Cold and Cooper’s

It would seem the campaign to remove all possessives from Australian place names has failed, at least in the case of Cooper’s Creek, from where I now write. Last time we were here (in 1999, when Izzy was nearly 1) it was very definitely Cooper Creek, but now Cooper’s is boldly emblazoned everywhere.

This morning found us very cold in Quilpie. 1 degC is cold, and when the sun doesn’t rise until after 7:10, it takes a long time to warm up. Fortunately the fire was still well alive from the previous evening’s entertainment so toast was on the menu. After spending a fortune in Dalby for the luxury of Dinner and a bed, $28 for fantastic endless showers, a camp kitchen with a microwave and huge communal fire and country guitarist for cook and entertainment, things were certainly heading in the right direction. Tonight, the surroundings are fantastic, the price is right and the entertainment is the song of birds. Unfortunately this is such a popular site (they have now installed toilets) that the local supply of firewood is all gone and there are very unfriendly signs about taking trees, so the gas has come out for the first time.

Cooper(‘s) Creek, about 12km from Windorah, is a bit of a favourite place of ours. Always water (at least when we have been here) and lots of birds, but this time no pelicans. Enough water this time for some hardy souls to have dragged some boats here. The water was higher recently, and the receding water has left hundreds of dead fish, mostly the size of large sardines at the waters edge. Still teeming with fish in the water though, as you can see if you watch. The water is murky, which is typical, and that combined with the air temperature has even convinced Elliot to stop asking for a swim. He has however been down on the bank with his brother and sister though for a couple of hours.

Quilpie has come on so much since the ghost town we visited 11 years ago. The whole grey nomad concept has breathed new life into this old railhead, that itself stole the march on Aramac when the rail went here instead of there. Opal is the magnet now, and a guilt trip laid on her mother scored Izzy a pendant for her birthday. There is now street art and more than a little civic pride.

Did we find our first aboriginal rock art at Baldy Top, outside Quilpie? You be the judge. Baldy Top is the only high point around Quilpie, so is a bit of a must see.

Stats for the day. About 260km. Diesel in Quilpie was $1.46. They have finally dispensed with the obligatory 0.9c. Road was, as expected, flat. Lunch was underneath some swallow’s nests about half-way, and we never did find out what it was called, although we had plenty of company, including a (insert appropriate collective noun here) of drop-bears.

The sun has set dinner is ready  and chaos has arrived.