March 15 to 17
Lithgow to Brisbane
March 15
Lithgow to Tamworth
A long hard day, with lots of driving and not much time for photography. This was a shame as I passed through some beautiful countryside. It would be nice to repeat the journey when I had time to spare and could stop half way along the road.
We started with a walk round the village, this time including the hospital in the hopes of seeing some kangaroos. We didn't.The sky had some very interesting clouds, the air was crisp and a good day was in prospect. |
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After breakfast, Malcolm drove me to the Hertz Office at a motel in Lithgow. The lady was very friendly but didn't really know what she was doing.
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I had to point out the big scratch over one of the rear wheel arches. I couldn't check the photos that Hertz had sent me because their software didn't work. (I was told in Brisbane that they were taken last year so wouldn't have been any use anyway!) The lady promised to add a note to the paperwork at her end and I, luckily took a photograph. Note to self: Never use Hertz again. As it was, I had no choice as there wasn't another company that would give me a one way rental from Lithgow.
I followed Malcolm back to the main road then set off West and then North. I stopped in a lay-by to examine the car's instruction manual and then set off in earnest.
The road was very quiet. In the first three hours, I overtook two trucks, one on a steep hill, and was overtaken by one car and one motorbike. I only saw a few vehicles coming the other way.
The road was rough in places, flood damage I believe, but not too difficult to drive on. There was a lot of work going on, often involving temporary traffic lights, so my progress was delayed at frequent intervals.
The countryside was picturesque if not exciting. Lots of trees, lots of grass and lots of hills. There were frequent signs referring to the risk of flooding but, at the moment, everything looked very dry.
After just over three hours, I reached a T junction where all references to Muswellbrook, the large town I was aiming for, vanished. I turned left as there was a village, Sandy Hollow, a couple of kilometres up the road. I stopped at the hotel, found that the only portable food available was a pie, and bought the last one.
I ascertained that I had to retrace my steps to the road junction and then to go straight ahead. I did this, passed a few vineyards (this is the Upper Hunter Valley) and a huge coal mine. This must be the only place in the world where this conjunction can be found. After about 25 kilometres, I reached Muswellbrook, where I stopped in the outskirts, ate the pie, which wasn't very good, and then continued. By now I had completed the hardest two thirds of the journey on schedule so I was able to relax a bit.
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The road was a little easier but similar to the journey so far. Around 16.00 I arrived at Tamworth, drove round in circles for a bit and then discovered the hotel on the edge of the town centre. I had already passed it three times!
I checked in, had a brief rest and then drove five kilometres back up the road to photograph the Golden Guitar, the symbol of Tamworth as Country Capital of Australia. The information centre had closed for the day and the sun was shining from directly behind the guitar, making decent photography almost impossible. Other than that, it was a successful visit!
I returned to the hotel, parked the car and set off on foot to the centre of Tamworth. There are lots of trees along the main street but it isn't an exciting place. It is best known for its country festival (country & western). Whilst the food festival was advertised, I couldn't work out where it was taking place.
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I found a bank which sold me some money and then a magnificent pub. Unfortunately, it had delusions of being a posh restaurant, with prices to match. I crossed the road to a smaller pub, had a couple of good hazy IPAs, some calamari and a decent steak. Just what I wanted.
I completed the ten minute walk back to the hotel and rested in front of the TV.
March 16
Tamworth to Stanthorpe
The morning TV news warned of high fire dangers in New South Wales. A very comforting start to the day!
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Malcolm had suggested the Uralla Bakery as a place for a late breakfast, about 100 kilometres up the road. I set off, took a few photos and admired a real mixture of scenery. The traffic was heavier than yesterday and there were lots of road works, some of them causing considerable delays.
When I reached Uralla, the sun was very bright and it was hot. I used one of the reverse angle parking slots - not easy to manoeuvre into but easy to exit - and walked up the main, probably only, street.
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I couldn't find the bakery - I later discovered that it was called something else - but did find the large Alternate Root cafe, the old Uralla Stores (Tricketts Building). The coffee was very good and the bacon, egg, cheese and spinach roll was large. It was difficult to eat but full of stuff. A good choice. The music, not loud, was also excellent, mainly '60s stuff. |
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The historic building housing the cafe is Tricketts Building, named after the family of Australia's first world champion, Edward Trickett, a single sculler. He actually died there, the building being owned by his son. I staggered out feeling very full. I've probably written off lunch.
I passed Armidale on the bypass and stopped a little further North for petrol. The countryside was the usual mix of trees and rough looking paddocks.
At this stage, the road was remarkably high above sea level. Without obviously climbing much, we had reached the top of the Great Dividing Range, an elevation of 1410 metres.
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Bluff Rock was the site of a massacre of Aboriginals by some local settlers in 1844. Not surprisingly, there are different versions of what happened, which side struck the first blow, etc etc. I stopped for a brief rest as there was a convenient car park.
I followed the road for a couple of hours or more, until I reached Tenterfield,
where I stopped for a wander. There were a few fine buildings but, in extracting
my camera from my bag, I must have turned the control wheel, thus changing
the settings and wrecking the photos that I took in the area.
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I crossed the state border and immediately stopped at Wallangarra Station. I changed my watch and the clock in my camera but found that my phone had changed itself. How did it do that without an internet connection?
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I rested in the station cafe with a coffee and a glass of water. The station straddles the border between Queensland and New South Wales and was the point where passengers transferred between trains when the states had different rail gauges.
Now there are a few steam excursions and the buildings mainly serve as a restaurant, meeting rooms etc. A fascinating place.
The last twenty kilometres into Stanthorpe were straightforward and I found the Information Centre by the side of the main road, a beautiful building overlooking a lake. The two men in charge were very helpful and gave me some maps and lists, guiding me to restaurants and vineyards. They also gave me directions to the motel.
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I found it easily, checked in and found the wi fi to be difficult. I could access it on my laptop but not on my phone. With my laptop refusing to send emails, I will have to remain incommunicado until tomorrow.
I walked up the main street, a few fine buildings but nothing too exciting, and walked back to the motel.
I then went in the opposite direction, over the bridge, to locate the posh Italian restaurant. It being 16.30, this was closed and no menu was displayed.
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I had a wander by the river/lake then returned to the motel for a rest.
Having examined the Italian restaurant's menu on the WWW, I decided that it was expensive so walked five minutes up the road to O'Mara's, the pub which was meant to do good food.
It was very quiet but the beer, not Carlton Draft but James Squire Pale Ale, was cold and tasted good. The bruschetta had lots of flavour. A good choice. The pork chop was large and, as usual in Australia, the salad very good.
March 17
Stanthorpe to Brisbane
I learned something this morning. There is an art walk around the town. While I was investigating a suitable cafe for breakfast, I found a small brass monkey surrounded by cannon balls. The label claimed to give the origin of the phrase - ie that a small brass plate held cannon balls on board ship. If it was really cold, the tray would contract & the balls would fall off. Research on Wikipedia now that I am home says that this is no more than a myth. Who knows!
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Brinx Deli/Cafe looked a bit upmarket. The coffee certainly was. After the meat consumption over the last couple of days, I opted for a muesli, yoghurt etc bowl. All very good and presented in a suitably trendy way.
I returned to the motel through the park. A lovely walk along the water, Quart Pot Creek, on what was going to be a very hot day.
I checked out, paid another visit to the information centre and set off up the road. I was just approaching the outskirts of town when I passed the museum. It wasn't officially open yet but the lady let me in anyway. It was full of stuff, mainly of the "early settler" variety, both domestic and industrial. Great fun and spread out in nearly a dozen buildings.
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About fifteen kilometres away, much of it along a side road, I reached the Heritage Vineyard, a lovely building set in the trees. Inside, it was set up for a magnificent banquet. It would have been nice to stay but ... The lady doing the tasting was friendly and helpful. I tried whites, reds and even a rose. Many were from very strange Italian grapes but all were good. I selected three to take to Brisbane and then had a coffee overlooking the vines. Needless to say, the wine isn't exported to the UK.
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Another 40 kilometres along the main road is Warwick. I parked the car outside a magnificent church, over the road from a very impressive looking bowls club and round the corner from the Roman Catholic Presbytery. It was now blazing hot.The main street was lined with awnings, which offered some respite. There were a few fine buildings, even a statue, but nothing too remarkable. |
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I wandered into the shopping mall, mainly because of the air conditioning, and then crossed the road to a cafe, where they sold me a huge cheese salad sandwich and a ginger beer. Reasonably healthy except for the drink.
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I paid a brief visit to the railway station, a beautifully maintained building but with the doors firmly locked and bolted.
The next two hours passed easily enough as I drove through lots of countryside, eventually descending from the hills to the coastal plain. In some places, this was a steep descent.
Not long after this, the road started to become very busy. I arrived on a motorway (M5), which the map suggested was the right direction. I made slow progress along this for half an hour, until I spotted a sign to Route 33, the next road on my map. I reached a busy shopping centre with major road works and got lost. I did find a place to stop to study the map but this only convinced me that I was within a couple of kilometres of where I wanted to be.
I finally found a petrol station, which I required both for fuel and directions. Both were forthcoming. It transpired that I was only a couple of minutes away from journey's end. I found the correct street and then spent some time trying to find the correct address. It transpired that I was looking for Flat 69 at No 2, rather than Flat 2 at No 69. An easy mistake to make.
We spent the evening over pizza and beer, the latter being essential in the incredibly hot and humid weather.