Tramping tales for October 2018

After a stormy long weekend in Caboolture it was good to see a blue domed sky as we pulled out of the showgrounds and took the D’Aguilar Highway to Kilcoy and onwards to Esk. We were soon to realise that despite setting off early, the road was incredibly busy and our slow  progress up and down the hilly country road with uneven surfaces did not help the situation. We pulled aside in Toogoolawah to take a phone call from our daughter. While Lea caught up on Perth news George looked at possible campgrounds in this delightfully named town. There were a few options. At the end of our conversation,  we headed for Toogoolawah Showgrounds to be rid of the busy highway.  This showground was a wide open spacious place with everyone well spread out. We settled and over lunch heard the sounds of aeroplanes, perhaps doing ‘circle and bump’ training  on an airfield close by. A tractor was also cleaning up after the weekend rain and dumping sand in boggy sections of the showground. Following our afternoon tea we took a walk around the showground boundary and suddenly the sky was ablaze with colour - like jelly beans falling, parachutes filled the sky. A beautiful sight and before our stay was over, we were to see many jumpers flood the sky. As the planes returned to the landing strip, they flew low over our heads.

Passing through the Lockyer Valley – scene of devastating floods in January 2011 there was little to  help us understand the sheer magnitude of the high drama that played out in this region. From Gatton we took the ‘lower’ road through the Great Dividing Range to Warwick and returned to a campsite we recalled well,  set within a winding road  and steep cuttings with warnings of falling rocks and land-slides. On arrival at Heifer Creek, we immediately noticed a goanna beleaguered by Noisy Miner with their strident  call of complaint - ‘pwee pwee pwee’.  We’d last camped here with Leecy in January 2009  enjoying the resident kookaburras hawking cicadas in the evening. This peaceful spot now boasted the goanna,  five  brush turkeys along with pied currawongs to entertain us. Finding we had no signal so close to Toowoomba  gave rise to a lot of angst during the night due to the situation in Perth with Lil Holly.

At the entrance to the rest area we found the memorial to the Thiess family (talented and mechanically minded brothers). We had forgotten about them. Their first major earthworks job had been to excavate the impressive Heifer Creek cutting through which we’d passed earlier – cut through sandstone with the aid of jack hammers and a Caterpillar D8.

The Thiess Cutting

Just before leaving Heifer Creek George noticed one of the gas hoses was leaking.  Our road up the valley continued to climb, twist and turn (crossing Heifer Creek seven times) as we made our way towards the New England highway. We were taken aback at the sight of drought stricken farms - the land without any grass cover whatsoever, no crops of any sort, the dams dry and  each homestead stood out in brown, baked earth.  Signal evaded us as we tried to google directions to Jane (Junor) Palmer’s home. Even our  Garmin GPS was unable to pick up satellite and give us directions. Finally through broken service we made contact with Jane; our Garmin began to work and took us climbing ever steepening grades in first gear. When we arrived at destination – the  house number was not correct. The next half hour proved traumatic  as we battled steep inclines and put our rig into dangerous predicaments. Finally Jane was able to recognise where we were and have us turn around  and reclimb the steep hill  to find her waiting at her gate - further back from where Garmin announced arrival! Her house number had eluded us as it faced the direction people generally came from! Such relief to fit through her entrance and  find a site on her 10 acre property with magnificent views across the Dividing Range and Toowoomba region.

    

Before sunset, we took a walk up through her property along the ridge and found a newborn black calf lying dead inside her boundary fence.  Its origins  unclear. Jane had been away in the days preceding our arrival.  Jane cooked sadza, boerewors and gravy for dinner – a nod to our past history together!

We headed into Toowoomba next day to find our bearings and obtain a  map of Toowoomba before going to see the ‘left-overs’ of the annual Carnival of Flowers on display in Queens Park – The blaze of colours carefully blended; the  plants selected to create interesting textures’  all provided a truly amazing sight.

We followed up with iced coffee in the Cobb & Co museum before setting off for the industrial area to buy a new gas hose and 12v socket; refuel with diesel; replace the drained gas bottle before returning home. Dark clouds began to roll in from the east indicating a change in the weather. Sure enough by evening a light drizzle teased the desperately dry garden that wallabies had been fraught enough to ring bark 3 of Jane’s young citrus trees with their gnawing.

  

The soft steady rain setting in during the night brought slight relief not only to Jane’s parched garden but also many drought stricken areas in NSW, some receiving as much as 100mm. Between the bouts of gentle soaking rain  we were engulfed in mist, reminding us of high country, Victoria. George managed to do a few odd jobs around the property for Jane while Lea saw to jobs in the caravan. That evening, we dragged out winter clothing  to face the elements and nervously set  off to take the unbelievably steep ride up to the home of  Tim and Les Howman. They took us for a meal at an Irish pub in the old part of Toowoomba and we were very glad not to be driving. However, at an unusually late hour for us,  we had to back track home very cautiously – every nerve on edge. Drips of water were soaking Lea’s thighs. We had no idea where rain was getting in and we had no idea where rain had entered - possibly the hole made for solar panel wiring?   

Another wet, misty day dawned –  we joined the Toowoomba Howman clan for lunch at ‘Pamusoro’ –  Heath with his wife Deborah and Traill with wife Michelle arrived with their  delightful young offspring - made for a very special family day together. We returned to Jane just before dark, lit a fire in the lounge and spent the evening catching up on the past and looking at pictures of the magnificent house she and Jonathan had built on their farm in Centenary – later to be burnt to the ground by Zimbabwean “war vets”. 

The  weather cleared enough for us to  head into the city and attend the Lost Trades Fair – an event designed to celebrate ancient traditional trades. In the muddy grounds we found much to observe - wagon wheel making, bucket making (cooperage), blacksmithing, saddle making, bookbinding and lead-lighting across one side. Chatting with the artisans keen to share their knowledge. 

On another side wood carvers, tinsmiths, whip makers, leather workers, tool makers and spoon makers demonstrated their skills – George was thrilled by it all especially a young lad (14 years perhaps) making trout flies. Jane had joined Lea after church and they had been blown away by fabric printing involving the use of leaves to steam dye their imprints.  This was by far the most impressive  old trade on show. We lunched together in  Cobb & Co  before Jane led us to Officeworks to photocopy E G Howman’s life  before paying a visit to Laurel Bank Park to see the garden display laid out in celebration of the Commonwealth Games held in Brisbane earlier this year.

That evening the three of us went for supper with Tim and Les and delivered  the EG Howman  story as an addition to his archive only to find – after all our running around, adding Lynne Osterberg tracking it down  with difficulty – Tim already had it on his bookshelf!  

School holidays over - Jane returned to work. Lea began  a big laundry on Jane’s behalf.  An unexpected thunderstorm forcing Lea to frantically run around gathering in loads of sheets off the line. Thankfully it was short lived and she completed the loads and had the outstanding linen folded away by mid-afternoon. We had Tim and Les coming to enjoy Jane’s view and have afternoon tea with us. Jane had taken out a large roast and suggested Tim and Les join us for our last night in Toowoomba. Professional training held Jane up and Lea  had to get dinner underway. Not a problem- or wasn’t until errm…the oven would not heat up. Lea battled a very complicated oven despite Jane’s help over the phone. Grey hair continued to come out in chunks when the fire alarm was set off  by the hot oven. Opening doors to dissipate the smoke of pork  crackling  brought a horde of large and noisy blow flies. Of course, Tim and Les arrived at this particular tense moment in time.

It was Les and Tim’s 41^st wedding anniversary. Thereafter, we are glad to say - everything fell beautifully into place and we enjoyed a happy last night together.

 

The cycle of our lifestyle  had us back on the road heading for Warwick – 35km beyond.  in the vicinity of Thane we decided to see what the privately run Glendon Camping Ground had to offer us nomads. It lay at the end of a 3 or 4km  dirt road where George was met by  fellow not into welcoming his guests. $20 for an unpowered site; no water on tap and it  wasn’t suitable for drinking.  Having done over 100kms today we coughed up and picked a spot on a signed Gum Tree Island - with plenty of birds roaming about magpies, apostles, and miners. A maggie and her  clamorous  youngster hopped into our doorway to beg for  titbits.

We gained a better impression of the campground after taking a walk – This place obviously marketed families with quad and trail bikes. Many circuit tracks sporting a variety of humps had been created. Aside from the huge number of campsites dotted informally all over the property along with signs prohibiting bikes in certain areas – we realised this campground could be very busy and incredibly noisy in peak times. Thankfully - roos bounded all over the place demonstrating we had chosen a good time to visit .

We continued the road heading SW towards Goondiwindi on the Queensland / NSW border, shaken by the large amount of road kill, dead wallabies lying on the verges. On a rather bare tree literally to the side of the road it took time for Lea’s brain to discern the shape she had seen hugging the tree was a young koala. 50km from Goondiwindi we pulled into the Yelarbon Recreation grounds- power and watered sites for $15! Nearby, a  small billabong, backwater on the Dumaresq River with plenty of both wild and domestic ducks:  a Muscovy with three little ducklings and  a crippled black swan amongst them. All, obviously kept fed by the locals..

We had just completed a walk through the village when the heavens opened up and to blinding flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder, it began to rain – deafening inside the caravan until it had passed, yet the storm continued to rumble away in the distance for the rest of the night

We woke to breaking news of  a 7.3 magnitude earthquake in Papua New Guinea.  Knowing our son-in-law Paul had flown over to the remote OK Tedi mine site for the week gave rise to  high level anxiety.  America’s Hurricane Michael monopolised all channels as it created chaos in Florida, with winds gusting up to 280k/hr. We just had to believe no further news was good news on PNG. Paul  put our sub-conscious fears to rest arriving back in Cairns at the end of the week – He had felt nothing!

Approaching Goondiwindi across the very flat open plains we were struck by the many prickly pears still growing in the road reserve. Time for the caterpillars of the Cactoblactus moth to be brought back as a form of biological control! Landowners appeared to have sprayed  to suppress growth on their lands.

The Newell highway, full of massive trucks, was in poor shape – so rough and uneven that we could well have  been  a boat on a choppy sea as our rig swayed  and bounced about. Nor did the condition of the road improve after crossing the border bridge over the Macintyre River into NSW. Our clocks advanced an hour and with no suitable road stops we reached Moree in time for lunch. We found an unpowered site at the Showgrounds overlooking the floodplain of the strongly flowing Mehi River.  We managed a hurried walk down to the river once we realised the dark looming clouds  were threatening to dump on Moree – we didn’t quite make it home  when the rain came down in force.

Mehi River, Moree

A new route   took us to Narrabri through large empty swathes of cultivated land devoid of crops with  dust devils whipped up in a breeze.  Mt Kupatar Range appeared on the horizon  reminding us of our visit to that  National Park  and the memories of the climb to the top five years ago (Oct 2013).  Since Yarrie Lake was not far away, we decided to revisit, since we’d so enjoyed camping there last time. The lake lay 25km west of Narrabri and, more importantly, we should have realised given the drought stricken state of NSW, we’d find it bone dry!

Yarrie Lake dry (in 2018) and wet (in 2013)

Other than a Rottweiler guarding the caretaker residence - nothing stirred. With that we turned back to Narrabri and pitched camp in the Showgrounds, the low grey skies overhead indicating rain may be coming.  After several attempts to get TV reception George eventually discovered he had not connected the aerial!!  Before long it was pouring with rain and we were not to set foot out of the van again. 

”There’s a grey horse striding gamely along the milky way – and the rider  waves a hand and turns to go”… We lost Little Holly today. 

                                           

Born on the 13 December  1977 she died on the 13 October 2018 at 5a.m. Perth time. We had begun our move out of Narrabri Showgrounds - and knew immediately her ‘time’ had come  when multiple phone calls back and forth to Keith Bell failed to connect us. In between the desperate attempts to make contact the brief text said it all. Amid the noise of our motor engine and the traffic sounds George failed to hear Lea read it out, his mind intent on driving and filling up with fuel.  Alone,  each with their own thoughts  we made the 90 km  trip to Pilliga, west of Narrabri. It was only when we’d set up in the grounds of an artesian bore bath that realisation struck … George had not heard the confirmation text from Keith amidst disrupting sounds! Grey skies and chilly winds added to the misery of the day. Lea wrapped herself in a blanket to try and escape the rest of the day in a book; a couple of white butterflies caught Lea’s eye as they hovered around a small bush not far from the doorway. Before long, the same bush was alive with a multitude of small white butterflies adding further pathos to the day.  

         

With heavy hearts and  no desire to stay and take a dip in the Pilliga Bore Baths we pushed on the following day. Not before going into the “town” to pay the $5 overnight Bore fee at the café.   Such a scruffy, ram shackled collection of near derelict corrugated shacks in the bleakest of bleak surrounds made up the town.  And yet, on the corner of Cypress Way, taking us to Baradine,  two small eco-friendly homes were under construction. At our  next destination 70km to the south, we learnt Pilliga, home of the local Gamilaroi people, got its start in 1885 from the early development of the timber industry and was once, an important centre on the Cobb & Co route.

We took the gravel road known as Cypress Way to Baradine and soon realised why. On either side there was virtually nothing  else than cypress trees. Little did we realise at the time, we had entered the largest cypress forest in the southern hemisphere. Black cypress grows to the east of the Pilliga Forests while the more important white cypress resource grows in the north and west! The presence of a disused railway line adjacent to the road had us surmise that at some stage in the past the Pilliga forest (an area no less than half a million hectares in extent growing on a massive bed of sandstone) had once been an important source of timber.  Indeed, before long we were to learn that for the past 100 years up to 75 000 tonnes of white cypress had been extracted from the forest annually by the 25 saw mills operating in the area. Decay and termite resistant -  white cypress had dominated Australian flooring for over 30 years. In addition, iron bark trees in the forest (eucalypts) were used for railway sleepers until 2000, when rail-lines replaced wooden sleepers with concrete and steel. Today more than half the forest is protected in conservation reserves run by the NPWS, while the rest of it is managed on a sustainable basis by the NSW Forestry Corporation for timber production.

Satellite image of 500 000ha Pilliga Forest

Camp Cypress located in a portion of the Baradine Showground was our home for the next two nights.  Once we had selected our site we made our way to the Pilliga Forest Discovery Centre. A beautifully designed building (made of cypress pine) brimming with interactive displays, friendly staff and information of every sort - accounts of the “sand monkeys” (derived from the Aboriginal word moongie) that occur; ancient river beds that have shifted due to sand deposition;   the “yowies” that people claim to have seen roaming around the place not to mention the “Pilliga Princess” - an old homeless lady who had gone ‘bush’ in the forest for several years and was sometimes been seen roaming the edge of the Newell highway, until she was killed by a truck.

We came away loaded with brochures, descriptions of where to find the 230 species of birds that frequent the area (bird routes compiled by a local ornithologist David Johnston), road maps, information about the geology and wildlife, further information about the Sculptures in the Scrub we had specially come out here to see. We were definitely armed and ready with the fire history of the area; its wildflowers, the sandstone caves and salt caves for our trip out to the Pilliga Forest next day. All we needed was for the weather, still looking ominous, not to let us down.

Our day dawned without a cloud in the sky and we set off soon after breakfast  for our Pilliga Forest experience … a truly rewarding experience it proved to be. The Sculptures in the Scrub, produced by five very talented artists, lay 35km from Baradine in the Timmallallie National Park on the edge of the Dandry Gorge. To view them involved taking an easy, well-formed walking track that, for the first 1.5km, followed the rim of the gorge along which the sculptures had been placed at intervals, each very different and each emphasising the spiritual significance of the area to the local Aboriginal people. Each beautifully crafted and in their different settings very meaningful.

Thereafter the track descended onto the floor of the gorge from where one could look up at certain of the sculptures and just enjoy the ambience of what is clearly a very special place.

Much of the forest through which we passed had been ravaged by fires in January this year, the blackened stems of the trees (bravely re-sprouting from underground lignotubers that contain dormant buds and from epicormic buds beneath the bark) didn’t exactly enhance the trip. Apparently fires, lit by lightning, rip through the forest every 10 years or so – some engulfing as much 350 000 ha.   40km further on, lying on the opposite side of the Newell highway were a number of sandstone caves that were also of great significance to the local Gamilaroi people.  Here a short (1.7km) walking trial took one along the foot of the sandstone cliff in which the caves, containing rock engravings of various forms, some estimated to be 12 000 years old, are located.

Two of the largest cave entrances or overhangs had been screened off due to vandalism with gaps purposefully left for bats to access. George was quick to notice the signs of animal life (tracks) on the floor of  accessible caves. The number of tail drag marks suggested these are often used by wallabies seeking shade.  At one high point on the walk we had a grand view over the vast southeast expanse of the Pilliga woodlands, the largest remaining stand of native forest in inland NSW. Another worthwhile experience before retracing our steps (50km) “home” to Baradine as the day continued to hot up to 32 degrees C. 

After a leisurely start to the day we drove westwards towards Coonamble through very dry, flat land with mirages floating in the distance telling us temperatures were heating up once more. A further indication of the widespread, rain starved region was the cattle we found grazing in the road reserve. Meagre as it was,  it was the only green grass in sight!

In Coonamble we tossed up whether it was worth going to have a look at the Macquarie marshes a further 50km to the west and decided drought  dictated  against that. Instead, we continued on the Newell Highway and stopped at  Gulargambone Caravan Park that came highly recommended. A small nicely grassed park with an animal area up in one corner containing goats, alpaca, turkeys and chooks ready and waiting to devour any scraps that campers normally discard. The park’s  reputation  also rests upon its delightful and large, fully functional Camp Kitchen. We had missed the season for camp oven roast every Wednesday and Sunday by a week! Happy hour each evening proved too early for us – that is our walking, exploring time!

We were enamoured by the village of Gulargambone that first evening.  Meaning “watering hole for plenty galah birds”, Gulargambone with its population of  350 people determined not to allow its small town to slip any further into decline in 2000; after local government attempted to  shut down their post office. They immediately opened up the first community  owned post office and this led  to numerous  other community initiatives... Having noticed  recreation vehicles  thundering through on the Newell Highway they successfully marketed Gulargambone  as ‘a place to stop’.  Eye catching were 40 large galahs made from recycled corrugated iron by artist Sam Newstead. A number of colourful murals were to be seen on buildings and a recently opened  and impressive steel and re-cycled wire netting sculpture depicting a team of bullocks, entitled Ghosts of Bullocks Past (by artist Brian Campbell) – caught our attention.

 

The big news of the day was the arrival of “the Royals” Down Under  and with a flying visit scheduled into Dubbo next day, many locals had gone through to welcome the Duke and Duchess of  Sussex -  including our Caravan Park owners.  Rain is following us … that night  it stamped across our roof.

Gulargambone was a great place to wander around, relax and do some writing and we decided  to stay another  day – Took the ‘River Walk’ after breakfast - a bird watching trail created along the banks of the Castlereagh River. Admired the “upside down on the telephone wires” galah in the local parkland and learned the inspiration to the poem of  galahs clinging “Upside Down on the Power Lines” began west of Gulargambone while the poet, Doug Storer was waiting for rain!  His sister, Sara Storer tidied it up a bit and added a chorus going on to record a duet with John Williamson  “Raining on the Plains”.  Their song won ‘Single of the Year’ at the Tamworth Country Music Festival in 2004.

The galahs know it’s that time

Upside down on the power lines

Making a family on their minds

Raining on the plains again

As the rain beat down on our caravan that afternoon – our favourite John Williamson CD played the duet - Raining on the Plains  all afternoon!  Click on the link below to hear it.

Raining on the Plains by John Williamson and Sara Storer

Thank you Sacky ...

We returned from our River Walk  happily walking Bourbah Street again. Once  this tiny  rural town hummed with activity. The original hotel is gone… burned down. The original site become a parking area for patrons who frequent the old hotel laundry revitalised as motel rooms and bar. Opposite, the street facades  relayed a tale of past histories  -  a chemist and a haberdashery/gift shop were open while closer to the highway Spar and a Rural shop seemed to be the busiest places with the few comings and goings of customers

 SCENES OF  BOURBAH STREET

Centre piece is  2828 – named after Gulargambone’s postcode, is the old theatre turned into a community centre! Volunteers run the café and  no doubt it becomes the beating heart for important community functions as it is a large space. George’s intentions to have morning tea there fell by the wayside on entering as  it lacked a friendly welcome within the great emptiness. We took a look-around at the historic photos and  handcraft  - decided ‘personality and atmosphere’  was sadly missing and moved on… Once again the sky was threatening rain as far as the eye could see.

In the caravan next to us was Pete and Joey from Portland, Victoria. Pete , a true blue ex farmer and a great conversationalist – reminded Lea of her brother-in-law Keith Bell! Filling up his water tank, he was quick to try and discern Lea’s accent as Rhodesian or South African. Then he was away  chatting on different topics as fast as a grasshopper and, within a short period of time  we learned much. George listening with one ear from within the caravan, of course! Turned out to be one of the few people we’ve ever met that, like us, do not pull out their awning and chairs the moment they stop! However, unlike us, he only goes caravanning to please his wife – he’d rather stay at home!   

By 2.00 pm there was a thunderstorm, the glorious sound of thunder reverberated around the skies above us, before rain pelleted down on our roof –  who were we to complain, when the countryside cries out for any moisture. It was ‘raining on the plains’  and washing out Prince Harry’s ‘drought speech’ in Dubbo.

Sometime. around now, an itch developed on Lea’s collar bone. Thinking it may be one of her many little moles feeling irritated she tried not to rub it. The itch persisted with a slight swelling  around the loose ‘mole’ and George was asked to check it out. He pronounced it to be a pepper tick! In turn, it was promptly doused in eucalypt oil or sprayed with  Tea Tree oil with regularity until it fell off. Where had Lea collected her tick and whether it was a one off was the query… A couple of days later others became visible in the crease of her elbow  and on her trunk. Ten days of irritated itching followed. Horrors…we could only think she had collected the blighters on the Pilliga Forest walk. Yet there had been no off path walking, no long grass, no sitting on the ground in areas frequented by  kangaroos or cattle.  George remained clear!

Low puffy layers of stratocumulus  surrounded us as we hit the road for the Cooee town of Gilgandra – would we be able to get through our morning drive on the highway without being engulfed in rain – we hoped so, as this was a road- train route.   Yes, we reached the tiny little place Eumungerie with a large Recreation Reserve, about 30 km  south of Gilgandra in time for elevenses. Camping available between the cricket field and the tennis courts – powered sites $10.  The only restriction asked, as questionable as it sounded, was not to dispose of grey water near the large trees growing in the camp ground – someone (the council) was of the opinion it may kill them! Overhead, blue sky  banked up with a mixture of fluffy white, grey and  deeper grey clouds continued to buffet around us with promises… We took a good evening walk round this very small town - Pleasant little spot for a night with a hotel known for serving up a good roast on a Friday night at “The Drover’s dog”. 

 Ancient gunner practising the laying of a 25 pounder outside Eumungerie RSL

Once again,  we were struck by the number of  old cars, bits of junk and disused machinery that lay rusting away in people’s backyards. An absolute eyesore in many cases. Land rendered useless with owners seemingly unable to lift a finger and solve the massive build up problem. Such disarray kept for spares? We hardly think so.  ‘Metal junk’ on our minds – days later, we noticed a company sign prepared to visit country areas and buy  scrap metals.  

As tempted as we were to stay on for the big roast in Eumungerie, we had  run out of fresh provisions, TV reception was poor and limited  – especially when much was happening over the weekend (Wentworth by-election and opening of Invictus Games) we pushed on to Narromine. Our Gularambone neighbour,  talkative Pete, had mentioned an Aviation Museum there  and George was drawn.

Sometimes, everything  falls into place beautifully!  We spotted directions to a  caravan park and it turned out to be  100m away from the aviation museum and the Narromine aerodrome  (one of the world’s premier gliding destinations). We were given the last powered site - a drive through site, to boot. Totally to our liking, in a small but very  busy park attached to a motel  with very helpful owners -Terry and Jaz. Only on hearing the Narromine Aerodrome was hosting an Open Day with pilots flying in from all over the country  from Di – the co-pilot in the little tent under a tree not far from our site, did we realise we had landed in the ‘pound seats’.  Friday morning and the airfield already  covered with light aircraft parked up (130 expected). 

A row of tail draggers included!!

In the Narromine  visitors brochure there was an iris farm just outside the town. After lunch we drove into town and replenished our food supplies before heading off to  find  ‘Villa Nova’ – we followed the signs behind a barn  expecting o be met with a field of purple (or perhaps yellow) iris – only to be blown away by a multitude of the most extraordinary colours and varieties of irises on show. We were the only people there as we  oohed and exclaimed at every  row.  A short time later the owners appeared  and we were fortunate be given a conducted tour by the wife along with a potted history of how the former bull ring  became a new business for this couple. The work that had gone into developing the farm; each ‘bearded Iris cross-pollinated by hand; and how the rhizomes are sold, largely by mail order.    The story behind the magnificent Polonia tree setting off the field of iris with a lovely shaded picnic area developed to encourage visitors to bring their lunch and simply enjoy the flowering season for iris from mid-September  to November.  We came to honour Justine’s memory on an Iris farm  and found  ‘In Remembrance’ and ‘Holly’ side by side.  Signs from heaven! 

Towards evening  we strolled over to the aerodrome to have a look at the planes  tie down across the fields between runways. Out in the setting sun on a calm and glorious evening it was thirsty work. We retired to the club house with an icy draught beer just as two Pitts Specials revved up in front of us. Shortly taking  to the sky. With  perfect seats  to ease neck strain we  watched a wonderful display of aerial acrobatics performed by a number of barn-storming pilots   as they screamed upwards vertically until stalling; allowed the plane to drop and restart on the way down; flying upside down at low level, leaving trails of smoke behind them, to rise and loop the loop; The golden glow of sunset catching the glinting selection of planes provided a memorable air-show second to none! Such atmospheric bliss  we stayed on for a meal at the Aero Club  as ‘Grandpa Rock’ delivered  live music from the 1960s. Alan and his partner Di were in the tent near our rig. In the order of his life priorities - according to Di  was Alan’s plane, then two electric guitars and finally his co-pilot! Alan - a recently recovered Tonsil Cancer survivor; wore his music- making pink suit with white shoes to raise money for the Cancer Council of Australia. We were two very happy campers…

Before the crowds arrived Saturday morning we popped  over to visit the Narromine Aviation Museum (free entry for the day) to follow events associated with its past and the many famous characters that had used these landing fields.  Stories about the WW2 veterans trained at Narromine, the Mosquito bomber men of the RAAF’s 618 squadron; artefacts and photographs from the war included a bit of fabric taken from the Red Baron’s plane after he had been shot down and, most interesting of all, the locally built ‘Narromine Wright Flyer A – the world’s first flyable replica of its iconic 1907 ancestor.

 

With the aid of a government grant and the help of aeronautical engineers this  Wright flyer was built from a few surviving sketches of the aircraft by the Hayden family in 1999, and flown for a few hundred metres at the Narromine airstrip in Oct 2005. An old film clip added reality to the story.

The day was overshadowed by the knowledge little Holly’s funeral was being held in Perth. Accordingly, in her memory we returned to our caravan and  at 2.00pm,  we lit our candle of remembrance set next to some unusual mottled red roses we’d picked from the garden alongside us;  to coincided with 11.00 am Perth. In farewell to Holly – we waved white tissues. Three little Rutter children used to look for the fluttering white hankies amongst the crowds on many a departure from Zimbabwe. So often that a ‘white hankie’ became a very personal, loving family tradition. 

  

Weather was not as balmy as the previous night – food stalls  had either sold out or were over-crowded so we stayed-in for dinner. Quietly watched the opening ceremony of the Invictus Games taking place outside the Sydney Opera House, along with unfolding events in Wentworth as Liberals finally lost their seat of 44 years to an Independent, sending a clear message to the Morrison government - people were disillusioned and unhappy.

Waking to clear blue skies , Narromine airstrip and caravan park rapidly emptied Sunday morning. We decided to do the same, before noticing Alan and Di  had struck camp and their gear lay in a large pile for transportation to their plane. We helped them carry it over as Di was struggling with Meniere’s – excessive build-up of  fluid in the inner ear. Thereafter, we were on our way, bypassing Dubbo,  towards Wellington where 10km before the town, Camps Australia  indicated a free camp in the Ponto Falls Reserve. The moment we arrived at Ponto we realised we’d hit the jackpot.  Later, we were to see it correctly described as one of Wellington’s best kept secrets!

Stretched out along the floodplain of the Macquarie River we found a large number of sites positioned among huge river gums, very few people present, birds aplenty (including dollar birds), the tranquil river below gleaming with the reflections of the willows and gums lining its banks. Peaceful and picture perfect – especially when a herd of black cows came ambling past the front door stopping to graze here and there; while calves gambolled about,  kicking up their back legs in joy.

Our evening walk along the river had us notice a wagtail constantly harassing a kookaburra. Turned out the Waggy had a nest concealed in the leaves close to where the kookie had perched. We also noted wagtails accompanying the cattle  like egrets do, waiting for any insects disturbed by their movements.

We were keen to stay another night in this idyllic spot  yet the day dawned bringing a likelihood of rain and we decided to move on to Lake Burrendong in readiness for Chris Jones’ arrival Tuesday. We needed fresh fruit and veg from Wellington for hosting Chris – who was driving up from Killcare, Central Coast  to spend a few days with us. He had booked a cabin well ahead of time while we needed to secure a campsite at Lake Burrendong, the chosen rendezvous point. Plenty of camp sites - All was well, other than the receptionist said there was no reservation for Chris. Turned out she thought George was talking about a reservation made for a powered site instead of a cabin! 

We last camped at Lake Burrendong over 7 years ago (June 2011). Either, we had forgotten or were not as fussy back then …  to discover a  very poor selection of uneven powered sites available, most with virtually no view of the lake. Never mind the lake was at a very low level due to the drought. Nevertheless we chanced to take a site opposite the cabin Chris had reserved and took it upon ourselves to park side on  since the area was empty of fellow caravanners. We kept hoping the only prime positioned site with lake view would be vacated by the campervan  and we would happily install ourselves there. Although it wasn’t to be - Cabin 5 with Chris was to give us a superior view and cool evening setting. 

                        Burrendong -  June 2011           

                  Burrendong Oct 2018  (note: the island with three small trees in the 2011 image, is now part of mainland)

Good weather prevailed and we speedily did all our laundry, bed linen included come Tuesday morning. Making use of electricity, Lea busily baked a carrot cake and used up yoghurt in a French recipe, Yoghurt Cake - just to push the limits. Both looked good until they were turned out  and a raw base materialised. Either the convection oven  or the silicone loaf pan did not allow for an even  spread of heat. Lea turned the cakes back into their pans upside down and recooked them. They may not have looked professional but in the end, they were edible and tasty. Brother-in-law Chris  arrived mid-afternoon for tea and cake, after a six hour journey from the coast, up over the Great Dividing Range.

We cooked a caravan pork roast dinner and served it over in Chris’ cabin with a full moon rising over the lake and a mob of kangaroos grazing on the lawns below us. Conversations followed events of the past year that had so deeply affected us as a family. 

Early next morning George and Chris took a walk through the 164ha Burrendong Botanic Gardens and Arboretum. George  was curious to see how it had fared in the drought. Masses of kangaroos everywhere were a treat to see but the canopy clad “fern gully”, the showpiece of the gardens, looked sadly neglected. They were back by 9.00, ready for breakfast – then, in Chris’s car, we all drove down to the dam wall – a massive, 1.2km long rip rap clad structure, before driving down to the outlets, below the wall. This 18 000 acre dam, now at a very low level was opened in 1967 for the purpose of “irrigation, conservation and flood mitigation”. The 250 ft high wall impounding run-off from a 5 360 sq ml. catchment.

A lazy afternoon followed before we retired to the cooler cabin balcony for sundowners. George cooked up a barbeque  with sadza  before the leisurely day came to an end.

A ‘cooked breakfast’ laid on for Chris’s benefit in view of his long road homeward bound journey – we were all quick to pack up and depart for the first fuel depot coming into Wellington, as Chris was running very low. He followed us back to the Ponto Falls Reserve, to have a look at the river  and a quick cuppa before hitting the road home, via Gulgong and the Hunter Valley.

Our previous site had been taken  and we happily settled in another, for the next two nights. A Sulphur crested Cockatoo was upset to have us park below its branch and at odd times during the night would let out a blood curdling shriek or three.  The Black Angus cattle would gather  around  the rig and  give it a bump on many occasion. The calves curiously peer in our door at us. George took out his sketch book and practiced a few drawings.

The variety of October cloud formations reignited interest in cloud spotting. Out came Gavin Pretor-Pinney’s The Cloudspotter’s Guide and in the tranquillity of Ponto Falls Reserve,  George began classifying all the photos he has taken of clouds over the years.  Clouds are classified  according to a Latin  ‘Linnean’  system much like the one used  for plants and animals  so this was right up  the scientist’s alley!

Back through Wellington and out to Yeoval, on the Parkes road- we stopped at Australia Camps ticked site, Yeoval Showgrounds, for the next two nights.  Definitely the best ablution block we have encountered for a very long time!  Yeoval  is the childhood home of A B “Banjo” Paterson. We have travelled this way before, from the opposite direction  with the intention of  visiting Banjo Paterson Bush Park. However, a lot was happening there at the time – crowded out with bikes and people that it wasn’t safe to stop and we had moved on. This visit, we walked Banjo Paterson Bush Park; wandered along “Banjo’s” beloved Buckinbah Creek and, spent some hours in the Banjo Paterson Exhibition/Museum. The welcoming couple working the café/museum are two very busy people with their dog Jack. One could almost believe they were Mr and Mrs ‘Yeoval’  as they had  collected fees at the showground and, as we were to learn - drove the school bus; cut the town grass;  cleaned ablution blocks for the Field Day in Borendore  and yet had time to ensure every visitor stopping in town was well looked after. They were a delight.  

Helen Haynes  drove out from Orange for Sunday afternoon tea with us. Her husband and son were taking delivery of a new bull. Always good to catch up with our Australian friend from our first visit to Australia in 1994/5.  Their 4 sons had gone through King’s school  and two were with Leecy and John in Forrest House when we first visited. Haigh’s arranged the farm visit with the Haynes family.  We have kept in touch with them over the years and last met up in Orange, 2011 - where Helen and Stewart had retired. Third son Jock, runs Mount View Farm at Kerr’s Creek and Stewart helps where ever he can.

After Yeoval, we moved on to Cumnock with eyes seeking out  ‘Animals on Bikes’!  120km  of paddock sculptures  to be found along  the charming Banjo Paterson Way that is so classically Australian bush in our minds-  Out here, two of Banjo’s books “Mulga Bill”  and  “The Animals Noah forgot” must  have been the inspiration for bikes and animals!  Since we last tracked through here, more have been added… Cumnock Showgrounds proved to be another quiet and trusting showground in a lovely setting and we spent a night there before returning to the General Store to pay our fee and found this sculpture waiting to be photographed.

We moved on to  Manildra Showgrounds. Here, we were warmly greeted by caretakers Alan and Hazel who settled us on a site that met our complete  approval, for two nights.

Leaving ‘Getaway’ – SKV took us 20 kms  eastwards to Molong where we’d arranged to meet up with Helen in the RSL  on the last day of October. She’d completed an early morning class at the local high school.  With Armistice Day coming up, Helen was preparing another generation  for the 11th November - Lest We forget.  Helen  showed us  over the  Portrait Gallery.  Molong  District's wonderful collection of  servicemen and women’s portraits  painted by Anne Marie Ingham in her 70's 'in gratitude for the sacrifices of servicemen and women of the district'. She had produced over fifty portraits as her way of saying thank you. A local touch to posterity with deep meaning. Sadly, as we stood enjoying the gallery and the stories behind each person,  the Chairman arrived and broke the news the last remaining soldier had died late yesterday, aged 94.  

We adjourned to an old fashioned sweetie shop  with American diner styled tea room for a cup of coffee  in town - before taking  the road out to Euchareena. The Haynes boys had attended junior school here.  It was a veritable history lesson  for Lea riding up with Helen, through picturesque scenery. George followed in SKV. We stopped at 'Villa Springs' - a recently acquired section of land  adjoining their farm to see the renovations being undertaken on old shearer's cottages. Thereafter, to Mount View Farm out at historic Kerr’s Creek  to catch up with Stewart and Jock  over lunch. They had completed their  3 day sheep ‘crutching’ program. All 4,000 plus sheep were back on the land so we missed out on seeing the 'bum cleaning'.

'Mount View' with Stewart and Helen