Burnett Heads to Proston was to take us over old ground in highway terms at least. We skirted Bundaberg along the very handy by-pass and joined the Isis Highway which took us south through Childers and eventually to Murgon where we turned off to head west to Proston. I have presented this before in previous blogs so shall not commit the error of repetition.
This brief blog is something of a personal memoir of a few days with good friends, so let's begin with our arrival Chez Sue and Noel in the tiny town of Proston some 60 or so kilometres north-west of Kingaroy
where a previous visit in 2015 (see blog Bargara to Brisbane via Proston November 2015) left me well placed to know exactly where to pull in. The Pecks are very well organised to receive guests in vans. Fifteen amp power plugs and water connections were both at the ready.
This was but an overnight stop, and by popular acclaim we decided that tea at the Proston pub would be in order. Great plan, bad result......despite the signs which indicated that meals were available on Sunday evenings, the publican was quick to tell us that this was not the case tonight. The reason remains a mystery and as a good guest I did not pursue the matter as I may have done in other circumstances.
Well, what to do now? Time was pressing on. Another consensual decision had us motoring on to the nearby town of Hivesville in the hope that this pub would be more accommodating.
As it turned out, the failure by mine host at Proston became a blessing in disguise.
The Hivesville Hotel, which we had photographed as we drove in through this town earlier, was one I had wanted to visit when we were here previously, but it did not pan out that way. As we pulled up on this occasion, a board at the front of the pub proclaimed that Sunday night was pizza night. Why not, we agreed.
Apart from the fact that it was now almost 2000 hours, and the next alternative town of Murgon was some distance hence, the prospect of a hot pizza was a more than acceptable proposition,
so in we all trooped to the front bar. Mine Host at Hivesville was more than willing to provide us with pizza (although we did just make it with a few minutes to spare before the cook headed off for the evening)
and I took the time whilst waiting to wander through what was every bit as charming a country pub as I had hoped it would be. The bar was cluttered with appropriate odds and sods,
and here, any waiting for a meal or just enjoying a social drink can take their ease in this quaint old fashioned lounge area.
The rustic dining room was closed this evening, but this did not dent our plans.
Pizzas on a table at the front bar would be fine. And what interesting tables these were.
When we first came in I had noticed that the highly polished timber slab tops were missing corners here and there. Whether these were merely faults in the wood used, or had been crafted by design, I am unsure, but the method by which they were rectified was nothing short of ingenious.
These gaps in the otherwise solid timber tops had been filled with a clear resin material in which rural scenes had been created using small model animals and other bits and pieces. We had never seen anything like it....anywhere.
And yes, the pizzas were good, too!
So, after a very pleasant evening and a good catch up with folk we first met in Charleville in 2012, we were on the move again first thing the following morning. Toowoomba was now in our sights. For the majority of this trip we travelled south along the Bunya Highway through Kingaroy and on to Dalby.
We did make one stop en route, apart from refuelling in Kingaroy. Our Proston friends had long sung the praises of the meat available from this old fashioned butcher, Lenihan's, in the small highway town of Kumbia about 50 kms south of Kingaroy. My information was that this chap sources most of his meat from Tasmania, and that the lamb chops are of particular excellence.
Well, they were certainly right about this being an old fashioned enterprise. After I placed my order for short loin chops with the beanie wearing butcher (he was in and out of his cold room constantly), he disappeared into said room, emerged with a whole lamb and spent the next five minutes or so dismembering the little beast with his bandsaw, chatting away throughout. By the time I emerged with my wonderful looking parcel of plump chops, I knew all the latest Kumbia gossip and half his life story. What a hoot. Postscript....the chops were the best I have ever eaten!
After this short sojourn in yesteryear, we tackled the hilly and winding highway through the Bunya Mountains, revisited the tiny township of Bell where we had found that incredible Catholic Church with all its paintings last year, and made our way through Dalby
where we joined the Warrego Highway and headed out onto the flat cotton field plains beyond for the last 80 kms run south-west into Toowoomba.
We had not travelled this section of the Warrego since our first ever trip away in the old Coromal van in 2009, and I was dreading it. This stretch of bitumen, which traverses the black soil plains of this part of Queensland, was the worst major highway on which we had ever driven.
Joy! The Queensland Government has finally listened to the wailing lament of all who use this highway and has embarked on a major road works campaign to finally bring the Warrego into the modern transport world.
What a pleasant surprise this presented as we made our way past the small town of Jondaryan
with its unmistakable pink pub,
by-passed the Army aviation town of Oakey
and hauled across the last stretch of highway
into Toowoomba via the 'back door'.
Given that this is the fourth time we have visited this city, we were able to dispense with the assistance of our electronic navigator and made our way directly to the Toowoomba Motor Village, our park of preference in the Garden City.
Here we took up temporary residence on 'our site' yet again whilst we awaited the arrival of Lyn and Warwick Tainton who have been close friends of yours truly for over forty years (regular readers will recall that Warwick is a recently retired Qantas 747 Captain who, in his youth, shared a house in Sydney with Troy and Hens whom we had just left at Lake Maraboon....the satellites keep circling!).
It was whilst at Lake Maraboon we had learnt that they would be in this neck of the Australian woods. A phone call or two, a slight change of plans, and a most anticipated rendezvous was arranged.
We had not seen Lyn and 'Wok' since last year when they spent a couple of weeks with us at Kurrimine Beach and we were all very much looking forward to this very brief reunion.
We had a day to spare before the festivities began, a day Liz put to very practical use....the first of several rationalisations of the wardrobe (and she accuses me of travelling with too many garments!) It is actually amazing what one can store in a van, particularly when employing those storage bags from which the suction end of the vacuum cleaner can expel all the surrounding air.
You may have noted that Liz was well rugged up, and for good reason. This was our first experience of seriously cold weather for months, and I for one was not happy. We have yet to fathom why it is that every time we lob in Toowoomba, the freezing westerlies howl across the Darling Downs to torment us.
But at least the Taintons brought the sun with them when they arrived on the morrow. We took full advantage of the late afternoon as we enjoyed happy hour on the grass at rear of their big 5th wheeler.
But as the sun set and night descended, so did the temperature. Cooking the evening BBQ required survival clothing, but like the pair of old troopers we are, we boxed on regardless
before scuttling back to the welcoming warmth of the vast interior expanses of the Tainton's mobile mansion like moths drawn to the light.
What a wonderful evening it was. Liz has previously commented that when I get together with any from this group, the conversation just seems to pick up from where it left off, even if that may have been many, many months before. Tonight was no exception, just as it should be!
This party was bright but short lived. Our schedule demanded a departure the next morning and our somewhat dizzy social whirl of the past fortnight was about to come to an end.
Much as we would have liked to have stayed on, the recent several (and most welcomed) changes to our planned south bound route demanded that we press on. Our arrival date in Adelaide was set in stone, and the distance to our home city would not get any shorter just because we were keen to tarry.
So with fond farewells finalised in the early morning Toowoomba sunlight, the Marshies were again mobile. An overnight stop in Moree beckoned before we gallop off to Gilgandra.
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