Winton Qld June 4 2016

Winton Qld June 4 2016

Finally, the big show day had arrived. I was up bright and early, only to be greeted by an all-encompassing thick fog. A strategic return to bed was in order. On our second attempt, after showers and breakfast and sitting about, we made it to the entrance gates at a fashionable 10:30. Rats, we had already missed the Middle-weight short-horn long eared heifers and had to content ourselves with the judging of the #2 stock handlers. These are (generally) kids from the Ag. schools from near and far that turn up in their best show uniforms: dungarees, country shirt, starched and bleached white coat and new Akubra.

Its interesting to watch these young country folk going through their paces: each one leads a beast in on a short lead and has to demonstrate how well they can control that beast using just the lead and a stick that looks like a #7 golf club, only pointier. Considering that the animals are usually very much larger and heavier than the handler, they do remarkably well. Not content with walking them around the ring a few times, they then have to front the judge who asks all kinds of questions about their particular animal: breed, weight, qualities, wether or not its been 'joined' yet or indeed if it is in calf at the time. And they had better know because only the ones who answer all the question correctly are considered for that grand prize: a sash and bragging rights at school. I speak of it lightly, but just as they do in the rodeos, each one of these people is learning their craft and they are the ones who will keep the primary industry of the country going, so there is a point to it all.

Kids from ne of the Ag. Schools doing what they are taught to do: be  cattle farmers. Winton Qld

All you need for a rip-roaring day at the show: a man with a mike, a expert judge, young persons and a few cattle. Winton 

My Star-of-the-Show, Lizzie the Lizard

We ducked into the pavilion: cakes, fruit, flowers, fotos, the usual sort of stuff. Judy was outraged that the flowers were little more than a few sticks torn of the hedge in the driveway on the way here and that the Grand Champion Winner of the Potted Flower First Division was for all intents and purposes, an ex-plant. The cakes, scones and biscuits appeared to have all been cooked by the one lady who, naturally enough, was the Cook-of-the-Show. It's all a bit of fun, i'm sure.

But next door the wool classing and judging was anything but fun and judging by the size and number of sashes handed out, they must have been deadly serious about it.

The competition was fierce for the to sash in the Best Fleece in Show, and we hadn't been anywhere near side-show alley. Winton Qld

There were two rides and a seedy looking pluto-pup stall in side-show alley, so we took our leave and retired to the van for lunch.

Rather than sleep all after noon, we checked out the other attractions around town.

Pelican Waterhole, where the town was first settle in 1866 and abandoned in 1876 after a big flood.

Pelican Waterhole. Once the lifeblood of a thriving town, now a n officially contaminated  puddle. Winton Qld

Pelican Waterhole the town. b1866 d 1876

A rusty cairn to mark the spot of Pelican Waterhole. Winton Qld

Arnos wall, a whole pile of junk retrieved from the town tip and cemented into a wall

Arnos Wall. Winton Qld

Arnos Wall. Winton Qld

The musical fence, a few strands of #8 fencing wire pulled tight which when hit with a rubber hose, resonated and made a noise. There was a suggestion that if you followed the instruction you could produce 'music' to the tune of Waltzing Matilda. If you lost interest in that you could always hit the various bits of metallic rubbish hanging up on old swings set and again, ostensibly make music.

How does it go again? "we all sing Matilda, we all sing Matilda..." Judy at the Musical Fence, Winton Qld

"Four bits of junk, hanging on a swing-set..."

Judy had the final and emphatic word regarding this gem of a tourist attraction, but the sensitivities of my viewing audience and those who call her 'mum' prevent me from putting it here in print.

Right behind this arena of acoustic achievement is a rock and plaque that pronounces that the same first scheduled QANTAS flight as discussed in Charleville, landed right here. It goes on to describe in great depth what an airfield was, and was not, in 1924. Basically it was a flattish area close to where you wanted to land. Anyhow, as they point out, there is absolutely no remaining evidence that it ever existed, the area now be covered in big-truck yards and depots of rusting junk. And on that note, I took not one shot of the said airfield or cairn and hot-footed it back to town.