It’s a steep drive up to the scenic rim town of Maleny on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast hinterland, which when we visit is in the midst of a yarn bombing Knitfest. Town benches are draped with crochet rugs. Trees have knitted … Continue reading Maleny
The Cooroy RSL has a delightful chalkboard out front encouraging passersby to add a message. Some maybe naughty and some maybe cheeky but others like “Wet my pants laughing” just bring a smile to your heart. Continue reading Before I die I want to…
From the poem My Country by Dorothea Mackellar Continue reading And orchids deck the treetops
It makes you wonder… Continue reading Gumboil Road
Camp Cooroora is a scout camp situated on Noosa’s water supply, Lake MacDonald. It has a large grassed area with powered sites around the perimeter. If it weren’t for the espresso machine we could have happily gone without power in the centre. There is access to the lake for canoeists and leafy walks through the bush. There is a large camp kitchen, old but spotless amenities and genial hosts Reg and his missus to look after things. Considering that the caravan park in Noosa charges double our costs and at $15 a head and 15 minutes from Noosa we’ve scored … Continue reading Camp Cooroora
The playpus is an elusive creature and I doubt that I’ll ever be swift enough or patient enough to ever get a photo of one. But they are about and sometimes if you’re lucky a few bubbles can be spotted. Continue reading Watch Your Waste
The little town of Morven in Queensland is famous for it’s goat races a theme that is joyfully replicated on the town’s toilet block. Continue reading Morven
Now here’s a problem all of you mariners will be familiar with. Continue reading All at Sea
Camped in Rollingstone, Qld we had a shower of rain during the night. (Readers please note: a shower in tropical north Queensland seems to be the equivalent of Melbourne’s annual rainfall in a matter of ten short minutes). We raced outside to drop the clears on the annexe and by the time we’d finished unrolling and zipping the rain had almost stopped. All we could do was stand and laugh because I was in a T shirt and Woody in his undies and there we were soaked to the skin and dripping, just a couple of drowned old farts. Continue reading Wet T Shirts
