Rollingstone to Forrest Beach....just under 80 kilometres.....now that's the sort of travelling day I like! And this short hop further north up the coast was to be a day of caravan park 'chalk and cheese'. Both are absolute beachfront, but we were soon to discover that one could not be more different to the other in all ways possible.
Forrest Beach, some 17 kilometres east of Ingham, had been on our park radar for many years. We first heard about it when we had put Max in a cat boarding house just out of Townsville four years ago. The proprietor of this august establishment (it was actually the Black Panther's favourite...he didn't want to leave) took her annual holidays at this seaside locale and highly recommended it. Further to that, good travelling friends had stayed there last year and were most complimentary.
So we left Rollingstone with a real sense of anticipation, made our way back along Hencamp Road to 'The Bruce', and within no time ran into another of the seemingly never ending stretches of roadworks on this highway, this time just south of Ingham. And this was serious stuff, a new bridge over a notorious patch of low lying ground which floods at the drop of a hat, or should that be at the drop of something else!
And speaking of 'hats', Ingham is, for us, of the 'old' variety. Although we have yet to stay there for any time, we have driven through it so many times now that the rather challenging sets of traffic lights and series of turns to negotiate the main street through the town presented no problems for us.
As I mentioned at the outset, Forest Beach is on the coast almost directly east of Ingham. Interestingly it doesn't appear on the charts as such, rather as the town of Allingham. This is apparently one of those oddities of surveying and town naming which pop up from time to time and about which little has been done officially.
But we knew where we were going, so off we went, past a few idle and empty cane train bins which did surprise us given the fact that the cane was high, in flower, and obviously ready for the cut.
Soon all was revealed. The smoke and steam stacks of the huge Victoria sugar mill, situated a few kilometres east of Ingham, were not pumping great gouts of mist and smoke into the atmosphere. The mill was still in the 'workup' phase of the season and yet to be ready to receive the cut cane for processing.
As we drove further out through the cane fields, it was obvious to us that this had been a bumper season. The crops were as high and as full as we had ever seen in this part of the world.
But we had not come here to ogle at sugar cane or admire the season. We had other things on our minds as we slid past the town welcome sign into Forrest Beach and along the main street into this pretty little seaside village.
Just past the town 'CBD',
we spotted the sign directing us to the caravan park. We dutifully followed the arrow and turned right past the town's medical clinic
to travel south along Wattle Street
as far as the next blue and white sign, this pointing to a left turn into Pine Street
beyond which is was another right turn, this time into Acacia Street.
By now I suspect you may have gathered that all these street names have something in common.....tree species. In fact we were soon to learn that most of the town's streets are so named and could not help wondering if some wit of a local authority had done so as a play on the town's name (which actually has nothing to do with things arboreal and is spelt with two 'r's' because it stems from a bloke's name....one George Brownrigg Forrest, the much revered manager of the Victoria Mill between 1896 and 1913).
A short jaunt past the high, green trees which line both sides of Acacia Street
soon brought us to the Forrest Beach Hotel and Caravan park sign and our last turn for this morning.
The local pub stands at the entrance to the caravan park and is an integral part of it as you shall soon see. Those who manage the hotel are also responsible for taking the park bookings and generally looking after the place on behalf of the absentee Melbourne based owner.
Because of this, and the fact that we had lobbed here just after 1000 hours, the sign directing new arrivals to the bottle shop was irrelevant. It was not yet open! Rather than barge in unannounced, I did call the hotel number and was told that yes, site 41 was ours, go right on in and pop down after 1100 hours to square away our fees.
No sooner said than done. Off we went out of the pub car park and onto the quite narrow park entrance roadway,
past the motel units which are part of the hotel complex
and on down to our site which was less than 100 metres from the entrance.
Getting on was a bit tricky, but to the surprise of our neighbours both next to us and across the road, both of whom later expressed their admiration, we did so at our first try (much to our relief....we knew we were being watched closely and there is such a thing as 'parking pride'!)
With the thick tropical forest standing tall over the empty sites across the road from us,
and 'clear air' to our rear, we were more than content with our immediate surroundings
and the space we had to lounge about in the afternoon sun...well one of us at least!
By now I suspect you have already noted just how different this park is from that at Rollingstone. A quick tour will make this even more evident. Beyond our site the park roadway
led to the amenities block, which I have to say was less than initially inspiring.....somewhat tired and in desperate need of a coat of paint inside, but relatively functional.
There is little doubt that the state of the heads is a sad reflection on the fact that the owner of this park is apparently happy to sit back and rake in the site fees without ploughing any of the acquired income back into improvements in the park. We have seen this before and consider it to be a very short sighted policy. Even those who have been regular and loyal guests will eventually move elsewhere for their winter break and as profits drop the state of disrepair becomes a major hurdle when the owner wants to quit the game and sell the park. Karma?
So with that short editorial comment on park ownership let's move on. Beyond the ablution block a 'circuit' road
leads past several camp sites (with the sea enticingly sparkling in the near distance)
So with that short editorial comment on park ownership let's move on. Beyond the ablution block a 'circuit' road
leads past several camp sites (with the sea enticingly sparkling in the near distance)
and a group of slab sites dotted amongst the huge fan palms and other assorted tropical trees.
The golden sands of the Forrest Beach shore are but a hop, step and jump from the park....a quick toddle across the slight rise and we were there (more shortly).
Behind the slabs and 'formal' sites of the park, a large expanse of open grassland extends to the pub at the far end. This was home to one happy camper whilst we were in residence, but we were told that this can become quite hectic as the place fills with those who are happy to set up in an unpowered area.
This shot shows the 'independent' camper on the right, whilst those on the left had side are actually powered sites (just behind ours). The beach lies just beyond the slight rise in the land at the far right of this photo, and the grey roof of the hotel can be seen in the mid shot distance.
And here is the view from the front of the pub looking back to the group of vans which included ours. It was not far to walk to grasp a cold frothy over the bar at happy hour!
Beach access was also available from the roadway adjacent to the hotel building
and what a fine beach this is as we can see here looking north from just in front of the park.
The sands of Forrest Beach are similarly soft and inviting in the other direction and they stretch for a considerable distance south from here to the mouth of Cassady Creek some five kilometres distant.
One of our immediate neighbours, who arrived later on the day we did, headed off the following morning to fish the creek. Needless to say I was more than curious about his success when he returned at noon. "Only ten today", was his response to my enthusiastic enquiry. And then he showed me what he meant....ten magnificent 35 cm plus yellow fin whiting, caught on the incoming tide with nippers pumped from the creek bank at low tide. "Only ten" I gaped. "What's a good day?" The reply that twice this number is not uncommon had the whiting fisherman in me drooling. If for no other reason, Forrest Beach immediately went firmly onto our 'MacArthur list'!
Looking directly out from the beach the horizon is filled with the grey lumps which are the masses of Palm and Orpheus Islands (with a few other smaller islets dotted amongst the group).
One factor which always makes a park stay much more enjoyable is pleasant and friendly neighbours. Here at Forrest Beach we were fortunate to have just that. One couple even carried a small brazier which was duly fuelled and lit each afternoon (these independent fires are a bit of a feature in this park we noted), a wonderful 'scene setter' for happy hour irrespective of the need for warmth or not
We soon discovered that our last day here at Forrest Beach (we were only here for three...this was very much a recce!) coincided with one of our immediate neighbour's 83rd birthday. Nothing like a good reason for a celebration....plans were soon hatched!
Although Liz and I had repaired to the pub for one happy hour (reduced price beers between 1600 - 1800 hours daily) we had not eaten there. Reports to hand indicated that the food was good. We were about to find out.
Now at this point I have to say that the somewhat shabby condition of the caravan park does not extend to the pub. It is a ripper, and set up to take full advantage of its position.
The main bar and dining area is complemented by this covered verandah area (with blinds to protect patrons from overly brisk blasts from the sea).
On balmy evenings a number of outdoor table settings allow those so inclined to take their ease on the grass and make the most of the views across to the islands.
We chose the indoor alternative, and duly gathered at the appointed hour for a pre-dinner aperitif or two
before moving off to our table in a cosy corner of the dining area well removed from throng which had now assembled at the tables in the main dining section of the pub.
Thursday evening at the Forrest Beach pub is ''ten dollar night'. Whilst the full normal menu is available, on Thursdays the princely sum of $10 will buy either a steak or a chicken schnitzel with salad and chips, of course. And they flock in, campers and locals alike. We had been forewarned and had wisely booked well in advance to secure our private nook.
To be frank, at this ridiculously cheap price, I fully expected to have to open a can of baked beans or some other filler once we had returned to our van, but, dear readers, how utterly wrong I was.
I could not fault the meal for size and quality. A large, tender steak, cooked exactly as ordered (which really surprised me....there were at least eighty patrons all clamouring to be fed), a 'sensible' salad (no yuppie leaves and nothing else here) and very good chips. Liz's chicken was of equally good.
And then we sprang the surprise. Completely unbeknown to Adele, the birthday girl, our other neighbour Marie had sourced a birthday cake which we had spirited down to the pub fridge earlier in the afternoon, whilst Liz had arranged a card. "Happy birthday, Del"!
This charming lady was quite overwhelmed. "You have only known me for three days and have gone to all this trouble". No trouble at all....this is what the caravan lifestyle is all about. Adele later commented that this had been one of the best birthday celebrations she had enjoyed.....we were more than pleased.
Needless to say our departure the following morning was tinged with real regret. Our short three days at Forrest Beach had been memorable. More partying was on our immediate agenda, but before we move on to take up residence with our good friends Cate and David at Mission Beach (well, Wongaling Beach to be precise) we must take a quick look around town, the subject of my next offering.
One of our immediate neighbours, who arrived later on the day we did, headed off the following morning to fish the creek. Needless to say I was more than curious about his success when he returned at noon. "Only ten today", was his response to my enthusiastic enquiry. And then he showed me what he meant....ten magnificent 35 cm plus yellow fin whiting, caught on the incoming tide with nippers pumped from the creek bank at low tide. "Only ten" I gaped. "What's a good day?" The reply that twice this number is not uncommon had the whiting fisherman in me drooling. If for no other reason, Forrest Beach immediately went firmly onto our 'MacArthur list'!
Looking directly out from the beach the horizon is filled with the grey lumps which are the masses of Palm and Orpheus Islands (with a few other smaller islets dotted amongst the group).
One factor which always makes a park stay much more enjoyable is pleasant and friendly neighbours. Here at Forrest Beach we were fortunate to have just that. One couple even carried a small brazier which was duly fuelled and lit each afternoon (these independent fires are a bit of a feature in this park we noted), a wonderful 'scene setter' for happy hour irrespective of the need for warmth or not
We soon discovered that our last day here at Forrest Beach (we were only here for three...this was very much a recce!) coincided with one of our immediate neighbour's 83rd birthday. Nothing like a good reason for a celebration....plans were soon hatched!
Although Liz and I had repaired to the pub for one happy hour (reduced price beers between 1600 - 1800 hours daily) we had not eaten there. Reports to hand indicated that the food was good. We were about to find out.
Now at this point I have to say that the somewhat shabby condition of the caravan park does not extend to the pub. It is a ripper, and set up to take full advantage of its position.
The main bar and dining area is complemented by this covered verandah area (with blinds to protect patrons from overly brisk blasts from the sea).
On balmy evenings a number of outdoor table settings allow those so inclined to take their ease on the grass and make the most of the views across to the islands.
We chose the indoor alternative, and duly gathered at the appointed hour for a pre-dinner aperitif or two
before moving off to our table in a cosy corner of the dining area well removed from throng which had now assembled at the tables in the main dining section of the pub.
Thursday evening at the Forrest Beach pub is ''ten dollar night'. Whilst the full normal menu is available, on Thursdays the princely sum of $10 will buy either a steak or a chicken schnitzel with salad and chips, of course. And they flock in, campers and locals alike. We had been forewarned and had wisely booked well in advance to secure our private nook.
To be frank, at this ridiculously cheap price, I fully expected to have to open a can of baked beans or some other filler once we had returned to our van, but, dear readers, how utterly wrong I was.
I could not fault the meal for size and quality. A large, tender steak, cooked exactly as ordered (which really surprised me....there were at least eighty patrons all clamouring to be fed), a 'sensible' salad (no yuppie leaves and nothing else here) and very good chips. Liz's chicken was of equally good.
And then we sprang the surprise. Completely unbeknown to Adele, the birthday girl, our other neighbour Marie had sourced a birthday cake which we had spirited down to the pub fridge earlier in the afternoon, whilst Liz had arranged a card. "Happy birthday, Del"!
This charming lady was quite overwhelmed. "You have only known me for three days and have gone to all this trouble". No trouble at all....this is what the caravan lifestyle is all about. Adele later commented that this had been one of the best birthday celebrations she had enjoyed.....we were more than pleased.
Needless to say our departure the following morning was tinged with real regret. Our short three days at Forrest Beach had been memorable. More partying was on our immediate agenda, but before we move on to take up residence with our good friends Cate and David at Mission Beach (well, Wongaling Beach to be precise) we must take a quick look around town, the subject of my next offering.
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