Our week at Conway Beach was up and the time had come to move on to our next overnight destination en route to Yeppoon. I have to say that we were not unduly sorry to be on our way. Although Conway Beach is a good park, and all we met there were friendly, we retained the constant feeling of being 'newbies'. This was compounded to a large extent by the fact that the weather had been less than ideal, particularly most mornings when a dense, cloying sea fog was a regular feature, and my particular frustration in seeing all those with tinnies return day after day with fish and crabs whilst the beach fishing was a complete non-event (despite the fact that I had confounded most of the locals by discovering a very convenient nearby spot on the beach for pumping nippers about which they had no idea...one for the newbies!)
Now, at this point I must ask.....how many of you thought Yeppoon is spelt with only one 'P'...come on be honest. We did until I was taking a close look at the sign on the local Surf Club...and then felt frightfully silly given the number of times we had looked at the name on the maps!
But I digress. There was no particular reason to choose Clairview as our 'overnighter' other than it was on the coast and about half way to Yeppoon, a comfortable drive of about 250 kms. But this decision was to play a part in one of those 'travellers tales' to which I alluded in my last piece.
So let us start at the beginning. During our day at Airlie Beach and beyond, we drove out along the peninsula which ends at Cape Gloucester. Here can be found the delightful beaches of Hydeaway Bay (yep, correct spelling...any SAPOL readers will undoubtedly be having a chuckle!) and Dingo Beach
where, for the first time in this part of the world we discovered that not all 'beaches' are actually narrow strips of sand ending in tidal mudflats. It was just so good to look out over a continuing sandy bottom through genuinely clear, blue water.
And even rocks are better than mud! In fact much of this area reminded us in no small way of various parts of Kangaroo Island (which I must say, irrespective of, or perhaps because of, the many thing we are seeing on our travels, remains one of my favourite places).
At the end of a dirt road which takes one to the tip of Cape Gloucester is to be found the famous 'Montes', a restaurant and bar situated right on the beach, where indeed our great friends and fellow travellers Rae and Brian Dalby (red night at Kurrimine Beach!) had celebrated Rae's birthday in significant style some weeks previously.
We were somewhat nonplussed on our arrival to find the bay jammed packed with yachts of all sizes, all dressed with pennants and signal flags, and a vacant paddock area next to the main car park equally crammed with caravans, campers and tents. As sign on the gate referred to 'SICYC guests only'. This sign was repeated in the bar area of Montes which we discovered abuzz with obvious 'yachties' in various states of dress and disrepair. A programme board and a well patronised officials' table were clear evidence of a seriously organized event. A band was preparing do do its thing on a makeshift stage and I have to tell you that I was more than a little peeved that we could not stay for the afternoon for what promised to be a significant 'knees up' in true yachtie style.
We were somewhat nonplussed on our arrival to find the bay jammed packed with yachts of all sizes, all dressed with pennants and signal flags, and a vacant paddock area next to the main car park equally crammed with caravans, campers and tents. As sign on the gate referred to 'SICYC guests only'. This sign was repeated in the bar area of Montes which we discovered abuzz with obvious 'yachties' in various states of dress and disrepair. A programme board and a well patronised officials' table were clear evidence of a seriously organized event. A band was preparing do do its thing on a makeshift stage and I have to tell you that I was more than a little peeved that we could not stay for the afternoon for what promised to be a significant 'knees up' in true yachtie style.
But we did feel a little intrusive, and so made our way back to our camp at Conway Beach wondering what on earth the 'SI' stood for in the Cruising Yacht world, and, a day or so later, still wondering, we made or way south to Clairview, where on arrival, we ran into a chap who just happened to be at the office at the same time.
A bit of chat led to a later invitation to join them around a campfire at their site a short distance from ours after dinner.
The open, rural nature of the Clairview park, which we found a refreshing change after the crowded aspect of many we had been in recently (that's us at this end), lent itself admirably to the concept of a campfire chat, and we accepted with pleasure.
And as always happens on these occasions, the conversation invariably turned to travel destinations past and planned. It was then that we were stunned to learn that our hosts, Diane and John O'Donohue, had both been part of the crowd at Montes on the day we had been there and that John is a 'Vice Commodore' of the 'Shag Island Cruising Yatch Club', the members of which had taken over Montes for the weekend.
This is an annual event, planned to coincide with the Hamilton Island Race Week. But the tale gets better. Shag Island, it turns out, is an insignificant rock at the end of the bay on which Montes sits, or at least it was. This all changed when the founding member of the SICYC, who also belonged to another CYC, attempted to exercise reciprocal rights at one of Auckland's prestigious (in their own minds only we suspect) cruising yatch clubs some years ago. He was apparently told that, for the purposes of reciprocation, the club only recognised those of Vice Commodore rank or higher. What an affront!
Well, not be outdone, this snubbed soul promptly returned home and established the 'Shag Island CYC', where, for the princely sum of $50.00, one can obtain membership for life, the rank of Vice Commodore in perpetuity and a polo shirt declaring the same. Sailing experience or the ownership of any type of boat is utterly irrelevant. John told us that on the day we visited Montes, there were some 400 SICYC 'Vice Commodores' and their families enjoying two days of festivities. Over the past few years the club has apparently grown to boast over 2,000 members world wide and I have to tell you its membership is soon to be increased by at least two!
As you can imagine, this tale really set the evening off. Apart from the extraordinary coincidences associated with the facts that we had been at Montes at the time we were and the subsequent chance meeting with the O'Donohues, the story of the genesis and activities of the Shag Island CYC appealed to my sense of humour enormously, particularly in the light of some of what I have seen and experienced at Adelaide's Cruising Yatch Club over many past years. And, as a final twist in this tale, Diane and John live in Hervey Bay. We have planned to catch up whilst we are there.
But back to Clairview. What an interesting little spot. Like places such as Black Point on Yorke Peninsula, the houses and shacks of Clairview lie along some two kilometres of so of the beachfront. Entry to each is gained from the roadway at the rear, which itself abuts the main Queensland north-south railway line. All this is a mere fifty to a hundred metres from the parallel Bruce Highway, so with the combination of numerous freight trains which rumbled through during the night and the semi-trailers of the highway, this is not the quietest of parks. But this is all pure hearsay on my part...my campfire anaesthetic had worked a treat!
The buildings of Clairview present an eclectic mix to say the least, ranging from very large and impressive homes to much smaller, but equally appealing, holiday shacks. It was obvious that fishing around the islands beyond the bay and local mud crabbing are the focus of all who come to this area. In fact Clairview Beach Caravan Park carries the promotional tag "where the mudcrabs climb the anchor rope".
One look at the waterfront at low tide does nothing to dispel this claim. But as can be seen, the Clairview beach also features rocky tidal 'forests' in addition to sand and mudflats, something we had not seen before.
The local boat ramp was also different. Apart from the large lateral channel markers located on either side (most unusual on a small, local beach ramp), I was more than amused to read the warning sign on the entrance notice relating to the tide restrictions.
One glance at the ramp at low tide brought the word 'axiomatic' to mind! In all fairness, the high tide does fill in to the point that the edge of the ramp is well under water which may render this warning necessary for the unwary newcomer.
Local enquiries confirmed my suspicions that, generally speaking, boats are launched and retrieved at high tide only, and any day's fishing is just that, a full day. But, as with most things, there are always the exceptions. My wander to the beach front early the following morning provided another snippet of Clairview life which is out of the ordinary.
As a walked out to the front, I saw a tractor and trailer making its way back across the mudflats towards the ramp, and, to my astonishment, a boat dumped on the flats some distance from the ramp. A chap in close attendance to this stranded craft was soon joined by his colleague. They then just stood and waited until the advancing tide floated them off the mud and allowed them (as I later discovered) to toddle off down the coast to check their crab pots.
Timing is of the essence. By the time their pots are done, they return on the full tide to retrieve with ease at the ramp on full water. Logical, but an impressive practical adaption to prevailing circumstances nevertheless (or so I thought!).
The Clairview Park sports a bar and dining area which can best be described as exuding a certain rustic charm, seen here on approach,
and from the beachfront. This is the village's only licensed premises, and from some of what we saw, we suspect things could get lively on occasions. We really liked Clairview!
After fond farewells to the O'Ds, and the prospect of more conviviality in Hervey Bay, we duly departed Clairview and made our way back onto 'The Bruce' and off to Yeppoon (with a double p'!).
From Clairview, the highway moves inland from the coast through a countryside which had, by now, transformed quite dramatically from the seemingly endless cane fields of the northern tropical coast to the hilly grazing lands which result from the lower rainfall (comparatively speaking) and different soil of this part of the world. Indeed I was more than a little surprised to discover that Rockhampton, through which we later passed, is know as the 'beef capital of Australia', a tag I would have otherwise associated more readily with places like Longreach or Cloncurry.
Our journey south this day took us through a number of fascinating looking small highway towns (we plan to explore this area in more detail at some stage) past the huge, seaward jutting expanse of the Shoalwater Bay Military training area peninsula and back up to the coast at Yeppoon, a town which for some completely unknown reason, I have always wanted to see. Our subsequent three night stay at the Poinciana Tourist Park did not disappoint for a number of reasons.
And as always happens on these occasions, the conversation invariably turned to travel destinations past and planned. It was then that we were stunned to learn that our hosts, Diane and John O'Donohue, had both been part of the crowd at Montes on the day we had been there and that John is a 'Vice Commodore' of the 'Shag Island Cruising Yatch Club', the members of which had taken over Montes for the weekend.
This is an annual event, planned to coincide with the Hamilton Island Race Week. But the tale gets better. Shag Island, it turns out, is an insignificant rock at the end of the bay on which Montes sits, or at least it was. This all changed when the founding member of the SICYC, who also belonged to another CYC, attempted to exercise reciprocal rights at one of Auckland's prestigious (in their own minds only we suspect) cruising yatch clubs some years ago. He was apparently told that, for the purposes of reciprocation, the club only recognised those of Vice Commodore rank or higher. What an affront!
Well, not be outdone, this snubbed soul promptly returned home and established the 'Shag Island CYC', where, for the princely sum of $50.00, one can obtain membership for life, the rank of Vice Commodore in perpetuity and a polo shirt declaring the same. Sailing experience or the ownership of any type of boat is utterly irrelevant. John told us that on the day we visited Montes, there were some 400 SICYC 'Vice Commodores' and their families enjoying two days of festivities. Over the past few years the club has apparently grown to boast over 2,000 members world wide and I have to tell you its membership is soon to be increased by at least two!
As you can imagine, this tale really set the evening off. Apart from the extraordinary coincidences associated with the facts that we had been at Montes at the time we were and the subsequent chance meeting with the O'Donohues, the story of the genesis and activities of the Shag Island CYC appealed to my sense of humour enormously, particularly in the light of some of what I have seen and experienced at Adelaide's Cruising Yatch Club over many past years. And, as a final twist in this tale, Diane and John live in Hervey Bay. We have planned to catch up whilst we are there.
But back to Clairview. What an interesting little spot. Like places such as Black Point on Yorke Peninsula, the houses and shacks of Clairview lie along some two kilometres of so of the beachfront. Entry to each is gained from the roadway at the rear, which itself abuts the main Queensland north-south railway line. All this is a mere fifty to a hundred metres from the parallel Bruce Highway, so with the combination of numerous freight trains which rumbled through during the night and the semi-trailers of the highway, this is not the quietest of parks. But this is all pure hearsay on my part...my campfire anaesthetic had worked a treat!
The buildings of Clairview present an eclectic mix to say the least, ranging from very large and impressive homes to much smaller, but equally appealing, holiday shacks. It was obvious that fishing around the islands beyond the bay and local mud crabbing are the focus of all who come to this area. In fact Clairview Beach Caravan Park carries the promotional tag "where the mudcrabs climb the anchor rope".
One look at the waterfront at low tide does nothing to dispel this claim. But as can be seen, the Clairview beach also features rocky tidal 'forests' in addition to sand and mudflats, something we had not seen before.
The local boat ramp was also different. Apart from the large lateral channel markers located on either side (most unusual on a small, local beach ramp), I was more than amused to read the warning sign on the entrance notice relating to the tide restrictions.
One glance at the ramp at low tide brought the word 'axiomatic' to mind! In all fairness, the high tide does fill in to the point that the edge of the ramp is well under water which may render this warning necessary for the unwary newcomer.
Local enquiries confirmed my suspicions that, generally speaking, boats are launched and retrieved at high tide only, and any day's fishing is just that, a full day. But, as with most things, there are always the exceptions. My wander to the beach front early the following morning provided another snippet of Clairview life which is out of the ordinary.
As a walked out to the front, I saw a tractor and trailer making its way back across the mudflats towards the ramp, and, to my astonishment, a boat dumped on the flats some distance from the ramp. A chap in close attendance to this stranded craft was soon joined by his colleague. They then just stood and waited until the advancing tide floated them off the mud and allowed them (as I later discovered) to toddle off down the coast to check their crab pots.
Timing is of the essence. By the time their pots are done, they return on the full tide to retrieve with ease at the ramp on full water. Logical, but an impressive practical adaption to prevailing circumstances nevertheless (or so I thought!).
The Clairview Park sports a bar and dining area which can best be described as exuding a certain rustic charm, seen here on approach,
and from the beachfront. This is the village's only licensed premises, and from some of what we saw, we suspect things could get lively on occasions. We really liked Clairview!
After fond farewells to the O'Ds, and the prospect of more conviviality in Hervey Bay, we duly departed Clairview and made our way back onto 'The Bruce' and off to Yeppoon (with a double p'!).
From Clairview, the highway moves inland from the coast through a countryside which had, by now, transformed quite dramatically from the seemingly endless cane fields of the northern tropical coast to the hilly grazing lands which result from the lower rainfall (comparatively speaking) and different soil of this part of the world. Indeed I was more than a little surprised to discover that Rockhampton, through which we later passed, is know as the 'beef capital of Australia', a tag I would have otherwise associated more readily with places like Longreach or Cloncurry.
Our journey south this day took us through a number of fascinating looking small highway towns (we plan to explore this area in more detail at some stage) past the huge, seaward jutting expanse of the Shoalwater Bay Military training area peninsula and back up to the coast at Yeppoon, a town which for some completely unknown reason, I have always wanted to see. Our subsequent three night stay at the Poinciana Tourist Park did not disappoint for a number of reasons.
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