You can run, so we tried to, after we left Bald Rock.  Instead of returning to the main drag, we took the road less travelled, with Lesley at the wheel.  The Mount Lindesay highway was the only all-weather route between Brisbane and Sydney until the 1950’s (that cannot be true, I hear you cry) and was therefore, the setting for Tank Traps to slow the potential Japanese land advance.  Basic but ingenious, they were (fortunately) never put to the test.  Despite being all-weather, the road still delivered a solid 10km of dirt driving practice.  It then crossed into Queensland, recognized by the deterioration of the road, and ending in the joy of piloting ATGANI through the main street of Stanthorpe on a busy Monday morning.

But you cannot hide!  We had to re-join New England with its steady stream of huge semi-trailers and B-doubles.  Which is what was problematic at our next stop.  Spring Creek CP, 20km north of Warwick was another small well-kept, friendly, family-run park with clean facilities where they gave us a big, level grassy drive-through site – so far, perfect.  The only thing not fixable was the road noise.  The permanent residents said they didn’t notice it, but we did.  With a heavy heart,👎👍

This part of the Darling Downs is lovely though.  We headed directly to Allora, dined at the Railway Hotel (don’t 👎) and failed to find the old GP surgery. 

Moving swiftly on, we did the historic walk around Warwick which felt mostly upbeat with only a few empty shopfronts, and drove some of the Sunflower Route which, disappointingly, appeared to be all sorghum (fodder, we guessed).  Nonetheless, the countryside was in spectacular condition, showing few signs of last week’s flooding.  Every area needs its waterfall and here it was the beautiful Queen Mary Falls in full flow.  Only a 40m drop, but with the delight of getting soaked on the path at the bottom. 

Other interest centred on the tiny town of Nobby (who wouldn’t want to say they were Nobby born?).  Anyway, the girl in the “local shop” brought our coffee out to us under the pepper trees in the park across the road – Merlo coffee (and well made too) plus fresh, white-bread sandwiches without a hint of anything green included.  Even better is Rudd’s Pub👍👍.  It’s very old school and touts itself as being the Dad & Dave pub, Steele Rudd being the nom de plume of Arthur Hoey Davis, who was born and raised in the generously general area.

The Downs had been nice but Easter and Brisbane beckoned, so we coasted down the mountain range, had our Redfoot self-levellers checked at Cleveland and were still at camp in Clontarf by 2pm.  Going nicely!

And so we arrived at Mum’s Stafford Lakes aged residence on Good Friday morning ready for institutional coffee – 2 full weeks on the road already.  But remember: you can run but you cannot hide.  Her floor had a Covid scare a week ago so anyone going to that specific floor is RAT’d.  And Trevor is positive!  All activities immediately cancelled.  No fancy lunches, no Straddie, no 95^th birthday party, none of Frase’s fine wine.  A week’s isolation in a caravan.  Lesley remains immune. Mum was philosophical – I was otherwise.  What a fool!

Now you know what could possibly go wrong – what else could possibly go wrong?