week 1

Week 2 - From the bowels of the earth to . . .

We left my sister's home on February 1 and headed for the hills. Quite literally, actually, as we did not choose the expressways to get us to Katoomba, but the Putti Road instead. I had often heard of this road during my teaching days: of its winding climbs (making it a mecca for motorcyclists) and the danger of hitting wombats, thereby destroying the car. We encountered several motorbikes, all trying to break speed records, we believe, but no wombats. We therefore arrived safely in Windsor and then Katoomba

I had seen the Three Sisters many years ago as a child and again briefly when I took Josh and Kate to the caves. Now we could spend time to meander, explore and appreciate. Bush paths led to some more views of this feature of erosion. We returned again at night, as they are lit up by floodlights. While waiting for dusk to envelop us a mist started to form far below on the valley floor. This quickly expanded and began to rise, at times masking the Sisters from view. When the lights finally came on, all we could see was illuminated mist. The video looks like an inferno.

We had checked into Gardners Inn, the oldest hotel in the area. Staying at such places has a certain romantic appeal, but like visiting Papeete in Tahiti, the romance is in the anticipation and the later bragging. The room has nothing other than a bed, the floors wall and once-beautiful tin ceiling were in dreadful shape.

Storms had begun earlier in the day and they provided a light and sound show throughout the night. Next day on our way to the Jenolean Caves, we found out their real effects. Four inches of rain had fallen in the Jameson Valley, and the precipitation was accompanied by gale-force winds. The narrow (and of course, winding) road to the caves was littered with debris:Branches, bark from stringbark and other gum trees; trees had been chainsawed to allow access, and there had been several rock and mudslides. The road workers had their jobs cut out to have the way open by 10 am.

Jenolean Caves were first discovered (by Europeans) by an escaped convict, but he was not given the credit until many years later. The aboriginals have a myth about one of their forefathers chasing a creature which turned into half fish, half snake and burrowed its way through the rock, creating the many caverns. We toured one of these, the Lucas Cave, with its spectacle of stalactites, stalagmites, columns and curtains. (Josh was intrigued with this cavern many years ago when he found that the cave river flowing beneath his feet was the River Styx.)

This cave was once the venue for instrumental concerts and even church services, but they became so popular that all had to be discontinued. We were played part of a symphony while in one cavern and the acoustics were unbelievable.

Disappointed that Jenolean House no longer serves Devonshire Tea for the dirty masses (visitors. tourists) we made our way out of the valley on another debris strewn road to Oberon, being forced to stop in our tracks with a torrential downpour and the occasional clatter of hail.

The best available accommodation in Oberon was in a cabin in a caravan park. Having often toyed with staying in such, we booked in and were very happy with the spaciousness, the warmth, the convenience. And - bear in mind this is February in Australia - we had the heater on to keep warm.

Heading south the next day we were grateful that we decided to take a short cut to Goulbourn. Although the road was unsealed for 15 km, the views afforded were well worth the inconvenience. Goulbourn, the center of sheep country was a bustling city and was worthy of a long break from driving. The older buildings have been maintained well, as has been the Catholic Cathedral, where we "had a dekko".

Quite pleased at finding a way to avoid Canberra, we arrived in Cooma in the mid afternoon and booked into . . . another cabin (where we pan fried fish - Blue Emperor - for supper). Cooma is in the heart of Snowy River country, and a statue of the Man from Snowy River adorns the park in the middle of town.

It had been our intention to climb Mount Kosciusko today but again the weather had thwarted our plans. Checking with the Information Centre, we found that the temperature on the peak would rise to 2 degrees Celsius, the gale force winds would no doubt close the chairlift that accesses the walk, and there was several centimeters of snow on the peak. All this in the middle of summer! We decided that we had traveled to the other side of the planet to escape the snow - there was no bloody way we were going to freeze our butts off climbing into it!

Instead we headed south on the Monaro Highway and then towards the coast, again coming down the Great Dividing Range, though the twists and turns were comparably mild. Our first stop was Bega, on the south coast of NSW where we took a few minutes to tour the Bega Cheese Factory. It was here that we both tasted terrific cheese, and learned more about some of the anal laws that abound within the food industry. There were several cheeses that we liked and would have gladly bought slabs of each, but had to content ourselves to one variety, over-packaged in too much plastic - because it was illegal to sell bulk cheese.

On then to Eden where we sipped coffee while looking over Twofold Bay. Heather now took the wheel and drove through the curves and the hills into Victoria. We used the Information Centre in Orbost to locate cabins in Marlo - a little community at the mouth of the Snowy River. We trekked along the banks of the river for quite some distance before returning to our version of an oxymoroned cabin-style gourmet supper.

Before heading east we stopped off in Orbost to see the pioneer buildings along the river. The stream, according to a passer-by, was almost dry two days ago but the rains had filled it, but not to the extent when I saw it three years ago. On the main street some wag has used a flower bed to create the "Grave of the Snowy River Man". Showing through the blooms is a pair of boots . . . and a rabbit trap.

Lakes Entrance was a mistake because we missed the turnoff, but this only added a few minutes - and a lot of photos - to our trip. We stopped in Yasrram where the courthouse is installed in a beautiful courthouse, used up until 1989. It was quite a sight to see the information volunteer sitting primly in the clerk's dock.

Our highlight for the day would be a visit to Wilson's Promontary - the most southerly portion of mainland Australia. We would have stayed there, but the cabins were booked one year in advance, and they seemed to be enormously overpriced. We contented ourselves with a picnic lunch on Squeaky Beach, so named for the sound of the sand when walked upon. It was windy, but the earlier rain had stopped and we were immersed in glorious sunshine.

Unheard of by me until now, Leongatha is a fairly large town within easy reach of Melbourne. We found accommodation - tonight in a motel, and headed for the RSL (the equivalent to a Legion) for supper. My eyes were transfixed on the mixed grill on the menu, but Heather's eyes were transfixed on me, so I settled for a half portion - and wisely so. I could not have eaten the full meal ( but if I really tried . . .).

The place was crowded with people as there was a Willie and Waylon concert that night. With little else to do we thought we might stay and watch but were informed that it had been sold out several weeks earlier.

Next day had us - after a few errors - in the CBD of Melbourne. We parked and wandered around, finding an Italian restaurant where we had eaten last time. The cannelloni and the rigatoni were still delectable. Best of all, we got to see Mamma (we were told everyone is to call her that) prepare the dishes.

Satisfied, we wandered around the parliament buildings and Fitxroy Gardens, remembering the preponderance of sculptures in the city. (Captain James) Cook's cottage, the Fairy Tree and the beautiful avenues were still as beautiful as ever.

On then to the Botanical Gardens where we were amazed at the crowds of people out enjoying their Sunday afternoon. There were at least two wedding receptions being held in the grounds along with numerous family gatherings. And the flowers were blooming beautiful.

Our airport hotel room tonight is a plastic module - a tiny plastic module. Very new, there is only room to walk by the end of the bed, the toilet and shower share the same space, every corner is put to use. A room of the future? Then the future is cramped.

So tomorrow we return our car and fly to Launceston, Tasmania. We have heard several disturbing tales about Virgin Blue Airlines, so it will be interesting to see what happens. Now, back to fitting everything into the two bags we brought on this segment.

Week 1 - Jan 27

We slept fitfully on the flight into Sydney, I believe the Singapore Airlines have downgraded their service since we last flew them (or was it simply the romance of memories??). Arriving in Sydney on time I was concerned about entering with our decaf tea bags. We declared them and were told to go on through. It was only some time after that we realized that we also had a bag of saffron (at least we think it is saffron) that we bought at the floating markets in Bangkok.

Sydney's electric trains are usually quite cheap to use, but the short trip from the airport to Central Station cost us in excess of $11.00 each. But it was public transit so we rode the train - with all of our bags - in the midst of morning rush hour! Nevertheless we were assisted by several people (some of whose toes had been run over by our bags) who volunteered information about lifts, directions and such.

Our tickets bought and our luggage booked through, we took a short walk into the area around Central to inhale a little fresh air before our train left for Maitland where we were met by my sister, Edie, and brother-in-law, Maurie. A couple of incidents on the train reminded us that obesity and spoilt children also go hand-in-hand in this country.

My sister had been suffering greatly prior to our arrival and soon found that her problems were caused by gallstones. We were able to take over the cooking and such for her so that she could rest as much as possible. It is really something to walk into a home half-way around the world and feel that it is my home, and be treated by my sister as though it is my home.

So when we left for our trip to Tamworth, Edie left for hospital, much to everyone's disappointment. (A week later she is back home, with an operation scheduled "down the road"). En route we stopped by to see Aunt in Quirindi. Aunt was my landlady for a couple of years in the early 60's and she maintains contacts with most of her former boarders. Now at the age of 89 she has slowed down and only writes 350 letters each year, down from her 500+ . A long chat, a cuppa and a few sandwiches later we were on the road, passing through Werris Creek where I had last taught in Australia. We only stopped for a map and found the garage owner was a former pupil.

The Australasian Country Music Festival was quite something. Heather had not envisaged it to be quite so big, and was surprised to find over 30 different venues offering entertainment simultaneously. We took in several shows including a morning session of bush poets. I was taken by a couple of selections and purchased their poets' books. Look out Storytellers!

The weather was unbelievably hot, staying mostly in the mid to high 30's. Walking along the streets to listen to the buskers was a chore at times until we did it like the pros: one side in the morning and the other side in the arvo, staying in the shade. Our bed 'n' breakfast was air conditioned so there was relief there.

We spent three nights in Tamworth before we headed north over the Moonbi Ranges and onto the Tablelands. Our first stop was at Thunderbolt's Rock, where the bushranger (aka Fred Ward) often hid. It is now desecrated with graffiti that proclaims one's love for another, for the Lord or simply to advertise one's prowess. At least the blue tongue lizards that we saw were unspoiled.

In the town of Uralla, not far away, Thunderbolt is almost revered. There is an exhibition of art depicting his last day, a statue of a dashing horseman by the highway and a grave site maintained by the citizens of the small town. There are several theories about the fate of the man, one of which has him being deliberately identified as the dead man and collecting his loot before heading to North America. There is a story that he eventually died in Ottawa.

There is a family connection to this man. My grandmother was visited by a man on a thoroughbred (Thunderbolt's trademark) who demanded a meal. She cooked one for him and gave him more to take with him - she knew she was dealing with Ward and believed he was not a bad person. He thanked her and went on his way. She found a 20-guinea note under his plate. This caused a dilemma: how could a dirt-poor farmer explain the acquisition of such wealth? I believe the owner of the property broke the note into smaller denominations.

We drove north to Tenterfield then headed east down the ranges on the Bruxner Highway. The road had certainly changed from the sixties. Gone were the multitude of single-lane bridges and narrow roads, but the twisting and exhilarating turns were still there.

The Limpinwood Valley, home to my eldest brother since the late 40's was extremely hot and humid for escapees from the frigid climes of Canada in January. We would not have survived without a fan in our bedroom.

Vince, 20 years my senior, bought property in this valley when he returned from World War 2 (which included stints in Syria, New Guinea, occupied Japan and the Victory March in London). He has been there ever since. He and his wife Narelle are lovely, gentle people and we thoroughly enjoyed our stay there.

That stay included an attempt to climb Mount Warning. The track up is 4.4 km and we did walk 4.4 km, but that included the return trip. I did climb to the top in 1962, when I was 19 and in my first year of teaching. Now I've slipped to the latter part of that year: I'm 62 and not as agile. Indeed Heather and I were the oldies on the track that day, and as the path became more and more rocky and slippery and steep we began to consider our plight going downhill. It was indeed much more difficult and we were glad we stopped when we did.

From there we took a jaunt across the border into Queensland to see the Natural Arch.

Our return trip to Maitland had us travel south to Coff's Harbour, where we ignore the temptation to visit the Big Banana (one of the most tacky tourist traps in our experience) and tried instead to visit Gus's (our house sitter) parents in Corindi Beach. No one was home (or they had been warned) so we headed inland on the Waterfalls Way.

First stop was at Bellingen where the Bellinger (yes, they are spelt differently) River was in flood. We wanted to see this area as it was the location of the movie, "Oscar and Lucinda". then another drive of a lifetime (for me. For Heather it was another white-knuckler) up the narrow, twisting road to the top of the Range. The name of the highway became apparent as water spouted out of every crevice, some were trickles, others were raging falls. Our night was spent at the Dorrigo Hotel, famous for being the most modern hotel between Newcastle and Brisbane - a long time ago.

We visited several waterfalls on our way home on Australia Day: Dangar Falls, Ebor Falls; Wollumbi Falls (One of the highest in the southern hemisphere) and the Apsley Falls. Each was quite different, each spectacular because of the heavy rains over the last several days. (Lying in bed in Dorrigo listening to the rain, I became apprehensive as that town was cut off by floods when we tried to take that route in 2001)

Back in Maitland we are resting up, preparing for next week when we leave for Tasmania, and trying to care for my independent sister.