So that's the orientation this time around. A four day schedule took us from Bowen to Townsville and on to Sydney Tuesday. Wednesday night has Hughesy catching up with The Pope of Pop before an Elvis Costello & The Imposters show. Thursday morning has us off for a ramble through the Botanic Gardens and a bit of shopping action before Dr. John and Aaron Neville in the evening and Anzac Day has us heading back north.
And we need to do that orientation bit because there's nothing particularly remarkable about the sequence of events on your actual Day One. Latish rise, finish packing, hunt cats out of the house and go. That was, more or less, it. There was the predictable minor panic when the iPod earbuds seemed to have gone missing, which was enough to ensure that I left the mobile phone on the desk in the office, and that, along with hunting reluctant felines out of the indoors meant we were on the road by eight-thirty, a little later than anticipated.
That took one minor task out of the equation. I'd planned on cashing up at the ATM in Bowen, but we headed straight for the highway instead. The flight was scheduled to leave at 1:20, so we had about five hours to fill in, and a two and a half hour drive meant there was room for delays and a little assassination of time along the way.
I killed a whole five minutes looking for a Commonwealth Bank ATM after a comfort stop in Home Hill, and we made our way into Townsville around ten-forty having opted not to take the short cut around Ayr. We'd been going that way to avoid extensive roadworks, but the disruption in that department was down to one smallish section.
Nothing else to report along the way.
Brunch was an issue, and we'd kicked a few options around before deciding to head for Otto's Bakery in warring, figuring that we could stop there and eat or grab something to eat down on The Strand if there was significant time that needed to be killed.
As it was, we ended up eating there, bruschetta and a smoked salmon bagel, which filled the respective spaces rather well, and headed to the airport via the shopping centre at the Garbutt lights and another abortive attempt to find a Commonwealth ATM.
I suppose we could have headed for The Strand, but it was threatening to drizzle and we headed straight to the airport. No dramas there, either.
Two and a half hours' flying time Townsville to Sydney delivered nothing in that department either, and we paused to check email in the terminal on the way to the per booked shuttle. Had we opted to stay at the Rendezvous we could have taken the train, but Spice I Am and The oak barrel were trilling their siren song and we were, once again, off to the Travelodge in Wentworth Avenue.