After a deal of thought (and a couple of unpublished experiments) I have decided to try bringing our adventures to you on a monthly basis (as is probably pretty obvious from the heading!). There may be more than just the one depending on our activities and the degree of either novelty or new horizons.
I intend to rely far less on photos other than when we spend time in a new park or town of some real interest (again, obviously from my perspective).
Let's dip our toes in the water!
After our Kurrimine Beach highinks and seriously fond farewells to all remaining, it was time to begin the trek south at the very end of September. We were booked into Caloundra for the latter part of October. Another round of grand nonsense awaited in the form of the next of my UN Forces reunions. We had attended a similar bash here on the Sunshine Coast in 2009, when we hauled our much smaller Coromal van north from Adelaide in what was the first of our serious sorties.
I was that experience which, for us, confirmed Caloundra as one of our favourite places in Australia. We were very much looking forward to our return, although we had been warned to expect significant changes.
Massive expanses of new housing developments in the surrounding areas had brought an influx of folk to this most southern town on the Sunshine Coast with the inevitable increase in traffic. This advice turned out to be annoyingly accurate, but most of the central area was as we had remembered it.
We began our journey south with a very short leg.....all 76 kms of it to Cardwell where we spent a couple of nights in the seafront Beachcomber Motel and Tourist park, one we have used before (see blog August 2012). The site we had chosen this time was not the best we have enjoyed, but we had selected it specifically for its shade, and in that respect it did the trick very nicely.
The redevelopment of the Cardwell foreshore area (including a very good linear walking path) after the devastation wrought on the town by Cyclone Yasi was, by now, complete and we did enjoy a couple of good hoofs along its length, virtually from one end of this quite historic town to the other.
One of the obvious attractions of any stay here is the wonderful view out over the northern end of the Hinchenbrook Channel across to the bulk of the large island of the same name, the very same isle we had viewed from afar during Cameron's stay with us.
Today the mass of cloud above the peaks looked for all the world like a volcanic eruption. Obviously it wasn't, but this sight provided a real reminder of the moisture coming off the Coral Sea and the way in which even a small land mass will force the prevailing on shore trade winds high enough to for condensation to occur. The wet tropics indeed!
This short sojourn gave us the time to re-adjust to 'life on the road' again after our three months in Kurrimine Beach, to remember and re-establish all the routines associated with being on the move, and to just basically 'get our travelling act together again'.
It worked. Although the first few pull-downs and hitches did demand some serious concentration, as did towing again after a three month hiatus, it all fell into place seamlessly. It's all a bit like learning to ride a bike really... once mastered never forgotten altogether.
An overnight stop at Home Hill, just south of the cane town of Ayr was next on our agenda. With the 270 km run through Ingham and Townsville to get there, we were beginning to get right into the swing of things.
The massive structure of the Silverlink Bridge which spans the wide Burdekin River,
a vast waterway which was, at this time of the year, reduced to a few channels meandering through the sandy flats of its bed, was a familiar but not entirely welcome sight.
This is a very long bridge, and the roadway over the river below is just wide enough to allow safe passage of large lumps such as we. With the approach of the bulky semis which stalk the Bruce Highway, passing safely demands some serious concentration.
All went well and as we rejoiced in our safe crossing, we soon had a reminder that we were still very much in cane country.
Home Hill is a relatively small town which, as far as we grey nomads is concerned, punches well above it weight. There is a small caravan park here, but most who pull in to spend the night use either the long, free campsite along the railway line complete with excellent purpose built showers and toilets (we did this last time) or take up temporary residence at the local showground, where all facilities are available for the quite moderate fee of $20 per night.
The on site caretaker (an interesting bloke!) directed us to a large, drive-thru site
not too far from the open camp kitchen area which could best be described as 'interesting'.
Equally esoteric are the two large statues which greet visitors on arrival, purportedly representing cane workers, although the connection is a shade less than immediately obvious.
Not so the smoke which rose in an expanding cloud over a cane field as the sun began to set on Home Hill.
In this part of Queensland, unlike the practice further to the north, the cane cockies still fire their stands before cutting. You may remember the experience we had whilst over-nighting in nearby Ayr (although given this was in 2015 you are forgiven for forgetting!) when the field right next to one of the boundaries of the caravan park in which we were staying was fired.....the sight was nothing short of spectacular, but I was less than impressed by the amount of ash which fell on our awning. Fortunately none of it was still alight, but I did spend a few anxious moments with the hose at the ready.
The cane leaves and general detritus between the rows burns with extraordinary speed once the torch is put to it. Huge and rapidly rising plumes of dark smoke result. We have actually witnessed one cane fire which was so intense the top of the smoke column formed its own cumulus cloud.
This was not to be this evening when, as is so often the case, the fire subsided almost as quickly as it had arisen, but we were treated to a significant spectacle nevertheless.
Another of our favored spots along the North Queensland coast is Emu Park, just south of the larger town of Yepoon. We had not previously been able to actually stay here, but in recent times wiser heads than have previously held sway have now prevailed, and the caravan park in this pretty town is now pet friendly.
The 650 kms separating Emu Park from Home Hill was well beyond our daily driving limit, so we broke the journey with a return visit to the marvellous park in Sarina, but I've already included that few days in my previous offering on the park and the town (see blogs posted January 2020).
By now we had put Bowen, Proserpine, Airlie Beach and Mackay behind us, and were beginning to make some serious inroads into the long distances which are part and parcel of any trip to Far North Queensland. We always have to remind ourselves when in this part of the country that Brisbane to Cairns is as far as Brisbane to Adelaide!
The 350 kms journey to Emu Park took us off the Bruce Highway just west of the town, where a back road soon had us arriving on the outskirts of this quite hilly coastal town which looks directly across the water to Great Keppel Island.
A flaming potted bougainvillea stood like a beacon of colourful welcome at the entrance to the Fisherman's Beach Caravan Park, where, after the formalities were completed at the office
I wandered off down to the site we were initially given at the far northern end of the park where, apart from the fact that it directly overlooked the quite busy road below, there was scant shade to be had.
Now if the park had been crowded I would have meekly accepted our fate, but this was clearly not the case. It was time for a chat!
Unfortunately the lass in the office was a mere minion and could not arbitrarily make the decision to change our allocation (made by the boss the day before), and of course Murphy's Law dictated that the park managers were both away for the day. This was not shaping up well.
But I'll give this young lady her due. In the face of a fair degree of polite insistence on my part (yes you doubters....I was polite....at my charming best....The Matron was breathing down my neck!), she rang head office. Common sense prevailed and we were soon establishing ourselves on a much more user friendly patch under the spreading boughs of not one, but two trees.
The grass was a little sparse due to the drought, but with out C-Gear annex floor down, the awning spread and my wind direction flag aflutter, we were well set.
The ablutions block for our end of the park was conveniently close, but was well past its use by date. Notices posted throughout proclaimed the fact that this was about to be demolished and replaced by a new facility. Hear, hear!
The southern end of the park, beyond the office and the camp kitchen opposite, houses the sites which are now 'dog friendly', and as you can see, this area was jam packed. Had the park policy not been altered recently,
this area would have been as vacant as the drive thru sites opposite.
And here's another point for which the young lass in the office scores full marks....she independently took the view that a cat should not be put in amongst dogs....she pressed the point with her superiors and, bingo, we were allowed the site I had chosen, even although it was not within the 'animal friendly' area.
The camp kitchen near the front office is a cracker. It even included a brand new, large hooded BBQ.
A second outdoor cooking area, nearer to our site, was functionally, if not quite so lavishly, equipped, although it did come with the wherewithal for a game of outdoor chess for those who felt the need for some intellectual stimulus (or the chance to very publicly show off a superior intelligence!).
Those arriving here with tents or roof top campers and so on were well catered for in a sheltered depression behind the tree line along the sand hills which separated this park from the beach, although this patch had one distinct drawback to which I'll allude shortly.
At one end of this campers' area a small gap in the fence
led into a pathway directly to the beach.
And it is a fine beach, seen here looking south towards a breakwater and boat ramp area
and in the opposite direction, to a headland at the southern extremity of Emu Park where some are lucky enough to live in large homes with magnificent views out over the South Pacific Ocean and across to the Keppel Island group.
We mere meandering mortals, strolling along the sandy shore, had to be content with a ground level view of Great Keppel Island, which at the time we were so engaged, was hiding behind a screen of quite heavy morning haze.
Just beyond the southern end of this fine stretch of sand, which was, in days of yore, the social hub of Emu Park, with horse racing on the sands and a famous oyster salon right on the beach front, the magnificently designed and constructed Memorial pathway and monuments are a real town highlight (see blog posted August 2016).
The small township of Emu Park is one of our favourites, but I've banged on about this already in 2016. We did give some serious thought to real estate here, but have since decided that we really are South Australians through and through.
The one thing I didn't mention, because until we stayed here at this particular park I did not know about them, was the local bat (sorry, flying fox) colony.
The penny dropped when I spotted this information board at the entrance to the beach pathway the day after our arrival.
And what a colony it is. At first I had trouble finding any of these rather smelly, noisy and decidedly odd looking little animals. I've circled this small group almost hidden in the foliage to demonstrate what I mean.
However, a little more diligent searching left me thinking "how on earth could I have missed this?" Here on these bare branches they were festooned like baubles on a Xmas tree,
and whilst some in the colony made the branches of this bare tree their daily roosting location (and could often be seen madly fanning themselves with their wings during the heat of the day), most preferred to hang out (it's been a while!) with their buddies under the shade of overhead leaves.
I was staggered by the strength of their 'fingers'. This little fellow was grooming away, scratching and preening whilst seemingly literally hanging by a thread (or foot, or whatever)
Amazing sights, but as I mentioned earlier, those in the camping area also got to enjoy the quite pungent smells and noisy screeching which is part and parcel of a bat colony....we were very happy where we were, thank you, well away from both!
Having said that, however, we have learnt just how important these black flying foxes and their red-faced cousins are to the pollination of a wide variety of plants and trees. It had come as a real surprise to have discovered that they are just as important as bees in this regard.
It is utterly fascinating to sit in the gathering dusk and watch massed numbers of these creatures take to the air on their leathery wings, flying off in spooky silence to their night feeding grounds, and it is amazing to find in just how many places around Queensland and northern New South Wales this is a common phenomenon.
But enough of bats (sorry, again....flying foxes....the pundits become quite upset if this distinction is not made!) back to Emu Park itself.
Apart from the fine local RSL about which I have previously waxed lyrical, Emu Park is serviced by a good little pub and a fine bowls club. On the night before our departure we wandered down (it was less than a five minute walk away) and joined many of the locals in a fine meal and a quite beverage or two.
But whilst on the subject of the RSL, where we did pop in for a quiet Sunday afternoon glass or two, this became the venue for another of those incredible meetings which seem to punctuate our travels with eerie regularity. As we breasted the bar I glanced across at a group of members chatting away nearby. One of their number looked more than familiar, and the penny soon dropped when he walked towards us.
I took the punt...."Now I'm possibly about to make a complete fool of myself, but tell me, weren't you in the Sarina Palms caravan park a few days ago?" "I was", he replied. The fact of the matter, which we quickly confirmed, is that he and his wife had briefly occupied the site right next to ours. We didn't get round to chatting then, but made up for it now. He was the Emu park RSL Branch secretary......you just can't take us anywhere!
Apart from one night here, our third, life at Fisherman's Beach was all beer and skittles, but, oh, what a night the odd one out was!
The forecast had warned of potential overnight storms, some possibly quite severe. At just after 0230 hours we found out that the boys and girls of the Bureau of Met. knew their stuff.
The blanketing blackness of the night skies was shredded, torn apart by sheet and forked lightning in every direction. I have never heard thunder like it. One particular bolt struck nearby with such a fizzing ferocity that the sight and sound were indistinguishable from each other. The van shuddered with the force, and even Max, who normally blithely sleeps though such displays, sat bolt upright in his bed with black eyes as wide as saucers.
And the same could be said for Liz, who is normally equally undisturbed. "What the hell was that?" rather neatly paraphrases her equally wide eyed inquiry! I had been up for some time and was so concerned that I actually braved the elements to check that the tree next to us had not been shattered......it had felt that close.
Inevitably, as this awesome display of nature's might rumbled slowly off eastwards to disturb the slumber of all on Great Keppel Island, the rain generated by this storm began to bucket down.....and did so for hours. We awoke to find ourselves sloshing around ankle deep under the awning. The loose grass clippings throughout the park were piled up in what looked like long windrows, driven into long, ridged heaps by the deluge. The park had clearly been awash.
But with the dawn came the sun and the warmth of the tropical Capricorn Coast. The air was still and the skies clear. It was as if the events of the night just passed had never happened!
At the risk of harping, we really do love Emu Park, and have placed it and the nearby small, quite isolated little fishing and holiday hamlet of Keppel Sands just to the south, firmly on our list of travelling stop-over spots now that the park here is pet friendly.
Hmmmm! Well, I did try but October will certainly be one month which comes in more than one episode. I'll keep practicing my resolution to err on the side of brevity, but........???
