Nindigully. Home to one of the oldest continuously licensed pubs in Queensland. A name synonymous with outback legends, films, fishing and frivolity and our home for one night. But what a night it was!
I had read about this iconic (not a word I like to use often) outback Queensland pub in several magazines and we agreed we had to tick it off the bucket list whilst we were in this part of the world. It also presented an opportunity to test our hand at free camping.
Our route out of Boomi took us past vast fields planted with chickpeas
and even larger cotton fields, the lint from which had now been taken off and was lying in these huge circular bales ready for transport to the local cotton gin for processing. (more on the cotton industry later)
For some distance we shared the road with cattle being driven along what is a formally recognised stock route
and some far less welcome wild life (for those who have read the tales of last year's travel you will recall my views about emus..and for those who are new to the blog, let me repeat it...emus were created to make every other living thing appear intelligent). This shot in particular gives a good idea of just how hard they can be to see at times.
We crossed the MacIntyre River into Queensland and with these occasional driving challenges and those of passing road trains on, in parts, a very narrow road, behind us, we finally reached the entrance to the Nindigully pub.
I decided that the welcoming entrance signs really did set the scene, a view that was not altered as a result of our stay.
And of course, on the way out, what else would you expect?
As our bovine encounter en route demonstrated, this area is crisscrossed with formal stock droving routes as can be seen here on this specific sign post erected next to the pub entrance sign (where else?).
I have to admit to a moment of concern as we made our way further along the pub entrance roadway. Surely this is not what we have travelled so far to see!
A closer look revealed a directional arrow on the pub sign...and relief was just around the corner. We had arrived at what I had expected to find.
The entrance road held one other surprise for us and provided yet another example of life's coincidences. At our last happy hour in Boomi with Rhonda and John, the subject of conversation had turned to music and the various concerts we had attended over the years. This then led to the discovery that Hugh Jackman, that consummately skilled and versatile Australian actor, and one of the Vogt's daughters, have mutual friends. This led in turn to a discussion of his rise to thespian fame following his arrival on the film scene in the Australian production 'Paperback Hero', a movie the Vogt's had not seen.
Well, as they only say in Oz, "bugger me!" Look what greeted us as we turned onto the huge pub car park area only the next day...........How could one possibly ever become bored with, or complacent about, life on the road?
Having recovered from our state of delighted incredulity it was down to the serious business of choosing a camp site for the night. And, at Nindigully, this is serious business indeed as you will late discover.
For us, once again the value of chatting to fellow travellers came to the fore. By sheer chance, a day or so previously, we had shared the spa pool in Boomi with a charming old couple, and, as always happens, the conversation centred on our travels. When I mentioned our upcoming destination, our newly acquired friend was forceful in his advice to avoid the seductive visual delights of the camp sites along the banks of the Moonie River if there was any prospect of rain. What sage advice, on the basis of which, and, knowing the forecast, I chose a spot which was on firm ground and well covered with dry grass.
The fact that it was also a mere thirty metres to the pub was totally incidental!
The pub, which was established in 1864 on the banks of the Moonie River some 45 kms south-east of St George, was used as a Cobb and Co Coach changeover station from the late 1800's to the early 1900's. It is now the base for all sorts of activities including fishing trips, 4WD adventure gatherings, pig racing and a famous (notorious?) B&S Ball. It is also the home of the 'Road Train', but more of that shortly.
The Nindigully pub just has to be seen to be believed. And it works. The main bar is utterly cluttered with every possible type of memorabilia, knickknack and oddity imaginable, as
can be seen here looking in from the entrance door, and
from the other end of the bar towards the dining room entrance, a room of equal, but somewhat more restrained character.
This fascinating interior (one could easily spend two to three hours taking in all there is on offer, including a raft of relevant newspaper clippings which would not be out of place in a library) is complemented by one of the most functional and appealing beer gardens I have ever seen (and I have seen a few) which includes a huge lawn, a stage (far centre) and large dining area (to the left of the shot) the mandatory rotisserie drum (obvious) and, of course,
the pool table.
The back bar of the pub provides the service point for all those enjoying themselves in this wonderful outdoor setting. The obviously male toilet nearby maintains the quirky theme of the pub with its interior sign over the urinal "Express lane...five beers of less" (too dark to photograph!)
But more of the pub later. What of the surroundings? As I mentioned previously, the pub is nestled on the banks of the Moonie River, a watercourse of varying flows as is common in this part of Australia. A stone weir, built just downstream of the pub, has ensured that there has been a good water supply for those in need, even during the dry years (of which this is one).
In the background of this photo can be seen the old wooden bridge which was used for many years to cross the Moonie at this point, but which is now in a state of considerable decay.
One of the reasons so many visit this area, apart from the obvious, is the ability to free camp anywhere along the river bank. A cement walkway is a recent addition to the surrounds. This was built in part to allow ease of access along the river, but also as a means of preventing parking right on the river's edge, something which was resulting in increasing degradation of the area.
This sensible restriction still allows for a plethora of individual camp sites amongst the trees (this area was home to over a dozen vans etc. later this day)
and some still right on the river bank itself.
In addition to catering to wanderers of all descriptions, the pub is a destination for many of those who use the nearby Barwon Highway on a daily basis, including whilst we were there, the drivers of these road trains, who ate their lunch at the bar alongside a group of European backpackers all of whom were served by the charming Anu, a Finnish traveller taking work for the season.
Food, or more precisely, the 'Road Train', was one of the main reasons for our visit. The moment of truth was upon us. Could we rise to the challenge?
Aperitifs on the 'very heritage' verandah (apologies to the late Max Fatchen and to those who are not familiar with the works of this master Adelaide wordsmith) seemed like a good start. Mind you, at the happy hour price of $2.50 per pot, numerous beers were substituted for the more recognised aperitifs such as Rosso Antico or Campari and soda.
And as can be seen, one dresses for dinner at Nindigully......anyway one chooses! For one foolish senior's moment I did consider appearing at the table in my full Commissioned Officer's Mess dress uniform (on the road with us to be worn at our UN reunion dinners), but I decided that this may well be a touch too much for both Nindigully and Gary Burns, the SAPOL Commissioner, notwithstanding that we have know each other for forty years!
This photo of verandah conviviality appears somewhat dark, for the very good reason which can be seen in the top right corner of the shot. The storm clouds were gathering.
Our happy hour did extend to almost two. The 'Road Train' cannot be ordered before 1730 hours and takes over an hour to prepare. But by the time it arrived we were at table and more than primed for action.
Just as well.
This is a monster meal in every sense. For the statistically minded gastronomes amongst you, the meat patty alone weighs in at a lusty 5.5 kilogrammes. And it comes with all the trimmings. Like all good Aussie burgers, the salad included beetroot, and amid all this
excess, the accompanying fried onion rings (in addition to the chips) were of the most delicate size, texture and taste I have ever come across.
These giants of the burger world are advertised as able to feed four. Four what? A quarter share is a serious challenge. Concentration and a real sense of purpose was required, even for those of us with appetites. But we did our best, and with the surprise help of Liz (not the greatest fan of burgers) we very nearly acquired bragging rights on our own.
If we accept that Bobby can be included as one of the feasting party, we collectively did manage to demolish all but some of the bun and a smattering of chips.
I retired for the night with the phrase 'phyrric victory' ringing in my ears. But what an experience. My enquiries revealed that the pub usually serves one or two a day of this unique meal, which at a total price of $60.00, actually represents quite good value.
As we waddled back to our vans, the already leaking sky began to drop water in earnest. I, for one, was delighted. Apart from the pleasure of lying in bed, cosy and sated whilst the world outside descended into a muddy pond, I knew that my dreadful and annoying aversion to dust (of which there was plenty in Nindigully) would not be a problem in the morning.
It rained all night, at times heavily. We arose to a new world and offered heartfelt thanks for the advice we had received at Boomi.
Our site, whilst drenched, remained firm underfoot, and, more importantly, presented only a minor departure challenge.
Not so for others, who had been seduced by its charms and had camped overnight by the river. Mother Nature has a real habit of making us mere mortals pay for her bounty. This was one such occasion.
We had been awoken by the sound of almost constant, high revving 4WD motors and it did not take long to discover why.
At least half a dozen campers owe their departure to the valiant, and consummately skillful, efforts of this 4WD knight of the road who hauled them out with his trusty red Nissan Patrol.
No still photo can accurately capture the scene of mayhem in the mud as towing and towed alike slithered and struggled up this small exit incline, mud spitting venomously from all madly spinning wheels. There has barely been an occasion on which I have felt so enormously smug knowing just how easy our exit would be! For all his efforts this towing paragon would accept no recompense. We suspected he was actually having the time of his life!
The end result of all this rig removal on the exit track is clear to see, and yet, almost paradoxically,
amid all this chaos in the clay, like butterflies in a drenched paddock, there appeared briefly in front of the pub two of the most brightly painted Harleys I have ever seen.
What an extraordinary place, and what an adventure. And how did the ship's cat react to all these goings on? As only a smart cat would.........
It was with a real sense of achievement, on varying fronts, that we left Nindigully for the short, 45 kms haul to St George where our initially planned two nights has now morphed into four. Liz and I have both developed nasty throat and chest infections respectively (annoyingly, an annual event for me). We have decided that a spell before we make our way north through Roma, Emerald, Charters Towers, Townsville and Innisfail to Lake Tinaroo (some 1,600 kms) over the next week or so would be a very good idea.
A closer look revealed a directional arrow on the pub sign...and relief was just around the corner. We had arrived at what I had expected to find.
The entrance road held one other surprise for us and provided yet another example of life's coincidences. At our last happy hour in Boomi with Rhonda and John, the subject of conversation had turned to music and the various concerts we had attended over the years. This then led to the discovery that Hugh Jackman, that consummately skilled and versatile Australian actor, and one of the Vogt's daughters, have mutual friends. This led in turn to a discussion of his rise to thespian fame following his arrival on the film scene in the Australian production 'Paperback Hero', a movie the Vogt's had not seen.
Well, as they only say in Oz, "bugger me!" Look what greeted us as we turned onto the huge pub car park area only the next day...........How could one possibly ever become bored with, or complacent about, life on the road?
Having recovered from our state of delighted incredulity it was down to the serious business of choosing a camp site for the night. And, at Nindigully, this is serious business indeed as you will late discover.
The fact that it was also a mere thirty metres to the pub was totally incidental!
The pub, which was established in 1864 on the banks of the Moonie River some 45 kms south-east of St George, was used as a Cobb and Co Coach changeover station from the late 1800's to the early 1900's. It is now the base for all sorts of activities including fishing trips, 4WD adventure gatherings, pig racing and a famous (notorious?) B&S Ball. It is also the home of the 'Road Train', but more of that shortly.
The Nindigully pub just has to be seen to be believed. And it works. The main bar is utterly cluttered with every possible type of memorabilia, knickknack and oddity imaginable, as
from the other end of the bar towards the dining room entrance, a room of equal, but somewhat more restrained character.
the pool table.
The back bar of the pub provides the service point for all those enjoying themselves in this wonderful outdoor setting. The obviously male toilet nearby maintains the quirky theme of the pub with its interior sign over the urinal "Express lane...five beers of less" (too dark to photograph!)
But more of the pub later. What of the surroundings? As I mentioned previously, the pub is nestled on the banks of the Moonie River, a watercourse of varying flows as is common in this part of Australia. A stone weir, built just downstream of the pub, has ensured that there has been a good water supply for those in need, even during the dry years (of which this is one).
In the background of this photo can be seen the old wooden bridge which was used for many years to cross the Moonie at this point, but which is now in a state of considerable decay.
One of the reasons so many visit this area, apart from the obvious, is the ability to free camp anywhere along the river bank. A cement walkway is a recent addition to the surrounds. This was built in part to allow ease of access along the river, but also as a means of preventing parking right on the river's edge, something which was resulting in increasing degradation of the area.
This sensible restriction still allows for a plethora of individual camp sites amongst the trees (this area was home to over a dozen vans etc. later this day)
and some still right on the river bank itself.
In addition to catering to wanderers of all descriptions, the pub is a destination for many of those who use the nearby Barwon Highway on a daily basis, including whilst we were there, the drivers of these road trains, who ate their lunch at the bar alongside a group of European backpackers all of whom were served by the charming Anu, a Finnish traveller taking work for the season.
Food, or more precisely, the 'Road Train', was one of the main reasons for our visit. The moment of truth was upon us. Could we rise to the challenge?
Aperitifs on the 'very heritage' verandah (apologies to the late Max Fatchen and to those who are not familiar with the works of this master Adelaide wordsmith) seemed like a good start. Mind you, at the happy hour price of $2.50 per pot, numerous beers were substituted for the more recognised aperitifs such as Rosso Antico or Campari and soda.
And as can be seen, one dresses for dinner at Nindigully......anyway one chooses! For one foolish senior's moment I did consider appearing at the table in my full Commissioned Officer's Mess dress uniform (on the road with us to be worn at our UN reunion dinners), but I decided that this may well be a touch too much for both Nindigully and Gary Burns, the SAPOL Commissioner, notwithstanding that we have know each other for forty years!
This photo of verandah conviviality appears somewhat dark, for the very good reason which can be seen in the top right corner of the shot. The storm clouds were gathering.
Our happy hour did extend to almost two. The 'Road Train' cannot be ordered before 1730 hours and takes over an hour to prepare. But by the time it arrived we were at table and more than primed for action.
Just as well.
This is a monster meal in every sense. For the statistically minded gastronomes amongst you, the meat patty alone weighs in at a lusty 5.5 kilogrammes. And it comes with all the trimmings. Like all good Aussie burgers, the salad included beetroot, and amid all this
excess, the accompanying fried onion rings (in addition to the chips) were of the most delicate size, texture and taste I have ever come across.
These giants of the burger world are advertised as able to feed four. Four what? A quarter share is a serious challenge. Concentration and a real sense of purpose was required, even for those of us with appetites. But we did our best, and with the surprise help of Liz (not the greatest fan of burgers) we very nearly acquired bragging rights on our own.
If we accept that Bobby can be included as one of the feasting party, we collectively did manage to demolish all but some of the bun and a smattering of chips.
I retired for the night with the phrase 'phyrric victory' ringing in my ears. But what an experience. My enquiries revealed that the pub usually serves one or two a day of this unique meal, which at a total price of $60.00, actually represents quite good value.
As we waddled back to our vans, the already leaking sky began to drop water in earnest. I, for one, was delighted. Apart from the pleasure of lying in bed, cosy and sated whilst the world outside descended into a muddy pond, I knew that my dreadful and annoying aversion to dust (of which there was plenty in Nindigully) would not be a problem in the morning.
It rained all night, at times heavily. We arose to a new world and offered heartfelt thanks for the advice we had received at Boomi.
Our site, whilst drenched, remained firm underfoot, and, more importantly, presented only a minor departure challenge.
Not so for others, who had been seduced by its charms and had camped overnight by the river. Mother Nature has a real habit of making us mere mortals pay for her bounty. This was one such occasion.
We had been awoken by the sound of almost constant, high revving 4WD motors and it did not take long to discover why.
At least half a dozen campers owe their departure to the valiant, and consummately skillful, efforts of this 4WD knight of the road who hauled them out with his trusty red Nissan Patrol.
No still photo can accurately capture the scene of mayhem in the mud as towing and towed alike slithered and struggled up this small exit incline, mud spitting venomously from all madly spinning wheels. There has barely been an occasion on which I have felt so enormously smug knowing just how easy our exit would be! For all his efforts this towing paragon would accept no recompense. We suspected he was actually having the time of his life!
The end result of all this rig removal on the exit track is clear to see, and yet, almost paradoxically,
amid all this chaos in the clay, like butterflies in a drenched paddock, there appeared briefly in front of the pub two of the most brightly painted Harleys I have ever seen.
What an extraordinary place, and what an adventure. And how did the ship's cat react to all these goings on? As only a smart cat would.........
It was with a real sense of achievement, on varying fronts, that we left Nindigully for the short, 45 kms haul to St George where our initially planned two nights has now morphed into four. Liz and I have both developed nasty throat and chest infections respectively (annoyingly, an annual event for me). We have decided that a spell before we make our way north through Roma, Emerald, Charters Towers, Townsville and Innisfail to Lake Tinaroo (some 1,600 kms) over the next week or so would be a very good idea.
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