The King is Dead

The Fitzroy was river number 13 and the drive to Emu Park was emu-free.  When we arrived, the wind was blowing a gale and the Singing Ship was doing just that.  A quick trip to the pub and the supermarket and we were right for the night.  Our temporary home this time was a cabin at Fisherman's Beach Holiday Park, which appeared to be full.  Everyone seems to be out and about doing their bit for Queensland tourism.  The cabin had the world's smallest shower cubicle; when I tried to wash my foot, it pushed the door open.  I also discovered that it is a good idea to pull down the blind if you are using the shower with the connecting door to the bedroom open.  The other thing the cabin had in the second bedroom was bunks.  With our injured ribs, shoulders and knee, none of us could cope with a top bunk, so we stripped it of its bedding and made up the fold-down lounge for Jo to sleep on.

Jan modelled the beautiful brown skirt that she had bought that day, and then did her domestic duties re the dinner roster. The rissoles were delicious.  Another early night meant that I was up at sunrise raring to go.  Unfortunately my walking buddies were still snoring.  I slipped out and headed for the beach.  The birdsong in the thick foliage behind the dunes was probably the best dawn chorus I have ever heard.  I wandered along the wide, empty beach then back through the streets of the town, with the Singing Ship clearly audible, suddenly realising this was my first chance to do a spot of geocaching.

The cache was hidden behind a monument to the colourful Australian politician King O'Malley, next to the town's museum. I found it quickly then wondered what O'Malley had to do with Emu Park. 

The plaque told of his arrival at Port Alma in 1888, suffering from tuberculosis, and his subsequent trip north with two fishermen to a point just south of Emu Park.  He took shelter in a cave and was found by a local aborigine called Coowonga, who fed him and nursed him back to health.  The pair walked to Rockhampton, and then separated. O'Malley then walked all the way to Adelaide, a journey of more than 1400km.  Impressive.  The old railway signs from local stations were mounted on the wall of the museum, and I noted that one of them was named Coowonga.

After I was back in Brissie, I decided to do some further research on Mr O'Malley.  He managed to get himself elected to parliament in both South Australia and Tasmania, before commencing his long stint in Federal politics.  He was famously the last survivor of Edmund Barton's 1901 government, and oversaw the design competition for the city of Canberra.  He is commemorated ironically there by King O'Malley's Irish Pub, the man who had alcohol banned in the ACT!  However, the Emu Park story seems to be completely made up, as a cover for the true reason he left America, namely because he was wanted there for embezzlement.  There are reliable reports of his being in both Sydney and Melbourne in 1888, and the man was well known for being a bullshit artist.  Don't believe everything you read on plaques, folks.

When I returned to the cabin, the girls were awake, so it was breakfast, pack and head for the local oppy, where we arrived on the stroke of 9.00.  It was a well patronised Vinnies. I even managed to find a couple of things to buy.  

We didn't see any real emus in Emu Park (as MIchael and I had done many years ago) before we left, but the town is full of metal ones, all bearing information signs about local history. 
Cute.