As I had rightly predicted, our morning pull-down prior to leaving Winton was less than pleasant. I had noticed on arrival that our patch of lawn was a little threadbare to say the least, and our creature comfort dictated the use of our smaller C-Gear flooring. Given the flood which had inundated our site (and most others) this matting was now a sodden, muddy mess. Yuk! But we carry large plastic bags for just such an occasion....in it went.....the dry out and clean up will be a job for later today (if the weather allows!).
The next major town on our itinerary was to be Longreach, but we had spent seven days there four years ago (regular readers may remember that is where we had to wait for parts to repair the damage caused by the emu strike just out of Charleville) so on this trip we decided to overnight in the small highway town of Ilfracombe, about 30 kms south of Longreach. Apart from anything else, there is an incredible machinery display lining the highway through the town, and the pub looked very interesting. It was time to discover more.
As we rejoined the Landsborough Highway out of Winton, we were more than relieved to read this advisory sign. After the recent heavy rain, and that which had preceded it during the previous week or so, highway flooding had now emerged as a real threat to our progress. These signs and the weather reports were now taking on a whole new importance.
Today's trip was not to be too arduous...a tad more than 200 kms over what we had (accurately) remembered as being a pretty good stretch of highway.
The skies were still sullen, but the greenery we had come this way to see continued to blanket the plains. We took our leave of the last of the distant long mesas which are the Winton 'jump-ups',
and pushed on to the south-east. The highway was delightfully devoid of other traffic and the we continued to marvel at the condition of the passing countryside.
Fog had been predicted and, about 60 kms out of Winton, the forecasters' predictions proved correct. Our progress ground to a snail's pace as we inched on through the soup. To my intense relief, it soon cleared
and we reached another milestone on trip back to Adelaide with much improved visibility.
I did mention that the highway traffic was almost non-existent. In fact the only vehicle we passed travelling in the opposite direction during our first hour or so wasn't on the road at all, it was tootling along the adjacent railway line, its road wheels held high off the sleepers by an ingenious system which allows the driver to lower a set of flanged wheels onto the track.
What a pleasure it was to be scooting along a wide, well made and maintained ribbon of black-top after our experiences of the past few days. With no sun glare, no wind to speak of and little traffic, the kilometres just seemed to dissolve peacefully and rapidly under our wheels (and our brand new tyres!) I was really enjoying this.
The 'Longreach moat', the Thomson River, was showing all the signs of the recent rain through the catchment. It was twice as wide as it had been four years ago. We had reached the outskirts of Longreach.
We were both surprised to find just how well we remembered the roundabouts on the by-pass road through the town...it was akin to a form of homecoming,
and as we passed the huge cattle truck resting bay on the outer side of town, and the nearby Qantas Founders Museum and the Stockmans Hall of Fame, it was as if time had stood still since we were last here. Nothing seemed to have changed at all.
In fact, as we continued on, we both reflected on the difference the past four years has made....Longreach was now just another built up area to traverse, a vastly altered situation from the excitement of our arrival in this landmark outback town all that time ago. Were we becoming just a touch blase and slightly world weary? Not a jot of it. There is just so much still to be seen.
As we cruised on out past the Longreach business advertising signs, we knew we had almost completed the trip for today.
With one last reminder of what may well have blocked our progress a few days previously behind us
the 'Welcome' sign of our destination was soon filling our windscreen.
The highway forms the main street of this tiny town, and we knew that the entrance to the caravan park was at its far end. What we were now beginning to wonder was, 'what state would it be in?'
It did not take long to find out.
After the customary arrival procedures at the park office
where new arrivals are informed in no uncertain terms that here they need not darken their van galleys if they do not feel the need,
we were shown to our allocated site, where, as we had expected, there was only one word to describe our surroundings.....muddy!
In fact, shortly after we had settled in on our site, the park bobcat was in action, smoothing out the deep wheel ruts our arrival had unavoidably created in the mire and dumping load after load of 'mud quenching' dolomite.
To our great relief our site included a dry and clean slab and we were soon comfortably moored. The sun finally broke through in the early afternoon, and in no time we had managed to dry, clean and repack our dripping and mud spattered flooring, dry and air the awing and restore some good order to all the other bits and pieces which had been packed wet in Winton.
One of the two sets of park ablutions were located directly behind our site. These came in the form of self-contained en-suites....our favoured facility format. After an utterly miserable 24 hours in Winton, things were definitely looking up.
The Ilfracombe Caravan Park is renowned for the entertainment provided here. Indeed many folk return annually for a number of weeks during the mid-winter season, enjoying the warmth (usually) and involving themselves in the park's famous 'Winter Olympics' when the managers organise a series of hilarious 'silly games' to keep all and sundry in varying states of disarray and amusement.
We had arrived well after the 'Closing Ceremony', but that did not mean that we were not entertained right royally. Here at Ilfracombe, the park 'Happy Hour Shed' is the focal point of all sorts of daily nonsense, beginning at 1730 hours.
The next major town on our itinerary was to be Longreach, but we had spent seven days there four years ago (regular readers may remember that is where we had to wait for parts to repair the damage caused by the emu strike just out of Charleville) so on this trip we decided to overnight in the small highway town of Ilfracombe, about 30 kms south of Longreach. Apart from anything else, there is an incredible machinery display lining the highway through the town, and the pub looked very interesting. It was time to discover more.
As we rejoined the Landsborough Highway out of Winton, we were more than relieved to read this advisory sign. After the recent heavy rain, and that which had preceded it during the previous week or so, highway flooding had now emerged as a real threat to our progress. These signs and the weather reports were now taking on a whole new importance.
Today's trip was not to be too arduous...a tad more than 200 kms over what we had (accurately) remembered as being a pretty good stretch of highway.
The skies were still sullen, but the greenery we had come this way to see continued to blanket the plains. We took our leave of the last of the distant long mesas which are the Winton 'jump-ups',
and pushed on to the south-east. The highway was delightfully devoid of other traffic and the we continued to marvel at the condition of the passing countryside.
Fog had been predicted and, about 60 kms out of Winton, the forecasters' predictions proved correct. Our progress ground to a snail's pace as we inched on through the soup. To my intense relief, it soon cleared
and we reached another milestone on trip back to Adelaide with much improved visibility.
I did mention that the highway traffic was almost non-existent. In fact the only vehicle we passed travelling in the opposite direction during our first hour or so wasn't on the road at all, it was tootling along the adjacent railway line, its road wheels held high off the sleepers by an ingenious system which allows the driver to lower a set of flanged wheels onto the track.
What a pleasure it was to be scooting along a wide, well made and maintained ribbon of black-top after our experiences of the past few days. With no sun glare, no wind to speak of and little traffic, the kilometres just seemed to dissolve peacefully and rapidly under our wheels (and our brand new tyres!) I was really enjoying this.
The 'Longreach moat', the Thomson River, was showing all the signs of the recent rain through the catchment. It was twice as wide as it had been four years ago. We had reached the outskirts of Longreach.
We were both surprised to find just how well we remembered the roundabouts on the by-pass road through the town...it was akin to a form of homecoming,
and as we passed the huge cattle truck resting bay on the outer side of town, and the nearby Qantas Founders Museum and the Stockmans Hall of Fame, it was as if time had stood still since we were last here. Nothing seemed to have changed at all.
In fact, as we continued on, we both reflected on the difference the past four years has made....Longreach was now just another built up area to traverse, a vastly altered situation from the excitement of our arrival in this landmark outback town all that time ago. Were we becoming just a touch blase and slightly world weary? Not a jot of it. There is just so much still to be seen.
As we cruised on out past the Longreach business advertising signs, we knew we had almost completed the trip for today.
With one last reminder of what may well have blocked our progress a few days previously behind us
the 'Welcome' sign of our destination was soon filling our windscreen.
The highway forms the main street of this tiny town, and we knew that the entrance to the caravan park was at its far end. What we were now beginning to wonder was, 'what state would it be in?'
It did not take long to find out.
After the customary arrival procedures at the park office
where new arrivals are informed in no uncertain terms that here they need not darken their van galleys if they do not feel the need,
we were shown to our allocated site, where, as we had expected, there was only one word to describe our surroundings.....muddy!
In fact, shortly after we had settled in on our site, the park bobcat was in action, smoothing out the deep wheel ruts our arrival had unavoidably created in the mire and dumping load after load of 'mud quenching' dolomite.
To our great relief our site included a dry and clean slab and we were soon comfortably moored. The sun finally broke through in the early afternoon, and in no time we had managed to dry, clean and repack our dripping and mud spattered flooring, dry and air the awing and restore some good order to all the other bits and pieces which had been packed wet in Winton.
One of the two sets of park ablutions were located directly behind our site. These came in the form of self-contained en-suites....our favoured facility format. After an utterly miserable 24 hours in Winton, things were definitely looking up.
The Ilfracombe Caravan Park is renowned for the entertainment provided here. Indeed many folk return annually for a number of weeks during the mid-winter season, enjoying the warmth (usually) and involving themselves in the park's famous 'Winter Olympics' when the managers organise a series of hilarious 'silly games' to keep all and sundry in varying states of disarray and amusement.
We had arrived well after the 'Closing Ceremony', but that did not mean that we were not entertained right royally. Here at Ilfracombe, the park 'Happy Hour Shed' is the focal point of all sorts of daily nonsense, beginning at 1730 hours.
The tables are all set for dinner, and here's how it all works. Those wising to avail themselves of the meals on offer (and I have to say they did look magnificent) are invited to place their orders during the day and to nominate the time at which they would like to eat. These are duly delivered as requested. But irrespective of a meal order or not, all park residents are invited to congregate in The Shed for drinks and chat.
But there is more to it than that. At about 1800 hours, Jesse Hitson, who, apart from being the local builder, owns and runs the park with his good wife Cathryn, came to the front of house. Over the course of almost an hour he gave us all a deal of information about the park and the town and then launched into a routine of tales and jokes which had us in stitches. This is one naturally very funny man.
And he played to an almost packed house.
Liz and I had the added pleasure of catching up with with the folk we had met two nights ago in Winton.
This turned out to be one of the best park happy hours we had experienced and certainly lived up to the reputation the park enjoys amongst the caravaning community. Next time we'll also order a meal!
But before we sat down to this evening entertainment, we had made it our business to get out and about. For such a relatively small place, Ilfracombe punches well above its tourist weight.
Let's begin with a wander along Main Avenue. Sharing a common boundary with the caravan park is the Wellshot Hotel.
This is a building with a history. I'll let the plaques tell the story. Isn't it good to see that the initial residents of Ilfracombe had their priorities right....pub first all else second!
This is a building with a history. I'll let the plaques tell the story. Isn't it good to see that the initial residents of Ilfracombe had their priorities right....pub first all else second!
As we wandered the street of the Ilfracombe of today we did find it hard to image this tiny town sporting five hotels, but there is a reason for this,
as is comprehensively explained in an article which appeared in the Sydney Morning Herald on 8 February 2004, from which I have quoted here directly.
"Looking at the tiny settlement of Ilfracombe, with its one hotel
and rather isolated Folk Museum, it is hard to imagine that, in the
1890s, the town had three hotels each with its own dance hall, a
soft drink maker, a coach builder, two general stores, a billiard
saloon, a dressmaker, three commission agents, a couple of
butchers, a baker and a saddler. The story of western Queensland is
contained in these changes. Once transportation became efficient
the number of people living in the outback declined. What took a
month in the 1890s can now take only a few hours.
Today there are just 350 people living in a shire which covers
an area of 6500 sq. km. The old stations where anything up to 100
people were employed are now a thing of the past. Back in1892
Wellshot Station (60 km south of town) was the largest sheep
station in the world, in terms of the number of sheep it ran: 460
000. Indeed, so predominant was it that Ilfracombe was, until 1890,
known as Wellshot.
To the north of the town Beaconsfield Station is a reminder of the enterprise and ingenuity which accompanied the development of the area. A small section of the property has been listed by the National Trust because in the 1890s the property devised a sheep wash which consisted of a trench which was filled with water from a dam built across Brutus Creek. The sheep were washed in this trench by a combination of steam and scrubbing. The washed sheep were then transported towards the shearing shed by means of trolleys which were driven by steam power. The trolleys travelled along rails. Although it is nothing but ruins now it is an important reminder that in the 1890s Australia was at the forefront of wool technology.
Another record claimed by the shire is that of the largest mob of sheep ever moved as a single flock. In 1886 43 000 sheep were moved through the area by a droving team of 27 horsemen - and that doesn't include the cooks, blacksmiths and hands which would have been needed to accompany the drovers. The era of the large wagon hauls was ended by the arrival of the railway in 1891, making Ilfracombe a railhead for the transportation of regional livestock to urban markets.
The changing of the times is apparent in another historical landmark associated with the town, when, in 1910, it became part of the first motorised postal service in Australia, from Ilfracombe to Isisford.
Located just 27 km east of Longreach, on the Matilda Highway, and 214 m above sea level, Ilfracombe currently has a town population of 190. The huge properties which once dominated the area have been broken up into smaller units. Despite the changes of the last century Ilfracombe still survives as a service centre to the surrounding sheep and cattle stations. It possesses such facilities as a swimming pool, a 14-hole golf course, tennis, rugby league, and clay target clubs, a recreation centre, a racecourse, an hotel, a store, a post office, a school and a caravan park. It is of some interest that Fred Schepisi, the director of Evil Angels and The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith, now owns land in the shire.
In 1988 Peter Forrest was commissioned to write a history of the shire. The result 'A Rush for Grass' is much more than a local history. It provides an insight into the forces which shaped the development of western Queensland in the latter half of the nineteenth century. Ilfracombe is a microcosm of those forces."
So, there you have it, a tiny town with a large past. All this history makes for thirsty work. It's time to actually see what the pub has to offer on the inside. Plenty! The outdoor tables and chairs on the front verandah are pretty standard, but that all changed once we crossed the threshold.
where ever one looks.
To the north of the town Beaconsfield Station is a reminder of the enterprise and ingenuity which accompanied the development of the area. A small section of the property has been listed by the National Trust because in the 1890s the property devised a sheep wash which consisted of a trench which was filled with water from a dam built across Brutus Creek. The sheep were washed in this trench by a combination of steam and scrubbing. The washed sheep were then transported towards the shearing shed by means of trolleys which were driven by steam power. The trolleys travelled along rails. Although it is nothing but ruins now it is an important reminder that in the 1890s Australia was at the forefront of wool technology.
Another record claimed by the shire is that of the largest mob of sheep ever moved as a single flock. In 1886 43 000 sheep were moved through the area by a droving team of 27 horsemen - and that doesn't include the cooks, blacksmiths and hands which would have been needed to accompany the drovers. The era of the large wagon hauls was ended by the arrival of the railway in 1891, making Ilfracombe a railhead for the transportation of regional livestock to urban markets.
The changing of the times is apparent in another historical landmark associated with the town, when, in 1910, it became part of the first motorised postal service in Australia, from Ilfracombe to Isisford.
Located just 27 km east of Longreach, on the Matilda Highway, and 214 m above sea level, Ilfracombe currently has a town population of 190. The huge properties which once dominated the area have been broken up into smaller units. Despite the changes of the last century Ilfracombe still survives as a service centre to the surrounding sheep and cattle stations. It possesses such facilities as a swimming pool, a 14-hole golf course, tennis, rugby league, and clay target clubs, a recreation centre, a racecourse, an hotel, a store, a post office, a school and a caravan park. It is of some interest that Fred Schepisi, the director of Evil Angels and The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith, now owns land in the shire.
In 1988 Peter Forrest was commissioned to write a history of the shire. The result 'A Rush for Grass' is much more than a local history. It provides an insight into the forces which shaped the development of western Queensland in the latter half of the nineteenth century. Ilfracombe is a microcosm of those forces."
Now this is an outback country pub! The walls of the bar are cluttered with memorabilia and nonsense.
Amongst the hats we spotted two which had previously shaded a couple of very well know Australian faces.
This is one of those bars where irreverence and a wonderful sense of humour are the order of the day (note number 7)
where ever one looks.
Even the bar clock ensures that there is no doubt that here it is not just 'five o'clock somewhere'...here at the Wellshot it is always time to crack one.
I've had to apply strict editorial rigour to the photos I took in the bar here, but can't leave this part of the pub without sharing my favourite with you.....this oil soaked penguin reminded me of how drowned and miserable we had been in Winton....what a marvellous depiction of utter dejection!
In the adjacent dining section of the pub the wall photos take on a more serious bent, most devoted to presenting scenes associated with the history of the area.
The rear beer garden becomes the frequent venue for bush poetry readings during the height of the tourist season
and number of rooms off this back porch cater for those wanting a bed for the night. This is indeed the consummate country pub.
As we enjoyed a couple of cold ones in the Wellshot Hotel before repairing back to camp for the 'Jesse Hitson show', we were again reminded of the recent rains and their upshot.
One of our fellow drinkers, a most amiable chap and a veritable mine of local information which he was more than happy to share, had come in for a beer or two from a nearby sheep station. Nothing odd about that I hear you say, and indeed that would normally be the case.
But today, the entrance road into the property was still so wet and muddy that vehicular movement along it was completely out of the question. This clearly determined and thirsty soul was not going to let that small obstacle get between him and his afternoon tipple. Undeterred, he had walked the three kilometres from the homestead to the main road where he cadged a lift into town with a mate.
After all this effort he had only one other impediment to overcome before he could slake his undoubtedly heightened thirst....borrow $100 from the publican. We had to admire his honesty as he admitted to not only 'mine host' but all and sundry at the bar that when he reached for his wallet he realised he had grabbed his mobile phone instead. The poor fellow was clearly stressed!
The local Post Office
and the Ilfracombe general store/cafe both occupy places on the same side of 'Main Avenue' (really the Landsborough Highway). We had no need to make a purchase here, but from what we could see peering in,
this appeared to be a well found store indeed.
Next on our short ramble along Main Avenue we come to the pretty little garden of the town's Memorial Park,
where, as we so often find in small country towns such as this,
a great deal of effort and expense has been devoted to providing a fitting memorial to those who have served.
Here we also found something which we have noted as a feature of memorials in many places in the Eastern states....a pine tree (purportedly) tracing its origins back to the Lone Pine of Gallipoli.
There is no doubt that the good burghers of Ilfracombe, which continues to rely heavily on the surrounding sheep industry for its raison d'etre, have identified the benefits of the tourist trade as something which will continue to provide a boost to the local economy. In conjunction with the quite adequate local swimming pool, the hot, mineral laden waters of this artesian spa invite visitors to tarry a little longer and soak away the aches and pains of a hard day on the road.
Apart from all else which Ilfracombe has to offer the curious traveller, the standout is undoubtedly the display of machinery which lines the side of Main Avenue opposite the cluster of business buildings, for almost the entire length of the town. This is a real drawcard, and I would love even a small coin of the realm for everyone we watched stop, wander, admire and then pop over to the cafe or into the pub before moving on.
The movers and shakers of the Ilfracombe Machinery and Heritage Museum have done an incredible job in acquiring and assembling the most extraordinary range of mechanical monsters, a mere portion of which I'll include here. Graders, earth moving equipment,
trucks of all shapes, sizes and vintages,
cranes and farm implements, all line the main street like a military guard of honour. Whilst many of the items on display are of no real historical significance, the sheer numbers make this something quite out of the ordinary.
But here and there are some real gems such as this 1917 Ruston Kerosene tractor, one of only three remaining in the world! The forerunner of the famous Caterpillar tractors, only 433 of these were made, most of which, oddly enough, were set to Russia during WW1. This particular machine was used in the building of the Longreach to Winton railway line in 1925. Now this is really something one does not see every day!
This old steam traction engine, used to power a water pump and later a station saw bench
and its counterpart, slightly different in design but which performed similar functions, stand tall and 'llama like' at the end of what really is the only display of its kind we have come across anywhere in the country.
As I have posted in the title.....what a fascinating little town, one we are particularly pleased we chose to make a stop-over on this section of our journey south.
But behind all the fun and games and the Ilfracombe sightseeing, we had more serious business at hand. It was time to make some potentially far reaching travel decisions, and they had to be made before we left Ilfracombe....and they had to be right. More in my next.
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