Syrup, hot damper and sapotes: Lungfish breathing, bunyips bubbling

After a delightful couple of days in the lush green sugar cane country of Bundaberg and its surrounds visiting friends in beautiful Bargara and discovering interesting new pieces of our family history jigsaw puzzle, we headed inland: our favourite place to be in Australia.

This is the hot damper part of the blog title. Inland we go and immediately long for hot damper cooked over burning coals. We aim to have some.

The town of Gayndah makes us think of oranges, but there are not so many orange trees near the road these days after a killer citrus disease swept through the region not so long ago, wiping out a lot of plantations. Here, though, they are still growing big oranges, though they might become more famous for making really terrible coffee. Our morning coffee was dire.

Amazingly, after early exploration Gayndah was one of the first settled areas in Queensland, and one of the earliest towns. It vied with Ipswich in an attempt to become Queensland’s capital at one stage, but lost out because its river was too shallow to support the shipping that would have been needed by a capital city.

Its very shallow river, the Burnett, is home too, to a really odd fish: the lungfish: native only to the Burnett and Mary Rivers. When left high and dry on a shallow sandbank as river waters recede on a regular basis, the fish is able to breathe like a human, using its lungs. An oddity of evolution in action.

The hills surround us as we head inland, and the grass-covered plains roll on endlessly. We enter whistling kite territory as we drive towards Munduberra They are wheeling and circling overhead, their distinctive white M markings flashing underwing as we drive. Not many, though.

Munduberra calls itself the citrus capital of Queensland, and regularly vies with Gayndah in a “State of Oranges“ rugby playoff to see who should really wear that guernsey. It is all fruit and fruit-picking hereabouts and as we attempt to hunt down a better coffee we notice a large number of young people around the small town centre, walking, chatting, playing on their mobiles, or simply resting. Backpackers, we assume: Japanese, Tongan, Papua New Guineans. Probably on a well-deserved day off. Then we learn that they are likely part of the Pacific Seasonal Worker’s Scheme, piloted a few years ago and now well established, which caters to workers who are prepared to take on seasonal work in rural and remote locations in Queensland. They bring a vibrancy to the town, and the caravan parks are busy so that must be an added bonus for the place.

We spent a lovely afternoon at the newish R M Williams Bush Learning Centre just as you enter Eidsvold. The Centre has been set up in this well maintained inland town by the shire and the Williams family as a tribute to R M who lived hereabouts.

The staff at the centre organise bush craft days and activities: including leather work, saddlery, wood and stone work, and offers meeting rooms for local clubs, along with camping spaces for the visiting public on its well kept grounds. It has a small yet perfectly formed information room with displays and videos on the life and times of R M. There is also a big gallery, which, when we were there was exhibiting aboriginal art and craftwork. I can see this entire complex being a big drawcard for this tiny outback town and the friendly service offered by the staff was second to none. A wonderful welcome to Eidsvold and the centre.

We called in at Mulgildie, the home of the swamp bunyip. At a waterhole just west of town strange things go bubble and bump in the night. So much so that over the years aboriginals and stockmen have refused to stop there. Terrified. According to aboriginal lore that mythical monster, the bunyip, can swallow huge beasts whole. It is best avoided.

The grass in the paddocks enroute to Cania Gorge glows silver in the setting sun. There has been recent rain and there are puddles still on the side of the road. Well-watered beef cattle dotting the paddocks munch a grassy supper as daylight gives way to early evening.