OUR NOTES WERE ACCURATE - TWO NIGHTS IN TINY WOOROOLIN (22 -23 MAY 2016)

I cannot take our leave of Bell without one last photo.  The owners of the park in which we stayed also breed cattle dogs. 

This captivating little fellow and his sister were the last of the litter. They were due to be taken to their new homes on the day of our departure. In the meantime, they were more than pleased to become the centre of attention for a few passing moments as we sallied forth into town. 

Today we were again on the road early on the short 95 kilometre jaunt north-east to a free camp at the tiny town of Wooroolin.

With the haze over the ridges of the Bunya Mountains in the distance

we soon found ourselves meandering through the hilly country outside Bell.

After all the kilometres we had travelled recently across the open plains of northern NSW is was quite odd to be traversing highway cuttings again.

We were heading into the Queensland region of the South Burnett, famed for its agriculture and horticulture.

More hills

and the lush green of irrigated lucerne paddocks

heralded our approach to Kumbia

which was soon in our rear vision mirrors as we made our way steadily towards the peanut capital of Australia, Kingaroy.

Here we had to attend to an urgent domestic matter....emptying our toilet cassette. We firstly checked at the showgrounds caravan park which fronts the road on which we entered the townonly to be told that their dump point is for use by those staying in the park only.  At least the lass on the other end of the phone was able to give us directions to the public facility in a nearby street (we had previously unsuccessfully searched for this) and finally the job was done.  

This very important part of the van’s infrastructure was now empty and ready for late action. Having already refuelled as we approached the town, we were now at our required operating status.....full fuel tanks and an empty head. It was time to move on.

Our route out of Kingaroy from the dump point took us through a couple of the streets of the older part of town

and back onto the Bunya Highway. Our destination of Wooroolin was this side of Wondai.  We were almost there.

So, past a few paddocks of swaying sunflowers,

a last descent off the low hills south of the town,

and here we were approaching the hamlet of Wooroolin and our planned resting place for a couple of nights.

The free camp site here lies on the main highway through the town.  We had spotted it last year when we were traversing The Bunya in the opposite direction as we were making our way south to visit friends in Brisbane. As always, we just hoped that the notes Liz makes as we travel, and our joint recollection of a huge, level and grassy expanse of a camp ground were accurate.

They were, and we were soon settled next to the fence which divides the site from the rusting bulk of the now defunct railway sheds.

As you can see from this shot, we had plenty of ‘elbow room’...the camp was all but deserted.

This is a really large ‘free camp’, on a par in area with Mendooran, but here there is no river nor are there any trees. The grass was a deal more ‘crunchy’ than we had seen last year, but this came as no surprise given the dry season. As it was, we had sufficient underfoot to be comfortable without the need for any of our flooring. This made setting up a very simple affair.

Between the camp ground and the main street (which is the Bunya Highway) is the small wooden home of the local CWA and a rotunda which overlooks the area.

The entrance boasts a prominent sign on which the ‘history of Wooroolin’ (such as it is) is recorded. As cricket lovers, The name of Karl Rachemann was well know to both of us....the big blonde quick terrorised many an opposition batsman in his heyday.

Apart from the space available here in the Wooroolin free camp, a nearby toilet block provides a facility which is rarely found in these types of places...a coin operated hot shower no less.

And for those seeking a refreshing ale after a hard day on the road, the Wooroolin Grand Hotel is situated a mere 100 metres or so beyond the camp area. Liz and I did breast the bar late on the Sunday afternoon of our arrival only to find that a few of the locals were well in their cups and that evening meals were only available Thursday to Saturday.

In the circumstances, we downed our drinks and left somewhat disappointed that we had not been able to have a good chat to one of the townsfolk....them’s the breaks.....The ‘Grand’ was sadly not too grand at all!

And so it was that we repaired back to our van to find that by now we had company, although there was still a lot of grass between all of us.

In a later lengthy chat with the local butcher he told us that during the peak, when southerners are flocking home for the opening of the bowls season and the footy (AFL) grand final week (Victorians of course...in their thousands), he has looked out from his shop window and not been able to see any spare spots at all. Now that would be a sight, and as he commented, it is one to gladden his heart from a sales perspective.

Which leads me neatly into our foot patrol of Wooroolin’s main street and a touch beyond.  There is not much to it. At the northern end, opposite the pub, we found a quite large machinery and farm implement business

from which we could look south along Wooroolin’s short commercial ribbon.

Apart from a general store or supermarket (everyone here pops into Kingaroy) the range of businesses here reflected the local needs. Included in the commercial premises to be found here are a post office and veterinary clinic

a cafe and take-away shop, which opened at 0630 hours every morning and was very popular with much of the passing trade, particularly the truckies, the Memorial Hall and the local butcher (from whom we made several very tasty purchases).

Beyond these, and the rather dilapidated town tennis courts

the only remaining commercial premises here deals in  tractors.

Or does it?  As we took a closer look at the advertising on the front of the building, I was staggered to find this. A Lamborghini dealer in Wooroolin.....surely not. To my great dismay, the doors of this establishment did not open during our stay....I would have been off like a shot to delve into this apparent mystery, but as it is it remains unsolved.

Apart from our ramble along the main drag, we trudged up the hill of one of the town’s side streets to get some feel for Wooroolin’s very limited ‘suburbia’. Here we found some distinct contrasts between this row of modern looking homes

and this, at the top of the street, a residence which had clearly seen much better days.

For such a small town, the Wooroolin school is impressive. There is obviously a large catchment area of students.

something which has equally obviously been the case for some time.

Here, too, we found another example of the old and the new when it comes to local housing

and took the opportunity to look back down over the buildings of the main street.

Our other Wooroolin ‘constitutional’ found us plodding along the roadway which follows the banks of the nearby wetlands.

Given the narrowness of this strip of bitumen and the fact that the bends in it are virtually ‘blind’ corners we were staggered to find that the  speed limit along here was ‘open’.....in this case 100 kph.  What nonsense.  










Fortunately during our ramble, only one truck from a nearby farming property passed us in a cloud of dust as we headed for the bush!

We stretched our legs for a good two kilometres along this back road, past a local vineyard (that was the last thing we expected to find), 

and fields of something we could not identify with certainty,

until we finally arrived at Wooroolin Sports Ground, a facility which is clearly past its glory days.

Much of the blurb about Wooroolin talks about the bird hide in the wetlands and the opportunity presented here for serious twitchers. Well we did reach the point where we could just see out over the wetlands

But as for the bird hide....I don’t thinks so.  The path from where we were standing on relatively clear ground was covered with tangled scrub....’snake heaven’.  We did not darken the interior of this bird hide, believe me!

We had enjoyed this romp around the town. All that now remained for the day was to break out our trusty Baby Q, bring some of the purchases from the local butcher to a state of sizzling perfection in our open air galley, break open a fine bottle of bubbles and toast our stay as twilight descended on the town.


And that, dear readers, brings our sojourn in Wooroolin to a close. The amenity of the free camp ground, maintained as it is like so many others to attract folk (and their dollars) to the town, was all we had hoped for. We really enjoyed our short stay, but it was now time to move on. 

A rendezvous with our good friends the Pecks (we stayed with them in nearby Proston last year) at the highly rated Standown Caravan Park (located between Gympie and Rainbow Beach) awaited us. And here I had been charged to engage in a subterfuge....more of this in my next!