20-22/08/21. Dinosaurs and Possum Wars: Girraween NP

All good things must come to an end.  Even the most dedicated relaxers eventually have to pack up and move on, and so it was with us.

We took the long road from Greenup to Stanthorpe via Texas, where we took a morbidly fascinated peek at the closed border and then had picnic smoko on top of the hill, looking across Texas and into the forbidden territory of NSW. 

Gazing across to the badlands.

The road from Texas to Stanthorpe went up and down and around in corners, ducking in and out of blankets of wattle in full bloom. From Stanthorpe we took the highway south to Girraween. Due to the closed border, the highway was virtually empty, in direct contrast to Girraween. Queenslanders playing in their own back yard had filled the campground to capacity, the usual birdsong replaced by the soundtrack of a hundred conversations and the random noise of lots of campers and weekend day-trippers. We set up camp and, over a cup of tea, settled into observing our neighbours.

Multi-level campsite with wattle backdrop.

 

In front of us, (Front Camp) were Mum, Dad, teenage son and pre-teen daughter. They were flummoxed by the absence of water in the showers, although the additional absence of shower heads should have brought them to the conclusion that the only showers to be had at Girraween were ones you brought (and heated) yourselves.  The children (left to oversee the cooking while the parents were elsewhere) debated the flammability of Coke, coming to the conclusion that whilst the liquid is not flammable the gas most certainly is. I was tempted to suggest they pour their Coke on the fire as a cooking accelerant, but decided not to advertise that I was eavesdropping. As the night grew colder they rugged up in animal themed fleece, most noticeably Mum in bright pink onsie complete with hood adorned with long floppy rabbit ears.

In the morning we were woken by dinosaur activity in the camp behind us (Back Camp). Three dinosaurs, with a combined age of around 12, were navigating a complex world of dinosaur danger. At this moment Front Camp Dad emerged yawning from his tent, fully attired in fleecy dinosaur onesie complete with tail and backbone spikes all the way to the top of his fleecy green head. Dinosaurs 1 and 2 were entranced, Dinosaur 3 just wanted his breakfast. Recalled to her own camp Dinosaur 1 took a detour, popping up beside Front Camp Dad to peer into his face with obvious disappointment when she discovered that he was merely a middle-aged man in novelty fleece.

Good Morning from Girraween.

Smokey morning light in Girraween.

 

While campsite anthropology could keep us entertained for ever, the mountains awaited. Specifically the Pyramids, which had grown taller and steeper since we last climbed them 15 years ago.  Back then our 9 year old son summited twice in one day and we tootled up the exposed granite managing to keep ourselves and three children all safely tethered to the earth. This time around we hauled our middle aged bodies up once, suffered our middle aged knees on the way down, and relegated ourselves to flat walks for the rest of the day.

A quick detour via the granite archway on the track to the Pyramids.

Don't push!

The lengths some people will go to just to get a phone connection.

   

We did it!  Just with a bit more effort than last time.

 

The campground was almost empty on our return, Back Camp Dad wrassling the last wailing dinosaur into the family car as  we walked  back into camp. All the dinosaurs had to go to school on Monday, as do the flammable-Coke party, hopefully to an educational science class. 

 

Flat afternoon walk: the buried river.

Granite cliffs above the buried river.

Flat walk 2: wee bird beside the creek.

Reflections in Quart-Pot Creek.

With less human activity the possums moved in to forage, and we had barely retired to the tent at night when a lack of stealth and infighting amongst the invaders tipped us off that possums had invaded our food box.  A stand off ensued: the possums were reluctant to give ground but eventually retreated before a weaponised sandal. The food box was repacked and resealed amid some debate about how it came to be open in the first place. 15 minutes latter a clatter alerted us to the fact that Girraween's possums have learnt how to open plastic clip sealed boxes, and the Possum v Camper battle was reignited. Skirmishes and hand to hand fighting broke out around the picnic table, and again a well-aimed sandal was the weapon that won the war. 

The food box was moved to the car, and the keys kept on person in case the Girraween possums had also learnt how to get into cars.  The possums retreated to grumble in the trees, and we went back to bed and slept the sleep of the victorious.