Plan 'A' was no longer an option. Our quest to spend two nights at the most excellent and commodious Calliope River free camp, a tad north of Gladstone, had been stymied by the potentially ominous glow of the dashboard fuel filter warning light.
I was sure that I had drained the filter of the offending water accumulation, but apart from the fact that the incessant glare of the warning light was a constant irritation, any unresolved problem with fuel can spell disaster for a diesel engine such as ours. We know of one fellow traveller for whom complacency in the face of a fuel warning resulted in a $12,000 engine repair. We had no intention of following that path.
So it was Plan 'B' for the Mobile Marshies, a detour into Gladstone and a visit to the local Toyota dealer. We had arranged to present our trusty mechanical steed at 1100 hours, and although the trip for the day was a mere 125 kms, I was more than keen to ensure that we allowed plenty of time to setup, unhitch and darken the doors of our saviours on time.
We left Agnes Water with mixed feelings. The caravan park was altogether too 'busy' for us. Whilst we have no difficulty understanding why many, for whom a beach side life has not been the norm, flock here for 'the season' of sun and surf, for us the crowds, constant bustle, noise and glitz are not our cup of tea. We much preferred 1770, but suspect that we may well have 'been there...done that'. Time will tell.
For now it was the back track in the early morning light to Miriam Vale safe in the knowledge that our way was open (not that we had any reason to suspect it may not have been so).
At this time of the morning the road was ours to enjoy in complete solitude. In no time we were tootling past the typical Queenlanders at the back end of Miriam Vale
and past the club house of the local footy club, 'The Magpies', where the members of this august sporting body have gone to great lengths to ensure that their feathered club emblem is there for all to see.
Over the town railway crossing and we were back on our old highway friend, 'The Bruce'.
We hauled right at the junction and made our way north through the early morning traffic of Miriam Vale,
past its quaintly named and decorated 'Big Crab' service station and out onto the open road again.
The shadows were still casting long across the highway as the little highway town of Bororen came and went
and after a few more kilometres had slipped beneath our eight wheels, we came to the reminder of Plan 'A', the sign to Calliope. But Plan 'B' demanded a right hand twist of the steering
and the small challenge of negotiating the quite extensive roadworks through which we had to travel
to join the Port Curtis Way and the last 19 kms of our route into the port town Gladstone.
Notwithstanding the fact that the Bruce Highway traverses the coastline of Queensland from one end to the other, it does not hug the shore. Gladstone is one of a number of major coastal towns which lie some distance to the east of the Bruce. As we made our way towards our destination for the day
we were surprised by just how hilly the countryside through which we were passing was.
I must say that I was not entirely engaged in marvelling at this new stretch of road (for us). I was a man on a mission. Rarely am I pleased to reach the outskirts of a bustling town,
but as we wended our way through what would amount to the northern suburbs of Gladstone
where we were learning that Gladstone is a town of hills,
and engaged in a final tussle with the morning traffic I was pleased to be here. The bloody fuel warning light was driving me nuts!
One last left lunge off the main suburban thoroughfare
found us pulling up at the entrance to the rather grandly named Kin Kora Village Tourist and Residential Home Park.
We had chosen this for our one night Gladstone stand on pure spec. We had not been too fussed one way or another about what might confront us as far as our park amenity was concerned....we were but in and out, and for a reason. We were not here as 'tourists' but out of necessity.
And this is where we had our first pleasant surprise. The more than welcoming park manager invited us to select whatever patch of grass we liked in the park drive-thru sites and let him know where we had settled in due course. This was music to our ears, or mine at least. We were still on schedule for our Toyota rendezvous, but had limited wriggle room as far as the clock was concerned. To be able to briskly drive onto our plot and disengage the Cruiser with limited fuss and bother was a real boon.
We moored with alacrity. We had acres in which to manoeuvre. This was wonderful. And although the grass does appear a little threadbare in this shot, at our doorway and right along the side of the van it was green and lush. We had some shade, this back end of the park was peaceful with limited traffic noise, and as you can see, there was no shortage of 'elbow room'.
Once we had unhitched it was off post haste through the industrial area of Gladstone to the Toyota dealers. We had actually made very good time and took the opportunity to do a quick scout around the marina area of this interesting town (so we discovered) before presenting the Cruiser for the required remedial action.
How very glad we were that we had made the detour. The polite young mechanic who had been tasked to deal with our problem appeared in the very well appointed waiting room where we were using the time to catch up with some reading, to tell me that, yes, I had been successful in draining the filter of the offending H2O, but that was not the end of it. The filter was clogged with accumulated gunk (as it is designed to do) and should be replaced.
Given that we had fitted a new filter before leaving Adelaide and had since travelled only just less than 4,000 kms since, I was just a tad suspicious about this advice. Rather than make a direct challenge, I asked to be shown what a really dirty filter actually looked like for future reference, and then felt a little guilty.....it was absolutely black. Despite the almost paranoid care we take to ensure that we always fill at brand name outlets and those with the greatest turnover wherever we can, it was clear to me now that we can never be assured that our tanks have been filled with really clean diesel. The state of this filter served to confirm that our caution in relation to what enters the tank is well justified. Heavens knows what it would have been like otherwise.
Our man toddled off again, and in no time was back with the news that all was fixed. It was then I made the more important request....would they show me how to disengage the warning light once the filter had been drained? Of course they would, and not only that, these most obliging folk at Gladstone Toyota actually printed out the step by step procedure on our service receipt. Now how good is that!
After this most positive visit, we left rejoicing. Our new filter was fully engaged in grasping any minute pieces of detritus in our fuel, a bit like an anemone filtering out its food from the passing currents, and that tension inducing warning light in the dash array was finally extinguished.
It was time to have a quick look around Glastone. And herein lies our second surprise of this visit.....we found ourselves in a very interesting town. After what can only be described as a superficial recce, both on foot and by vehicle, we both agreed that this is a town which demands a much closer examination. We plan to do just that when next this way (no photos this time!)
For now and for us it was time to make our way back to our temporary home and re-hitch before taking a wander around the rest of the park,
the entrance to which passes under an avenue of large trees.
And this is where we had our first pleasant surprise. The more than welcoming park manager invited us to select whatever patch of grass we liked in the park drive-thru sites and let him know where we had settled in due course. This was music to our ears, or mine at least. We were still on schedule for our Toyota rendezvous, but had limited wriggle room as far as the clock was concerned. To be able to briskly drive onto our plot and disengage the Cruiser with limited fuss and bother was a real boon.
We moored with alacrity. We had acres in which to manoeuvre. This was wonderful. And although the grass does appear a little threadbare in this shot, at our doorway and right along the side of the van it was green and lush. We had some shade, this back end of the park was peaceful with limited traffic noise, and as you can see, there was no shortage of 'elbow room'.
Once we had unhitched it was off post haste through the industrial area of Gladstone to the Toyota dealers. We had actually made very good time and took the opportunity to do a quick scout around the marina area of this interesting town (so we discovered) before presenting the Cruiser for the required remedial action.
How very glad we were that we had made the detour. The polite young mechanic who had been tasked to deal with our problem appeared in the very well appointed waiting room where we were using the time to catch up with some reading, to tell me that, yes, I had been successful in draining the filter of the offending H2O, but that was not the end of it. The filter was clogged with accumulated gunk (as it is designed to do) and should be replaced.
Given that we had fitted a new filter before leaving Adelaide and had since travelled only just less than 4,000 kms since, I was just a tad suspicious about this advice. Rather than make a direct challenge, I asked to be shown what a really dirty filter actually looked like for future reference, and then felt a little guilty.....it was absolutely black. Despite the almost paranoid care we take to ensure that we always fill at brand name outlets and those with the greatest turnover wherever we can, it was clear to me now that we can never be assured that our tanks have been filled with really clean diesel. The state of this filter served to confirm that our caution in relation to what enters the tank is well justified. Heavens knows what it would have been like otherwise.
Our man toddled off again, and in no time was back with the news that all was fixed. It was then I made the more important request....would they show me how to disengage the warning light once the filter had been drained? Of course they would, and not only that, these most obliging folk at Gladstone Toyota actually printed out the step by step procedure on our service receipt. Now how good is that!
After this most positive visit, we left rejoicing. Our new filter was fully engaged in grasping any minute pieces of detritus in our fuel, a bit like an anemone filtering out its food from the passing currents, and that tension inducing warning light in the dash array was finally extinguished.
It was time to have a quick look around Glastone. And herein lies our second surprise of this visit.....we found ourselves in a very interesting town. After what can only be described as a superficial recce, both on foot and by vehicle, we both agreed that this is a town which demands a much closer examination. We plan to do just that when next this way (no photos this time!)
For now and for us it was time to make our way back to our temporary home and re-hitch before taking a wander around the rest of the park,
the entrance to which passes under an avenue of large trees.
We soon discovered that this park is well named, well as far as the 'Residential Home Park' bit goes at least. We had been surprised by the fact that we were only one of a mere handful of transient guests as the open spaces
and many empty sites demonstrated.
It is clear that this park has seen better days, but in saying that I have to again comment that we could not have been happier with our choice. The many permanents here, which obviously provide the necessary income to allow the park to exist,
are all very well accommodated in a range of neat little homes in an area sensibly well separated from the other sections of the park (respect for their privacy precluded better snaps).The park also houses a few rather quaint little cabins,
and a more than adequate BBQ area and camp kitchen which was but a very convenient hop, step and jump down the roadway from our van. The well appointed and efficient amenities block was also to be found in this area.
And this afternoon, a good camp BBQ was just what we were after.
As the snags sizzled and the patties popped on the clean hot plate (they are not always so) we were joined by a nearby resident who was on for a chat.
And a very pleasant chap he was, a Yepoon local, who had come south to Gladstone for work. He makes his living cleaning and maintaining private swimming pools. Why Gladstone, we asked.
It turns out that many rental homes here, all of which have pools as a matter of course, are now vacant as a result of the downturn in the mining industry. And in the absence of tenant care, these have to be maintained in sparkling condition if the frustrated landlords are to stand any competitive chance in this highly challenged market. This is in addition to all those who have their pools cleaned no matter the fact that they are in residence. Our new found friend, who lived for five days a week in the van next to the camp kitchen and travelled home for the weekends, was making a killing. We applauded his enterprise and enjoyed his company.
And as if to highlight our most unexpectedly pleasant and successful sortie into Gladstone, a flock of feathered friends dropped in to share raucous evening greetings as they voraciously attacked the goodies left out for them by another park resident.
Rainbow lorikeets are colourful at the best of times. But here, highlighted by shafts of light
from the setting sun, they presented us with a superb splash of colour as they swirled and squabbled over their pecking order. What a delightful way this was to end our brief Gladstone stay.
Tomorrow we shall resume Plan 'A'.......Calliope River free camp and an even greater surprise awaited us.
No comments:
Post a Comment