Day 7, 20/7/2019, Saturday Nindigully to Bony Mountain, 2 – 22

Serenity and a bloke called Curley.

We had such a peaceful night but muggins me woke with a raging headache which was probably caused by the wine in the leetle boxes. Aside from that it is a glorious morning, blue skies and clear with birds singing, loudly. Too bloody loudly.

We’ve hung a rightie onto the Barwon Highway now. Flocks of Apostle birds rise as we pass and Prickly Pear cactus are as high as the trees. I was reading in the pub yesterday that it (sorry the prickly pear) completely overtook farmland early last century and (according to Queensland Historical Atlas http://www.ghatlas.com.au) in 1925 it covered 24 million hectares until eggs of the South American Cactoblastis cactorum moth were introduced to bring it under control. Thankfully the cactoblastis didn’t become a problem like the introduction of the cane toad.

Beyond the roadside scrub we can see vast acreages of grain crops, fence lines that seemingly go forever and emus stalking the fence lines. Once more balls of cotton line the roadsides.

Having stayed there recently we bypass the town of Goondiwindi stopping only to fuel up. Grain gives way to cattle and sheep and the odd house, then another. Tiny Inglewood is busy with caravans there must be a good dunny here, or a baker. We see a sign announcing a $63,000 fine for keeping rabbits. Don’t even think about bringing Flopsey on holidays to Qld.

In all it’s a tiring drive and as we climb through a series of rocky ridges, the roadsides are littered with headless marsupials. Perhaps it would be safer if they crossed the road backwards? After all a tail isn’t as important as a head.

Nearing our destination, we blindly follow the instructions of Gazza Garmin as he has the exact address. Left, right, over a steep narrow one lane bridge, left again through pretty small acre farms, past an old woman hand watering a large garden, to be faced with …a locked gate. I ring Curly the caretaker and sure enough we’re on the wrong road. As we turn around the GPS resets itself and guess what? It gets it right this time. It’s as though it heard Curley’s instructions and safely delivers us to him.

Curley meets us on his tractor at the Bony Mountain Sports Ground and directs us to a site with power for our ailing fridge and every freedom camper’s joy, water. There’s a modern portable type amenities block nearby and we have a fire pit. There’s a fifth wheeler a few hundred metres away and it’s blissfully quiet except for a hundred excitable corellas in a gum tree behind us.

We open the van and discover that yours truly didn’t secure the bathroom door this morning (must have been the hangover) and it’s now happily jammed shut. It takes the two of us about 15 minutes of grunting and heaving to get it back on its tracks and working again. In the evening galahs and ‘Roos graze on the sports ground and we cook a couple of steaks on the bbq as the sun sets in a blaze behind the mountain.

Summary 341kms, power, water, toilets, showers, firewood and fire pit, $15, fridge on power. I wonder where the mountain is?