I am sure that I mentioned in an earlier offering that one of the reasons we chose the KB Tourist Park for our mid trip sabbatical was their 20 metre salt water pool. Despite all the inflatable bits and pieces, very popular with anyone under ten but useless to anyone else, a laps lane can be had on the far side
And indeed we have made good use of it, some more energetically than others!
You may wonder just what we do all day whilst not actually 'on the road' so to speak. Oddly enough, the usual day to day living demands do not magically disappear merely because our home in on our backs so to speak. (we wish). I have often been surprised to find that, after blogging first thing, breakfast, a walk, hanging out the washing (never, ever let anyone tell you that a washing machine in a caravan is a luxury), preparing the evening meal (which we do as often as possible well before hand...happy hours can stretch out), and a swim, that it is well into the afternoon. We have by now developed a pretty good routine of job sharing. Even Liz takes a hand in the galley, usually the domain of your correspondent. I have learnt to ignore her protestations that she is not a good cook. Her bolognaise sauce and chicken rigatoni are more than acceptable fare.
But amongst all this domestic drudgery, true to plan, we have been continuing to sortie north and south of KB. Bingal Bay, Mission Beach and South Mission beckoned. Typical of this area of the coast, there are no direct roads between many of the beaches and bays. Most are contained within the boundaries formed by the coastal hills reaching down to the shore (the Etty Bay photo is typical). This means of course, that any trip north or south requires a preliminary drive out to the Bruce Highway from which the various beach locations can then be accessed. From the Bruce, Mount Bartle Frere, the highest peak in the North Queensland Great Divide, can often be seen brooding beneath its almost constantly clouded top. It really is an impressive sight seen like this looking across a ploughed cane field and the bordering banana plantation. How utterly typically FNQ.
Our trip to the famed Mission Beach first took us through Bingal Bay. Never let it be said that the views on offer in this part of the world have gone untapped. We can but imagine what it must be like sitting on the balcony of the house perched right on the side of this hill. (look closely for the conical white dot in mid shot - that is a house)
We have learnt that in this caravanning game, intelligence (of the 'military' kind) can save much time and angst (the other kind doesn't go astray either). The free campsite on the Bingal Bay Beach, which appeared to be a very attractive proposition in the relevant Camps Book, did carry the rider that it was not suitable for 'big rigs'. How true. We are yet to find a more poky, crowded little campsite.
Bingal Bay itself is typical of this coast. It is the infrastructure we found interesting. The local cafe, some of the houses, and the dress of many of the locals we spied when travelling through all reminded us of (a coastal) Nimbin. Need I say more? I am peeved that the laws governing personal privacy precluded me from taking a surreptitious shot of one of the best set of dreadlocks have ever seen. Given that Bingal Bay is well know for its large artist population, this is probably not surprising. By contrast, this area does host a number of fine holiday houses, and the gardens are universally wonderful.
Mission Beach. Undoubtedly the best known beach and resort area in this part of the world. In brief.......great beach which overlooks Dunk Island (which is now no longer a resort...Yasi killed the local tourist trade and Dunk did not survive)
crowded caravan parks,
fancy apartments,
Mission Beach. Undoubtedly the best known beach and resort area in this part of the world. In brief.......great beach which overlooks Dunk Island (which is now no longer a resort...Yasi killed the local tourist trade and Dunk did not survive)
crowded caravan parks,
fancy apartments,
and the obligatory cafes, surf shop and night life area on the main drag.
As you may well have guessed, this not our preferred environment! I should make it clear however that many folk do not share our point of view. In fact, one couple we met in Longreach, stay in Mission every year for three months, primarily to play golf and laze in the sun. We actually spotted their van as we drove through. And of course we fully understand that Kurrimine Beach would hold little attraction to the hoards of young international backpackers whose demands for a good time require evening frivolities which are but things in our distant past!
South Mission is somewhat less glitzy. Whilst the Esplanade does carry a fair contingent of holiday apartments, private houses and new developments in the near hinterland are far more prevalent. Of course, Dunk Island is ever present.
South Mission is somewhat less glitzy. Whilst the Esplanade does carry a fair contingent of holiday apartments, private houses and new developments in the near hinterland are far more prevalent. Of course, Dunk Island is ever present.
Between the two 'Missions' lies Wongaling Beach, yet another of the string of beaches on the 'Cassowary Coast'. Wongaling also boasts one of the two local 'big things'......what else...The Big Cassowary!
We were both of one accord.....not a patch on the real thing.
Our stay in KB has been one in which our social life has flourished. No sooner had we farewelled our friends the Vogts with whom we had spent a delightful week and a half, (and if you are really good I'll tell you where I bought the shorts...and no, Cam, I don't wear them for a bet!)
than we were joined in the park by my old mate Brian Dalby and his lovely wife Rae. Dalb was the compliance auditor with the Australian Wine and Brandy Corporation for many years, and a Glenelg SLSC acquaintance from the early to mid 60's. It was with him that I worked for a year and a half as an investigator in the early 2000's to bring to an end a serious wine fraud operation being conducted by a Riverland winery. Arduous job but great eventual result when the main offender finally went down in the Adelaide Magistrate's Court on a number of counts.
Dalb and Rae had been adventuring throughout northern Queensland and the wilds of the Gulf Country and were making their way back down the coast. We had previously been within a couple of hundred kms of each other but finally managed to catch up.
Now Dalb is a serious red wine drinker who, during my time with the AWBC, made admirably constant but ultimately futile attempts to educate my philistine palate. Knowing that there was a possibility that our paths would cross during this trip, his previous efforts did inspire me to carry with us a bottle of Clonnakilla red. I had bought this very good, expensive drop from the winery near Canberra many years ago when on one of my first visits to catch up with Stu who was then a young midshipman at the Australian Defence Force Academy. Notwithstanding the label which proclaimed that this wine would remain fine until 2015, I was of the view that my lack of cellaring care may well have rendered this claim invalid. But I had said to Liz, I am going to open this with Dalb if our paths cross....it will either be bloody good or real crap. If it is good, I know of no-one who will appreciate the fact more than he will.
Well, it was bloody good, and he did (we all did)! And it was the first of three excellent reds we shared this evening as we washed down rib eye steaks of mammoth proportions bought that afternoon from a most excellent purveyor of fine meats in nearby El Arish (more of this town later) and cooked to perfection by Dalb on his Baby Q. Even Liz, for whom red wine is usually anathema, was lavish in her praise of a 2002 Bests Cab Sav which materialised out of the extraordinarily good travelling cellar of our hosts. A memorable night indeed.
We had decided during dinner that a trip to nearby El Arish and Silkwood, lunch and a mini-pub crawl, would be just what we needed the next day. What is it about night time that so often prompts rash decisions? We did manage to achieve our goal but honesty compels me to admit that Dalb and I did spend the day pretending to be less than seriously hungover. Needless to say, as far as the sale of beer went, the two pubs in question did not profit significantly from our visit.
El Arish, like so many places in this area, has an interesting history. Established in August 1920, land allotments in the area were distributed to returned WW1 soldiers on the results of a ballot. The town is named after one on the coast of Egypt which was a strategic watering place and hospital town for the Australian Light Horse Brigade during its push into Damascus.
The entitlement each settler received included a block of about 50 acres, advice and assistance to help clear and plant his first ten acres with sugar cane, and a cash grant of six hundred and twenty five pounds to be used to build a cottage and buy plant and equipment for the initial plantings. Despite the early hardships faced by these settlers, El Arish is one of the few 'soldier settlements' which remains successful today.
I hold the view that this is all down to the fact that the town has been well served by a great pub over all these years (one of the few we have come across in Queensland which did not burn down at some stage!) Notwithstanding some cyclone damage, the El Arish pub remains what a real country pub should be.
The interior is a delightful, dark shambles of all sorts, including wonderful tables and seats, the arms and legs of which are all solid tree branches.
And, as I mentioned earlier, Dalb and I did our best to crack hearty before attacking one of the biggest hamburgers I had ever seen. (yes, you are right...we couldn't see a thing without our glasses)
Apart from its excellent watering hole, El Arish, in which all the streets are named after famous WW1 war leaders, boasts a butcher of similar excellence whose wares we had enjoyed the previous evening. He will be receiving another visit from the Marshies before we move on from KB.
On to nearby Silkwood and another fine Queensland cane country pub. And another brave attempt to enjoy an obligatory beer or two whilst being regaled in detail about the visits of cyclones Larry and Yasi by a local who wasted no time in adopting the visitors to his bar. In the 'FNQ uniform' of daggy shorts, thongs, a T shirt and a battered bush hat, all covering a lanky, gangling frame, our new found friend was the absolute epitome of the 'Aussie bush character'. Despite the odd (suspected) embellishment or two, he told a story of survival and the incredible fatalism with which the communities set about the task of rebuilding their lives and infrastructure with a drawling poignancy we could have never experienced otherwise. What a stroke of luck! It was so good to visit pubs at last in which were authentic Oz, in which the bar staff were not European backpackers with no local knowledge, and where we were rubbing shoulders with friendly local characters who were only too happy to tell their stories.
Like its El Arish counterpart, the Silkwood pub is also furnished with hand crafted tables and chairs. According to another willing informant, the local craftsman responsible has since died with the result that his handiwork is acquiring more significance. Whilst not everyone's taste, the pieces are as individual as the trees from which their component parts were sourced. I found them fascinating.
Some finds in little, out-of-the way Australian towns can be truly amazing. Silkwood, for example, boasts the smallest National Bank building in the country,
and possibly the ugliest private home we have ever seen. One can but speculate as to
mental state or the 'reacreational activities' of the architect of the 'Silkwood Castle' as it is known. Believe it or not, this photo does not do justice to the incredible oddity and genuinely grotesque nature of this edifice.
Dalb and Rae had been adventuring throughout northern Queensland and the wilds of the Gulf Country and were making their way back down the coast. We had previously been within a couple of hundred kms of each other but finally managed to catch up.
Now Dalb is a serious red wine drinker who, during my time with the AWBC, made admirably constant but ultimately futile attempts to educate my philistine palate. Knowing that there was a possibility that our paths would cross during this trip, his previous efforts did inspire me to carry with us a bottle of Clonnakilla red. I had bought this very good, expensive drop from the winery near Canberra many years ago when on one of my first visits to catch up with Stu who was then a young midshipman at the Australian Defence Force Academy. Notwithstanding the label which proclaimed that this wine would remain fine until 2015, I was of the view that my lack of cellaring care may well have rendered this claim invalid. But I had said to Liz, I am going to open this with Dalb if our paths cross....it will either be bloody good or real crap. If it is good, I know of no-one who will appreciate the fact more than he will.
Well, it was bloody good, and he did (we all did)! And it was the first of three excellent reds we shared this evening as we washed down rib eye steaks of mammoth proportions bought that afternoon from a most excellent purveyor of fine meats in nearby El Arish (more of this town later) and cooked to perfection by Dalb on his Baby Q. Even Liz, for whom red wine is usually anathema, was lavish in her praise of a 2002 Bests Cab Sav which materialised out of the extraordinarily good travelling cellar of our hosts. A memorable night indeed.
We had decided during dinner that a trip to nearby El Arish and Silkwood, lunch and a mini-pub crawl, would be just what we needed the next day. What is it about night time that so often prompts rash decisions? We did manage to achieve our goal but honesty compels me to admit that Dalb and I did spend the day pretending to be less than seriously hungover. Needless to say, as far as the sale of beer went, the two pubs in question did not profit significantly from our visit.
El Arish, like so many places in this area, has an interesting history. Established in August 1920, land allotments in the area were distributed to returned WW1 soldiers on the results of a ballot. The town is named after one on the coast of Egypt which was a strategic watering place and hospital town for the Australian Light Horse Brigade during its push into Damascus.
The entitlement each settler received included a block of about 50 acres, advice and assistance to help clear and plant his first ten acres with sugar cane, and a cash grant of six hundred and twenty five pounds to be used to build a cottage and buy plant and equipment for the initial plantings. Despite the early hardships faced by these settlers, El Arish is one of the few 'soldier settlements' which remains successful today.
I hold the view that this is all down to the fact that the town has been well served by a great pub over all these years (one of the few we have come across in Queensland which did not burn down at some stage!) Notwithstanding some cyclone damage, the El Arish pub remains what a real country pub should be.
The interior is a delightful, dark shambles of all sorts, including wonderful tables and seats, the arms and legs of which are all solid tree branches.
And, as I mentioned earlier, Dalb and I did our best to crack hearty before attacking one of the biggest hamburgers I had ever seen. (yes, you are right...we couldn't see a thing without our glasses)
Apart from its excellent watering hole, El Arish, in which all the streets are named after famous WW1 war leaders, boasts a butcher of similar excellence whose wares we had enjoyed the previous evening. He will be receiving another visit from the Marshies before we move on from KB.
On to nearby Silkwood and another fine Queensland cane country pub. And another brave attempt to enjoy an obligatory beer or two whilst being regaled in detail about the visits of cyclones Larry and Yasi by a local who wasted no time in adopting the visitors to his bar. In the 'FNQ uniform' of daggy shorts, thongs, a T shirt and a battered bush hat, all covering a lanky, gangling frame, our new found friend was the absolute epitome of the 'Aussie bush character'. Despite the odd (suspected) embellishment or two, he told a story of survival and the incredible fatalism with which the communities set about the task of rebuilding their lives and infrastructure with a drawling poignancy we could have never experienced otherwise. What a stroke of luck! It was so good to visit pubs at last in which were authentic Oz, in which the bar staff were not European backpackers with no local knowledge, and where we were rubbing shoulders with friendly local characters who were only too happy to tell their stories.Like its El Arish counterpart, the Silkwood pub is also furnished with hand crafted tables and chairs. According to another willing informant, the local craftsman responsible has since died with the result that his handiwork is acquiring more significance. Whilst not everyone's taste, the pieces are as individual as the trees from which their component parts were sourced. I found them fascinating.
Some finds in little, out-of-the way Australian towns can be truly amazing. Silkwood, for example, boasts the smallest National Bank building in the country,
and possibly the ugliest private home we have ever seen. One can but speculate as to
mental state or the 'reacreational activities' of the architect of the 'Silkwood Castle' as it is known. Believe it or not, this photo does not do justice to the incredible oddity and genuinely grotesque nature of this edifice.
But back to the real world. The cane harvest is in full swing. Cane train rail tracks are everywhere in this part of the world, bordering most cane fields, across main roads and along side roads. Despite the ubiquitous cane trains warning signs, we had, until now, yet to see one. Silkwood provided. As we were about to leave the pub a cane train obligingly rumbled its way down the line abutting the main street.
We were to learn so much more about this industry in a subsequent visit to the Tully Sugar Mill a few days later.
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