Lagoon Creek has featured large in the history and development of Barcaldine. In particular it was the site of the biggest of the striking miners' camps, where, at least they had water if not much else.
Today a two kilometre walking track takes visitors along the western banks of the creek, where the sights and sounds of native birds and the beauty of local wildflowers are extolled.
We were in need of a good gallop. A riparian ramble seemed to fit the bill perfectly, so off we went reasonably early in the morning. But as you will soon see, there was more to be found here than just native flora and fauna.
We joined the good cement pathway of the 'Fraser Way' at the Landsborough Highway,
and had not gone more than 100 metres when we were confronted by this colourful sign. Disc Golf?
This was a first! I cannot recall ever having come across anything like this before in all our travels, which, dear readers, just goes to prove that travel does not reveal all nor leave one all knowing!
Initially thinking that this must be unique to Barky, I later discovered that disc golf (or 'frolf' as it is sometimes called) courses can be found in at least ten other Queensland locations, and that this game is flourishing in most other States as well.
Players front up to the 'tees' armed not with clubs and a ball but with a frisbee style disc. The objective of the game is to hurl these from the tee,
landing it in the 'hole', a metal chain and mesh basket on a pole, in as few throws as possible.
Unlike every golf club I have ever seen, here there are no 'green fees'. This Barcaldine course is free for all to use.
For those, like us, who did not arrive in Barcaldine primed for participation with the necessary disc, all is not lost. Tears of frustration and tantrums of temper may be allayed with a quick visit to the town Information Centre where the discs are on sale. I did wonder fleetingly how many family holidays to Barky had been thus saved!
I have to say I was more than a little tempted, and indeed had our stay been longer I suspect I may have snuck out to give this a try, but this did not eventuate.
I have to say I was more than a little tempted, and indeed had our stay been longer I suspect I may have snuck out to give this a try, but this did not eventuate.
We had no sooner passed the tee poles and baskets of the disc golf course when an unusually well watered section of the park presented itself. Now the gym station here came as no surprise, but not so the integrated roadways of a kiddies' road safety school. What will Barcaldine toss up next?
Finally the water came into view, or at least what there was of it. In June 2019, Lagoon Creek was anything but a raging torrent.
Again, we had barely taken another step forward when we came to yet another sign board and another surprise. Hitherto I had always taken the country surrounding Barcaldine to fall within the designation of 'Mitchell Grass Downs', but today I discovered that I had been living in blissful ignorance.
Not only did I become aware I had been wrong all these years, I also learnt a new term for a part of Australia, one I had never heard before........the Desert Uplands. In my own defence I would point out that Barcaldine lies right on the boundary between these two land areas, but it definitely lies within the uplands sector.
And these uplands, which are characterised by sandstone ranges and hard red sandy soil plains, cover sizable chunk of Oz.....a tad under 70,000 square kilometres to be precise, just west of the Great Dividing Range south of Charters Towers.
This area is described as 'desert' mainly because of the abundance of spinifex grass, its semi-arid climate, and the soil colour. Although the soil is relatively infertile, it is thickly vegetated with eucalypt and acacia woodlands as well as the spinifex and other tough grasses. Cattle grazing forms the primary industry throughout this region, together with some mining.
Well, there you go. We had come to see a creek and came away with a geography lesson!
As we now pushed on along the track we found that much of the ground between us and the creek was indeed quite sandy, but not entirely.
In some areas, grey, gluey patches and deep ruts spoke to traps for the unwary after a downpour.
Just as the surrounding soil varied, so did the watercourse. Quite large ponds
were interspersed between stretches were there was but a token puddle left along the muddy creek floor.
This is not always the case, as is demonstrated by a photo taken by Gladys Hartland during the floods of 1963 (and presented courtesy of the 'Uni of Queensland').
What a far cry that was from the dry and barren sand hill on which Liz was standing today in virtually the same area.
So far, despite being very much on the lookout, we had neither seen nor heard any bird life, and then suddenly the bare branches of this stand of dead trees came alive as a flock of Cockatiels swooped in and squabbled for the best vantage point.
This was a species we had never expected to see here, but there was no mistaking the yellow cheeks, adorned with the distinctive pink spot, topped by the long narrow crests of of these slender birds, some of which seemed determined to perch as high as was possible on the slim boughs. For one who had never before seen these birds outside the confines of a domestic cage, this was real treat.
As we wandered further along the often snaking trail, we did come across some wildflowers,
restricted entirely to long staked daisy type blooms, both yellow and white, but I have to say these were hardly a highlight of our day.
Where the water had formed ponds, and the reeds grew in thick, green clumps,
small flocks of ungainly looking Australian White Ibis were hard at it, spearing the muddy ground with their long curved beaks, winkling out a meal.
By the time we reached this odd form of gateway, where the solid barriers presented no real challenge for 'Slim Lizzie' (your scribe passed through with considerably more difficulty after a significant intake of breath),
we had almost reached the end of the trail, and here the creek was much more thickly vegetated with both green and brown reeds,
and many of the pools of water were covered by a thick blanket of green algae, a much less attractive picture.
Now any description of a traipse along this trail would be incomplete without reference to another plant form, one which often reaches out over the pathway to ensnare and tare the unwary.
I believe that the seriously sharp spikes on this thorny bush belong to a species known as the Karroo Thorn, a declared invasive week which thrives in semi arid lands, but don't quote me.
Whatever species it is, we saw quite a bit of it around Barcaldine, and believe me, a close encounter is highly undesirable, and on that you can most assuredly quote me!
Rather than retrace our steps entirely, on the return stroll we took advantage of a feeder track which branched off the main path.
This took us over a small bridge
which crossed one of several channels which drain water from the town into Lagoon Creek
and back into Acacia Street, a few blocks from our caravan park. Whilst, as you have seen, this was not an encounter of note with the native flora and fauna, we were more than pleased with what we had learnt about what was to us a new bioregion of the country, and, of course, the sport of disc golf!
Once back in camp we climbed into the Cruiser for the today's second sortie to a watercourse, one a considerable distance further from town than Lagoon Creek.
In our earlier travelling days we had read much about the virtues of a free camp site some 15 kms south-west of Barcaldine, the Lloyd Jones Weir. To date we had never ventured out to see what we would find, but that was about to change.
Most of the road to the camp is sealed, save the last short stretch, but even this was good gravel. We had heard that this was a very popular spot, where folk set up for months under the gums on the banks of the Alice River
As we approached the entrance
and drove in past the quite large amenities block
before parking in the shade of a thick stand of gums, it was clear that this was indeed a popular place.
To the right of the gateway, many who had obviously been later arrivals, were lined up in the sun,
whilst those in the two rows
at the other end of the camping grounds enjoyed much shadier surroundings.
Whist there are no showers provided, there is potable water available and a dump point. A rudimentary shelter in the middle of the grounds encourages social gatherings
whilst picnic tables
and some rather antiquated fireplaces can be found dotted along the river banks and throughout the camp.
The weir itself, named after the local luminary, C Lloyd-Jones, who had the bright idea of damming the Alice at this point, has an interesting history.
Completed in October 1953 after just over thirty men, mostly migrants, had beavered away for eleven months in its construction, this weir was designed to provide water to assist the local grape and citrus growers, but although the captured waters of the Alice River did provide some benefit for local farmers and orchardists, the ambitious scheme to make this area the centre of a thriving horticultural area did not gain any real traction.
Today the trapped waters upstream of the weir are home to abundant yellowbelly and redclaw, and
it is purportedly for that reason that many spend so much time here.
Of course the fact that it is a free site with no time limit on the length of stay has absolutely no bearing on the decision by many to spend so much time here!!
We left thinking that this is an undeniably pretty place to pitch a tent, but remain somewhat hesitant about the social atmosphere. To our experienced eyes this was the kind of camp where we would venture in quietly and take time to assess the atmosphere before setting up too extensively (unlike some we saw today who looked as though they had been here for a year!)
But now at least we knew what to expect, not least of which was that this was decidedly a 'first in best dressed camp', and despite some reservations, we have pencilled it in for our 'off road' days in the future.
And these uplands, which are characterised by sandstone ranges and hard red sandy soil plains, cover sizable chunk of Oz.....a tad under 70,000 square kilometres to be precise, just west of the Great Dividing Range south of Charters Towers.
This area is described as 'desert' mainly because of the abundance of spinifex grass, its semi-arid climate, and the soil colour. Although the soil is relatively infertile, it is thickly vegetated with eucalypt and acacia woodlands as well as the spinifex and other tough grasses. Cattle grazing forms the primary industry throughout this region, together with some mining.
Well, there you go. We had come to see a creek and came away with a geography lesson!
As we now pushed on along the track we found that much of the ground between us and the creek was indeed quite sandy, but not entirely.
In some areas, grey, gluey patches and deep ruts spoke to traps for the unwary after a downpour.
Just as the surrounding soil varied, so did the watercourse. Quite large ponds
were interspersed between stretches were there was but a token puddle left along the muddy creek floor.
This is not always the case, as is demonstrated by a photo taken by Gladys Hartland during the floods of 1963 (and presented courtesy of the 'Uni of Queensland').
What a far cry that was from the dry and barren sand hill on which Liz was standing today in virtually the same area.
So far, despite being very much on the lookout, we had neither seen nor heard any bird life, and then suddenly the bare branches of this stand of dead trees came alive as a flock of Cockatiels swooped in and squabbled for the best vantage point.
As we wandered further along the often snaking trail, we did come across some wildflowers,
restricted entirely to long staked daisy type blooms, both yellow and white, but I have to say these were hardly a highlight of our day.
Where the water had formed ponds, and the reeds grew in thick, green clumps,
small flocks of ungainly looking Australian White Ibis were hard at it, spearing the muddy ground with their long curved beaks, winkling out a meal.
By the time we reached this odd form of gateway, where the solid barriers presented no real challenge for 'Slim Lizzie' (your scribe passed through with considerably more difficulty after a significant intake of breath),
we had almost reached the end of the trail, and here the creek was much more thickly vegetated with both green and brown reeds,
and many of the pools of water were covered by a thick blanket of green algae, a much less attractive picture.
Now any description of a traipse along this trail would be incomplete without reference to another plant form, one which often reaches out over the pathway to ensnare and tare the unwary.
I believe that the seriously sharp spikes on this thorny bush belong to a species known as the Karroo Thorn, a declared invasive week which thrives in semi arid lands, but don't quote me.
Whatever species it is, we saw quite a bit of it around Barcaldine, and believe me, a close encounter is highly undesirable, and on that you can most assuredly quote me!
Rather than retrace our steps entirely, on the return stroll we took advantage of a feeder track which branched off the main path.
This took us over a small bridge
which crossed one of several channels which drain water from the town into Lagoon Creek
and back into Acacia Street, a few blocks from our caravan park. Whilst, as you have seen, this was not an encounter of note with the native flora and fauna, we were more than pleased with what we had learnt about what was to us a new bioregion of the country, and, of course, the sport of disc golf!
Once back in camp we climbed into the Cruiser for the today's second sortie to a watercourse, one a considerable distance further from town than Lagoon Creek.
In our earlier travelling days we had read much about the virtues of a free camp site some 15 kms south-west of Barcaldine, the Lloyd Jones Weir. To date we had never ventured out to see what we would find, but that was about to change.
Most of the road to the camp is sealed, save the last short stretch, but even this was good gravel. We had heard that this was a very popular spot, where folk set up for months under the gums on the banks of the Alice River
As we approached the entrance
and drove in past the quite large amenities block
before parking in the shade of a thick stand of gums, it was clear that this was indeed a popular place.
To the right of the gateway, many who had obviously been later arrivals, were lined up in the sun,
whilst those in the two rows
at the other end of the camping grounds enjoyed much shadier surroundings.
Whist there are no showers provided, there is potable water available and a dump point. A rudimentary shelter in the middle of the grounds encourages social gatherings
whilst picnic tables
and some rather antiquated fireplaces can be found dotted along the river banks and throughout the camp.
The weir itself, named after the local luminary, C Lloyd-Jones, who had the bright idea of damming the Alice at this point, has an interesting history.
Completed in October 1953 after just over thirty men, mostly migrants, had beavered away for eleven months in its construction, this weir was designed to provide water to assist the local grape and citrus growers, but although the captured waters of the Alice River did provide some benefit for local farmers and orchardists, the ambitious scheme to make this area the centre of a thriving horticultural area did not gain any real traction.
Today the trapped waters upstream of the weir are home to abundant yellowbelly and redclaw, and
it is purportedly for that reason that many spend so much time here.
Of course the fact that it is a free site with no time limit on the length of stay has absolutely no bearing on the decision by many to spend so much time here!!
We left thinking that this is an undeniably pretty place to pitch a tent, but remain somewhat hesitant about the social atmosphere. To our experienced eyes this was the kind of camp where we would venture in quietly and take time to assess the atmosphere before setting up too extensively (unlike some we saw today who looked as though they had been here for a year!)
But now at least we knew what to expect, not least of which was that this was decidedly a 'first in best dressed camp', and despite some reservations, we have pencilled it in for our 'off road' days in the future.
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