Toowoomba to Perth: Section 2

Day Four: Bundaberg to Mackay

As mentioned elsewhere in this blog, the day dawned to drizzle, rain and rain. Notwithstanding, the only real dampener to my spirits was the nuisance of having to deal with a wet tent. Hand wipe down first to get most of the water off, then a beach towel to dry the exterior sufficiently to fold it and drape it over all my other gear jammed in the back of the car. No worries, done and dusted.

Unfortunately, the skeeters got very busy while I was doing this. Man I am EATEN. I was doin' a fine Irish jig slapping at my legs while trying to organise my stuff in the back of the car but they were too keen for me.

Finally I headed off for a shower to cool my itching-burning legs and to slap on the insect-repellant moisturiser combination I have created for the trip. But first, I waged my own revenge. The little bastards had managed to find their way into the nooks and crannies of the car interior, where they could lurk, awaiting that perfect moment to launch at the unsuspecting driver, already busy waving a fist and shouting Old Skool Hip Hop lyrics at Oldies in Winnebago's not Keeping Left. Said driver, suddenly assailed with an itch to make a tart blush, loses concentration on lyrics, travelling vehicles of all persuasions and the basic brain functions associated with steering. Outcome: Not cool, and likely to cause no end of delay to my schedule. So, "right , you little buggers, chemical warfare it is" I asseverated, and whipped out the can of Pea Beau.

Anyway on with the show. Bug problem sorted, I rolled away from my temporary beach frontage and into the rain. Oh yeah RAIN. Not the shy stuff I was treated to earlier, this was the Real McCoy. Can't See Your Hand In Front Of You, Why Are We Bothering To Use Wipers, Someone Go Get The Tinny type rain.

All good sez I, we'll be right. I'm going North. This is Coastal Showers. Humbug. This is across the region and following me apace. But enough! with the weather - any news? Scenery?

Yes. My very first heart-stopping road travel moment happened out of Bundy about 80 clicks. Silly bugger in a clapped out Toyota van - you know the ones with the side windows painted over with leftover fence paint? Yeah, well he and his trailer were in my way from just out of Bundy and his speed was worrying me - no chance to get to Mackay by sundown at the rate he was holding. What is a girl in a 1.3 with less guts than Kevin Rudd at a Carbon Trading Scheme Forum to do? Squint through the driving rain, grit teeth, push the pedal to the floor and hope there are no hills or other cars coming. Bad luck, both. I rarely do this sort of driving - that of the Hope To Hell This Works variety - and I really was just lucky that there wasn't any carnage.

I didn't make a move until I had a downhill run so I could gain speed without having to rely on the engine to provide it and sure enough just as I was alongside him, the stupid mongrel also gained speed. What is it with those morons that you have been tailing for 25km waiting for a break, you finally get it and they suddenly discover the accelerator when you're overtaking them! No common sense or courtesy.

You may notice I spend a bit of time griping about fellow roadusers. I think I have latitude to make these assertions, given the amount of driving I have done. My main issue is the lack of understanding about driving safely for ALL road users, not just the Royal You. This bothers me because I want to stay alive, strangely enough!

Anyway, after overtaking your man there, it was flat stick through to Mackay. Ok not true, I stopped in Rockhampton - clearly arranged for the tourists resting before and after their Whitsunday adventures - for a very short break and then on. So what else to tell? Sugarcane, sugarcane, sugarcane. And rain. All day. Not a lick of beautiful blue for encouragement. But you know, the best thing about this part of Oz is that even precipitation is not miserable Stay Inside Cold and Horrible rain, it is Let's Jump In Puddles, Catch In Your Mouth, Chase the Cane Toads kind of rain. Warm and happy.

Entering Marlborough country, the scenery changed a little as befits its nomenclature, swinging inland for a glimpse of typical agricultural Australia - gum trees, eroding soil, grey, harvested fields of dust. A stop at the Marlborough BP for fuel and water got me to wondering about the truth of possums and their effect when choosing to be dead inside a watertank. Lesson: for a new taste sensation, source your water from Marlborough BP.

I also had a yarn to some Fifty-somethings decked in leathers of stud and tassle, and sporting mean Harleys. They just came from Airlie Beach and promised skies of cerulean blue. I had to return favour with ill tidings of more drizzle and cloud. They were ok with that, the main issue being whether to bother getting into their wet-weather gear or not. They decided "for".

On again, leaving behind a trio of hapless Japanese backpacker lads aimlessly wandering around the servo-cum-roadhouse, oily rags stuffed into oh-so-cool backpacking couture, evidently trying to work out between themselves how the hell they managed to end up working for stuff all in this arse end of no place when Everyman's Tropical Dream was a lazy 100km eastward to the coast.

Finally, after MUCH more rain and MUCH less traffic thank the Lord, I hit Mackay. 5.30pm. No worries, I'll find a place. Call the backpackers (all two) listed in the LP and whaddaya know - full. Call RACQ, gulping back the likelihood of much more expensive arrangements, call the numbers provided - full. Hm, wet tent in the back, no chance of tenting it. Bloody hell. I considered sleeping in the car for a while, and wondered if the cops would pick me up.

Finally, decided to head into town to try my luck. Coasting along the main drag, every single place is full, full, full. Exactly as the very nice but equally unhelpful people from the backpackers had told me. What is it about Mackay? I wondered. Not like it is really "somewhere" when considering the other options up and down the coast. Finally, a sign saying "vacancy". Sigh, well, it's gonna be lean pickings from now on as this will be where the fair share of my hard earned will end up.

As such things seem to go, this was an excellent choice after all. WiFi in the room and just the absolute most helpful desk staff you could imagine. After a chat about "where to from here?" and "why ARE you here?" I asked "well, what the heck is it about Mackay?". Susie put me straight - mining. Apparently there are mines by the fistful around here and all the mining companies put their fly-in, fly-out workers into the motels. So too bad for anyone else looking to stay the night. Not sure about the wisdom of that arrangement if they're also after a tourist dollar but the hospitality industry doesn't give a fig as you might imagine, as long as the room is full.

Anyway, after talking with Susie about wanting to see Eungella (YUN-g'lla) National Park they rang me a few places that do tours. I was worried that my car wouldn't make it into (or perhaps out of) the Gorge. "No interest tomorrow love, no tour sorry". But they did tell me my car would make it so ok, I can live with that and give it a shot.

Next day, I came in to Susie and paid for the second night, telling her that my next plan was to find somewhere to do some snorkelling of the Reef before it all goes white and dies. Susie gives me her HOME NUMBER, tells me she is going to call her housekeeper and tell her that I'm coming and to give me someplace to stay until I'm done with Cairns. She tells me her 15 year old son is also there and he gets home from school about 4.30pm so call after that to sort yourself out.

I'm stunned. She also gives me the name of some bloke who used to work for her at her backpacker up the coast. He knows the people and the discounts. "Go get 'em tiger," she says. Still stunned, I stammer out "thanks, gee, thanks". "Don't be shy, you make sure you call" she says. "ok" I smile.

So I wobble off to my room and hit the Net with gusto (you may have noticed...).

Day Five: Mackay and Eungella National Park

Dawn clear and steamy. Happy dance. Off to the NP singing my heart out. Cruisin' baby and in for a good day.

Sign right before the road says "Cars, buses, trucks, vans, caravans, campers beware: Hairpin bends, very steep incline, road subject to slippage. Be aware of school bus".

First thought - every road using vehicle listed to be worried about this road... hmmm...

Second thought - if the school bus can make it, I can

"Mind," said pregnant Stacey at the motel "the road into the park is uphill and pretty winding". Heartstopping is probably closer to the truth. 15% gradient, hairpin bends, cattle grids, smooth blacktop, minimal railing that gives confidence that you will pause long enough to see your life flash before your eyes as you slide right off the precipitous side of the hill, and a 1.3 engine.

Now I'm really sure that the scenery is very pretty. There's plenty of lush rainforest and the view from the road takes in the entire Gorge valley. My brain registered about 1/10000 of this information, the rest of me was gritted teeth, pumping heart and prayers to whatever was listening, slowly working my way round the slippery, un-railed, cattle-grated, 15% hairpin bends.

Thank heavens the road up is only 4.5km and when I got to the top, having heaved an ENORMOUS sigh of relief, I surveyed the town of Eungella. Typical top-of-the-hill, Touristy Thing Near Us But That's The Only Reason To Live Here place. And, no film. No place along the way from Mackay or at Eungella sells film. After all, film is SO Last Century darling.

NB: I can't find the power cable for the digital camera so the long and short of it was, I had three shots left on the camera to expend on the Gorge and NP, and, you're all gonna have to wait until I get to Dad's and scan my prints.

Breaking out the hiking boots finally and with great enthusiasm, I kitted up and took myself down through the Park to Broken River. Stunning, just like in all the photos, iridescent, emeraldine rainforest.

Fakt 1: If it is raining, head into a rainforest and you will stay dry.

This learning hit me as the rain cascaded down in dribs, drabs and sheets. Wet? Not me. The rainforest wanted it all, and I was happy for it to take it.

Fakt 2: Every place takes its dues in flesh. In Bundy it's mozzies, in Mackay it's leeches.

Feisty little buggers were doing their very level best to crawl up my boots, over my socks and on to my legs. The little wrigglers are only the size of a worm until they hook into the good stuff so you really don't know you have visitors until they're well and truly settled.

Just like the mozzies though, I was ready. After knocking a great many from my boots when I finally remembered that Stinging Trees and Nettles were not going to be the only things to worry about Up Here, I whipped out my chemical for this occasion. Salt. See who gets a bit of my ruby fluid without a How's Your Father!

Anyway, the track itself was pretty much unpopulated. Until I got about 300m from Broken Creek, when I happened upon my first Tourist Cluster. Luckily only a group of two, probably early to mid twenties girls. They were neck to knees wrapped up, socks over trousers, the whole deal. Here's me come along in a singlet, shorts and boots and startled the life out of them.

Brief "hello, how ya doin?" (from me) and they, in their usual "I've met a local" way, scuttled off up the track, in search of more rainforest no doubt. Anyway, I stopped at Broken Creek to knock out my boots and check my socks for leeches when they returned. Naturally we had a yarn. They're just starting out and were mortally disappointed by the "cold" weather in Bundaberg (it was between 24 and 19 when I was there) and so had legged it apace up to Mackay in search of the sun. Good ole Oz, gave them more of the same for their haste. They couldn't believe it was raining.

I pointed out to them that it was actually quite warm and the rain shouldn't stop them, as people up here were used to it raining all the time so they did things with it or without. Then I asked them whether they had any leeches.

Suprised looks all round.

Pointing to their shoes, I said "them". Shrieks of suprise in native language, much frantic stomping and waving of arms, flicking with recoiling fingers and they were leech free. "Just what you come to Australia for huh?" I said. Questioning look. "All our most dangerous animals" says I.

"Oh, are they dangerous? Do they really..."

"Well they suck your blood"

"Can they really kill you? Are they poisonous?"

"Aw well I guess if you had enough of them, then you would want to get rid of them fairly quick smart"

Horrified faces. I couldn't go on.

"No, no. Just get em off, you'll be fine. They're not poisonous, and if you get one really stuck into ya, get some salt onto it. Gets rid of them no worries".

Looks of great relief.

Man, foreigners are pretty gullible huh? I was way suprised that they believed me and kept that thought under my hat for future fun times. Anyway, a further bit of chat about good places to go and we parted ways. Them 100m up the hill to the safety of their "Hippy Camper" and me back through the Leech Infested Eungella National Park, chuckling.

Back into town and I decided to take a little driving tour of Mackay. Odd place, it's like they decided to make a town centre some place and then changed their minds, starting again somewhere else. So there's a lot of quite heavily trafficked major roads with strips of broken or breaking down strip shopping, row of houses, repeat.

Really quite forgettable.

After getting a bit lost in the peak hour traffic, getting down to the beach for a bit to watch the kite surfers do their thing, getting lost again, and getting inside, that was it for Day Five.