Discussions as we drove out of Rocky the next morning suggested we’d found the right place to stay on the return leg of future southern odysseys, and while I’d go for other arrangements for the second last day (assuming we were heading away from Springfield Lakes, there’s not much room for manoeuvre if you’re heading off from Southport), the prospect of an uncomplicated last day drive had plenty to recommend it.
An hour or so from Rocky to Marlborough, one and a half to Flaggy Rock, a further hour to Mackay and two more to Bowen with a meal break somewhere along the line is hardly conducive to complexity, given the relative lack of alternatives along the way.
That second last day option needs investigating, and I’d be inclined to make the return journey a three day event, with the first day heading out to Toowoomba, Dalby or Kingaroy, but those issues are, of course, a matter for future negotiations.
Negotiating our way out of Rocky that morning would have been a fair bit easier if we’d done the calculations a bit earlier and concluded that we might need to refuel in the city, just to be on the safe side, rather than deferring the issue till Marlborough or points north.
We were past the most obvious left-side options on the divided carriageway by that point, but two U-turns and a pit stop on the southbound side addressed the issue without creating major complications, and the hour-long stretch to Marlborough passed without incident or excitement.
after that, once we’d hit the 110 kph section it seemed like no time at all till we were in sight of the end 100 sign at Clairview, even though there had been a toilet stop along the way, and it wasn’t long after that before we found ourselves discussing the takeaway options for Flaggy Rock home made ice cream while we waited for brunch.
It should come as no surprise to learn that Hughesy opted for the almost obligatory hot dog, though Madam veered off in the direction of a salad sandwich before establishing that the takeaway ice cream came in pre-packaged packs of a single flavour (rather than giving you the choice of a bit of this and a bit of that) and, anyway, they were low on ice so it wasn’t an option anyway.
Possibly, now that we’ve got the iPad as a navigational aid, we’ll be diverting off the main highway before Mackay’s City Gates, but I’m not convinced there’s a better option anyway, and by the time the subject was raised we were past the most obvious alternative route through Homebush.
From the City Gates, the run along the banks of the Pioneer, turning off that road just after Marian and rejoining the Bruce Highway at Kuttabul is so familiar that it’d take a significant development to give anything to comment about, and once we were back on the main track it was only a matter of deciding against a refuelling stop at Bloomsbury before we found ourselves passing through Proserpine with the scheduled two-thirty arrival in Bowen looking like a definite possibility.
Much of that last leg was spent discussing whether the length of time we’d been away, comprising as it did about a quarter of their young lives, would mean that three kittens would have forgotten us, but, as it turned out, between Mother Alison and three juvenile memories it wasn’t long before the familiar calls for sustenance resumed amidst our own efforts to revert to the sedentary lifestyle.
Sedentary is, of course, hardly a synonym for uneventful, and within an hour of pulling into the driveway Hughesy was on the blower to the cabinet makers and The Actor negotiating the arrangements for pulling out the old model and installing the gleaming new arrangement on the other side of the office wall.
But that’s hardly travelogue material, eh?
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