OK, let's get the high jinks out of the way before we embark on the serious business of sightseeing (you will note I did not say 'more serious'!).
Yowah is not a big town, and of those who own homes here, quite a few shut up shop (literally in some cases as we shall see) and head south during the hotter summer months. This is a situation which is almost the reverse of what goes on in White Cliffs, but one which is driven by the same reason.
The 2017 census confirmed that Yowah's population is about 100, so it is little wonder that no-one has taken the plunge and established a local pub. But that has not deterred those who live here from ensuring that they can gather publicly over a frothy or two (or three) on at least two occasions a week.
Bar meals and drinks are on for all comers each Wednesday and Saturday evening at the well set up complex managed by the Yowah Community Services group. We had the good fortune to have arrived here on a Wednesday, had seen the notice on the chalk board, and were more than determined to embrace the local social scene. We suspected that a large majority of those staying in the park would do the same, and we were right.
The venue for these bi-weekly events can be found on the main road into town, Harlequin Street. In fact we had passed it making our way to our digs. The surrounds look pretty bare for one simple reason....they are!
My old friend 'Google Earth' shows why. As you can see, Yowah lies surrounded by red earth which is dotted only here and there with trees. Grassy plains....forget it!
I've marked the Community Service area (and the adjacent public hot spa) with the red arrow. Our caravan park and site location is in blue, whilst the yellow dart shows the location of the cafe where we indulged in pizza and drinks on the Friday evening.
In front of the buildings the town War Memorial is quaintly and colourfully decorated with painted rocks, a Yowah substitute for flowers!
As I've mentioned previously, when the locals here get together, things happen. We poked our noses in here during the day when it was empty and were amazed to find that this complex includes an outdoor stage, plenty of outdoor furniture,
with fire stands dotted throughout (we soon discovered why!).
The large hall and recreation room which abuts the food servery and kitchen
was actually being put to good use when we arrived in the late afternoon for the scheduled festivities. The local Shire was conducting a community meeting (I've forgotten the matters under discussion, but they were of some import) and the hall was well populated. There was, as yet, no activity at the food service area,
but fortunately this was not the case at the bar. It was open for business. At this point we itinerants from the caravan park were the only customers, and whilst I was wandering around snapping away, Liz had already made some new friends in a group which included a couple from Adelaide.
I realised that the meeting was over when I spotted this 'chalk and cheese' encounter, a Shire heavy in deep conversation with one of the locals.
As the hall emptied the empty bar stools filled
and as the sun set, the fuel in the fire stands was set ablaze to ward off the rapidly descending evening chill.
By nightfall most of the previously empty seats had been snapped up.
Tourists and locals mingled merrily as can tops popped, bottles were opened and the yarns began.
With what seemed like our own personal brazier blazing away behind us, our little group boxed on with gay abandon (that's Liz in the purple top...wondering just what I was up to!). We found that we got on famously well with the two couples included in this chance encounter and we subsequently spent many entertaining social hours together.
For some reason or other (now lost in the mists of time....or in the bottom of a glass) we didn't quite get around to breasting the food bar. I vaguely recall that we had made sure that we had a meal waiting for us on our return to the van, so the very tasty looking burgers which were on offer here this evening did not find their way to our table. Our new found friends had been equally cautious, so we slurped and gargled on with gay abandon.
What an introduction this had been to Yowah, but it didn't end here.
Tomorrow evening was to be even more entertaining. Thursday night in Yowah is 'Duck Race Night'! We had read something about this previously, and, not having given the matter sufficient thought, could not for the life of us understand how on earth ducks could be assembled and raced in a place like this.
That was until we rather sheepishly discovered that the participants in this weekly 'seaonal' event, which is all set up to raise funds for the Royal Flying Doctor Service, were not of the feathered variety. Doh!!
The 'race', which in reality sees little yellow rubber ducks floating down the bore drain, is run in conjunction with dinner cooked by the park staff (and local helpers) and a raffle. Dinner bookings were essential, and at the appointed time we all gathered in the camp dining area with its wonderful mural adorning the back wall.
As we found in Gulargambone, another of the 'fun' parks on the road, the duck races and dinner here in Yowah attract a goodly number of the local residents, as well as us blow-ins. When we later saw what graced our plates (roast and sweets) for $20, we could understand why.
My newly acquired mate Chris and yours truly fell into a deep pre-event conversation, and, as you may be able to tell from our apparel, this was far from a warm night. Red wine, Scotch and Stones green ginger wine were very much the drinks of choice (or was that necessity?) for this evening.
The race course was all set, steaming in the late afternoon chill,
and as night enveloped us, the race participants were assembled.
This is how it works. Each little duck is numbered, and all who wish to take a punt on the winner(s) line up at a table in the dining hall and buy a number. The $10 purchase price becomes a direct donation to the RFDS. What a great little earner this had become, and what a hoot the evening was.
But obviously there was more to it than this. Those with high hopes of a win, or more to the point, just wanting to be involved in this unique event, lined the course.
The tub of ducks was emptied into the channel and the race was on.
This bore line is anything but a fast flowing stream, and whilst the field did spread remarkably quickly, some of the back markers did need a touch of the whip, in this case in the form of a swirl or two with a leaf rake!
We had already seen the 'Finish Line' but now the set up here became clearer. Both the small platform over the drain and the metal cage (on the right of this shot) soon came into play.
As the racing ducks reached the finishing line they were captured in the cage by a 'race steward' who then lined up the winners in order on the platform on which she was kneeling. Creative if nothing else!
Mind you, it was just as well that there had been a clear first, second and third. The back runners arrived in what could best be described as 'rake induced' chaos, a blanket finish if ever there was one, but let's face it, this was of little consequence...the winners had been decided and it was time for tea,
which was excellent in both quality and quantity. They even served up a half chicken for philistines like my nearest and dearest who cannot come at the delights of roast pork! With (un-photographed) sticky date pudding with a seriously good caramel sauce for desert, this was a meal to remember.
With dinner over and the race winners rewarded, Rick took to the floor, called the crowded room to attention, and conducted the raffle.
Again, with this came a 'Yowah twist'. Rather than call on any present to dip a hand into a raised receptacle of numbers, the camp pooch did the honours, plucking a duck from a dish and trotting across to the prize table with a numbered duck in its mouth.
'Novel' doesn't even go halfway to describing this spectacle! Oh, yes, and at the the end of the fund raising activities, the RFDS coffers would soon be swelled by just under $1,000!
Needless to say, this evening did not end early. None at our table walked away winners as far as the race and the raffles went, but from a social stance this had been a night to remember. We were all very grateful the distance between the venue and our respective digs was not far and that the even ground between them was well lit!
The next day brought even more social activity, this time in the form of a 'High Tea'....yep, you read that correctly.....high tea!
This time it was to be Cancer Research which would benefit from money raised. I had decided that my regular afternoon nap was of more importance, but Liz contributed a packet of cream biscuits (which 'she who must be obeyed' in the person of the chief organiser said would be more than acceptable) and represented the Mobile Marshies.
As we had now learnt, no community event in Yowah is undertaken by halves.
As the appointed hour approached, the tables in and beyond the camp kitchen were loaded with goodies of all sorts. Cakes, biscuits, pikelets, slices and all manner of concoctions appeared on the the tables. It seemed the only criterion was that it was sweet.
There was even a proper cup cake stand gracing one section of this cornucopia.
As the guests began to assemble, well rugged up against the afternoon chill, the camp fire blazed,
the obligatory speeches were made
and applauded
and then it was 'time for tea', High Tea that is.
I am told that with the donations received added to the proceeds of the trading table, Yowah punched well above its weight yet again.
As if all this were not enough, Friday in Yowah is 'pizza night'. The Yowah Nut cafe holds it doors open uncommonly late for those who wish to consume in house or to take away. The only sensible stipulation is that orders are placed by mid afternoon to allow for proper catering.
Our new found friends Jenny and Chris were quick to agree with our suggestion that an evening pizza would be an ideal way to end our Yowah adventures. With BYO contributions tucked under our arms we wandered off a short distance down Harlequin Street
where the staff of the immaculately clean and well organised Yowah Nut cafe were awaiting our arrival (they were not too sure about posing for a photo!).
By now I had discovered that Chris shared my delight in a slurp on a single malt whisky, so the caravan bed had been lifted and the cellar raided. My contribution to the collective drinks trolley was more than well received.
As were our pizzas.
Understandably, given where we were, we had expected that the ($20 large, and $15 small) presentations would have been of the frozen and reheated variety.
Nothing of the kind! The bases were all freshly made that day, and the toppings, the quantities of which were predicated on our prior orders, were prepared and added whilst we waited. I was gobsmacked. For some reason our camera remained in its pouch, but let me assure you all, dear readers, that I supped this evening on one of the finest pizzas I've ever had presented before me. It was sensational, and my surprise and delight was echoed around the table. This had been yet another outback surprise and a huge tick for Yowah.
The marvellous staff here were volunteers, and with that in mind, plus the fact that the chef had to go home to feed her grandchildren, we did not linger. But you would be wrong to think that our last night in Yowah was any different from our first.
The party continued in Jenny and Chris's mobile home until well into the night before common sense and the rather (by now) daunting spectacle of a morning departure finally won out.
It had been some time since we had arrived in a new camp and partied on one way or another for three nights straight. We almost had to leave for a rest!
My old friend 'Google Earth' shows why. As you can see, Yowah lies surrounded by red earth which is dotted only here and there with trees. Grassy plains....forget it!
I've marked the Community Service area (and the adjacent public hot spa) with the red arrow. Our caravan park and site location is in blue, whilst the yellow dart shows the location of the cafe where we indulged in pizza and drinks on the Friday evening.
In front of the buildings the town War Memorial is quaintly and colourfully decorated with painted rocks, a Yowah substitute for flowers!
As I've mentioned previously, when the locals here get together, things happen. We poked our noses in here during the day when it was empty and were amazed to find that this complex includes an outdoor stage, plenty of outdoor furniture,
with fire stands dotted throughout (we soon discovered why!).
The large hall and recreation room which abuts the food servery and kitchen
was actually being put to good use when we arrived in the late afternoon for the scheduled festivities. The local Shire was conducting a community meeting (I've forgotten the matters under discussion, but they were of some import) and the hall was well populated. There was, as yet, no activity at the food service area,
but fortunately this was not the case at the bar. It was open for business. At this point we itinerants from the caravan park were the only customers, and whilst I was wandering around snapping away, Liz had already made some new friends in a group which included a couple from Adelaide.
I realised that the meeting was over when I spotted this 'chalk and cheese' encounter, a Shire heavy in deep conversation with one of the locals.
As the hall emptied the empty bar stools filled
and as the sun set, the fuel in the fire stands was set ablaze to ward off the rapidly descending evening chill.
By nightfall most of the previously empty seats had been snapped up.
Tourists and locals mingled merrily as can tops popped, bottles were opened and the yarns began.
With what seemed like our own personal brazier blazing away behind us, our little group boxed on with gay abandon (that's Liz in the purple top...wondering just what I was up to!). We found that we got on famously well with the two couples included in this chance encounter and we subsequently spent many entertaining social hours together.
For some reason or other (now lost in the mists of time....or in the bottom of a glass) we didn't quite get around to breasting the food bar. I vaguely recall that we had made sure that we had a meal waiting for us on our return to the van, so the very tasty looking burgers which were on offer here this evening did not find their way to our table. Our new found friends had been equally cautious, so we slurped and gargled on with gay abandon.
What an introduction this had been to Yowah, but it didn't end here.
Tomorrow evening was to be even more entertaining. Thursday night in Yowah is 'Duck Race Night'! We had read something about this previously, and, not having given the matter sufficient thought, could not for the life of us understand how on earth ducks could be assembled and raced in a place like this.
That was until we rather sheepishly discovered that the participants in this weekly 'seaonal' event, which is all set up to raise funds for the Royal Flying Doctor Service, were not of the feathered variety. Doh!!
As we found in Gulargambone, another of the 'fun' parks on the road, the duck races and dinner here in Yowah attract a goodly number of the local residents, as well as us blow-ins. When we later saw what graced our plates (roast and sweets) for $20, we could understand why.
My newly acquired mate Chris and yours truly fell into a deep pre-event conversation, and, as you may be able to tell from our apparel, this was far from a warm night. Red wine, Scotch and Stones green ginger wine were very much the drinks of choice (or was that necessity?) for this evening.
The race course was all set, steaming in the late afternoon chill,
and as night enveloped us, the race participants were assembled.
This is how it works. Each little duck is numbered, and all who wish to take a punt on the winner(s) line up at a table in the dining hall and buy a number. The $10 purchase price becomes a direct donation to the RFDS. What a great little earner this had become, and what a hoot the evening was.
But obviously there was more to it than this. Those with high hopes of a win, or more to the point, just wanting to be involved in this unique event, lined the course.
The tub of ducks was emptied into the channel and the race was on.
This bore line is anything but a fast flowing stream, and whilst the field did spread remarkably quickly, some of the back markers did need a touch of the whip, in this case in the form of a swirl or two with a leaf rake!
We had already seen the 'Finish Line' but now the set up here became clearer. Both the small platform over the drain and the metal cage (on the right of this shot) soon came into play.
As the racing ducks reached the finishing line they were captured in the cage by a 'race steward' who then lined up the winners in order on the platform on which she was kneeling. Creative if nothing else!
Mind you, it was just as well that there had been a clear first, second and third. The back runners arrived in what could best be described as 'rake induced' chaos, a blanket finish if ever there was one, but let's face it, this was of little consequence...the winners had been decided and it was time for tea,
which was excellent in both quality and quantity. They even served up a half chicken for philistines like my nearest and dearest who cannot come at the delights of roast pork! With (un-photographed) sticky date pudding with a seriously good caramel sauce for desert, this was a meal to remember.
With dinner over and the race winners rewarded, Rick took to the floor, called the crowded room to attention, and conducted the raffle.
Again, with this came a 'Yowah twist'. Rather than call on any present to dip a hand into a raised receptacle of numbers, the camp pooch did the honours, plucking a duck from a dish and trotting across to the prize table with a numbered duck in its mouth.
'Novel' doesn't even go halfway to describing this spectacle! Oh, yes, and at the the end of the fund raising activities, the RFDS coffers would soon be swelled by just under $1,000!
Needless to say, this evening did not end early. None at our table walked away winners as far as the race and the raffles went, but from a social stance this had been a night to remember. We were all very grateful the distance between the venue and our respective digs was not far and that the even ground between them was well lit!
The next day brought even more social activity, this time in the form of a 'High Tea'....yep, you read that correctly.....high tea!
This time it was to be Cancer Research which would benefit from money raised. I had decided that my regular afternoon nap was of more importance, but Liz contributed a packet of cream biscuits (which 'she who must be obeyed' in the person of the chief organiser said would be more than acceptable) and represented the Mobile Marshies.
As we had now learnt, no community event in Yowah is undertaken by halves.
As the appointed hour approached, the tables in and beyond the camp kitchen were loaded with goodies of all sorts. Cakes, biscuits, pikelets, slices and all manner of concoctions appeared on the the tables. It seemed the only criterion was that it was sweet.
There was even a proper cup cake stand gracing one section of this cornucopia.
As the guests began to assemble, well rugged up against the afternoon chill, the camp fire blazed,
the obligatory speeches were made
and applauded
and then it was 'time for tea', High Tea that is.
I am told that with the donations received added to the proceeds of the trading table, Yowah punched well above its weight yet again.
As if all this were not enough, Friday in Yowah is 'pizza night'. The Yowah Nut cafe holds it doors open uncommonly late for those who wish to consume in house or to take away. The only sensible stipulation is that orders are placed by mid afternoon to allow for proper catering.
Our new found friends Jenny and Chris were quick to agree with our suggestion that an evening pizza would be an ideal way to end our Yowah adventures. With BYO contributions tucked under our arms we wandered off a short distance down Harlequin Street
where the staff of the immaculately clean and well organised Yowah Nut cafe were awaiting our arrival (they were not too sure about posing for a photo!).
By now I had discovered that Chris shared my delight in a slurp on a single malt whisky, so the caravan bed had been lifted and the cellar raided. My contribution to the collective drinks trolley was more than well received.
As were our pizzas.
Understandably, given where we were, we had expected that the ($20 large, and $15 small) presentations would have been of the frozen and reheated variety.
Nothing of the kind! The bases were all freshly made that day, and the toppings, the quantities of which were predicated on our prior orders, were prepared and added whilst we waited. I was gobsmacked. For some reason our camera remained in its pouch, but let me assure you all, dear readers, that I supped this evening on one of the finest pizzas I've ever had presented before me. It was sensational, and my surprise and delight was echoed around the table. This had been yet another outback surprise and a huge tick for Yowah.
The marvellous staff here were volunteers, and with that in mind, plus the fact that the chef had to go home to feed her grandchildren, we did not linger. But you would be wrong to think that our last night in Yowah was any different from our first.
The party continued in Jenny and Chris's mobile home until well into the night before common sense and the rather (by now) daunting spectacle of a morning departure finally won out.
It had been some time since we had arrived in a new camp and partied on one way or another for three nights straight. We almost had to leave for a rest!
