Tuesday we packed up camp at Running Creek Parkland and headed west towards Tara in the Darling Downs. I was keen to see how my van would sit behind the Jeep given that I had inverted the tow ball tongue in readiness to fit the bracket for the Stone Stomper which was due to arrive via courier at the Tara hardware store on Wednesday. The van sat perfectly level. Sweet!
Karen and I had decided a week earlier to go to the Tara Festival of Culture and Camel Races (something of an oxymoron me thinks) which was being held from July 31st to August 4th. A somewhat iconic outback event, it was expected to attract well over 2000 caravans and motorhomes with onsite camping at $30 for five nights. It was just under 300 km to Tara but as the gates were due to open Wednesday at 8am we decided to overnight somewhere closer and leave early the following morning. We also wanted power and water as neither were available at the Tara showground and I was close to empty and needed to charge stuff up. Kaimkillenbun (aka 'The Bun') was enroute and left us with a short run into Dalby then an hour or so to Tara. We booked into Glasby's Caravan Park which turned out to be very basic, arriving early afternoon. We left the vans hitched and plugged into power. On discovering the local water was from a bore I rang the tourist information centre at Dalby and was informed where we could fill up with town water in the morning. That would work.
Around 5 Karen, Ellie, James and I wandered two doors up to The Bun Pub. We sat outside with the locals and their dogs hearing more four letter swear words shoved into each sentence than I dreamed possible. It was interesting enough though. By 7 we had finished our 'ok' steak meals and a couple of glasses of the only red they had (which left a bit to be desired) and tucked in for an early night.
For whatever reasons we both had a shitful night's sleep and were up and about very early. That turned out to work in our favour because at Dalby we found two taps close together in the park and were able to top up our water supply to its maximum 200 litres for each van. The queue of vans and motorhomes to do the same came as we were finishing. Cool. From there we got directions from a fellow vanner to the town dump point so we would go into Tara with empty dunnies. We did have to queue for that which was possibly good training for the queue we hit at Tara....that was several kilometers long and took well over an hour, but surprisingly a lot less than I thought it could have. We opted for the 'free range ' paddock rather than our allocated sardine tin bays and set our vans up facing each other with a space between where we could leave the fur babies tethered, in touch and on matting to avoid the ever-present nasty burrs. They would have get used to a bit of time without us as they were not allowed in the entertainment precinct.
Late Wednesday arvo I received a message from the owner at Running Creek Parkland that my Stone Stomper was sitting at the post office at Woodford awaiting collection. Bugger! I rang TNT and as far as they were concerned it had been delivered. Bullshit - not even to the address on the label! I will admit the delivery process had become somewhat complicated as it was originally destined for Running Creek but because of shipment delays (which I had followed with my tracking number) I had rung TNT and had it re-routed to Tara. Clearly that did not happen. The sub contractor courier decided Running Creek Parkland was not in his area so dropped it at the closest post office. I rang the post office but as the as the package was over 1.5 meters in length they could not foward it. Fuck me! Next morning I left Tara at 7.30 am and drove for 7 hours on a 600 km round trip back to Woodford to collect it. I unpacked it the next day and with the assistance of some young blokes setting up camp nearby was able to attach brackets to the caravan and tow ball in readiness to hook it up before I take the van back on the road. No more stone damage to the front of the van....I hope.
All day Wednesday, Thursday and Friday campers arrived and the massive area swelled into a temporary city. There were fires in pits of all shapes and sizes with groups of people of all ages sitting around chatting, laughing and drinking. It was an amazing scene and the atmosphere was fabulous. Friday evening the festivities really kicked in. We wandered over to the enclosed festival area just after dark, bought some drink tickets which we traded at the bar for grog, then checked out the eating options. There was so much to choose from. We settled for sharing a serve of beef stew on mash and some japanese ball things. At 7pm there was a fabulous fireworks display and at one of the two stage areas live music had the crowd pumping.
The best day at Tara by a mile was Saturday. It felt so exciting and festive with crowds of people everywhere and multiple things happening in all directions from early morning through until the bar closed and the band stopped rocking at midnight. The camel racing commenced at nine with a race every hour till five. Despite Jedda or Dolly failing to bring home the bacon for us we had laugh at their ungainly efforts reach the post. It was so funny to watch as were the yabbie auctions and racing that followed each camel race. There was non stop music or dance performances concurrently happening on two separate stages, a huge market, sheep shearing, chainsaw wood carving and whip cracking demonstrations and of course the food alley and bar was in full swing. It was an absolute hoot and we had a ball.
Sunday was much the same but with less people, fewer performances and a much lower key sense of hype. By lunch time a lot of campers had packed up and left. We will do the same tomorrow and wend our way towards Carnarvon Gorge.
Karen and I had decided a week earlier to go to the Tara Festival of Culture and Camel Races (something of an oxymoron me thinks) which was being held from July 31st to August 4th. A somewhat iconic outback event, it was expected to attract well over 2000 caravans and motorhomes with onsite camping at $30 for five nights. It was just under 300 km to Tara but as the gates were due to open Wednesday at 8am we decided to overnight somewhere closer and leave early the following morning. We also wanted power and water as neither were available at the Tara showground and I was close to empty and needed to charge stuff up. Kaimkillenbun (aka 'The Bun') was enroute and left us with a short run into Dalby then an hour or so to Tara. We booked into Glasby's Caravan Park which turned out to be very basic, arriving early afternoon. We left the vans hitched and plugged into power. On discovering the local water was from a bore I rang the tourist information centre at Dalby and was informed where we could fill up with town water in the morning. That would work.
Around 5 Karen, Ellie, James and I wandered two doors up to The Bun Pub. We sat outside with the locals and their dogs hearing more four letter swear words shoved into each sentence than I dreamed possible. It was interesting enough though. By 7 we had finished our 'ok' steak meals and a couple of glasses of the only red they had (which left a bit to be desired) and tucked in for an early night.
For whatever reasons we both had a shitful night's sleep and were up and about very early. That turned out to work in our favour because at Dalby we found two taps close together in the park and were able to top up our water supply to its maximum 200 litres for each van. The queue of vans and motorhomes to do the same came as we were finishing. Cool. From there we got directions from a fellow vanner to the town dump point so we would go into Tara with empty dunnies. We did have to queue for that which was possibly good training for the queue we hit at Tara....that was several kilometers long and took well over an hour, but surprisingly a lot less than I thought it could have. We opted for the 'free range ' paddock rather than our allocated sardine tin bays and set our vans up facing each other with a space between where we could leave the fur babies tethered, in touch and on matting to avoid the ever-present nasty burrs. They would have get used to a bit of time without us as they were not allowed in the entertainment precinct.
Late Wednesday arvo I received a message from the owner at Running Creek Parkland that my Stone Stomper was sitting at the post office at Woodford awaiting collection. Bugger! I rang TNT and as far as they were concerned it had been delivered. Bullshit - not even to the address on the label! I will admit the delivery process had become somewhat complicated as it was originally destined for Running Creek but because of shipment delays (which I had followed with my tracking number) I had rung TNT and had it re-routed to Tara. Clearly that did not happen. The sub contractor courier decided Running Creek Parkland was not in his area so dropped it at the closest post office. I rang the post office but as the as the package was over 1.5 meters in length they could not foward it. Fuck me! Next morning I left Tara at 7.30 am and drove for 7 hours on a 600 km round trip back to Woodford to collect it. I unpacked it the next day and with the assistance of some young blokes setting up camp nearby was able to attach brackets to the caravan and tow ball in readiness to hook it up before I take the van back on the road. No more stone damage to the front of the van....I hope.
All day Wednesday, Thursday and Friday campers arrived and the massive area swelled into a temporary city. There were fires in pits of all shapes and sizes with groups of people of all ages sitting around chatting, laughing and drinking. It was an amazing scene and the atmosphere was fabulous. Friday evening the festivities really kicked in. We wandered over to the enclosed festival area just after dark, bought some drink tickets which we traded at the bar for grog, then checked out the eating options. There was so much to choose from. We settled for sharing a serve of beef stew on mash and some japanese ball things. At 7pm there was a fabulous fireworks display and at one of the two stage areas live music had the crowd pumping.
The best day at Tara by a mile was Saturday. It felt so exciting and festive with crowds of people everywhere and multiple things happening in all directions from early morning through until the bar closed and the band stopped rocking at midnight. The camel racing commenced at nine with a race every hour till five. Despite Jedda or Dolly failing to bring home the bacon for us we had laugh at their ungainly efforts reach the post. It was so funny to watch as were the yabbie auctions and racing that followed each camel race. There was non stop music or dance performances concurrently happening on two separate stages, a huge market, sheep shearing, chainsaw wood carving and whip cracking demonstrations and of course the food alley and bar was in full swing. It was an absolute hoot and we had a ball.
Sunday was much the same but with less people, fewer performances and a much lower key sense of hype. By lunch time a lot of campers had packed up and left. We will do the same tomorrow and wend our way towards Carnarvon Gorge.
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