Heartbroken at the Creekside Hotel

May 2018 We’ve just arrived at Warracknabeal in Victoria’s Wimmera for a caravan club muster and our dodgy bathroom drawer has done another backflip, this time emptying everything onto the floor. While Woody directs caravans into parking spots I’m on my knees picking his heart tablets out of the floor rug. Then rain disrupts our happy hour and sends us scurrying off to the pub early. The big old Creekside Hotel with its blazing fireplaces is warm and welcoming on this chilly autumn evening and the meals are top notch. Sometimes it’s hard to guess which pub will provide the … Continue reading Heartbroken at the Creekside Hotel

The Bitter End

In an effort to enjoy every iconic pub in this country sometimes we stumble and it this one we came a cropper. Aug 2018 With a bunch of mates we have lunch at the ‘B’ Hotel and it is memorable. I am ‘lucky’ enough to get the last serve of the daily roast pork. Funny we’re the first diners to order and they’ve only got six serves. Now I know the true meaning of ‘bitter end’ because I am confronted with a plate full of bitter, chewy and dry, day old roast ends. Is it any wonder that they gave … Continue reading The Bitter End

We were at Ilfracombe June 2018

Because the RV repairman lives in Ilfracombe and our fridge is on the blink we have booked into our old favourite the Ilfracombe Caravan Park. We roll on in feeling like we’ve come home and who should be staying next door at the Wellshot Pub but our mates TnT (Gawd, I thought we left them behind in Warracknabeal, Vic a month or two back) who are visiting with the ‘Country Pub Camping’ Facebook group. We catch up for drinks in the pub ‘beer garden’ and meet the illustrious Jackie B the founder of the incredibly successful Country Pub Camping group. … Continue reading We were at Ilfracombe June 2018


May 2018 From Yowah we hit the road again and for another one and a half hours of red dirt and mulga, though at one point we are arrested, as we crest a ridge, by a fabulous view of hundreds of kilometres of …wait for it… red dirt and mulga. (sorry no photo, I was driving) Around lunchtime we pull into Toompine Hotel known as “The pub without a town”. A corrugated classic with an old tennis court out front and a row of accommodation dongas happily labelled Toompine Terraces. Built in 1893 The Toompine was once a Cobb & … Continue reading Toompine

Goin’ to the Garradunga

Her doors are all open to the warm breeze in true Queensland fashion. There’s a pair of crossed cane knives etched into her doorstep. She’s been around a while and she’s seen the cane grow higher than high, year after year. This is sugar country and she’s a sugar pub. And inside it’s as dark as molasses. The publican’s missus moves easily behind the bar pulling beers and quickly shoving the glasses into stubby holders to keep them cold. She’s cooking chips for a road worker, “the bridge is out you know”. And lunch for an old geezer at the … Continue reading Goin’ to the Garradunga