The Granite Belt

Queensland and Northern NSW both list this as a Top Tourist Bit.

We think it is OK but cool - sometimes, too cool.

Let me digress, for just a moment.  Having left the Newell Highway with heads high and every panel intact (unlike the poor souls on the Westport Bridge, Vic, who were 'Toll'ed - meaning some dork in a semi rear-ended a van...)

Now, Stanthorpe and surrounds.  We arrived in a bit of a fog; having climbed every mountain, sometimes seemingly four or five times, we survived the Stanthorpe Narrow Bridge, High Street.  We stopped; we had a small, matrimonially insignificant  discussion; we unloaded the Mac and asked the internet for directions. Sommerville Park soon arrived on the screen and we eventually arrived at the Park. Welcomed by Butcherbirds, both Grey and Pied, we chose the lake-front premium site and (apparently) put up the warning  notices. Nobody parked near us for four days!

Stanthorpe's central lake is gorgeoous

Mottled Frogmouth keeping our light warm.

 The second day we decided to visit the local sights, the Prime Example being the Granite formations and geo-morphological phenomena of the mesolithic era .....
There were rocks all over the place. Lumps, boulders, sheets of the stuff. Enormous monolithic lumps!
One was supposed to be bigger than Uluru and / or Ayer's Rock.
Firewood was in short supply in the caravan park because some of us burn the stuff like it just grows on trees. So we went to see rocks, and to pick up wood if we found it.  One of us knew that there was a $600 fine for finding wood, and then suggested we visit ONLY National Parks.  The Bald Rock Park and the Bonoo Boonoo Park came wafting across the horizon...  and the penalty for collecting wood in a National Park is simply amazing, involving incantations in Sanskrit, the enforced extension of body parts and something to do with boiling oil.  Having wandered through the bush, found the Bald Rock and the Brothers (pictured below), we sort of climbed up, sort of clambered about and then staggered back down the rocks.

The funny looking rocks centre stage are supposed to be Brothers. Work it out.

Then we headed for the Boonoo Boonoo Falls, actually being hungry and wanting a nice lunch spot.

This is the Lower Falls, quite approachable and far more  photogenic than the taller and well hidden Lower Falls

Somehow, some of the wood we saw  appeared here later, being used as intended. Zan was joined during the evening by several other persons in need of port and warmth.

Stanthorpe's O'Hara's Pub has this marvellous Event Room for small celebrations in its centre
To enjoy it, one needs to eat a meal, drink something appealing and donate to their Pokies Fund.

Today we moved out of Sommerville at last and descended, carefully, down through Cunningham's Gap, with many a stop for the Road Works. This is a curious Queenslandish ceremony, where fluorescent Orange-Men hold up sacred ancient symbols that defy technology, halting all machinery in its tracks. All activity ceases and travellers join together, frozen in reverent, silent peace, worshipping the antipathy of hectic, chaotic travel for a few minutes. Quite a few minues, in some cases. Then they are allowed to begin anew, chastened by their delay; they proceed between the chasm and the Post, their haste moderated, refined; finally, the Open Road is declared and they renew their vigorous pursuit of photographic evidence of their sins.

Once in Brisbane, at Eight Mile Plain, we left the frantic stream of merge-and-meld,  ebb and flow, rush and tarry, and settled gratefully into the Brisbane Caravan Park. Expensive, designer, laid out just so as Canberra is, in circle and round; with cabins and caravan site mixed carefully to avoid rising tensions between the travelling sects.

We had a great time visiting the grandchildren, pressing on one some cards and presents; we visited the Other Grandparents to renew family ties. Tonight, despite some wailing sirens in the middle distance, we are at peace wih the world in general. The Minister for War and Finance has made visitations and left burnt sacrifices in the Vault. E-mails have been read and deleted. Tomorrow, we prepare for Artistic Enlightenment. A Bus ride!