The tricky thing with weather forecasts is that they can change, and of course it has. So we woke up with more rain. A look at the various weather predictions meant that almost everywhere in a radius of 300 km it would still be miserable today and then progressively better. So up towards Toowoomba.
While we were still in bed discussing all this Marjo asked whether it was the 24th or 25th. I thought it was the 27th. Funny how that works when you’re traveling without clear purpose that time becomes meaningless. Then we looked on the iPad and said “happy anniversary”, our 27th.
To make it a bit of a special day we had – on a rather boring piece of road between Goondiwindi (by the way, the name is much more interesting than the place itself) and Toowoomba – an unplanned sidetrack. When we saw hand painted signs for winery and olive grove. After a few wrong turns, more turns, steep hills (the bus only could do that one in first gear) dirt roads we were about to give up. Then we saw a ute come our way and stop. It was the owner who said: “are you heading towards the olive grove because I was closing up and need to be at the doctor at 3 pm so have a little time.” Then he reversed and led us back to his place, unlocked the gate and showed us around.
The dogs were quiet in the bus while Marjo and I learnt about how he and his wife bought the 20 acre plot at the same time as many others as a lifestyle block from Allan Bond who planned a big project with marina, high risers, airport and more. Nothing of that eventuated apart from the olive grove and winery (he doesn’t grow grapes or produce wine but sells it from a friendly vineyard). He has 1,600 olive trees and produces 10 tonnes of olives, normally 15 tonnes, of which he gets about 1,000 liters of cold pressed virgin olive oil (first press). That is the best kind of oil and is used for direct consumption on lettuce and other dishes but would be a waste to cook with.
We tried some as well as the wines and bought a bottle of oil, a bottle of Merlot and a bottle of liqueur. We were tempted to buy his place (he sells it as he and his wife are close to 70 and want to travel) but decided against it.
Then we continued to Yarramalong where our next camping spot is, through more rain, avoiding road trains (a truck combination of at least 36 meters length) that race at speeds of 110 kph towards us in a spray of wind and rain or come up against us and overtake. The wind they produce is enormous and would easily blow a caravan off the road.
We didn’t take the turn to Texas although felt that we were in Arizona when we saw the large cactus bushes all along the road.
Arriving at Yarramalong we passed cotton fields (unexpected). The camping is a free one, probably because no one would pay to stay here. The entrance is so muddy that our bus couldn’t make it up the driveway and we had to skirt around it over the grass. Even that got a bit hairy but we got it done. We are the only visitors and when we got out we know why. By now the rain had stopped and there was even blue sky. But the wind was ferocious, and you could really only stand behind the bus, shielded from the wind.
Nossi and Marjo went looking for wood, he had a ball. Marjo grew by two inches and Nossi was dancing. We thought that the place was bewitched but logic prevailed. The claylike soil was wet and clumped under their soles that made Marjo taller and Nossi very nervous about the sudden weight on his paws.
Dotti and I made a fire which got interesting results with the hard wind and wet wood.
Now we are in the bus, the dogs asleep (Nossi nightmares of Dotti stealing his food – which she did and Dotti in heaven after finding bones everywhere and having stolen Nossi’s food) and Marjo and I not far from it. We had a nice dinner with rice, beef and veggies and coffee after. Life is good!
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