Today was meant to be just another scoot day. Destined to be 750 kilometres of not very much at all. Travel sometimes has its own ideas. It’s these times that makes it such an alluring attraction. Today was such a day.
The chilled air of Roma at 7am did nothing to boost ourspirits, but we knew that getting a few kilometres under the belt early was the secret to covering a decent distance in a day. We set sail for breakfast at Morven. Here we encountered the first of very many road trains that rule the west. It is difficult not to admire the drivers of these beasts as they keep three seemingly uncooperative trailers, travelling in generally the same direction, on a strip bitumen but a few meters wide.
Whilst admiring one such beast parked opposite the Morven truck stop, Peter decided to take a photo of Puma lined up beside the bigger version; just for comparison sake. Photo taken, Peter jumped back in the car and we headed off with Peter’s favourite cold weather jacket on the roof. Arriving at Windorah many hours later, we concluded that there would be a very warm roo somewhere near Charleville tonight! The favoured jacket was nowhere to be seen.
Trust is an amazing thing. There is a massive difference between country people and city folk where trust is concerned. Whilst at Morven, Peter called the manager of the Windorah Hotel, just to let them know we would be in late in the afternoon and that we still wanted our pre-booked room. With the necessities out of the way, Merilyn asked “you can’t pick up some meat in Quilpie for me can you and bring it out? The butcher missed the truck and there is not another one for two weeks.”
Into Quilpie we went. Grabbed a coffee, were met by the owner of the café who turned out to be someone both Peter and G worked within Mackay, then headed to the butcher. Imagine entering a butcher shop in Brisbane and announcing, “I’m Peter Flanders, you should have some meat for Merilyn at the Windorah Hotel”, and being met with a friendly, “no worries, I’ve just got to get the sausages packed.” Then being handed four big boxes of fresh meat to take a few hundred kilometres west to someone you have never met with not a cent being exchanged!
You have to love that this form of human decency still exists.
The rest of the day was pretty ho hum, save having a bit of fun heading bush to avoid road trains in an effort to give the big guys the entire road to play with. We did try to photograph a huge eagle, but those in the know will realise their level of awareness is such that they are long gone before focus begins.
Windorah greeted us with the long-standing solar farm and a bit of new artwork. The pub was a pub without locals funnily enough.
Half-way through dinner the barman came to our table and said “the boss told me to give you a couple of rounds of drinks for bringing the meat out, but I forgot.” You had better come and get some more. Now there is only so much Coke a man can drink, G was already on her second wine, so we copped out. Although there wasn’t, if there had been the offer of a room upgrade that would have fallen flat as well. We already had the flashiest donger in the Barcoo Shire. We were destined to just be good Samaritans.
I’m surprised you had room for the extra boxes of meat! At least it was your jacket and not the phone! A shout out on the 2 way may have found it. You might find it on the way home!
I wondered the same thing. How did you fit the boxes in? Did Gen have to sit on them?