Camping in the rain is boring. We go east, following it. The patchy weather system, which seems intent on making this the wettest winter Queensland has seen in a generation, intermittently sprinkles us at inopportune times. We arrive in Longreach and go straight to the Stockman’s Hall of Fame, where we are inside and dry.
The Hall of Fame is really good; an insight – even for cynical sixty-year olds – into what makes up outback life.
We have now driven quite a bit of this land.
And while we will never be stockmen, I think there’s quiet admiration for their efforts to continue to carve out a life here.
There’s nobody remotely interested in aeroplanes, and as I have already been there, we give it a miss. Anyway, Longreach seems to have nicked the claim to the QANTAS Founders Museum from Winton where it actually started.
I poke my nose through the fence at the aircraft displays, see one that my mother, Joy, flew on as an air hostess in the 1950’s, when it was still glamourous, and rush back to the vehicles to dodge the ever-threatening rain.
We set up camp in a filling-up caravan park on the edge of town. We manage that in the dry, only for it all to turn into a quagmire soon after; the result of rain on a construction site.
We wake up to fog and more damp.
A good campsite to leave.
Barcaldine is famous for the creation, in 1892, of what became the Australian Labor Party. That connection seems over now as it voted for (the conservative) National Party in the 2025 election.
We wander down the Heritage Trail, wondering what heritage was really left, since every building seemed to have been burned down several times.
We poke noses in to the Australian Workers Heritage Centre (not burned down yet). Aside from his new hat, James, unwilling to be associated with anything Australian, work, or heritage, decides it’s not for him. Guy makes a bee-line for the bakery, which is in full operation and produces both vanilla slices and pies. Much more satisfying! I’m waylaid by an enthusiast from the Land Rover Club of Brisbane, who wants to take photos of the vehicles. Fame at last!
We’ve got a whiff of gem fever. I’ve convinced the expedition that we need to go fossicking to build wealth for the future and help defray our costs. At Jericho, a staging point to the Queensland towns of Rubyvale, Sapphire and Emerald where it all happens, we camp in the damp – sort of by a billabong – and plan to spend our forthcoming fortunes.
The Jordan River
Fossicking, for the uninitiated, is the practice of buying a bucket of dirt, then scrabbling around in it for gems that will make your fortune. There need to be rules; like not seizing someone else’s dirt or not pushing them out of the way so you can grab that million-dollar stone. We’ll see if we can stick to them tomorrow.
Not much happens at Jericho. I amble round the town. Large, fenced yards (or gardens) with dogs. Old houses – ‘a perfect canvas’ for someone’s renovation dreams, according to Barcaldine real estate.
There’s a mechanic working on a truck. Many of his less successful fixes (or his spare parts department) seem to be spread in various states of decay across the neighbouring paddocks, along with a few bemused sheep.
The most interesting place is the cemetery. Amid rain showers there are glimpses of family histories told by their epitaphs – both tragedies and lives, lived long.
Back at camp, and despite the damp, we get a fire going. After dark and Guy’s usual delicious concoction; this time corned beef hash and mash, I introduce the idea of the jaffle iron.
Reaction is a mixture of bemusement and derision, especially when I suggest we fill it with a Mars Bar.
Undeterred and using available supplies, I produce a superlatively healthy fried bread chocolate sandwich, only spoiled when the top comes off the bottom. More amusement. But they don’t know what they’re missing!
In the morning there’s an autumnal feel to the air. We motor out of Jericho towards our fortune. Not far down the road there’s a sign. ‘No Class 2 Road Trains beyond this point’. Passing traffic doesn’t wave. We’re out of the outback.
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