Thursday, November 29, 2018

Tramping tales for November 2018



For the first two weeks of November we meandered the Mid-West of New South Wales. Chose place names that tickled our fancy, caught our eye or chose to stay because it offered showground camping…  names we learned to roll off our tongues for a while - Manildra, Canowindra, Grenfell, Gooloogong, Temora, Ariah Park, Coolamon, Lockhart, Walbundrie, Burrumbuttock..

On the first of the month as we pulled out of Manildra showgrounds - Al, the caretaker, gave George a pair of khaki shorts from the Op Shop that had proved too tight for him. Later when George unfolded them we found a Jesus-like print on the back and a fit of hysterics followed! They fitted perfectly - so Jesus shorts they became!


In Canowindra we walked the “crooked street” in the town centre before going to the Information Centre where the Age of Fishes Museum was housed. George paid and went in to enjoy “a truly remarkable” exhibition of fish fossils, much older than dinosaurs, that all began in 1955 when a slab of rock was dug up by a bulldozer operator building a road 10 km out of town. It was reported to the Sydney Museum and “the rest is history” as they say … Over the next 30-40 years, above 200 slabs of rock were uncovered and with the aid of local volunteers - all only too happy to chip away at the slabs of rock under the guidance of expert palaeontologists, 3 700 fish fossils of eight different types from the Devonian era (i.e. 360 million years ago) were found.  The area proved to be one of the richest fish fossil sites in the world, with examples of numerous heavily armoured species and rare primitive, air-breathing, lobe-finned species. One of these large air breathing fish from the Canowindra Fish Bed (Mandageria fairfaxi), unique to the site, 1.7m long, was nominated as the state of NSW’s fossil emblem. Thousands more specimens remain buried at the site awaiting funding for continued excavation and scientific study. 

 


So what happened 360 million years ago for so many fish to have died at the same spot? Well, as in Africa where catfish for example, often get isolated in pans that become cut off from large river systems as flows recede. The billabongs of Australia become invaded by thousands of fish in the wet season and trapped there in the dry. Without any scavengers in existence, 360m years ago, the soft parts of stranded fish remained intact, dried out, and became covered by layers and layers of sand brought in by subsequent floods. In time their remains were cemented together into what became a hard sandstone rock leaving exact impressions of their former shape (i.e. the fossils of today). 
 
Outside the museum there was also a very good series of world maps showing the relative position of Australia (and other continents) on the Earth’s surface over the past 650 million years (i.e from late Proterozoic times to the Cenozoic era). A marvellous depiction of plate tectonics and its over-riding, all important influence on the flora and fauna of the planet as we know it today.  Spurred on by the knowledge that one of the fish fossils bore the name Gooloogongia loomesi we drove onto the village of Gooloogong (SW of Canowindra) as George regaled Lea with all he had seen. We settled into the tiny Maisie Thompson Camping Ground of Gooloogong with a strong wind, originating inland, making things unpleasantly warm. A heat wave forecast to last several days. 

The hot wind blowing from inland had not let up for a second overnight. Lea was nervous about taking to the rural roads yet George insisted we had known worse. As we drove in a westerly direction towards Grenfell (the birth place of famous poet Henry Lawson) the atmosphere surrounding us was laden with dust – whirligig breezes to be seen picking up the dry dirt on empty fields – they whipped upwards into pink tinged skies and created a mystical haze around us. George was keen to stop in Grenfell and see an exhibition of wildlife paintings at a local art gallery.  We entered the Visitors Centre to enquire and discovered the wildlife exhibition had ended. In its place, with the centenary of Armistice Day coming up 11th November 2018, an exhibition ‘Poppies for Remembrance’ presented by the Grenfell Garden Club was underway.


Equally impressive was this massive quilt on a gallery wall depicting the colourful history of Grenfell. It had taken local seamstresses and volunteers, working with four old sewing machines picked up on an auction, seven years to complete.

We’d been advised to walk the main street of Grenfell –  we did. All the shop windows were fittingly decked out with an Armistice theme and ablaze with poppies made by preschool children of the district.  Not quite sure where to  head to next, with the rig continuing to be buffeted by strong wind gusts we set off once more into the pinky-brown dust laden skies , stopping every now and again to check our whereabouts on the map.


We travelled 150km that day before we came to a rest in the Temora showgrounds. An uninviting looking place especially in a howling wind. The temperature decidedly hot with dust swirling everywhere but at $15 a powered site for the night – neighbours well scattered, it was good enough to meet our immediate needs. By mid-afternoon a thunderstorm developed over Temora and the rain cleared the air and brought an end to the violent wind.

Lea wasn’t keen to shower amidst lonely buildings. George offered to sit guard close by!  While he waited, he was able to observe interesting cloud formations develop as a result of the storm;   a kestrel nesting in a hole of a ceiling, in the main building and, a swallow entering and exiting often, from ladies ablution block – Was it nesting in there?  It was! Two mud nest in the far corner above a toilet … That very evening the following email arrived

Hello George and Lea, Glad you’ve arrived in Grenfell and have visited the Poppy Display that looks fantastic.
How do we know do? Just saw you, Lea on our local Prime 7 News. Sorry no sight of you George.
Think if there were nominations for ‘Tourist of the Year’, we’d be nominating you both.  You really contribute to our small communities. Love, Helen

While George had collected a map of the area Lea had slipped into the gallery. There had been a photographer focused on a picture but neither of us had picked up on a TV crew at the exhibition!

Early morning we awoke to the uniform sound of horses trotting … The showground centred onto a large trotting track used for harness racing. The sight of horses pulling small carts (sulkies) is not something we see often. We decided on a “stay put day”. George unhitched the van and we went into town to have a look around and do a bit of grocery shopping. George noticed the Temora Aviation Museum was close by. After lunch, he popped along to take a look-see and came away very impressed with its exceptional display of aircraft from WW2 – all of which are flyable and maintained there. Every two years they put on Australia’s premier air show – “Warbirds Down-Under”.


Supermarine Spitfire MK VIII

A 1920’s heritage listed village Ariah Park caught our attention during our visit to the Temora Information Centre. After a late Sunday morning start, we’d soon covered the 35 km to Ariah Park  and set up in the well kept Mary Gilmore Campground … all in the hopes of luring travellers to take a ‘dogs leg’ into this village.  By midday, we were ready to make our acquaintance with the Wowsers, the Bowsers and the Peppercorn trees of Ariah Park.  The main street beautifully renovated to preserve the central avenue of lovely old peppercorn trees.




Vintage petrol bowsers to be found along the pavement and Ads from the past painted across side walls.

It was a Sunday … yet atmosphere was sadly lacking. Little sign of life. Shop fronts full of antiques and collectables – rather sad! We had planned to find the wowsers hanging out in the Hotel garden and join them for a chilled beer. We’d been advised the hotelier was the fee collector and keeper of the keys to the power box and showers at the campground. Instead we found a dingy and darkened pub that did nothing to encourage us to stick around – even with a thirst! 

At the far end – a sculpture of a highly respected wheat lumper, Michael William Murphy (aka ‘Tas’) left a lasting impression. Extracts from the many poems he wrote – involved the nature of his work; carrying heavy bags of wheat up a 22 bag stack (sometimes as many as 1500 a day) without an elevator. In the Temora showgrounds we happened to have been within earshot of a modern day grain depot with its huge silos being filled mechanically … so we fully empathised with his words …

But I’ll lump no more the heavy bags
Up a big man-killing stack
Or work no more in my broken rags
With a pain in my tired back;
I’ll tell the agents to keep their wheat,
No matter how rude I seem,
For I saw the work could be made a treat,
In a tired lumper’s dream.


Tas Murphy (1887 -1937) the wheat lumper.

Coolamon - a nicely grassed, fully equipped municipal caravan park in easy walking distance of another well-kept main street was our next stop as we needed a laundry. We were hasty in seeing to our washing as a layer of thick clouds overhead seemed likely to bring rain before the day was out.  All stayed well under control  with rain holding off long enough for our washing to be folded away; give us  a walk through town and pop into the tiniest little Fire Station Museum packed with memorabilia from all over the world.




In the early hours of morning, rumbles of thunder announced the arrival of more rain and throughout the day the grey mass of stratus clouds brought regular showers. Coolamon received 40mm of rain that day. The rain induced us to stay put, and given the drought stricken state of surrounding farmlands we could not complain. There was thick mist and downpours in Victoria, where thousands of racegoers descended on Flemington race track for the ‘Melbourne Cup’ – a race that stops the Nation - Australia’s most prestigious race.  It all cleared timeously for The Big Race at 3.00. We watched it all on TV having chosen three horses each,  for our own little pot of silver. Neither of us gathered up the ‘riches’ with even a placing!

Yet another day followed with rain falling and by now the weather had turned cold too. We decided to move on … with Lea distracted by the beautiful hedge rows of small red roses we – missed the turn off to Lockhart, the next little town on the map  heading in the right direction for us!  Rain, traffic heading to Wagga Wagga and no place to consider turning we were given no alternative to by-pass it. We crossed the massive bridge striding the Murrumbidgee River   before realising we had missed the turn to Collingullie on the north bank. Fortunately a roundabout on the outskirts of Wagga Wagga allowed us to back track. Finally out on the lonely roads we love best; we were again to take a wrong turning – thus, we probably trebled the mileage we’d sought to do that day.  Everything comes in three! 

We were glad to reach Lockhart Caravan Park and warm up with hot soup and a toasted sandwich. Even had rugs over our legs in readiness to see what was happening with the USA Mid Term elections on TV.  No reception … Once we felt warmed up and rested – we donned our coats   prepared to brave the cold and “take to the streets” of Lockhart – classified as The Verandah Town by the National Trust.

We quickly realised that Lockhart was a town that, had we known of its sculpture and heritage trail – we would, under any circumstances, have come a long way to see! Although, unexpectedly coming across these places is all the more magical as we come with no expectations! Pablo Picasso is noted for saying “The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls” – a lot of truth there. Lockhart’s old world charm; farm sculptures on display throughout the town created from recycled metal, corrugated iron and farm materials were made during the worst drought in recorded history. More specifically, the “Spirit of the Land Project”  driven by members of the community when a local farming family, financially and emotionally devastated by the drought began creating art from rolled up balls of rusty barbed wire and scraps of metal. Their artwork proved so successful it not only revived community spirit it attracted tourists and art buyers from all over the country into the town.  Recycled sculptures Competitions are regularly held and Lockhart buys winners to increase their collection too.  

    Bonnie Dog (by Stuart Taylor)

In an effort to celebrate the resilience of those that live and work on the land, The Pastoral Shadows of Brookong Project was designed and developed by the District Progress Association. It lies at the eastern entrance to the town and has similar impact as visitors  ‘glimpse’ a life long gone, when the area was a huge sheep station … It was a most beautiful walk through history across a piece of land.  Numerous silhouettes, made largely from corrugated iron, laid out along a short walking track through natural bushland. Each designed to reflect the lives of the men that worked in the 1880’s on the massive Brookong Station that stretched all the way from Collingullie to Urana (in the west) as shearers, shed hands, roustabouts, stockmen, drovers and the inevitable men out of work known as “swaggies”. Such detail – our imaginative minds hummed in sight, sound and smell.  

  

     A Drover’s Life
(sculpture and poem by Stuart Spragg)

It is little I care for earth’s kings
Its Emperors, sultans and tzars
As I lie in the darkness and dream
All alone with my sheep and the stars

By evening it was so cold we needed the heater (air con) to warm up the van. By dawn  there was bright sunlight and as there were a few more sculptures to see (such as the Rain Dragon below) we took a walk in another direction to see them. 


    The Rain Dragon (by Andrew Whitehead)

Returning to our rig in the caravan park set behind the Greens Gunyah Museum, we decided to satisfy our curiosity about the much acclaimed Doris Golder Wool Art Gallery. housed within.  Woollen scarves wrapped around the trees at the entrance focused us in a direction of expectation…  In short, Doris Golder’s work was simply astounding!

Local artist Doris Golder (now aged 93) resides in Lockhart and her incredible array of portraits and pictures made from natural wool – the only artwork of its kind in Australia is on  permanent display in the museum and ‘On loan’ from her family. Portraits of well-known celebrities, pictures of dogs, sheep and koalas; the story of her life and description of the method used to create her artworks, each depicted in such incredible detail that it came as no surprise to learn each image took months to patiently produce. A process “more painful than giving childbirth” she once said. Nor was it surprising to find that in 2016 Doris was awarded the OAM for her contribution to Australian Art.  Much to George’s disappointment photos of her work were not permitted – the most extraordinary artwork we have ever seen can only be translated by a postcard and that does no justice! Think three dimensional – fine hair by fine hair painstakingly built up using the natural colours of sheep wool to create the shading of a portrait that is so realistic you swear it is a photograph.


A quick visit turned in a couple of hours with ease. Mona, the volunteer manning the desk added to our visit with her nuggets of information and explanations. Elsewhere, the museum was packed with historical accounts of the shearer’s strike in 1888 (that eventually led to the formation of the ALP), vintage machinery and memorabilia of all sorts – one of the most impressive being the fully functional 1902 cash and change system used in a local store (reminded us of a slightly more modern equivalent used in Sander’s while growing up in Rhodesia in the early 50’s.  The horrifying Thomas Double Splint used for polio victims in the 40’s when polio was rife brought to mind those parents who refuse to vaccinate their children today. They have absolutely no idea of those terrors we lived through back then.

Midday, we headed for Walbundrie where we made ourselves at home in the Showground-cum-Football ground. Not a soul in sight, nor any notices about who and how much to pay. A text message came in from Cynthia Fuller asking where we are.  We told her we were coming up to the NSW/ Victorian border and planned to camp at the Wodonga Showgrounds next day.

Cynthia and Lat Fuller (from Perth) were on their way to Brisbane driving their employer’s rig – a large 5th wheeler. Unbelievably our paths were converging…We agreed to park up together in Wodonga. All too easy.  However, on our arrival we found a Celtic Festival had taken over the showground with no sites available. We rapidly made an arrangement to meet in a Beechworth caravan park. Yet again, we were thwarted as on our arrival, we discovered two music Festivals had every caravan park anywhere near - fully booked out months ago. Hearts dropped as we rapidly phoned the Fuller’s to see where they were. They had just passed Glenrowan.  Halt!  she cried.

Lea called the Glenrowan caravan park and thankfully two drive-through sites were available. The day had taken a toll on us with no food or fluid since a light and early breakfast followed by unduly long and difficult roads through the mountains. Consequently, it wasn’t until well into the afternoon our paths finally crossed.  Somewhat appropriately, at Australian classic Ned Kelly’s ‘Last Stand’!


Short and sweet Glenrowan reunion. Lea and Cynthia were at Teacher’s College together and their friendship cemented doing their Final Teaching Practice together in Macheke.

Next day we headed back along all too familiar roads to Happy Valley outside Myrtleford to stay with Scott and Sue Lebish on their small-holding. We found Scott dutifully mowing our camping spot outside his shed. No sooner had we arrived than Jack, a new  pup when we were last there unexpectedly came and leant very heavily against Lea’s legs before collapsing at her feet. All so sudden – immediate thoughts were snake bite before George decided the kelpie – showed signs of an epileptic fit.  A sense of panic subsided when 10 minutes later Jack was - running around as if nothing had happened!

A very relaxed and happy two weeks were spent in the Alpine region of Victoria with Scott and Sue.  Their son, Nick popped by often- usually to collect his deer hunting rig built on the back of an old Land Cruiser – He and a hunting partner were making  good income (over and above his day job building houses) from deer culling on a number of farms and selling the carcasses to a dog meat manufacturer.  The rig comprised an elaborate winch to lift the deer with; thermal imaging telescopic sights on a .300 Remington rifle; powerful torches; dispensers for disinfecting knives and hand washing; a series of hooks on which to hang the carcasses in the back of the truck and at Scott’s place a cool-room (running at 3C) to store them. Nick’s business going under the name of Quality Deer Control (QDC).


The physical energy expended by long days on building sites followed by deer hunting well into the early hours of morning amazed us. We’d peer into the mobile cooler room to see results… four Sambar deer, covered in long, dark hair in one night sometimes nothing.


Overlooking the Lebish homestead.

George accompanied Scott up the mountain behind us in search for a fox that kept skulking around their chicken pens.  Using a whistle that sounds like an injured rabbit to call it up but the wily fox laid low.  We were to enjoy helping where we could around the smallholding.

Becky arrived home for a few days to see us. She completes her second year at the varsity in Geelong studying forensic science. Having taken a gap year after school in 2016 she had gone out to Zambia and worked as a volunteer at Chimfunshi. Twenty years previously we had spent a week working with rescued baby chimps in this wonderful Chimpanzee Rehabilitation Sanctuary run by Sheila Siddle. We so enjoyed catching up on improved developments there through Bek’s photos and listening to her stories of Chimfunshi.  We were able to share our video and relive our heart-warming visit of 1996.

Great excitement on the 12 November when George suddenly noticed an unusual phenomena in the sky soon after midday. He rushed back to get his camera and delightedly captured a photograph of a relatively brief appearance of an iridescent “sun-dog” formed from the reflection of light off ice crystals in the cirrocumulus clouds overhead. A rare sighting indeed and we had never hear of these let alone seen one. Thanks to George returning to The Cloudspotter’s Guide by Gavin Pretor-Pinney - his eyes constantly scan the sky and, he was able to recognise the very unusual colouring sighted in a cloud.


Yesterday’s sundog had been a warning in advance of an impending change in the weather.

We spent a morning in the lovely alpine village of Bright. We took SKV to have a 4WD specialist Scott and Nick’s recommended to advise us on improving the balance between our truck and caravan – by installing heavier springs. We left the truck in the workshop and set off with Scott, who had accompanied us in his own truck, to see the view from the paragliders launch site above Bright; buy fresh apples from an orchard near Wandiligong, and for enjoy coffee down by the Ovens River running through Bright.

Another day, Sue and Scott took us on a day long wander into the NE Victoria countryside – first seeing a recently completed Silo Art Project in Goorambat.  Artist Jimmy DVate took over a month to complete the paintings on the silos at Goorambat - a tiny, near derelict settlement, hidden away in the midst of the NE Victorian wheatbelt. The Barking Owl (or Millibai – meaning ‘winking owl’ in the local Aboriginal dialect) is regarded as an endangered species in Victoria; and on another silo – its habitat - an ironbark tree, the hollows in which are used as nest sites by Barking Owls, as well as sheltering its prey.


Inside a miniscule old Methodist church taken over by United Church we were in for another surprise – a mural on the back wall of ‘Sophia of Goorambat’ by street artist Matt Adnate.  His depiction of her eyes, so captivating, it was remarkable.

We moved on to Winton Wetlands – Sue sits on the Winton Wetlands Committee of Management and knew George would be interested in the site and its background. The story of the Winton Wetlands (aka the Mokoan Swamp) in the catchment of the Broken River is a long one –  aided by the cultural history of the district; the dispossession of land; changing bureaucratic decisions (politicians playing games); social upheaval and now, 40 years after knowingly ruining what was a highly functional wetland by damming it - the Victorian Government and private enterprise are now trying to bring it back to life (at a cost of $57 million) by tackling the so-called “largest wetland restoration project in the southern hemisphere”. 


Without going into too much detail the first nail was driven into in the coffin of the Mokoan Swamp in 1969 when construction began of a 7.5km long (10m high) earth wall across its outlet. The purpose of the dam thus created was to provide 16 giga-litres of water per year for irrigation and assist in flood mitigation downstream. Needless to say, not only was the entire swamp system inundated, itself characterised by over 5 000ha of red river gums and white box trees, but numerous farmlands, homesteads and the tiny settlement of Winton North, all adjoining the wetland, were also flooded. By 1975, the dam was at its full supply level, holding 365 mega-litres of water, and had turned into a popular playground for duck hunting, fishing, boating and sailing but ten years later, after a drought in 1982-83, was down to 5% of its capacity and experiencing exceptionally high losses of water due to evaporation. For the following fifteen years (1985-2000) it also became increasingly prone to outbreaks of blue-green algae.  Driven by the need to put water back into the Snowy River all this eventually lead to the State Government’s decision in 2004 to decommission the dam, to breach the wall and allow it to drain – leaving behind little more than a giant graveyard of dead trees with little appeal to anyone other than the local Yorta Yorta people who were able to reconnect with the land they had effectively lost over a century beforehand.
 

      Boggy bridge fish trees – clever!

Today, after the development of a Master Plan with its focus on education, research, tourism, recreation and community development, the Winton Wetlands Committee of Management hope to improve the “ecological functioning” of what remains of the wetland; allow natural wetting and drying of the landscape to continue unimpeded and under the watch of a small project team hope that the system’s inherent resilience will gradually dictate is own way forward.

 It will be no mean task given the length of time the healing process is likely to take.  It also led to a restless night for George ‘thinking’ as his mind returned to professional work mode. He was only able to clear his mind after he had drafted ideas onto paper about Winton Wetlands project! Sue’s work also involves another Alpine Committee involved in the strategic planning of Ski resources. Predominantly working from home she often attends meeting up at Falls Creek and Mt Hotham as well as down in Melbourne. All too easy for her to become time-poor around the property and we delighted in trying to complete a mosaic for her.  Sue’s unfinished bird bath was bugging Scott.  We all landed up working on it until we ran out of grouting… George also painted two local Jacky Dragons using acrylics on the concrete stand the bird bath rests on. 

Our last Monday with them had George drop off SKV early in Bright for the installation of heavier (450kg) springs to be fitted at back carrying the weight of Getaway. He was given a courtesy car for the duration of the job.  A couple of hours later we were totally thrown when Joel phoned to say the supplier had sent him the wrong springs! As a result he’d had to put everything back again, at no charge, and we’d have to get the job done in Tasmania! Back to square one.

Our last day had Lea and Sue busy digging up saffron and garlic bulbs while George cleared out the chook pen and spread the manure in the veggie beds ready for the summer sowing. When Lea returned the trailer to the shed she was horrified to see the white belly of a snake twisting around to escape behind the trailer’s parking spot. No sighting of head or tail indicating a large size as she leapt back and nervously looked to see where it had escaped to. A bout of mowing and more weeding behind the barbeque shed followed as this was just too close to the house for comfort. We were all rather twitchy. A blue tongue Lizard the only creature to waddle out during operations but not what Lea had seen earlier.




Days easily ran into each other and then we were at the end… farewell time.Rain began falling during the early hours of the morning prior to our departure. Fortunately it paused to enable George to hitch up as we prepared to “hit the road” once more, making our way Melbourne. Once we reached the Hume highway the rain cleared for a few hours enabling us to take a lunch break in Euroa and see the memorial dedicated to three soldiers from this farming area – each awarded a Victoria Cross during WW1.

Burton, Tubb and Maynard.

Returning to the rig, George noticed the Anderson plug had dropped off somewhere along route and broken as it dragged along.  He had a spare and was able to replace it beside the road, without any great difficulty.  After our lunch we continued on to Seymour to visit the Vietnam Veterans Commemorative Walk – a long unusual wall, similar to that, we’d seen in Washington USA. The interesting feature of this wall was the digiglass. From up close, the names of the 60,267 Australian personnel and 11 tracker dogs who all served in South Vietnam. (A couple of Begg’s and a Howman amongst the long list of names) Standing back, allowed for photographic images of scenes within the combat zones, embedded behind the names, to be seen.




Our planned Nagambie night camp alongside the Goulburn Valley highway   ended up being on the wrong side of the Freeway coming from Seymour. Instead we found a far better place for the night spot well away from the highway; alongside a lovely river in Major Creek Reserve, on the border of the Puckapunyal Military Area. After a bit of a wander around, George discovered a better place on this large Reserve and we later shifted camp to the opposite side of the river where there was a boat ramp, toilets, picnic tables and hardened access.  Signs about the restrictions (and heavy fines) imposed for catching Murray Spiny Freshwater Crayfish were of interest.  Apart from a wind storm followed by heavy rain that set in as darkness approached, we delighted in unwittingly discovering what we would regard as a “ticked” site and have it all to ourselves!

It rained on and off throughout the night and when we finally surfaced from our warm bed, it did not take us long to be back on the move following the ‘Major Mitchell Trail’ through attractive wooded country to Heathcote; then on to Kyneton (popn. 9 000) where, with rain still falling, we camped for the night alongside a large flock of wood ducks, in a rest area 3km out of the town - South Kyneton Mineral Springs. Here, it grew bitterly cold with temperatures dropping to 6C by nightfall, and windy. A nasty evening of shivering cold as we battled to keep warm forced us to take to our bed immediately after dinner. A freezing night with noisy trains and trucks followed and we were glad to leave the free camp next day.

Before leaving Kyneton we stopped in the town to see the memorial mural created by the local community after Black Saturday - 7th February 2009, when 173 people lost their lives, over 2000 families lost their home, and many thousands had their farms, businesses and communities significantly impacted. The mural called AFTER (Art From The Extended Region) was made from tiles, each telling a unique story, expressing artistically the lasting thoughts and memories of many people from many places.  We found it very moving and beautiful.


Thereafter, our route southwards took us through most attractive scenes   down through Trentham and Blackwood. It proved to be a bad choice because of all the unexpected steep climbs and descents (through the Wombat State Forest for example) especially in the light rain and wind that persisted all day. On reaching Bacchus Marsh we decided not to bush camp as planned but find a caravan park. We took wrong roads and ended up getting lost a couple of times and ended up in Werribee where a kind Chinese lady helped us by googling the route to the beachfront onto Lea’s phone. Just as well as we passed through masses of vegetable lands before we found ourselves on the edge of Port Phillip Bay. There, we were given the last site available in the caravan park. It placed us in an easy position for the dreaded run into Port Melbourne next day.
  
We were unable to remain in the caravan park longer than 10.00am (in spite of asking) and moved out into the beach car park where we spent the next six hours waiting to head into the city for the ferry crossing. To pass the time we worked on our computers as drizzle and a gusty winds bumped the caravan, raising fears for our Bass Strait crossing.  By 4.00 we just wanted the next leg done - and set off for Melbourne, over the massive Westgate Bridge with skies just clearing and wind dropping. We made our way down to the docks. Thankfully not a day for the beach and we were able to find a spot to park in and await the next two hours people watching! Finally we were queued for boarding the Spirit of Tasmania. We saw that ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ was showing in the cinema. A good price for a much spoken about film had us buy tickets to watch the life of singer Freddie Mercury (band Queen) despite the late hour of starting! We enjoyed every moment although horrified to see midnight on our watches. Like drunken frogs we giggled our way back to our cabin as the seas rolled us hither and thither. Sleep didn’t come easy either, with all the movement.

Shortly before arriving in Devonport a ‘lost property’ announcement over loud speaker – had Lea feel her neck. Empty! She dashed down to reception and asked if it was a gold chain with a fob. It was… The sick relief was incredible and the gratitude I hadn’t missed it overnight huge. Thereafter, we returned to our vehicle and in speedy time we were out on the road heading for Narawntapu National Park. Excitement mounting as we drew close to the Park Office and had Alison and Amanda rush out from a picnic shelter to meet us. Kettle was on the boil… Happiness was being back together.



After non-stop talking Amanda left us just before midday to return home. While we needed to stretch our legs after three days of confinement due to the awful weather. The three of us took a good walk along Bakers Beach before a late lunch. That afternoon Alison had us both involved in her Koybaa Campground thistle eradication campaign. Bed was a very welcome place after a long and physical day.

A big improvement in the weather took us on around the grassy plains of Springlawn – an area renowned for wombats. Not one a wombat or a burrow to be seen any more such has been the devastation of mange caused by a parasitic mite. Mange had been evident when we last visited in Feb 2012. However, to now find the entire local population had been wiped out seemed extraordinary. The mites thrived in wombat burrows and caused thick, crusty sores and hair loss, eventually resulting in the death of infected animals. In 2015, with no wombats, the Park introduced tumour free Tasmanian Devils into the safety of the park. Judging from recapture results the Tassie devils are doing well. We didn’t see or hear any.  Once we reached the lake, Lea left Alison and George to continue walking a loop around the lake to the bird hide. Her hips and knees were playing up and she returned to the warmth of the car. George found signs of a fresh wombat rooting area which suggested there may be a few coming into the area but nothing more. Even the number of wallabies appeared to be far fewer. Alison spotted a copperhead snake moving slowly across the plains. They observed it for a while as it appeared to be searching for prey (frogs?).  The two returned via bird-hide pathway through tea-tree forests debating about whether the bulbous growths on the branches of the coastal acacias seen growing everywhere were galls or seeds especially as the thick clusters of galls on the tree branches was quite astounding. An insect book belonging to Alison confirmed that galls of this nature do arise as a result of the egg laying behaviour of a particular species of wasp.


  
The seeds (top) and galls  created by wasps (below) on branches of acacia bushes

Another hour long thistle eradication session took place that afternoon before we all went for a shower at the main camp, then on to Griffiths Point to have our sundowners overlooking the Rubicon Estuary.
 

Our sojourn with Alison in the Park drew to a close on the Tuesday as Alison struck camp on a dawning overcast day with rain forecast. A little dance had taken place on the caravan roof overnight and the camera trap revealed a visitation by a possum.
 

Reluctantly we saw Alison leave for home at midday. In another week or so we will join them in Howden for the summer. Come late afternoon, we walked to the boat ramp and further along the Rubicon River checking out the attractive sites of Bakers campground. We spent our last night in Narawntapu wondering if we should stay a fourth night. The weather decided - we moved on towards Longford (90km away) through a landscape that reminded us of England. We booked into pretty Longford caravan park alongside the Macquarie River and promptly saw to our week’s supply of laundry- hoping the rain would keep away.  To pay $40 per night and then find coin operated showers (20c for 3.5 minutes) was not only off-putting - it was unnecessary!   We’d booked in for two nights so that we could drive into Launceston next day.   
                                                    
With dismay we looked at the Cumulus congestus clouds ever lowering on the horizon while around us a well set in drizzle fell on waking… A visit to Cataract Gorge looked out of the question so we loitered awhile before setting off to do a ‘fresh food’ shop in Launceston. On reaching the highway the clouds dropped their load and we drove into town wondering how we’d keep dry. All accomplished we made for home until we noticed the signage to Cataract Gorge and decided a mere look see wouldn’t hurt. Each time we have visited Launceston we have been thwarted. Third time was lucky - quiet carpark we walked along to the South Esk River that followed a depression that was originally formed at a time when Tasmania was ruptured by earthquakes. Surrounding hills were torn and fractured allowing for the river to widen, deepen and erode the shattered rocks and create a gorge right on Launceston’s doorstep. Early citizens took a wetland and turned it into “their version of Victorian Utopia”! They tamed the wilderness of the gorge into beautiful cliff ground park gardens. Of course there were the detractors who felt wilderness was being ruined. It could have been a disaster. Instead we found a beautiful recreation area.  Rolling lawns and a large swimming pool overlooking First Basin. Workers were busy relaying new gardens in this recreation area due for completion early 2019.  As if on cue- the sun came out and we knew our chance had come.


We caught the chairlift – its span of 308 metres is believed to be the greatest single span in the world! Its speed allowed us to fully appreciate the views of this ancient rock gorge and take a selfie. 

Reaching the other side we realised we had recently missed out on a spectacular flowering of Rhododendrons filling the cliffside below us. The pitiful wails of peacocks filled the air. One male on the Victorian Café roof strutted about. We began walking the 1km pathway hugging the western bank. A masterful construction with viewpoints at different intervals.

     


Kings Bridge on the edge of town to Alexandra Suspension Bridge overlooking First Basin, the huge slabs of rock columns, tree ferns and pines added different dimensions to a most enjoyable few hours. A bite to eat in tea room overlooking the rotunda – once housed the bands of a distant age.  A message from the Peacock Patriarch warned of the bad behaviour of up and coming generations. Sure enough peacocks and hens strolled amongst the tables checking for any crumb, ready to help themselves from an unguarded plate.  Three observed proceedings from a tree above our heads. Another male put on a fine mating display and took offence to George leaving before his show was over!

Last day of the month - we head to Lake Leake and rather than risk no signal we will upload the blog from Longford.   

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