16 June 2011 - Calliope River Rest Area, Queensland

This morning dawned clear, blue and fresh while we slept later than we have for a while. When we finally were ready to leave, we were delayed firstly in engaging in conversation with a fellow camper whom we had encountered at the hideous Country Stopover Caravan Park out of Maryborough. He is an ex-policeman in his early fifties, pensioned off with ill health. He has been on the road for the past ten years and while travelling in a small Toyota van, is very well set up, with kayak, bicycle and generator. I do hope that when my health fails I will be able to still enjoy all these gadgets!

The second cause of delay was a chatty encounter with a highway worker with whom we had passed the time of the day just after arrival yesterday. He was dead envious of the fact that we were travelling without time constraints, and longed for the time he was at our stage in life. I had actually thought he looked about my age; obviously he thought we were both in the grey nomad bracket.

We finally tore ourselves away and travelled the short distance in to Gladstone, east of the main Bruce Highway. As we neared our destination, we travelled over low tidal mangrove flats. The sun glistened on the residual water and it was the very best of conditions to enter a seaside settlement. We followed the Information Centre signs around the city and down across a canter lever bridge to the marina.

The woman in the Centre was just wonderful. This is a city that promotes itself well and has excellent staff to follow through with the message. She handed us an excellent map of the city and marked the location of the lookout points, the art galleries, the museums and the route to each. She also suggested that we could unhitch and leave the caravan at the parking spot opposite the Centre while we spent the day tikki touring about.

Views of Gladstone

This we duly did, or at least Chris did, while I threw together a picnic lunch. We then drove to Mount Auckland, a small hill behind the port area, on the sea side of the CBD. From there we could see the wonderful waterways, bays, islands, the marina and several of the large industries which dominate the city and shoreline. From there we drove up to Round Hill to gain a more expansive view, this time more of the residential area and more extensively of the region. We took our camp chairs from the cruiser and sat on the edge of the hill. Unlike Mount Auckland with its charming park, this had nothing but a mown space beside the railings, but still offered the very best of outlooks.

After lingering over lunch and the view, we drove back down into the town and parked just off the main street. From there we walked up and down as is our habit, and called in first to the Regional Art Gallery where we enjoyed an exhibition of fashion shots taken in Australia during the 1960s and 70s, titled "Strike a Pose" compiled and edited by Lee Lin Chin, a stunning Singapore born woman of about fifty, who fronts the SBS One news here in Australia, our most preferred channel for such updates. This exhibition made me feel quite nostalgic for many of the weird and wonderful outfits I had owned and worn during those years.

The second exhibition was compiled mainly by aboriginal artists inspired by plants and wildlife in the northern territory. The only feature that marked it as aboriginal rather than anything else, were the comments or stories about how these  natural subjects might have featured in a more primitive existence. For instance, there were comments regarding the edibility of water lilies which seem to abound in the wild here in this country; their very young leaves, the flowers and the seeds, the latter either raw or cooked.

The third exhibition was of photos take by citizens of this city depicting life here, part of an exchange exhibition with Gladstone’s Japanese sister-city. It was interesting but generally as amateurish as my own photography.

Tucked away behind a shopping block, we found another gallery recommended to us, featuring the work of local artists. The gallery is sponsored by Rio Tinto, shareholders in the aluminium smelter, and of course is a PR exercise. There was some good work there as well as some unimpressive. I have to say however that when one no longer has a house in which to hang artworks, one has an entirely different take on the art featured in these places.

By this time we had decided that we wanted to spend several days in or near Gladstone. We were interested in the Industry Tours and had discovered at the Information Centre earlier in the day that each of the industries who offer these tours, do so only one day each week, and we needed to remain in the area through to early next week. Again, as so often seems to happen, we had arrived at the wrong time of the week, and we would be stymied by the weekend.

Our camp beside the Calliope River

We set the Tomtom for a campsite advertised in both the CMCA bible and the Camps Australia Wide, on the Calliope River, some twenty or so kilometres east of Gladstone. We were led north on the road toward Rockhampton, across more mangrove flats, past factories belching clouds of steam and smoke, and on roads that led to Mount Larkham, a place far north of Calliope. Several times we were directed into factory entrances, and then having done so, Tomtom cried out “Turn around as soon as possible!”.

“Well why did you tell us to go this way?” we responded.

We pressed on and were finally taken in a round about way out on to the Bruce Highway more or less opposite the turn to the camp. While frustrating to say the least, it had been a very pleasant drive, but far longer than we expected. We will return to Gladstone tomorrow morning by an alternative route and will then judge whether Tomtom’s route was better than the one we would have otherwise taken.

This camp here on the north side of the Calliope River is just a-maz-ing! There are wide grassy areas either side of the river. These two areas, north and south, were once joined by an old concrete bridge spanning a low part of the river, but the bridge has now been closed, considered to be unsafe. We are on the higher northern banks, the area on the southern banks is lower and could be flood prone in different conditions.

At about four o’clock, there were about twenty five rigs or motorhomes on each side of the river. Subsequent to that time, many more ventured in. I was reminded of the scores of motorhomes that one sees lining part of the seabird coast, the south western shores of New Zealand’s Firth of Thames; perhaps as many as a hundred around Easter.

We are just flabbergasted by the number of campers and absolutely wowed by the beauty of the place. We sat outside before sunset and listened to the birds readying themselves for bed, before settling in for the evening ourselves.