Two hundred and thirty years ago, Scotland’s favourite son, Robbie Burns, penned the line “the best laid schemes o’ mice and men gang aft agley”, which, roughly translated into Sassenach, is a proverbial expression signifying the futility of making plans that often go astray. As far as anyone can tell, Burns was not much into camping but his famous adage is very apposite to that activity. Take, for example, our recent expedition through Capricornia, the region around and west of Rockhampton.
The plan was simple enough: spend a couple of weeks touring with the Kimberley Karavan (‘Tikay’), camping in the Byfield State Forest north of Yeppoon, heading west to the Blackdown Tableland National Park near Blackwater, then looping back via Biloela and the Kroombit Tops NP to home at Hervey Bay. The vehicles were prepped and loaded to the gunwales, the weather gods were smiling and everything augured well for an exciting trip. With pre-paid camping permits in hand, we were really looking forward to getting back to the bush again on some unfamiliar trails.
An early start had us well along the Bruce Highway for morning smoko at a shady little rest area at Granite Creek, just south of Gladstone. We made Yeppoon by lunchtime and, in lieu of the usual sandwiches, we had a feed of fish and chips at the Keppel Bay Sailing Club (Yeppoon). A quick top up at the local servo and a good sealed road northward soon brought us to the turn off into Byfield State Forest and the Upper Stony Campground that would be our base for the next five days. So far so good.
At the turn off was a rather large, official-looking sign in red lettering warning tourists that the Day Use Area at Upper Stony was closed due to the construction of new facilities. No problem, we were staying at the campground and had a QPWS permit to prove it. Pushing on down a rough, unsealed track that is shared by logging trucks operating in the local pine plantations, we were happy to stick to the 40kph speed limit that applied here, and for good reason.
During 20 years of happy motoring in the ‘Cruiser we have covered many an unsealed road and copped our share of flying stones from passing traffic with little more than a ricochet and a minor mark that usually buffed up without much trouble. But on this occasion an idiot in an oncoming ute intent on getting somewhere in a hurry, regardless of the hazardous conditions, pelted a stone into the windscreen with an almighty report that left both Elizabeth and me shaken and momentarily deaf. Unfortunately, it also caused an impact star in the windscreen the size of a 50 cent piece that grew larger with each passing kilometre. The irony was that, had the projectile struck half an inch higher, it would have hit the wiper arm and been deflected with no harm whatsoever. But this bad boy was clearly going to involve a total replacement of the glass, and sooner rather than later. At least it wasn’t immediately terminal and we figured we could still get around until our next scheduled pit stop in Rocky.
We passed the next few kilometres in a daze until we arrived at the campground, where another unpleasant surprise awaited us. We found our site (#7) easily enough, in a spacious, tree-lined clearing, bordered by a landscaped shrubbery along one side, a pleasant view through the forest to a glittering stretch of Upper Stony Creek along the back and a great swathe of high-vis safety netting along the other boundary. Immediately beyond his polyester palisade lay the day use area now heavily “under construction”. Vehicles and machinery moved about in a turmoil of noise and dusty activity; by the creek a generator clattered incessantly and above the roar of large diesel motors could be heard the piercing “beep, beep, beep” of reversing horns as plant moved back and forth around the paddock.
Somewhat aghast, but determined to make the best of a bad situation – it was a very scenic location after all – we began to set up Tikay and the annex that would be our little home away from home. The Kimberley Karavan is a very handy device – compact, sturdy and fitted with all the comforts one could ask for in the bush. But if it has one Achilles heel it is its total reliance on power from a bank of ten marine-grade batteries to operate everything, the water pumps, the lights and, first and foremost, the winch that raises the carapace in order to access the living space. In this regard another major problem was revealed, for, as I pressed the magic button to start the winch, there was a strained whir from that appliance and only very sluggish upward movement of the roof until it stopped well short of its full height. Mystified (we had 100% charge before we left home), I pressed the switch again to grind out a few more reluctant inches and had to repeat the exercise several times until, with considerable relief, we had the roof in place.
It was quite hot and the process of setting up camp, and the nervous tension attending the winch operation, got me in a lather of sweat that could only be relieved by a cold beer and a dip in the creek. Sensing my need, Elizabeth was at my side with a welcome stubbie and no sooner was it in my hand than the top was off and the amber liquid was flowing down my parched throat. But wait – this was not the ice-cold beverage I had expected. It was drinkable to be sure, but only just, for the elixir of life was almost room temperature, which hereabouts was near 26 degrees! When I mentioned this sad fact, Elizabeth said “Mmmm, I don’t think the van fridge is working.” Mentally assigning this new challenge to the too hard basket for the time being, I cast my gaze longingly toward the creek.
At that moment, I was approached by the site manager, a very nice chap named Ted, who welcomed us to the camp and apologised for all the mechanised commotion around it. He asked “This your first time here?” “Yes, we’ve come all the way from Hervey Bay today and we’re really looking forward to a swim in that creek yonder.” Following my gaze, he pursed his lips and said “Ooh, I wouldn’t if I were you. The creek hasn’t run for some weeks now and we’ve got blue-green algae blooms. We were going to close this waterhole tomorrow.” “Thanks for the warning”, I said, while thinking “bugger that, nobody in the history of civilization has ever died from a little dunking in blue-green algae.” Not that I would drink it, mind you.
There was only one thing for it – we would have to take our tepid tonics down to the water’s edge and carry out an inspection for ourselves. As if to encourage us in that direction, a new swarm of march flies assailed us despite the lacquering of bug spray we had applied liberally within minutes of our arrival. A short walk down a landscaped pathway brought us to a grassy swathe beneath the shady boughs of several very old paperbarks. The water looked a little brownish, as one would normally expect from tannin dye in a bushland watercourse, but there was not the tell-tale opalescent hue that one expects to see in a toxic algal brew. Reassuringly, turtles nosed up to the surface near the bank at our feet and the wind parted the overhead branches to permit a shaft of brilliant sunshine to illuminate the creek’s sandy bottom.
I resolved to take the plunge and as I turned to fetch my towel from Tikay my eye caught the “For your safety” sign shrouded by some bushes, discrete but emphatic in its QPWS text and colouring. It listed a number of perils for swimmers, like submerged logs and rocks (check), slow-moving or stagnant water that can induce ear infections and other health complaints (check), and stings from “bullrouts”. A bullrout, for readers who do not know (and I did not), is a kind of freshwater stonefish with a spectacularly painful sting. To reinforce the warning, the sign bore an extremely life-like illustration of a nasty looking fish with a daunting array of dorsal spines, and a recommendation to seek immediate medical assistance – out here? With a sigh of resignation, I wiped the sweat from my brow, swatted my fifty-second march fly since arrival and turned toward camp to retrieve another tepid beer from the fridge that didn’t work.
Next morning, the tradies were back on the job, working harder and noisier than ever. The word was out, apparently, that the boss cocky (aka principal conservation officer) was on site to check on progress and to ensure that the work would be completed within the few remaining weeks allotted for its achievement. A brief chat with said PCO revealed that the Qld Department of National Parks (etc) was spending a couple of million dollars not only to upgrade the facilities here but to repair considerable damage caused by vandals, who, among other things, had demolished some picnic tables, performed doughnuts in the landscaped gardens and blew up several electric barbecues. He wore a wry look and shook his head slowly as he said this, as if in wonderment at the mentality of people who go a long way out of their way to cause such wanton damage in what was undeniably a very beautiful place, or anywhere for that matter.
While the lads were going ‘hammer and tong’ about their admirable work, we stretched our legs in the local forest on a track that shadowed Stony Creek through towering eucalypts and exotic Caribbean pines. The day was really hot and we were glad to be walking in the shade of these arboreal giants, our tramping muted by the blanket of pine needles underfoot. The trail included part of the Venusta Circuit, so called for the pockets of grevillea that are endemic to the Byfield region and bear an impressive scarlet flower at this time of year. Some 2km upstream we forded the creek at the Freemans Crossing causeway where, in wetter times, walkers can enjoy a refreshing dip, but not today, with blue-green algae tinting the pools opaque beneath the midday sun.
As construction was continuing apace the following day, we again decided to absent ourselves from camp by taking a scenic drive to the village of Byfield and the nearby national park. Along the way, we inspected the camping areas at Red Rock and Water Park Creek and found them to be very pleasant indeed, not least because they were quiet and dust-free. The former was a grassy expanse in an open pine forest, and the latter a chain of secluded pockets screened from each other by thick rainforest, all close to a well-appointed day-use area with flush toilets and electric barbecues. After morning tea at Water Park Creek, we took a stroll in the nearby rainforest, following a track through a turpentine forest with a dappled understorey where flourished the elegant Byfield fern (Bowenia serrulata), which isn’t a fern at all but an ancient form of cycad.
As the day was still young and our spirits now emboldened by caffeine, we launched upon a recce of the national park towards Stockyard Point. The QPWS has produced a very good map (available online) of the roads in the Byfield region, with detailed notes on track conditions and vehicle suitability, but even this excellent resource did not prepare us for what we encountered. The Stockyard Point Track from the Water Park Creek crossing to the national park entrance is rated as “2WD rough” and it was a shocker, similar in many ways to some of the worst roads we’ve encountered in more remote parts of Australia, like the Mereenie Loop (NT), the road from Broome to Cape Leveque (WA) and the OTL in Cape York. It was so bad, in fact, that over the years travellers have opted not to drive on it at all but have blazed an alternate road alongside it, with a firm sandy base that was infinitely preferable to the stony torment of the official one.
We followed this as far as the national park where, according to the QPWS map, the track becomes “4WD easy” merging to “4WD medium”. As far as we were concerned, the track was simply going from bad to worse, as was the crack in our windscreen, and we decided to come back another day when we were better prepared for what is, by all reports, an exciting fourwheel driving experience. Back at camp, we consoled ourselves with a couple of warm beverages under the shady bowers beside the non-swimming hole.
We were joined here by Ted who was all sympathy and understanding. And full of useful information like, tomorrow being Friday, we could expect the camp to fill up with rowdy merry-makers who would engage in all manner of Bacchanalian revelry well into the wee small hours, notwithstanding signs declaring the park to be a “Quiet Zone” in which “excessive noise” after 10pm was prohibited. We certainly hadn’t signed up for any of that and, with Ted’s blessing, decided there and then to bring our 5-night booking at Stony Creek to a premature end and move on. But to where?
Here again Ted’s fount of local knowledge flowed, this time with a suggestion that we might try the ‘Ferns Hideaway Resort’, one of several bush retreats in the vicinity of Byfield that offer camping. Next morning, a short phone call (unexpectedly, we had mobile coverage out here) to The Ferns secured us an unpowered site on the edge of their private rainforest. The modest tariff included use of the swimming pool, tennis court, canoes on Water Park Creek and a table for two in the licensed restaurant on Saturday night. It wasn’t quite the trip that we had planned but then plans “gang aft agley”.
On the way to our new accommodation, we took a short detour to the Nob Creek Pottery Gallery on Arnolds Road, about 3km west of the village. The pottery was started about 25 years ago by kiwi and master potter, Steve Bishopric, and is now co-operated with his partner, Sue McBurnie, who has been an art teacher and practising artist most of her adult life. Set among lush gardens on a 25-acre property that was once a commercial citrus orchard, the gallery exhibits not only their own work but also that of more than 45 other artists. Steve’s specialty is pottery that has been fired in “Horrie the Hippo”, a large wood-fuelled Anagama-style kiln he constructed behind the workshop, and his work is represented in private collections as well as State, regional and international galleries. Sue, on the other hand, draws her inspiration from the sea to create slab or coil built pieces and sculptural work. Steve and Sue also work collaboratively, creating, carving and decorating pieces, many of which feature the distinctive motif of the Byfield fern. It was an unexpected pleasure to wander through the several gallery spaces showcasing high-quality hand-blown glass, woodwork, jewellery and ceramics, and to spend a little time chatting with Steve while looking over his shoulder as he bent to the wheel in the workshop.
After this artistic interlude, we set off to Ferns Hideaway on Cahills Road, about 5km north of Byfield village. Established in 1990 by the multi-talented ‘Marto’ and his partner, Genevieve, this secluded retreat is tucked away in 40 hectares of tropical sclerophyll forest with a boundary on Water Park Creek. Travellers wishing to stay in this natural wilderness can do so in colonial style cabins with air-conditioning, spas and television, or (like us) on shady, unpowered campsites (suitable for tents, caravans and camper trailers) with use of a basic camp kitchen, hot showers and bathroom facilities. Patrons also have free and unlimited use of all sporting and boating equipment and a small resort-class swimming pool, which, after the non-aquatic torment of Stony Creek, was a real delight.
And if all that were not enough, the Ferns also boasts a 100-seat air-conditioned restaurant that provides a menu of modern a la carte goodies for lunch Friday to Sunday and dinner on Saturday night, augmented by an extensive wine cellar and live entertainment delivered by Marto and his electric guitar. (Itinerant musicians are welcome to join him on-stage or patrons can simply sing along to his extensive repertoire at their candle-lit tables.)
By now, Tikay’s batteries were all but dead and (we learned on later inquiry) in need of immediate replacement at eye-watering expense. The process of setting up camp had used the last dregs of power, with just enough in reserve to operate the water pumps and bedside LEDs. The process was a harrowing one – the final result in doubt until the very last inch – and left us in such a state of nervous exhaustion that we had to spend the rest of the afternoon laying around the pool. If our plans were unexpectedly going awry, we were glad it was happening here.
Over the next few days we divided our time between the pool, canoeing on the creek and gourmandising in the air-conditioned restaurant. Several phone calls (we also had mobile coverage here) were made to RACQ and various suppliers for the replacement of the windscreen and Tikay’s batteries in Rocky. As luck would have it, this took just two days and we were back on the road again, this time to Blackdown Tablelands, only three days behind schedule. If a moral emerges from this little saga it would be: the best laid plans can, and often do, go astray, but sometimes for the better rather than the worse. In any case, you should expect the unexpected in Byfield.
Location
Byfield township is located 70 km NE of Rockhampton and 34 km N of Yeppoon.
Access
A four-wheel-drive vehicle is needed throughout Byfield Regional Park and the main section of Byfield National Park, which are accessed via Water Park Creek in Byfield State Forest. Allow one hour from Water Park Creek to reach Five Rocks and Nine Mile beaches or Byfield Regional Park in good weather. Byfield State Forest, to the west of the national park, is suitable for conventional vehicles but be on the lookout for trucks carrying timber on state forest roads. The Sandy Point section of Byfield National Park is a 30 minute drive north of Yeppoon and can be accessed via Farnborough Beach (accessed at Bangalee) or Sandy Point Road. Road and track conditions in Byfield can change quickly depending on the weather. Flash flooding and creek rises can cut access after heavy rain. Access to Nine Mile Beach is at Stock Yard Point via ‘Big Sandy’ (a big sand hill), which is highly variable and usually very difficult for first time visitors. The QPWS website has a comprehensive driving guide for tracks within Byfield NP.
Things to do
Fourwheel driving on bush tracks and beaches, bushwalking, mountain-bike riding, horse riding and water-based activities such as boating, fishing, swimming, surfing, canoeing and kayaking.
Camping and accommodation
Camping is permitted at Five Rocks camping area in Byfield Regional Park, and Nine Mile Beach camping area and Scouts Camp at Water Park Point headland in Byfield National Park. Camping is also permitted in Byfield State Forest at Upper Stony, Red Rock and Water Park Creek camping areas. The style of campsites varies from tent only to those suitable for small caravans up to 4m and motorhomes. Camping permits are required at all locations and fees apply. Byfield township offers a range of accommodation, including cabin-style lodging, and there is a wide range of accommodation available in Rockhampton and Yeppoon.
Facilities
The facilities at each of the camping areas vary from none (at the Nine Mile Beach camps where campers must be fully self-sufficient) to a mix of toilets, water (treat before drinking), barbecues, picnic tables and cold showers (at Five Rocks visitors area only).
Fuel and supplies
Fuel and supplies are available in Byfield or Yeppoon.
When to go
Byfield area has a subtropical climate and can be hot, humid and wet. The drier months from April to October are the best times to visit.
What to take
Drinking water, insect repellent, a portable fuel stove (fires are not permitted in Byfield national and regional parks except under strict conditions) and animal-proof containers to secure food and waste.
Contacts and More information
QPWS
E: 1300 130 372 or 13 74 68
qpws@nprsr.qld.gov.au
www.nprsr.qld.gov.au/parks/byfield
Capricorn Coast Information Centre
P: (07) 4939 4888 or 1800 675 785
E: yeppoon@capricorntourism.com.au
Capricorn Shire Information Centre
P: (07) 4927 2055 or 1800 676 701
E: infocentre@capricorntourism.com.au
Ferns Hideaway Resort
P: (07) 4935 1235
Nob Creek Pottery
P: (07) 4935 1161 or 0428 192 601
E: info@nobcreekpottery.com.au