8 July 2011 - Home Hill Comfort Stop, Queensland

Beside another rail line tonight, but so much closer. Each time a train passes the television screen goes blank and we have to wait until the last carriage has passed. Fortunately it is just Master Chef Class night rather than another episode of gripping competition. We are following the series as avidly as television reception allows, as well as the Tour de France (the latter for me, just the highlights). It is all so very exciting!

Last night passed without great event, however I did seem to wake often even if for a moment to identify the source of rail or road noise. After breakfast we travelled the relatively short distance of 56 kilometres to Home Hill, a journey through flat lands as the day before, with random peaks all about.

Home Hill is an RV Friendly Town, all good news for us and the other 100,000 travellers on the road. We filled with water as we entered the town, driving in to a rather wet park and having to utilise the 4WD function to exit without tearing the surface up. At this Comfort Stop between the main street and the railway, we found that a dozen motorhomes and caravans had already arrived and staked their claim to the best spots. While we missed out on a personal grassy terrace, we are on a very level gravel spot, with a railway metal picket fence just beyond our door.

Homehill

After lunch and lounging about in a thoroughly decadent way, we walked up and down the street with the self-guide brochure, calling in to see the gallery of Aboriginal – Torres Strait Islander artist Aicey Zaro whose work we absolutely loved. After years of working away with little reward, he just recently secured a fantastic sale of several art works; about half a dozen paintings priced in the vicinity of $4,500 each to the one buyer. Hopefully this will be the impetus of great financial success for him, something that is often so elusive for living artists.

We also visited the Silver Link Interpretive Centre where there is a large collection of photos of floods here in 1948 (when the rail bridge across the Burdeken River was washed away), 1958 and more recently, and damage suffered from Cyclone Charlie in 1987 and Cyclone Aivu just one year later.

The bridge over the Burdeken River took ten years to build, cost $6 million, is 1,103 metres long and is the only bridge in Australia built without a firm foothold. This is because of the unstable sand base in the river. The road and rail both cross on the bridge, know as the “Silver Link”. Home Hill is situated on this side of the river, Ayr on the other. We will cross this tomorrow when we travel to Ayr just ten kilometres away. Photos of the construction process are also on view.

The Burdeken River is one of Australia’s more significant river systems, the catchment area of about 130,000 square kilometres. The Burdeken Falls Dam is 159 kilometres up river from Home Hill and an awful lot further to access by road, so unfortunately we will have to be satisfied with the DVD that was also showing at the Silver Link Interpretive Centre. This, along with weirs further down river, control the flow of the river for irrigation and flood control.

The Burdeken region is built on a coastal aquifer, a huge underground lake of water running just ten metres below the land’s surface. This constant supply of fresh water is often referred to locally as “liquid gold”, and is pumped up and piped to the farms producing sugar cane and other horticultural crops. This aquifer is said to be one of the largest in Australia and contains over 20 million mega litres of water.

We fudged out for the rest of the afternoon; I actually fell asleep for an hour, something I haven’t done since we arrived here in Australia. Chris counted thirty eight rigs in at 5 p.m., and they were still pouring in.

Sunset and sugar cane fires

The Comfort Stop is obviously this large parking area, two sides of a back street along the railway line, has free showers, toilets, parenting facilities, barbeques and eating areas. It was opened in 2004 in an attempt to capture the tourists who were otherwise proceeding through to Ayr without stopping here and the town was in its death throes. I just hope that the dozens of tourists in here tonight spent at least as much as we did in Home Hill, hopefully a lot more. Good on Home Hill for such innovative thinking!

This evening we witnessed a rather spectacular sunset. Clouds of smoke from the cane fires were evident in the distance, but fortunately blowing the other way.

7 July 2011 - Guthalungra Rest Area, Queensland

Late afternoon on the side of the Bruce Highway in the company of about twenty other caravanners and motorhomes, lined up either side of the roadway that encircles the rest area. The railway runs the other side of the road, and we are right on a cross road where the lesser road heads for a little frequented National Park. While absolutely safe, it could be one of those camps where I circle and underline the symbol in our bible that shows there is road noise.

We left Prosepine this morning and headed north west, because that is the direction one must travel to reach the more northern settlements on the Queensland coast. Bowen was only sixty or so kilometres up the road so we were there in time to do a grocery shop at Woolworths and then dine beside the Mullers Lagoon close by. After lunch we walked along part of the shoreline then drove back through the town down to the seashore at Port Dennison.

Bowen is twice the size of Prosepine, holds the title of North Queensland’s oldest town, first discovered by a Captain Sinclair in 1859, and declared a town two years later.

The first white inhabitant of the place however was James Morrill who had been shipwrecked in 1846, washed ashore and living among the aborigines for seventeen years before he presented himself to fellow whites, crying, “Don’t shoot mates. I’m a British subject.” Obviously those washed ashore do not count as discoverers.

Bowen has been the rural service centre of a thriving cattle industry for years and was also a base for the Catalina Flying Boats during the battle of the Coral Sea in World War II when Port Moresby became too vulnerable to continue being so. 

More recently, in 2007, Bowen became Bowenwood for a few months while Bas Luhrman filmed “Australia” here; the big screen saga starring Nicole Kidman and Hugh Jackman. Locals were used as extras and the town played host to all those who put the film together, along with all those who came to see the film being put together. The Darwin in the film is in fact Bowen, and is not hard to see why Bowen was selected for this role. While I have yet to see Darwin and therefore my opinion is without sound base, commercialism has not spoiled the authenticity of the place, despite the fact that it boasts beaches that are part of the Whitsunday, and the buildings are tired, original and uninspiring. Facades were placed over many of the buildings and of course the block which was first used as the “station” and then converted into “Darwin”, was blown up in the “bombing”. Since then the whole sea frontage at the bottom of the main street has been modernised with BBQ areas, and is very stylish. Alas the buildings up the main street are still as they were before.

But… before you think that Bowen is best left to stagnate alone, it is worth wandering the wide streets, the pedestrian edges currently being carpeted with artificial grass, and taking in the many murals that grace the otherwise dreary buildings. One is commissioned every two years; there are currently twenty four of them, telling the story of the town and the people who have contributed to its history. Many are done by the same artists, all are worth a look, and many could do with some freshening up; the sun plays havoc with the paint pigments.

Despite any negativity one might have gleaned from the above, we did spend quite a few hours in Bowen and would recommend that one calls in from the Bruce Highway for at least as long as we did, before heading on one’s way.

It should also be noted that just north of Bowen the rail road comes in from further west to the international coal terminal at Abbot’s Point. Bowen also boasts a thriving horticultural industry and many backpackers stay in the place to work in the vegetable gardens. Unfortunately for us, we had stocked up on normally priced vegetables at the Woolworths supermarket before spotting the vege market on the main road north of Bowen.

Our drive on from Bowen was uneventful but later than it should have been because on arriving here at this rest area we found ourselves to be the eleventh seeker of a camp spot. This will however have to do. 

6 July 2011 - Proserpine Tourist Park, Queensland

Shute Harbour

Sunshine always helps a place shine, and so it has been today as we have explored the countryside around Proserpine. This morning we drove north east to the coastal resort of the Whitsundays, firstly heading to the end of the road at Shute Harbour, from where all tours leave for the many islands offshore. The lookout above the busy jetty area  is a delightful outlook toward the glistening water in the very sheltered bays created by the islands and shore. Apart from parking in metered parking areas and setting out on walks into the Conway National Park, there was little to do, so we headed back through the built up seaside settlements, and parked on the esplanade at Airlie Beach. We walked along the seafront promenade which skirts the relatively natural beach where large signs warn of the dangers of swimming in the water, particularly during the six months or so spanning the summer, when stingers or jellyfish lurk waiting to spoil the joys of bathing. To counter this negative aspect of seaside activities, there is a large and very beautiful lagoon, filled regularly with safe filtered water, warmed by the sun and surrounded with tropical palms. Today children swam in this lagoon and dozens of sunseekers lay around the perimeter in total disregard for UV driven skin cancer.

Airlie Beach's manmade lagoon

When we returned to the cruiser to fetch the eski, we were addressed by a chap who was pulling his generator from his caravan ready to disturb the scene. “Didn’t I see you on top of the mountain the other day?” he asked.

I responded that he probably had, depending on which mountain. It turned out that he had seen us when we were up at the look out at Eungella, admiring the panorama back to Mackay. We started chatting and it turned out that he had been a cotton farmer, near Boomi, in fact on the farm opposite Karamba. How was that for co-incidence! He and his wife are on their way around the continent, anti-clockwise. We could well run into them again because for now, we are on the same route.

After lunch we walked up and down the streets of this buzzing tourist town, amazed at the throng of tourists, the majority between the age of twenty and thirty. No doubt the low cost restaurants are making a killing during the day and the bars at night. Wicked and Spaceship campers were a dime a dozen, their passengers plugged into to free power at the amenities and their washing hanging across hastily strung up lines in the car parks.

We loved the feel of the place and both agreed that for those who liked holidays by the beach, lying about, eating and drinking in cafes and the like, adding to their wardrobes with bright summer clothes, in the sun and warmth, this was the place to come. But for us a couple of hours in such a place, is enough.

Travelling back toward Proserpine, we paused at a camping store in Cannonvale and mozzied around there for ages, buying nothing but appreciating the wares on offer. We spoke to the assistant about the caravans we had seen on the road yesterday, thinking that she just might know what The Event was we had missed. There has been no such Happening, only the normal movement of the caravan travellers for this time of the year. She remarked that she had heard that there were apparently 10,000 Victorians on the road in caravans this year in Queensland. She was not actually sure whether that was the number of vans or people, but even considering it was people rather than caravans, that is an awful lot of custom for the tourist service providers. And of course that does not include the likes of us!

Cedar Creek Falls

We took a side trip to the Cedar Creek Falls, off the Proserpine - Shute Harbour Road, and found that we were not the only ones to find them delightful. There were quite a few young people, possibly holidaying high school kids, swimming in the pool beneath the falls. We climbed the rocky face to the top of the falls, to see the lovely quiet unsuspecting pools of water, and then descended without event.

 On the way back out to the main road, we spotted several perfect subjects for my photographic experiments; the first a camel enjoying grass hand fed by some German children, the second, a relatively new born Brahmin Cross calf and finally, cattle quietly grazing with their egret companions perched on their heads. I am fascinated by the fact that when you see cattle out in the paddocks, there are nearly always white egrets standing sentinel, or perhaps marking their choice of beast like soccer players do. Unfortunately the egrets all rose in unison as I approached the fence, and so I returned to the cruiser without success.

Newborn Brahmin calf with family

Driving closer toward Proserpine, we noted smoke rising from several locations, apart from the sugar mill chimney. We had read about cane burning still taking place in this area; apparently the particular varieties of cane grown here are best dealt with this way before harvest. Most cane is harvested green nowadays which is much better for the environment. We drove and drove westwards, as if chasing rainbows. The further we drove, the further away the fires. It reminded me of a day when I detoured from a trip to the Bay of Plenty perhaps fifteen years ago, to chase a tornado on the Hauraki Plains. Crazy behaviour ! This does prove we are as insane as any one else. We found ourselves close to Lake Proserpine and the Peter Faust Dam, and so pressed on to view this large water reservoir, water for the Whitsunday region and for flood control.

I took the wheel from there and brought us home, back through the sugar cane fields, through town to this lovely caravan park for our last night.

5 July 2011 - Prosephine Tourist Park, Queensland

Yet another late afternoon outside; how lucky are we with the weather! We drove on up this morning from Finch Hatton, cutting across to the Bruce Highway from Marian rather than back tracking all the way through to Mackay. The road we travelled over was more undulating land than that south of Mackay, but the sugar cane fields continued on all the way through to the flat river plains of the Proserpine River, interspersed with some cattle holdings.

It is always strange to resume travel on the busy roads, and stranger still today to pass so many caravan rigs. An extremely conservative guess would suggest upward to a hundred, all travelling south toward the cooler weather. Obviously there has been a major event further north that is now over, one we did not get to but will hopefully find out about, just to satisfy our curiosity.

Proserpine is of course a rural centre to this sugar growing region, and the administrative centre for the Whitsunday coast. We are still 35 kilometres away from those famous shores, famous as a tourist destination and a hop off point to the more famous islands; Hamilton, Long, Hayman, Lindeman, and seventy more. Apparently 800,000 visitors visit this region annually.  Less than two months ago Larissa and her family joined their ranks, disembarking from their cruise to enjoy the wonders of Airlie Beach which is part of the Town of Whitsunday, along with Cannonvale, Jublilee Pocket, Flame Tree and Shute Harbour. Tomorrow we will spend the day exploring the land bound wonders of this area.

In the meantime we are parked up in Proserpine at the council caravan park, paying a rather hefty $27 per night (hefty for a council park, that is) booked in for a couple of nights. The park is right next door to the council’s heated Olympic pool, within site of the local sugar mill, within hearing of the rail and just a few blocks from the main street shopping centre. The sites are in booths lined with trees, offering privacy and shade.

We arrived just before midday, set up, lunched, did a load of laundry, then walked down into the town centre. The town has all services one requires including a couple of supermarkets, a couple of hardware stores and newsagents, a Transport Authority office and several banks among other sundry shops. Our electric kettle (purchased back in January for the grand sum of $9.95) had died a few days ago; we managed to find a replacement at Crazy Clarks. At the Woolworths we purchased a few food items as well as a replacement can opener which had also died and a wonderful steamer pot which fits our existing cookware. The Home Hardware store sold Chris a plumbing bracket he needed, promising a refund if it does not fit and were just so friendly.

We walked back in the sunshine very satisfied with the service we had received in this rural town, and decided to have a swim. One length in the chilly water was all we managed before coming back across to camp and soaking in a hot shower in the excellent camp amenities.

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

The toi-toi-like tops of the sugar cane

Today has been another magic day full of sunshine and the warmth of a northern winter. As I start this I am again sitting out under the awning, clad in summer wear, listening to the raucous chorus of the birds in the trees between the camp and the village. Numerous cane wagons sit full on the line waiting for the locomotives to haul them off to the mill. The toi toi like fluffy tops of the sugar cane in the field behind us catch the late afternoon sunlight, barely moving in the lightest of breezes. I shall be sad to leave this delightful spot, however we are now ready to move on again and will do so in the morning.

Last night we received a Skype call from my parents so I am now assured that we have all technical problems sorted there. I look forward to the more frequent and personal contact in the months ahead.

Today was yet another late start, as I am sure our mornings will continue to be through the next three weeks. Two o’clock bedtimes do not make for early rising, and I must be making up for the months of missing out on my previously normal ten to twelve hours of sleep. By August I should be dangerous, already feeling so much healthier than I was a year ago!

We headed off on a "dam day", to visit Kinchant Dam, south of Mirani and east sou’east of our camp here at Finch Hatton. Firstly we called in at Gargett at Celsa’s Trading Post, a shop full of bric-a-brac that apparently draws their custom from far and wide, probably those heading to the Pinnacle Pub for their world famous pies. The shop was indeed a treasure den, but no more or less than we have seen in many other places both here and in New Zealand. However I did find four books worth purchasing; more to add to our weighty library.

The art gallery next door which is also on the Must-do list for the Pioneer Valley, was closed and does not reopen until Thursday.

Kinchant Dam

From Gargett, we headed south east through Septima and acres and acres of sugar cane farmland, with the odd small cattle holding, crossing Cattle Creek which runs behind us here, and then on across the Pioneer River which the latter feeds into. As we neared Eton, just slightly west of Homebush where we stayed over night at the General Gordon all those days ago, we turned north and west again to the Kinchant Dam. This is simply a reservoir for holding water pumped up from the weir on the Pioneer River, with a very long low dam wall. The parklands available for public recreation are delightful and we found a wonderful spot under a shelter to eat our lunch. 

Butcher birds and honey-eaters came so near, hoping to share our crumbs, calling plaintively in such an enticing way that Chris gave way and sacrificed a good proportion of his lunch to these begging birds. A kookaburra set himself up in a nearby tree to watch the proceedings and I kept a watch on him. Anecdotes suggest that they are capable of flying down and grabbing one’s lunch in a flash, just as you raise it to your mouth.

Friendly Blue Honeyeaters

After walking along to the lookout, we drove on and back to Mirani, where we had lunched two days ago, and on back to Finch Hatton. We then took advantage of the lovely day and went for a wander along the river at the bottom of the camp and around the village, buying some stamps at the post office.

We met up with a couple of Kiwis, Stuart and Lisa, who have been here in Australia for seven years and travelling like us for two and a half of those. They are currently working on the sugar harvest as "DAs", or driver’s assistants to the locomotive drivers. They told us all about the work and naturally we were fascinated. Finch Hatton has us in its spell and if it were not for the fact that we requested Pauline to forward our vehicle registration sticker to the post office at Townsville (and the Tour de France being underway) we would most likely stay on, Chris taking up work here. Apparently they are short handed here, needing more drivers and DAs. Perhaps there will be similar work available around Townsville in an equally delightful spot.

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!)

1 July 2011 - Central Tourist Park, Mackay, Queensland

Overnight the winds had blown most of the bad weather away and so we woke to a clearer day, looking forward to seeing a sunny Mackay. With lunch packed in the eski, we headed toward the sea, firstly to the port and marina, on the northern side of the river. A line of high-rise apartments in pastel colours stand isolated on the shore line, the busy sugar loading wharf to the north and the sheltered marina on the sea side, packed with motor launches. A few restaurants and cafes are tucked back behind the lovely palms, and promised gourmet delights at gourmet prices. All that was lacking were the people. It was barely ten o’clock but so very quiet. We hoped that the tourists or regulars would turn up for the weekend.

The route to Mackay’s northern beaches is by another route from the city so we had to back track before heading off to see what they had to offer. The wind was still brisk and the sea was still wild and uninviting. At Shoal Point we discovered a more sheltered bay and wandered along the shoreline observing several holidaying families doing the same but not so concerned about getting their feet wet.

Further south Dolphin Heads and Blacks Beach had little to offer the touring public except narrow access ways more suited to the locals. Lunch time arrived and we were at a loss to find a sheltered picnic spot, so returned to the city and found the Botanic Gardens. The 48 hectares of parklands are home to a couple of lagoons that were apparently once the main channel of the mighty Pioneer River. After lunch we wandered along the banks of the lagoons through the beautiful trees, delighting in the birdlife and the sunshine.

After an hour or so, we returned to camp via Coles where we stocked up in readiness for several days away from civilisation.