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
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!
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
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!
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