Queensland, I still love you. Sort of.
Queensland's not like it was in the good old days.
That's right, I want you to stay with me for a while as I get all nostalgic.
Nearly 30 years ago I tried to hitchhike around Australia.
All I had was time, a few dollars, and the sort of worldly experience you get from going to a private school in Sandy Bay.
In other words, I probably wasn't equipped for this sort of adventure, back when backpacker (and driver murders) were standard news items.
So after sticking my thumb out on the Bruce Highway, looking helpless and hopeless for two days, I threw in the towel.
I trudged slowly back to Southport on the Gold Coast, and bought a car.
It was a 1972 HQ Holden wagon (later fondly renamed the Wagon Queen Family Truckster), complete with rust holes and a three-speed manual transmission, but lacking niceties like a radio or air conditioning.
A $30 mattress with a few dodgy stains later, and I was ready to tackle the big wide world.
Day one, Noosa: The caravan park was closed when I arrived, so I bought a six-pack of Toohey's Old, parked my car in the main drag, read my book for a while, then collapsed in the back.
Around 4am, the local walloper bangs his torch on the window.
"Are you aware is an offence to sleep in a vehicle in Noosa Shire?" he asked.
What he meant, was "we don't want your type around here, so fuck off".
He assured me if I fucked off in accordance with local government statutes, he wouldn't arrest me as long as I agreed never to return to Noosa. He even followed me to the Shire boundary to make sure.
I loved the place as a result, and I've returned nearly every year since.
Day two, the Holden carks it: Somewhere around Maryborough, the HQ decides it kinda likes second gear, and stays there. This is a problem. It's 35 degrees outside, and I can't drive faster than 70km/h without the engine sounding like Bjork's last album.
Hours later, I track down a Holden dealer in Bundaberg. A sweet man with a lisp fixed my gearbox problem in two minutes with a hammer and squirt of WD40. He suggests a camping place called Mon Repos, and hints he might join me there later. Apparently there are turtles.
Days three to 45: Yes, there are turtles. But my new friend never joins me.
Mon Repos was a rare place: a free campsite, where just over the dunes, you could watch sea turtles lay eggs. Then, if you came back a few months later, you could watch the baby turtles hatch and get eaten by seagulls.
Ah hour's walk down the beach was a hamlet called Bargara. It had a surf club, a secondhand bookshop, a bakery and a place that sold mud crabs.
What more could you wish for? Bargara provided everything I needed for a fulfilling life. So I spend six weeks lying on the beach at Mon Repos, reading and looking for turtles.
So what is my point with all this?
Those old days are gone. I suppose that's to be expected - after all, not everybody's happy to sleep in a Holden wagon and live on mud crab sandwiches. Most places they'll run you out of town anyway if you try and kip in your car.
These days, travellers demand a heated pool (huh? isn't that a beach over the road?), nachos delivered on demand at 2am, and McDonalds.
So places where you still get the original Queensland vibe are thin on the ground.
There are a few though.
Let's start with Noosa. Noosa's residents (considered a bit uppity by most Queenslanders) hung out the 'no high rise developers' sign three decades ago. As a result, most of the original village is intact.
Yes, it's bloody expensive, but there's a surf club, one of the best beaches in Australia, and for the more refined, Wasabi, a world-class Japanese restaurant. Backpackers still aren't welcome.
Just north is Rainbow Beach, where you can camp in the dunes without paying anybody (although a sinkhole swallowed somebody's Nissan and caravan last year, so that's under review). There's an excellent surf club, and a pub, which has been remodelled. It's not a patch on the old boozer.
You can see Fraser Island from Rainbow Beach, and better still, you can catch a barge across. I wouldn't recommend taking the family Camry. Fraser is a vehicle killer - the best car for the island is a rented 4WD with a bucket of insurance.
I didn't get across to Fraser this trip (although you can read my thoughts on its history here: http://tasmaniantimes.com/index.php?/article/tasmania-20-years-behind-even-queensland/). Let's just say it's one of Australia's jewels, and well worth exploring for a week.
So back to Bargara. It was 29 years since my last visit, so I expected to see a few more shops. What I didn't expect was the giant shopping complex as you drive towards town. The old bookshop has been bulldozed and replaced by Woolworths.
Here's the thing: although Bargara has probably increased in size twentyfold since I was last there, the town planners have used their noggins. The beachfront remains intact. The surf club's a fancy architect designed thing now, but it's still the only building on the beach.
In short, Bargara still has the vibe.
You'll still find smaller towns like Bargara if you search for them, but they're disappearing fast.
As for the bigger towns, I'll write about some of them in coming weeks. In the meantime, here's the quick guide:
Gladstone: If you get your rocks off breathing fumes from coal-fired power stations, then Gladstone's your place. For everybody else, there's an excellent highway bypassing the town completely. If you have to stay around here, try one of the coastal towns a few miles south instead.
Airlie Beach: Think Noosa, but full of young people. Plenty of interesting looking restaurants, or you can just hang around the marina and look at the rich, lizard skinned baby boomers. The water is shark-infested.
Mission Beach: Most people who holiday here seem to spend their time at the bar. So the beach is deserted. It's one of the most beautiful spots on the entire coast, and the water is toasty warm. Shame it's filled with sharks and stingers.
Bowen: See comments above for Gladstone.
Cairns: Ask anybody who's been to Cairns, and after defending their holiday spend, they'll agree the place is a dump. The nice spots are further north. Cairns, for the 3 per cent of Australians who haven't been there, is a tired looking city favoured by backpackers. For the ultimate sad irony, we found a shop staffed by white people selling didgeridoos. Busking outside with a guitar was an aboriginal man.
Townsville: A surprise gem, and a great base for exploring the Whitsundays. Try to avoid it during cyclones.
That's right, I want you to stay with me for a while as I get all nostalgic.
 |
| The glorious shark-infested waters of Mission Beach. Yes, there are stingers too. |
Nearly 30 years ago I tried to hitchhike around Australia.
All I had was time, a few dollars, and the sort of worldly experience you get from going to a private school in Sandy Bay.
In other words, I probably wasn't equipped for this sort of adventure, back when backpacker (and driver murders) were standard news items.
So after sticking my thumb out on the Bruce Highway, looking helpless and hopeless for two days, I threw in the towel.
I trudged slowly back to Southport on the Gold Coast, and bought a car.
It was a 1972 HQ Holden wagon (later fondly renamed the Wagon Queen Family Truckster), complete with rust holes and a three-speed manual transmission, but lacking niceties like a radio or air conditioning.
A $30 mattress with a few dodgy stains later, and I was ready to tackle the big wide world.
Day one, Noosa: The caravan park was closed when I arrived, so I bought a six-pack of Toohey's Old, parked my car in the main drag, read my book for a while, then collapsed in the back.
Around 4am, the local walloper bangs his torch on the window.
"Are you aware is an offence to sleep in a vehicle in Noosa Shire?" he asked.
What he meant, was "we don't want your type around here, so fuck off".
He assured me if I fucked off in accordance with local government statutes, he wouldn't arrest me as long as I agreed never to return to Noosa. He even followed me to the Shire boundary to make sure.
I loved the place as a result, and I've returned nearly every year since.
Day two, the Holden carks it: Somewhere around Maryborough, the HQ decides it kinda likes second gear, and stays there. This is a problem. It's 35 degrees outside, and I can't drive faster than 70km/h without the engine sounding like Bjork's last album.
Hours later, I track down a Holden dealer in Bundaberg. A sweet man with a lisp fixed my gearbox problem in two minutes with a hammer and squirt of WD40. He suggests a camping place called Mon Repos, and hints he might join me there later. Apparently there are turtles.
Days three to 45: Yes, there are turtles. But my new friend never joins me.
Mon Repos was a rare place: a free campsite, where just over the dunes, you could watch sea turtles lay eggs. Then, if you came back a few months later, you could watch the baby turtles hatch and get eaten by seagulls.
Ah hour's walk down the beach was a hamlet called Bargara. It had a surf club, a secondhand bookshop, a bakery and a place that sold mud crabs.
What more could you wish for? Bargara provided everything I needed for a fulfilling life. So I spend six weeks lying on the beach at Mon Repos, reading and looking for turtles.
So what is my point with all this?
Those old days are gone. I suppose that's to be expected - after all, not everybody's happy to sleep in a Holden wagon and live on mud crab sandwiches. Most places they'll run you out of town anyway if you try and kip in your car.
These days, travellers demand a heated pool (huh? isn't that a beach over the road?), nachos delivered on demand at 2am, and McDonalds.
So places where you still get the original Queensland vibe are thin on the ground.
There are a few though.
Let's start with Noosa. Noosa's residents (considered a bit uppity by most Queenslanders) hung out the 'no high rise developers' sign three decades ago. As a result, most of the original village is intact.
Yes, it's bloody expensive, but there's a surf club, one of the best beaches in Australia, and for the more refined, Wasabi, a world-class Japanese restaurant. Backpackers still aren't welcome.
Just north is Rainbow Beach, where you can camp in the dunes without paying anybody (although a sinkhole swallowed somebody's Nissan and caravan last year, so that's under review). There's an excellent surf club, and a pub, which has been remodelled. It's not a patch on the old boozer.
You can see Fraser Island from Rainbow Beach, and better still, you can catch a barge across. I wouldn't recommend taking the family Camry. Fraser is a vehicle killer - the best car for the island is a rented 4WD with a bucket of insurance.
I didn't get across to Fraser this trip (although you can read my thoughts on its history here: http://tasmaniantimes.com/index.php?/article/tasmania-20-years-behind-even-queensland/). Let's just say it's one of Australia's jewels, and well worth exploring for a week.
So back to Bargara. It was 29 years since my last visit, so I expected to see a few more shops. What I didn't expect was the giant shopping complex as you drive towards town. The old bookshop has been bulldozed and replaced by Woolworths.
Here's the thing: although Bargara has probably increased in size twentyfold since I was last there, the town planners have used their noggins. The beachfront remains intact. The surf club's a fancy architect designed thing now, but it's still the only building on the beach.
In short, Bargara still has the vibe.
You'll still find smaller towns like Bargara if you search for them, but they're disappearing fast.
As for the bigger towns, I'll write about some of them in coming weeks. In the meantime, here's the quick guide:
Gladstone: If you get your rocks off breathing fumes from coal-fired power stations, then Gladstone's your place. For everybody else, there's an excellent highway bypassing the town completely. If you have to stay around here, try one of the coastal towns a few miles south instead.
 |
| Jobs and growth - Gladstone's coal-fired power plant |
Airlie Beach: Think Noosa, but full of young people. Plenty of interesting looking restaurants, or you can just hang around the marina and look at the rich, lizard skinned baby boomers. The water is shark-infested.
Mission Beach: Most people who holiday here seem to spend their time at the bar. So the beach is deserted. It's one of the most beautiful spots on the entire coast, and the water is toasty warm. Shame it's filled with sharks and stingers.
Bowen: See comments above for Gladstone.
Cairns: Ask anybody who's been to Cairns, and after defending their holiday spend, they'll agree the place is a dump. The nice spots are further north. Cairns, for the 3 per cent of Australians who haven't been there, is a tired looking city favoured by backpackers. For the ultimate sad irony, we found a shop staffed by white people selling didgeridoos. Busking outside with a guitar was an aboriginal man.
Townsville: A surprise gem, and a great base for exploring the Whitsundays. Try to avoid it during cyclones.
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