15 July 2011 - Black River Stadium, Queensland

Early evening and dinner is cooking in the gas oven. Chris is horrified by the smell of garlic that permeates the van; it was not evident on the packaging of the prepared meatloaf purchased at the supermarket. I, on the other hand, am looking forward to the vibrant flavours that this cooking suggests.

Outside ankle deep water lies all about, leaving our own particular camp site like a moated castle. Others are not quite so lucky, however all are caravans or motorhomes, so there is not too much suffering going on. The rain has abated a little and the thunder storm passed on south, so all is quiet for now.

The forecasted rain had not arrived this morning; the day suggested better weather altogether. Based on that premise, I did a load of washing, hung it under the awning, packed lunch and we were off for our day’s exploration.

There had been a little suspense in the camp. The caretaker came around to tell us that one of the bulls delivered last night was on the loose. I asked if he was particularly dangerous or just an average bull. He confirmed the latter so I was not too unduly concerned as I popped to and fro the camp amenities. Later it did occur to me that he was probably one of the beasts brought in for the rodeo taking place next month, and if so, probably of a feisty nature.

Lake Ross, or rather the Ross Dam, was the object of our attention, a short distance from the city, following the road up the river as you would expect, through outer suburbs which reached right to the dam. The lake is owned by NQ Water and provides up to 80% of Townsville’s water needs. The dam wall itself stretches 8.3 kilometres across the Ross River flood plan, covering 160,000 hectares and so has the added function of acting as flood control for the city. From the top of the wall the lake stretched for kilometres westward, up a rather uninspiring landscape. We walked along the bank, but only far enough to confirm that the path was monotonous, exposed to the sun, and apart from offering a few glimpses of turtles and cormorants, not of great interest. There is a motor launch that takes tourists out on the lake every Sunday, and is, according to our Perth friends, a very pleasant outing. When they told us of the trip, it never occurred to us that we would still be here on the weekend to take advantage of the cruise on offer.

We have extended our stay here yet again, for a further three days which will take us to a full week. When we first arrived, Joan explained that we could book in for a week and have the seventh night free. At the time, we were not entirely sure we wanted to stay beyond the first couple of nights given the distance from the city we were supposedly visiting. This morning when we paid for the next three nights, we did not expect that “up front” arrangement to kick in and so we were both pleased and surprised to receive that day’s discount. Let this stand as a promotional push for the Black River Stadium caravan park.

                                                         

We lingered at Lake Ross only to eat our lunch at the recreational area provided for the public by NQ Water, and then headed back in to town to find Firestone or Bridgestone Tyres. One of our front tyres had a leak. We called at one shopping centre in search of a phone book, to find the directory had been taken from the phone box. We then proceeded to another where we found both telephone kiosks were without directories, but found a post office. They had the Brisbane and Cairns directories, but not the one for Townsville. We laughed to imagine how any of our kids would have dealt with this dilemma: they would have pulled their iPod or iPads out of their pocket and googled an address for the said service provider. Alas we are still operating in the dinosaur age, seeking help from paper versions of the Yellow Pages. A little light bulb went off reminding us that help was closer at hand. TomTom was waiting in the cruiser to offer suggestions, and under the classification, “car repairs” we found a couple of tyre people close by. Kirwin Tyres & More were able to assist changing a leaky valve for no charge; and here is a plug for them! When in Townsville, be sure to check out Kirwin Tyres & More. (I sound like the Elliots in their Great Australian Doorstep)

From there we hunted out an outfit called Olbis who deal in on the road communication. We had been discussing the need for two way communication with Sandra and Peter here at the camp, with particular concern for that required once we get further outback when cellphones are rendered ineffective. We discussed options with the guy at Olbis, and more particularly the cost of having such a system installed. This was somewhat more than we imagined and will require some thought and debate. Those who know us will also know that we do not make decisions in haste. This together with the fact that we are not likely to stay too much longer here in Townsville, suggests we will not be proceeding with any such purchase any time soon.

From there we set off home, stopping briefly to buy the meat for dinner. Raindrops started to fall as we neared the camp and by the time we pulled in beside the caravan, the skies were wild with thunder and lightening and the rain had become heavier. No sooner were we in the door that the heavens opened up in earnest and we were glad we were safe inside watching the waters rise about us rather than being out in the deluge.

As per normal, my daily blog is composed in spaces of time rather than in one straight time slot, and so since I commenced this, the rain has not returned and dinner is over. I popped across to the rubbish bin a little earlier, in the dark and found a brown frog looking up at me from the base of the large metal bin. I looked again and he was gone. I returned to the van carefully watching for further wildlife lurking in the moat about our van.

And speaking of frogs, I do believe I omitted the story of Chris and the toilet frog. When we were at Finch Hatton, there were signs on the toilets requesting users to close the lid after use to keep any unwanted visitors out. Since then I have seen the same message in various forms, so obviously this is a frequent hazard of the region. At the Alligator Creek Roadhouse just south of Townsville, Chris opened the lid to use the toilet in the public amenities and there was a frog looking up at him. This “looking up at” us is obviously a manner the local frogs have been taught from birth. Chris quietly lowered the lid leaving the frog in peace and to surprise the next punter, and chose another booth.

I also omitted to mention the daily noise created by fighter jets taking off and flying over the city. They never fail to catch our intention no matter how absorbed we are with the other delights of this city.

The Australian Army maintains a very strong presence in the north of Australia. The Army's 3rd Brigade in Townsville is a high readiness brigade that has been deployed frequently at very short notice on combat operations outside mainland Australia. These include Somalia, Rwanda, Namibia, East Timor, Bougainville, Solomon Islands, Iraq and Afghanistan. In addition to the 3rd Brigade, a number of other major units are based in Townsville.

As with the Army, the Royal Australian Air Force also maintains a presence in Townsville. RAAF Base Townsville is located in the suburb of Garbutt and provides support to the Army units here. The base is also a high readiness Defence asset and is prepared to accept the full range of RAAF aircraft types as well as other international aircraft.

Townsville is also the staging point for the movement of personnel and materials to the remote parts of Northern Australia and many overseas locations.

This accounts for the fact that we have passed so much defense vehicular traffic on the Bruce Highway, and seen personnel in their absolutely hideous camouflage pyjamas shopping in various supermarkets up and down the coast.

14 July 2011 - Black River Stadium, Queensland

Still here beside the rodeo ring enjoying fine weather on this, Bastille Day. Why on earth would I remark on such a foreign holiday, you may ask! Because it is all part and parcel of the Tour de France that seems to consume so much of our lives at the moment. I do miss the replays of whole stages as we were able to watch last year on Sky Television; now I have to be satisfied with fifteen minutes highlights at 7.30 am and another half an hour at 6 pm, while Chris makes do with that and a couple of hours at night after 10 pm. Such are the handicaps of being retired and on the road!

The camp was shrouded in fog this morning when we woke, but not quite as cold as the previous day. Apparently it was foggy yesterday, but it had burned off before I looked out. Black clouds have lurked around, coming to nothing for now but a warning for the days to come.

A bulldozer started work at seven at the edge of camp, making sure we were all awake at a respectable hour. Later inquiries revealed that the row of mango trees has been torn out; they were host to fruit bats and right now fruit bats are some of the most vilified creatures in Australia. After several equine deaths and one human, all from the Hendra virus, and the more recent outbreak just north of us west of Cairns, everyone is on the alert. The Hendra virus is carried by the bats, which are immune to any ill effect. They defecate on the grass which the horses eat; passing the virus through their bodily fluids. As the sick horses are attended to by the vets, nurses and other handlers, they too are affected through the bodily fluids of the horses.

The fact that the camp owners are horsy folk and the next rodeo is to be held here on 20 August are enough to ring alarm bells as regards this scare. I fear that fruit bats country wide will be bait for hunters and will soon join the endangered species list. (I actually love the little critters.)

We were late setting off out this morning, spending a long time chatting with our neighbours, Sandra and Peter, from Brisbane. This is not their first stay here, in fact they have been here at least twice before and are again appreciating the peace and quiet and in theory, warmer weather than they would at home. When I mentioned to them that the forecast suggested a couple of days of showery weather, they scoffed and said that it just did not rain here.

Obviously it does because there are flood indicators on many of the roads we travel, and Townsville certainly is vulnerable to cyclones. Yasi hit the coast further north in early February this year, but the town did not go unscathed. Trees in the parks still bear the scars of fallen branches and there are patches of foreshore undergoing redevelopment where great mountains of sand were washed ashore. There is still evidence of roofs having been damaged and some yet to be repaired. It is all credit to the council that the clean up has been undertaken with such efficiency and expertise. Perhaps that comes of it being a fairly frequent occurrence; suffering cyclones, that is.

Little to see in the Town Common National Park

We have a wish list of Townsville attractions and are ticking them off as we go. The first for today was the Town Common National Park which is hailed as a birdwatcher’s paradise. The land lies on the north western side of Cleveland Bay, sheltering Townsville; Magnetic Island shelters the northern aspect and Cape Cleveland the eastern. Open woodland, grassland, swamps and vine thickets provide a habitat for as many as 280 bird species. The map in the promotional booklet shows a variety of walks, both short and long. I had earmarked the 1.9 kilometre Forest Walk as being suitable for a pre-lunch workout, however as we bumped and bounced over the pitted potholed gravel road, spied the beginning of the chosen walk overgrown within a metre of leaving the road and saw the ‘Achtung! – Recent crocodile sightings!’ sign, we decided that this was not the nice place we were expecting and turned around and left without further scrutiny.

Instead we headed back toward town and parked on the foreshore at Rowes Bay and ate our picnic lunch in the company of an ibis, a butcher bird and a flock of seagulls.

Consulting the literature we had on hand, we decided that we would proceed to the Gallery of Fine Arts. We parked along the Strand and found the gallery on foot; it was in fact the Townsville Aboriginal & Torres Strait Islander Cultural Centre which includes an art gallery along with a performance stage. One gallery was hosting an exhibition of aboriginal people taking part in drug and alcohol rehabilitation. One could liken this to a local art society exhibition; some quite good and some not so. A second gallery had some excellent works by aboriginal artists who have work also being shown in many other parts of the world.

The Centre also has a section dedicated to the history and culture of aborigines and Torres Strait Islanders. Much of the information had been gleaned from other centres visited along the way, but was portrayed here with a tone that conveyed the bitterness and hurt of so much that has gone on before.

We spent a little time speaking with the curator, or at least the one for the day, a very dark women who has aboriginal, Chinese, Torres Strait Island and English heritage. It seems that we all (or at least she and I) are a mongrel mix of cultures, with a medley of historical ups and downs. My mongrel blood is just a little less obvious, and the injustices to my ancestors less recent than those to hers.

While this Gallery of Fine Arts had not been as we expected, we certainly enjoyed the

experience.

Time still allowed us to squeeze in another art gallery, this time the Perc Tucker Regional Gallery. Alas, as we have encountered too often before, most of the gallery was closed with workers preparing for a new exhibition. There was a small room on the bottom floor full of ceramic treasures, some of which were just delightfully outrageous. Upstairs a touring exhibition titled “In the Japanese Manner 1900 - 1940”, a collection of lino and wood cuts, featured work by Margaret Preston who brought the concept back from Paris in 1912, and many others who followed her. So much of it took me back to the wonderful books we had as children that had been my mother’s, or rather her older sister’s, which were full of wonderful “flat” pictures of pixies and elves. The exhibition did not so much feature these elfin creatures but reminded me of the illustrations that littered these publications. Chris was less enamoured with the work, but then we do so often have differing opinions of art works. Thank goodness we are not entirely alike; we are our own people!

Since we were so close to the central post office, we popped along to check whether the elusive post had arrived. Too much make believe; the exercise was of course futile.

After such a day, full of disappointments and surprises, further discoveries and pleasures, we returned home. I set up the computer outside in the remains of the sun and we were in time to kiss Bella goodnight, and to catch up with her parents and later her uncle, all on Skype. 

13 July 2011 - Black River Stadium, Queensland

Now settled back in the caravan after another awesome day out and about town. Australian Master Chef is playing in the background, and I will not comment further because this will probably play in a rather delayed fashion across the ditch and I would so not want to spill the beans and take the gloss off the excitement.

Jack left this morning heading toward Cairns, anticipating the arrival of his partner from Melbourne; she is flying up to join him. He had entertained us with his yarns and some had been left incomplete. We told him we looked forward to catching up with him further up the road to hear the end of the tales, and he is hoping we can tell him equally entertaining stories about ourselves; he may find us rather disappointing!

We travelled into town by an entirely different route this morning, one I realised that Tomtom had been suggesting to us when we first approached Townsville and which I had dissed in favour of the regular route via the Bruce Highway. As per usual, he was right and we would have saved ourselves some fuel had we paid attention. It is a longer way into the centre of the city, but this time we were heading to the Palmetum, a 17 hectare botanic garden closer to the previously separate city of Thuringowa, which was merged with the original Townsville only in 2008. The palms in this garden are just lovely, so many varieties of palms from all over the world amid other tropical forest plants. We found ourselves through to the other side on the garden and on the Ross Riverwalk, so decided to set off, walking part of this wide pathway that runs along each side of the river for many many kilometres. We walked as far as the Aplin Weir and back, a distance of probably a little under six kilometres.

Fresh water turtles a-swimming

Along the way we came upon a bridge spanning a tributary creek where there were dozens of fresh water turtles waiting to be fed. The longer we lingered above them, the more that arrived in anticipation of treasure. Fortunately I was still carrying around the rest of the turtle food we had purchased at the Gladstone Botanical Gardens, so their wait was short. But would you believe it! This special snack was not to their liking, although a school of minnows feasted on a later scattering. What fussy turtles! I shall now reserve the residue for ducks or gulls who I am sure will be more appreciative! Returning to the palmatum and fetching the eski, picnicking on a park bench was a welcome treat after such a walk.

The Aplin Weir

Over lunch we decided we needed to attack our mail problems from the other direction, the most important of those being the matter of our vehicle registration, and so we needed to find a Queensland Transport Authority office, yet again. We drove to a shopping centre and hunted out a telephone booth; the telephone directory was still there and intact. Armed with a couple of addresses, we checked our street map and made our way to the nearest one. A duplicate sticker has now been ordered and hopefully will be posted direct from the central office to us care of the Cairn’s Post Office. Given the saga so far, this is not likely to be the last you will hear about this otherwise petty matter.

We then hunted out a caravan sales yard to find someone who could fix our faulty shower one-way waste valve. We had finally had confirmation from Lotus in Melbourne that we could find someone here to replace it and have them bill Lotus direct under the warranty. Fortunately the outfit we called into, while not Lotus dealers as such (Brad at Caravan World in Woombye is the only Queensland agent) have had dealings with Lotus, have an ongoing relationship with them and were pleased to help us. Young Josh, the grandson of the owner and obviously the heir apparent to the business, is hoping that a part can be express delivered tomorrow and installed on Friday. Failing that, we will have a good excuse to stay on until next week and have it all resolved when the business week recommences.

The weather has held out for another day and looks like it will remain so for another day before it packs up on Friday for a couple of days. This evening I have fired off a couple of other emails which should deal with the rest of the missing mail items and so we are feeling on top of the situation as much as one reasonably could be. I subjected Chris to a pasta dish tonight, which he was not looking forward to, but even he had to admit it was delicious. So all in all, yet another fantastic day.

12 July 2011 - Black River Stadium, Queensland

I never cease to be amazed with technology today; that we should be able to chat with my parents or our kids via internet at no cost but our internet usage charges, send copies of documents, read them and comment back with an exchange of the same, all within seconds. And yet I also know that when I reread this blurb in the years to come, I will chuckle at my naivety or rather my appreciation of what will then seem so primitive. For now, I am ever appreciative.

We have had a wonderful day, spent mainly walking in the bright sunshine about this wonderful city. The morning began colder than we have had lately, 11 degrees. One of our fellow campers joyfully told me that last night was the coldest all parts of Australia had experienced all year. Obviously that fact had been imparted on some radio report, just to cheer everyone up. The sun soon warmed up and we sat out under the awning drinking coffee in the sunshine even before breakfast.

After bidding farewell to the Perth brigade, who were still packing their camp “city” (they do carry an amazing collection of things, all of which we are envious but most of which we would rather sacrifice for space and less weight), we headed off into Townsville.

Our first port of call was a post office in an outlying suburb which a very helpful woman in the Information Centre yesterday had suggested. She herself is currently battling with the postal service on behalf of friend’s redirection of mail, and was most sympathetic to our dilemma. The call to this satellite office was unfruitful, but did take us to another part of the city which we may not have otherwise visited.

From there we drove to the foreshore. The Strand is a manmade parkway comprising a sea water rock pool, strained of stingers and other undesirable marine life, a promenade of about two kilometres, children’s playgrounds, both regular and a water park very like that we saw at Mackay, barbeques, toilets, changing rooms, an icecream “factory” where one can choose the combinations and makeup of one’s favourite dairy indulgence. A camera crew was putting together some kind of film at the children’s water park, the children were being directed to “move around” then to wait, and then do it all over. We were not prepared to wait around too long, and I am sure the kids were cold and over it all by the time the final take was done.

Towsville marina area

I was amused (and interested) to see a notice along the walkway that advised that Townsville was the Capital of Skin Cancer in the world. The half dozen semi-nude bods on the sand below the ever vigilant life guard were more intent on tanning than heeding such advice.

Dead shopping trollies

We walked the length of The Strand, there and back, then sat on a bench eating our lunch, clad in our pullovers and hats. While it was lovely and warm in the sunshine when out of the wind, we found it unpleasant to be less than well wrapped up.

Fathers of Townsville

After lunch we walked into the CBD, along East Flinders Street and Flinders Street, part of which we had walked yesterday. We called at the central post office again with no success, and then continued on our way across the Ross River and along Palmers Street on the south side of the river which is lined with hotels and restaurants, all the time impressed with the buildings, ambience, with everything our eyes fell upon.

Dying dinghy

Back in the cruiser, we hunted out the Castletown Shopping Centre, purchased bread and a couple of other bits and pieces, then returned to camp. There we took advantage of the continuing beautiful day and walked about the camp and rodeo facilities. We were intercepted by a lovely fellow camper whom we initially took to be the proprietor, the husband of Joan (who is not the “caretaker” after all), but instead he was a well seasoned traveller and resident of the general area who proved to be a mine of information and the best PR that this camp or in fact Townsville could have. We have booked a further two nights, although checking the long term weather forecast for the area on Google tonight, we may think twice about some of our planned trips, especially those that may include boats.

11 July 2011 - Black River Stadium, Queensland

We were up and away from our over night camp bright and early, greeted by yet another clear sunny day, heading northwards (or rather westwards up the coast) towards our next camp spot. We had telephoned a couple of caravan parks to quiz their tariffs, having discovered that the 2011 Caravan Park book and the 2011 RACQ were already out of date and often quoted prices as much as $5 short of the up to date sting. Both those phoned, confirmed that their tariffs are close to $40, and so were crossed off our possible choices. On the other hand we had discovered that the Black Water Stadium, advertised in the Camps 5 bible (we appreciate that the fifth edition was published 2009 – the sixth edition has been out on the shelves just this year) and on further investigation discovered the cost was a fair $25, and so we booked a site for a couple of nights. We were however surprised how far beyond Townsville the camp was situated and I did wonder if perhaps we were cutting off our noses to spite our faces, but Chris says that one should not encourage these greedy camp owners.

The camp is at the rodeo ground thirty kilometres from the centre of Townsville, spacious with excellent facilities, presented as brand new in elevated re-locatable buildings. The caretaker is a sweet prim senior lady who rides around the camp on a golf cart, with her Chihuahua. I could not imagine her wielding a mop and toilet brush, therefore was not surprised to learn that an elderly long term male resident does the cleaning in lieu of discounted “rent”.

We were set up, and the washing was on the line drying, by 11.15 am, and we had our first morning coffee guest seated under our awning.

After lunch Chris and I headed back in to Townsville, and drove up Castle Rock from where we took each short path to the most wonderful vantage points. Townsville is a fast growing city of 172,000 people, and most impressive from the heights of Castle Rock, a red rock monolith in the heart of the city. Magnetic Island sits out from the coast; a high rugged island, home to 2,000 reliant on tourist trade. Well back behind the city, mountain ranges provide a back drop.

Views of the city from Castle Rock

We descended the hill and found a park in the main street and walked to the central post office to pick up our mail. Nothing!! How can that be! Mail posted nearly ten days ago has yet to arrive. Chris is firmly of the opinion that it has been binned by dissatisfied postal sorting staff. I have a more optimistic view, forever the Pollyanna.

We then walked around to the Information Centre and picked up a handful of pamphlets, a wad of suggestions on how to fill a day or six in Townsville. Perhaps we will have to extend our stay.

This morning before lunch when Chris was hunting out the dump point, he happened upon familiar faces; Charlie and Sue of the Perth Brigade. Geoff and Denise had been going out on an errand as we had arrived; we had actually passed them at the gate but not recognised them. We were delighted to be invited to share their fire late this afternoon and so, bearing our cups of coffee and chairs, we wandered down to their camp, to catch up and share our travel experiences since last meeting up at Calliope. At seven, we tore ourselves away, wished them all safe journeying as they set off tomorrow morning until we meet on the road again. Our paths are still the same, our choices of time and place of pausing en route do differ.

10 July 2011 - Alligator Creek Roadhouse, Queensland

We woke to a glorious day, clear as can be, with the top of Mount Elliot in view and the Sugar Mill still whirring away as it had all night. We had been warned by a fellow camper that there were times it could be very noisy, as if it were doing a big cane chop through a mixer. Using the information we gleaned from the mini-mill at Sarina, I think this is unlikely, however there were occasions when the steady noise changed to something else. None of that kept me awake and perhaps that was because we had ended up having a night out on the town.

 After dinner and dishes last night we wandered over to the public bar at the International Hotel, and ordered a drink at the bar as one must, joining half a dozen locals who looked like they had been there a while. In fact we recognised one from earlier in the afternoon when we had called to check whether they had a television screen, and I don’t think he had whipped home for dinner and a shower in the interim as we had.

We noted that one wall was dedicated to League memorabilia and there was a build up on the channel showing for a league game between the Storm and the Bulldogs being played in Adelaide, so we were pretty pessimistic about our chances of watching The Big Game. We joked about the fact it was lucky we hadn’t eaten at the Pub as well; at least our wasted expenditure amounted only to the price of two drinks.(How do people afford to drink at pubs with the price of drinks as they are!!?)

Giru's International Hotel

Just when we were thinking about returning to the caravan, the publican changed the channel and there were the two finalists in the Super 15 on the field ready for kick off. Saved! And so we watched and enjoyed the game, despite the fact that Queensland beat the Cantabrians, the former having perked up after their first try and playing a superior game thereafter. It was amusing to watch the locals also perk up when their fellows started playing some decent rugby, and the previously distracting chatter changed to intense scrutiny, howls, woops and cheers thereafter. Unlike our friends and relatives back in New Zealand who watched the same game, we were back home and I was tucked up in bed with my book before ten, and Chris was able to watch the first couple of hours of the Tour de France, not having had to sacrifice any of that for the rugby. All in all, a successful night; at least for us, if not the Crusaders.

Chris was keen to give the caravan and the cruiser a good wash, and so this morning we moved across the green to a good water supply and he brushed and scraped until we were all shiny and clean again. We did of course replenish our water tanks at the same time.

We had established positive contact with Danielle, Liz’s daughter, yesterday by both telephone and email, confirming appropriate dates to catch up with her and the fact that Townsville is still in the grips of V8 Racing. This all served to convince us that we did not want to arrive in Townsville until at least Monday, but also confused the issue of where to stay tonight. We left Giru still undecided, but having perused the pamphlets about the Bowling Green Bay National Park, and seeing that the mouth of the Haughton River offered a wealth of bird watching, we decided to head for Cungulla.

We left the Bruce highway, initially heading north toward Cape Cleveland across a long causeway over sandy tidal waters, then east toward the Bowling Green Bay. Cungulla, like Giru, is too small to worthy a mention in our Explore Australia travel book, but does not look even as big as last night’s resting place. I suspect that at least half the houses there on the beach are weekend retreats for Townsville dwellers who enjoy the access to apparently excellent fishing. Both Giru and Cungulla have access to the Haughton River, the latter across a very rough sandy track through the bush, the mangroves and finally on to a piece of land that is effectively an island at high tide. The lowest point of this track has been built up with copious loads of rubble and does look as if it would be fairly solid even under an extra high tide. Needless to say we did not tow the caravan out to the boat ramp, but parked up beside a green area from where we could look out far across the tidal flat to the sea. We walked the distance of perhaps two kilometres along the beach and then on to this track, passed by a couple of 4WD vehicles towing tinnies, enjoying the bird life and wondering what the occasional crashing noises in the swampy perimeters were. Reaching the boat ramp, we could see the Haughton River as it meandered both up and down river, through steep tidal muddy banks. We chatted with a couple of fishermen sitting in their tinny waiting for the third to arrive back with the right petrol tank. They told us about the three metre tide, were a little surprised that we had walked out and warned us of the large crocodiles that lurked in the environs. Needless to say we were a little more vigilant retracing our steps to the caravan!

Tinnies on the Haughton River

After lunch we continued to devour The Weekend Australian, before deciding it was time to up stakes and head for the night’s camp. Once back out of the Bruce Highway, it was a mere fifteen or so kilometres to reach this excellent facility, essentially a Caltex truck stop with heaps of asphalt area for both travellers and trucks to overnight. The amenities block boasts a lounge area, a laundry, and of course the usual toilets. The service station is attached to a restaurant / takeaways, and the service station itself sells an array of grocery items for those not as organised as ourselves. To show our respectful appreciation for this wonderful free facility, we purchased two Magnum ice creams which just about cleaned out Chris’s wallet. I interrupted his moans, reminding him that the same novelty ice-cream in New Zealand is as outrageously priced. We will most likely fill up with fuel here tomorrow morning; the price per litre is an acceptable $1.45. How the threshold for diesel price acceptability has shifted as time has passed!

Chris has just come in from chatting with the chap in the motorhome behind us, and then the trucky who arrived to hitch up to his trailer. Apparently this site will be busy tonight as many more trucks pull in and out. We have been warned!

9 July 2011 - Giru Town Centre Camping Area, Queensland

One has to wonder why such a tiny settlement several kilometres off the main highway, 54 kilometres SE of Townsville and 42 kilometres W of Ayr, with a population of just 371 in the last census taken in 2006, but with apparently the second largest sugar mill in Queensland, boasts this excellent open space where travellers such as ourselves can plant our wheels, and make use of the antiquated but clean facilities. Our CMCA bible says we can stay here 48 hours, yet subsequent consultation with fellow campers suggests there is no time limit at all. One couple across from us plan to stay until Christmas! No matter what the raison d‘etre, we are pleased to have found the spot, a resting space before we travel on into Townsville which we understand to be absolutely throbbing this weekend with the sound of V8 Motor Racing. Better to be here between the rail and the mill!

We passed a reasonable night pressed up against the railway railings at Home Hill last night, this time not exposed to the vindictive horn tooting of the big trucks rumbling through on the Bruce Highway. At Guthalungra a couple of nights ago, there were several occasions when the loud truck horns blasted out seemingly without reason; I am sure it was the truck drivers just getting their back on the pain-in-the-bottom grey nomads whose night resting place could be seen from the road. At Home Hill we were tucked away out of sight of the main highway and of course such behaviour would not have been tolerated by the residents of the town.

The bridge over the Burdekin River

After breakfast, it took only moments to be ready and on the road again. That is one big positives for free camping and staying hitched. Re-hitching with all the palaver of  the Hayman Reece levelling hitches is enough for one to choose a motorhome over a caravan! We are however pretty efficient now, and so we should be after five and a bit months on the road.

Queensland's second largest sugar mill at Giru

The road from Home Hill to Ayr crosses the Burdekin on the bridge referred to yesterday, an unattractive structure over a very wide and beautiful ribboned river. Alas there was no opportunity to stop and take a photograph. The countryside either side of the bridge was immediately rural, with intensive cropped cane fields.

On arriving in Ayr, obviously larger and busier than its twin, Home Hill, we parked and walked the main street, noting that this town did indeed offer all the services one could possibly expect in a rural district. The council has made an effort to jazz up the place but it still does not have a wow factor. Perhaps that could be seen as unimportant in a rural setting, however much of the income nowadays could be garnered from the passing tourists. We saw no reason to stay more than the couple of hours, and came on north, or rather west, to Giru. Discovering this curious little place, we decided to stay for more than lunch.

We had indulged in bakery delights at Ayr, so after consuming those at Giru, thought we had better go for a walk to discover the metropolis. (I fear the kilos we have lost by changing our drinking habits, may well be regained in too many treats and not enough exercise.)

The sights and places included an old pop-top caravan that has been altered to include galvanised iron in place of the canvas pop-top, a store-cum-post office currently closed due to the proprietor having been killed in a hideous car-truck accident just last week, the Houghton River where the rail bridge crosses, the pub which is to host a karaoke birthday party tonight (but will it broadcast The Game on its television? – or more importantly, do they have Fox TV?).

Having seen all that, we returned to spend another quiet afternoon “at home”. We will dine here, but will probably wander over to the Pub later in the hope that we can watch the big game between the Crusaders and Queensland Reds at 7.30 p.m. And if it is on, shall I bite my tongue when the Kiwi thrash the Ozzies? Or shall I risk life and limb revealing my patriotic roots?

The forecast was for sunshine and temperatures of 26 degrees. There are clouds all about, particularly around the top of Mount Elliot, and a breeze that might yet drive me inside. However I cannot complain; it is winter after all.