From gold pan to fry pan

After a day trip to Charters Towers we returned to Townsville to see smoke billowing from one side of Castle Hill, the mini-mountain around which the town is built.

More of Charters Towers in a moment, but first here are some pictures of a water bombing helicopter that made several trips from a lagoon near our van park to douse the fire, which threatened expensive homes on the north east slope.







According to the local TV news two boys were later arrested for lighting the fire, which caused residents of 40 homes to be evacuated.




































Pubs and more pubs
Back to Charters Towers, which since my schooldays I’ve had a fascination for, but never really had the opportunity to visit.

This was the centre of one of Australia’s biggest 19th century gold rushes, was once Queensland’s second-largest city and supported 65 pubs!

However, when we drove the 130km from Townsville, we found a town rather smaller than we’d imagined, yet thankfully with some grand old buildings just like we’d read about.

Above right: the Post Office.

Right, former girls' school which became a U.S Defence Force field hospital during WWII.




Unfortunately, many of them are plastered with modern signage that tends to obscure their distinctive character.

As these pictures show some of the grandeur of the glory days remains.

Right: Downtown Charters Towers.

Charters Towers' next claim to fame was during World War II, when it hosted 15,000 American servicemen and was surrounded by 29 underground concrete bunkers packed with munitions.

One tends to forget what it was like in those days. The Japanese mounted three bombing raids on Townsville, a major military base, in 1942. But judging by the amount of damage inflicted, they may as well have been water bombing.

Right: At the stock market.


We had a very relaxing salad lunch in Lissner Park, built in 1883, before heading back to Townsville.

Right: German field gun mounted in Lissner Park captured by the AIF at Villers-Bretonneux in WWI. Below right: Rotunda at Lissner Park.


On the way home we came across an extraordinary rig – an old school
bus pulling a trailer carrying a baby 4WD and an aluminium boat much bigger than your typical dinghy.

“This is our home,” said the owner, Ken. “We sold up and spend our lives travelling around Queensland.”

Customised rig (right) that is home to Ken and wife.

Ken, a local “bush engineer”, has fitted out the bus meticulously. It contains a twin-tub washing machine, a large fixed generator, a portable generator and a marine toilet with sullage tank. He and his wife only “free-camp”, avoiding caravan parks entirely.

Our next web log will carry a brief note about Magnetic Island, where we had a day of nostalgia.

Time out in Townsville, after a green frog scare

Just two days after the winter solstice, we find ourselves in Townsville, where the noon temperature is 27 deg.

Air force jets and helicopters from nearby Garbutt base make it a noisy spot.

And it will get noisier as our park is next to the showgrounds where the local annual show is about to commence.

But we are happy to be located close to the CBD. And Carol is happy to put behind her the green frog incident, mentioned later in these notes.

Views from the top of Castle Hill to west Townsville (above right) where our van park is in about the middle of the picture, and (right) Magnetic Island to the northeast.

Carol immediately called our good friend Col Gellatly’s daughter Kristy who is here while her husband serves with the Australian Defence Force in East Timor.

Kristy and her four delightful children Lachlan, Isabelle, Georgia and Sophie came around for a slap-up meal of Home Hill sausages and eggs.

Above right: Carol with Kristy and her four cherubs.

They’re off shortly to celebrate Col’s 60th birthday at Shoal Bay in Port Stephens, which unfortunately we will miss.

Next day Carol reconnected with her cousin Margaret Anstey (nee Besant) whom I haven’t seen in 45 years and Carol has seen only once in that time, after fate took us on different paths.

Here’s the relationship: Carol’s grandfather Pop Dossetto and Margaret’s grandmother Margaret Mary were brother and sister.

We had a lot to talk about, particularly as both Carol and Margaret have daughters in the Middle East, our Sue in Dubai and her Tiffany in Jeddah, where she is a flight attendant.

Carol then took time out with Margaret to visit Margaret’s mother Rene Besant at her nursing home. As Rene and Carol’s deceased mother Lorraine were very close, it was an emotional time.

Margaret Anstey and Carol -- their second meeting in 45 years.

Bowen: back to the ‘50s

This has been an interesting journey into the tropics.

Our first stop after Airlie Beach was Bowen, the top end of the Whitsunday Coast, which was like revisiting the 1950s.

There are no traffic lights, no high-rise buildings and the pubs are colonial in character.

The streets are so wide that with even with angle parking there are four clear traffic lanes plus a generous median strip.

Right: downtown Bowen.

Carol reckons you need to take a cut lunch to cross the road. No-one likes to walk too far: there are more corner pubs and bottle shops within a half kilometre square here than in any town I’ve seen.

Right: Bowen port and marina.

Old-timers say that during World War II amphibious Catalina aircraft used to land in the main street. You can see why Baz Lurhmann chose to film a chunk of 'Australia' the movie here.

For us it was like returning to the lazy crazy days of summer in Brisbane.

Right: off Bowen, impressive Gloucester Island.

Bowen’s beaches feature the obligatory coconut trees, signs warning about stingers, and racks with large bottles of vinegar strategically positioned for use ‘in case’ by those brave or foolhardy enough to take a dip.

Our caravan park is appropriately named Wangaratta, as most of the inmates are Victorians escaping the cold. The pub across the road serves VB and Carlton Draught on tap, but not Fourex Bitter, can you believe!

Here we were appalled to find three year olds straying from the bistro area to play the poker machines (under their parents guidance, I might add!).

At our park, old school buses decorated with pot plants are home to permanent residents. ‘Bluey’, aged 84, who still works as a tomato picker, was happy to supply us with a super fresh bag for twenty cents. And a young mum with three kids in a bus next door did the same with cucumbers.

Interesting place.

Above right: Carol at golf in Proserpine and (right) on the 18th green, Bowen.

Simon, sugar and steaks

We pushed on through Home Hill and endless sugar cane farms to Ayr, a very lively town in stark contrast to sleepy Bowen.

There we caught up with my cousin Simon Williams. Our rig looked resplendent among the cane, parked outside his house.

Simon, who used to run his own earthmoving equipment business, has 130 acres of cane under cultivation at a farm he bought freehold just a few kilometres out of town.

We hadn’t seen him since his mother Eve (my Dad’s sister) died three years ago so we had a lot to talk about.

He’s a hard worker. To build equity he’s also driving heavy machinery at a coal mine 360 kilometres west, working four days on with four days off. That’s commitment!

His hard work will be rewarded as sugar prices have racheted up and he’ll soon be able to give away the mine work.

Right: Simon and I check his cane crop.

That night we dined on the biggest steaks we’ve seen, washed down with copious amounts of beer.

A frog went a courtin’ in a toilet bowl, aha!

Carol will hate me for this but I have to tell the story about the green frogs.

When we arrived she asked to use the toilet. After a few moments there was a loud shriek and out she came white as a sheet. “There’s a frog in the toilet!” she said.

Simon, being a batchelor, seemed unfazed but obviously I had to check it out.

With a hand gloved in a plastic bag and aided by the flush, I discovered that not one but four green frogs had made their home under the rim of the toilet where it was obviously cool and the occasional flush simulated a waterfall, a perfect spot if you’re a green frog.

But for a human, the sight of a little green head peering up between your naked thighs can be disconcerting.

After extracting each frog one by one (they were not happy to leave) and throwing it out the window, I gave Carol the ‘all clear’ to use the loo.

“NO WAY!” she said and headed for the van toilet, out of bounds to green frogs.

Here in Townsville we plan to be out and about, with visits to Charters Towers and Magnetic Island. We’ll keep you posted.

Wonder of the Whitsundays

Airlie Beach, gateway to the Whitsunday Islands has us mesmerised with its spectacular surrounding countryside, yachts and marina.

Right: Airlie Beach facing north.

It is also the place where, horror of horrors, I lost my mobile phone – more about that shortly.

First, I should mention that half-way between Rockhampton and Mackay we had a pit stop at St Lawrence, one the most remote and godforsaken places on the coast, positioned among dry tidal flats, with half a pub, a post office, a service station and little else.

We wanted to see if anything had changed since we last visited as teens on the Sunlander, which pulled up there for a couple of hours en route to Cairns back in the 60s. We found it was pretty much the same except the population had actually fallen to 120.

But small can be beautiful. Carol wanted to express post a letter but was short on the postage by a few cents. The postmistress happily made up the difference herself, with the comment, “there’s too much take and not enough give in the world today.”

How true and gracious -- a portent of another gracious event to unfold.

Spectacular sunrise

A few kilometres further on we stopped at a rest area at Clairview for our first night of ‘free’ camping.

This tiny beach village impressed with its spectacular sunrise (pictured above) but disconcerted with a strong warning about crocodiles. “Yes,” said a local, “I saw one a month ago.” But he didn’t seem too concerned.

Right: warning about crocs at Clairview Rest Area.

We paused at Mackay, but Nebo Road, which I last trod as a reporter covering a royal tour 40 years ago was now so busy we decided to push on to Airlie Beach.

This brought back memories of sailing around South Molle, Whitsunday, Hamilton, Lindeman, Brampton and Hooke Islands 23 years ago, with Rick and Irene King, Tony and Pat Dunn on a 40-foot yacht.

That trip was such a blast we simply had to stay a while here, although this time we’re not sailing, just walking and gawking.

Right: Bushwalk view of islands to the south.

Airlie Beach is a very different place today – transformed by big bucks into a major international resort. But the view of the islands and the pale blue to turquoise sea is as mesmerising as ever.

Right: Distant view of Daydream Island. The white spot (barely visible) is an outdoor movie screen.

The main Airlie precinct is chockablock with teens and twenty-somethings (NB: Emma, Stephanie, Serena), and really comes alive at night – reminds us of Byron Bay.

Right: Shute Harbour

Everyone else seems to be on yachts, in condos or, maybe like us, in caravan parks, spending the day with their feet up and enjoying the sunshine or going on bush walks. We even managed to get in a couple of games of golf in Proserpine.

Right: Every silver lining has a cloud. Warning about deadly irukandji jellyfish and other nasties to look out for in the summer months.

Mobile misadventure

Back to the mobile phone. We were into the third hour of a long walk when I noticed it missing, a major disaster as it contains hundreds of numbers of friends and rellies.

We hurried back to our van and rang the number. ‘Peter’ responded and after checking our creds said, ‘can you come to the F3 berth at the Able Point Marina.’

Above right: Luxury hilltop accommodation.

Buoyed by an enormous sense of relief, we found the berth, and Peter with another Peter, on a Bavaria 44 – a luxury yacht.

Peter and Peter invited us aboard for a beer, which made us feel awkward, as we should have been buying them one. It turned out they were from Melbourne and found my phone when walking the same track as us. They were to sail early next morning to Hamilton Island to meet their wives. Whew!

Above right: Marina where we retrieved our mobile phone from Peter and Peter. Right: A big artificial lagoon at Airlie, safe from stingers.

After expressing our undying gratitude we returned to our van with the said phone, contemplating the good nature and grace that can be common to both rich yachtsmen and humble postmistresses.

Our next stop will be Bowen, more than 2000km north of Sydney, where we hope to play a bit of golf and maybe catch a fish or two.

Right: Downtown Airlie Beach.

Capricorn Coast: sunshine and warmth

Here at Yeppoon, the air is so clear you can almost reach out and touch Great Keppel Island, even though it is a good half an hour away by fast ferry.

The days are quite warm – sometimes hot – although the nights are chilly. The sky is clear and blue, the sea calm – thanks to the protection offered by the Great Barrier Reef.

Right: looking out to sea from Yeppoon.

We have found this part of the Capricorn Coast, 36 km from Rockhampton, very different from what we have experienced so far.

There are lots of black cockatoos, which make an enormous mess of a tree that looks like a type of fig, to get at the fruit. We tried to identify the tree at the Rockhampton Botanical Gardens, but the only one that looked like it was a South African Fiddleleaf Fig. Any ideas anyone?

Above right: black cockatoos in a Casuarina tree...and (right) the mess they leave in a kind of fig nearby.

We met some very nice people at our caravan park, about 9 km south of Yeppoon, including a man who had to be rushed to hospital when his head blew up like a pumpkin.

It turned out he had a staph infection in his ear. Thankfully he recovered after a few days on antibiotics. He and wife are from Victoria and are staying a couple of months in the park just to get away from the cold. He gave me some good advice on hitching our rig.

Yeppoon itself still has that old fashioned look and feel even though there are major resort developments to the north and south.

It’s also well endowed with trade services – I had no problem replacing two tyres on the Pajero at short notice on a public holiday when I discovered tears caused by hardening of the rubber.

Away from the hustle and bustle

We went for a long drive south to a remote seaside place called Keppel Sands. It is the perfect place to get away from the hustle and bustle, with a caravan park, a single general store that also doubles as a pub, and a handful of houses occupied by people with the most serene expressions I’ve encountered in a long time.

It’s on our list for next visit.

Some observations:

There are signs everywhere warning about box jellyfish and what to do when stung (see picture, right) , and some signs warning about crocodiles although apparently no-one has been taken by one in this region.

We have seen some extraordinary caravan/motorhome rigs, including the biggest fifth-wheeler I’ve ever seen, bigger than a large pantechnicon, and another towing a small helicopter.

Where in the south, you might own a surfboard, here you must own a boat, preferably one with a big outboard. I have never seen so many big fish brought ashore by boaties. Nearly everybody has a boat or has a neighbour with a boat, which are used almost exclusively for fishing.

Coconut trees are becoming commonplace amongst the beach vegetation.

Finally, the tides are enormous (as our pictures show) , which means if you do go fishing you need to take account of the tides when finding your way home.

Right: the beach near our park, with the tide out.








Right: high and low tide at a nearby creek.









This has been a quiet time, as we have no relatives to call on. We’re looking forward to setting up next in Airlie Beach.

Gladstone: one wide expanse

Gladstone harbour

We enter the central Queensland coast and are astonished by the industrial might of Gladstone harbour and its port. Everything here is big.

More on this shortly, but first we should mention our brief stay at Woodgate, a long stretch of beach about 36 kilometres from Childers, protected from big seas by Fraser Island.

Call us sentimental, but we simply had to revisit the place where we had memorable holidays with our kids back in the 70s.

To put things in perspective, Woodgate beach is where Carol’s now deceased uncles Len and Cecil Dossetto, who had sugar cane farms in Childers, built holiday homes.

Back in the old days we used to stay with Len and Marj, Cecil and Dot, and their kids. Marj now lives in Brisbane, Dot in Childers, but their families still use the holiday homes.

We parked at the Woodgate caravan park and didn’t really expect to see anyone we knew.

To our surprise we found Marj and her son-in-law Reg Cotton at her house, which Reg was freshening up with a bit of paint. It was back to old times, with Marj the matriarch insisting we all dine together each night.

Another delightful surprise was the arrival of Reg and Lyn’s vivacious daughter Katherine and her fiancée Jordi Oakley, who had been working in Esperance, WA. Jordi’s new job is marine pilot in Gladstone, where we were headed. As pilot, he will go out to meet incoming ships and bring them into port.

Right: Marj and Katherine. Below: Marj, Reg, Kath, Carol and Jordi.

You can’t eat bites

Reg is a mad fisherman like our son-in-law Doug and I couldn't turn down his invitation to go fishing near Burrum Heads on his boat. Needless to say Reg caught fish while I only got bites. “You can bite eats but you can’t eat bites,” said Reg sagely.

To cap off our surprises, we received a visit from Carol’s cousin Wayne Dossetto (Dot and Cecil’s son) and his family, who live in Bundaberg, on their way to the Sunshine Coast for a holiday.

As we hadn’t seen Wayne and his wife Cathy for several years -- well before they brought their three beautiful children into the world – we had much to talk about.

Right: Carol, Wayne and Cathy, and their children Max, Brigit and Charlotte.

Before we get to Gladstone, I have to mention that before our hurried departure from the Sunshine coast, we failed to contact my niece Fiona Jones, so here’s a recent picture.



My brother Pat's daughter Fiona, husband Jeremy and baby Conner.













From Battle of the Bulge to Battle of the Boyne

Our next stop was Tannum Sands, an affluent and picturesque seaside hamlet 22 kilometres south of Gladstone, separated from the twin town of Boyne Island by the Boyne River.

Here we made good use of beautifully landscaped walking paths built by the local authorities and industry, to try to work off what has been stealthily enlarging our waistlines.

We couldn’t get a wireless signal in Tannum Sands to access the Internet. But we did have free use of the computers at the local library on Boyne Island, which meant crossing the Boyne, which I felt had a bit of resonance.

What we saw on a walk: Above, the beach at Tannum Sands and right, mouth of the Boyne. Below, A bat colony, a welcome and warning sign, and a black cockatoo.



































During our stay we did two worthwhile tours in Gladstone.

The first was of the Queensland Alumina Ltd refinery, an ochre-coloured behemoth that uses vast quantities of caustic soda to turn bauxite from Weipa into white alumina powder. Its massive cylindrical structures reminded Carol of the Temple of Karnak in Luxor, Egypt.

The second was a Port of Gladstone tour, which took us through the RG Tanna coal port, a massive and compelling complex of coal trains, conveyors, Caterpillar D11 bulldozers, dumps and cranes.

Coal, coal and more coal

In what could be a project manager’s dream (or nightmare depending on your point of view) we saw a Capesize vessel (around 220,000 deadweight tonnes, too big for the Suez and Panana Canals) being loaded.

Right: RG Tanna coal port

Remember the line from the old song:

‘You load 16 tons and what do you get,
Another day older and deeper in debt…’

In the old days, a strong man could shovel 16 tons (in the old measure) of coal in a day. In Gladstone a bottom-dump coal train can unload 6000 tonnes an hour, and they work 24 hours a day.

Our guide said the port was exporting 70 million tonnes of coal each year. Plans were well afoot to build a similar terminal at nearby Wiggins Island, which will double coal exporting capacity.

Given the part that coal burning plays in greenhouse gas emissions, can anyone tell me how this fits with the Rudd Government’s carbon reduction policies?

Anyhow, the port tour also took us through the parklands and gardens of Spinnaker Park and the Marina, which are in pleasant contrast to Gladstone itself, a fairly drab city.

Right: millionaires' row at the Marina

Before we departed for Rockhampton and Yeppoon we had a farewell lunch with Katherine (below) at the Tannum Sands pub and reported what our port guide had said about marine pilots.

“Their job is rated as difficult as that of a jumbo jet pilot.”