The smell of Queensland

Since we emerged from the outback into the lush green Atherton Tablelands way back in July, we've become accustomed to seeing cane fields pretty much everywhere. They're as much a part of the east coast landscape as beaches, tropical foliage and dangerous animals. We've grown quite fond of them.

There's no doubt about it, sugar is big business in the sunshine state. And in each of the larger regional towns we've passed through, there have been sugar mills, billowing thick white smoke and smelling like you've just over-caramelised the top of your crème brûlée. That's the smell of Queensland.

Sugarcane came to Australia on the ships of the first fleet in 1788, but it wasn't until 1862 that the first commercially viable cane plantation was established near Brisbane. However the European settlers of the day lacked both the physical strength and the inclination to undertake the hot, backbreaking work of a cane cutter, and a severe labour shortage threatened the future of the industry. So the Queensland Government supported a scheme to import cheap labour from the islands of the South Pacific, and an estimated 62,500 Islanders were brought to Queensland between 1863 and 1904. Most Islanders came voluntarily, but many were kidnapped - or "blackbirded" - and others persuaded to travel to Queensland by coercion, force and deception.

In 1904 these practices finally came to an end following Federal Government legislation in 1901 - the same legislation also saw most of the Pacific Island cane cutters deported. Migrants from Italy and other European countries looking for a better life in Australia took up the opportunity of employment in the cane fields and now many sugarcane growers in Queensland are descendants of the early cane cutters. It wasn't until the mid 1960s that mechanical harvesters took over the task of cutting the cane.

As we drive along it's interesting to see all the different stages of sugar production. From fields that have been harvested and re-sown through to fully mature canes ready to be crushed and milled.

All along our travels we've seen signs advising us to use our "train brain" - loosely translated to "give way to the bloody cane trains you silly southerners". These very, very long narrow-gauge trains carry cut cane to the mills, weaving among the cane fields, through towns and across roads. They're so long, it's possible to give way to the same train several times. We know this because we've done it. Stanley loves sticking his head out of the window to watch them rattle past.

The mills work day and night from July to November.  The cane is crushed to release juice, which is then evaporated until crystals of raw sugar form. In the milling process nearly all of the cane is utilised.  Fibre left over from the crushed cane becomes fuel for the mill boiler, and ash and mud from the mill is returned to the cane field as fertilizer.  Molasses, the syrup residue remaining after the raw sugar crystals are made, is used for stock feed and in distilleries. Which brings us to Bundaberg.

We spent a few days in an Airbnb in Bundy (which is a story in itself) while Loretta was having a few enhancements done. Bundaberg's main claim to fame is, of course, the Bundaberg Rum Distillery. We went for a look, because that's what you do in Bundy, but preferred exploring some of the more scenic parts of town, including the beautiful Elliot Heads (dogs prohibited), and a strawberry farm with the best home made strawberry ice cream we've had so far (dogs allowed with conditions).

We're now happily back in Loretta and back on the road, using our train brain.