also wonder who and what RM Williams is or was.   

The pub at Mulgidie

In a nutshell, he was a country boy raised amongst horses and a horsey family, poorly educated who went off to make his fortune at the tender age of fourteen. He tried his hand at many tasks as such “runaways’ did in those days; camel trekking, masonery, leatherwork and general stockmanship. A bushman wandering past his camp up in the Flinders one day where he had established his wife and children, showed him some clever ways to work with leather and before you know it, RM (as he seems to be known) had started manufacturing boots, saddles, whips and other bits and pieces. Riches came and he moved his long suffering family to a palatial residence in Adelaide, but all this proved too much for our simple RM who was apparently not too clever at managing money. The marriage failed and he moved back into the “bush” and yes, you guessed it! To a station just out of Eidsvold hence this local claim on the entrepreneur. He met a horse riding, like minded woman, who managed to pull him into line, provide a few more children and the rest was history. (I am not sure whether the writer is from the first or second family; probably the second since she was keen to pass this way.) So if you check your smart leather boots and find they have RM Williams engraved on the sole, you will know how it all came to be. In a nutshell, that is.

Our camp beside the Pub

And so after this further education in Australia and all matters Australian, we came on through more hills, more beautiful yellow flowering wattle, and down into a wide valley, still on the Burnett Highway to this free camp beside the Mulgildie pub, quaint, for sale, desperately in need of maintenance and tended by a pretty blond European backpacker.

The sun is shining brightly in through the window, from across the valley. It is a glorious evening and my husband is in the process of preparing dinner; devilled sausages. My mother had requested that I keep my cellphone on all day however there has been absolutely no Vodafone reception all day, and very little on Chris’s Telestra. Internet reception here in Mulgildie is so minimal I cannot even send her an email to tell her any of this. 

We popped back to see the barmaid and purchased a bottle of cold chardonnay. Her boss was working the bar, all fellow travellers; she was a middle aged version of the back packer, blond more bottle and complexion more sunbaked. Better sign off and toast another year!