Heavenly Beverley : Three Surprising Days in Bundaberg

Monday morning was rushed. We slept in until after eight o'clock and had to Be Gone from our charming Home Base Coolum by ten o'clock. A flurry of packing and cleaning ensued. At precisely six minutes to ten, we locked the door and farewelled the first stop of our Queensland Odyssey.

We didn't get very far. Breakfast had been sadly abandoned due to time pressures. Freddy Fuddpukka's fueled us for the journey. We turned Lily in the direction of Childers, fifty kilometres south of Bundaberg. and set out on the Bruce Highway, the national highway all the way to Cairns.

Stopping for lunch in Maryborough, we grabbed a sandwich in a shopping centre food court. Quite acceptable. What was rather extraordinary was the gulf between my memories of Queensland as a child and the reality of 2017. Towns had grown, the traffic was heavier and the highway busier. Yet some of my memories were, thankfully, correct and relevant. The cane fields, cane trains and cane field fires were all present, affirming long held visions of earlier times.

Brother Simon's house in Sharon, outside of Bundaberg, should have been easy to find. Unfortunately, the words "don't go through Bundaberg" had been seared into my brain, so I directed Michael to take the Gin Gin road. Wrong. Luckily, Google Maps saved us and send us on an alternate route back towards Sharon, including over a spectacular low causeway across the Burnett River.

We drove down Simon's driveway to his house by the Burnett River, about fifteen kilometres outside Bundaberg.The view was jaw dropping, the house quietly sitting in the surrounding bush and the resident French backpackers very welcoming. We had arrived.

Dinner was low key and pleasant with Simon. A busy GP, he was usually out early and home late. His escape, a low maintenance house with wide verandahs, high above the river and the flood line, was peace personified. We were not late to bed either.

The following morning was all about sleep. We rose refreshed. Mike had contacted his oldest daughter Sarah, who worked in town. We met her for lunch. Unbelievable experience. As was meeting her daughter Jess - my great niece. A wonderful hour.

We arranged a family dinner at Sarah's house that evening. The afternoon was filled with a visit to the Bundaberg Rum distillery. The entry included the jaunt around the museum and two delicious rum samples at the end.

A brief sojourn back at Simon's house for an hour. I hung out our freshly washed clothes. We drove out to Burnett Heads for dinner. Sarah and her partner Geoff lived in a comfortable and attractive house within a beautiful tropical garden. Jess entertained us with Audrey, her bearded dragon, her musical and exceptional artistic talent. The BBQ was tasty and the company fantastic. We made arrangements to meet again in February. New family looks like we will be making visits east as often as we can.

Second morning - awake earlier. More washing. Off to the Botanic Gardens and the Hinkler Aviation Museum and his English house, relocated to Bundaberg. Outstanding. Bert Hinkler was a fascinating man - aviator, inventor, soldier, lover and husband. Best known for his record breaking flight between England and Australia, he was far more than that one feat. Killed at the age of forty in a flying accident, his legend lives on in Bundaberg.

That night was a family get-together around the fire with steak, garlic bread, veggies and salad. Yum. Simon's hospitality was unforgettable. We sat, sharing stories of our lives, truly appreciating each other's trials and triumphs.

We will be returning in our late summer. This trip was taught me that family is fragile and precious and needs to be nurtured and defended.

Today we left Bundaberg after dropping Mike at the airport for his return to the Deep North. We catch up with him again in Cooktown on 17 August. In the meantime, we have eleven days on our own. We are creating a brand spanking new adventure. Whoopee.

Postscript -

I was hugely entertained by the main drag in Bundaberg. Bourbong Street became, in no particular order, Bourbon Street, Bong Bong Street, Bing Bong Street, Bing Bang Bong Street and in due course, Who Flung Dung Street. Naturally.