Cycling In Queensland can produce a few surprises. I enjoy the scenery and the people. But it's the situations one gets into that makes trips memorable.
Here's what happened to Mick and I in Kin Kin, Queensland, Australia while on a cycle tour.
The restaurant in the pub was closed because it was Monday. Looking around town late afternoon we found one abandoned shop, a school and a few houses. Nothing else. We were there, staying in a pub with a closed restaurant in a small town with no tucker and it was the end of a long day. It was almost time to eat and we were worried.
Expecting to have beer for tea we settled into the bar where a couple of other guys were drinking. There was no conversation in the offer as they were both just emptying their glasses and heading home. A women came in, purchased her box of wine for the evening, looked at us with suspicion then left Mick and I to the barman. He was older guy and very friendly so we didn't lack for company after all. It turned that his son owned the pub and he was running the show as a favour while son worked in a mine. Fathers do this sort of thing.
When our new friend discovered our plight he asked if we could cook. Of course we could. We were experts at pasta and could fry anything and what's more I had a few sausages in my pannier bag because sausages are great cycling food. Cook more than you need and take the rest for lunch the next day.
“I'll show you where you can cook yourselves a feed,” the barman said as he unlocked the door into the restaurant. We followed him into the world behind the door. The size and upmarket décor of the restaurant astonished us and the kitchen was overwhelming. This was not a country pub as we knew them. There was an acre of stainless steel on the walls and a small truck deck size bench with an industrial size oven under a large gas hob. We were shown a huge walk in chiller and told to help ourselves to whatever took our fancy. There was also a large walk in freezer for the exploring but we decided we'd stick with our sausages rather than abuse the man's hospitality by chomping our way through the steaks in his freezer.
Mick and I set about gathering up an armful of veges and a bowl of salad. We got everything ready, Mick set a table, complete with linen cloth, in the middle of the dining room while I got the hob roaring, boiled the veges and gave the sausages what for. Armed with a pint we dined in splendour that night.
This was a mystery pub. A town that was so small it could only just be called a town had this large freshly renovated two story hotel with a large restaurant? It puzzled us. Upstairs were new showers, the bedroom we had was basic but immaculate with a wardrobe, something most country pubs lack and we were used to hanging our stuff on the floor. Usually we got a room not much bigger than its two beds but here we had space. From the balcony we looked over a large courtyard crowded with tables, most sporting umbrellas, a big shed with a chiller, a large bar and a big barbecue. Money had been spent here and this place was set up for some serious catering. After our meal the mystery was solved.
