The Singing ship, Capricorn Coast, Emu Park

Motoring on in our pink and blue van, perspiring and singing along to a rock CD given to us by Don from Seventeen Seventy, we rang up Leah Grice as we approached Rockhampton to tell her we were on our way. Leah, her husband David, and their family live in Cobraball, near Yeppoon, where they own 190 acres of land, running an Alpaca farm. Another wwoof contact that was keen to host us raggle-taggle bunch, she assured us they'd saved a job for us to do - collecting the Alpaca poo for a worming sample. We accepted without hesitation, we said we'd do anything, and this pretty much covers that.
Leah told us to arrive in time for dinner, and because, for once, we were making good time, and had a few hours to kill, we decided on a little diversion to Emu Park. As misleading a name for any place since the time I argued with the landlord of a pub, who insisted there were no Guinness trees in his disingenuous Beer Garden, Emu Park has no Emus. Could you imagine how excited we were, thinking that, like Flamingo Land, we’d get to see all the Emus we could poke a stick at. In fact, we probably wouldn’t even need that pointing stick (you know, the one they insist would be useful in zoos, for those truculent animals, who insist on not doing anything, until you walk away, disgusted at the participatory ambivalence of nature to appease us and look cute “that hipplopotomouse looks just like the sofa bed commercial one. How cute. Look honey, it’s opening its mouth and charging this way. Aaah!”) because there would be a whole collective bunch of Emus, frolicking freely in the scrub.

But just as there are no Whisky Shrubs in the Beer Garden (true!) there are no Emus in Emu Park. And I’m sure that Flamingo Land has closed down too by now. Probably because the lazy sods did nothing all day. There really should be a sign for this stuff.

The Singing Ship
Originally uploaded by A Race

The Wind Blows and the Ship, she Sings. Standing by this impressive structure overlooking the Capricorn Coast, it's surfers and the beach picnicers, you can hear the whistling of her organ like structure on the breeze.

So, without an Emu in sight, we followed the signs for The Singing Ship. Situated by the beach at Kele Park, we had no real expectations for it, except that it was a ship, and that it sang a bit. We went for a bit of a swim first, you know. But! The Singing Ship actually sings! It is actually a sculpture, designed in such a way that it sings almost constantly because of the on-shore breezes. The effect, particularly on a clear day when the white ship gleams in the sun, is quite stunning. The design was by Mrs C. M. Westmoreland who won a local competition aimed at commemorating the 200th Anniversary of Cook's discovery of Australia. It was constructed by S. W. Kele, a Rockhampton steel and concrete contractor, and the specific engineering and acoustic problems were handled by George Cain and David Thomas from the Capricornia Institute of Advanced Education. It is a notable and interesting landmark. Were there an Emu to ride bareback around its base ‘twould have been even more notable.
We then drove towards Yeppoon, where we were to meet with Leah who would take us to Cobraball and the Grice family home. Coming over the brow of a hill, down towards the junction after Yeppoon, we noticed the flashing headlights, the gesticulating, waving, smiling person behind the wheel of a monster 4x4, and guessed correctly it was Leah, who motioned us to follow her down the track and to the homestead. Kicking up dust we were outback fellas now; off the beated track, in the scrub, out bush.