30 April 2011 - Koramba Cotton, NSW

The end of the month already and another closer to winter, although you would not think it today. Again there is a breeze that is disturbing my papers on the outside table, but sending the cool air through the caravan that has been closed up a good part of the day. The thermometer inside showed 26 degrees.

Ready for a day's work

A follower of this blog has suggested with great concern that we might be needing food parcels or some road kill delivered, given the scant provisions available in the near vicinity. I had been pondering the destiny of the road kill this morning, but had fancied it was rescued for dog tucker rather than laborers’ fare. But there you are. In this land, anything goes!

I left this morning just minutes after Chris had walked out the door with his Labour Solution’s hat, eski and fluro vest, and passed him and his work mates still waiting by the gate as I drove past, hopefully not showering them with too much dust. No doubt I will hear about that tonight.

The road from Boomi to Goondiwindi is not as bad as I recalled from the other evening’s trip; it helps to be unhindered by a two and a half ton trailer. The roos bounding across the road were as plentiful if not more so than on Wednesday, so it seems to be a fallacy that they are on the move only at dawn and dusk. It makes one ever vigilant, especially when one is already dodging potholes, and accommodating any traffic that may dare to approach or pass. Flocks of birds were also in attendance; I was not short of company. The last thirty or so kilometers of the seal is right across the road in the normal fashion and cannot be faulted except for those patches that have been undermined by floods. I was too hasty with my criticism.

I arrived in town before nine thirty, filled the vehicle with diesel, tried a dress on in Millers (as one cannot go to town without a little temptation) but did not buy it, went to the supermarket and bought dozens of canned and dry goods, vegetables and fruit. At times I seemed to be taking the last of what was on the shelf, and I fear that some poor people will go without because a greedy customer came and took the last can of baked beans, the last three yoghurt powders, the last Bok Choy cabbage, the last bag of carrots, et cetera. Guilty as charged!

I then sought advice on where to have the gas bottle filled and drove to the edge of town to the hardware and timber depot where that matter was efficiently dealt with, albeit at a rather hefty price.

Then back in to town to the book exchange which had not been open earlier, a chat with the woman at the counter, a visit to Crazy Clarks for some haberdashery (particularly to fasten Chris’ work hat – the regulation hats come in one size which is always bound to be either too big or too small), and then on the road.

I chose to return by the northern route, west, north of the Queensland border and the McIntyre River, then turn at Talwood and come directly south to our camp in New South Wales. Tomtom, who had been keeping me company as well as the wildlife, told me that the route was only six kilometres and four minutes longer. I also had registered that most of the route (except for the last twenty kilometres) was along the Barwon Highway, heading toward St George. Such significance should surely render the road superior to the other one I had travelled in the morning.

And sure enough, it mainly was. The first half of the trip was on wide tar seal, so wide that it was divided with a centre line and adorned with lines on both side edges as well. While it was uneven as most Australian roads tend to be, other than the very major highways that city slickers travel, it allowed me a steady 100 kilometres an hour. Arriving at Tobeah, a (real) store, a pub, a clutch of grain silos and a few houses, I saw a sign that confirmed that the road to Bungunya was "Open". Thank goodness for that! Not sure where that was, I imagined it well beyond my turn off, so went on, slower and carefully negotiating a narrower road which had obviously suffered flood damage. Then I was at Bungunya, or at least that settlement was on a short road to the south. I turned in to it to have a look see. More silos, a few houses, a very dead once-been store, a shiny Australia Post letter box, and a very pleasant rest area. I stopped and ate most of my lunch, then set off once more, cognoscente that I had fresh food on board with rather inadequate cold storage.

This time the sign was one of those portable standing electric ones, advising that the road to Talwood was open but great care should be taken. At this stage I was thinking; OMG, if this is the highway, will the link road / track through to Koramba be open? Will I have to turn back and travel the eighty or so kilometres as well as the Boomi road of a further one hundred!

Again, as its neighbour, Talwood was a little off the main road. I drove into the leafy street of this very quiet place, noted a store, a modern church, a collection of road works vehicles parked up with no one about, and very poor signage as to the road I should take. Logic told me that I should pass straight through the town, at right angles to Barwon Highway, however this upset Tomtom greatly. I turned him off to shut him up and stopped at the store, entering the cool dark and dingy interior. The proprietor came from the back and greeted me warmly, with the ever friendly “Darl”. I asked her directions and she indicated that I had missed the road back up the street (Tomtom had been right insisting I turn around). I glanced around the shop and told her that I would be back some day soon, and told her why. Here I believe I could buy bread, a newspaper and other fresh stores should we require them before my next excursion to the big smoke in say, about ten days.

The first ten kilometres south was on a one way sealed road, straight edged with wide gravel or dirt skirts for pulling over if one was unlucky enough to be confronted by the large rattly trucks I hear pass the camp all hours of the day. Then I came to road works, massive road works; a set of traffic lights and all manner of machinery presumably remaking the road that had suffered major flood damage. Then came the bridge over the McIntrye River, and having left Queensland once again, the terrible bumpy gravel road of just one kilometre before I pulled in to our gateway.

It was about one when I unloaded the gas bottle and the bags and boxes of groceries, and took me at least another hour to stow everything in some orderly fashion. We should now be right for a while and poor Chris can be given packed lunches that will seem familiar fare.

The mechanics dog came over to see me when I had finished; he came yesterday when I was sitting here typing and thrust his head onto my knee which was not terribly helpful since I use the keyboard on my lap. He is very affectionate but like all farm dogs, knows that houses (and caravans) are out of bounds.

And of Chris? He completed his second long day last night, arriving home at twenty past eight. He is bearing up, in fact quite into the swing of it. However after such a late dinner, there wasn’t much time before collapsing into bed. We have been spoiled for too long with this retirement business; I guess this is just a reality check.