Quorn, Trains and Kangaroos

The Talcum Powder Conundrum has raised its head yet again. On our previous meanderings I mused whether the large signs in ablution blocks banning he use of talcum powder were from fear of inhalation or slipping on the stuff.  Well the last couple of shower blocks haven’t clarified the situation, even though explanations are now being provided rather than the usual plain “Verboten”. As I suspected, different caravan park owners warn for one or the other; I’m waiting for the sign that warns about inhaling the talcum and then collapsing and slipping onto the tiles to await certain death.

Home among the Gum Trees - Quorn

I find it fascinating that just about every cubicle around the country has a sign that you must read. All different, and all I suspect to do with some past “incident”. We’re in the “Three minute shower” zone at the moment. I think it’s a trust system but I‘m unwilling to shower more than 3 minutes lest the Shower Police break down the cubicle door and frog-march me out into the middle of the camping area, leaving one dripping and naked as a sorry lesson to the other campers.

Outside the Railway Station

The Barwell Bull - "All Aboard"

We were lucky enough to be in Quorn on a day they run the Pichi Richi Railway, which is a vestige of the old railway system now long gone. Sometimes they run steam engines but it’s fire season and it’s hot so we had to settle for a diesel job known as the Barwell Bull (after a politician naturally). The volunteers who run the show dress in authentic costume and assume roles of Conductor, Guard and Driver, and generally take things pretty seriously (as they must do to make everything work I guess). There’s whistles being blown and tickets being clipped and coloured flags to wave as well. We had a great time travelling the 20 or so kilometres to Woolshed Flat and then back again, although it might have been a little more comfortable if we had the train with round wheels rather than the elliptical ones we seemed to have fitted. Whether it was the wheels or the track, the effect was such that ladies with ill-fitting bras were having a lot of trouble remaining intact and gentlemen needed a minute or so to “compose” themselves before alighting (took me back to being a 13-year old on the rickety buses that we caught to school).

"Mo'im Back!" - shunting manoeuvre underway

Enjoying the view from the Barwell Bull

Fossils in the cutting! (we went back the next day for a closer look)

End of the line - Woolshed Flat

 

The change in the weather that I mentioned would have blown us off the beach at Baird Bay came through Quorn and dropped the temperatures from 35C to 22C the next day. That made it a good day to visit Warren Gorge about 20 km out of town. There was just no one around at all and we followed a trail that took us past big old River Gums, through Cypress Pines and into Yakka country (native grass trees, or as some old recidivists call them, blackboys). We were looking for a colony of rock wallabies but they proved elusive; however there were quite a few big red kangaroos hopping around us, plus a few birds although none to get excited about. There are lots of great walks in the Quorn area. We were told about Dutchman’s Stern Conservation Park close by and then told it was closed for ‘goat eradication’, which explains why we saw heaps of goats at Warren Gorge (asylum seekers of a sort I suppose). I was interested to see whether there was a rock formation there resembling the rear of a Dutch sailing ship or less kindly, just the back end of a Dutchman! But now I may never know.

River Gums at Warren Gorge and a roo in the right hand corner of frame

Back in town that afternoon, we went to the local Rural Traders store and asked the lady there if there was someone in town who could look at our gas leak problem. She pointed and said “The guy in line behind you!” There was nowhere for the local plumber to hide. Actually he was very obliging and came around to the camper. It took a while but he finally identified the source of the leak – the regulator – of which he didn’t have a replacement part, but at least now we knew. With the help of Uncle Google we located a guy in the next town to which we were heading – Berri – and placed him in our cross-hairs. We slept well that night (actually we sleep well every night – out here on the Returd Highway).

The Mother-in-Law house (farmer built it for his MiL a good mile from the farmhouse) - just sayin'