A GREAT PARK AND A GOOD PARTY - 'CONDO' (2 - 4 SEPTEMBER 2017)

And so it came to pass that we did indeed move from the banks of one well know Australian river to those of another. The River View Caravan Park in Condobolin (the third 'o' is silent....I am forever trying to misspell the name of this town) is well named as you will soon see.

On arrival we skirted around the central section of the town and found our way to the Lachlan River bridge crossing, 

beyond which an avenue of brutally pruned pepper corn trees, with the town oval in the background,

soon brought us to the the sign we had been seeking 

and the long entrance roadway into the caravan park.

We had already discovered that this park is not only home to grey nomads, knights of the road and other assorted travellers, it also hosts an annual dog show, to which those aspiring to elevate their pampered pooches to the level of Australian Champion (and thereafter charge a motza for any progeny) flock in significant numbers. And I mean significant numbers....the park actually advertises on its website that during this period, which lasts for a couple of weeks, any aspiring transient will be very lucky to find a resting place.

We have long since learnt the value of good pre-planning intelligence and had timed our arrival to coincide with the completion of this canine caper, although there were still one or two late leavers in situ, including our immediate neighbour as it turned out.

The entrance road to the park is well landscaped (the photos I am presenting here have obviously been taken at different times...bear with it) 

and along a large section of its northern side, the well grassed area is fenced off into various showing compounds. The fact that these are permanent fixtures gives some idea of the degree to which this dog show features on the annual park activities agenda.

We toddled on past the dog arena to the office at the end of the entrance road where our most obliging hostess told us that things were now very quiet and to pick whatever site we would like.

We did just that, settling eventually on a drive-thru site which was not directly under any of the many large gums which are a feature of this park.

Once this decision had been taken, it was off down the sealed roadway, past the ablution block and the nearby camp kitchen on one side,

and the park BBQ shed on the other, to our chosen slot not too distant from one of the few remaining 'dog couples' (who proved to be a mine of information....sought after or not!)

With a wall of trees to one side, and the facilities of the camp kitchen and the heads clearly close by, we were set. Gusting winds had been forecast for the period of our stay which is why I was keen to be clear of overhanging eucalyptus branches (notorious for falling unexpectedly on the unwary) and our awning was left securely stowed.

Once settled, a tour of our new home in the later afternoon sunlight was in order. As I mentioned earlier, this is a park of open spaces, large trees, generally good grass, and at the time of our stay, very few neighbours. 

All the park roadways are sealed and kerbed, something we always appreciate in that this means even the odd inescapable park hoon cannot douse us with dust.

As you saw earlier, the well found camp ablutions were within a few short metres from our site as was the extraordinary camp kitchen with its nearby outside fire pit. I'll come back to this shortly.

Just beyond the kitchen building, the dog showing areas provided lovely open vistas to the main road beyond.

The roadway on the other side of the park took us to the banks of the Lachlan River which formed the boundary on this side of the park.

Here the muddy waters of the river were flowing peacefully between us and the grassed back yards of the home owners opposite

and as we wandered along past the park camping areas towards its far end,

it soon became obvious that the river was home to more than just those of us who chose to camp nearby. The geese of this gregarious gaggle were our constant companions throughout our stay.

And these were not the only feathered or furry friends to be found at the River View. One of the staff is the proud owner of a beautiful bird, so tame it will pose like this until it decides it is time to re-assume its normal position on the boss's shoulder.

I initially mistook this for an Australian Electus parrot, but not so dear friends. I was soon politely and somewhat proudly corrected. Let me introduce you to my first sighting of an Alexandrine parrot, a normal inhabitant of the Indian sub-continent. Of course, I should have know that.....what else would you expect to find in the heart of New South Wales?  



And then there was the other park pet, this one unmistakably Australian and equally tame. This roo had been rescued from the scene of a vehicle accident as a joey and now lives the life of Reilly in the care of Alley, the other park manager.

But back to our park tour. At the opposite end of the park to our patch, rows of cabins provide accommodation for those not towing their homes behind them

but even in this area there is no sense of crowding, with the large trees, which are a feature of this park, continuing to dominate the landscape.

Seasonal workers arrive in Condobolin at various times of the year (that would make them seasonal I guess), and this park caters well for their accommodation needs with these banks of single dongas, all well protected from sun and rain by their huge overhead roofs.

But no matter what else is to be found here at the River View park, it is the camp kitchen which stands out. "What's this?", we thought as we first poked our noses through the portals. The pool table did not present a real surprise, but the same could not be said for the discovery of a  permanently set up stage area, complete with microphone and sound system. We were soon to learn what this was all about.

The other end of the CK was what we would have normally expected to find, communal fridges, microwave oven, cook tops and so on.










And the facilities here also included a good BBQ plate, of which I took full advantage on our first night in.  Good old 'bangers and mash'......a staple of life for those on the road!






On this particular evening we had the place virtually to ourselves. As I said earlier, the park was all but empty, but on the following day a group of six arrived in three vans, and on our return from a gallop around the town we heard the unmistakable sound of country music blasting out from party central.....and it sounded pretty damn good.


This demanded an urgent investigation. What we discovered was that Darcy Gage, the joint park manager with his partner Alley, is a man of significant talent. He has performed at various country music festivals throughout the country, has produced a number of CD's and was more than happy to hone his skills in the camp kitchen of the River View Caravan Park, Condobolin.  Needless to say, we settled in immediately,







to soon be joined by just about all others who were currently in residence.










This immediately became the party which kept giving. One of the recent arrivals was no slouch himself when it came to plucking a guitar string or two and belting out a tune. It was on!










Mine host had heard me wailing away in the background to the various renditions and before I knew it I had been dragged to my feet for a solo or two. The electronic backing system was so good that it was like singing with a serious band.







And herself was not to be outdone!  It could well be said that this rendition was testament to the fact that this was a seriously laid back evening. Actually Lizzie has a very good voice....it just normally needs significant pre-performance lubrication!







I later joined her for a rousing rendition of Khe Sanh which would have made Jimmy proud. We bashed on here in varying combinations of voice and instrument for nearly two hours before our ever gracious hosts provided us with a camp sausage sizzle as a reward for participation (a carefully chosen word!)




What an evening this had been. We may have been small in numbers but we 'party punched' well above our collective weight. We shall remember Condobolin for several things, but none more than party night at the River View!  

FROM THE BANKS OF ONE RIVER TO ANOTHER - GILGANDRA TO CONDOBOLIN (2 SEPTEMBER 2107)

From the banks of the Castlereagh to the Lachlan.....Gilgandra to Condobolin, a moderate run of some 260 kilometres into the heart of New South Wales. 

As usual we were up and at it early, but as we pulled into the huge truck stop just north of the town for some much needed fuel, it was clear we were not alone on the highway.

I am sure I have previously noted as we have driven through here that this has to be one of the busiest refuelling spots for heavy vehicles we have come across in all our travels. This morning was no exception.

There were trucks of every description rafted up all over the place, and believe it or not we have seen it even busier!

Fortunately most of those guiding these transport titans were well tucked up inside the roadhouse, slurping coffee or hoeing into a large and well deserved breakfast. 

This meant we had no problems at the bowser and were soon on our way charging south in the pale sunlight of a very chilly morning as our external temperature reading clearly showed. We were still really struggling with the cold but resigned to the fact that we had better get used to it....there was much more to come.

So with our internal climate control pumping most welcome warm air into the Cruiser's cabin we headed back past our park to the first of the highway junctions for the day. Here it was a left hand turn for the Mobile Marshies as we set off down the Newell Highway in the general direction of Dubbo.

The southern outskirts of Gilgandra were soon in our mirrors as we continued along the Newell for but a short distance.

Rather than travel down the familiar route through Dubbo, Peake Hill and Parkes before turning west to Condobolin, we had decided to take a secondary road which would give us the opportunity to visit Narromine, a new town on our travelling horizon.

So, a mere 27 kms south out of Gilgandra found us turning our head to the south-west off the Newell at the Eumungerie junction,

where a surprisingly good road led us through open grazing paddocks

some of which were decidedly greener than others.

The low, dry, brown grasses of the open plains were occasionally broken by a flash of landscape yellow.......the tell tale colour of a ripening canola crop, 

but a closer look at these showed them to be stunted and struggling, evidence of a poor winter rainfall which we were to see for the remainder of the day and indeed throughout Central New South Wales.

All that we were seeing confirmed the tale told us by a woman in Gilgandra, a farmer's wife who also worked in one of the town stores. When I was commenting about the season and the parlous state of the crops, she told us that they had just given up any thought of reaping their crops this year and had turned out their cattle onto them to get some return for their efforts.....yet another example of the ongoing lottery of life on the land!

Fifty five kilometres from the turn-off brought us to the approaches into Narromine,

a town famous for a cricketer as much as anything else. Of course you knew.....this is the home town (he was actually born in Dubbo, but grew up here) of 'The Pidgeon', the Australian medium-fast bowler Glenn McGrath, that lanky bowling metronome whose nagging line and length drove opposition batsmen to an early demise at the crease more often than not. He also caught one of the most spectacular outfield catches we have ever seen right under out noses at the Adelaide Oval some years ago. We like Glenn!

And, as we drove into Narromine, past the stone fruit packing factory,

through its garden intersections 

and along its blossom lined main street

to our next turning point, we decided that we very much liked what we had seen of his home town too. Another spot for the 'return and tarry list'.

The gardens of Narromine central soon gave way to the grain silos which lined the road we were to take to for the next 90 kms to the town of Tullamore.

This stretch was decidedly more 'country secondary' where long expanses of roadside bush

suddenly gave way to lush pastures














open grazing paddocks














and yet more stunted fields of canola. There was no doubt we were indeed in the heart of NSW agricultural enterprise.

And then Tullamore was upon us, or we were upon Tullamore, which ever way you wish to look at it.

Apart from its name, the town welcome sign displayed an unmistakable Irish connection. 

As we slowed to traverse the one and only main street of this small town,

took a passing look at the quite large local pub

and the modest town shopping centre

before heaving to for a rest break beside the town park, I was wondering about the more than obvious Irish bit.

The answer was not immediately apparent, but a later visit to my old friend 'Google'  provided the solution, and I quote:

"The area now known as Tullamore was first called Bullock Creek in 1870 and then Gobondery in 1895. George Tully, who came from Tullamore in Ireland, built a hotel and called it Tullies Exchange Hotel and pressed the point that the town be named Tullamore. He succeeded and the town has been called Tullamore ever since."

So there you have it, another of those little mysteries of the Australian bush solved. As we understand it the locals have continued to embrace this quirk of history with gusto and a fine Irish music festival is held annually over the Easter holiday period.

I had to chuckle when reading the promotional blurb on the town's excellent website which noted that "the annual Tullamore Irish Music Festival celebrates the entire range of all things Irish - that is, the Irish, the near-Irish, the stereotypically Irish and the not-really Irish." Now you just can't ask for more than that!  I suspect a Tullamore Easter would be a real hoot....another list item!

But an Irish Easter is a long way off. Not so the tiny ex-mining town of Fifield, where the old country pub is one of only a handful of remaining buildings









and the road out of town was as tired as its surrounds. 












And here we had another change of country with stands of yellow wattle providing a bright contrast to the background scrub.












As we entered another stretch of rolling hills.











on the final leg into Condobolin, the surrounding countryside was again blanketed with green cereal crops, but like all else we had seen today, none of it was flourishing.










And then, joy oh joy, roadworks, well no bitumen at least. Fortunately this dusty challenge did not extend for too far











and we soon came to our last highway junction for the day, the entrance onto the Henry Parkes Way and the last few kilometres 









into Condobolin where the very impressive town sign leaves visitors in no doubt that this is a rural area.







Condobolin, on the banks of the Lachlan River is known as the town in the absolute centre of New South Wales, or as close to it as one can reasonably get. And having arrived, we were off to find our park which we had read was right on the banks of the river. Indeed it was, and what a party place this turned out to be, but more of that and the town in my next.