Since we began our life on the road, we have compiled a list of those Australian highways and minor roads along which we'll never again travel unless we have to. The road through the Abercrombie Range National Park between Bathurst and Goulburn in NSW is one. The Warrego Highway in QLD is another.
Well today we added to this list, and confirmed what to most experienced travellers is common knowledge......that many of the major highways in Queensland are a disgrace. Now I concede that all States have their horror roads. It's just that in Queensland they abound.
Today we were to traverse 100 kms of the Leichardt Highway and 115 of the Moonie. There will be very few photos of this....the road surfaces were so bad that most Liz took were blurred beyond any recognition, and this with our new, fast shutter speed camera.
As we always try to do, we left Goondiwindi quite early. We had a total distance of just over 250 kms to cover to reach our chosen destination of the township of Bell which, including our mid trip break, we estimated would take us about three and a half hours. That's all well and good if we can maintain our normal highway speed of 90 kph....not today!
All was well as we hauled out of 'Gundi', north bound on the A5, the Leichardt Highway. We were to pull off well before reaching either Toowoomba or Rockhampton.
The initial stages of our trip along this tree lined section of the Leichardt were fine....a few bumps but nothing which could brook a rational complaint.
Twenty kilometres north of Goondiwindi saw us at the junction of the Gore Highway which runs north-east to Toowoomba. Our planned route took us due north along the Leichardt to the tiny town of Moonie, where we too would turn eastward.
And it was from this point that the road deteriorated significantly. If I believed in omens, a very close encounter with a large kangaroo, a short distance from the highway junction, would have forewarned me of the day to come (this bounding beast was much closer than this shot indicates!)
It was from this point that our rig became a bouncing ball. I had to reduce speed to an average of 80 kph at best, with the condition of many sections forcing a further drop.
As we entered the grazing plains of the Western Downs
and finally reached Moonie, we both thought that surely the Moonie Highway, which was to take us the 115 kms east to Dalby, would have to be better than the last 100 on the Leichardt.
Well that thought didn't last long. We duly turned right in the tiny hamlet of Moonie, where the Leichardt and Moonie Highways intersect, and pointed our noses north-east. This advisory sign soon greeted us with the ostensibly good news that the road we were taking was open.
The bad news is, of course, that any highway which is the subject of regular flooding (hence the sign) axiomatically traverses flood plains. The combination of inundation (and water under the road surface) and the reactive soils of these areas spells death to a smooth surface, particularly when you add a significant level of heavy transport use to the mix.
Our hopes of a smoother run from Moonie to Dalby were dashed within the first kilometre....this highway is a shocker.....right up with the Warrego. Again a lower than usual speed was demanded for both safety and damage prevention to rig and contents.
As for photos, forget it. Liz did put the camera away until we finally took a break some 40 kms out of Dalby.
Here we shared the rest stop with a couple who asked where we were heading. "We're on our way to Bell". Now Bell is not the centre of the tourist universe, so I was somewhat taken aback by the reaction this news evoked. Of all the folk to run into, it transpired that the nephew of this couple's best friend owned the Bell Hotel. We were told that the caravan park was magnificent and that we would love our stay. What heartening news this was (we needed some by now), but were they right? I'll let you be the judge shortly.
We did check the interior of the van before moving on. We share a private joke about our overhead lockers and always take care when opening them after a stretch of rough road....'things may have moved in flight' can apply to a caravan as well as commercial aircraft. Today was a continuing testament to Liz's packing skills and the manner in which we stow our kit....nothing fell out and nothing was broken.
Dalby could not come soon enough, and we were both delighted to finally see the broad acre cotton fields on the outskirts of the town
as we made our way over the last few kilometres along the Moonie
and on into the industrial area of the town.
We were glad to finally be here after nearly four hours of highway purgatory. Add the Moonie to the no-go list!
We made our way on through the increasing traffic of this commercial side of town
and turned right onto the main road through Dalby, the Warrego Highway.
It was but a short distance to our next turning point, left this time onto the Bunya Highway, the road to Bell and beyond.
The Bunya took us out past one of Dalby's motel strips
and back into the countryside north-east of Dalby
where the ubiquitous cotton fields of this district were now framed against the distant outline of the Bunya Mountains.
We now had less than 20 kms to run through what was becoming an agricultural patchwork,
but the cotton lint on the roadside was still our travelling companion and the Bunyas were looming ever larger.
At last Bell was in sight, with its large, white grain silos the prominent feature of this small township from this distance.
We knew that our caravan park lay on the approach side of the town, and sure enough, there it was on the junction of the Bunya Highway and the narrow road running off west to Cedarville.
We had arrived with high expectations of this park, and the standard of the park sign did not disappoint. It was well presented and carried a lovely play on words. And we still had the endorsement of the couple we met en route ringing in our ears.
As we pulled up at the park office, I began to revise my thinking. At this point I must say that the couple who own and manage this park could not have been more obliging....we just have different ideas of what a park should offer....but I'll let you make your own judgement.
It was not busy at the 'Bells and Whistles' when we arrived and I was given the pick of the sites which were on offer. One look at the drive-thru's was enough to exclude them as an option. I should point out here that the site on which Liz is standing was occupied on our arrival. I did not fancy squeezing up on the narrow site immediately next to the amenities block for the duration, convenient (!) as that may have been from one perspective.
So, after wandering down the entrance road, past the camp kitchen (for which the word 'rustic' is the best I can do),
the few camp cabins on the other side of the roadway,
and a couple of vans already on site on the rear park roadway, I chose our patch for the next two days.
It was still pretty warm, so shade was important. Of all the available sites, and there were only perhaps ten or so, this was the best for us.
With a bit of backing and filling, and the use of our levelling blocks under the wheels, we were soon set up on the sadly desiccated grass.
The general state of things here was a real disappointment, made even more so by the fact that there was ample evidence of a much brighter past. These bougainvilleas, bordering the one green lawn in the park, were a delight, and were evidence of things gone by.
Even the dry grass in the remainder of the park was long and unkempt. Now I know water was tight, and short grass needs a drink, but shin height is not good enough. Grass this long is both unsightly and provides a wonderful habitat for snakes.
The small hut at the park exit gate provided another example of former glory. This mural on the wooden slat walls of 'The Shack' spoke volumes about pride and effort, but not anything recent.
It was the same story with the heads. I was completely captivated by the wonderful mural on the outside walls which included a portrait of the founder of the town, Sir Joshua Peter Bell,
and a depiction of the significance of rail in the town's development. This, like the park sign, had been really well thought out and presented.
To my great disappointment, the standard of the exterior of this facility was not matched by that found in the 'working section' inside, which was 'quaint' to say the least. Unfortunately, no degree of quirkiness can mask the fact that the entire floor was in desperate need of a repaint,
and I'll let the shower cubicles speak for themselves. The shower did function efficiently, but the state of repair was something the like of which I had only experienced once before....in that oddity of a park which sits on the edge of Hamelin Pool at the foot WA's Shark Bay (I just re-checked our park notes for that one....'never again' is the comment)
Sadly, both the amenities block and the camp kitchen, two critical components of a caravan park infrastructure, components which can make all the difference to a good or bad stay, were in this case, seriously lacking. From what we learnt whilst here, they and their surrounds were a real reflection of a park suffering from the triple whammy of drought, the increasing use of 'free camps' by caravanners and worn out management.
But, despite these disappointments, and with our hard won experience, we coped adequately, and once we had taken the time to stroll around the town, we were more than glad we had chosen Bell as a stop-over point on our journey to the coast.
This small town has within its boundaries a real gem, something the like of which we had never seen before. For me at least, it was breathtaking.
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