Tramping tales for December

After slowly bobbing up and down the hills within the Great Dividing for a month it truly felt as if we were ‘speeding’ along the flat open roads out west after leaving Merriwa in the direction of Dunedoo. Like race horses it’s the names that capture our imaginations... Dunedoo, like Merriwa was virtually an empty caravan park. It finally provided us with a washing machine and enabled us to get the loads of washing that had been steadily building and taking up valuable space since we left Kootingal. Wet weather and remoteness played their parts. Laundry done, we were all set to GO and explore new areas in central NSW.

The Big Rabbit Trap had captured George’s imagination and we were headed for Albert. Not that we planned to get there quite as fast as we did ... Bush camps out in the hot, flat lands of wheat didn’t look so good and we just carried on. Before we knew, Gilgandra of Coo-ee fame had flashed by and we were in Albert.  George had conjured up all sorts of ideas in his mind when it came to catching rabbits on a large scale and judging by the odd little places we passed in the blink of an eye Lea felt it was all some wild goose chase. We nearly collapsed on seeing a very large ‘ornamental’ gin trap on the roof of a pub way out in the scrub.  We had truly been caught in Albert!

A free site, we never-the-less pulled up outside the small and well kept children’s playground with toilets and shower opposite the old hotel and stayed the night. We were joined by a motor home and a tent in time. Just too hot to walk around, we waited until sunset before strolling over to the Rabbit Trap Pub for an icy draught. Albert was virtually dead until given a new lease on life by the Owen family. They run a truckies service station beside the hotel and snapped up the old hotel’s liquor licence to prevent losing it to Sydney Fat Cats. Apparently business men buy cheap hotels out bush just for the ‘liquor licence’ and that becomes  the death knell for a community. The Owen family renovated the hotel and turned the pub – named for the local water hole (nothing to do with rabbit catching) into a popular social venue.   It certainly traps the passing trade- predominantly road trains, well into the night. After all that, we enjoyed a pleasant night.

   

It is such a pleasure to ride the empty minor roads. Many of which have been overhauled over the past six years and are much improved thanks to the recent Labor Government ‘Roads to Recovery’ program –  rarely credited as a result of their in-house conflicts and an Opposition that loudly overrode everything with negativity. Our rig rolled along so easily we were able to observe detail in land use and vegetation. Ensure we didn’t squash road slugs (our name for shingleback / bobtail lizards) and avoided dragon lizards crossing the road as we headed south. We’d been to Nundle and now we wanted to see Trundle!

Trundle boasts the widest NSW main street through town and a 1909 hotel built out of mud, rendered with cement and adorned with the longest wooden verandah in Australia.

We were interested to see whether life had returned to Trundle through its Trundle Tree Change Project. This community created an external buzz when it reinvigorated itself by attracting families to the district to ensure their schools and businesses survived. They did this by offering farmhouse rentals for a $1 a week!  From what we could see, as we drove slowly around – there was definitely signs of optimism; everything appeared to be thriving.  This had us thinking that instead of pouring money into wretched off-shore facilities for refugees – the money would be better used in reviving settlements with ‘new blood’. Family groups settled according to their abilities/skills and given a reason to live rather than mental problems arising in detention camps. Our Foreign Minister turns a blind eye when she equates detention camps to being better than miners’ camps. No wonder an abhorrence of these ‘strangers’ arises given the propaganda that abounds.

We cut west again to Condobolin. Not too far on the east side of town was Utes in the Paddock. We drove out from Parkes to see those last time we were in the vicinity. This time we were more interested in following the Lachlan River to Lake Cargelligo. It was a particularly hot day and we couldn’t wait to find ourselves a shady bush camp in one of many ticked sites in Camps 6 outside Condobolin, only we took the wrong route and the dusty road didn’t help. Eventually we found Booberoi Weir – grateful for the instruction to turn south opposite a radio tower or we’d never have found it.

It is easy to play the blame game when it comes to the usage of bush sites by free campers. Who leaves the ‘mess’ despite the Leave no Trace Outdoor Creed is for anyone to hazard a guess. Two drums for litter at Booberoi Weir and yet cans, bottles, disposable nappies and other plastics littered the area, particularly around fire places. In frustration, we cleaned up before collapsing in this lovely spot as the steadily climbing temperature knocked us into a silent stupor. 37.8⁰ C had only dropped to 31⁰ c by the time we went to bed – summer lies ahead!  We moved on some 50 kms next day to another free camp at Cargelligo Weir and found the rubbish equally disturbing plus a wafting smell that turned out to be fish skulls and skins left lying around choice camp sites. Never mind No Fishing signs! Indications strongly favoured fishermen as there were also wrappings to fish hooks and bait amongst the beer bottles. The back of SKV became the ‘holding pen’ until we reach the next skip as again, we cleaned up.  During the afternoon a 4WD thundered around the surrounding weir grounds before driving in next to us. Out bundled Aboriginal children and dogs to hare around the weir outlet for a while. We were left to wonder about the conflicted Care of Country ethos as we endured a muggy day with clouds gathering, giving no more than a drop or two before billowing on.

Rain came during the night and we awoke to very grey skies and a definite drop in temperature as we moved on to Lake Cargelligo. We were most surprised by the town of Cargelligo. Certainly didn’t expect to come across such a good sized and good looking town overlooking the lake. After a ‘look around’ we decided the weather didn’t bode well and Rankin Spring may be the better bet. Slowly, we made our way to the little town of Rankin Spring through cloud burst after cloud burst with wild winds hammering our rig. We noticed many dead Galahs on the road. These pretty birds are known to be foolish when it comes to safety as they feed on roadsides. In the strong winds they grossly underestimated their ability to avoid being wiped out by vehicles. Trashed bodies, randomly scattered along the road invariably had a grieving mate close by in shock; sometimes examining a still bundle of grey and pink feathers... [“PUT in ‘seemingly grieving’ Lea, don’t anthropomorphize” - Yeh, yeh!]  After a stint of hail followed by sleet, SKV lurched violently and our hearts looped de loop...

   

 Blowout... We raced the next storm to get the wheel changed in icy winds

With a tyre blown to smithereens, Griffith was our best bet for a replacement. In normal circumstances Rankin Spring would have suited us. This time, it didn’t prove warmly inviting and we kept going to the Riverina. All too soon, we were reminded of The Fruit Fly Zone. It had come up sooner than we had expected and in a pleasant rest area alongside the Quarantine Bin, we naturally ate our remaining apples, chopped up and cooked our tomatoes and squeezed out the juice of one lemon. Just as well we didn’t have much on the list of prohibited fruit and veg. Back on the side of the Quarantine laws we continued to Griffith. Luckily - Beaurepaires stood out as we entered the city and very competent young men soon had us back on the road in double quick time with a new tyre in place. On our first visit, Griffith Caravan Parks had not appealed to us one bit and we’d ended up staying at Darlington Point, 30kms south.  Despite being damp, cold and hungry we decided Darlington Point on the Murrumbidgee River was still the better roosting place. There on the flood plains beneath huge river gums we were glad to revive with hot showers and a feed. Finally, we relaxed as the shocking weather continued. 

We’d recently checked whether the Lebish family were ‘at Home’ for the Rubber Tramps as this was the best point to change direction and head for High Country, Victoria.  Sue Lebish works in Canberra. Due to distance she works the alternate week from home. Eager to catch Sue before she left for Canberra, we pressed on next day. Our route took us through Jerilderie. We couldn’t resist a stop to walk another significant site in Kelly Territory (never mind the chill factor). The Ned Kelly era certainly grabs the Australian psyche and it fascinates us despite his ridiculously crude iron suit of protection.  We have enjoyed following his trails in many Victorian towns relating to his ’story’. The only time Ned and his gang crossed into NSW was for a well planned raid on Jerilderie’s bank for a loot of $2000.  We collected a Jerilderie map of Ned Kelly’s raid on the town in 1879 and sallied forth... It’s a good way to explore a town and although there were 15 locations we were happy with seeing the ten important ones.

Number 1 – a  minute Post and Telegraph Office where Ned Kelly ordered the disabling of the telegraphic machine  and eight telegraphic poles to be cut down to prevent news of their robbery spreading...

It is amazing to travel through Australia’s once dry, barren plains – laser levelled and watered from the Murrumbidgee, Murray and Snowy Rivers by irrigation canals that weave their way through kilometre after kilometre of land covered in large patchworks of golden wheat fields (40 million hectares under wheat in Australia) and rice paddies indented with newly flushed green lying in water. In time this, will provide part of the 70 tons of rice feeding the nation and the world.  The new generation of farmers’ complete days of work in a matter of hours by using revolutionary methods.  We cut down to Berrigan and on reaching Mulwala – stopped for a quick lunch break beside the lake. It always reminds us of Kariba with its dead trees sticking out of the water. We were soon on our way and almost immediately, crossed into the State of Victoria over the mighty Murray River and on, up the other side of Lake Mulwala to the entry point of the Ovens River. There, we spent a quiet night at Parolas Bend, a free camp in the Lower Ovens Regional Park.  Good weather had returned as we awoke next morning to breaking news on every channel in Australia. Nelson Mandela’ had died in South Africa. Lea developed tremendous admiration for this man dating from his Rivonia Trial that she followed as a teenager. A man who’d maintained his self worth regardless of the indignities and inhumane conduct thrust upon him and so many others by a ghastly apartheid system. Madiba resisted giving in to fear and anxiety and Lea took his words “Pretend to be brave and you not only become brave – you are brave” to heart. It is said that his favourite passage came from Julius Caesar and it follows “Cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant never taste death but once.  Of all the wonders I have yet seen. It seems to me most strange that men fear seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.”  How fitting and meaningful that Mandela, a man of simplicity rose to historic heights and lived to the age of 95 in spite of everything. Tears flowed and if Lea wasn’t to arrive at next destination with swollen eyes it was best to hit the road. We made Wangaratta and did a quick shop before heading for Scott and Sue Lebish in Happy Valley near Ovens, an hour away.

Home from home, we relaxed on the edge of the High Country for the next six days finding it very hard to move on as we helped around the property enjoying Lebish companionship; this includes two horses nostril or lip blowing behind our caravan; chickens rushing to the fence in anticipation of scraps every time we passed by; a handful of curious cattle watching Lea hang out laundry and the dogs... Gus the Schnauzer was tormented mercilessly by the new upstart Jack, a Kelpie pup of 12 weeks, forever tugging at his beard. And, we made the most of CHERRIES galore, fresh from their neighbouring friends.

Promises of ‘cod for the caravan freezer’ came to nothing when Nic took the ill-starred George fishing on the Ovens River. Lea recalls the same result when it came to trout fishing on a previous visit.  Nor did George come away with a fox brush after fox hunting with Scott and Nic one night!

We popped over to Bright with Bek before going for lunch with her grandfather and our Kariba friend Roger Lebish and partner Judy, in Wandiligong. The next day Roger and Judy collected the three of us and took us up the tortuously twisty road through Mount Beauty, Bogong Hydro village to Halls Creek and across the high plains to Pretty Valley for a picnic.

 What a difference 1,000 metres made as we shivered and shook over a picnic until sanity forced us to seek shelter beside a mountain hut -  Roger, Judy, Bek and Lea.

This is Australian pioneer Howman high country where Lea’s distant ancestors grazed their cattle. It is a beautiful landscape despite the dominant stark remains of snow gums decimated by fire years ago. Oddly we had no recall of the dominance of these white skeletal snow gums that gave mountain sides a strange grey appearance and glowed white like snow when the sun happened to break through the cloud. George checked his 2008 photos and sure enough they had been there. In fact, the root stock has since thrown new growth which became obvious close up. The winter entry gate to the Alpine National Park at Howman’s Gap has been renamed Falls Creek since we were last here in 2008, as have the snow vehicles within the alpine resort. 

A view of the alpine country of Victoria from the top of Mount Bogong, 1700m above sea level.

Westward ho... We departed Happy Valley for Shepparton and through to Green Lake Recreation Reserve for two nights- a huge campground with quite a few folk parked there. We found ourselves a private spot well away from the boat ramp and the speed boats with aqua-planers or skiers. Irritatingly noisy, a persistent wind whistled around Getaway as it blew across the plains throughout our stay.

Our site at Green Lake

Twenty kilometres further down the main drag took us to another recommended site, Aysons Reserve beside the Campaspe River for a night. Another great spot which had us look at the route ahead, match dates and deadlines before deciding it was best to keep moving... Having missed Mandela’s memorial service we did not want to miss his funeral. George set up TV before we went for an early walk. By chance Lea decided to check we had the channel televising it the hour before and discovered the funeral was underway. We sat riveted for the next four hours with a flock of long billed Corella and Galahs pitifully moaning, squawking and squeaking outside our door.

Sunset over the Campaspe River from our site at Aysons Reserve

On reaching Echuca, we didn’t stop as we’d had a good look around in 2011 and took the Murray Valley Highway - bit of a misnomer as it’s as flat as a pancake as far as the eye can see, dry and pretty barren without the agricultural richness we’d expected.  We pulled up in the settlement of Gunbower and checked out the caravan park.  We needed water for our tanks and a good shower wouldn’t go amiss. A quiet, well kept park with green lawns and shady trees went down well for the night. Come evening, too hot to cook dinner inside, we chanced on an interesting fellow. Our neighbour arrived home to the old static van diagonally opposite our site and began chatting away as flies mobbed around our frypan with conversations ranging over colonial pasts and histories. Just before we took refuge from the flies to eat our dinner in peace, Russell McNab popped back with a photocopy about a unique art collection depicting Echuca history. From this, we discovered that not only was Russell an Australian Pioneer Heritage Historian, he was also an artist, author and boat designer and builder. We were intrigued to read of his collection of artworks and drawing plans related to historic Echuca’s Murray River Paddle Steamers. After dinner, we again caught up with Russell as he produced another photocopy of his five books which included the work he did for the 1999 Matthew Flinders Bicentennial celebrations in Hervey Bay. Aside from his books was his designing abilities, in particular his design of Gypsy Pearl (a replica of an historic Pearling Lugger) the winner of the Hobart to Sydney Australian Bicentennial Historic Tall Ships Race and more up to date his ‘Eco Wise’ low environmental impact boat designs especially his Safety Yacht producing a safer, simplified and uncluttered deck with easier to handle rigging. Against the norm this had turned into a fascinating night.

We moved on to a site in the Murray River Reserve, SE of Koondrook, in the Gunbower State Forest. Gunbower ‘Island’ lies between the Murray River and probably, a former channel known as Gunbower Creek. This large inland island stretches from Koondrook to well beyond the settlement of Gunbower (which we may add, is not on the island itself).

Gunbower Island - amongst the River Red gums and golden grasses we found ourselves a lovely spot beside the winding Gunbower Creek. 

Since leaving the High Country we have taken to walking in the late evening (7pm) to escape the worst of the day’s heat – regardless, we still arrive back hot and parched. That night we were keen to walk over the island to the Murray River and came across a meandering path we followed for a good while along the Murray. Later, we learnt it was part of the Koondrook Red Gum Forest Walk composed of a 9 km Eagle Loop and a 13 km Turtle Loop that allows visitors to experience the beauty and tranquillity of the second largest River Red Gum Forest in Northern Victoria plus a wetland of international significance.

We deliberately took a back road through Koondrook as it ran closer to the course of the Murray and avoided the heavy traffic of Murray Valley Highway. No sooner had we rejoined the busy highway than we came across Lake Boga, home to the famous Catalina Flying Boat. After the Japanese attack on Broome in 1942 - Lake Boga was the site chosen as a repair depot and in time, 416 aircraft were serviced here. Sixteen kilometres further – Swan Hill. We stopped to collect any information on the road ahead from the VIC. Last time we were in Swan Hill, we struggled to find the famous Moreton Bay Fig. George recalled it as we entered town and, despite Lea having no memory of it – ‘bells rang’ as we walked down to the Visitors Centre – there stood the tree, albeit in pretty poor shape.

The largest fig tree in Victoria, 29m in height (in 2007) is a tree of significance and locally known as the Burke & Wills tree.

Swan Hill, settled in 1840, was the only punt crossing on the Murray River for a 100km in either direction and, it was the only bush settlement explorers Burke and Wills camped in. The Moreton Bay Fig reportedly planted to honour their expedition 6-13 September 1861. As the VIC lady was to explain, the community had feared for the tree’s very survival and taken drastic steps to cut it back. Most recently, to their relief the first signs of coppicing appeared. Our lady gave us a map and instructions to Nyah Recreation Reserve... Just as well, as we still battled to find it!  After a good look round Nyah Recreation Reserve – best sites taken, we continued along the narrow track into the Murray River Reserve and enjoyed a private place of our own – every window wide to grab any bit of breeze and it was too hot to even consider a walk at sunset!

Murray River at Nyah as it meanders through the Murray Reserve.

No prizes for what lured us to the next destination! The surrounds were intensely cultivated with wide spread stone fruit orchards and vineyards. Why some rows of vine were carefully covered in lengths of white plastic we were not sure. It had us wondering whether it protected against hail or direct sunlight but then why some sections and not others. Meanwhile, our eyes scanned for the small, all important Tol Tol Road sign. Spotted! We turned off the highway and began searching for a particular track to...

IT’S ALL IN A NAME!

Beggs Bend State Forest! Our side of the Murray River at Beggs Bend turned out to be quite scrubby with little shade. We had been watching the temperature climb since early morning. Despite unease over his wife’s inability to cope in dry heat – George badly wanted to stay a night in his personal bend!!! Using Saxon’s temperature gauge he recorded the range.

  

Everything melted – from honey to ointments! Fridge laboured, scarcely able to keep up the demand for cold water as it came hot from the tap. Nor was a drop of urine was passed all day despite drinking all we could. Eventually George resorted to giving Lea a bed bath to ease the situation. Soon after 9p.m. lightening on the horizon bedazzled and promised respite yet the dark clouds wafted by leaving us with a few drops and a still and muggy atmosphere.

      

The thought of yet another sleepless night under these severe conditions along with a radio news report of fires burning in the direction of Hattah-Kulkyne National Park – we decided to push through to Robinvale and back into NSW taking the more direct route to Mildura. Healthy asparagus fields, vineyards, almond trees, stone fruit and citrus groves lined the route but there were also many abandoned citrus trees and vines – dying and dead. By the time we arrived at the Visitor Information Centre in Mildura – Lea was ready to spend the rest of the day there in air-conditioned comfort amongst a wide variety of designer Christmas Trees by the community. In our considered opinion the top three, in no particular order were the early childhood class’ Thong Tree, a folksy Patchwork Tree and an Australian Hats Tree. We were stunned at how many caravan parks exist in and around Mildura and the VIC personnel made us nervous about getting a site close to Christmas (in this heat we thought everyone would head for the coast). We decided on the Apex River Beach Park situated on the banks of the Murray River, 4 kms from the main street of Mildura. It was virtually empty! As soon as power was connected, the air-conditioner was switched on. Despite the heat of the day (in the 40’s) George mended the aluminium channel end we’d caught on a tree departing from Beggs Bend. Installed for shade cloth it had ripped out. Hot and bothered everything began to go wrong... the air conditioner stalled displaying an error message; the status of our deep cycle batteries declined despite being on power and charging; the fridge gave us nervous disorders as it wasn’t as cold as it should be; the Anderson Plug didn’t appear to be working and finally the 20 cent discount we had expected on Woolies fuel wasn’t on George’s card not even a 4 cent discount! A Friday afternoon close to Christmas and several fruitless phone calls later we quietly stewed in Getaway. Finally it was ascertained no tradesmen were available to help until into the New Year. It was also too hot to walk- all added up to BAD FRIDAY!

Early next morning (for Rubber Tramps that is...) a light breeze off the river encouraged us to head down to ‘the beach’; there we chanced on a houseboat gently chugging upstream.

We will be doing that soon!

We strode off up the 3km length of walking track along the river to the Old Mildura Homestead - speedier than the houseboat and returned for a late breakfast and shower. We decided not to sit out another hot day and took off for the movie house soon after midday. Not much of a choice for the likes of us; we chose American Hustler as the better of all nonsense and soon, we were lost in good acting by unknowns in a delightfully clever script! We walked out mid afternoon into the strangest muggy atmosphere with a smoky looking sky and sirens blasting forth- we almost believed we’d stepped into surreal film set. At the street corner a few people mingled around and on our approach- they were quick to tell us we couldn’t go in... Startled, we realised we were outside an IGA supermarket. We shook our heads as we didn’t want in and asked what was wrong - FIRE! As we crossed the rather deserted car park we came across the fire engines with firemen unrolling hoses or donning oxygen tanks. We still couldn’t see smoke or flames and watched briefly but nothing seemed dire despite the turnout. In those heat conditions probably safer than sorry!

Overcast skies and the odd drop of rain had us off and away for Merbein – west of Mildura to find the Old Mail route along the Murray. Easier said than done, we stopped at a Merbein Fuel Station to ask further directions and by chance George asked an old fisherman. He was a font of knowledge and quick to say it was a bad idea particularly with a caravan with the prospect of rain.  He was prepared to lead us through part of the back route to a road taking us to Lake Cullulleraine with suggestions that thereafter we return to the main highway. More map searching followed by a decision to avoid the Sturt Highway, continue to Wentworth, NSW and take the back road on the other side of the Murray to Renmark.  We had taken the old Wentworth/ Renmark route before as Wentworth is the junction where the Darling joins the Murray. Passing through we eyed the junction and kept going. Too early to stop at Fort Courage, the lovely caravan park we’d stayed at last time. On we went.... Eventually, we took the Rufus River Road where we were to see a good few large ‘road slugs’ as well as force two snakes to get a wiggle on across the road as we thundered over the corrugations (more noise than speed) - headed for the southern end of Lake Victoria.

One of the Rufus River Road Slugs! Known as Shingleback, Bobtail or Blue Tongue lizards we call them road slugs due to their shape and slowness on the road. 

Well before arriving at Frenchman’s Creek we’d been amazed by lengths of ‘dunes’ until we decided they were more likely to be remnants of old river meanders. From dry salt bush country we were soon astonished by a vivid green habitat teeming with bird life and as we crossed the creek bridge we looked across wetlands gleaming with water as many fishing birds took to the sky in fright. Shortly after, we took the road to Lock 7 on the Murray Darling River.

 

Lock 7 with glorious sights of birds fishing and resting at the weir.

Setting up in a premium spot we enjoyed hours observing pelicans fishing in groups, regally floating when in all likelihood they were paddling like the clappers to keep their position in the strong current. The manner in which they synchronously fish by ducking their heads underwater was poetry in motion. A huge tree had conveniently fallen into the river and died to provide perches for over 70 cormorants of three different species and numerous darters to dry their wings and rest after fishing. Close by, the weir barrier of yellow buoys similarly provided roosting and preening platforms for another few dozen. Excitement ignited when lights began to flash signifying the Lock was in use. Disappointingly, a very small fishing craft passed through on the Victoria side of the river on a surprisingly quiet day for boat traffic. Come evening, a walk took us to the confluence of the Murray Darling and Rufus River. We followed it inland. Spied emu drinking further upstream and hotfooted it through the bush hoping to get a good photo. Five elusive Emus, well camouflaged in the bush, led us on a fun tracking course for the next half hour or more before Lea spotted them running like the wind- obviously hadn’t enjoyed being spooked by us! 

That night, during our usual fiercely contested scrabble game we have when there is no TV, it began to drizzle. Before too long a good soaking rain set in for the night. Lea grew fretful thinking of the dirt road ahead and getting out of the camp site as it was a slippery clay while her husband peacefully slept. Morning relief seeing a blue sunny sky was short lived as a chippy wind brought in the clouds and we tracked out with mud flicking up everywhere.  Back on the Rufus River Road we arrived at another good camp site at the Rufus River/ Lake Victoria outlet with another large congregation of fish eating birds on the south side of the road. On the north side, we clambered up the finely gravelled slope of ‘dune’ having failed to notice a well presented entrance ramp with mosaic fish insets up to the Lake Victoria Memorial Lookout.

Our dune was a mighty berm from which we were able to gaze out over Lake Victoria – a key national water resource, an important Aboriginal cultural heritage site and MORE...  Lea stood on one of many sand tubes providing wave protection. 

Fate had made possible a very worthwhile trip for us!   Our curiosity over South Australia ownership of land at the weir/Lock 7 notwithstanding their border being at least 60 kms west as a bird flies was answered here. We had unexpectedly found ourselves in an area of intense historic, environmental and engineering interest. First impression presented as a man-made lake yet this is an ancient area dating back to a vast Lake Bungunnia until some 10,000 years ago the Lake contracted to a small pool within its bigger basin when the Murray River flow reduced for some reason. The arrival of Europeans in the 1830’s changed the lifestyle of Aboriginals living in the region and gave rise to awful conflicts ending in the 1841 Rufus River Massacre. By 1919 The Murray River Commission comprised of four Governments (QLD, NSW, VIC, SA) approved the construction of 52 km of levee banks (our dunes!) and three regulators to form Lake Victoria Storage, so doubling the lake’s water capacity. The South Australian Government undertook the construction work and they have managed the storage ever since hence numerous S.A. Access Protocol signs everywhere!  During the Second World War, Lake Victoria was used as an Operational Training Ground by the RAAF leading to a number of crashes in the lake with 6 airmen losing their lives. Over time Lake Victoria was crucial to water regulation, salinity mitigation and flow management of the Murray Darling System. More importantly it supplies the bulk of South Australia’s water entitlement. In 1994, while lowering the lake for maintenance purposes important tangible archaeological evidence of Aboriginal occupation dating from 45,000 years ago were revealed. Since then Lake Storage operations have been restricted as the Murray Darling Basin Authority invested in the conservation of what has become the largest single cultural heritage project.

Leaving the Rufus River settlement the road became very slippery with the caravan wanting to snake behind the truck. While trying to maintain momentum the windscreen became covered in muddy water and we engaged in 4WD. Many Eastern Grey Kangaroos were seen around road puddles and raced us down fence lines until they found a gap to bob through. Once back on the old Renmark road we found its poor corrugated condition very different from what we recalled in 2012. Crossing the State Border the road improved markedly. As the crow flies we were very close to a State Corner – just no access. The Chowilla Game Reserve or Biosphere bordered the southern side of our road. Over 17,000 ha of Murray River floodplain and wetland stretched away and our passage required a horseshoe shaped route to get around to the other side of it.   

We had planned to be at Wade / White  Corner for Christmas coming via the Old Mail Track on the Victorian side of Murray Darling; instead we had passed through Renmark, taken the Sturt Highway to Paringa and arrived at the Border Cliffs and Old Custom House on the opposite side of the Murray Darling by lunchtime 23 December. Inside the Custom House George learnt we could hire a houseboat or a tinny to enable a visit to the corner! Camping available in Chowilla Biosphere Reserve a hop over the fence! Hearts dropped seeing the small formalised camp ground for $6 a night. Nothing like the wild, beautiful free sites we had gotten used to. However, we were here for a reason and fortunately the place grew on us as we were the only campers. In the face of a chilly wind, not conducive to puttering up river we decided to book the tinny for the morrow. With lunch over, George began a wash down of the rig, collecting water from the river bucket by bucket.

 

Blue air....Bloody flies, bloody mud; can’t believe it can stick so hard in so short a time and be so difficult to remove.         

In the evening we took the Chowilla 4.9km Wetlands Walk through a lovely spectrum of wetland habits hoping to spot the vulnerable Regent Parrot – a beautiful yellow feathered bird that only breeds in hollows of River Red Gums, normally associated with the flood plains of the Murray. Scott Lebish unwittingly set off a train of discussion – While staying in Happy Valley, Scott had been concerned about the prospect of a tree in the paddock dying as it had  mistletoe attached to a couple of branches. George didn’t think the mistletoe would affect it. Never-the-less Scott was planting new trees with George’s help in case. Here, amongst the many River Red Gums and Black Box trees, George related that conversation as we observed the severity of mistletoe – often, the host tree had dead branches.

Almost ready to leave Getaway and walk across to the Custom House to collect the tinny for a visit to our second Corner when a golf buggy silently drew up at our caravan door. The owner informed George that as he didn’t have a boat license he couldn’t risk allowing us to take the tinny! However, in order not to disappoint he had a man coming to cut the lawns who could possibly take us – whew! That saved the day. Gavin turned out to be a perfect boatman. He lives permanently in a small houseboat with his wife; grew up on the Murray and, he’d worked with the birds of prey at the Territory Wildlife Park, Darwin. We had lots in common, which added to our next little adventure. Wade/ White Corner turned out to be a wee bit more complicated than we’d expected; not simply a post of some description in the middle of the river. This boundary corner makes for an interesting tale given the miscalculations involved and the disputes that arose.  The SA-Vic dispute dates back to 1835 when the region between the coast and the Murray was rapidly being settled by squatters selecting large runs for sheep farming. An accurate border between SA and Vic needed to be defined. The starting point for the border survey was initially established by a surveyor called Tyers – but as the granting of pastoral licences became increasingly difficult, a surveyor named Henry Wade was directed to define the boundary for “police purposes”. He was joined by an assistant surveyor, Edward White, appointed by the SA govt. to act as observer.

After facing much deprivation and hardship the expedition collapsed 250 km from the Murray, forcing SA to proclaim in 1847 the "line as marked on the ground" by Wade should be "deemed and construed" to be the eastern boundary of South Australia. NSW issued a similar proclamation in 1849. (Wade died in 1854). With the survey only partially completed the two colonies agreed surveyor White should complete Wade's line to the Murray as soon as possible. Given the severe nature of the country, White and his party of five were soon in trouble – White’s men deserted him, his horses died and he became lost. Eventually he borrowed a horse at Chowilla station and rode to Adelaide to file his report. As doubts to the accuracy of the Wade-White line grew surveyors Smalley and Todd took up the job in 1868 using more sophisticated equipment. They found that the proclaimed border on the ground was at least 3.6 km to the west of the more accurate measurement of the 141st meridian. This was the beginning of the battle of the Disputed Territory, a bone of contention that was to last for more than forty years and we can only assume it was agreed to leave it as it was! By river the difference between the two posts was approximately 8 km and created a stretch of water regarded as a kind of ‘no-man’s land’. Having Gavin along, increased our understanding of the nature of inter-State rules, regulations and posturing.  Once again we are made aware of the little empires within the country. 

 
 

 

 
Wade/ White Corners! The post was 600 m upriver from the Customs House and Border Cliffs. The other many bends in the river later...

Customs House gives rise to other historical yarns. NSW having claimed the Murray River as part of its colony established Customs Houses at its state borders to impose duties on anything being transported from Victoria  and South Australia  This created much anger within other the other colonies and they retaliated by building their own. In April 1884 a reserve close to the Victorian border was gazetted as Port Murthoo for a South Australia Customs House that for close on twenty years watched over river trade. Federation in 1901 brought an end to Customs Houses and with the advent of rail, riverboat trade severely declined.  By 1904 the Customs Reserve became a station homestead and over coming years radically changed. (New owner renamed it Boundary House and the area Border Cliffs as ‘Murthoo’ considered a rude word in aboriginal language for animal excrement!) In 1967 the State Government bought back the property in anticipation of flooding the low lying area as part of the Chowilla Dam site. Millions of dollars spent on the initial work the plan was suddenly dumped in preference to Dartmouth Dam. Customs House remained deserted until 1973 when the National Trust SA with a renewable lease via their Renmark branch began maintenance. By 1988, a private couple saw potential in Customs House along with the natural stretch of water and with the approval of authorities began to restore and create a business that catered to the tourist and recreational river trade. Changing hands twice more it has continued as a Customs House business running a General Store and houseboat holidays. It is the only company moored between Lock 6 and Wentworth providing 220 river kilometres. Having just done the route between Wentworth and Renmark this must be one of the most unspoilt and sections of navigable water on the Murray.      

All put together made for a very motivating morning doing another Australia States Corner, particularly the two hour tinny trip required to get there. Our first time on the Murray Darling River and we rode in a tinny – how symbolic is that!  We stayed another night in the Chowilla Reserve and returned to the rather beautiful Border Cliffs on foot as our Christmas Eve treat, with nature giving us a particularly pretty display of lighting as the sun set.  .

“Memory is a painter: it paints pictures of the day”

CHRISTMAS DAY: A hot day brewing, we pulled out of our section of the Chowilla Game Reserve at Border Cliffs for a return towards Paringa. We had no fresh food at all as a result of strict border regulations and expectations of passing plenty of fruit/Veg stalls within the rich Riverland agricultural land en route to The Corner never came to pass. Nor was there anything available as we travelled south west. It was to be our most frugal Christmas ever!

A roadside sighting of Box Gums all infested with mistletoe gave reason to stop for a photo.

From the tinny we had observed a good example of a River Red Gum infestation of mistletoe. Gavin explained the parasite plant is spread by the Mistletoe bird. After feeding on sticky mistletoe seeds these are excreted and deposited on gum tree branches. He too wasn’t convinced the parasitic plant was fatal to the host gum. Our roadside stop provided examples of some trees looking stressed but not others so we are yet to draw a conclusion.

With the prospect of camping at Murtho Forest Landing beside the river we stopped at Heading Lookout at the entrance. In the car park a vehicle. A lone soul appeared to have camped overnight.  Up at the Lookout Tower we were taken aback by picnic mess scattered at the base of the tower – all looked fresh! 

A view from the Tower at Heading Lookout.   

Returning to the rig, an irate bloke shot out of the lone car asking what we thought of the disgusting mess! Angrily he reported two carloads of Middle Eastern fellows turning up late last night with boom box blaring forth to party on the headland until 4.30 a.m. with no regard to him or the houseboats below on the river, hence his crankiness. He reported the small camp ground as being cheek by jowl hence he had stopped there for the night. We gave it a miss and ended up at Paruna Comfort Stop, a tiny little caravan park in Paruna, out of signal and in dry mallee country with a steadily climbing temperature that reached high thirties. The little settlement appeared locked up and deserted and we had to laugh at our Christmas! However, we had the ‘Comfort Stop’ to ourselves for $10 in an honesty box giving us power, and a unisex ablution block (the only shower locked). The day passed peacefully with a few birds glad of a drink from a leaky tap.(A truck with roof tent rolled in next to us at dark).

No sign of life in the settlements ahead that we ended up at Murray Bridge a day ahead of schedule. Just as well, as it gave us more time to get ourselves sorted. Murray Bridge is to be our jump off for our next two adventures. We have decided to load this blog earlier as we are booked on an evening ferry to Kangaroo Island on the 28^th December. Return unsure!  

     

Tramping tales for November

Having visited The Dish outside Parkes we couldn’t resist a visit to CSIRO’s Australia Telescope Compact Array at Culgoora as we made our way to Narrabri a little further east. Although a bewildering science at the best of times we do find we learn a little more from each of these visits, even if very simplified!  

 

 

The Array means The Dish times six!

We were able to see five of these 22m diameter parabolic dishes set along a 3km rail track as the sixth works from a fixed base some 5km away. All work together as one telescope and can be pointed with an accuracy of better than two arcseconds which didn’t mean too much until explained as the width of two pinheads or a finger seen one kilometre away, to pick up faint radio signals over a wider range of wavelengths. Thus astronomers are able to observe very fine detail.    

We based up in Narrabri for a couple of nights to enable a visit out to Mt Kaputar National Park. This park incorporates over 50 000ha of the Nandewar Range, itself the result of volcanic activity that occurred about 20 million years ago. The 20km road winds its way up to the summit through ironbark and cypress pine forests (an elevation of about 300m above sea level) at a steady climb. On reaching the height of 1510m above sea level we encountered tall stands of sub-alpine snow gums together with some truly spectacular views of the surrounding countryside. It was freezing cold at the first lookout and we looked at each other wondering how we were going to cope even higher up the mountain in light summer gear. We should have been more sensible.  A play on words caught our attention   ‘Window to the Sky’ - the lookout is named after Douglas Hasting Sky (1899-1966); a civil engineer who supervised a major milestone, in constructing the road from Coryah Gap up to Kaputan Summit. Prior to that, an Alpine Club had, from the late 1880’s, taken hikes up to Coryah Gap. They even held annual New Year excursions up to the gap regularly calling for the protection of the Nandewar Range.

 

Thankfully it wasn’t as cold up at the summit – as the icy plains wind had dropped. Must say we were very impressed by the NP cabins and camping ground available at Dawson Spring. En route down the mountain we stopped at Governor’s Lookout and as it had warmed up we decided to scramble to the top of the large volcanic plug known as the “Governor” before returning to Getaway for lunch. The northern portion of the Park required a different access road on the other side of Narrabri. That afternoon we took the trip to see Sawn Rocks – a very impressive geological exposure or cliff face covered in what is known as “organ-piping” – a massive series of tall, 40m high, polygonal columns of molten rock that had apparently cooled so slowly the individual crystals within the rocks had been able to align perfectly with one another. Fortunately, being west facing the cliff was perfectly illuminated by the time we got there around 3.00 pm, so we were able to get some decent photos. Lying below the cliff were large pieces of the organ pipes that had fallen – their distinctive form reminding us of the shattered columns of the ancient ruins we’d seen lying on the ground in Greece. 

Our route from Narrabri took us through Gunnedah. Although we had enjoyed this little town with all its wild koalas in the past we were more interested in new places and the road to Quirindi fitted the bill. However, the strong gusty winds across the flat Liverpool Plains made travel unpleasant and we pulled into a roadside rest area for a lunch break. Despite the road trains and weekend traffic whistling past it turned out to be attractive enough to stay overnight.

A bonus! The setting sun cast beautiful light across the rich agricultural plains and visits from galahs to the muddy pond we’d parked beside...

Travelling on to Quirindi next day traffic was much quieter. On approaching town we spotted the curiously named Who’d a Thought It Lookout which had been mentioned in a brochure as the “perfect place to embrace the full beauty of the area”. SKV slowly pulled her burden up to the 360 degree panoramic view only to find the sun made photos east impossible and the western views were very hazy. We took up a site in Quirindi Caravan Park- a small, open park set beside wide green sportsgrounds. In peak time it would probably be most off-putting to us. Now, it was virtually empty so we were happy to stay. Glad we did as laundry was $2 (half the price of most everywhere), the shower cubicles were beautifully spacious with the added touch of shampoo and conditioner in large bottles and a well looked after camp kitchen provided comfy outdoor chairs, all for a very fair price. We enjoyed a pleasant walk up into the picturesque town but didn’t go and visit its Rural Heritage Village.  From the plains to the foothills of the Great Dividing Range came a change in night time temperatures and we were scrabbling for rugs during the night.

We moved on to Wallabadah next day and stopped at the Nation’s only garden memorial to the First and Second Fleet. The Gardens were alongside a rest area and the Quirindi Creek (a ticked site in Camps 6). Although it was early in the day we decided to stay overnight as we could see power and water provided by the Memorial Garden for a $10 donation in the Honesty Box.  After aligning ourselves to a power box to ensure we had an attractive view – we discovered no power and all the showers had been locked. So that was that and we moved on after enjoying all the history.

 

A section of the Garden Memorial to the First and Second Fleet  

This memorial for descendants of those who sailed on the First Fleet was instigated by Ray Collins, himself a descendant.  It provides the names of convicts sent to NSW on the First Fleet, 6 January 1787; date and where convicted; sentences given (predominantly 7 years); names of the ships they sailed on and some descriptions of treatment received.  From school history we recall these ‘poor’ folk were sentenced for very petty crimes and sent to Australia in an effort to relieve English prison numbers. IT is only when you count the months do you realise these poor sods, chained in pairs, didn’t arrive in Botany Bay until over a year later! The First Fleet were eventually all anchored in Botany Bay by the 26 January 1788 and henceforth became known as ‘AUSTRALIA DAY’. As for the Second Fleet, their treatment was far harsher as these convicts were sent over “at least expense to the public” and no incentive given to captains to keep prisoners alive. These ancestors were once considered ‘skeletons’ to be kept locked away in cupboards...These days they are a badge of pride.  George searched for the name Begg as he has been unable to trace six of his Grandfather’s brothers so hoped one, at the very least had been a convict. Nothing! We did see a Bell and a Baxter though...  

The hills of the Great Dividing Range make a beautiful landscape to travel through- although cleared for  cattle and sheep – it has an amazingly park-like quality with large trees and short grassy coverings  rolling up, on and over in different directions. It adds to the picturesque scene when we come across cattle or sheep grazing or at rest. Even better when have to slow for stock being moved along the road. Calves, lambs and foals aplenty to croon about!  On arrival in the village of Nundle, set in the Peel River Valley we took up a caravan site overlooking the Peel River and nestled in the heart of the village. Nundle is an historic mining town dating back to 1851 and it is estimated that over those first five years alluvial gold to the value of $1,670,000 was removed. During the afternoon we walked through the incredibly quiet town and found almost everything closed- it was only later that we realised this was the day a horse race stops the Nation! The townspeople were all out to lunch somewhere in their best bibs and hats for Melbourne Cup Day. Although the Nundle Wool Mill was open, the historic wool processing machinery was not running and the lady in attendance kindly suggested we tag onto a tour group next day. Our interest was naturally tweaked a large photo of a 1956 plywood caravan wearing a jumper!  Information told us the ‘caravan jumper’ had been a Sydney Royal Show entry. Nine ladies used 55 kg of 48 ply Nundle yarn and took 5 weeks to knit the jumper and on hearing our lady had been involved in knitting part of the roof, we included her in our pickie.

 

Next morning we returned to the late 2000 purpose built Woollen Mill and enjoyed learning how this delightful little Mill keeps an industry alive. As many as 60 Woollen Mills in Australia have steadily been forced to close unable to compete with overseas processing and poor demand for pure wool products. During 1999 a Nundle couple decided to purchase the Victorian wool processing machinery of J.L McGregor Pty Ltd to create, sustain and hopefully increase job’s within Nundle’s tiny population. In turn, they hoped it would increase tourism and had an elevated area overlooking their historic machinery (carefully restored to preserve Australia’s wool textile history) incorporated within their building. It also provides a wonderful educational resource while showcasing their ‘world famous’ national fibre, range of fashion dyed yarns and hand knitted garments.  They also promote and preserve the skill of knitting and crocheting as they suggest you gather friends and enjoy two days of ‘Knitting in Nundle’; providing expert tuition, factory floor tour, gourmet food and guest house accommodation in town as a package - worth knowing! We were led through a most informative talk from the sheep’s backs to the final products. We were introduced to most beautiful men’s shirts and lady’s blouses looking nothing like wool and yet far superior to pure cotton - or was that sales talk! Worth going on line and buying direct from www.nundle.com

A fossicker on the Peel River

We were intrigued by the fossicking that goes on along the length of the Peel River.  It is obviously a popular activity as we noticed roads signs relating to Fossicker’s Way.  We saw quite a few folk heading down to the river in wellies and carrying sieves.  For a long while George watched a bloke digging around and panning for gold. Eventually they got talking and he showed George his container of gold flakes he’d extracted that day – and reckoned it was all good therapy- like fishing!

Our next stop was further north along the Peel River Valley at Chaffey Dam. A delightful place spread around a well indented shoreline.  A choice of camping within a small protected stock free area or taking your chances out in the more spacious environs. We chose the later as we enjoyed cattle roaming around and spent two nights with different viewpoints for the time spent there and enjoyed both. Tiny grasshoppers appeared to smother the grass lands and leapt away at each footfall. Around our gauze windows, hovered many lake midges and trident tailed mayflies. The odd mayfly settled inside the caravan and we found them shedding their exoskeletons. Once the heat of the sun began to let up it was good to stretch legs around our section of the dam for a good hour of walking. Cattle either ignored us as they grazed or curiously watched our every move.

 

Our first site...
 

 

with  its view.

Chaffey Dam is run by The Bowling Alley Point Recreation Reserve Trust – a non-profit trust run by volunteers for the benefit of the community. The five dollar a day payments provided better amenities than some caravan parks. Although we’d happily have lingered longer, curiosity gets the better of us and not much further along the road another ticked site of approval beckoned at the Woolomin Reserve - a free camping area beside the Peel River. We liked this too. Shortly before our usual evening walk we heard the rumbling of thunder and decided to go earlier rather than risk losing out. Out of luck- we’d had barely covered a hundred metres than the first big drops fell, warning us more was on its way. Flashes of lightening and claps of thunder scurried us back to Getaway before the skies opened...

 

Once the downpour was over we ventured out and enjoyed a good walk as black clouds swirled across the mountains while the sun reappeared and gave wondrous lighting to the green and pleasant valley.

It was a gently winding route through the fertile Peel Valley, much enjoyed from the beginning to the point at which we left it to rejoin the New England Highway to Kootingal. We settled in Kootingal Kourt Caravan Park, north of Tamworth with wonderful views of the Moonbi Range.  We thought we had avoided the steep Moonbi climb out of Tamworth but it lay just ahead... Next day we unhitched and drove back to Tamworth hoping to find Woolworth’s four seed bread in particular as well as restock with fresh fruit and veg. All went well and we found ourselves dashing home in an effort to beat the gathering storm clouds before they dropped their loads. Much needed rain fell all afternoon and evening before clearing up. The very next morning leaden clouds ominously hung over the Moonbi Range. We hummed and hawed about driving up the range in misty conditions let alone a downpour. Decision was made for us when we became engulfed in thick cloud and the rain came down in buckets confining us to our ‘cabin’ for the rest of the day.

Perfect blue skies had us rise early next day and make our way to Walcha before any more forecast rain arrived. Moonbi Range although steep, loomed larger in our memories and was accomplished slowly and steadily with little stress. At Bendemeer we turned east and followed the Oxley Highway through equally attractive countryside dotted with granite outcrops to Walcha – the first area on the NSW Tablelands to be discovered by British explorers and used by stockmen for driving sheep north. Forestry also played a vital role in its early history.  Today this district is a great primary producing area and one of the largest stock carrying areas of NSW. We booked into Walcha Caravan Park to await the arrival of Lea’s maternal rellie - Tessa and Geoff Hodson. At first sight, one could be forgiven for thinking this small park didn’t deserve the rave reviews we’d been given. Again, fully occupied it would not appeal to us but it wasn’t too busy for our stay and we soon realised it was a gem, not only well situated in the delightful country town of Walcha –  “full of civic pride” as Tessa was to so aptly comment; our caravan park had fantastic ablution, laundry and camp kitchen facilities with a number of cabins on the edge in well cared for and pretty surrounds. We spent the rest of the day preparing for our visitors arriving the next day.  Come evening we took our evening exercise along the Apsley River walkway.  We were most impressed at how the local council had topped the levee with a cement walkway inlaid in places with a wide spectrum of creatures with indigenous plants used for landscaping on either side and interesting sculptures here and there, enhanced by the light of a setting sun.

Walcha proved a perfect place to meet up with Tessa and Geoff. We last saw them in Canberra and they have since, retired to Port Macquarie, down on the coast immediately east of Walcha. They drove up the Great Divide the following day in time for lunch and that afternoon we set off to explore town together and found even more artworks. All with little explanation that we were delighted to find a brochure on Walcha’s Open Air Gallery of sculptures and artworks with map at the VIC. The lady on duty explained how a local farmer and sculptor (Stephen King) had approached the town council in 1996, keen to collaborate with them and produce a fountain sculpture for the McHatton Park in the centre of town. They accepted and this first art installation was accomplished; in turn it led to the formation of a Walcha Arts Council and by 2001 the Walcha Council and other funding bodies boasted a unique facility giving their country town a new vitality with over 41 pieces of work by local, national and international artists. This included the school children throughout the area being involved. Each made a ceramic which was embedded in a mosaic depicting an eclectic ‘stream of life’ and set into the top of a little wall protecting pedestrians as they crossed Middle Street Bridge over the Apsley River.  

 

 

That evening we shivered over dinner and couldn’t wait to get inside Getaway despite owner Neil Smith (a good host who moves around his park checking security and the well being of his guests) suggesting we move into the camp kitchen and light the pot belly fire. George had, however set up a ‘show’ so we hopped inside the caravan where we were harassed by the DVD equipment playing up. Just as well the Hodson’s preferred the comfort of a cabin in this cold mountain air and after lots of talking we all retired to warm beds.

Lying in the high country (at over 1000m asl) Walcha is not far from the Oxley Wild Rivers NP. We packed a picnic and spent a day, travelling in the Hodson’s car, visiting the area’s two famous waterfalls - the Apsley and the Tia Falls – each at the head of dramatic gorges with walking tracks to various lookouts and viewing platforms. Although the Apsley Falls had no water coming over, the gorge (a deep chasm) below made for a very impressive sight. The Tia Falls on the other hand, receives water from a catchment that contains large tracts of rain forest, and there was a lot of water coming over it. The Tia River has only once been known to stop flowing (32 days in 1942). Acting like shepherds we found a number of farmers watching their cattle grazing in the road reserve, a zone known as the “long paddock” which they use when the grass available on their farms declines.

 

We pay tribute to the Walcha Lions Club for their determined effort and expense in replacing the original wooden staircase with a fine steel walkway in 1961 to enhance the viewing area of Apsley Falls..  

Sensibly, George lit the pot belly fire in the camp kitchen and the four of us happily settled in  for sundowners and dinner enjoying the warmth and comfort of a beaut wooden house very well equipped- even ‘washing up’ was a pleasure with a tap that lit up in colours according to the temperature of the water!  The table proved perfect for playing ‘Banana’ and we may well have kept playing but for a sign warning lights automatically switch off at 9.30 pm! It was almost full moon with a relatively clear sky despite a forecast of heavy rain in the area for the weekend. Well out east, we had seen towering cumulus billowing upwards along the coast.

We awoke to overcast skies and after breakfast – farewells. Our rig pulled out of Walcha hot on the Hodson’s heels. They went east and we travelled south across the crest of the Great Dividing Range on what is known as Thunderbolt’s Way, a road with many badly weathered patches. In the sky above a blue sky began to look promising... We were making our way to Barrington Tops National Park, part of the Gondwana Rainforests of Australia World Heritage Area. All these Great Dividing Range National Parks have been collectively grouped under this WHA title. Further south, gloomy looking clouds began closing in and the many hills, not to mention patches of mist, slowed us down even more. We were taken aback at a particularly long, steep drop taken in low gear over the edge of the divide Great Dividing Range into the valley of the Manning River. In one section of the descent, leaves heavily carpeted the edge of the road after recently being stripped off the trees by hail. Patches of ice still lay beside the road and we breathed an enormous sigh of relief for our timing! Consequently, on spying the rather crowded Bretti Reserve, a free camp down on the floodplain of the Manning River, we felt a measure of relief to pull off into the campground in time for lunch. The weekend caravan and camping fraternity had taken up the best sites along the river thus we settled further back amongst a veritable sea of cow pats, courtesy of all the cattle feeding there!  A cold wet afternoon followed and at teatime George noticed the tell-tale signs of a leak. A pond of water below one of the solar panels led George to applying a coat of hydro-seal the next day. We thoroughly enjoyed two nights at Bretti despite inclement weather and had it not been for a lack of communications (radio, TV or mobile) we would have stayed longer.  

 

Bretti Reserve

As we neared the village of Barrington it began raining again so, drawn by the prospect of a hot shower, some contact with the outside world and a need for information on the condition of the Scone Road via Barrington Tops, we took refuge in Gloucester Holiday Park.  At the visitor’s information centre we learnt the Scone Road had recently been covered in ice as a result of a hailstorm that had swept through and that the steep and winding nature of the gravel road was regarded as unsuitable for caravans. The only real answer, once weather permitted, was simply to see for ourselves. The weather report on TV gave us a small window of opportunity to hopefully see something up in the high country before rain was scheduled to reappear. We left the next morning and headed towards Barrington Tops (altitude 1577m asl) in overcast, but reasonable good weather. We made poor old Skiv slowly haul our heavy home over Copeland Tops, crawl down the opposite side and take us to “Camp Cobark” – a campground alongside the Cobark River on a cattle farm / horse ranch in the foothills of the “Tops” region.

 As soon as we’d unhitched and packed a picnic lunch we set off to explore the mountain and simultaneously make an assessment of the condition of the 100 km spine road that leads over the top to Scone. It didn’t take us long to decide it wasn’t so much the grade of the road that was off-putting, but it’s rough, rocky, pot-holed, poorly maintained surface. Once on top of the plateau we stopped to undertake a number of the points of interest marked on the crude “mud map” we’d been given at the visitor’s centre. These either led to lookouts over mist shrouded valleys or through dripping forests covered in tree ferns and huge moss covered Antarctic beech trees. On a clear day we should have seen the sea from the top of the range! Although we regretted having a misty day, it did not prevent us from gaining a good idea of the area, lyrebirds included! We saw three of these long tailed birds fleeing across the road and they reminded us of the “road-runners” we’d seen around Albuquerque. So too, we enjoyed overlooking the sphagnum (peat) swamp at Polblue where we stopped for lunch. As soon as we’d settled at the picnic table the rain came and we had to scoot back to SKV and view the snow gums, tufted and fine leaved snow grass from there. ‘The Firs’ completely caught us by surprise and we were staggered at the size and density of the beautifully straight Douglas Firs (Oregon pines), planted in this small area on the mountain in 1966. We went as far as the Dingo Gate before turning around. We decided to turn east following the Tubrabucca road into the valley of the Manning River and do a loop back rather than repeat the ‘Tops’ road.  Apart from a large number of red legged pademelons leaping from the side of the road “like fleas from a dog’s spine” in one particular section of habitat, the road turned out to be a long, rough, rather unrewarding circuit through stands of tall stringy barks and mountain gums. And, when we got back to Camp Cobark we were shocked to find the tranquil campground we’d left earlier now resembled a “tent city”. It was over-run by rowdy youngsters swimming in the river and playing ball games in all directions. In all fairness, once we recovered from the shock of change – we found they behaved very well! It placed extreme pressure on the one shower and two toilets provided for each sex though.

Next day the hundred odd high school children were split into groups for horse-riding, cycling, kayaking or floating down the Barrington River rapids on inflatable mattresses (lilo!) We went to explore the Gloucester Tops region and followed the Rawdonvale road through picture perfect grasslands dotted with rotund, contented looking cattle, rolling hills and attractive farmsteads. We crossed the Barrington River just as excited students were being given activity- instruction) and they all waved in recognition of our truck. The gravel track wound us over the Kerripit River until we reached the valley of the Gloucester River. Here, the road up to the National Park was to cross the Gloucester River half a dozen times over low-level causeways, each overtopped by crystal clear water. The 18km drive to the top of the plateau took us through tall eucalypt forests and patches of temperate rainforest  enlivened by distant views of flame trees in flower, the regular sighting of blue and red eastern rosellas flittering between trees, the distinctive staccato ‘tink’ of bell birds and, yet another lyrebird to  dash across the track.  Once at the top, among the trilling of a multitude of cicadas, we walked all the trails available – another stand of Antarctic beech forest; a cicada orchestral walk amongst snow gums along a marshy tributary of the Gloucester River, and another to the Gloucester Falls. The cicadas provided great interest. They were the most beautiful orange colour, had brilliant red eyes and allowed us to take close up photos of them whilst chirping away on the stems of the snow gums, the bark of which had been etched by the scribble-bark insects that we have yet to learn the identity of. These creatures, as well as water dragons at each river crossing, kept us well entertained!

At the same time, for a park that achieved world heritage recognition in 1986, we were disappointed by the air of neglect apparent around every corner - poorly maintained roads and walking trails, sub-standard picnic sites and camping grounds; road signs that were barely legible; information boards - badly weathered or covered in grime they were unreadable; cheaply made warning signs (stapled onto cardboard of all things) lying on the ground advising visitors about track closure; no suggestion of properly constructed boardwalks over sensitive wetland areas; evidence of eroding paths and unkempt toilets. No sign of a ranger or a ranger station. The NSW Parks and Wildlife Service are a bit of a mystery to us especially after coming away from a place like Mt Kaputar which filled us with admiration for what the organisation had achieved there. What is it, other than the obvious lack of money and staff that accounts for the neglect that is apparent in a place like Barrington Tops? The PWS have had 25 years to turn Barrington Tops, a wilderness area justifiably worthy of World Heritage status, into something to be proud of - yet this is certainly not the case. Many of Australia’s Ramsar sites, once registered, suffer from the same problem.

   

Departing Cobark Station, we took the Rawdonvale farm road in preference to the steep climb back over Copeland Tops. It was a magnificent day – no sign of any rain returning. George had to endure renditions from Oklahoma’s ‘Oh what a beautiful morning’ and ‘the hills are alive with the addition of “by the sight of grazers” from The Sound of Music as Lea, brought up in the era of ‘Musicals’ is a real tragic and scenes easily trigger songs from the period. It was all very uplifting as we travelled as far as the turn off to Gloucester Tops and onwards in rolling greenness.

 

Just as we’d seen the previous day – young heifers and steers camped on the same corner. Further on cattle still stood in dam water too.

 We made our way to Dungog (the name had appeal!) and stayed in the showgrounds. The only folk, we had the company of hundreds of corellas squawking or moaning especially when the wind and rain disturbed us all during the night. We had expected a mountain village serving as the southern gateway to Barrington Tops. Instead, the main streetscape reminded us of Rhodesia’s Manica Road, Salisbury in the 50’s. We were intrigued by a 1930’s Spanish styled James Theatre – although its origins date further back to 1913/4. It housed the cinema. Dungog boasts it to be the oldest, still operating purpose built cinema in Australia – not sure on what grounds they could win that argument! Sadly the next film showing came up on the 30 Nov. Obviously not enough custom!

Dungog’s VIC told us about a caravan park at Lostock dam, 20km north of Gresford. That proved a dead loss – and it was as well the dairy farming area set amongst winding roads and steep hillsides gave us pleasure as we traipsed there and back. We ended up doing a ‘long trek’ in the upper reaches of the Hunter Valley  as nothing appealed in Singleton and the New England Road west was a nightmare of traffic particularly after ‘owning the road’ for so long. Coal fields and power stations marred the landscape and we sympathised with landowners on seeing many signs attached to property fences - Locked Gates to Mining; Save Our Rivers; Enough Mines Save Farms. It was a relief to see the turnoff to Lake Liddell and get off the highway – as in front lay a dark and foreboding sky. The sight of a large power station belching steam from a prominent position on edge of the lake was off-putting however the Recreation Campground proved perfect. We placed ourselves in the opposite direction to the power station overlooking a small inlet, edged with sedges and alive with pelicans, geese, swamp hens and black swans. Hills rolled peacefully into the east – all was well until a strange angry bee like humming alerted us to the l-o-n-g train of coal wagons being hauled through the hills by diesel engines. They regularly trundled back and forth emitting a high pitched whine, noisily stopping on the campground boundary if another lengthy train was coming from the opposite direction – day and night. We decided this was small price to pay for a very reasonable campground, in pleasant setting, giving good TV coverage over a weekend heralding stormy weather. And from the west we could see black storm clouds with menacing tinges of green bearing down on us and we waited their onslaught – relieved when we simply caught the edges of storms as they continued through in waves. Thunder and lightning all around us as damaging storms hammered the east coast.

A break in the weather enabled us to take a brisk walk around the campground next morning and we were able to get the generator out and recharge everything before the next onslaught caught us midday.

 

Eerily the light changed our turn had come...

Hail pounded Getaway and we anxiously hoped the dice sized stones wouldn’t cause damage as  thunder and lightning flashed and reverberated through the hillsides. Ponds of water surrounded us and during a brief pause we decided to pull away from the fast becoming swampy lake edge to higher ground, a few metres back. The rain kept coming and the light kept changing; most importantly - we were dry inside our caravan. By Sunday blue skies smeared with thin cloud were back and George went to pay for another two days. He learnt a house had lost its roof further NE and rivers in the locality which hadn’t flowed in years were doing so. So much rain, the New England freeway apparently hadn’t coped well with water pouring down its length!  We were safer where we were. Trainspotter! Lea pondered the railway traffic and monitored the passing trains heading east and west during a twelve hour period. Thirty one trains predominantly comprised of two diesel engines pulling plus /minus a hundred carts of coal; a swift passenger train of two carriages and twice we observed twin engines beetling up the track without anything to drag.

We had observed workers living in tents or camping trailers during our morning/evening exercise around the campground. Judging by the amount of ‘stuff’ around each rough encampment these folk had been there quite a while taking advantage of the very low rates. Aware that we were not far out from Muswellbrook our ill conceived assessment took on a life of its own as we reading a crime book on a most gruesome murder that took place in Muswellbrook, February 2000. How easily a crime like this can taint one’s opinion or expectations of a place. The ‘Speckled Hen’ worked in an abattoir at Muswellbrook as did her family and she became a dab hand with her skinning knives. Her tools of trade led her to become the first Australian woman to be sentenced to life imprisonment without parole. Now that we were heading in the direction of Muswellbrook, Aberdeen and Scone - all places that had played a significant part in her life – we felt a macabre curiosity towards the area. How stunned we were to find a large bustling town with no overt signs of deprivation amidst the surrounding green and rolling hills dotted with dairy cattle all the way through to nearby Aberdeen. The peaceful normality thankfully brushed away the infamy Australia's Hanna Lecteress had unwittingly wrought upon a community. Aberdeen- Speckled Hen’s birthplace maintained a pretty Scottish air about it despite being nowhere near the size of its namesake. We swung off the New England Highway here for Lake Glenbawn State Recreation Park. Strangely the caravan park was well away and out of sight of the water but there was a large campground without power on the eastern shore. Difficult finding level ground for the caravan  and we eventually found a private spot in a boat ramp cul-de-sac and spent the next three days overlooking the water.(cheaper week days than weekends)

Our Glenbawn site at sunset.

We enjoyed walking in the lake vicinity – plenty of bird life. Heard Choughs making a variety of chirruping whistles as they socialised together which were new to our ears. A pelican, crested grebes, Fairy wrens and hundreds of moorhens inspired George to take out his water colours. We also spotted an echidna hoovering up ants along one of the many ant trails to be found here.

 

Wish we could identify ants! These gravelly mounds are very common in NSW.  Bull ants or Meat ants? Their trails are very obvious and yet they don’t travel the big distances or in the same manner as those sabotaging night ants of Niassa!

 The width of the trail seems to depend on the size of the nest and George noticed they’d often lead to a tree. The attraction seemed to be aphids, as he found ants milking aphids in a tree. Temperatures soared on our last day and trying to sleep that night was most unpleasant- summer lurks!

In the early hours we awoke to noisy wind and then rain arrived. We pulled out early and made for Scone in a gentle drizzle. Caravan parks at either end of Scone had no appeal whatsoever. Weather put any thought of laundry out of the equation. Our best bet was Burning Mountain Nature Park. First, we needed to resupply and since we’d struck lucky with a Woolies and Coles in Scone; both giving 20c discounts on fuel we decided to double the advantage before leaving. By the time we’d finished in Woolies (no seed bread!) the rain was bucketing down. Swift, metre wide ‘rivers’ swept down the road spreading even wider at storm water drains. Keen to get the ice-cream into the freezer at the first sign of easing, Lea hot footed through the wet. It was a battle to unlock Getaway – as the fast flowing water built up around the caravan.  With umbrella in hand she returned for George and the trolley. A short break in the weather allowed us to nip into Coles and successfully complete the required expeditions. Back on the busy New England Freeway heading north towards Tamworth in drizzle with worse weather ahead; over-size loads and road trains keen to pass the crawling Rubber Tramps left us feeling fraught! North of Wingen (‘win-jen’) we were relieved to see the Burning Mountain NP turn-off and were somewhat dismayed to almost immediately pull into a rest area. No level ground and traffic flying past down the hill side. All very off-putting... We decided to weigh up our options over a cup of soup.

There were no alternatives... A night here would have to be bearable. The intended two nights to bring us to the start of December, was out of the question. Tomorrow we will return to Scone and head south to Merriwa. A lull in the wet weather had us scuttle out to do the 2 hour walk to the Burning Mountain (hoping a man who offered to escort George didn’t see us disappear as he quietly imbibed from a carton of wine in the picnic shelter).

In 1828, a farmer came across the Burning Mountain and thought it was a volcano. Over the years it was found to be the result of a natural underground coal seam fire that has been burning for around 6000 years. It is burning southwards at the rate of one metre per year. It is the only known example in Australia and one of three to be found in the world. A good walking track began at the rest area boundary with a style. The first section was steep. Many steps led us into the surrounding hills giving attractive views despite grey skies. Cattle and calves eyed us as we strode briskly along hoping to beat the next downpour. At the current vent area with its vaguely sulphurous smell, an Eastern Grey kangaroo attracted by the warmth at the surface was warming itself. Wispy plumes rose out of small rocky vents, just visible to the eye from the boardwalk safe-viewing of the burning head. After seeing the kangaroo and obvious signs that cattle roam over the ‘head’ we couldn’t resist a closer inspection.  Here, we could feel the warmth although hardly the reported “toasting of 350⁰C”. And, we could see ‘ash’ around the vents which we subsequently learnt was sinter, a product of emerging hot gasses on cooling. There were also colourful patches of crumbled red oxides and yellow sulphur stones baked by the underground heat. It was all a most interesting vista. It had definitely been a worthwhile trip to come out here after all. Returning to the rumbles of thunder we had a clear view of the Wingin Maid.  This is the ancestral figure of a woman who sat waiting for her husband to return from battle at the tip of a sandstone cliff. Distraught, when he didn’t return she begged Biami (God) to take her life. As he turned her into stone her tears rolled down into the valley and ignited the Burning Mountain – hence the Maid holds mythological importance to Aboriginal people.

The Hunter Valley is known for wine. In 2011 we’d travelled down the valley to attend Leecy’s 60^th and we had noticed magnificent horse properties more so than vineyards! Never-the-less, we were surprised to find the Aberdeen/ Scone region abounded with picturesque post and railed properties containing many beautiful thoroughbred racehorses grazing peacefully. Judging by fancy signs, this was not merely horse territory it was an Equine Paradise. Returning through Scone (without shopping or rain on our minds) we were able to enjoy the many horse silhouettes dotted around and in particular, a touching statue.

 The Mare and Foal in Elizabeth Park, Scone.

We came to realise this statue is a historic icon to Scone’s reputation as Horse Capital of Australia. Newmarket in England, Kentucky in America and Scone in the Upper Hunter Valley form the world’s most dominant thoroughbred operations – There! We have learnt a thing or two... The calibre of breeding stock around here is not to be sniffed at.

We continued on south to the mostly agricultural community of Merriwa. We remembered dashing through Merriwa on the Golden Highway en route to Leecy (2011) and unexpectedly stopped to photograph a corrugated iron artwork that caught our eyes. The caravan park beside the Merriwa River was a stone’s throw from ‘The Hut’ and the wall covered with  corrugated iron cut-outs of sheep commemorating Merriwa’s early history of sheep grazing/ wool industry. In June Merriwa holds a Festival of the Fleeces with its signature event of a flock of sheep running down the main street wearing red socks!  We enjoyed wandering around Merriwa to end of last day of November.