A SHORT NOTICE TOWNSVILLE RENDEZVOUS (5 JULY 2016)

So, with Alva Beach explored and included on the 'return visit' list, we had almost reached the end of the northern migration for this year. I mentioned previously that we had 'places to go and people to see'.....we have gone to the places, now it's time for the people.

Our very good SA friends Julie and Chris Kuchenmeister, who we first met at the Adelaide Test Match cricket many years ago, and with whom we have several other interests in common, were travelling the country in the opposite direction to us. We had been in touch from time to time and eventually determined that, with a bit of good will on both sides, our orbits could intersect in Townsville, but only for twenty-four hours.

This plan suited us well for  several reasons. Apart from the fact that we were very keen to catch up with the 'Kutchies', our wine cellar was in dire need of a significant boost in stocks before we headed up to Kurrimine Beach. Townsville hosts the last Dan Murphy's this side of Cairns....we have gotten to know it well over the past four years! And the hop from Alva Beach to Townsville.......just a tad over 100 kms....this was a good plan. (sorry...this para will just not justify right!)

Once back into Ayr and out onto the Bruce Highway yet again, we were presented with the wonderful spectacle of dense, low lying fog at the base of the distant mountains of the Great Dividing Range, mountains which had now been our constant travelling companion for many, many kilometres.








We never tire of the constantly changing cloud formations which twist and boil over the ridges, fed by the moisture from the Coral Sea being dragged onshore by the south-easterly trades of this time of the year.





But this was 'old hat' territory, so no more photos, well, not until the craggy peak of Townsville's Castle Rock heralded our arrival in this major centre of southern Tropical North Queensland. (You may recall that whilst travelling south on on this stretch of highway last September we had to negotiate the smoke hazard of a large bushfire...we were interested to note that the entire area has been considerably cleaned up!)


You may have also noted that I have used the term 'Tropical North Queensland' for the first time (as opposed to Far North Queensland). A pretty active debate is currently raging in this part of the world at the moment. The tourism gurus claim that the term Far North Queensland implies that the region is too distant to encourage popular tourist appeal, whereas by replacing the word 'far' with 'tropical', all of sudden the map will change and the kilometres will somehow magically disappear before all who may be contemplating a trip to the world of winter warmth. 

I have only one comment to make about all this, a direct quote from that highly talented but flaky tennis champion of yesteryear, John McEnroe, who was want to frequently scream at the central chair umpire...."you can't be serious"! Surely any who can afford this trip could not possibly be so dumb as to be swayed one way or the other by the proposed change......or could they?  Let's face it, there is even a current active political debate centred on the proposal to split the State into two, South and North Queensland. I do sometimes wonder if there is an orchestrated competition between QLD and WA for the 'only in America' prize!

But let's move on. Despite all the eccentricities of many of the folk of FNQ, we love the place as is obvious by our continual return visits. 



The Kutchies had preceded us into Townsville and had chosen to stay at the Magnetic Gateway Holiday Park which is conveniently situated on the southern side of this large provincial city. Notwithstanding the navigational challenges presented by yet another major alteration to the Bruce Highway on this side of town, we were soon set up on a huge grassed site immediately next to our friends.


Now let the games begin....literally! After effusive greetings and an exchange of travel and other gossip, and our return from the essential sortie to Dan's, we were asked the question, "Do you play Yahtzee?" "Well, yes" was my hesitant reply, which I quickly embellished by explaining that the last time I had chanced my arm with this dice game had been in June 1972 in a small seaside holiday town on the west coast of Sweden (now that's another and long story!)




Liz had never challenged the gods of chance in this manner, but despite our lack of any or current expertise, we took little persuasion to settle in for what tuned out to be an afternoon of real fun and frivolity. But, of course, first things first....let's get the top of the red bubbles whilst the rules are explained. 








And then it was down to business. You could tell Liz was serious....she even donned her glasses! Despite our best efforts, we were cleaned up....I maintain the claim that we were just being polite guests! In reality, the game was just a good excuse for much frivolity and noise. 


Not only were we provided with an afternoon of entertainment, the redoubtable 'Jooles' had asked an even more important question than determining our penchant for Yahtzee....."would you be interested in a lamb roast for dinner"?  What a silly question! Common courtesy and 'camp rules' demanded that we supplied sweets. Fortunately we were well stocked with frozen berries and ice-cream, courtesy of our significant combined freezer space. Dinner plans were agreed and in place.






And it did not disappoint.

This was just the occasion to break out one of my treasured Rutherglen 'stickies'. With Max on guard duty we yarned on well into the night in the still warmth of a balmy FNQ evening.





Meeting old and dear friends on the road like this, more or less 'on spec', is a real travelling highlight. Liz and I are very comfortable in our own company, and we continue to revel in all the new sights and experiences our nomadic lifestyle brings, but there is always something really special about a day such as we had in Townsville this year with the Kutchies. 

And it was about to continue. Our next port of call is Mission Beach, or to be more precise, Wongaling Beach, and a week with more good friends. The party had only just begun!

THE SHIFTING SANDS OF ALVA BEACH (1- 4 JULY 2016)

Our winter destination was getting closer, but we still had a few things to do and people to see before finally settling in at Kurrimine Beach. 

In previous years we had heard much about the fishing to be had at Alva Beach, the small coastal township in the Burdekin region of Queensland, just under 20 kms north-east of Ayr. We had overnighted in Ayr on our return south last year and agreed then that this is a town in which we must spend a few days, but not at this stage. We were continuing our quest for new coastal destinations, and at Alva Beach we found one which was, for me at least, utterly fascinating.

And it is here in this missive that I can announce I've discovered a new trick....the use of Google Earth photographs. I have recently become more aware of the wonderful advantages this imagery provides when trying to gain an initial impression of a new destination and its surrounds (yes, yes....troglodyte Marshie again struggling out his cave into the light of modern technology!)  

As this photo shows, Alva (Beach) lies on the coast just south of the distinctive and impressively hooked peninsula which is Cape Bowling Green (despite many enquiries I could not get to the bottom of this unusual name...my quest continues).

Its name is not the only thing which is unusual about Cape Bowling Green. It is the longest sand spit in the country, stretching northwards for just under 15 kms from the south-eastern corner of Bowling Green Bay. It may seem somewhat odd to be commenting about sand at a beach destination....I mean after all what else would one expect to find (apart from mud flats!) but here the sands are different.



One of the first things I noticed about our pending destination when I was poking about in Google Earth was that the waters of Alva Beach appeared to be nothing more than a channel between the coast and a long sand bank.






This turned out to be exactly right, and not only that, these sands are constantly on the move, continually being sculptured into ever changing channels and banks by the irresistible force of the waves (thanks to 'tripadvisor' for this photo).  




So what is so different about this part of the coast, and where does all this sand come from? The answer is the mighty Burdekin River which dumps incalculable tonnes of fine silt into the ocean at its mouth about 40 kms south of Cape Bowling Green. These sandy deposits are gradually pushed north under the influence of the prevailing southerly waves along the coast and up to the cape.

Interestingly, when we had first crossed the Burdekin River via the famous (and somewhat intimidating) Silverlink bridge it had been, like now, the dry season. The flow had been reduced to a few small channels, and we had commented at the time about both the width of the river and the sandy nature of its bed.




This photo, courtesy 'zontadistrict22', will hopefully provide a much better impression of what we saw than my mere words. These huge silt beds extend for miles and miles along the river, 








and when you see what happens to this waterway during the height of 'the wet', (thanks 'snowys') the extent of the sand deposits along the coast near Alva Beach from the mouth of the Burdekin to Cape Bowling Green become much more understandable.

And these soft, shifting sands can be very unfriendly. Apart from the dangers of rip channels for those swimming, any taking to the beach in their 4WD's should do so with caution. For the uninitiated, or those who chose to ignore the many warning signs, they can be treacherous on a rising tide, as this photo of two vehicles terminally stranded in the morass of soft sand like a pair of beached whales (courtesy 'my swag') so amply demonstrates.


But of course, before we could see all this for ourselves, we had to get there. We treated the noise of the Proserpine pool attendant next door as an 0600 hours alarm clock and, given that our stay here had been 'minimalist' as far as set up went, we had little to do to hitch and be on our way. This stretch of the Bruce Highway is one with which we were very familiar. 

We covered the 160 kms to the Burdekin River crossing in a canter, where we again confronted the somewhat intimidating steel arches which make up the impressive bulk of the Silverlink Bridge. We remain surprised that there are not significant speed restrictions applied to this section of the highway, but irrespective to that, this crossing is one where those new to the towing game stand out....they reduce their speed to a crawl.

Rather than take the sharp left turn in Ayr to continue on north-west up the Bruce to Townsville, we made our way into the backstreets and 













on into the cane fields to the north-east.












Here a break in the weather (it was not to last) meant that cutting was in full swing and this massive mechanical 'mantis' was setting up for a full blown attack on the quivering crop.

Operations at the nearby Willmar mill were also well under way. With the delays the rain has caused this season many of the mills were now working to absolute capacity whenever there was a break in the weather. 

Sixteen kms through the cane country out of the back of Ayr and the well trimmed hedges of the Alva Beach Tourist Park came into view












and we duly hove to at the park office.

We had been warned that this can be a very busy park, one to which dedicated fisher folk make an annual and extended pilgrimage each winter. This was soon more than apparent.










We had been allocated a site quite near the entrance. It was a little tight to access, but once we were on it was more than acceptable with a good slab, bordering hedge and a carob standing sentinel at the front.








Although this was not the most sheltered spot in the park as we later discovered, it did have some other advantages. We were directly opposite the lawned assembly area between  the camp kitchen and the ablution block.






The large and well equipped camp kitchen was well used by many















as was the adjacent lawn area where an afternoon assembly for happy hour is encouraged by the park management.















The heads are dated but reasonable












but the park pool is something out of the box.....large, sparklingly clean and even boasting a lap line! 





As with many parks situated well out of a major town, communications was a problem, and here out site provided another advantage. We were close enough to the camp 'hotspot' to be able to communicate from our van rather than having to wander over the the camp kitchen and here at Alva Beach the park provides free wifi which is always welcomed.

We did sortie out and about on a number of occasions whilst here, both on foot and mounted in our mechanical metal motor, gaining familiarity with the various beach access points, of which there are several, and determining whether or not the reports about this being a fishing paradise were exaggerated. As is so often the case, Alva Beach is a spot where ownership of, or access to, a floating platform is highly desirable, but from the observations I made, good numbers of the most desirable whiting and flathead are on hand for those prepared to manage the winds and the currents and fish from the beach along the channels between the shore and the sandbar.

The end result of our venture to this fascinating and very different part of the coast was a decision to return here for some time on the 'tourist shoulder' either in May or September, when the weather should still be acceptable and the place less crowded. Accordingly, I've not bothered with photos of the town, the beaches or the real surprise.....the Alva Beach Surf Lifesaving club, one of the first established in Queensland.

This will be the project for our return visit, probably on current planning estimates, in May next year.

WE PUSH ON TO PROSERPINE (29 - 30 JUNE 2016)

On this annual migration north we were on a dual mission....one was, obviously, to reach our 'winter grounds' at Kurrimine Beach, and the other, to explore a number of potential new playgrounds on the QLD coast.

To that end, our next major destination was Alva Beach, some 20 kms Ayr and a good 400 kms from Cape Palmerston. Our larder and wine cabinet were looking less than replete after our sojourn at Palmerston, so we decided to split the trip to Alva Beach with a couple of nights in Proserpine, a town we knew harbours two good supermarkets and a well stocked bottle shop.

This meant that today we had to put just over 200 kms under our wheels. Once back on the Bruce Highway we were soon passing through the tiny highway town of Koumala, where the pub is renown for the quality and size of its offerings at the dining table. There is a very serviceable caravan park just behind the hotel, one we intend to use in the future for an overnight stop and a good feed in the pub.

The largish town of Sarina was now about 35 kms in front of us, but before we entered the fray of the early morning traffic we drove past this sign, and herein lies another travellers' tale.

One of the beach side destinations we had listed to explore was Armstrongs Beach. It's praises had been sung loudly on one of the TV travel shows. This glowing report was complemented by the park description to be found in the latest 'Queensland Caravan Parks Directory'. 

"Relax at our beautiful boutique oceanfront park amongst the abundant wildlife. Enjoy the serenity and the friendly atmosphere our park is famous for. Experience the best of saltwater fishing, prawning and crabbing right on your doorstep."

I had been pretty excited by all this. Wisely, as it transpires, we did a recce on a day trip from Cape Palmerston. Having driven past what appeared to us to be a somewhat non-descript and tired looking park, where those in residence were jammed in like sardines, we were left wondering just what 'boutique' means as an adjective used in these circumstances. In any event, this place proved a major disappointment and was immediately crossed off our list of prospective playgrounds. We were immensely relieved we had not booked in.

Sarina soon came (traffic lights!)

and went (more traffic lights!)

After the medical mayhem of a few nights past, we had become unexpectedly familiar with much of this town. It is one we plan to revisit for a few days in the future but for now we pushed on through on our way to the next large town of this region, Mackay,

where the sugar mills were belching smoke and steam in a frenzy of activity. 

There was a very good reason for this. Cane harvesting and the subsequent extraction of the sugar usually kicks off in this region in early June. Once the cane cutting begins, the action is frenetic and highly organised. Those who operate the mills allow eight days per season for rain interruption.....days when the cane fields become too sodden to allow the heavy cutting machinery to do their thing without becoming hopelessly bogged (we had actually seen the results of one miscalculation...not a pretty sight).

And this year? Well, by the time we had reached the Mackay region the entire season's quota of 'rain delay days' had been exceeded before a single truck had been emptied into the waiting hoppers of the mills. To date some 12 -14 days had been lost, and it only got worse the further north we travelled (more of the rain story later).

Apart from the fact that the growers were left waiting for their income, this delay causes a much larger problem. Cane farmers work on two crops per year, but it is critical that the batons of the second crop are planted in time to allow the cane to mature before the extreme heat and humidity of the 'wet' sets in. The rain delays now being experienced in getting the first crop off meant that many growers will not be able to set a second cane crop this season.....life on the land, eh!

The Bruce Highway skirts around the Mackay CBD, and well before we had reached the centre of town, it was the left lane for us.

Hauling out of Mackay we could see yet another local sugar mill in full swing 

and then there was another familiar sight greeting us....road works on the Bruce Highway! I have to say that we are far less peeved by any delays these cause than we used to be.....we had noticed some vast improvements in the condition of the highway on this trip north.

Within the next hour we had finally and formally entered the Whitsunday region, where the delights of Airlie Beach and the nearby offshore islands such as Hayman, Daydream, Hamilton, South Molle and Lindemans offer tropical treats of white sands, warm waters, swaying palms, balmy weather, fine food and wine and fun-filled days and nights for all to enjoy.....all at a price, mind you, and providing it isn't raining.... which this year it did....a lot! 

There was to be no rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous at play for the Marshies (it is decidedly not our scene in the first place).....two nights in the much more modest surrounds of the working town of Proserpine was our lot for this trip.

We were folk on a mission. Re-supply was the order of the day for us. In we went along the highway to the far end of town

where a left turn took us past the still dormant Proserpine mill (it fired up the following day)

and on to the entrance to the Proserpine Tourist Park.

The park here is owned by the local council, as became immediately evident. This less than welcoming sign said two things...one we were in cyclone country and two, the council would have nothing of any claim for damages.

The grounds of the caravan park are co-located with the excellent facilities of the Proserpine swimming pool

and the park booking staff also manage the comings and goings at the pool.

Once checked in we drove the short distance along the entrance roadway past the few camp cabins and the ablution block

to our site, which was conveniently located directly opposite. That was about the only convenience we had here.

The sites in this section of the park are somewhat narrow. If we had planed to settle in for a longer period, the border hedge would have needed a good clip to accommodate us. This lack of maintenance was something we discovered typified this park, but we were unconcerned.....for us we merely needed a place to lay our heads and do some shopping.




Having said that, however, I must comment that one did not lay one's head here much beyond 0600 hours when the chap cleaning and otherwise attending to the the pool right next door seemed to have elevated unnecessary clatter and racket to an art form. Had we been staying longer, a world or two would have undoubtedly been exchanged.





The ablution block here at the Proserpine Tourist Park housed good facilities, as did the camp kitchen, but here there was a small snag.......it was well outside the park (the kitchen that is).

This was all a touch confusing, but again, did not bother us....we had no need to use it in the short time we were here.








As we had suspected on arrival, the back end of the park caters for some transients, 















but is also the the home to quite a number of 'permanents', many of whom seemed to have boats












which were larger than their vans and annexes.












As with all parks which allow for this class of resident, some arrive with, or develop, a distinctly odd sense of perspective.











Hardly a high risk property I would have thought! 








In summary, we were comfortable enough here (although we harboured no thoughts of making this a park in which to spend the winter), and the park did have the advantage of being with walking distance to the town centre. This came in very handy on our second evening when we treated ourselves to a pub crawl along the main street, and on the recommendation of the staff of the park office, dined cheaply and well at the town's Metropole Hotel. I've not bothered with photos etc. and invite any who are desperate to discover the secrets of Proserpine to refer to my previous blog (August 2012).