Mt Coot-tha & Rural Brisbane

In the closing week or two at Brisbane we headed out west (and north-west) to the inland must-see spots of Mount Coot-tha and to Slickers horse riding’s near Dayboro.

Alex has been busy working to bring in a little money as well as writing his novel so hasn’t had the chance to write up a new blog entry so I offered to take the reins and update all you lovely people on our latest adventures. I should warn you in advance though, it has been suggested by some that I have a tendency to ramble and so with this in mind I would ask you to stop reading, go make yourself a cuppa and when you’re back make sure you’re nice and comfy.

Okay. Are you ready? Then I shall begin…

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Whales of Moreton Bay

On the morning of Sunday 2nd October, we were up bright, early and excited. For the first time we would see one of the planet’s great wonders, one of the largest animals alive today: Humpback Whales, or Megaptera novaeangliae. Heading up the coast a few dozen kilometres to Redcliffe, we arrived to find the car park we’d been advised to use had a market on top of it. Still, we had an hour to kill, so we took a look around and it turned out it was rather a good market, where Lucy picked up a pair of Happy Pants. Everyone needs a pair of Happy Pants! Anyway.

The boat that took us out from Redcliffe jetty was a catamaran called Eye Spy. And I know that modern catamarans are fast, but- well, that doesn’t prepare you for being on one. If you’ve ridden a fast ferry or such recently you’ll know what I mean. It’s like a speedboat the size of a restaurant. Once underway, we headed outside the cabin to the open deck, enjoying the placid speed as the fairly strong wind was with us so it hardly felt like there was a wind at all.

Suddenly the boat’s engine went quiet and we slowed to a bobbing halt. I could have sworn I heard the sound of whale song at that moment; sure enough, they’d begun playing whalesong through the loudspeakers (that were used to communicate narration by the resident expert on the Humpbacks: Captain Kerry Lopez). Playing the sounds on the speakers while catching the first glimpse of the slick black forms breaking the surface might sound like a bit of a smoke & mirrors trick, but the effect was charmingly completing.


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From Ipswich to Ipswich

And so we had arrived in Brisbane late Sunday night. Lucy was due to begin work with Pet & Vet Springfield Lakes on Monday, at 7am. The drive was half an hour though, plus a half hour contingency, plus getting ready time, equalled a fair 5am start. We found our way to the veterinary practice no trouble; a little place called Springfield Lakes in a town called Ipswich, which I am sure we have heard of somewhere.

Content in knowing I was in a Nuclear-free zone, my return drive to the motel was reassuringly radiationless. I got experimental with the route on the way back; I loathe Satnavs and have managed quite well thus far using the highly advanced “reading signs” method, so this was all playing rule of thumb. I was here to explore and the result led to an overall greater understanding of the area. Continue reading

Roadtrip Brisbane

I was a little relieved to wake up feeling as I did Saturday morning; an able-minded member of human society again but still in a great deal of pain. My brain knew that Brisbane was a long way, but nothing I compared it to seemed to give my brain the sense of distance I would be dealing with. I decided to just take it as it came, so bring on the Hyundai.

The car was brand new, registered Western Australia with just 3,800 km on it. We were going to add at least another third on that. We had snacks, supplies and ample water for the desert of broken glass that was my throat. A quick glance at the road map, then we shot off north over the harbour bridge, waving a fond farewell to Sydney (for now).

After about ninety million traffic-sodden intersections of north Sydney, we arrived at the Pacific Highway. This is exactly as you might imagine it (minus the Pacific part admittedly, which is typically 4-5 km away). But it was just the kind of heavy-duty, 18-wheeler, cliff-lined, palm-tree’d, sweeping vista’d freeway that I (and many cooped up UK drivers) always wanted to drive on.

We drove for ages, and then some. It was a big ol’ highway. I took a scenic detour, then we decided against it for time was pressing, so we rejoined the Pacific. We continued driving. Time passed. George R. R. Martin probably wrote another book. Then finally, we came upon Newcastle, for we needed a break. And how far along the route was this great leap to Newcastle?

About a fifth, actually.

Still, I was enjoying the scenery and the geographical milkshake of placenames, if not the fact that my throat felt drier than the rocks by the roadside. Shadows were beginning to lengthen by this point, so we settled on reaching Armidale. But by Tamworth, some 150km short, it was pitch black so we grabbed some fuel just in case. When we did eventually get to Armidale it was just 8pm, but it felt like midnight. We found a motel, more expensive than we’d hoped but very fancy all the same, so took it. Continue reading