Day 54 Saturday 1/7/2023 Gin Gin, sunny with a cold start 7 – 21

Woody is up early galloping around town and cooking Childers bacon for his breakfast. The fat left in the pan would be enough to give his cardiologist a heart attack. Our electric fan heater breathed its last this morning, which means we’ll have to invest $20 in another one when get to Rockhampton.

Elle arrives from visiting friends in Bundy and scores a site beside us. She is proudly displaying her new artwork from the Pour and Paint class she attended while in Bundaberg.

Elle asks the caretaker about TV reception which is dodgy here. He suggests that she adds a length of piping to her aerial and runs a wire through it. She asks if it’s so easy, then can he do it for her! These are well-run Showgrounds thanks to the efforts of manager Trev, but no, he doesn’t extend aerials. Our window view today is a clutch of ibis who wander about like weird chooks feasting on the remains of horse feed. There are fruiting banana palms beside a shed, and wooden stables with the sign “Please pick up your horse droppings”.

The move north from Childers, albeit short, brings new sounds. Torresian crows and my favourite, the tiny Bar Shouldered Dove. The gentle coo of this little bird provides the soundtrack to northern Australia.

There’s a nasty band of rain tracking across the continent from Broome and due to reach us by Monday. We agonise over where to go next but being QLD school holidays most caravan parks are bound to be full. We decide on another night here and to then aim for Miriam Vale.

Showgrounds are always interesting places to stay and offer most of the facilities of a caravan park, or at least the facilities that grey nomads need. We’re not that fussed with swimming pools, mini golf, and jumping castles. These showgrounds like so many others are busy with local events and activities, and they give a feel for life around here. A function is being set up in the hall just over from us and 3 horse floats have pulled in for the night beside us. The owners sleep in their floats while the horses count sheep in the stables, hence the sign about picking up your horse droppings. It’s like a horse motel really. As the locals roll up in their 4-wheel drives, dressed to the nines for tonight’s function, army trucks begin rolling in on the other side of the arena. They’re overnighting on their way to wherever. Though we’re guessing it’s the 13-nation war games that take place on the coast in winter.

VeeWee is now in Biggenden. Double or Nuthin and Shirley Temple are in Cowra on their way north. Toothless and his Missus are in Broome and complaining of the cold. The temperature must have dropped below 30 degrees over there!

Woody wonders why the fridge isn’t as cold as it should be, and we realise that I forgot to turn the mode knob over to electricity. Whoops, another pink job fail.

We pool our chicken and vegetables with Elle and share a stir fry.

Accom: $25.00