Despite the odd grain carrying B-Triple road train threatening to slide into bed between us, the night in the middle of the bush was peaceful and without drama worthy of A Current Affair.
Morning wasn’t welcomed with much zest leading to us finally heading towards Monte Cristo about 9.30am. As alluring as the name sounds ‘the Cristo’ turned out to be naught but the intersection of two major roads. Still we can now boost our stocks at a BBQ by nonchalantly mentioning the day we travelled to Monte. (That’s what us locals call it).
Goondiwindi was as Goondiwindi is. Frankly a really decent, vibrant large country town that welcomes visitors. G, as always, boosted the western economy by visiting at least seven shops for stuff we desperately needed and could not do without.
After coffee and better than decent scones we headed towards Texas. After heading towards Texas we did a u-turn in NSW and headed back towards Texas. First however we dropped into a weird metallic art set up on the side of the road just east of Gundi. Obviously some people have an over-abundance of skill and an equal measure of time to produce these structures. The results are quizzical and entertaining at the same time.
At stop at Yelarbon to photograph the painted silos followed. These are magic. We wondered a very long wonder as to how the artist mega-sized a small picture to its current dominant size. There is obviously some vision involved there. And a ship load of paint.
Inglewood was next, producing the worst pie of the trip. Soft, soggy and doughy it barely left the brown paper packet before it back flipped into the nearest bin. The rest of the town was spectacular. The entire town was freshly mown. Not a piece of rubbish to be seen and toilets that were not the makings of nightmares.
Texas. Yes not only have we been to Monte Cristo, but we have also been to Texas. Seasoned international travellers no doubt. Unlike the USA equivalent, this Texas was small, tidy and a place we will definitely spend more time in on another trip.
The road from Texas to Stanthorpe was a cracker. It climbed, twisted, turned, folded back, dropped into causeways and was plain fun to drive. Panther dug deep; really deep on some of the long hills. Steep and unrelenting they stretched the elastic between the black beast and G-String. Peter thought long and hard about how wonderful this road would be on a motorbike ridden with vigour. Vigour until the multiple signs warning of people being killed from animal strikes hit home. Fifteen in five years apparently. Three per year……..calculating the odds.
We ambled into Stanthorpe about threeish or a bit after and dutifully slowed for the school kids to cross the road to meet their lovely parents who dutifully parked in the No Standing Zones to pick up the little darlings. Our van park at the top of town advertised they were a 20 minute walk to town. After driving the long way out to it we were not sure which town they were referring too, but it wasn’t Stanthorpe.
We settled in. Peter met the Dashhound in desperate need of a date with Jenny Craig stationed within patting distance behind our van. The dog was just lovely. The owner a step to the weird side of just lovely. All was good in the granite belt world.
An hour or so later we went for a walk in the opposite direction to town happening upon a dead end near the show grounds, another dead end near the new housing estate and a hundred or so of the little school kids trying to kick a soccer ball. One such future star had the whole delayed reaction thing going on in the goal mouth. The ball would fly past and without fail the goalie would give no reaction at all until the ball hit the back of the net. At that exact point she would launch her substantial girth horizontally in an attempt to save a certain goal. You pay good money for entertainment like that at the Ekka!
G is still recovering from Peter cooking pork chops for dinner. Not that the chops were off or anything. Just the fact that Peter cooked. Tomorrow looks like a trip to Girraween National Park is on the cards unless Stanthorpe turns on the now very late cold snap.