Maryborough Burnett Heads and Hervey bay June 16th June
Maryborough is the traditional home of the Gubbi Gubbi and Wakka Wakka tribes. In 1840 it became one of the main ports for colonialists entering Queensland from across the world as well as producing coal for the growing state. It also lays claim to be the only Australian city to have had a pneumonic plague . It was caused by infected sacks from a Hong Kong liner used as bedding for children . Not only did this poor family have to endure the loss of five of their children but mobs burned their house to the ground in a mass panic.
Our visit to Maryborough was far less traumatic. Based at the showground we wandered around the city taking in the late 18th century architecture . Kate was blown away by the fact that the author of Mary Poppins was born here. Pamela Lyndon Travers, born Helen Lyndon Goff spent her early years in Maryborough then Syndey and ventured wide into the world . Died at the age of 96 in an unmarked grave in London . She studied Navajo indian’s culture between the wars and travelled to Japan to study Zen mysticism in the 60s !
Then onto Burnett heads which is a little town north of Bundaberg. We got a great little spot right next to the caravan park sewage treatment plant ! Nice walks down by the sea front and round to the marina . Handy light house hotel for hydration too.
We know Hervey Bay pretty well having gone whale watching a few years back . We stayed at the marina end and walked the 6 K down past the 800metre long Urangan pier where i saw locals catch school mackerel around 80cm long . Keeva and I had a fish prospecting walk round the marina at dusk .
We had Guinness and G&Ts in the Torquay Hotel as a treat. The hotel is big busy ocean fronted boozer/hotel. I went to the loo picking up drinks from bar on the way back . As I passed one table a man stopped me and said that he would vote for me in the magicians competition. Taking him for the local madman i carried on to our table out by the roadside. As i took my seat i saw a 25 foot long line of orange unravelled dog poo bags that had unrolled through a hole in my shorts pocket and lay on the floor tracing its way back to the bar . As I rolled them in my new friend gave me a knowing nod !
