Bit of a climb she said. Up to Kenilworth. In the Mary Valley. But there were bellbirds in the trees. Distinctive call. Single note. Shrill. At the time I thought more like a door bell than, say, an old hand wrung school affair. But my recollections were a little shaky. Efforts to record their sound thwarted by some intense late afternoon electrical activity.
Six years it’d taken him, he said apologetically. Sailing around the world in a small ketch. I was impressed. And said so. He dismissed this. Simply a case of following the Trade Winds. Recounting tales of struggles with a sextant.
I’d met Andy by chance. Brief stop a little north of Kenilworth in Queensland’s Mary Valley. Settled in Australia with his fourth wife, he was originally from South Africa. Revealing a thick Afrikaans accent now his party trick. He’d not just sailed. He’d cycled through much of southern Africa. And driven buses in London. Even been on a pilgrimage to the shrine of St James.
Escaping the familiar Bruce Highway south towards Brisbane, I’d headed down into the Mary Valley. Stumbling on the village of Dagun. Intending only a brief stop. Perhaps a quick coffee. Nothing more.
Left a few hours later. Invited to the local school to give an impromptu talk to the pupils. Met by head teacher Jane. Then thrust into the lions den. For no question is ever off-limits to children. Tough audience. Great fun.
Introducing Milo from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Introducing Milo. And owner Laverne. At Dagun railway station, Mary Valley, central Queensland. Incidentally, Milo is an Australian drink similar to Horlicks in the UK. Ken’s yet to find a pet called ’XXXX’.
All aboard in Dagun from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Ken stumbles on a restored railway station in the Mary Valley, southern Queensland
Seemed there had been a number of break-ins at the camp site. Communal fridge and the coin drawer for the tumble dryer rather than vans or tents. No particular pattern. No obvious suspects. I felt sorry for the permanent residents. For this was their home. Theft of this sort akin to burglary. Expressed my particular revulsion of such behaviour. Dishonesty a pet hate. Steal from me and you’ll find your membership of the human race revoked. Think I’ve always been particularly clear on this point.
I’d arrived the previous night. Town of Gympie. Found the site without difficulty. But left the next day a bit confused. There’d been a friendly greeting, decent pitch, reasonable charge, even loan of a towel. But, when I’d popped back to Reception a little later, a frosty encounter. Was there WiFi I’d asked? No. Bluntly. Actually there was. Netbook detects them. Next morning. Same person. Helpful. Maps for the day ahead. Mixed messages.
Courtesy of friends at my local community radio station in Somerset, England – www.10radio.org– you can catch up with my regular monthly on-air chats with good friend and neighbour Jon.
In these latest episodes Ken talks about his time in Australia. Just click on the links below to hear the various instalments.
[If you enjoyed listening to this broadcast, or any of their other programmes – you can listen online – please do consider making a donation]
On the spot. What, asked my Mum, did root actually mean? As awkwardness goes, a question up there with "Where do babies comes from?". Brief pause. "Err… sexual intercourse" I muttered. She laughed. Realising the true significance of my earlier supermarket faux pax. When I’d announced that I’d have root in the kitchen a bit later.
Tiaro. Terrible coffee. Watery. Served in a dirty, water-stained glass mug. Resembling an early morning urine sample. But without the fuller bodied aroma. One of just two stops on the sixty mile stretch of highway south between Maryborough and Gympie. Like Childers a little way back, steady stream of motorists pulling over for a short respite.
But Tiaro lacked the colonial charm of Childers. Or pretty much anything else. Its only redemption a helpful woman in the town’s information centre. Map of Gympie. And decent public toilets. Although you’d be forgiven for thinking this wasn’t the case. Came across a man relieving himself against a wall barely twenty metres from them. Pointed out sharply to him how close he was to the Conveniences. Dismissive grunt.
