If You Don’t Like The Weather, Wait 5 Minutes

It occurred to me recently that if in order to be a successful travel blogger, I better get out there and actually do some more travelling. At the moment, however, my bank account hears my earnest “But I Want To Travel!” wailing, and responds with a half-hearted, pitiful “Like… To The Backyard?”. Jerk. So instead, I have become a “tourist in my own town” [inaccurate, but “tourist in my own region/area/portion of the state” doesn’t have the same ring to it].

Pro Tip #1: Use what you have available to you already. Check out the places tourists visit in your area – you may have no idea what you’re missing, simply because it’s just up the road.

I took advantage of a recent day off to head off to a little tourist town in my area to spend the day doing some vintage and market shopping, eating gelato, and basking in the sunshine. That was the plan, anyway. Welcome to Queensland, where, if you don’t like the weather, simply wait for a little bit, or move 100 metres up the road.

90 km’s north of Brisbane, nestled in the Sunshine Coast Hinterland, lies a strange little place called Maleny [it really is strange, believe me – I lived there for seven years]. The lesser-known neighbour of Montville, it has the highest number of co-operatives of anywhere in Australia, plus some truly beautiful art galleries, scenery and surroundings, and original architecture in the main street from when the town was founded in the 1800’s [for Australians, this is ancient history right here]. It’s a tourist town that disdains tourists, preferring to live autonomously, not quite understanding that’s what makes it fun to visit. That, and the Colin James Ice Creamery & Fromagerie. Mmm, cheese…

I arrived a little after midday, the sun shining, the crowds pumping – I even considering taking the roof off the convertible. By 2pm I was frantically searching the op shops for a cardigan or coat that didn’t look like I had rummaged it from the bottom of a sale bin, running for the nearest hot coffee, and wondering how I could wear both my sunnies and driving glasses to combat the glare of the rolling fog that had appeared from nowhere and was threatening to crush me under the sheer weight of its magnificence.

It was everywhere, instantly swallowing the tiny town in its epic embrace. The streets went from packed-farmers-market to ghost-town in the space of twenty minutes. I swear I saw it eat a car. Fearing for my life [a little over-dramatically], I persisted in my attempts to #tourist for precisely half an hour longer, said ‘screw this’, and packed up and headed for the hills. Not the literal hills. Away from the hills. The hills were being eaten alive, with me on top of them.

Truth be told, it really was kind of magical, and when all the traffic had disappeared and everyone had fled home, it was pretty easy to pretend I was back in those early times when the town was settled. Which made me feel technologically deprived and also fairly racist [always happens when I think about being white in the 1800’s], so I shook that shit off and went home to put on four layers of clothing and watch a movie.

Pro Tip #2: Your grandmother was right. You should always have a sweater with you when you leave the house. Even in Queensland.

Of course, a few kilometres outside of Maleny the weather changed again. The fog lifted, torrential rain poured for three harrowing, hour-long minutes, and the rest of the drive home was spent marvelling at the masses of steam rising off the roads as it was, being Queensland in summer, stinking hot despite the rain and fog.