For the past week we had been watching the rise and fall of a critical central Queensland waterways, well, critical to our plans at least.
And there was plenty to consider. The icons on this map of the relevant area of Queensland are all points at which the road network is either impassable or can only be negotiated with extreme caution (which generally means one has to be the size of a road train!)
Navigating our way through all this information had proved challenging, but by the time we had reached Tambo we had mastered the art and had found a couple of complementary sites which provided added detail.
We already knew that Charleville had been cut off completely in both directions (again we rejoiced in the fact we had not chosen the route which would have meant we had to enter and leave that town!). What we now had under active consideration was the state of what would normally be considered a quite minor waterway, the Burenda Creek.
This stream, which hardly shows up on the normal road maps, can be seen here crossing the highway south of Augathella right at the 'A2' icon. For the past few days this had been the point at which the highway had been impassable, but there had been some suggestion late on Sunday (or at least the word was going round the pub) that the water had receded enough to allow traffic to pass.
Our erstwhile party animal mates had decided to take the punt....they headed out first thing on Monday morning with the promise to ring us if things became grim. Initially I had decided to stay put for another day, but nevertheless I rang the Augathella Police to seek further advice. The most obliging Sergeant who took my call told me that the road was indeed open at the moment but that the rain forecast within the next 24 hours would undoubtedly see it closed again, for an indeterminate period.
That was more than enough to spur yours truly into instant action (albeit somewhat sluggish). "Lizzie, we're off, now. We should be able to get through to Mitchell today."
Because we knew that any change to the situation could see the Augathella Caravan Park inundated with stranded caravaners, we took the precaution of making an overnight booking, as well as that we also made in Mitchell. I think it's called 'hedging one's bets'!
Liz saw to all of that and the inside pack-up whilst I scurried about pulling everything down, something I normally do the night before a departure.
It's amazing what impetus an emergency can create. The thought of being stranded in Tambo for any number of days (despite the fact we really did like the place) lent power to my somewhat slack bow. We had begun to drift off the schedule of our return....further delays would potentially see us having to travel a number of exceptionally long days.....not our preferred option by any means.
If a rapid pack-up ever becomes an Olympic event, the Marshies are a shoe-in to be standing on the podium. The only downside to all this alacrity was the nagging thought that we had overlooked some crucial step in our departure preparations, like a forgotten van handbrake, or a still raised TV aerial, for example. Needless to say our pre-take off checks were carried out more than usually thoroughly, and I can report that all was well. Practice does indeed make perfect!
The road to Augathella soon beckoned. This was the first leg of what we hoped would be the 300 kms trip to Mitchell.
On south through the open plains we pushed. Never before had we left a park so late. It was odd to be on the road on the approach to mid-day at the beginning of the day's travel...by now we are normally heaving to.
We soon had the first reminder of why we were on the move. Fortunately the shimmer on the highway ahead of us was nothing more than a very shallow remnant of what would have been quite a watery challenge two days ago.
Within the first hour we crossed another milestone in our journey south out of Queensland. It had actually become very important to know just where we were at any one time in relation to the Queensland area descriptions for the simple reason that all forecasts refer to them, just as they do everywhere.
The countryside was becoming more timbered as we approached Augathella but the delights or otherwise of highway scenery were not really uppermost in our minds at this stage.
This is what we had been waiting to see. Open to Morven...you bloody beauty....that meant that the Burenda Creek crossing was also open. Thank heavens we were not desperate to go to Charleville!
Within minutes we had by passed Augathella, which sits off the main highway,
and were on the approach to our potential highway nemesis.
Making our way across the first section of the low bridge/culvert which allows for the creek crossing, it became all too obvious that a mere smidge of extra rainfall would indeed see this road blocked again.
And then, as we neared the main crossing, our collective hearts sank. A stop sign.....surely not. For once we prayed that what we were approaching were roadworks!
Indeed they were. The flagman here soon became our instant number one best friend when he turned his sign to the 'slow' side. Roadworks it was, repairs to the surface which had been washed away by the previous flood.
As we cautiously crawled on over the crossing, the full extent of what we may have faced became apparent.
Not only was the Burenda Creek spread out well over its normal banks, it was still but a few centimetres below the road level and flowing strongly. Now we could see just what the Augathella Sergeant had meant...it would take very little to see this again become a closed crossing.....as indeed it did the following day.....for three days!
"Well Lizzie, we've made it. A 300 kms day was the last thing I wanted today, but needs must." "Serves you right", was the muttered reply!
Apart from the remaining distance, from now on the road ahead was plain sailing as we made our way on towards Morven.
The topography had now begun to change. The flat plains country was now intersected by ridges of hills which had to be crossed
before once again we descended onto the flat ground with its seeming endless horizons.
Just shy of the little town of Morven, the Landsborough Highway comes to an end. For the next leg of today's journey we were be traversing the dreaded Warrego, ostensibly the worst major highway in Queensland (well that was our firm recollection).
The Warrego Highway starts at Charleville and runs east from there through Mitchell, Roma, Dalby and on to Brisbane. We had previously travelled the section east of Roma, and our memories were of a day of unbelievable dips and bumps, a wretchedly corrugated bitumen surface and speeds often reduced to 60 kph. We had not been looking forward to reaching this junction.
But, to our great relief, as we made our way into Morven for a break and a toasted sandwich, we discovered that this end of the Warrego is a far tamer beast. It appears that the reasons given for the state of its eastern section (the major and constant movements in the black soil over which it runs) may have some foundation other than a local Queensland Government excuse for poor road maintenance.
In any event, we plodded on rejoicing, past another positive road open sign
and on towards Mitchell, now blessedly less than 100 kms distant. By now I was seriously weary. At this point we felt confident enough for Liz to ring the Augathella park and cancel our booking.
Beyond Morven we hit some serious roadside timber
before once again dropping onto more open flat country,
where yet again we had the pleasure of passing vast carpets of yellow wildflowers.
Rarely have I been so pleased to see the main street of a town. Mitchell at last! We had made it though. From here the only potential sticking point between us and our next destination, St George, was at Surat, on the highway south out of Roma...but that will be a problem for another day.
For now it was down through Mitchell's main street and across the Maranoa River road bridge at the far end
where our current travails took on some perspective.....fancy making this trip in 2012!
Just beyond the bridge we came upon a sight we had both clearly remembered from our previous visit here back way back in 2010....the flags which line the boundary of the Major Mitchell Caravan Park.
A right turn onto the park approach road
and another which took us through the park entrance gates, and we had arrived.
Rarely have I been so pleased to see the welcoming roadways of a caravan park.
Normally the sign 'Live Worms' and the obvious prospect of a tasty fish or two would have immediately aroused my interest. Not today!
As we drove on the blessedly sealed roadway (we were seriously over mud) past some of the park cabins,
past one of the many en-suite sites to be found here
and on to our drive-thru site at the highway end of the park, all I could think about was a shower, a feed and bed.
But my day of unplanned action was not yet over. Whilst I was more than grateful to be able to just pull onto our site without any fuss, I then discovered that it was sloped to such an extent that to level the van I had to drop the A frame until it was almost touching the ground. This had only happened to us once before, in Denham at WA's Shark Bay.
So what's the big deal, I hear you snort. Well dear readers, this means that I had to excavate holes in the most unforgiving dolomite and clay mixture of our patch to enable the front stabilising legs to drop down far enough to achieve an angle sufficient to be effective. I was not really in the mood for some vigorous exercise, believe me, but again, need must.
Finally we were set. Gloomy skies put paid to the need for the awning. Given that I would have had the devil of a job pegging it down on this surface, I was unusually relaxed....if it rained again (and it did) we would just have to make sure everything was stowed away (and it was).
And then we discovered that our perniciously persistent previous party pals were also here. "Come and join us for a drink when you have set up", was the cry. "Sorry folks, I'm buggered. Tea and an early night is all that's on my agenda....see you tomorrow!"
And indeed we did, by then with renewed vigour, but that and a tour around Mitchell is a tale for the next instalment.
