Gladstone to Calliope River......twenty six kilometres. Without going back through all our records I think this is the shortest hop we have ever done.
Needless to say, an early start was not imperative, but force of habit being what it is, we were underway by 0830 hours and heading out of Gladstone along the Dawson Highway
which soon brought us back to our old friend 'The Bruce'
and found us driving past the small township of Calliope.
It may come as no surprise to read that the camping ground to which we were heading lies alongside the Calliope River. We had checked it out as we drove south last year, and were very keen to take advantage of what it offered those travelling through this part of the country.
The group of buildings on the left of the highway heralded our approach to the turn off.
The Calliope historical village and cafe stand at the head of the entrance road to the campsite.
Initially this short stretch of bitumen parallels the highway
but soon curves away towards the river valley
and the first section of this huge camping area on this northern bank of the river. Even at this time of the morning, this end of the camp was crowded. We planned to move further on down the bank, but having seen this group my heart sank a little....surely we were here early enough to find a good spot.
We turned right and slowly made our way past the very adequate toilet block and on to the far end of the roadway. I had initially planned to pull into a spot overlooking the river but these were all occupied by folk who had either not yet left or were staying for another day.
Ah, well, if we can't see the river, let's make sure we have plenty of room. It was time for a foot recce. The lower section looked promising.
Indeed it was and as we made our way gingerly down the quite steep track to this level of the camp ground Liz began to squawk....."look who it is. I can't believe it." Sure enough, just in front of us was the van belonging to our good Brisbane friends the Westerlands. We had first met them at 80 Mile Beach over a year ago and had spent three very pleasant days parked on their front lawn en route back to Adelaide last September.
What an extraordinary coincidence this was....not only in the same camp at the same time, but had a river side spot been available we may never have noticed them. Needless to say we dropped anchor in close company. (that is their van to our left). A significant rise in the ground precluded us from 'rafting up' but we were all more than happy with the arrangements as they stood. As we settled in we knew this would be a big day!
And indeed it was....including a free concert, but more of that shortly. Firstly let me show you why this place has so much appeal.
Just beyond the point where we turned right into the camp ground, the entrance road comes to an abrupt halt. There is a very good reason for this.
Here the road becomes a river causeway which allows pedestrian access to the southern bank
of this significant river.
Camp sites are available on both banks. The southern or lower bank provides direct access to the river and tends to be more popular with those who come here to fish or paddle various craft up and down this picturesque waterway.
Hopefully this panorama (I do love this capacity of our new toy!) provides a better picture
(pun intended) of the scene on the south bank. We had tossed up as to which side we would occupy. The northern bank won out for two reasons. The road in is sealed and the area is very well grassed, as opposed to the other bank where sand and dirt are underfoot everywhere. Again, in the broader scheme of things, this decision had proved fortuitous.
On our side, as we had noted on our way in, the entry end was well populated. This is popular with those who do not wish to have to walk too far to the amenities block which is a bit of a hoof from the other extremity. We had oodles of spare capacity in our on-board toilet and no need to muscle in at this end of the park.
When we had first arrived and mutually overcome our surprise at this incredible meeting, Leonie and Russell told us that one of Leonie's relatives, Clarence Ormsby, was also in camp and an afternoon concert was in the offing.
Clarence, a Kiwi by birth, served in Vietnam as a professional soldier. Apart from his considerable military skills, Clarence is a consummate performer. Since leaving army, and amongst many other things he does, he tours the country providing entertainment at various venues, usually with some military bent, including at Standown where we had recently enjoyed such a good time with the Pecks. Clarence was due to perform in Rockhampton on the morrow, and was more than keen to indulge us all with a 'practice session.'
Mind you, Clarence does not do things by halves....having made this snap decision in no time flat he was out and about the campsite distributing posters announcing the event. I ran into the man himself as we were both on separate missions around the park, and as you can see, he is a wag.
After this chance encounter, we continued along our merry way around the camp ground, Clarence with his posters, me with camera in hand.
By now a couple of hours had elapsed since our arrival, and already they were flocking in.
Clarence, a Kiwi by birth, served in Vietnam as a professional soldier. Apart from his considerable military skills, Clarence is a consummate performer. Since leaving army, and amongst many other things he does, he tours the country providing entertainment at various venues, usually with some military bent, including at Standown where we had recently enjoyed such a good time with the Pecks. Clarence was due to perform in Rockhampton on the morrow, and was more than keen to indulge us all with a 'practice session.'
Mind you, Clarence does not do things by halves....having made this snap decision in no time flat he was out and about the campsite distributing posters announcing the event. I ran into the man himself as we were both on separate missions around the park, and as you can see, he is a wag.
After this chance encounter, we continued along our merry way around the camp ground, Clarence with his posters, me with camera in hand.
By now a couple of hours had elapsed since our arrival, and already they were flocking in.
It never ceases to amaze me at some of these free comps just how tightly packed some groups become, particularly in those areas where there is a view on offer or some other such perceived benefit. Most newcomers are respectful of others already on site, but there are always the odd (in more than one sense of the word) few who will ride roughshod over good manners and common sense to park just exactly where they please.
A river view was not a priority for us....we had a much better reason to camp where we did....the immediate company of very good friends. Despite the influx, our patch remained relatively open.
The afternoon was now upon us and in response to Clarence's widely distributed invitation, the crowd began to assemble on the slopes below the outstretched awning of the Ormsby motor home. What a setting for a gig!
Now, as you would expect given his background, Clarence is no spring chicken, but age has not yet wearied him. He gave a cracker of a performance, interspersing a wide range of popular songs with a witty and topical commentary. Liz and I found ourselves being singled our for some particular attention!
With all the electronic backing needed to make for a really professional presentation, the Ormsby 'mobile sound-shell' became the focus of the camp ground for a most entertaining hour or so.
And the troops did not take it all sitting down. Nary a dancing pump in sight and no waxed dance floors here, but this did not stop several couples from tripping the light fantastic as the worthy Clarence explored some of the more lively sections of his repertoire.
What a marvellous afternoon this had been. Coincidental meetings such as these are the stuff of travelling legend. Life on the road makes a truism of the old adage 'you never know what is around the corner'.
With Clarence's crooning complete, after several encores, our band of very happy campers wandered off for the necessary post concert libation. Liz joined the Westerlands whilst I galloped off for some last minute snaps of the afternoon influx.
With Clarence's crooning complete, after several encores, our band of very happy campers wandered off for the necessary post concert libation. Liz joined the Westerlands whilst I galloped off for some last minute snaps of the afternoon influx.
Whilst we had been cavorting with Clarence, the camp ground had been steadily filling. Our cunning choice of site meant that we still escaped the close quarters attention of any late arrivals on our starbord side
but on the upper levels along the roadway there was nary a square centimetre of unoccupied ground.
I scampered off the hill, and became part of a happy foursome settled into our camp chairs contentedly sipping on a chilled glass under the Westerland awning. Liz had decided that Max needed company. The ship's cat was languidly lazing on the grass, tied off to my chair, the side table of which was supporting my long stemmed glass and a fine bottle of bubbles.....a scene of complete camping contentment.
Meanwhile, a little further down the road, Clarence had been struggling with his awning, to the rapt attention of our group. Needless to say, there was not shortage of ribald advice and the handy hints were flowing. Finally, after a significant struggle, the awning sheeted home with a healthy bang and Clarence became the master of all he surveyed on the side of his motor home.
This was, of course, greeted with round applause from the watching quartet, and then a near catastrophe! Ebullient as he is, Russell could not help adding a roared shout of approbation to the clapped congratulations.
Well, that was altogether too much for poor old Max. Usain Bolt would not have been quicker out of the starting blocks. The Black Panther was off at full tilt, down the hill towards home with the tethered chair bouncing and shrieking in protest is his wake. Gosh the little black bugger is strong when aroused!
Max headed straight for the safety of the underside of the Cruiser where he was instantly brought up short as his sea anchor crashed into the front wheel. Liz was not far behind....panic does wonders for human athleticism! And just as well. Fetched up short like this, and with real tension on his lead, Max is able to turn and struggle backwards out of his harness, which of course he did...instantly. It was though his body had become a cake of soap.
Liz's desperate dive for our now footloose and fancy free feline did allow her a brief restraining clutch, but Max's panic was not the be assuaged.....poor Liz was shredded by bared claws as his nibs again took off, to our great relief, right to the van doorstep where he came to a shuddering halt and sat quivering in fright.
In the meantime I was beset by a much more demanding problem....our bottle of bubbles and my glass (which had been standing steady on the side table of the chair) had been thrown to the four winds by Max's ungracious departure and were both bleeding booze on the ground. Now that was a real emergency, one to which I directed immediate and frantic attention!
Later, with Max safely inside our van (he was inconsolable for hours later) and the camp chair resorted to its former spot, with glasses again in hand and general calm restored, we reflected on what might have been.
A huge ding in the side panel of the Cruiser was one bullet avoided when the chair crashed into the forgiving rubber of the front wheel. The fact that once free, Max bolted directly to the van, prevented a more catastrophic outcome. The alternative of him hurtling off across the broad and open expanses of the camp ground in a blind and unseeing panic, with no real sense of where he was and even less prospect of a safe return (his harness houses his identification medallion with our phone number etc), does not bear thinking about. One real positive to come out of this experience was the realisation that, for Max, home and safety is our van, no matter where we are.
And the chair? Well, it did plough a fine furrow down the hillside, but apart from some slightly more relaxed hinges and joints, it remains serviceable.....but clearly distinguishable from its twin! But the real miracle of this period of Calliope chaos was the fact that my champagne glass had remained intact throughout. There really is a god...Bacchus perhaps?
After all this excitement there was only one thing to do...refill, relax, reflect and rejoice. This all could have ended in bitter tears, but we had collectively survived. Mind you, by the time we repaired to join our erstwhile escapee in our van, the sun had well and truly set, the supper hour had long passed and we were feeling no pain. What an extraordinary day of surprises this had been......and folk ask us why we lead the life we do?
Meanwhile, a little further down the road, Clarence had been struggling with his awning, to the rapt attention of our group. Needless to say, there was not shortage of ribald advice and the handy hints were flowing. Finally, after a significant struggle, the awning sheeted home with a healthy bang and Clarence became the master of all he surveyed on the side of his motor home.
This was, of course, greeted with round applause from the watching quartet, and then a near catastrophe! Ebullient as he is, Russell could not help adding a roared shout of approbation to the clapped congratulations.
Well, that was altogether too much for poor old Max. Usain Bolt would not have been quicker out of the starting blocks. The Black Panther was off at full tilt, down the hill towards home with the tethered chair bouncing and shrieking in protest is his wake. Gosh the little black bugger is strong when aroused!
Max headed straight for the safety of the underside of the Cruiser where he was instantly brought up short as his sea anchor crashed into the front wheel. Liz was not far behind....panic does wonders for human athleticism! And just as well. Fetched up short like this, and with real tension on his lead, Max is able to turn and struggle backwards out of his harness, which of course he did...instantly. It was though his body had become a cake of soap.
Liz's desperate dive for our now footloose and fancy free feline did allow her a brief restraining clutch, but Max's panic was not the be assuaged.....poor Liz was shredded by bared claws as his nibs again took off, to our great relief, right to the van doorstep where he came to a shuddering halt and sat quivering in fright.
In the meantime I was beset by a much more demanding problem....our bottle of bubbles and my glass (which had been standing steady on the side table of the chair) had been thrown to the four winds by Max's ungracious departure and were both bleeding booze on the ground. Now that was a real emergency, one to which I directed immediate and frantic attention!
Later, with Max safely inside our van (he was inconsolable for hours later) and the camp chair resorted to its former spot, with glasses again in hand and general calm restored, we reflected on what might have been.
A huge ding in the side panel of the Cruiser was one bullet avoided when the chair crashed into the forgiving rubber of the front wheel. The fact that once free, Max bolted directly to the van, prevented a more catastrophic outcome. The alternative of him hurtling off across the broad and open expanses of the camp ground in a blind and unseeing panic, with no real sense of where he was and even less prospect of a safe return (his harness houses his identification medallion with our phone number etc), does not bear thinking about. One real positive to come out of this experience was the realisation that, for Max, home and safety is our van, no matter where we are.
And the chair? Well, it did plough a fine furrow down the hillside, but apart from some slightly more relaxed hinges and joints, it remains serviceable.....but clearly distinguishable from its twin! But the real miracle of this period of Calliope chaos was the fact that my champagne glass had remained intact throughout. There really is a god...Bacchus perhaps?
After all this excitement there was only one thing to do...refill, relax, reflect and rejoice. This all could have ended in bitter tears, but we had collectively survived. Mind you, by the time we repaired to join our erstwhile escapee in our van, the sun had well and truly set, the supper hour had long passed and we were feeling no pain. What an extraordinary day of surprises this had been......and folk ask us why we lead the life we do?
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