With my travelling companion now in tow, we arrive at the home of the greatest dinosaur display and collections in the world, the birthplace of Banjo Patterson’s “Waltzing Matilda” (there’s a museum dedicated to it) and it appears, renowned for its fly population as well.

Arriving in to this ,once again, small country town (pop. 954), you’re met by one of the most outstanding displays of main street art I’ve seen. The medium strip is lush green with a billabong representing the origins of this town originally known as Pelican Waterhole. The feature goes on to celebrate the local sheep industry, later in the evening coming alive through light.

A stroll through the shops reflects one historic building that now houses the wares of local artisans, the feature is the cash pulley system still in working order. In yesteryear, the retail assistant would put the money into the cash tin which is then sent by cable to the cashier, to ring through the register and return the change.

The first part of my dinosaur discovery finds me standing side by side with a beast that roamed the planet some 95,000,000 years ago – it’s unfathomable that these skeletal remains have survived and here we are now, painstakingly unearthing them, and piece by piece reuniting this animal, so this boomer is able to understand the history of the land we find ourselves on.

The display and presentation at the Australian Age of Dinosaurs is sensational, the staff, animation and rocky outcrop, collectively, put you back in time!

It would be remiss of me not to mention the flies, rated as a moderate day, I can assure you they nearly drove me mad, I spent 4 hours continually waving them off and berated myself for leaving my ridiculously looking fly net hat in the car!

Departing bright and early next morning, we trek some 110km out of town via a majority dirt road, to be astounded, enthralled and disbelieving what we’re seeing at the Lark Quarry dinosaur stampede. You simply cannot travel to this area without making this journey – to stand and gaze upon the footprints of where dinosaurs would have been taking a drink from the watering hole is remarkable. Again, the enthusiasm of the staff coupled with the animation, leads you into a world long past.

Another highlight of this peculiar town, is the afternoon poetry performance of local – Gregory North who takes you on a lyrical ramble celebrating Banjo Patterson and his beloved Waltzing Matilda. Whilst being entertained, I’m charmed in to the late 1880’s and led through the tales of Banjo’s romance that led to his penning of this iconic Australian anthem.

Kynuna (pop. 20) is quite simply a spot on the map, made famous by a rustic, side of the road pub that is full of old country charm. It’s a mecca for the passer-by to stop, indulge in a brew and pen your name into history on the walls. We were greeted at the Blue Heeler by a swooping maggie whilst the jovial, welcoming publican fed brolgas on the porch.

McKinlay (pop. 30), of which we did not see one. This was a disappointing stop, the pub on the road, made famous by the iconic Australian tale of Crocodile Dundee, was closed. We later learned that the owners are also responsible for several other services to this town and their other duties had them calling.

Onwards and westwards, we arrive into the dusty town of Cloncurry aka “the Curry” (pop. 3200), the mercury had risen and upon arrival at the Wagon Wheel, our chosen evening abode, we decide the evening will be best spent at the local. It should be noted, due to the heat in these parts, the hotels are sealed vaults, windows are shuttered, so at first appearance, you could be forgiven if you thought they were closed. We delve in to the inner sanctum to be pleasantly surprised by warmth and activities taking place. The Saturday afternoon races are winding up on the TAB screens and the footy plays over the bar.

The greeting from cheeky locals, who’ve made a day of it, immediately have us laughing along and joining in the craic. We chat to two fellas who work in the local sale yards with their boss and his wife, just a couple of seats along the bar. These men show signs of more than a few hard days’ work, they’re dusty, weathered by the sun and this Saturday evening, they relax and enjoy more than a few drinks to end their work week. We try in vain to get a commitment from one to join farmer wants a wife, although with a dimpled grin, he candidly tells us, it’s all bullshit!

From a night of poetry to brash conversations, our escapades in local pubs have embedded memories that will provide conversation fodder for future generations!