The Ride of the Bakeries

Barcaldine is known as “Barky” to all and sundry, I suspect because no one can agree on where to place the emphasis (Bar-CALL-dine or BAR-calldine) and is home to the “Tree of Knowledge”; a kind of shrine for trade unionists and comrades alike, dating back to the Great Shearers’ Strikes of the 1890s. Some genius killed the tree off a few years back, unknowingly strengthening the legend and the degree of reverence.

                                                      Tree of Knowledge, Barcaldine

There is also a museum in the town that highlights the efforts of trade unions, particularly those working in the Queensland Civil Service. A photo of my great-grandfather Thomas Foley appears there as a union official and he later became a MLA in the Queensland Parliament (guess for which party). I hadn’t seen many photos of him but he was only the lead-up act to the main event - for in the display of the Golden Casket (State-run Lottery Agency) there is a large photograph of a group of staff who entertained the office at a social function – the men dressed as ballerinas and the women dressed as male dancers – and there – in the middle of it all – is my father – replete in ballerina costume – captured in time. Pappy rose in the ranks to be second in charge of the Casket by the end of his career, but while portraits of the old managers are displayed somewhat drearily around the board, they have to assume second place to my dad, front and centre of it all, dressed in drag.

                      My Dad's big night out as Prima Donna of the Casket Office

While Wagner may have composed “The Ride of the Valkyries”, I’ve been considering christening this leg of the tour “The Ride of the Bakeries”. Every town we go to ends up with a visit to the local baker's shop, courtesy of my brother-in-law Roy, who is especially partial to a cream-bun – and I must say there are some class bakers out in these little country towns. I savoured the sausage rolls at Cloncurry – only to be bettered by a little shop in Hughenden.

                                                       Roy - "Cream buns are num-num!"

Now Roy is like a complete entertainment system in his own right. I can watch him for hours and be thoroughly entertained. In Longreach for instance, my sister Mal was drying the dishes and dropped a knife, unbeknownst to her, into one of Roy’s sandals. Roy then emerged from the motor-home and put his sandals on, unbeknownst to him with the knife sticking out the side. He then proceeded to walk around the camp, much like Ben Hur’s chariot at the Colosseum. He’s lucky he didn’t slash a few caravan tyres in his travels. When finally discovered he exclaimed, “I thought my foot felt a bit funny!”

At Longreach we did the tourist things, visiting the QANTAS museum and the Stockman’s Hall of Fame. It is a bit disconcerting driving into town and being confronted with the sight of a Jumbo Jet sitting there on the tarmac. We did a tour of a B-707 – I had never flown in one. It was decked out as an executive jet on the inside which was disappointing in one way but interesting in another.

                                              On board the QANTAS B-707 - luxury class

We also had a ride in an old Cobb & Co coach pulled by four greys and culminating in a gallop home in the Cobb & Co tradition. All good fun. Maurs rode on the top at the back, brother Tom along-side the driver and the rest of us buffeted around inside the coach. Reminded me of the old joke ...”Who’s wobbing this stage coach, dwiver? You or Mister Kelly?”