The Long Way Home - Chapter 9 - Gladstone Day 7

History – a word that creates memories of things, whether or not they are yours or something read or implied. Today we were going looking for Beautiful Besty, a World War II Lancaster that crashed in the hills around Gladstone in 1945. Unfortunately the weather is not kind today  so the plans change.

Still willing to wander, we decide to do a convoy into the hills to Builyan and beyond. Our destination is the Boyne Burnett Rail Track and takes in the times of days gone by. In the hills around it there was logging and gold prospecting. The old rail line cut in, around and through the rugged landscape. With time, came depletion of the veins of gold and the thinning of lumber supplies. The line fell into disuse and eventually like so many human endeavours, simply left to rot.

First port of call is Calliope where Robyn and I arrive ten minutes before the appointed time. John and Julie arrive momentarily. Bruce and his crew call as we pull up. They are still fitting child seats in Gladstone and will be along in due course. John suggests this is par for the course for his brother, happy to sledge his brother.

Soon enough the errant vehicle arrives to the chortling sledging of the waiting crowd. After a short discussion the latecomers lead off. We follow them onto the road but John and Julie’s vehicle has not followed. I pull to the side of the road in a truck pull off area just to see what is the issue. Julie beckons me back and U-turn the Cruiser and head back. 

Robyn notices I am on the wrong side of the road, mistaking the lines of the lay off as the divide of the main road. Other than a vehicle coming at us from the well up the hill above, there is no danger. Robyn chortles once I have corrected our orientation on the road, that such events require several paragraphs in the blog.

John’s vehicle is dead. The battery will not turn the engine over. It has been an intermittent problem and if he weren’t about to take delivery of a new vehicle he may have replaced the ailing battery. I have a set of jumper leads in the Cruiser but they are not needed. John breaks out a portable jump starter which he has purchased from Repco. He hooks it up and the engine fires. 

Robyn suggests they are a great idea for all our kids as a piece of emergency equipment for their cars.

Bruce and his crew have not seen us and are gone. John suggests we lead off. A dangerous suggestion given we have no idea where we are going. This comes to the fore very quickly as the phone rings after I have slowed because John has disappeared from the rear view mirror. I answer with “you broke down again”. The answer comes in the form of much laughter suggesting we missed the turn off.

In our defence the signage at the turnoff does not contain any indication as to the direction of Builyan, our suggested next stop. So as it has been in the first trip around Oz we are the final vehicle in the trio of intrepid trekkers.

The bitumen road becomes gravel. There are culverts as well as creek and river crossings, not to mention hills, crests and curves. Nothing a normal vehicle would not be able to encounter with ease and we see several travelling in the other direction. At Builyan, the suggested stop for coffee,  we don’t see Bruce, so John decides we go on. More gravel, more hills and curves, then at an intersection, John stops.

He was expecting Bruce to have waited for us at some point. Kayleen, the younger Parnaby, knows the area we want to explore very well and she is in Bruce’s car. Julie, who has been in touch with Kayleen via text, reveals they are still in Builyan at the coffee shop and will be with us shortly and to keep going, looking for certain signs.

John again chortles a sledge at his brother and continues to lead. We find the signs and follow them as far as they seem to go. An incorrect turn, a U-turn and we are suddenly in a car park, camping area. What would normally be an information board reveals nothing more than the fire places and toilets in the camping area.

We accost a couple of campers and ask where we went wrong. Apparently one of the signs has been dislodged and turned around. He gives us directions, clear and concise and we head off, take the correct turn and find ourselves exactly where we should be.

We will wait here for the others.

It is not long before they join us. The sledging continues. Bruce in his defence askes what was the last thing said in Calliope?  Stopping in Builyan for coffee. They were there, or so they say as we could not see them. 

We are all together now and we are about to walk the train tunnels of this area. As we leave the drizzle starts, much like the cricket in Sydney, its enough to be annoying but not enough to stop us. It is so light in fact we leave the umbrellas in the Cruiser.

We walk through the gate and fill in the registration book, well Kayleen does. Then it is off up a small incline and through a cutting to the first tunnel. There are no train tracks in the open air. At the head of the first tunnel there is a sign suggesting walking on the tracks is prohibited. 

The drizzle becomes rain as we enter the tunnel. Butterflies, moths and bats are all flying through the tunnel. We wander to the end where we can see the next one not far ahead. The rain is not threatening just enough to wet us but we continue on. Julie has no reason to get wetter and remains in the first tunnel. 

The next tunnel has no rails in it and is a much easier walk. Kayleen suggests there is a look out between tunnels 3 and 4 where we might get some shots of the valley. Unfortunately the rain is getting heavier. The umbrellas are still in the Cruiser and could come in very handy about now.

We continue on.

The rain is still enough to keep us wet without soaking us. The lookout is almost shrouded in a fog like haze from the drizzle but still allows some half decent shots of the valley. 

We continue on.

The fourth tunnel has an interesting sign suggesting that in the middle we should look up. Thinking we might see bat nests or something similar we venture along. In the centre of the tunnel we see why the sign was placed.

Apparently this is two tunnels, joining in the middle. The evidence are the two tunnels not joining together exactly. In fact the tops of the tunnels are about 30cm out of alignment. It would appear from our observations that they may have been started at either end, by at least two different foreman or engineers, at least teams. The evidence is overwhelming in the coursing of the concrete pours. At one end they are far different than at the other.

We decide to head back without checking out the final two tunnels. The humidity holds all the water in our drenched clothes all the way back to the vehicles. From time to time on the walk back I stop for shots of flowers dotted along the track.

At the vehicles we are all in agreement we need to eat. A little further on there is a pub that has just been bought by new owners. We wander in. We are immediately accosted by a barking dachshund. The dog has allies but are soon put in their place by the publican.

Bruce wants to celebrate the visit with a picture at the entrance. This done we are immediately asked for proof of vaccination and then sit at the bar to drink and have a conversation about their new purchase. The memorabilia around the bar and dining room is very interesting. Apparently there was quite a bit more including an old motor bike that the previous owners did not have title and was lost to a sale outside the hotel purchase. When they retrieved the bike for the new owners significant damage was done, not that you can see it even only three weeks after the changeover.

The menus are handed around. It’s a simple list of fares. I decided on the steak sanger, Robyn, the roast of the day. When the meals come they are far better than a “normal” pub. They are certainly far better than one might expect.

They thoroughly enjoyed continuing conversation. There is a jukebox and a pinball machine in the room, both of which are free to use. The pinball machine attracts me for a game or two. I fail miserably, losing balls to the avenue of no return with monotonous regularity.

Having had a couple of drinks with lunch the safer option is for Robyn to drive home which i am sure she is more than happy with the chance to have a go at the road. I, too, have a couple of photographs I want to take on the return drive.

Back in Builyan there is the coffee shop we were supposed to meet at the start of the day. It is named Kirsten’s Cottage and given our daughter’s name is Kirsten we must take a picture of it and send it to her.

She appreciates the gesture.

There are other shots along the road before the rain sets in again. At one point a cow blocks the road. Robyn sneaks up on the bovine and then blasts the horn to move the cow along. In another spot a cow is standing with a number of birds sitting on it. Unfortunately I missed that one.

Back at the van we are well and truly supped, such that we don’t need dinner, setting in for the evening before we get a call from our daughter. The Project is running an expose on what they call the Serial Killing Flinders Highway. Talking about the many unexplained deaths that have occurred including the death of my wife’s sister perhaps being the work of a single killer. Given the timings between those incidents in the article, it is unlikely.

There is also an assertion that none of the murders has been solved but at least we have the knowledge one might be finally solved in mid February should the person on trial for the three murders at Spear Creek near Mt Isa in 1975 be found guilty. If he is found guilty it is highly unlikely he will have committed the others given what we have been told of his life since the incident.

It’s not something we really want to contemplate.