Completing the loop

Waking to the continuing sounds of the distant breakers whilst the early sun filtered through the windows was delightful, even more so when sitting up the view if the Bass Straight is there to behold.

The fishing boats were out there all night performing their assigned tasks to perfection  and around 10 am (after breaky and packing up) we stopped by to collect our Couldn'tbefresher prawns, packed them in the trusty cooler bag and trotted off home, whiling away the kilometers whilst being absorbed in the never ending chapters of the audio book. So self focused on the weeks adventure we both had a strange epiphany when stopping at a large roadhouse close to home, folks from all walks of life going about their normal Sunday arvo lives, the radio worked again, wow - the world we left a week ago is still here, totally unaware of our adventure, somehow we need to do a mind switch and get back into it.

And so a warm sunny Sunday arvo wrapped around us as we arrived home from the other direction to which we had left. The pooch was ecstatic to see us.

A nest of wasps somewhere nearby was also really keen on all the collected bugs whilst they were washed off and picked out of the grill on the jalopy. 

Offspring no.1+1 were very grateful for the fresh prawns and we had a wonderful evening consuming them on the back patio as the sun faded away through the bamboo - as will the euphoria of the weeks journey over the next while.

Lower still

 This blogger was flummoxed the evening prior - how come after crossing a huge mountain range the river in the town was flowing north, whereas surely all flows should now be heading southwards? This geographical pondering was sorted the next day through the realisation that Omeo is somehow still north of the ranges, so high up that there is still a significant way to get down as low as you can go.

The morning sky was a grey fog which had hardend the jalopy's yesterdays rear  windows collected dust into something that resembled cardboard. That was washed off with lots of (cold) kettle water. We then popped upwards to purchase
coffee and breaky vittals prior to taking a quiet stroll through town.

Omeo on a Saturday morning is as vibrant and electrifying as Sea Lake on a Tuesday morning. Aussie country towns in their raw state. It's wonderful. The art gallery girl said it can change in an instant when (as an example) a group of bike riders (motor not lycra) arrive. Considering she appeared to be the the artists muse adorning the walls its not surprising that things would get interesting in that case, however the only real excitement was when a ute carrying two kelpies went past barking a hello to the kelpie in the Op shop who subsequently ran out (kelpie style) to say hello back. Its only because we have a kelpie that we picked this interaction up as a highlight, calmed the Stay At Home down and to tell to him stay and not follow us. Stay..good word that. Any good Kelpie knows what it means.
Heading off towards the coast was the epiphany of the geographical location of Omeo. Up a bit and then down, down and more down though indescribably beautiful valleys with rivers showing the engineers where to build their roads. Didn't stop to get pics as the audio book drama was building and we were on a roll.
And so as the clouds/fog lifted we followed the Tambo, rolled through Schitts Creek (!) turned left at Bruthen and cruised through Nowa Nowa on the way to Lakes Entrance. This was a fabulous drive through beautiful countryside.

Our last abode for this adventure sits high up overlooking Bass straight with green foliage leading down to the golf course at the eastern end of the towns estuary in between. Can't complain about the view, the facilities, the generosity of the host, or indeed the whole ambiance of the localle.
I'm penning this on the balcony of our room with the sounds of the surf rolling in,  their waves carried by the soft easterly breeze with the Milky Way in all it's splendor above, the Southern Cross is showing exactly where mariners over the centuries have focused on and out to sea the lights of our tomorrow nights diner harvesters are illuminating the depths below.
Prior to now, we parked said jalopy at one end of the inland arm, unloaded the foldups and treddled our way along the the paths upon which the locals had specifically built for this purpose. Build it and they will come they said. And so they did. And then we did. And thus the cycle is complete. Via the bicycle. Wheels go around, so does life, and thus we have metaphors.
Whilst we were thoroughly enjoying our leisurely cruise along the waterfront, philosophy was not top of mind. The sun was shining, the sky was a totally pristine blue and everyone and everything seemed to be basking in a warm glow of happiness. Even the people on the path who needed to be "dinged" three times eventually turned and eyeballed with a smile on their face. Managed to word up a dude in a fishing boat to head out that night and catch some fare for us to take home fresh tomorrow so we can consume it in the leafy surrounds of Surrey Hills.Jolly good of him to agree to this contract however this is his livelihood so one must do as one must.
Commuting by foldups is a really good way to go. We stopped at the bakery for lunch (they sell award winning pies, just like Beechworth, Mansfield and Loch do as well...hmm maybe a ponder for another post) and then popped over the footbridge to snap a 90 mile beach pic. It was good to see the SLC have everything set up.

Not unsurprising that no one was in the drink considering the awesome floatable play structure some genius had constructed on the inland arm.
Sure the water is a bit tepid, but if you don't swallow it, look at all the fun you can have. Could've.. Would've...
So we peddled back to the car, packed em in and went home to prepare to go out again.
Our host at the B&B is tireless in her  to the job and happily drove us into town on time for pre`s in the elevated RSL function room ( because it had a view and commandering things is to the heart of the RSL ) it seemed ok to us that we'd crash their empty function room enjoying the view whilst we whiled away the time awaiting for our dinner booking to appear on the timepieces.
Got away with it we did. The dinner on the floatable consuming a quality chefs interpretation of what the area can deliver was amazing. Surrounding the gastronomical experience was the light of the disappearing westward sun which (whilst it was missing clouds to play colouring highlights) with was subdued and thus masterful in its ability to cast a continual changing broad based washed pallet of intermixed hues, reflected off the water and into the consumers senses.

It was a fantastic end to an awesome week. Tomorrow we head home through the significantly boring Latrobe Valley. There may be a bookstop pic of a kelpie to round it off. 

Highs to lows

Our view through the open blinds overnight showed dim outlines of the vista sullenly lit by the late half moon on the far side of the cloud cover that was threatening to derail the next days activities. "Despair not" said the sun as it whipped over the horizon and slowly but surely blew all vestiges of visible vapor away.

Over breakfast on the upper level we got to witness this interaction whilst chowing down on our included continental breakfast before heading into town in order to set up the first of the days poor planning experiences. Had thorough prep been done we would've known that the journey to the top could've been done whilst we hung around for the dress shop to open, never mind though, being on holidays means not caring too much about stuff. In the meantime a stroll down to the lake revealed that even the lower sites of the caravan park were flooded. As mentioned previously this appears to be a failure somehow...the lake has an uncontrolled spillway. If the water reaches a certain level - over it goes, cascading into the Snowy river and if there's enough of the stuff will end up stuffing up the surrounds of Orbost. Seems really strange people would put caravan sites, pathways and playground equipment where the hight of the tide is actually well known. So much for leaving ponderings in the capital..

Leaving this conundrum behind we headed up the smooth winding roads to the upper reaches of the continent passing a smidgen of lycra clad wheelies on the way. Tomorrow they close down all the roads in the area and let these strange creatures have a free-for-all all day long as they swarm over the hills like sugar ants following trails, all in hurry, passing each other one way, almost colliding with oncomings yet always dodging each other at the last instance. Admittedly ants don't have support structures like refreshment tents, portable rest rooms and ambulances... then again maybe they do.
Our main joy about all if this is that we were not affected by the whole affair and managed to get a view of Kosciusko in the distance and appreciate the true beauty of the high plains with a clear blue sky reflecting the pristine clear waters of the creeks which eventually turn into majestic rivers.

That peak over there is now on the bucket list.
Back into town to attend the now open shop we then set off along the Alpine way in order to get to Omeo via Corryong. Lots of winding roads, spectacular scenery, from high mountain tops down to clear rivers carving forest lined steep valleys, this is one spectacular drive.
After a brief pit stop at a riverside camp and a picture view of one of the many hydro stations that opened all this area up we eventually hit some flat earth, green pastures and some straight stretches where we crossed a very different (preferable) Murray River and back into the police state (the signs infer this).
Everything was going swimmingly, smooth roads, beautiful scenery, no traffic and then up the end of the valley a sign said "Gravel road - next 62 km". And it all turned to shite.
This was not like the straight smooth dirt roads we'd experienced in the flat outback plains of NSW that one could hurtle along with careless abandon. These were covered in sharp tyre slashing rocks that needed to be carefully navigated (unless of course you are a large truck or truck tyre bearing type of 4WD).
These parts had been decimated in last years catastrophic fires and are now showing signs of rejuvenation, however the hills still have an unhealthy smear of grey from the distance which up close is all the dead trunks showing through the new foliage.

High up, on the top of the ridges snapshots of the classic blue hills and valleys overlapping each other in different shades of the colour were glimpsed at, however we didn't stop to pause and take it in as the road was too demanding, the dust all consuming and the threat of a hurtling monster using the same track was too daunting.
Suspect the road had been recently redone after the fires and needs some time to settle in. We rejoiced when when the gravel turned back to bitumen and then cursed when it changed back again around the next corner. This kept happening, over and over again as if the engineers who look after the strip were just having fun with us.
"Hey I know Bob - what say we just seal this bend and then more around that corner - just to get their hopes up - and then we go back to sharp rocks again - just to bring em down again" ?
"Ah Bill, love your thinkin' - I'll go get the grader. High five mate" Laughs all round.
Through all this malicious emotional road making manipulation we stayed sane by listening to an audio book. After all, we have an Outback and are beyond such couth behaviors. Eventually though the bitumen persisted, we landed on the valley floor, passing trees turned to grass and the speed went up to cruising mode.
Covered in dust, physically spent we limped into Omeo, unable to read clearly written signs and yet eventually found the room into which we unloaded.

A quick recon on the foldup revealed a disturbing sculpture just around the corner. Is there no escape from this?
Omeo seems strangley quiet for a Friday night in country town, a delicious meal in the pub across the road was punctuated by a nice old dude who passed on his unwanted (much appreciated by us) garlic bread and the farewell by one of the locals to the barmaid "Thanks Jess.. I'll be thinking of of you as I watch my movies tonight" Laughs all round.
You had to be there. We were.

Up into the mountains

 First up was a personally delivered perfectly brewed coffee delivery to our room from offspring no.2. A unique way to start the day and one that will certainly be remembered for a long time. The company was fabulous and as she headed of to WFH (the covid driven option these days in these parts) we kicked the well oiled packing machine into gear and then headed off to a local nursery to gift some greenery to her new abode as way of thank you and dont forget about us as you continue your maturity journey.

The Canberra suburbs in this area are strikingly green, well kept, well planned and appear to be almost utopian as a result. One could almost settle here, however one would need to live in the shadow of the previously described metaphoricals and indeed exist purely because of them. A juxposition that many locals probably don't consider and just get on with their symbiotic livelihoods and vote according to their needs. Thus democracy remains strong.
Time enough in our political bullseye and we left behind the beautiful land of wierd dreams and strange ponderings and set off up into the mountains in order to clear our heads and check out the high plains.
The drive up the valley through Cooma to Jindabyne is extremely picturesque - the highlight being the rocky plains - we arrived at the destination expecting cold and got warmth.

It's actually warmer up here than down in the place we just left. More weirdness to run away from. This town is defined by the lake. Indeed it exists because of the lake. The original town is actually somewhere in the lake. Somewhere along the way the engineering went slightly astray, shown by recently installed playground equipment as well being actually in the lake.

Walking around the town one gets the sense it's here for the skiers. This is based on the fact that pretty much every shop sells ski gear. However the senses start to get seriously distorted when most cars are carrying mountain bikes, there are rows of mountain bikes lined up on the footpaths, there are bikes being ridden everywhere, we even spotted a huge group of kids doing some sort of after-school mountain bike class in the park by the lake, surrounded and guided by their obviously mountain bike riding parents. Short little legs peddling furiously in their lycra coverings trying to escape though the carpark with dad cleverly rounding up from the outside like a kelpie not letting the herd get out of hand.
The place has gone mountain bike riding nuts. Probably made worse by the introduction of E-bikes which allows all shapes, sizes and ages get involved. The visual of a significantly overweight MAMIL gliding effortlessly up the hill past us was almost enough to drive one back to the bar to get another Kosciusko Pale Ale (direct from vat to tap!).
Feeling out of place (i.e. wearing jeans in the heat, not having mountain bikes) we left the foldups in the boot and instead planned the evenings festivities.
Apertifs were held on a balcony overlooking the carpark, beyond which was the fabulous views of the lake with the surrounding hills forming a framework upon which the clouds slowly built their complexity of rain making structures in the colourful sunset.

The perfectly planned booking for dinner was pretty much upset by the restaurant swapping our prime positioned table for two with a table for ten that subsequently blocked our serene views of the lake with jeans covered behinds and loud innane conversations that got louder and more inane every time a jeans covered behind delivered a new drink to the seat it subsequently landed in.
Leaving as quickly as we could we stopped off at local establishment 20 meters down from the accommodation and thoroughly enjoyed their home produced products in the tin shed surrounded by happy souls partaking in the extraordinary efforts of 3 flat out hosts.
Tomorrow we hit the high plains (we are so close you can almost feel them).

Capital Politics

Woken by the sounds of warbling magpies was a pretty good start to a darn good day. The accommodation was quickly tidied up after an in house breaky (astutely provided by us) and then we hit the road through the rolling hills of the Gundagi area. A very rich and fertile landscape compared to what we experienced the day before. Slowly working out the technology in the vehicle (competing devices vying for the attention of the console) we finally got stuck into an audio book when the melb local radio ran out of delivery options.

And so the 3 hours rolled by effortlessly, the first stop in the capital was the view from the tower on Black Hill. Closed... with no explanation.

Even more profoundly so when peering through the smoky glass doors to see what the inside might have been like, the tradie on the inside said "Sorry mate, it's closed"
"Do you know why?"
"No" and walked away
Suspect that was easier for him than actually articulating a sentence. Let alone a reason for his existence.
Certainly a first world annoyance, beyond that ....what else can we expect from the countries leading communication provider in the heart of the nation?
Canberra is sure easy to get around and in no time at all we were comfortably imbedded in the serviced apartment. Whilst non-blogger scorned the pool and slept, blogger hopped on the bike and peddled up to Subway to grab lunch.
In the last few hours of our warm balmy weather days we then headed around the corner, up the hill to the second child's new abode. This was the primary reason for heading this way and without a doubt a worthwhile effort.

After spending a quiet catch up on the expansive deck surrounded by flowers, we all jumped back in the jalopy, dropped it off at the overnighter, hopped on hire scooters upon which we scooted down to Kingston town for a couple of bevvys and a catch up - surrounded by the hip and happenin' throngs in the salubrious waterfront.
The sun sank, the wind got cold, the runners drank their gallons of beer and departed with their metabolism's in confusion, as did we move on to the north side of town. On the way a quick walk past the picturesque edges of the lake.

The fading light behind the grey clouds highlighting the (closed) tower on the hill whilst projecting enough luminescence to show the sea gulls (?) hanging around the waters edge, paying no particular attention to the large bloated carp floating sideways in its rigomortis state or indeed to the large water rat paddling furiously along the edge seemingly anxious to get out of the algae infested liquid but unable to due to the foot high vertical wall upon which we were standing. Time to move on and start talking politics.
Ubering our way over to the happenin' city side of Lake Blue Green we had a fabulous culinary experience filled with wonderful insights into our offsprings new life. It's great to see her settling in and making her way in life.
A short uber back home (whilst passing the lit up houses of metaphorical rodents) saw the end to a great evening out.

Cutting across

There is no doubt that Sea Lake on an early Tuesday morning is the epitome of the quiet country town. One can only assume that it comes alive at some point (possibly trading hours...whatever) after securing take away coffee and questionable edibles we shot off down the Calder at exorbitant speeds (they can do 110 up here yet down south 80 is the new norm.....why?) tracking the train line littered with yet more unadorned silos. From now until evermore an unpainted silo is will be seen to be a wasted opportunity.

The direction southward was an extra leg on a long day on the road, yet worth it because the depiction was very close to home ... a focused Kelpie forever looking outwards to the next adventure on the behest of its guider.
A very interesting criss cross of country roads was then undertaken. As most of the highways generally seem to spoke out of olde Melbourne town, cutting across the top of the state from an obscure locale to somewhere in the general direction of the capital was a navigators challenge. Luckily for us there is a thing called Google Maps which can help here. Unluckily for us the internet is not fully available whilst traveling the barren distances of the back roads which adorn our vast brown land. Have no idea what our forebears did ...except maybe their expectations were not to spend only one day to travel between Sea Lake to Wagga Wagga (via Nullawil).

Experiencing a transition from the dry Wimera to the less dry Riverena was fascinating (if you could be bothered to notice the difference in vegetation and the fact that there is irrigation everywhere) we passed through Kerang, stopped on the banks of the Edward in Deniliqin for lunch (they have a thing about utes here) and headed off at the total unwarranted behest of our apps to cut through the radiating lines of roads without bothering to query their logic. Yay for technology! (So we assumed)..
We survived...
Possibly may have got there 5 minutes earlier but only through some serious desert rally driving and a sheer determination to get to the pool on time for a cooling dip.

Under a significant Big Sky we pushed the Outback through the outback where the bitumen turned to miles of dirt, grids replaced fences and AM radio replaced podcasts. Beautiful country and an experience to remember was the outcome.
Apart from one unfortunate instance where the voices fronting the maps lost their bearings in a one cell town (horses no longer count) all went well and with a controlled disregard for speed limits (very quiet and well built roads justifying behaviors) we arrived at our pool fronted and exceptionally well appointed B&B in perfect time to realize that no eateries exist in the locale, so it was up to us to fend for ourselves.

Henceforth ensued shopping, swimming (in a blue enhanced cooler with the setting sun spiking through the palms pasting a dazzling display of mirroring reflections), BBQing, and a spa sesh before the inevitable crashing, exhausted but happy in the contemplation that we'd survived the longest drive of the trip.

Sussing out the Silos

A full day on the road through the wheat bealted Wimmera whilst touching the Mallee was an effortless yet eventful affair. After brecky at another Cafe we bade farewell to the fallen giants and headed north into the wilderness of the wide flat brown land in search of painted monoliths.

First stop was the very impressive pole shed. Named (possibly by marketing agents) as the Stick Shed it is a lasting remnant to the cleverness of our last war era forebears. More poles than you can poke a stick at.
We then headed off through the flat plains of Malcom's territory slowly coming to the understanding of why life is not meant to be easy. This is a harsh land with a harsh climate and the soil is baked and blown away by our clever attempts to bend it to our will.
The silos are strategically located along the train lines with the obviously smart engineering of providing local storage pending collection into rolling stock. They dominate the skyline and are prolific. This is the wheat belt after all, so it's not unsurprising that there are heaps of these out here.

A few years ago a bright spark had the notion of using them as canvases thus creating a whole new industry for the area. Tourism. Who'da thunk. And so we travelled the mostly well made (but sometimes narrow with rough edges) roads slowly heading north and taking snaps of the artists efforts to capture the feel of the land, the people and their relationship to each other along the way.
Absolutely fascinating and a very pleasant day out. A significant variety of thought processes and execution is on display. We literally had the whole trail to ourselves. Thus we could take snaps without some annoying stranger getting in the shot.

The landscape started to get very interesting around Patchewallock as the Mallee started to show it's wares, unfortunately though time was against us and the pool at Sea Lake beckoned so we skipped Snow Drift and headed south east only to be attacked by possibly the most vicious march flies on the planet at Lascelles. Interesting conundrum... take the photo whilst being bitten in multiple places at once or hightail to the safey of the car whilst spinning appendiges like a dervish.
After that heart racing experience, it was a short hop from the Sunrasia to the Calder where the really impressive Sea Lake mural was a highlight as was the cooling dip in the motel pool. Which we had to ourselves.

Following that we sussed out the situation at lake Tyrrell. Having the heat baked salt lake to ourselves was great but way too uncomfortable to hang around. Back to the local rubberty for Pizza night (Monday - restaurant closed) another quick cooling dip before heading back up to the lake to catch the famous sunset whilst enjoying the squealing cackle of excited tourists overriding the imposing stillness that has been a feature of this place for millenia.
Curiously, as soon as the the sun dropped below the horizon (no green flash) so did the noise levels. Native flocks of galahs behave in the same manner, not sure of the connection there - but it could be primordial.

And so back to the hotel, which being on the outskirts of town is somewhere between 8th an 10th gear on the B-doubles. Needless to say we hear every cog spinning freely before the clutch kicks in. Not complaining though. It really is beautiful place situated in an extraordinary landscape.

Into the heart of the Grampians

Gariwerd never fails to impress. The ancient rock formations give up their stories of millions of years of formulative history through layers of wethered exposure, bared for any astute observer to read. The majority of tourists through the place are happy enough just to have conquered the journey to the Pinnacle without bothering to consume the historical messages sent through time thrown at them as they pass by - being more focused on sore muscles and how far it is to the top.

The Grand Canyon was closed (due to a structural issue which has taken more than 2 years to resolve) and due to the number of passing inhabitants Silent Street was actually the noisiest part of the whole journey.
Simply spectacular are apt superlatives. We did manage to loose our way and start to do some serious rock navigational skills before realizing our error. Pretty funny although a tad disconcerting. The views at the top are simply awesome, the vertigo heart thumping and the experience priceless.

Due to aging knees we took the long, easier route down and being thankful for the walking sticks collected on the way up managed to slowly decend without injury.
Back in town and a quick refreshment we mounted the bikes and went up yet more hills to Lake Bellfield. A destination. Where the bike track goes to. Thats why we went there. No other reason. On the way back we stopped at a place that sold drinks, art stuff and had possibly the coolest mini golf course ever. We partook in the first, perused the second and scorned the third. And then cruised on the bikes into town for a long protracted dinner watching the sunset slowly wash away the details of the monolithic structures that will continue to dominate the skyline long after the race of we mere mortals will be able to appreciate.

The kangaroos hopping by to nibble the grass in front of us was pretty cool. The air was warm, the staff were friendly and the bike ride home in the twilight was much easier on weary legs than walking would've been. A big day. Yay for Halls Gap!

Halls Gap

After 2 long years of pandemic induced stayathomefolks we get to venture out into the wide world again. Unfortunately due our western kin deciding that a breakaway nation is a cool notion we can't spend this week swimming in the crystal clear waters of the southern WA coastline and have to swap close up with white pointers with close ups of kangaroos, emus and kookaburras at Halls Gap. Victoria. Australia.

"Travel the world young man" they said "for there be rich experiences which will make one become a wise person". Yeah right...Thus we are forced to endure the joys of our own back yard for the next week, and after a pleasant 3.5 hour drive we landed in the Grampians and promptly secured a seat in trendy brewery to while away the time before dinner at local pub, a drop in stroll through a textile market (where the locals sell products made from textiles - as compared to the raw textiles which was another event around the corner, down the road, apparently).

Followed by a very pleasant stroll through the milling touristy throngs to devour an ice cream whilst the warm desert breeze slowly cooled as the suns power diminished and the impressive rock ridges that dominate the skyline slowly darken and loose their detail. They are still there, whether they are visible or not, looming over us all, immovable, foreboding, and thus enticing...tomorrow we venture within....