Australia

A dino detour

A roadtrippin’ adventure through Outback Queensland’s dinosaur country

Out here, the one-finger wave says more than a thousand words.

You know the one; hand stays on the wheel, index finger flicks up in a kind of lazy salute as you pass another car on the road.

It’s not much, but in Outback Queensland, it’s the equivalent of a heartfelt hug and a “G’day, mate.” After a few days out here, you find yourself doing it instinctively.

I’d set off on a road trip through Queensland’s Dinosaur Trail thinking I was going to be all about the fossils, the bones, and the big prehistoric creatures I never even knew existed. Turns out, it was the tiny towns along the way that really made me feel like I’d driven straight into a warm, dusty postcard - one that might be a little frayed around the edges, mostly forgotten at the bottom of a drawer, but with a picture still as bright and eye-catching as ever.

My first stop was Richmond. A place that’s small enough to blink and miss but big enough to hold a 100-million-year-old secret. You roll into town and immediately get that feeling like everyone knows you're not from around here, but not in a suspicious way. More in a mildly curious and endearing, “Where do you come from,” way.

Kronosaurus Korner is the local Dino haunt, and I went in to learn all about the ancient sea monsters. What I left with was a brain full of mind-bending facts and a new appreciation for just how weird and wonderful Outback history really is.

This place is where Richmond casually flexes its prehistoric muscles, showcasing 100-million-year-old marine fossils dug up right from the surrounding paddocks. You can even do a ‘dig at dawn’ experience that allows you to get your hands dirty, digging for fish scales, shells and coprolite (dino poop).

From there, I followed the dusty ribbon of highway to Hughenden, where there are roughly three shops, 27 dinosaurs (replica ones, but still), and the kind of country hospitality that makes you feel like you’ve accidentally joined someone’s family reunion.

The Flinders Discovery Centre is where it’s all happening; it has a life-sized Muttaburrasaurus and an entire exhibit explaining how this part of the country was once an ancient inland sea. Standing there, looking at a fossilised fish that once swam above the very dirt I was now walking on, my brain did a kind of slow backflip.

But nothing - and I mean nothing - prepared me for Winton.

If Richmond and Hughenden are the entrée and main, Winton is dessert. It’s a proper outback hub, buzzing with caravanners, grey nomads, families with dust-covered kids, and that one guy in a kitted-out 4WD who definitely doesn’t know how to use any of the gear strapped to his roof. Winton is the kind of town where you can check into a motel, lose track of time, and end up staying three extra days without meaning to, especially when there’s Banjo Patterson poetry being performed at the local pub.

Let’s start with the Royal Open Air Cinema. It’s the oldest open-air cinema in the world, which means it’s got more stories than your nan and twice the charm. Sitting under the stars with a choc top in hand, watching a western while galahs heckle from the rafters - it’s like Netflix got tired of the same ol’ shit and moved to the bush.

Then there’s the Crack Up Sisters museum, which is as bonkers as it sounds. It’s slapstick comedy, whip-cracking spectacle and living shrine to all things larrikin rolled up into one collection of crazy. It’s filled with memorabilia and oddities and will absolutely rope you into participating in something ridiculous before you leave (try having a luck shower).

For dinner, I made my pilgrimage to the North Gregory Hotel, a pub with a name that sounds like a character from a Ned Kelly novel. The food was exactly what you want after a day of dusty adventuring; hearty, unpretentious, and likely served at the counter by someone who calls everyone “darl.”

The next day, I drove to the Australian Age of Dinosaurs museum just outside of town. Perched dramatically on a jump up (which is a local word for “big rocky hill thing”), the museum gives serious Jurassic Park meets Mad Max vibes.

There’s a fossil lab where you can see scientists chipping away at bones and walking trails that make you feel like you’re being quietly watched by something with very sharp teeth and a complicated Latin name.

Learning how these creatures ended up in the middle of Australia, buried under eons of sediment and red dust, genuinely blew my mind. I left with a newfound respect for both palaeontologists and sunscreen.

And just when you think you're all fossil'ed out, Mt Isa throws its hat into the prehistoric ring with the Riversleigh Fossil Centre. While it doesn't have a focus on dinosaurs, a tour around the museum will see you come face to fluff with Australia's most ancient (and thankfully) extinct locals.

You'll discover giant wombats, flesh-eating kangaroos and tree-climbing crocodiles in their brand new interactive exhibition. You can even take a closer look in their lab where tiny bat teeth and small rodent jaws are on display under microscope.

But for all the bones and beasts, what really stuck with me during this journey was the people. Every servo stop came with a yarn. Every cafe had a story. There’s a slowness to outback life that you don’t realise you’ve been craving until you’re sitting in a caravan park somewhere, listening to two local boys hand out raffle prizes as you eat homemade apple pie (with ice cream and custard) while trying not to get eaten alive by gidgee bugs.

The Dinosaur Trail might lure you in with the promise of ancient wonders, and fair enough, because those fossils are bloody impressive, but it’s the towns, the characters, and the glorious in-between that make the journey unforgettable.

Just don’t forget to lift that finger as you drive. You don’t wanna be that person who doesn’t.