Cania Gorge, bull dust, Townsville and west again.

We passed through Childers (where, ten years ago, so many back packers died in the Palace Hotel fire which was started deliberately- the arsonist and murderer was tipped out for not paying his rent and felt some pay back was in order). The Palace Hotel largely survived but is now converted to a memorial art gallery that is tastefully done. We arrived at Cania Gorge and settled in with a good meal and a Meryl Streep/Steve Martin movie that was put on under the stars for campers benefit. It was special to have Bettongs hopping around in the half light, at our feet, as we watched a funny but typically Hollywood story of the well heeled (aren’t they always) long divorced and in the throes of sclerotic late onset romance. On our walks we found some evidence of rock art, often defaced sadly. On the otherwise unadorned underhang within one of the caves there was even a modern stencil of a hand, perhaps done with ochre (there was a lot about) in the way of the previous occupiers of that place. So obviously new and it had us wondering about what is kosher and what not. We spent two nights at Cania so we could explore the old gold mine sites up the gullies, and look at the Cania Dam that has now flooded the original township, before moving on.

Back to the coast again, Bowen being the objective. But not before we had tested the veracity of the HEMA maps we have been using all along. We crossed through broad open upland plains,into coal country - the Bowen Basin. Everywhere in Queensland seems to be sitting on coal and it’s being ripped out faster than you can say Al Gore, but I repeat myself. After finding the charming villages of Rannes, Goovigen and Einvold, all settled by Norwegians, we found the roads we expected simply did not exist, and we ended up on the coal haul road with the 50 metre long road trains, within a mine complex. Arriving at a sentry controlled boom gate and looking bemused we politely asked “can you let us out please?” Apparently there will be words at management level about it, so I suggested they might think about buying a gate for the other end!

We got to Bedford weir 25kms north of Blackwater finally – a council operated park with good services and a cheerful caretaker running a line in exchange books. His main task was to remove green tree frogs from the toilet cisterns because they caused them to flush non-stop, keeping visitors awake. Actually that is a good place to hide from olive pythons and other snakes if you happen to be a green tree frog. We were advised to put the lid down after use. The following morning, now mindful of the weaknesses of our map, we cautiously prepared a route that would be direct and easy. And ignoring it immediately as Helen said “nothing ventured, nothing gained”, we promptly set off on a new unmarked bitumen road heading due north where we wanted to go. “This is OK, it has to go somewhere useful”. 80 kms later it stopped at a T junction with a feeble track, One of many possibilities. Two wrongs don’t make a right and two bad calls had us another 80 kms heading relentlessly south. It helps to be philosophical about these things.

If we had not ventured though we wouldn’t have gained as it turned out. We were now on a very different road than originally planned, and found ourselves at the Nebo pub at lunch time. The pub was fabulous, old, full of character and young people on a Saturday lunch time. Four men arrived wearing matching chequered shirts and we asked them what was the uniform about, and were politely informed there was a rodeo in town, as we spoke. We have been promising ourselves a visit to a rodeo (never seen this before), so for the grand sum of $10 a head, plus the cost of a Bundy and Coke for effect, we spent the afternoon having a great time. I’m glad I had my Akubra hat with me, but it was definitely too much the “Pastoralist” to blend in. Far more an RM Williams affair; the jingle of spurs could be heard around the concreted terraces. It was a wonderful atmosphere amongst people who work very hard, often for not a lot but sometimes a great deal. A bull bred to buck well can be worth $80,000! We had a ball and left in time to make Elphinstone Lake before night fall.  

We made an important decision about our plans, which had been very sketchy up to that point.

Post was waiting for us at Townsville and Helen had heard how good the beaches at Bowen are, so we made a lunge for the coast again. Bowen is a half forgotten sort of place but with beautiful beaches, good seafood wholesale even on a Sunday, and lots of fruit and veg as you would expect in Qld. Moving up the coast to Townsville, Queensland’s second largest town, we unhitched the rig and left it at the information centre so we were unfettered in the Woolies car park and the city streets. It is a nice place, with a long Strand and views overlooking Magnetic Island just a couple of kilometers off the coast.

A really good café served the best Bircher muesli I’ve had while H gorged on a stack of corn fritters with bacon and avo and other good things. The views from Castle Hill lookout, towering above the town, are magnificent. With stocks replenished we headed to Charters Towers and then north to a free camp beside Fletcher Creek for the night (the paragraph above about the zephyrs refers).

Today we got on the road early so we could do a 150km dirt track that skirts “The Great Basalt Walls”, so named on the maps. Four hours later we’d had a delightful drive free of corrugations, but no sign of the wall at all! Apparently it is the end of a long lava flow about 3 metres high, lost in the bush on private property. Not to worry. So the plan now is to head for Mt Isa, visit Lawn Hill and Cammoweal near the NT border, then south and west through desert country along the Sandover or Plenty Highways to Alice. That way we have the option of leaving the rig there and flying back to Melbourne for Andy’s wedding (going back end July and continuing west), or driving back reasonably quickly if time is short.