Outback: where is Longreach?

So, Longreach then. What does the name conjure up? Weather maps, the Stockman's Hall of Fame, Qantas, a long way west, Akubra hats and other cowboy clobber? Maybe you've never heard of it?

Longreach isn't where I thought it was. It isn't up Mount Isa way, but 650 kilometres to the southeast. It isn't in northern Queensland; it's due west of Rockhampton, on the Tropic of Capricorn. It may be nearly 1200 kilometres from Brisbane but it's fewer than 700 kilometres from the sea. The name derives from the long reach of the Thomson River. In 2010, millions of locusts invaded the town – more than there'd been for decades, according to locals – following two good wet seasons.

After where we'd been, Longreach seemed huge: its population is around 3000-4000, massive by Outback standards. There are several sizeable motels, peopled by large numbers of workers, not just grey nomads and tourists. There were extensive beautification works ongoing along Eagle Street, the main drag. Many road trains trundle along the Landsborough Highway which more or less cuts the town in two. All in all, much more bustle than we'd seen for a while.

click on pix to see them big

When you plan a trip, you can only do so much research beforehand; talk to so many people; then ultimately you have to choose where to go and what to do based on no direct experience. Inevitably, you'll later wish you had an extra day here; or fewer days there. I'd say Longreach was in the latter category. Having been in the middle of nowhere for days, we didn't fancy the usual kind of tourist stuff with lots of other people: museums, stagecoach rides, river cruises with dinner, helicopter rides, yee-har Outback shows. The Stockman's Hall of Fame was the exception.

We spent our first morning mooching along Eagle Street. Some shops look old-established, but aren't; others are genuinely of a bygone era; many fulfil a need for Outback paraphernalia.

 

Then it was time to get out of town, to Lily Lagoon, a 15-minute drive on the Winton (Landsborough Highway) and Muttaburra roads. It's a temporary waterhole created by the Thomson River system after good rains. It obviously wasn't the lily season, although I did find one still in flower. Some claim this lily is only found here. The Lagoon is an important refuge for birds, and I've never seen so many Cormorants congregating. There were also Darters, Egrets, Ducks and – not on the water – White-plumed Honeyeaters. Unfortunately cattle were trampling the shoreline: do they get everywhere?

 

On the way back to to town, Longreach Saleyards caught my eye. This is cattle country – and there were lots of patterns. Sheep are also big business in the region, and, increasingly, tourism.

The Thomson River was a little disappointing after others in the region. Apex Park turned out to be a huge overcrowded caravan park, so I looked in the other direction. A normally skittish White-necked Heron stayed remarkably poised as we walked past him over the footbridge.

The railway reached Longreach in 1892. Outback train stations seem to have become my latest obsession. Trains pass through Longreach only every few days, but when I turned up to photograph the station, I was told there was one due in 15 minutes. So I sat on the platform and waited like a passenger. But it wasn't a passenger train. At least the wagons were covered.

It was a beautiful evening. We ate in our motel restaurant, which was surprisingly good.

Next up was the Australian Stockman's Hall of Fame and Outback Heritage Centre  – to give it its full name. The building's design is empathetic with its well-presented content, the history and culture of rural life in Australia. Outside stands The Ringer (stockman or cowboy) with the inscription: 'He loved every minute it brought him, This beautiful outback so fine'.

Inside there are five themed galleries that describe the geological formation of the Australian continent to its first inhabitants and explorers; the pioneers who followed the explorers, and the first pastoralists; the struggle of settlers on difficult land in a harsh climate; the development of townships and all aspects of outback life, including the valuable roles of Aborigines and women; and a detailed insight into stockmen at work and at play. Exhibits are punctuated with stories of famous characters, homesteads and companies; accounts of unsung heroes whose experiences and effort typified their era; audiovisual presentations; reconstructions of settlers' cottages, bullock wagons, homestead kitchens and a flying doctor plane; and thousands of artefacts, photographs and artistic interpretations of a much-celebrated way of life.

We could have spent a lot longer. I wish two things: that there was more light on the exhibits. I found myself peering at info panels in half light, but maybe it's supposed to make you feel as if you're back in time. Of greater disappointment, however, was the absence from the bookshop of a weighty tome including all the information and images we'd been engrossed in for four hours. There used to be one, we were told.

That evening we returned to the Stockman's Museum site, to the Cattlemen's Bar and Grill for supper, largely for one reason – so I could eat damper. Damper is traditional bush tucker, bread made from flour and water, and cooked in the ashes of the camp fire. It was an explorer's staple food among meagre rations. When expeditions stretched into years, it was often the only food. It's supposed to be hearty and, in photographs from way back when, it's always round and dense-looking. Mine was round but there the similarity ended. On cutting, it was light and insubstantial, full of air and holes and wouldn't slice; what we'd call a cob back home; an overgrown bread roll, basically. What a disappointment; good job the rest of the food was good. There was a yee-har show if you wanted to combine it with dinner in a deal. We didn't.

The following morning we were off at first light to our final destination of the trip, Carnarvon Gorge National Park. We had arrived in Longreach in the dark, so I made sure I snapped the welcome sign as we headed east on the Landsborough Highway.

In Longreach all the streets are named after birds: those running east to west are for the most part named after water birds; and north-south after land birds. This was a bit perplexing at times. Hundreds of noisy Little Corellas (below but one) were in a tree in Galah Street.

Other favourite photos of Longreach – which grew on me after a couple of days – included these.

 

The only good Cane Toad is a squashed one, I imagine they say in the Outback.

Bimblebox: bad news week

After all the waiting, submissions, monitoring of China's economic health and commodity prices, talk of less dependence on coal, and optimism for a cleaner energy future, the decision we've been dreading was announced last Friday. Queensland's Co-ordinator General approved Waratah Coal's Galilee Basin mega mine, which will destroy Bimblebox Nature Refuge.

Having considered the Supplementary Environmental Impact Statement, the CG is satisfied that the economic advantages of the mine outweigh the loss of biodiversity and laying waste of the land. Few people can be surprised at the outcome. Hoping against hope cannot undermine the grim reality that coal is still king in Queensland.

I have not read much of the Co-ordinator General's evaluation report of Waratah's EIS*; mainly his conclusions about Bimblebox. He believes that BNR's fauna and flora ecological values can be found elsewhere in the desert upland bioregion; that BNR's conservation, educational and research values can be replicated in the proposed offset area; and, disappointingly, he quotes from the EIS's conclusion that

'the coal resource cannot be economically mined in this part of the Galilee Basin without access to the shallow coal seams underlining the BNR and that as a consequence of mining, the ecological integrity and conservation value of the BNR cannot be maintained.' 

Finally, and chillingly, he states:

'On balance, I recognise the values of the BNR but do not consider them sufficiently high or unique that the project should not proceed in the interest of saving the BNR.'

If I were a cynic, I'd say the Co-ordinator General's decision is timed...
• so that voters receive 'good news' for Queensland's economy in the form of jobs creation** and royalties just before the Federal election;
• so that environmental concerns are smothered not only by the widespread Australian apathy towards green issues but also drowned out in the pre-election clamour for lower living costs and better balanced budgets;
• and in the hope that the ultimate decision, at Federal level, will be made by an LNP Environment Minister.

I'd also ask whether...
• the 'strict conditions' of approval that include the vacuous and unproven concept of offsetting require far more detail about exactly how monitoring the conditions will be managed and judged to be adequate, and by which independent body;
• all proposed mega mines in the Galilee Basin should be forced to share the same, one and only rail corridor to the coal-exporting point;
• EIS and SEIS assessment would not be better executed by a public servant not in the employ of the Department of State Development, Infrastructure and Planning, whose website admits that the CG role has evolved since its inception so that it concentrates more on facilitating private-sector infrastructure projects than public works. The CG's boss is Jeff Seeney, I would point out.
• instead of simplifying the argument down to jobs vs biodiversity, society should perhaps consider how regions in need of further economic development, such as northwest Tasmania, could be subsidised by all taxpayers and conservation elevated to a higher level than merely 'green tape'.

This weekend the resolve of many environmental activists and protest groups will be to strive even harder to raise the profile of Bimblebox, and try to ensure that designated nature reserves warrant some level of protection from mining or other development. We stand behind those who have worked so hard to maintain Bimblebox and fought so hard for its survival. Please help promote their cause by sharing this post.

* http://www.dsdip.qld.gov.au/resources/project/china-first-coal/galilee-coal-cg-report.pdf
** the Australian Institute, a progressive independent think tank, claims that Waratah's own economic impact statement concludes that more jobs will be lost, especially in manufacturing, agriculture and tourism, than created in the running of the mine (after construction)

Plugs and pumpkin

I've lost count of the number of times I've had to ask for a bathroom plug in accommodations in Australia. Even in Sydney hotels. It's a problem I've rarely come across before, in wealthy countries at any rate. (When we moved into this extortionately expensive 'luxury' apartment, there was only one plug between two basins in our ensuite.)

There'll likely be a plug in the bath, and I'd be happy to use that for the hand basin, except that it's usually bigger and doesn't fit. If it's a question of economy, then I'd rather have a plug for the basin because I prefer a shower, so I don't need a bath plug, whereas I do run water in the basin at least twice a day.

Whenever I ask for a plug, more often than not I get a strange look. Like I'm eccentric; weird even.

Three months before we arrived in Australia, a decade-long drought came to an end. During that time there were stringent water conservation measures in place. You had to have a water tank in which to collect water for the garden and toilet flushing; shower heads were modified to reduce flow; that kind of thing. I'm sure there must have been lots of other simple advice given to citizens, such as showering with a friend; not keeping the tap running while brushing your teeth or washing your face; placing a brick in the toilet tank; recycling washing-up water; and so on. Plugs are a must-have part of water conservation, aren't they?

I wasn't surprised they were missing in basic accommodations in the remote outback. When I asked for one in a motel in Charleville, the lady remarked that the plug must have 'walked' with a previous guest. At first I thought, crikey, you have to be pretty impoverished to steal a rubber plug. But in fact it's perfectly understandable: whoever it was thought they might need one in the next place. I have now added 'plugs' to my extensive list of what to take when travelling, and my Bunnings shopping list.

So, missing plugs are on a growing list of things that are usually the case here. Ubiquitous pumpkin is another. Pumpkin is overwhelmingly Australians' favourite vegetable. Ninety times out of a hundred in cafes and restaurants the soup of the day will be pumpkin; 99 times in winter. In addition, there will be pumpkin in salads, roast dinners, pies, scones, muffins, pasta sauces, quiches, bread, curries, risotto, casseroles and on pizzas. Dear gods, pumpkin really isn't that good. It's inoffensive – apart from a slightly slimy consistency sometimes – but it's a long way from delicious, isn't it? I've really tried to acquire the taste. I ordered it in a really good-looking salad in a deli on Hawthorne Road a few days ago, but I ended up leaving quite a lot on the side of the plate. I'm just not that into pumpkin.

There are lots of other food experiences that happen automatically, before you remember, too late, what is likely to turn up if you don't specify exactly what you want. For the record, please don't assume:
• I want cream with my cake
• I want my cake warm, especially if it's a chocolate brownie or mudcake

• I want my toast buttered for me, while it's still hot 

• I want brown sauce on my egg-and-bacon sandwich
• I want my croissant hot, with cheese and ham, strawberries and ice cream, or dipping chocolate

• I want nuts sprinkled over my yoghurt

• I want my olives warm

• I want salt on my chips
• I want my steak swimming in sauce
• I want my wine poured for me
• You can collect other people's plates if I'm still eating

There is, in general, an overcomplication of food matters. In the last week, I've seen muesli and honey muffins and chilli, chocolate and pumpkin muffins. Noooooooo, thank you. Do you have a plain chocolate one? No bits, no nuts, no nothing?

I'll never forget, not long after we moved into our first house in Brisbane, I went shopping for tuna in a supermarket. Twenty-five minutes later I left the canned fish section, empty-handed. I had never seen so many variations on a theme. In the UK, tuna comes in olive oil, sunflower oil, spring water or brine. In Australia, the choices include with sundried tomato and basil, oven-dried tomato and basil, lemon and cracked pepper, natural smoked, onion and tomato and savoury sauce, zesty vinaigrette, spicy chilli, sweet chilli, mango chilli, chilli and lime and ginger, tomato chilli, tomato and capsicum (sweet pepper), beans, roast capsicum and three bean, sweet mustard, tomato salsa, puttanesca, onion savoury sauce, soy and ginger, garlic and soy, sweetcorn and mayonnaise, Thai red curry, mild Indian curry, Mexican style, Japanese style, Italian style, Spanish style and Moroccan style, as well as the oil/springwater/brine options.

Too much choice, man. Makes me crave the simple life. Actually, I haven't bought tuna in a while. Most tuna is not fished sustainably or humanely. End of story. Phew.

Wintry weather

It's fascinating when a weather phenomenon behaves as predicted, bang on cue. I'm thinking the summer Mistral in the Rhône Valley of France, the South Asian Monsoon in India, or the Morning Glory roll cloud in the Gulf of Carpentaria. Perhaps I can add to that list the westerlies that coincide in South East Queensland with the Ekka* in August. Queenslanders link these two events.

I've never really noticed the westerlies: Brisbane is a windy city much of the time. Since we've lived in Queensland, we think of August as having beautifully sunny, almost perfect weather. We recommend August to prospective visitors. A couple of years ago, my sister-in-law basked in the garden every morning and marvelled at the warm sunshine day after day. She lives in Manchester – whose rain recently ensured that the Ashes remain in England.

Typical August weather took its time to arrive this year: July was greyer than usual. A recent visitor arrived on 30 July but the weather wasn't right at all. There were a couple of serious showers as we sat over coffee at Riverside admiring the Brisbane River. He left a week later, by which time normal service had been restored. As we drove into the CBD with the windows down and warm sunshine flooding into the car, he turned to me and said, 'And this is winter?'

The Ekka began on Wednesday with the beef cattle judging. Cattle stations in Far North Queensland have been doing it tough, as the Aussies say, since the monsoonal rains didn't materialise as usual last summer. The agricultural show must be a welcome distraction. If you've never been to the Ekka, I would recommended it. It's a great taste of rural Queensland life. If you like little furry farm animals, it's a joy: but if you're concerned about the overuse of plastic bags, it's a nightmare.

Food consultant Alison Alexander on ABC Brisbane on Friday reported that she'd been judging marmalade at the Ekka this week. And yesterday at the Powerhouse farmers' market we picked up the winner from the Orange Juice Man.

I took our visitor to my favourite place, of course. He'd heard so much about Byron Bay, there was high expectation. It was a perfect day: being a weekday, there were parking spaces whenever we needed them; available tables in the sun outside Twisted Sista; and uncrowded beaches and cliff paths. There were whales still heading north and dolphins just off the Cape. Lying on Wategos Beach, the sun was very warm, but not burning, with a gentle breeze.

I've never felt so good about winter in my life.

* the annual Royal Queensland (agricultural) Show held at Brisbane Exhibition (hence Ekka) Ground

August already

The year may be flying by, but there have to be some serious changes before we get to that time when supermarkets stock festive foods far too early and idiots counting down shopping days.

Firstly, I have chosen to move. As the nightmare on Lamington Street begins, I wonder why I'm putting myself through this when it wasn't absolutely necessary. It is difficult to co-ordinate the date you leave a rented property in order not to incur additional extortionate costs by breaking lease, with the availability of a house-you-like whose owner 'needs' to let long before you're free to move in, and this in a world that cares little for the tenant yet fully protects the landlord. Less than a month before I have to vacate, I have no idea where I'll be moving to, so I can't book removalists – I vowed I'd never use that word – or arrange the many aspects of cleaning the place that have to be done professionally and with proof, on pain of substantial loss of your bond. And what is fair wear and tear exactly?

Secondly, there will be the second Federal election since I moved to Australia, although no one knows that date either. I have been away in Victoria and Sydney or otherwise preoccupied for the last couple of weeks and have rarely seen a news broadcast or read a paper. It's been rather a relief, since I have not felt comfortable with the reincarnated Kevin Rudd PM. I think he's been quite smart in his pre-election agenda. He's wasted no time in trying to steal the thunder of the potentially-disastrous-for-Australia Oppo leader Tony Abbott, who has become even more irritating than usual by saying everything three times, even more slowly. Carbon pricing will morph into an emissions trading scheme ahead of the original schedule; there's a stringent 'stop the boats' plan in place to deal with refugees and immigrants arriving dangerously and illegally; and Kev's carried on trying to convince the states to sign up to Labor's 'Gonski' school funding programme, forcing an LNP U-turn on its abolition.

However, Julia Gillard's treatment during the last three years, and the manner in which Rudd claimed back his position as Prime Minister, garnering a fraction of the opprobrium she did when she replaced him, has left something of a nasty taste in my mouth. I've lost my umph when it comes to Aussie politics. And once the election campaign gets underway, and the competitive out-and-out bribery of voters commences, I fear I may tune out altogether. I am not entitled to vote, either. I will probably just stand and stare, and inevitably despair.

Many people have said to me – and they were not people who counted themselves as Labor supporters necessarily – that they cannot bear the thought of Tony Abbott as Prime Minister. Yet I haven't seen any concerted and co-ordinated effort to convince voters of the potential backward step this would represent in so many crucial areas – environmental protection, response to climate change, equality of opportunity, monitoring of big business and mining, and support of underprivileged minorities – by Labor, the Greens, lobby groups or activists, from Lock the Gate Alliance to Agforce.

While Rudd has been busy, Abbott has been, well, I'm not sure what he's been doing. Having failed to bring down Julia Gillard's minority government, yet still commanding a significant lead in the polls, he suddenly seems to be playing catch-up in the action. An LNP leadership spill before the election would certainly not help Labor – Malcolm Turnbull would almost certainly beat Kevin Rudd – but is there one in the offing?

Here's a nice cliff for lemmings – pollies or voters – to jump off if they wish. It's The Gap at South Head near Watsons Bay in Sydney.