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 6⁰C 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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