Month: August 2024

Day Twenty Two, Three and Four: Middleton to Home

If the Middleton sunsets are outstanding, we’re not sure how to describe the sunrises. Devoid of afternoon haze, the pure morning air bathed in deep orange light punctuated only by the silhouette of a windmill, is Australia at its best.

After enjoying the cool morning air we mounted up to head into Winton to have a look at the new (new to us) Waltzing Matilda Centre. The trip in over a couple of hours was brilliant. With countryside changing almost as often as roos, emus, wild pigs popping up to say g’day, it was never boring.

Arriving at Winton, we fuelled and headed to the centre. After handing over $38 each we entered with great expectations. We had previously visited here a couple of times prior to the old centre succumbing to a fire a few years ago. Back then we loved it for its good Aussie content and authenticity. What it lacked in flashiness was its strong point.

Well if ever there was a case of some loony from the big smoke stuffing up a good thing, this was it. The centre was full of everything but authentic Waltzing Matilda material. At one point we stood with a group of others inside a curtain like structure trying to see a light show about a dust storm. Not only was it almost impossible to see, but it was also obvious the fool who designed it had never had a speck of dust on their boot let alone been in a decent storm! We left extremely disappointed and $76 per couple poorer.

On we went to Longreach. The 175 or so ks was frankly pretty boring. The roads were good, the road trains interesting and that’s about it.

We settled into the Longreach Caravan Park for the afternoon. After a few chores, we were joined by Billy the Brolga who hung around for ages looking for as sucker to give him some food. ‘The Branch’ was our choice for dinner. What a splendid little restaurant this is. With the food making some of the coastal and city offerings look pretty average, we ate heartily. Billy would have loved it.

G and Peter planned to head off reasonably early the next morning, so an early night was in order.

Breakfast was nearly as good as the previous dinner and also at The Branch. By 7.50 they were on the road having said good-byes to Richard and Denise who were staying another day or so.

The plan was to get to Bauhinia Downs on a good run and maybe Moura on a fantastic run. With only one option in Peter’s mind, Panther was instructed that this was not an economy drive. She dug deep from the get-go with the speedo nudging 100 all the way. G-String understood, strapped in tight and clung on.

We flew through Barcaldine and Jericho before fuelling at Alpha. Next stop was Springsure for fuel and lunch. No not just lunch. The worst toasted ham cheese and tomato sandwich and bacon and egg sandwich money could possibly buy. With tomato still cold, cheese not melted and ham next to frozen it was pure hell. We did not have time to whinge for a better offering as Moura was now firmly achievable.

Out of Bauhinia with 76ks to go we were motoring along nicely through some hills. For a second Peter could not make sense of the picture ahead. He could see a van in front and was catching it fast. Way too fast. Then all become deadly clear. What he could see was the top of a van on the other side of the crest but could not see the tow vehicle, for it was much lower. The entire unit was coming directly at us on the wrong side of the road, overtaking over the crest of the hill, and fast.

Panther buried into the bitumen under hard brakes as Peter jagged left the few feet available before a ditch spelled major crash. G-String all but disappeared into the rear of Panther with the full expectation she would leave some significant skid marks. The car being overtaken managed some braking and a sidestep left to allow just enough room for the idiot in his 79 series ute, towing a dual axle van, to angle between us at speed.

It’s not often Peter or G get flustered on the road. This one was different. It was close. Really close! And to rub salt into the wound, old mate in his 79 gave us a friendly wave. Not an ‘I’m sorry I almost killed you’ wave, rather a ‘how are you mate’ wave. He was lucky we had nowhere to turn around for he would have found his lodgings for the night included a hard bench to sleep on and an iron gate for a door.

Not long after we came up behind a road train hauling cotton. Initially Peter was trying to figure out how to get around him to keep the average up. It was not necessary. We will never know what engine was in that thing but once he had seen us he parked his right foot against the firewall and motored. Only one hill of mountainous proportions slowed him down. All others we just bumps in the road as his speed matched ours easily. It was entertainment plus.

Moura for the night in the Apex park was a treat. Just us and a few others in a huge paddock for a donation of $5 each. Adding to the experience was a decent sunset and an all-night symphony of V8 79 series Toyotas accelerating out of the mining camp opposite! What’s not to like?

Moura to home was uneventful save a stop at Kilkivan to have lunch and catch up with our good friend Katie. With G-String parked up we reversed into the home garage with a sense of relief. Our experience with our good friends had been amazing. We had loved re-visiting the country we hold dear to re-kindle memories and make a few more.

Bring on the next adventure.

Day Twenty and Twenty-One: Around Mt Isa and Mt Isa to Middleton

This one is best kept short to let the pictures do the talking.

Friday was spent in and around Mt Isa. Highlights included an underground mine tour for Denise and Richard, although it was not quite the real thing, and a visit to the Granites for our whole group, including Emma our tour guide.

We could go on about it, but at the end of the day the granites are mesmerising rock formations just south of Mt Isa that take on spectacular colours at sunset.

After a Buffs Club feed, we took a couple of night photos of the famed Mt Isa mine then hit the hay.

Saturday was the almost 500 km drive from Mt Isa to Middleton Pub via Dajarra and Boulia. Dajarra held us up for about half an hour as we had a coffee and a chat to a couple of the locals Peter and Genevieve knew many years ago when they lived there.

We reached Boulia 300km after leaving and after trying in unsuccessfully to get a good picture of a wedgetail eagle. The eagles out this way are massive majestic creatures. They have absolutely no trust in a car and caravan pulling up nearby so make their way for the nearest tree as quick as possible.

At Boulia we said our goodbyes to Ron and Julie for they were heading to Birdsville. The last 200 km to Middleton was a drag however the changing countryside made for a quality drive despite the inherent lack of anything but elusive eagles, cattle and spinifex. The Middleton Hotel however was at its best. Great food and a sunset to die for.

Day Eighteen and Nineteen: Normanton to Mt Isa.

Waking up to a Normanton sunrise will go down pretty well on the list of top eight things to do at Normanton. Freshly cool, we noticed there were no croc drag marks on the ground near our vans and that the tyres were all tooth mark free.

Peter and G headed into town to the tin shed marked up as the best coffee shop in town. Perhaps this was an historic site, for although the blackboards outside told of amazing coffee and other associated treats, there was no one at home. Finally after 6.3 laps to the main street they located a little gold mine.

The arguably tumbled down, let’s say, weathered with memories, Central Hotel, was serving fantastic coffee, quality tea and a really decent bacon and egg muffin. Our thanks go out to the greedy lady before us who bought all the pre-made offerings meaning ours were fresh from the pig and chook.

A look around revealed the hotel apparently served drinks, hot food, good times and as a special treat, an impending table tennis tournament. Briefly we imagined the honour of holding the Far Northwest Qld doubles championship title, however thought others with greater skill may be more likely to take out that coveted prize.

Whilst breakfasting we noticed a high-vis man taking pics of Panther and G-String parked in a side street. Briefly, as the car was impinging on a white line just a bit, Peter thought it may be the Far North Qld Parking Police setting the scene prior an expected influx for the big tournament, but it turned out to be a fellow Landrover lover having never seen a Discovery towing a van this far away for a mechanic before. We chatted all things Landrover, shared our travel website address, and went our separate ways.

After a bit our full crew gathered before heading ever south towards the Burke and Wills Roadhouse, then Cloncurry. With no towns in between, the first almost 200km was filled with listening to music on its 43^rd cycle around the clock from our limited selection and avoiding ballistic missiles approaching from behind.

It may have been that Peter had not looked in his mirror for a bit too long, or it may have been his head was just in a fully relaxed position up his backside, but his instruction to G was clear. “Can you call that bloke behind us on the radio and ask if he wants to come past.” I’ll pull off if he does. Peter had seen a car behind them that in his mind had approached quickly and looked as if it need to get to its destination with more haste than he.

“That car behind the Zone caravan. If you are on the radio, do you want to get past?” Silence. Then from Richard, “Was that you Gen?” “Just calling the car behind the Zone, do you want to come past?” G replied.

The mirth in Richards voice could hardly be contained; “That’s us.” It would appear that Peter had mistaken Richard and Denise’s car and van for a sedan in the mirror despite the fact they had been there for nearly 120km.  Needless to say Peter learnt for some kilometres, without much credible defence, what and idiot he was.

We stopped at Burke and Wills Roadhouse after a couple of hours for a bite, pee and a go at the defibrillator after seeing the fuel price. We noticed that Australian staff, as at most outback service businesses, were few and far between, with an Asian-Canadian lass travelling lite, or least without her bra as she wobbled her way out to serve our pies.

Headed south again we made good time to Cloncurry, passing through Quamby, noting the pub was for sale. Fuelled up, we did the 50 or so km to Corella Dam, our destination for the night.

The site selection process took on new heights, depths and lengths this day. Finally after about half an hour we settled right beside the lake in a next to perfect spot. Denise whipped up a spanking cheese platter whilst Richard set a magnificent fire. Our day was completed with a sunset over the lake.

Rising not too early we mounted up and headed into Mt Isa. The road in, having been travelled way too many times over the years, is still picturesque. We dropped into the old Mary Kathleen township that used to service the Mary Kathleen uranium mine. What is left is not much but concrete slabs. The visit was definitely worth it however, to understand what a bustling community this once was. Leaving the area glowing with information, we arrived shortly after in the big city. Upon entry, not more than 326 metres from the town limits, there it was. That bloody resplendent Coffee Van!!. We are truly haunted.

Going largely our separate ways to do house keeping things, we spent the afternoon reacquainting ourselves with where things were in the town. As often happens, we met a police officer we knew from 20 odd years ago and chatted for a while.

Richard and Denise caught up with Richard’s daughter, Emma, at the famed Buffs Club as did Peter and G.

Our afternoon back at the van was relaxed looking at the changing reds upon the huge rock behind the van park as the sun said good-bye to another day.