The Tent, The Trailer, The Caravan

Tag: nature

  • Day 24-25 – Mount Gambier

    Day 24-25 – Mount Gambier

    We left Kingston SE and headed for Mount Gambier, stopping off for a coffee in Robe.  Robe is very pretty, much bigger than Kingston and far more touristy. According to the guy who was sitting next to me at the Supercars, you can get an excellent fish chowder in Robe.   No time to seek that out since we were just passing through, and definitely not something I would seek out for breakfast.

    We arrived in Mount Gambier and our GPS took us to the Pine Country Caravan Park and thanks to its convoluted directions, it felt like we must be out in the boondocks somewhere.  Nonetheless, the park is a very pretty one with drive-through, lushly grassed sites. As soon as we set up, we set off to find Mount Gambier’s famous Blue Lake, and discovered it was about a kilometre away, just over the hill.

    Now,  I knew there was a Blue Lake at Mount Gambier, obviously. It’s the reason we decided to have a stop over here, and of course I have seen photos of it heaps of times.  But I don’t think anything can prepare you for the first glimpse of it.  It really takes your breath away and the blue is mesmerising.  There is a road that goes right around the top, and I really don’t understand how there aren’t constantly accidents, because it is hard to keep your eyes on the road. 

    Thankfully, the city of Mount Gambier has made several places where you can stop and take it all in.  One of these features a little turret made of stone which is at the end of walking path which follows a man-made rock wall.  What is amazing about both these structures is that they were built by volunteers  – seven hundred of them, including school children!  These days you’d be flat out getting a dozen people to a working bee at their kids’ soccer club, but such is the pride of the townsfolk for this lake. 

    Nearby is an obelisk dedicated to the poet Adam Lindsay Gordon.  He was not born in Mount Gambier, nor did he die in Mount Gambier, but apparently at one time he was riding a horse and he leapt over the barricade, landing on a narrow ledge and then jumping back over again.  Kind of a “Man from Snowy River” stunt, except Banjo Paterson hadn’t invented him yet. Once you see the sheer cliffs surrounding the lake, you can appreciate how impressive a feat this was.  Obelisk-worthy at the very least. 

    Further along is another viewing platform which appears to be commandeered by lovers, judging by the number of locks which adorn the fence.  It just like they do to bridges in Paris – or in Neighbours where countless couples proclaim their love down by the brown sludge that is Lassiter’s Lake.  

    The idea of course is that you get a padlock, etch your name and that of your true love onto the lock, affix it to the fence and throw away the key, symbolising your everlasting love.  By that logic, the bottom of Blue Lake must be littered with keys.  I must say though, there were a number of couples who had combination locks and if my bloke turned up with one of those, I don’t think I’d be sticking around. Clearly he has commitment issues.

    Blue Lake is located in a volcanic crater, but what struck me about this is that the volcano last erupted only four and a half thousand years ago.  I say only, because Australia is home to the world’s oldest living culture – around sixty thousand years old – which means that there were people here for the life, and death of that volcano, and the gradual formation of the lake.  Of course, I know that people live around volcanoes, but I guess because you typically don’t think of Australia as being a land of fire in that sense, it makes my brain hurt a little bit thinking about it.  I am sure the Boandik peoples, the traditional custodians, have stories about it all, but that will have to wait for another visit. I’m sure we will be back to Mount Gambier one day, because if I heard Mark say, “Mount Gambier delivers” one more time, I think I was going to throttle him.

    On the other side of the hill there is a second lake – Valley Lake.  This one isn’t blue, but you can swim in it, as long as you pay heed to the “Danger: Deep Mud” signs.  There is a section with a little beach which must be incredibly popular during the summer months. A third lake – Brown Lake – no longer has any water in it, but this is now beautiful parklands, complete with a frisbee golf course.

    Now if you really want to get a great vantage of not just the lakes, but the city and the farmland beyond, then a hike up to Centenary Tower is a must. My dodgy knees got me half-way up the hill, where there is a conveniently placed bench, making me think that there are a few dodgy knees that attempt the the trek.  Mark got all the way up to the base of the tower.  He didn’t need it, but a defibrillator was there if he had !  Actually, there are defibrillators all over the place in South Australia, so it must be some sort of government regulation.

    Not only does Mount Gambier have the lakes, but the past volcanic activity has left the landscape dotted with caves and sinkholes.  If you go to the tourist information centre, they will point you in the direction of the Umpherston Sinkhole, so most people visit this one first.  I would not recommend this, because no other sinkhole will compare!  I recommend visiting Cave Garden first. It is located smack bang in the middle of the city centre, right next to the Riddoch Arts and Cultural Centre.  The gardens are beautiful, designed in the style of the 1920s with rose gardens mixed with natives. Then you meander down the path and look down and you go “Oh my God!  Look at that sink hole!” And then you will probably notice the rubbish that accumulates at the bottom and wonder how often some poor council worker has to abseil down there and clean it out.

    There is also this statue that has been commissioned by the council. It’s supposed to represent, “the natural history of the Limestone Coast…palaeontological megafauna , and prehistoric marsupials…”:

    Got it.

    The Umpherston Sinkhole is located on the way out of town, just past the race-course and is surrounded by the sawmill.  Sounds lovely, doesn’t it?  But in the midst of all of piles of lumber, lies yet another gorgeous park, and in the centre of that is the sinkhole.  Wow.  Wow. Wow.

    Now apart from its geological history, there is a social history as well which started when James Umpherson bought the land that the sinkhole is now on.  At the time a third of the bottom was filled with water, so he had the grand idea of developing it into a garden for the enjoyment of his extended family, so he built terraces and planted flowers and even put a rowboat down there.   After he died, the property went through several hands before being acquired by the sawmill.  The gardens were left to become overgrown and Umpherson’s Victorian house was demolished in 1964. Then, in the 1970s, someone had the idea to restore the gardens, and a group made up of the sawmill’s social club got to it, volunteering their labour.  The sometime in the 1990s, the Mount Gambier Council took it over and now the sinkhole, its terraced gardens of hydrangeas and fuchsia, palm trees and ivy – in Victorian style – are public gardens for all to enjoy for free.  The gardens are also literally a hive for bees, who have made their homes in the nooks and crannies of the sinkhole wall, and apparently in the evening you can hand feed to possums, who also make the gardens their home.  It really is hard to describe, but it’s breathtaking,

    There are other caves and sinkholes around, but again we were limited for time in Mount Gambier, so we decided to take a drive out to Port Mac Donnell (according to the green road sign), Port MacDonnell (according to the Regional Visitor’s Guide) or Port Macdonnell (according to our map).  It’s only about a twenty-five-minute drive from Mount Gambier.  On the way you pass Mount Schank, another volcanic crater, and the Allenton sink hole which is literally in the middle of the highway (and only accessible to lunatic cave divers by special permit – no thanks!)

    Port MacDonnell is the most southerly point in the state of South Australia and what I would consider to be the start of the shipwreck coast. 

    While the harbour itself is calm (just as well, as it is home to the largest lobster fishing fleet in South Australia), and there is a long stretch of beach, as you drive out toward the lighthouse, the limestone outcrops are rugged and harsh and the sea angrily throws waves up against them.  And the wind!  I really felt like I was going to be blown into the ocean!

    We stopped in for a toasted sanga for a late lunch and then drove back to Mount Gambier.  We made one more stop over at yet another sinkhole, Little Blue Lake – a popular swimming hole with locals, with a water temperature which is constantly about twelve degrees all year round. I’m not sure why it’s called Little Blue Lake.  Maybe it’s because the water is a little bit blue – like on a cloudless day and if you squint.  Or maybe it’s because if you swim in it you come out a little bit blue with teeth chattering from the constant 12 degree water.

    And just like that, our day and a half in Mount Gambier was done.  And I didn’t even get a chance to go to the coffee shop run by Supercars rookie Kai Allen’s family, because it closes at 1:00 pm.  Mind you, we did drive past it, and it looked a little bit too fancy for me anyway.  Maybe next time, when I remember to pack something other than thongs or ugg boots.

  • Days 16-22 – Adelaide!

    It’s a big one – there will be typos.

    We have just finished our week in Adelaide.  It was the first time here for both of us, and one thing I have learnt is that a week is not enough time in Adelaide, especially when two of them are dedicated to the Supercars final (more about that later).

    We didn’t even have time to visit Elizabeth to see how bad of a shit hole it is. Now, to be fair to this satellite suburb of Adelaide, named for our late Queen, I only hold this image of Elizabeth because I read Jimmy Barnes’ autobiography, Working Class Boy, and he did not paint a pretty picture of it.  I recall him saying in the book that he was lucky to survive his teens for fear of being killed by rivals hanging around the shopping centre.  And I’m sure that the town has changed since it first ‘welcomed’ all the ten-pound-poms in the 1960’s, but on the third day we were in Adelaide the Elizabeth shopping centre was locked down when two teenagers were stabbed in broad daylight…so there you go.

    Anyway, we arrived on Monday and checked onto our caravan park, the Discovery at Semaphore Beach.  It is a tidy little park, close to everything you would need, with gate access directly to the beach.  We promptly set up the awning, complete with our whizz-bang ant-flap kit  and set off to explore Semaphore.  What I found incongruous for a beachside suburb was that all the houses directly opposite the beach are these amazing 19th century, sandstone mansions, complete with fireplaces, and I love that this history has been preserved.  The beach heritage of the Sunshine Coast is ore about fibro beach shacks, and scarcely any of them remain.  Whenever I drive long the Maroochy River I feel sad that not one of these has been heritage-listed.  I know, there’s the asbestos issue, but… you know…history.

    The beach front is also dominated by some larger buildings like the lighthouse, now in a park, which you can go into for $29.  Sorry, we have been spoilt by Hay, so we just looked at it from the outside, and then promptly forgot to go back and take a picture of it.  There is also the very grand Largs Hotel, and the Pavilion.  The latter was opened in 1922 and is the only “building” on the beach side of the road.  Originally it housed a swimming pavilion that could cater for 500 swimmers, and a ballroom (which I think is still there as a less grand function room) but now boasts a café, bar and bistro looking straight out to Antarctica.

    Once we got our bearings about where the sun was going to set, we went back down to the beach in the evening to attempt photos of the sun setting over the Semaphore Jetty.  Now of course, early evening means about 7:45 pm, with the sun not actually going down until an hour later, because Adelaide engages in daylight saving, which totally threw my body clock out because I could never figure out when to eat my evening meal, because the sun wasn’t going down early enough. And yes, I am one of those Queenslanders who will always vote no to any poll about it, because unless you have been living in far western Queensland with summer days that reach into the mid-forties and where the sun already sets later than in the south-east corner, I don’t think you should even be entitled to a say.

    Anyway, I digress.

    While we were down at the beach the wind started to pick up, and by about 10:00 pm the anti-flap kit was struggling, so we pulled the awning down rather than risk damage, and that was the last time we used the awning for the rest of the week, because the wind did not let up.  We met a lady who had been staying there for a month, and she said the wind had been relentless the whole time, so although the park was quite lovely, if we ever go back to Adelaide, we won’t be staying there again.

    On our second day we drove into the city. Again we were greeted by magnificently preserved sandstone buildings dating back a century-and-a-half, including the beautiful University of South Australia, some commercial buildings, a lot of pubs, and of course, since it is known as the city of them – the churches.  According to Google, there are 529 churches in Adelaide, and I reckon during the course of our week we drove past all 863 of them. They are everywhere, and for the most part they are beautiful.  What is incredibly impressive about all of these heritage buildings is remembering that South Australia did not have convicts, therefore no free labour. I think South Australians are very proud of their city, and they have every right to be.  Not only are there the buildings, but the entire city centre is surrounded (literally – take a look at a satellite pic) by parkland, which not only contains the spread of the CBD, but also led to the development of satellite town/suburbs, beyond the gardens, and each of those has an identity of its own.  Yes, there are more than a million people in greater Adelaide, so there are still issues like busy, congested roads, but for the most part, I say, “Well done, Adelaide!”

    No visit to the CBD would be complete without a visit to Rundle Mall and a quick snap in front of its iconic balls – so tick – but after a quick coffee catch-up with our mate, Pete, who is halfway through a work contract down here, we had to head back to Semaphore as we had booked lunch at the Palais – because there was something alluring about having lunch and looking out over the Great Southern Ocean.  Unfortunately, while the lunch was delicious, the Palais was undergoing renovations, so we couldn’t sit out on the deck, and the bistro is in what was once the downstairs bathing pavilion, so even though we could see the ocean, it did feel a little sub-terranean.

    On Wednesday, we headed off to the German town in the Adelaide Hills – Hahndorf.  For Sunshine Coasters, I guess Hahndorf is like Montville or Flaxton – on steroids.  Like, Montville has a cuckoo clock shop.  Hahndorf has a cuckoo clock shop where you think they might actually sell the odd cuckoo clock.  Because we were there mid-week, it was a little bit quieter than it apparently gets on the weekends.  It would have been even quieter if not for the couple of busloads of school kids who were there on a German excursion.  Yeah, right.  They were likely to use about as much German in Hahndorf as your average middle-aged English tourist does on a trip to Ibiza.  I mean, we ordered apple strudel from the German Inn, and both the guy behind the bar and the waitress were Sri Lankan.  But hey…the kids had a worksheet in their hands, and a very minimal teacher presence, so I guess they were having a blast.

    We had lunch at the German Arms – Mark tried the German sausage combo.  I had a smoked pork chop, and also impressed Mark by drawing on some old high-school maths to figure out that it was much better economy to by two small wines rather than one big one (more mls, less money), and even better economy than buying a bottle!

    After lunch we made our way back down the hill.  The freeway here has not one, but two, ‘ramps’ leading off the road in case trucks go out of control – lose the breaks and can’t stop.  Of course, this just makes me wonder how many rogue trucks necessitated to construction of these, how many times they have been used since construction, and which of the trucks surrounding us were likely to need them that day (or worse – I have seen Stephen Spielberg’s early classic, Duel starring Dennis Weaver, a truck and a pair of hands). I also notice that the motor way also had a detection system for over-height vehicles.  One wonders why the Queensland government hasn’t managed to install something like that at that notorious bridge in Rocklea.  Having said that, we were on our way to the Port Adelaide shopping centre and passed a truck being attended to by a tow truck.  The truck’s roof was peeled and collapsed, and there were tell-tale scars on the nearby railway bridge and associated rubble on the road.  I guess you just can’t always account for people’s stupidity.

    On Thursday, we back-tracked to Nuriootpa which we had planned to visit the Sunday before, but I had been tardy in booking our accommodation there and did the wine tour out of Gawler instead. We picked up our friend, Velvet, and headed off to Maggie Beer’s Farm Shop and Eatery.  I love Maggie – she is such an icon and always seems so warm and lovely, that I knew I couldn’t go to the Barossa and not go there.  Of course, I knew she wouldn’t be there herself, but it’s like a culinary pilgrimage in this country. 

    This was one of the signature things that we had planned for this trip, and we indulged on the five course feast lunch accompanied by a bottle of Barossa rose for Velvet and I and some fancy-schmancy juices for Mark. Every morsel of that meal was DIVINE, from the bread to the chutney and crisps to finish. Even the goat’s cheese in the mushroom pasta was delectable, even though this is the top of my overrated food lists (or things that people say they like just to be pretentious twats)  I now want to try to perfect my own grapefruit semi-freddo, knowing that whatever I manage will never be a patch on our Maggie’s!  Even better, because this meal was smaller portions, spaced out, I managed to eat five courses and simply feel happily sated, and not just one course from a German pub that made we want to nap for the rest of the arvo.

    There was just one unexpected thing about the whole eatery experience:

    I guess we’re only supposed to concentration on what’s on top of the plate!

    Upon our return from Nuri (as the locals call it – apparently because they struggle to pronounce it too), we met up with Pete at ONE of his local pubs, the Sussex at Walkerville.  We got a bit lost, courtesy of our dodgy GPS, but at least now Velvet knows where to find the headquarters of transport company Linfox, and she returned the favour by pointing out the block of flats where a guy had been murdered earlier in the year. Did I mention that Adelaide has more churches per capita than any other capital city, but also the most serial killers?  Actually, all over the Adelaide news this week was the story about the only bloke convicted in connection with the so-called “Family” murders in the 1980s.  He’s on his deathbed and the police are hoping that he will give up all his secrets before he falls off his mortal coil.

    Anyway, back to the Sussex, a recently renovated old pub, which was super busy for a Thursday with couples in the lounge bar, and families having dinner in the beer garden (which has a section with a fire pit).  But the thing that most impressed me is that on Mondays, the Sussex does a fondue special!  The most disappointing thing – it was Thursday.

    Then  it was back to Pete and Velvet’s Adelaide digs for a a night cap, before making the drive back to Semaphore Beach. An awesome day.

    Friday greeted us with cold weather and rain.  Our plan had been to go to the Adelaide Oval to watch the WBBL game between the Brisbane Heat and the Sydney Sixes as one of Connor’s teammates from their junior soccer days is contracted to the Heat. But Micky had messaged us on the Thursday night that at that stage she would be carrying the drinks, so when the rain greeted us in the morning, we decided to pull the pin.   As it turned out the game was abandoned without a ball being bowled. 

    And then sometimes, when you have been on the road for almost three weeks, a cold rainy day is not a bad thing. We caught up on our washing – I discovered that our little caravan washing machine can cope with a queen bed sheet, two pillow cases and a couple of T shirts in one hit, so I did a couple of loads and then just chucked it all in the caravan park’s Maybig, and we watched Brodie Kostecki win $50 000 in the sprint race of the Supercars.  We gave the van a good sweep and a general tidy, and just generally recharged the batteries.

    Saturday loomed large because it was Supercars day!  There had already been two days of action down at the track, but our intention had only ever been to go for the final two days. Getting from way out at Semaphore Beach to the track was super easy.  We parked the car at the Glanville train station, about five-minute drive from the caravan park.  Then we hopped on a train to Adelaide Station, then walked straight out the door onto a free shuttle bus, walked 50 metres to the gate, probably another 50 to our seats in the Brabham Stand and we were set for the day – in under an hour. Pete and Velvet joined us, and although their seats were technically a few rows back, they decided to sit with us until the real owners of those seats turned up, but they never did (neither day).

    On Sunday, it was the same thing, but the Sunday at the Supercars was a little bit special.  Firstly, three drivers – Nick Percat, Will Davison and Snowy River Caravan sponsored James Courtney (who we still ‘blame’ for our van) – were retiring after long careers, not only here, but overseas. Secondly, this year there was change to the way that the Driver’s Championship was decided,  I don’t want to bore any non-Supercar fans who have managed to stay with this blog this long, but there were only four drivers in the field of 25 who could win the title, and realistically, it came back to only two.  Now while some people follow a brand, I follow drivers. While my favourite driver was out of contention, two of my other favourites were battling it out.  I wanted Chaz Mostert to win because he had never one after 12 seasons, and I wanted Broc Feeney to win, because at 21 years of age, he is a driving talent and a lovely young man – and had won more races and pole positions than anyone else in the 2025 season.

     On the first lap, Chaz’s driving partner Ryan Wood got tangled up with Broc Feeney, spinning Broc around and pushing him to the back of the field. This caused great controversy as many of Broc’s fans believed that Ryan had done this deliberately to help Chaz.  I thought it was just a racing incident. Broc started to charge back through the field, but then his engine started failing, and he ended up losing all the gain he had made, even being lapped by most of the field.  Chaz finished second in the race behind Matt Payne, but this was enough for him to win the Championship.  I have never been so elated, and so deflated at the same time, and I think a lot of people felt the same way.

    After the race we bid our farewells to Peter and Velvet, having had a great time with our friends of almost forty years. We returned to Semaphore Beach, sad that we were leaving Adelaide, but also sad in realising this was the turning point, because although we still have three weeks on the road, now we are heading home, and although we have missed everyone there, we have really loved our little taste of life on the road.

    Also, we have to go back to Adelaide, because although seeing 1892 churches, we didn’t take a photo of a single one.

  • Day 12 – Overland Corner

    I have that it would be great if everyone could make a trip to Uluru once in their lifetime because it really can’t be appreciated just from pictures.  For me, visiting Uluru was probably the closest I have ever come to having a spiritual experience, and I felt that for the first time I understood the connection the aboriginal people have to the land.

    I am going to add another experience to that list.  I feel that everyone should, at least once, camp by the banks of the Murray River, preferably without too many other people around.  They should sit back and appreciate this river, not because it is a mile wide, like America’s Mississippi, but more because it isn’t.  As you sit by the banks of this river, river gums clutching to its banks, pelicans gliding silently on its surface, with the usual cacophony of corellas in the background, you need to appreciate that this riverand its tributaries is very much the lifeblood of this country as it meanders through the driest state on the driest country on Earth.  I certainly found myself appreciating what this river gives to agriculture and livelihoods in this country, and why managing it is so very important for our environment, our economy and our heritage.

    Wow.  I did get all philosophical there for a minute, didn’t i? 

    Day 12 of our adventure and we have finally made it into South Australia. The excitement of crossing through the fruit quarantine station was almost as exciting as realising that our fridge has a special latch to help keep it from flying open on bumpy roads.  We simply had never noticed it before, but the quarantine guy, who spends all day opening caravan fridges searching for contraband melons, simply closed the door and engaged the special latch, just as a matter of course.  Thanks Quarantine guy!

    After a brief stop in Renmark for a very average coffee, dry jam doughnut and equally dry sausage roll, we headed about 35 kilometres out of town to Overland Crossing, our free camp by the Murray.  If I had known more about this spot, we probably would have stayed longer, although the threat of rain was making Mark a little nervous about being able to get out through the mud (there are worse problems in life!).

    Apart from the river, the main reason anyone would come to Overland Crossing is for the hotel.  Established in 1859, it is one of the oldest buildings in South Australia.  It has a fabulous beer garden, a quirky museum-like interior and the biggest beef schnitzels I have ever set eyes upon. We should have known something when the lady at the table next to us came prepared with her own Tupperware containers.  “We’re local,” she said.  For the rest of us fly-by-nighters, the meal came with a couple of sheets of Alfoil for you to wrap your leftovers in. (Note: our beef schnitzels fed us that night and two days’ worth of lunch to follow).  There is also space for camping right behind the pub, but with the river only 700 metres away, why would you?  You can also have a camp fire by the river, but with this stupid daylight savings nonsense it’s not really worth it.  By the time the sun goes down and you can appreciate the fire, it’s time to go to bed. Well, at least that’s the case if you are only staying one night in November.

    Fire or no fire, I can thoroughly recommend this little detour from the highway.

  • Days 4-6 Dubbo

    When I was at uni – a million years ago – I studied a subject call Science, Technology and the Modern Industrial State.  It was actual a cross-over for me from the Arts Faculty into Science.  It was more of a history subject than a science one, which meant I loved it, probably for the same reasons that most of the science students I knew (and for whom it was compulsory), hated it.  Anyway, in the years that have passed, I have forgotten most of what was specifically taught in that course, but I do remember the lecturer saying that you can tell that a city is prosperous by the number of cranes on the skyline.  I can’t see a crane without thinking about this.  I used to think about it when the Sunshine Coast University Hospital was under construction and I think one day I counted seven cranes on that project alone. I can’t drive into Brisbane without counting cranes (and in the lead-up to the Olympics, I expect this will drive me mental!)

    Where I did not expect to see cranes was Dubbo.  Yet as we drove in to the town centre, there was not one, but two of them, and one of them was attached to the first “high-rise” we had seen in a country town since we left Toowoomba (and there weren’t that many there).  Not only that, but one of them was attached to a ten-storey residential building!  This, combined with the very small number of empty shops on the main street makes me think that Dubbo is doing OK. It also has a huge social club called Club Dubbo, where I think they missed a great opportunity to call “Clubbo”, but I that may be why I am not iin charge of naming things

    Of course, Dubbo is a pretty major regional centre, and the number of caravan parks and motor inns (on incongruously called the Abel Tasman Motor Inn, complete with artwork of his olde shippe, like he was a noted citizen of the western plains!) are proof of its appeal to tourists – us included – and the number one draw card is undoubtedly Taronga Westen Plains Zoo.  Although we technically had two days in Dubbo, we (which really means me), had to do some washing and even though we had only been on the road five days, all of that seemed to be spent eating, so we needed a day to…digest.  So, we decided to concentrate on the zoo, and save other attractions like the gaol, and the caves for another visit.

    Now I’m not going to lie, I have always envisaged Dubbo’s Western Plains Zoo to be a vast sprawling affair taking up most of the western plains. In my mind’s eye, I saw lions roaming these vast plains, hunting zebra and bongos and various exotic antelope species and being trampled by the odd elephant. Maybe somewhere there would be a Jurassic-style electric fence to keep them all in, but it would be so far in the distance that neither you, nor the animals were ware of it, and the tourists would be guided around in open-sided Jeeps, taking their lives into their own hands, lest a lioness leap from her camouflage in the grass.   I thought it would be the closest thing that animals got to being in Africa, except in Dubbo.

    So I have to say I was a little bit disappointed to find that it was about one kilometre away from the caravan park we were staying in, and that from the inside of the zoo, in parts, you can look across the enclosures to see the busy Newell Highway, and a brand new sparkling retirement village (another new build – even without cranes!)

    Having said that, it is a lovely zoo and very user friendly.  It is all organised around a roughly six-kilometre track which you can walk around, or drive in your own car and park near the various exhibits. Another option is to hire an electric cart – something a bit more “industrial” (read – no electric steering) than your average golf buggy.  We opted for this, because there is something to be said about the open sides of the buggy.  You feel closer to the action.  Mind you, the animals still totally ignore you unless they think they are about to be fed, many go so far as to stand in the farthest corner of their enclosure with their backsides facing you, and some just stay in their dens because they are nocturnal and aren’t getting out of bed for anyone!  (Hint: the giraffes get carrots at 10:00 am, so there are plenty milling around the fence from about 9:30!) The path is one-way, but you can go around it as many times as you need and I think this is very sensible, especially on weekends and public holidays when the zoo is very busy.  We went on a non-holiday Friday, and it was very civilised.  We also noticed that it was much busier in the morning and had thinned out considerably in the afternoon. 

    We also opted to do the Lion Encounter.  It was probably a bit less than an ‘encounter’ than an experience, but it was only $29 per person and that seemed pretty reasonable.  You get to go on an ENCLOSED bus (seriously, but disappointingly reducing the chance that a random child will be snatched by one) and are taken into the lion enclosure just as they are released from their night pen.  There are also bits of animals scattered around the enclosure which they go hunting for, and it means that they come right up close to the bus so you can get a good look – at least for the couple of minutes it takes them to find and devour their snacks before they retreat to a distant rock, or worse, their day den.

    Anyway, we had a lovely day, but if I am to be honest, zoos are great for kids who have never been to one before and for whom everything is new. Personally, I continue to go to zoos because I appreciate the vital work they do in preserving species that we humans have done our best to wipe out, and I know my entrance fee helps out with that.  But for the most part, a zoo is a zoo is a zoo.

    Hang on?  Did we miss the aquatic bird enclosure?  I don’t recall seeing any cranes.

  • Day 1 – Toowoomba

    Day 1 Toowomba

    After 5 months or so of our new caravan sitting on the driveway, save for three little trips where we went mostly just to check that everything works properly, we set off on our big adventure – six (-ish) weeks on the road.  A couple of weeks to get to Adelaide, a week in the City of Churches Supercars, and a couple of weeks meandering back through Victoria and coastal New South Wales, to get back home in time for Christmas.  We have done a heap of trips over the years, in tents and two variations of pop-top vans, but this marks our first time in a real-life grown-up (self-contained van) and more importantly, without the safety blanket provided by travelling in a group.  Will we survive without breaking down?  Will we survive without killing one another?  All will be revealed through these pages…

    The best things about being (semi) retired, is that we are no longer dependent on school holidays.  This means that we can take out time, rather than our usual four days of seven hours driving each day, four days in the actual place we were visiting, and then four days rushing back in time for school, and usually two days of marking beforehand.

    So, this trip we have planned around short journeys, with most stops of at least two nights, so that we can take the time to smell the roses – or jacarandas as the case may be.

    Day 1 was a very short jaunt to Toowoomba, with the main purpose being to catch up with one of Mark’s mates from the Uluru Astronomy Hub days (sorry Wendy – but we will catch you guys at the muster in May).

    Toowoomba is a place I have been to a heap of times before.  I remember, shortly after I returned from Mt Isa, Dad thought I was an idiot for going ‘all that way” to Toowoomba for a twenty-first birthday party, but when you are used to driving from Mount Isa to the Sunshine Coast, two- and a-bit hours to Toowoomba is nothing!

    Anyway, as I said, I have been there plenty of times before, but clearly never by the Esk-Hampton Road, because I’m sure that if I had, I would have recognised the locale of Perseverance.  The very name sounds like it should be the setting for a Taylor Sheridan western, complete with gun slingers and public lynchings and saucy barmaids.  But no.  All that comprises Perseverance is a public hall, and a massive culvert (under construction.  Google describes the Perseverance Hall as “nestled in the heart of Ravensbourne” with a population of 72.  If this is the heart, I’m not entirely sure where the rest of the body is (The population of Ravensbourne is only 307.  Don’t get me wrong – I think this is great!  I love that only a little bit out of Brisbane there are tiny little communities like this and just know that I hope they don’t get developed.  The Perseverance Hall is hosting a trivia night in November, and now I wish I knew this when we were planning our trip, because I imagine that would be a real hoot, with volunteers manning the bar and charging genuine 1973 prices!

    Anyhow, all of the times I have been to Toowoomba, I don’t think I have ever been when the jacarandas are in bloom, and as we drove in I was instantly reminded of Bruce Dawe’s poem “Provincial City” – ‘the jacarandas hang their sheets of blue water in mid-air…’  This in turn reminded me of my confusion many years ago as a young teacher in Mount Isa.  The poem was used as an unseen text in an English exam and the kids were asked to explain the metaphor in that line.  More than half of my class started rabbiting on about atlases, with one elaborately explaining how a truck laden with atlases had crashed and the port had captured the moment where the truck disintegrated and the atlases flew through the air before crashing to the ground,  This was one of the first times I was forced to consider ‘point of reference’.  Mount Isa High was full of young teachers setting English exams for whom jacarandas were a common sight, while most of our charges had never left Mount Isa, and their only point of reference was the class sets of atlases they used in class – which coincidently had a blue cover!

    We checked into the Big 4 Caravan Park in Harristown for the night.  Our intention had been to stay at the showgrounds, but half-way to Toowoomba, Mark realised he had forgotten to fill the water tanks in the van, and not knowing what the water situation was at the showgrounds, chose the safe option.  Amazingly, even though there were three groups of people watching, Mark managed to back the van in perfectly first time.  “You can tell you’ve done that a few times,” our neighbour said.  Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt them.  And then a lady who had a neighbour who owned a Snowy bailed us up for an hour, and after that it was time to catch up with Mike.

    Mike suggested Thai for dinner, and it didn’t really bother me too much because it was mostly going to be me feigning interested in telescopes and nebulae, but genuine interest in Mike’s recounts of his minglings with the King of Bhutan.  We ended up at Dee’s Vintage Thai Restaurant in Ruthven Street (which I think is the only street in Toowoomba).  Talk about genuine 1973 prices!  Well, maybe not quite, but two courses for three people, including a bottle of wine, was $104.  The mains were so big that we all took home leftovers, and the owner brought over the ‘doggy-bags’ automatically. The, when I went to pay, I handed over $105 in notes and he gave me the $5 note back.  “No, I discount you!”  But perhaps the loveliest thing about this restaurant, was that someone  had the job of making origami water lilies out of yellow serviettes and gently placing them in every wine glass on every table. Hunger sated, we bid our farewells to Mike and headed back to the Big 4 to call it night.

    Oh – nearly forgot.  We think we have officially become “good nomads” (nobody needs to mention the grey).  We knew we would encounter a lot of truck and we weren’t, disappointed, so when one was up our backside, we used the trucking channel 40 to call him around.  As he passed us, he gave us a hearty toot of his horn and wished is the best for our holiday.  We were a little bit chuffed – plus we have seen Stephen Spielberg’s early ‘made-for-TV’ movie Duel, starring Dennis Weaver, and an angry pair of hands driving an even angrier truck.  Much better to get on their good side!