It's bitterly cold overnight; the differential between night and day has increased markedly since we left the coast, and I spend another shivering night, occasionally woken by the Yahoos (actually camper-vanners of 60 years and more) in the cabin next door. I'm up at 6.30, and miss the sunrise; this is becoming a bit of a theme. The rainbow lorikeets are raucous in the casuarinas and gumtrees overhead, as we sort out brekkie, and get on our way before 8.It's another hot and bright day, though the air still looks hazy in the distance, so presumably the bush fire is still going up to the north. We head in on the track towards Carnarvon Gorge, stopping periodically to stalk (in as far as 5 people in a white Toyota Tarago can stalk anything) an Australian Bustard and pack of Brolgas, by the side of the road. The further we go, the worse the track gets, the relatively smooth surface giving way to transverse corrugations, which are virtually impossible to travel over at anything other than dead slow - or at least they are in the Tarago; we've still got somewhere over 1500k to do in it by Sunday morning, and any delay would be potentially disastrous, so we need to treat it with a little respect. Plainly the hoon in a 4WD who comes past us at 40 or so doesn't feel the same need. Reluctantly, about 10k in, we turn round and head back to the main road. We're back there about 9, it's taken us an hour to do 20k.
Back on the Carnarvon Developmental, and we have a pitstop (a piestop would be more accurate) in Roma at about 11, send a few text messages, and head coastwards on the Warrego Highway. Idly, Van Morrison drifts through my mind. "Hey where Warrego, days when the rains came"...Another piestop a couple of hours later at Miles, and we press on. Somewhere about mid-afternoon, through the Darling Downs, Oakey power station flashes by; a photo has to be taken. Gowrie, ditto. Then we hit the coast, avoiding Brisbane about 5, and head on down to Murwillumbah about 6.30. We've done about 700k today; we feel that's enough.
Murwillumbah is quite a sizeable town, of some regional importance, but seems to retain a frontier character. The outside of the Imperial Hotel, though it veers between grand, imperial and deranged, does little to dispel the notion. Inside, it's more towards the grand end of the scale, yet somehow not. It's a strange old place, and no mistake. No mistaking a good restaurant when one appears, and Impys is just that. We sit, surrounded by photos on the walls of Murwillumbah's past as a commercial centre, as well as the Great Fire of 1907, and various floods. A fantastic meal arrives; mango chicken with pawpaw sauce. As sure as the half-cooked steaks in the Emerald Meteor were the worst meal of the trip, this is without doubt the best, against some pretty tough opposition. We tell the chef so, when he wanders past, and he's genuinely pleased.
Later, we wander to the bar, just as a guy is setting up to do a gig in the corner. He's good too, a league above standard pub singers; just him, a mike and an acoustic guitar. He's soon got the crowd singing along with him - half of them are probably his mates anyway, but none of this matters. We're in a bar full of loud yet extremely mellow people, and life is good.
Soon enough, the immortal words of Van come along. "Hey where did we go, days when the rains came"...
Out the back, the rooms are built around a 2-storey open courtyard, so there's a bracing quality about standing outside for a smoke.
Friday 13th
Another cold night, another hot day; we're up and away by about 9.45, after a big brekkie. The Tweed River valley and the whole area around are superbly beautiful; shame on me for not stopping to take photos. A little while down the road, we pass Mullumbimby. My mind goes back to Melbourne: Johnny, Sal, and anyone else I mentioned my plans to, said "Mate, you gotta go to Mullumbimby", without really saying why. As I'm driving. I take the decision, and we detour through Mullumbimby, so we do. It's... Well, I guess you have to be there. It is Mullumbimby, to the very life.About 300k south, past Coffs Harbour, and we turn inland towards Dorrigo. Here comes Van the Man again. "Hey where Dorrigo, days when the rains came"... We stop in Bellingen, looking for a place to stay, but nowhere really catches our eye. Which is how we end up at the Hotel Motel Dorrigo, "Cnr Hickory & Cudgery Streets", as their website says. Like the Imperial in Murwillumbah, it's grand. We check in, and check out the local restaurants for tonight.
Later, we head up to Dorrigo Rainforest Centre, with its Skywalk, the Lyrebird trail through the rainforest, and the amazing view out over the mountains and forest. I crawl along the Skywalk - literally - holding on to every rail I can find, since there's a stiff breeze blowing, and it must be moving, ooh, nearly a quarter inch each way. Pete, Claire and the family saunter past nonchalently. Another million photos are taken.Back at the Hotel Motel Dorrigo, unsurprisingly, it's cold. I wrap up in the sleeping bag, turn the heater on full, and have a quick nap. We step out looking for food; Misty's Restaurant, which we'd eyed up earlier, is fully booked, so since it's too cold to hang about, we march straight back to the Hotel to eat. It's, to be cruel, a little dull. There's actually nothing wrong with it at all, but perhaps it suffers in comparison with the mango chicken of last night. After a few beers, I head off to the room, and take to the sleeping bag again. Too cold to do anything else.
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