CAMPSITE # 148 - History in the making

When I googled Bramston Beach Plantation Caravan Park, certain words jumped out at me as I began painting a picture of the most prestigious tropical caravan park... Quiet Tranquillity, Tropical Paradise, Coconut Palms, Blue of the Great Barrier Reef shimmering like a mirage on hot days. I was certain we were about to arrive to our very own holiday resort. As we made entrance through the gateway where the Australian flag was torn and rather dishevelled, I was disappointed in their lack of patriotism and hoped they had more pride in their caravan park than they did in their country. As we drove down the driveway and passed a shanty village of abandoned surf shacks, I began to think that they certainly didn't marry up to the pictures on their website. The luxurious looking crystal clear pool pictured online was nothing but a dirty old concrete hole in the ground.

I felt so disappointed that someone had let such a beautiful beachfront property, screaming potential, just go to ruins. In search for reception, we followed a somewhat makeshift looking sign pointing towards what looked like an abandoned old club house. The fishing memorabilia and black & white photographs that hung above us told me that the club house was once loved and cherished by somebody once upon a time.

As my eyes slowly gazed across the room, I tried to look beyond the mess and chaos that lay before me. I tried to imagine a couple of prestigious old club man donned in their exclusive Bramston Fishing Club Sports jackets, with oversized pipes appearing beneath their thick white moustaches. They would have spoken in the heavily British influenced radio announcer voices, having a jolly old time over a couple of Fosters.

I leant over the historical bar at the back of the building with a faded "Bob & Dolly's Bar" delicately & cursively written across it. We were greeted by a very friendly young man with a head full of dread locks and a giant smile on his face. Was he the culprit? Was he the one that let it all come to this? Even though I desperately wanted to lean across the counter and shake him so hard to let out my frustration on what he had potentially destroyed, I knew it wouldn't help me get the answer I was searching for... why? I felt a waft of emptiness as we learnt that in less than a few weeks time, the bulldozers would come in and everything would be destroyed. It was the end of an era and the clubhouse resort would soon be transformed into a 150 beachside mansion housing development. 

I wondered about Bob & Dolly and secretly wished they were still standing behind that bar, ready to serve us a cold one while they told a story to match each of the photos hanging on the walls of their immaculately presented built-with-love club house. They would have been quite the friendly pair and extroverted as it seemed that Bob was quite the Thespian, having hosted the very first Australia game show - Pick A Box.  


Now that I understood the reasoning behind its neglect, I told myself to stop looking at the aesthetics of the place and to start appreciating it for its true beauty. Sad as it may be, we were amongst the last guests to stay at the historical, Bramston Beach Plantation Caravan Park.

Site : Bramston Beach Plantation Caravan Park
Rating : 14 / 20
Facilities : Right on the beach with your own beach access. Wide open spaces with glowing green grass. $20 per night for unpowered. A million dollar spot! 2 points positive swing each from Tom and I.

On route to Bramston Beach, we stopped in at the Innot Hot Springs that were marked on our map. These hot springs were officially the worst ones we've been to. By springs they meant dirty old creekbed and by hot they meant scolding / boiling / can't even dip your toes in without getting third degree burns. We had a little chuckle at the painting they had that displayed half naked models posing for a splash in the pot holes...

James and Tom figured they could do better!! ... Whooop wooooo boys ;)