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Coffee break at New Italy:  Settled in at Aspley camping site:  |
Darlington Beach to Aspley (Brisbane)
We woke early to the melody of unfamiliar birdsong. Rosy dawn light washed the tall gum tree above in soft colour and its foliage now glistened, swaying gently in the morning breeze. Bruce made me what was to become a regular routine of a pot of tea although at this point we did not have a pot. I savoured it while Bruce showered and, when he returned, I hurried to enjoy the solitary pleasures of the bright, clean en suite myself. Bruce had meanwhile set up breakfast on our small folding table and on my return, I draped my damp towel over my chair, another practice which was to become routine, and sat with him to enjoy the first of many delightful al fresco meals. I decided dining outdoors seems to make even plain food taste better.
While Bruce began the next essential routine of topping up the van with fresh water, emptying grey water, unplugging the power lead, rolling it up and stowing it and checking that all related outlets were shut, I cleaned up and tidied the van inside. Next, time to clean the en suite and check that we’d left nothing behind, et voila! we were ready to leave. But I was already noticing the effects of frequent climbing the very high step into the van time after time. Leg joints issued warning squeaks. I began to take extra care when ascending and descending as my legs had a lot of work in front of them to do.
One more time I stepped down carefully, on this occasion to return the en suite key to the office. I commented on the lovely camp environment and was rewarded with a small pack of jelly beans. We set off on the next leg of the journey in high spirits.
Driving through North Coast New South Wales and into South East Queensland, we could not but be impressed with the brilliant gold of sunshine intensifying the lush greenness of vast acres of sugar cane growing on either side of the Highway. Bruce was now very cheerful, clearly at home in this sub-tropical environment. We were still getting over the disappointment of not being able to listen to any of our music because of the noisy van. Opera would have been just the way to celebrate the glory of the day.
By late morning, we were ready for refreshment. A large, colourful sign announcing ‘New Italy’ loomed up conveniently, inviting us to pull in and look around a number of low, farm-like buildings around a spacious, grassed courtyard. One of these buildings was a café. While Bruce ordered coffees, I took a stroll around, checking for any interesting souvenir shops. Then, relaxing in the shade of the café’s wide awning, we noticed the courtyard had the facility to be at least partially covered to provide shelter and guessed it was the local venue for all kinds of celebrations. Later, we investigated a small shop full of blown glass artefacts before moving back to the courtyard where Bruce took several photos while I read the history of the place, painted on walls of another building. Apparently this area was settled by Italian immigrants very early on in the life of the colony. Many of the migrants had skills developed at home in Italy and had used them to great advantage in their new home. Bruce took a photo of a statue memorial in the front of the courtyard before we hopped back into the van, I took the wheel this time, and drove on.
Eventually we sought and found a rest area for a comfort stop. While I hurried across a tarmac clearly made for a whole army of vehicles, Bruce took particular pleasure in making coffee for us in his specially purchased coffee pot. We enjoyed a snack, feeling we would be in Brisbane soon enough for a main meal. That turned out to be a mistake as traffic though the Gold Coast and on into Brisbane on the Gold Coast Highway was dense and slow. The GPS instructions confused Bruce who thought we should be taking a different route from its persistent female-voiced instructions. He was becoming quietly terse as we took longer and longer to reach our destination and the hot, late afternoon sun was taking its toll on both of us.
At 5.00p.m., hot, tired and very hungry, we pulled into the Brisbane Caravan Park in Zillmere, a Brisbane suburb. Checking in took time and I could not see any cafés nearby. We had not yet stocked up with all necessary food supplies so we would have to search for somewhere to eat very soon or risk a major domestic spat. I enquired about nearby cafés. The girl said cheerfully, ‘There’s one nearby, but it closes at 5.00 p.m. There aren’t any others.’
Far from pleased with this information, once we had ‘plugged in’ the van we set off to find a meal. It was pleasant enough walking in the cooler temperature of dusk and our tempers cooled with it. To our great surprise and relief, we soon found any number of eating houses less than a km away. We muttered some uncomplimentary remarks about incorrect information from unhelpful staff and as quickly as possible, entered the ‘Lone Star Café’ and ordered a steak. Ruefully, I became rapidly aware of the din of many customers’ voices [was there to be no escape from noise?] so we wasted little time in eating and returning to the peace of outdoors where light traffic was not enough to spoil its tranquillity.
Back at the van we made plans for the next day. Bruce called family members and made arrangements to meet them over the next two days. Then, thinking of going to bed, he mentioned how cold he had been the previous night as his blanket was not enough to keep him comfortably warm. There was nothing for it but to make up the dining space into a double bed and share my doona with him. I need not have worried about disturbing him. He slept very soundly.