I stuttered back from my hillside perch to the waterfront to find that the Carnies had come to town. Yes, a Saturday morning market.
Among those selling their wares was Carl, an English chap who’d been here for years. His wife is a journalist, producing an independent local rag in competition with the
Airlie Beach is a definite candidate for a return visit – great beach, a smalltown feel, a thriving market, and a parkrun.
Fuelled with a coffee and a full tank, I set off early for Rockhampton.
With an online afternoon appointment looming, I found myself in a barren wilderness called Clairview. No civilization to be seen here. Except dire signs warning against overnight parking, and a huge dusty campground like something out of Mad Max. No room at the inn there either.
The next stop was a travellers’ rest near St. Laurence, where I parked up and tried in vain to sort an internet connection good enough for Zoom.
After that failed, I consoled myself with a bucketful of chocolate, and decided to push on for Rockhampton.
But late afternoon was upon me, and I went down a sideroad to the township of Marlborough, population 149, altitude 90 metres, apparently.
I meandered around the township, and eventually hit upon a small and likely-looking gathering of campervans in a dusty compound. At $5 for the night, including toilets , showers, and a pub , it was an easy sell.
After again failing to get an internet connection for my laptop, and being laughed at in the pub when I asked about Wifi, I ate a well-rounded evening meal of sardines, tomatoes, and peanut butter, and turned in for the night.