Japan 2012: Bowen > Cairns

Wednesday, 24 November 2012

Bowen > Cairns

We've done the Bowen to Townsville bit so often this year that there's practically nothing that would surprise you other than a major spanner inserted forcefully into the works. For a brief moment it looked like that had happened when we got to the roundabout near Maidavale School and found the road we wanted to follow restricted to residential and roadworks traffic.

Earlier we'd methodically gone through the packing and checking process, much to the concern of three furry felines who mightn't have been totally sure what was going on but wanted admission to their daytime quarters in The Extension. The regular cause for concern came into play with a question about the fridge which could, in turn, have raised feline issues if they hadn't decided we were persona non grata for the time being.

Where they'd got to was uncertain, but he were on the road by eight fifteen with a scheduled rendezvous with the Ukulele Lady, who’d volunteered to babysit the chariot, around six, so we were able to take our time along the way.

Road closed at Maidavale might have prompted a retracing of the steps if we hadn't been using the iPad to find the shortcut through the back locks to bypass Ayr and Brandon a while back. It had been a good twenty years since I'd been that way, and our first attempt to track that way ended with great confusion that took us on a massive dogleg that came out at the servo near the Burdekin Bridge.

I'd done a bit of subsequent research, had nutted out the route in the opposite direction and, in the process, established one arm of the four that lead off the roundabout heads straight to Brandon, so that was where we found ourselves rejoining the Bruce Highway.

The run to and through Townsville was uneventful, a stop at the Frosty Mango north of Rollingstone provided a break and we were in Cardwell for lunch. The only major interest came when Madam decided she wanted a shot of the Cardwell Jetty, and was prevented from crossing the highway by a steady stream of traffic in both directions.

Smartarse Hughesy was on the verge of making a comment about heading back into the cafe for another round of crab sangas when the break in the flow came, but the fact that I hadn't actually made the remark didn't mean I escaped the consequences of the thought.

Madam had decided we were refueling there, and I sat in a hot car as the fuel dribbled into the tank seemingly drop by agonizing drop, and the payment process was equally glacial while the temperature in the parked vehicle rose. Still, I can afford to sweat off a bit of the old avoirdupois.

Back on the highway we ran in through Tully, Innisfail, Babinda and Gordonvale through threatening cloud cover, and had a minor hiccough when faced with a choice of routes into the Cairns CBD.  I chose the one I thought would have better traffic flow, but it was a case of varying mileages and dissenting opinions when we arrived at the destination just after four-fifteen.

Given the time you need to check in, shift gear, survey the surroundings, assess things in general and an hour and a half's rest we were off to put the car to bed just after six, returning about half an hour later after being dropped off by a Car Carer on her way to ukulele practice.

There was never much doubt about where we were headed for dinner, since the Cairns operation of the Roma Trattoria probably had Spaghetti alla Scoglio on the menu. They did, so that was it, the judge's opinion was final and there was no correspondence to be entered into.

There was, however a bit of discussion over a suitable wine to go with the heaping plate of seafood and spaghetti that was on its way. There were a good half dozen by the glass offerings I would have been happy to go for, but we ended up choosing an unwooded Chardonnay and a King Valley Pinot Grigio, which were both quite tasty though the Chardonnay finished about half a length ahead of the Grigio.

No prizes for guessing who ended up with the Grigio.

Before the arrival of the platter itself a helpful server delivered a pair of finger bowls and a pair of receptacles for shells and other detritus before a more practical colleague decided two of each was slightly over the top and halved the allocation. As it turned out we could definitely have used another finger bowl, but that was the only possible subject to gripe about.

Walking back to the Cairns Plaza Madam reckoned what we'd just had almost matched her first encounter with the dish in their Carlton operation. I'd had a risotto that time around, but we'd had another go on a return visit in Carlton and again four and a half years ago, and I was inclined to agree that this one was the best of the last three.

Back at base I wandered into the bar downstairs for a cleansing ale before the regulation tapping out of travelogues, with about two-thirds of the prelude completed by the time I decided to call it a night around nine-fifteen.