It was early and the sun beckoned. Chris and I decided to go for a long walk – back to the spot we had found most enchanting just a few days ago, before cyclone Marcia whirled in from the sea and over Yeppoon (up north), and the heavy rain swept across Brisbane. This time the ‘Time Gate’ was chained and locked but it was easy enough to step over so we did just that, and once again we were transported into a bygone age when Australia was a land of bush, dirt roads, stage-coaches and goldfields.

We found the abandoned Gaol and Assayer’s Office, the Palmist’s Hut, the General Store, the Bakery and the Farrier’s place – we even found the Goldfield School (although I would have called it ‘Goldsmiths’). The small settlement was muddy after the recent rain and the mosquitoes were pleased to meet us in the shade under the trees and the corrugated iron roofs of the buildings. Like the miners of yore, we wore no insect repellent and we were feasted upon, and perhaps moreso because our skin is still fair and tender.

At last, our curiosity satisfied (and now itching to leave), we opted to take a different way home. We guessed that the dirt road would lead eventually to a main road from the modern age but first we would walk through cattle country… Cows are really rather large – aren’t they? The herd was up ahead, some in the fields on either side of the track, and others actually on the road. A big cow called Rosie (she had a name tag attached to her left ear) showed no fear of the approaching strangers from a different time zone, in fact she was immensely interested and walked over to us and sniffed us.

“Hello Rosie!” I said in a friendly confident voice and I patted her cheek and nose.

Rosie put her nose in the palm of my hand and sniffed some more. We didn’t feel that she very enamoured with us but perhaps somebody, or something, else did… Suddenly we heard hooves galloping towards us. A big sprightly bull with long pointy horns came running along the field above the track. We looked at him and he at us. Each of us hesitated and halted while we all summed up the situation and decided upon a plan of action.

“Let’s go back Sally,” suggested Chris.

“No, let’s go forward,” I countered, “don’t look at him and let us walk away slowly.”

It’s quite hard to appear nonchalant when a big bull is chasing you. Never-the-less, we stuck to the plan and the bull lost interest – we didn’t turn around to check but we imagine that to be the case because we lived to tell the tale. Before long (in fact we walked rather briskly) we had passed an old farmstead and an area strewn with rusty old vehicles, and we reached another ‘Time Portal’ in the form of another cattle grid. Once across Chris and I saw a ute coming our way and I waved in a friendly and disarming fashion (lest it should be a disgruntled cattle farmer). The driver and his mate smiled back as they drove past. Relief.

Soon we were on the edge of housing estate. We swung our arms and enjoyed the scenery as we sauntered back to the main road. And when we arrived at Roland’s place, nearly three hours after we had set out, we enjoyed recounting our adventure, especially the most exciting bit…