31 August 2012 - Anakie Gemfield Caravan Park, Central Highlands, Queensland

The day dawned fine yet again, making this for us a full month of no rain unless a few drops evaporating within minutes should be counted. We were soon packed up and farewelled our dear friends who were taking somewhat longer than us to break camp. They carry so much more than us; boats, iron pigs, satellite dishes, and so on, all items which enhance their lives but we have chosen to do without.

We were on the road heading back the sixty or so kilometres to Capella where we parked near the Gregory Highway intersection and set off along the street to see what it had to offer. Capella does boast a news agency, which is part of the General Store which in turn is part of a fascinating hardware store. The national daily newspapers had yet to arrive, should be in between 9.30 and 10 am, depending on the road works, but the carrier was running late. We asked that they put one aside when they arrived, walked the length of the town in the burning hot sun, returned to the caravan for coffee and a Sudoku challenge. As we were about to set off once more to chase the newspaper, Neil and Pauline pulled up beside us to report that the dump station in Capella was blocked up and too disgusting to use. We advised there was an excellent one at Emerald, where they were initially heading, and after more hugs and kisses, farewelled them once more. The courier van drove past as we waved them off and sure enough, the paper had arrived and it was only 11 am. Not too much of a holdup and I suspect these rural townships suffer this much of the time.

We set off south west on an alternative route through to the Capricorn Highway on a narrow sealed road, one forbidden to road trains hence the traffic was scarce. We passed through cattle country, over rolling open eucalypt landscape, fording one small creek and then after nearly eighty kilometres we arrived at Rubyvale, one of the Sapphire Gemfield settlements. We drove on through this higgledy piggledy collection of old and temporary housing, great piles of rusting machinery, and soon arrived at Sapphire, a little more inspiring than Rubyvale. Here we stopped at a rest area and had lunch before pressing on soon arriving at Anakie on the intersection with the Capricorn Highway.

Bird feeding time at the Caravan Park

These three settlements, together with the Willows Gemfields, make up the Sapphire Gemfields of this Central Highlands. As I write this, we are at a loss as to how we should investigate the area further and come away with positive memories; perhaps a chat to the camp owner in the morning will help because one with a couple camped along from us during the afternoon did not help.

This caravan park is advertised in Camps 6 and as such fits with our preferred price range. It is small, quiet and only $25 a night which is quite reasonable in this popular area. I did a couple of loads of washing and then at about 4 pm the camp owner came and told us that bird feeding was about to take place. I had been aware of gathering flocks of birds; lorikeets, cockatoos, crested pigeons, apostle birds, magpies, to name a few and then when the owner arrived with his two loaves of bread and asked Chris to carry a tray of water out into the yard, the birds came down from the roofs and trees in their masses and sat all over us while they fed. It was absolutely wonderful although Chris was not too excited about the fact his shirt required changing.

The evening was finished off nicely making contact with Olly and Kit, albeit briefly. We have now only to catch up with Larissa and my parents over the weekend to satisfy ourselves that all is well in the world, or at least in the narrow world of our immediate family.

30 August 2012 - Bundoora Dam, Peaks Region, Queensland

Our mode of travel from one place to another, travelling with a certain sense of urgency although we might well deny that description, sometimes precludes us from building relationships with people who might become lifelong friends, or with those re-encountered. I am pleased to say that we have stayed long enough this time at Bundoora Dam to enjoy one of the special joys of being alive; sharing time with like minded folk with whom we have history and hopefully much more to come. Such is my philosophical introduction of saying we have spent another awesome day with our friends with Neil and Pauline.

The day has been spent in a variety of pursuits; coffee and biscuits for a long winded morning tea, enthusiastic appreciation of the red claw fresh water crayfish caught in the overnight traps, a long walk along the lakeshore to throw the nets in for another round, to enjoy the fauna and flora of the region, to smell a decomposing body amongst the ruins of a bygone camp, perhaps that of the dam construction, collection of firewood, feeling the sun burning on our newly bared legs, helping one another through the many barb wired fence back to the dam reserve and the extensive conversation that took place all through that. 

As we sat over lunch shared under our awning, new campers came in daring to share our joint space, some moved on with warnings of future camp fire smoke and some oblivious to our wish to enjoy the wilderness and the space this huge area offers. Finally in the late afternoon, Neil lit both the iron “pig” camp fire and another which offered nothing but ambience, they cooked damper, cooked the red claw for us to taste and then we brought our humble offerings of pork chops, mashed spuds and a colourful salad. After too much wine and beer, coffee and biscuits we returned to our caravan under the full moon and booted up the computer to record yet an excellent day in this excellent country!

29 August 2012 - Bundoora Dam, Peaks Region, Queensland

Why on earth was I concerned about being disturbed by road or rail trains?  I should have been more concerned about fellow travellers under the influence of alcohol. We were entertained, if that be the description, by a collection of van living youths full of liquor and foul mouthed ramblings that continued until late into the night. So much so that I would have to warn people from sharing such free camping sites made available by fair minded councils with anyone else but like minded middle aged people.

The police arrived soon after we finally rose this morning to make a courtesy call to the van occupants who may or may not have been the centre of the disruptive proceedings of the night. Fortunately for us, we had no intention of subjecting ourselves to more of the same and were soon on our way to the Information Centre for water and dumping and then to Coles for replenishing our severely depleted stocks of food.  Filling with food and a quick visit to the off licence followed and then we were off on our pilgrimage to meet with our friends Neil and Pauline.

Neil & Pauline's rig; a welcome sight

The red claw fishermen; Neil with helper, Chris

Emerald, contrary to my preconceived ideas of it being a more eastern Coober Pedy with dry hills and spasmodic mines offering precious stones, is in fact the centre of a thriving rural centre. “Emerald” relates to Emerald Downs, the station that was established back prior to1879 and named thus for its emerald green fertile lands, nothing to do with the precious stones that are mined further east and west. We passed through eighty or so kilometres of very gently rolling fertile lands offering proof of young grain crops, the residue of cotton fluff from the transit of that crop in weeks gone by and glimpses of  cattle grazing. Coal mining through this region is prolific but well shielded from the traveller on the main roads except for the many very late model 4WDs with hazard lights on the roof to suggest they spend most of their lives in the bowels of mines and the conveyor belts and derricks appearing above the tree line close to the German Creek Mine adjacent to this lake. 

In fact the lake was specifically established for mining purposes in 1983 and holds 10,000 mega litres of water when full. This, the mines purpose, accounts for the fact that mining vehicles have frequented the recreational area, and paid attention to the fact that the toilets are severely out of action.

Enjoying drinks before dinner

We travelled north on the Gregory Highway as far as Capella and then turned east to Tiera, passing entrances to a surprisingly great number of coal mines. To our north east lay the Peak Range, a collection of peaks and ranges standing proud above the flat plains we travelled across.  Just short of thirty kilometres, we reached the German Creek mine and turned abruptly north to the unmarked track leading to the reservoir on a few hundred kilometres of rough surface, soon identifying our fellow Lotus caravan travellers established above the lake edge and a level site higher up reserved for us. We parked up, embraced our dear friends, set up camp and lunched with them chatting nineteen to the dozen in an attempt to catch up on over a year’s chit chat.

The afternoon soon passed, we walked around the lake with Neil to check his red claw crab nets, helped him loosen them from their rocky snags, watched and appreciated their efforts in cooking an excellent roast beef dinner cooked in their iron “pig” fire and polished off bottles of beer and wine with uncommon pleasure.

What a joy it is to catch up with such excellent friends!

28 August 2012 - Emerald Botanic Gardens, Central Highlands, Queensland

I was disturbed by the flying foxes during the night, but once I had established in my semi-conscious state that it was indeed those cute nocturnal critters, I soon drifted off again. When we did finally wake, the sun was well up and half our fellow campers already gone.

We hit the road at about nine thirty and headed on westward across the Capricorn Highway, following the railroad all the time and frequently in the company of kilometre long coal hauling trains. I counted the carriages; there were usually as many as one hundred. The road trains transporting cattle east were less than yesterday, but still noticeable.

We stopped at Blackwater, called such for the tea tree tannin in the creek water rather than the coal that now gives life to the community. We drove into the town to buy supplies and found the streets wide and well set out. The town has been purpose built for the coal miners just as many forestry towns are in New Zealand. The council have tried hard to give the place character, which is of course good for the residents’ souls, all 8,000 of them. Alas that is a hard call in such a place.

Back on the side of the highway is the Blackwater International Coal Centre and the Japanese Garden. The garden is still too new; the plants have yet to develop their own form. The Coal Centre is well worth a visit, an excellent source of geological, historical and environmental education on coal. Some of the interactive exhibits are currently out of action so the entrance fee had been reduced to a gold coin donation. Even at the normal entry fee, this should not be missed. And for those who find anything educational a total bore, there is a Subway restaurant and good clean amenities.

Coal was first noted by the explorer Ludwig Leichhardt during an 1845 expedition, but large scale exploration in the Bowen Basin, which covers an area of 75,000 square kilometres, did not commence until the 1960s.  Today the Blackwater mine is one of Australia’s largest open cut coal mines producing 13 million tonnes per annum.

We lunched outside the Centre then continued on to Emerald, firstly calling into the Information Centre before heading back to this camp, already appearing quite full by the time we pulled in. An hour ago there were thirty one camping parties in; I am sure there are many more by now. We are tucked under the bridge over the Nogoa River, next to the rail bridge over the same, at one of the entrances to the Botanic Gardens. Once set up, we wandered through the gardens which seemed to be a green strip along a flood prone river. Since our walk, we have learned that the park is larger than that seen and perhaps those other parts are more attractive.

We wandered up into the town, through the main street and past the very lovely restored railway station, purchased fish for dinner at the supermarket and booked a site at the Anakie Caravan Park. No sooner had we done that, that our friend Pauline of the Sunshine Coast, rang and invited us to join them up at Boodoora Dam, a mere hundred kilometres or so away. We have since cancelled our booking at Anakie with a little white lie, but will head there after we have spent some time with our friends. So looking forward to catching up with them again! It is well over a year since we actually saw them.

27 August 2012 - Duaringa Rest Area, Capricorn Highway, Queensland

After so many many months of excellent telephone and internet reception, we are struggling to cope with the fact that we are totally incommunicado much of the time as we travel inland again. Obviously we have been too spoiled for too long! However I am not struggling with rationing water and battery power; it is simply such a joy to be bush camping once again. And so here we are this late afternoon settled into another of these amazing rest areas, this time well back from the road and at least a kilometre from the busy western coal rail line. About an hour ago, we counted about a dozen parties in; I suspect there is now at least double that number, and it is not yet five o’clock. Yellow faced honey eaters have joined the throng of birds about us, these not seen for some time; they are quite lovely.

We left our Dululu camp early this morning, not quite sure how the day would pan out, but set on visiting famous Mount Morgan. This once largest gold mine in the southern hemisphere was just a thirty two kilometre run eastwards and so we were there about nine o'clock. Mount Morgan has been heritage listed since 1981 and we do think that everyone in the town has taken that completely to heart and absolutely literally, ceasing all maintenance or upgrade work since then. We called into the newsagent to pick up a newspaper and found it to be in a dingy dark old building with nothing to suggest the modern and attractive displays one sees in all other such businesses. We also were unable to source any national paper at all; apparently their supply had sold out in the first half hour. The superette was busy but dowdy and unattractive. The locals we spoke to were all very friendly and helpful, although those not behind counters servicing the public, seemed to be idle and as dowdy as the buildings and businesses. We were later told that the population is currently about 3,000 and given this fact, we decided that the facilities and services for a population of that size were abysmal.

We had found a flat park in a street some distance from the town centre and walked up the street in the sunshine and along the main road for some distance to the Information Centre located in the Rail Museum. The women behind the desk could not have been more helpful, explaining in some detail all the points on the mud map. It seemed that the old mine is out of bounds and out of sight to all but those who pay for a commercial tour of the place and those few government workers cleaning up any residual poisons from the mining process. We were encouraged to visit the dam where we could enjoy our picnic however when we drove the couple of kilometres up there, we found little space for parking even though there was hardly anyone else there.

This same woman encouraged us to visit the museum (not the one she was tending) because it really was the best of its kind in the entire region. We did so and did learn much about Mount Morgan and its one hundred year long mining history however it, the museum, like the rest of the town, appears to have gone into a holding mode since 1981.

In short, we were disappointed with Mount Morgan and to any reader from Mount Morgan, I apologise. I would also point out to them that the three little girls I stepped over in the Ladies loo were no more sick than you or I, and should have been at school. They looked even more sprightly when we encountered them later walking in the sunshine eating sweets from the shop. I fear that they will end their days in Mount Morgan doing little with their lives unless they get well very soon.

Perhaps it is appropriate to mention here some population statistics highlighted in the museum:

The Aboriginal population is now far greater in Mount Morgan than many other areas in Australia. In the 2006 National census, Mount Morgan had 2,984 residents. Of these 10.8% were Indigenous compared with 5.7% for the nearby city of Rockhampton and 2.3% for all of Australia.

To quickly explain Mount Morgan’s claim to fame with special reference to its inception: 

Way back in 1870, a stockman by the name of MacKinlay found gold bearing rocks near the top of Ironstone Mountain. He kept this a secret and insisted his family do the same. From time to time, he whittled a little of the gold off but this was all a bit of a hobby; he was a stockman not a miner. One of his daughters became friendly with a local and divulged the family secret; she was immediately banished. The young couple married and Sandy Gordon, the young man, was working at a mine until he was sacked for drunkenness. His wife begged his employer, Fred Morgan, to reinstate her husband on the condition that Sandy would show him something worth his while. And so the secret was out and the Morgan’s registered the claim in 1882 and thus the mining enterprise began.

In 1923 there was a major miners’ strike which ended up with a fire in the mine. This was eventually extinguished but the machinery was ruined and the mine closed. In 1929 a new outfit resurrected the mine as an opencast mine and work continued until about 1981. There is talk that the mine could have another chance at life by way of the tailings being sifted through with more modern technology, but for now it is only talk.

We left Mount Morgan soon after 11.30 am, heading back to Dululu, then turned north, before joining the Capricorn Highway. This highway is greatly superior to the Burnett Highway and much busier. Dozens of trucks carrying cattle toward the Gracemere Saleyards passed us and all about us were the vast grazing lands of the Central Highlands.

We found a spot on this large rest area then set off for a walk about this town of just 247 people, around the incredibly wide streets and well-kept if modest houses. There is a roadhouse where we filled with diesel, a school, a post office, a police station, a hotel and the council office which doubles as the library. Just a block from this camp, we saw trees in a couple of private yards black with upside down flying foxes. We have since learned there are 35,000 of them and the council refuses to move them on because there are a number of pregnant females and young among them. I wonder if we will hear them tonight? I wonder if they will be noisier than the crowd of honeyeaters who are making an absolute raucous outside our caravan door?

26 August 2012 - Dululu Rest Area, Banana Shire, Queensland

We had tossed up the possibility of staying another night given the fact that the Cania Gorge Tourist Resort is one of the loveliest camps we have stayed in, but instead decided to rise early, complete the last of the chosen walks and head on our way.

And so we were breakfasted, packed up and parked up the road in the gorge before 7.30 am, all without the aid of an alarm clock. We are returning to our old routine which suits the weather and light conditions here in Queensland at this time of the year. We set off on the three hour Fern Tree Pool and Giant’s Chair circuit, following Doctor’s Gully up through the eucalypt forest between towering sandstone bluffs. The early morning mist rose up out of the gully in front of us and the birds were still fresh of throat and happy to entertain us. Soon the vegetation turned to dry rain forest, and we crisscrossed the dry bed of the creek, across large stones which in wet times must be most welcome. After about an hour we reached the deep dark pool lying near the top of the escarpment, beneath overhanging rocks and surrounded with ferns you would find in New Zealand, including maidenhair. Here we encountered a delightful couple from south Victoria with whom we could have spent the entire day conversing, however they, unlike us, had yet to return to camp, pack up and remove themselves before the 10 am pumpkin hour. We walked on, they down the gradual descent to the carpark and us on up the steep climb to the top, then along the ridge and down to a lookout high above the camp, before descending hundreds of steps through the black boys and eucalypts. We reached the carpark to intersect the Victorian couple coming from the opposite direction. We had taken just less than two hours and that included our time spent in conversation.

After a quick cup of coffee, we drove back out through the wide irrigated valley to the Burnett Highway just north of Monto and proceeded on over the Coominglah Range, a slow trip in low gear, and then down into the wide wide plains south of Biloela (pronounced Billoweela). This is cattle country, feeding the cattle market at Gracemere we visited last year from Rockhampton, but it is also well irrigated fertile lucerne and cotton growing country. We pulled into Biloela, walked through the very quiet wide streets of the town to the Visitors Centre and inquired after a map and information about the region, Banana Shire.

The Shire’s name has nothing to do with bananas, but all to do with a dead dun coloured bullock. In days gone by, stockmen used working bullocks as decoys to lead wild cattle to pens. A bullock named “Banana” was one of these. After he died, no doubt having been a good old boy to have earned such an endearing name, his body was chucked into a gully, and the gully became known as Banana Gully. Then the town that grew around the gully took its name and eventually the shire followed suit. The settlement of Banana is no longer the centre it was back in the 1880s, however is long remembered for this story.

Anyway, back to the two old ducks in the Visitor Centre, what helpful souls they were! I came away with the last of the informative books about the area, vouchers for a free drink at the RSL and a mine of other information. And speaking of mines, Biloela (which is local aboriginal speak for White Cockatoo of which there are many here), now backs it’s wealth on coal and power generation beside the agricultural activities. We were given directions and encouragement to drive out to Lake Callide and the nearby lookout from where we could view these industrial wonders, however we decided to stay with Plan A, which was to continue on our way along the Burnett Highway.

We soon learned that Biloela is shut on Sundays like many a good Queensland country town, and so we were unable to patronise the local Woolworths supermarket so instead bought fresh rolls at Anderson’s Market just along the street which was doing a roaring trade being the only commercial food outlet open for the day.

We lunched outside the Queensland Heritage Park, a museum which we were also encouraged to visit, but did not, and then headed on up toward this “township” of Dululu. Here we found this excellent free camp already well patronised by several campers, with a 48 hour time limit, power and showers available for a fee by request at the pub, the one commercial operation in the settlement. The official population is just 139 and now about thirteen camping parties to boost the numbers. We are still without internet and my battery power will probably run low soon. Time for a game of petanque with my beloved husband?

25 August 2012 - Cania Gorge Tourist Retreat, North Burnett, Queensland

Before we left this morning, I popped out to count our numbers; we were seven in last night so the pub should have done alright. Pizza was on offer from the kitchen; alas our dinner was underway when we learned that.

We passed through Monto after picking up the weekend newspaper and filling the fuel tanks with undiscounted diesel of an unfamiliar brand, but just as far as the caravan park on the northern edge of town. We had decided that we needed to be settled into a caravan park this evening to ensure we would be able to catch the All Blacks complete their slaughter of the Wallabies and retain the Bledisloe Cup for another year. Chris went in to the camp office to ask after television reception. The proprietor was un-inspirational and Chris was not at all satisfied, so we elected to move to Option B, a camp up the Cania Gorge recommended by our overnight neighbour. They were sporting both a brand new caravan and one of those very strange looking figure eight vertical aerial’s which would surely pick up Channel Nine, and were kind enough to offer to share their television since they were headed in the same direction.

Views back to our camp

And so we drove up the wide flat valley north of Monto, toward high sandstone cliffs and afforested mountains. The road was sealed but a mere single lane and the oncoming traffic almost seamless; rigs like ours all heading off to their next camp. This meant that one or both of us had to pull across to the gravel verge frequently however we persevered and no harm came. When we pulled into this camp, we knew we had made a good call although the television business was still an unknown. We quickly set up and found we could tune into the camp’s satellite dish to pick up four channels, one being Impargia, the country version of Channel Nine which broadcasts advertisements for cattle sales and … the rugby.

Assured all was sorted for the day, we set off on up through the Cania Gorge National Park to Lake Cania, a manmade earth and rock dam completed in 1983, stemming the flow of the Three Moon Creek and covering an area of 630 hectares. The recreational area on the south side of this lake is just lovely and today well patronised by fishermen and their families all enjoying the summer like weekend weather.

We lunched beside the lake, delighting in the birdlife, as usual, and especially delighted to find a family of Lazy Jacks, such funny birds with the oddest voices and group behaviour. During the afternoon we did several walks, one a wander up into the historic Shamrock mine site and the other a combination of more challenging walks at the southern end of the park.

Posing beneath overhangng rocks

Gold was discovered in this area back in February 1870. The Kroombit, a little north of here, and Cania gold fields covered an area of about 130 square kilometres. Here on the Three Moon Creek, a town was established to support the growing population which by June 1870 peaked at 1600, fifty of whom were Chinese. Alas by the late 1870s many of the workings in the area had been abandoned. Over the next thirty years, the population fluctuated as miners were drawn to follow more lucrative discoveries and finally the gold mining industry here at Cania collapsed during the 1920s.  Small amounts of mining went on by the ever hopeful over the years, however came to an absolute end when plans to build a dam on the creek were approved in 1974. The town now lies below the waters of Lake Cania and local myth tells of gold being discovered during the dam’s construction, a fact that was kept hush hush so no one would stake a claim over it and disrupt the construction.

All that remains now for the tourist is a track about the hill where once the Shamrock mine was situated. The area supported both alluvial and reef mining from 1870s and by 1910 was the principal mine in the Cania goldfields. Now there is just evidence of deep shafts, a replica gold stamper and lots of lovely eucalypts.

Palms and rocks of Cania Gorge

Back toward our camp, one of two here in the area, we walked up creek beds, along sandstone cliffs, through dry rain forest, eucalypt woodlands, past weathered caves and up masses of rocky stairs on walks named Dripping Rock and The Overhang, Dragon Cave and Bloodwood Cave and the Gorge viewpoint. By the end of all this, we were all walked out and happy to return to this very delightful camp.

The camp is wonderfully laid out, very professionally run, very popular, and set in the loveliest of landscapes. It is apparently less costly than the Big4 up the road which boasts bouncy castles and real coffee, but still costs $28 in the off peak season. Normally this would put us off, or at least put us off considering extending our stay; it has not although that is not to say we will. In the meantime we have watched the slaughter of the Wallabies yet again, this time 22:0 and will show respect for our fellow campers in the morning by not referring to the matter.