After our long haul into Nyngan, our next leg north was to be just over half that...220 kms, but we were not too sure about the roads. There is only one way to find out, get up and get going.
Today we were to travel on three major highways, the Mitchell, the Oxley and the Castlereagh, all old friends, well sections of them at least. It was the Mitchell first, south-east through the grazing plains outside Nyngan
and across yet another Shire boundary. From previous trips many years ago I retained a memory of the town of Warren which included many trees and green open spaces, a pretty town, one in which I had never stayed but been tempted to. I was looking forward to discovering if indeed age does weary them!
But first we had to complete the almost straight leg of 60 kms along the Mitchell to another of those quaintly named Australian towns.......'Nevertire', most aptly described in something I read as a typical 'Australian one pub railway town'.
But the name? This country hamlet lies on the edge of the great saltbush plain which extends to the west from about here all the way out into the desert country. It was said that this just went on and on and 'never tired', hence the name. I have been unable to positively verify this yarn, but it makes sense and is good enough for me in the absence of better information.
One thing which cannot be challenged is the fact that Nevertire also lies on the junction of the Mitchell and Oxley Highways, so here we bade farewell to the Mitchell
and turned through almost 90 degrees to now travel the short hop north-east to Warren and thence almost easterly on to Gilgandra.
Here we left the grazing plains for cotton country once again. Huge fields either side of the highway were snowy white with cotton lint lying in the gentle clutches of the open bowls of the rows and rows of cotton plants, all awaiting a savage and final separation from their supporting stalks into the voracious maws of the cotton harvesters.
And now for the moment of truth......would the reality of Warren pass my memory's muster?
Well,so far so good....lines of large trees into town is a very good start.
And here we had the beginnings of a number of park areas of which we did see plenty as we
made out way through the centre of the town in the glare of the early morning sun and out the other side. Unfortunately the camera focus was playing up at this point, and although the navigator snapped away with grim determination, none of the results are worthy of public exhibition. But was Warren as I had remembered? Mostly...sufficiently so that I confidently decided I was not yet ready for an aged care home!
With that comforting thought we continued to bash our way along the Oxley in the direction of distant Gilgandra. I use the word 'bash' advisedly. This section of the highway leaves a lot to be desired, something which was particularly disappointing in light of the fact that we had decided Warren would make a lovely spot for a stay of a few nights at some future stage. Sadly, getting there from either direction is not currently a pleasant drive.
East of Warren the road brought us yet again back into grazing and cropping country, where the scenery is virtually unchanging mile after mile.
We had been told of this section of roadworks by a fellow traveller in Nyngan, the result of a comment I had made about the state of his rig. To our great relief, the water truck had not dropped its load recently and we were able to reach the other end of this quite long unsealed section without gathering any muddy scars.
It was with real relief that we finally drove into the back end of Gilgandra where the enforced speed limits and much improved road surface brightened our moods considerably and diminished thoughts of chipped plates and broken glasses, not that we have ever suffered such damage....when it comes to packing our cupboards....Liz is a whiz!
Whilst we both accept that the standard of major Australian roads will and do vary enormously, it is never fun to be jiving and jolting over a rough and ready surface (or are we just getting older?). We are adding to our list of 'no-go unless unavoidable' every trip!
We have almost reached the stage of feeling a little sorry for the good and hard working business folk of Gilgandra. We have now driven through this town probably half a dozen times over the years, and for one reason or another have never stopped to spread a meagre portion of financial largess amongst those offering traveller services here.
And from all we have seen it is a well found spot.....one of these days Gilgandra! But not today as we cruised down towards the main street
and made a left turn out onto the Castlereagh Highway, avoiding the surprisingly busy CBD (it was Easter Saturday after all). Gulargambone was now firmly fixed in our sights and to our great joy, the surface of the Castlereagh on exit from Gilgandra trumped the entry on the Oxley in spades.
At this point I feel it incumbent on me to explain why on earth we had chosen to spend some time in this oddly named little town on one of the country's lesser known and used highways, and moreover, why we had decided to add a day to our stay here at the expense of Nyngan.
Well, dear readers, it was a punt! For many years now we have been regaled by tales of Gulargambone, well, more to point, have heard accolades heaped on the town caravan park. The place is renowned for the quality of its sites, the friendliness of its owners, the daily happy hour nibbles provided and the sensational camp oven roast dinners available to all and sundry every Sunday and Wednesday for the princely sum of $10.
Some of you with memories of the steel trap variety will recall that we had tried to spend time here when making our way south back to Adelaide last September, but had been stymied by the floods.
Some of you with memories of the steel trap variety will recall that we had tried to spend time here when making our way south back to Adelaide last September, but had been stymied by the floods.
Well, there was no such impediment this time, and we were about to find out if all we had been told was true or merely a travellers' tale. We had been more than encouraged by the fulsome reception I had received when ringing to advance our booking by a day, but we were yet to actually arrive.
We had the first hint of things to come but a few kilometres from the town, when we spied a galvanised iron galah on a post in a paddock by the roadside. We are not often caught completely unawares, but this one did us both.....the camera shutter did not move....and again, when two flashed by.
But we are nothing if not quick learners (well relatively quick at least) and from here on in our eyes were peeled. And then there were three. Gotcha!
With these winged iron harbingers in our mirrors we were soon at the outskirts of town.
With these winged iron harbingers in our mirrors we were soon at the outskirts of town.
By this stage, noting the galah on the town welcome sign, we began to wonder if the local luminaries were playing on words or whether there may be some deeper connection between these noisy cockatoos and the district. Something for later!
We did continue to ponder this on the final run into the main section of the town,
but returned focus on the job in hand as we negotiated the small town park, where the main highway passes to the right and a short service road forms the left hand boundary.
We did continue to ponder this on the final run into the main section of the town,
but returned focus on the job in hand as we negotiated the small town park, where the main highway passes to the right and a short service road forms the left hand boundary.
A left hand turn at the end of this saw us in what we discovered was the main commercial street, one of very modest proportions indeed,
which led to another left turn at the Post Office corner, with its impressive array of solar panels.
Surely we must almost be there. Ah, there it is. The sign we had been seeking soon appeared before us.
By now we had become just a tad apprehensive. Although it was the second day of the Easter break, and we did not expect to find milling crowds and a bustle of activity, what we had seen of the town so far was almost eerily quiet. Could the caravan park really be the place of fun and games we had been led to believe it is?
One last turn and we were about to find out.
A closer look at the park entrance sign provided some immediate relief. Vacancies, well we knew that......confirmation that our site fee of a modest $25 was accurate, even better.......a welcome for the Ship's Cat and advertising for the $10 roast dinner.....all correct so far.
And best of all, we were about to take up residence in a park with a six galah rating! Now what could be better that that? We were beginning to chuckle already.
As we pulled up at the office to be greeted by mine host David (his equally ebullient wife Bernadette and he were born to run a caravan park), any niggling concerns we may have held evaporated in the warmth of our welcome and the ensuing chat which found us standing in the office for a good five minutes before we were invited to pick what ever site we liked.
We felt like old friends already (and as it transpired we did have a mutual mate, now a resident of Coffin Bay just outside Port Lincoln).
Options, options. Whilst being given free choice has its advantages, we have often commented that this places the pressure firmly on us if we later discover that we could have done better.....at least if we have to go where we are directed, we can shift the blame if we are subsequently less than entirely happy!
Here the alternatives were threefold.....a back up site amongst others with some shade and close proximity to the amenities and the camp kitchen (although here nothing is too far away), a large, open drive-thru in the second row, or a site on the far side of the camp where we would have the world to ourselves. With the pros and cons of each bearing heavily, we finally opted for the site which offered some shade.
So, from the office it was off past the lovely little camp garden
some fifty metres or so to our new home for the next few days.
And we could not have been happier. Level, lush grass, afternoon shade, great neighbours, functional amenities and one of the most interesting camp kitchens we have ever come across. This was all looking very promising.
With a lovely rear outlook across the boundary fence gardens to the lawns of the local (very good) swimming pool
we could not have been more settled.
And there was much more to come. We soon discovered that this park's reputation is well deserved.
As we pulled up at the office to be greeted by mine host David (his equally ebullient wife Bernadette and he were born to run a caravan park), any niggling concerns we may have held evaporated in the warmth of our welcome and the ensuing chat which found us standing in the office for a good five minutes before we were invited to pick what ever site we liked.
We felt like old friends already (and as it transpired we did have a mutual mate, now a resident of Coffin Bay just outside Port Lincoln).
Options, options. Whilst being given free choice has its advantages, we have often commented that this places the pressure firmly on us if we later discover that we could have done better.....at least if we have to go where we are directed, we can shift the blame if we are subsequently less than entirely happy!
Here the alternatives were threefold.....a back up site amongst others with some shade and close proximity to the amenities and the camp kitchen (although here nothing is too far away), a large, open drive-thru in the second row, or a site on the far side of the camp where we would have the world to ourselves. With the pros and cons of each bearing heavily, we finally opted for the site which offered some shade.
So, from the office it was off past the lovely little camp garden
some fifty metres or so to our new home for the next few days.
And we could not have been happier. Level, lush grass, afternoon shade, great neighbours, functional amenities and one of the most interesting camp kitchens we have ever come across. This was all looking very promising.
With a lovely rear outlook across the boundary fence gardens to the lawns of the local (very good) swimming pool
we could not have been more settled.
And there was much more to come. We soon discovered that this park's reputation is well deserved.
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