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....

Hideaway to Home

Another quiet start with no humanity noise seeping in from outside the hut. A little seedy from yesterday's activities however that was soon washed away by the crisp clean air. The pack up and cleanup went well. After nursing the groceries in we now had to nurse the rubbish and recycling out. Literally could not pack another item into the car, however we managed with the vehicle bottoming out on the gravel as we wound our way up and over the artist's palletted hills. All is quiet in these parts on a Monday morning with the only people spotted being the grader driver and a few Probis types in cars and on mountain bikes. Really keen they were to tackle these roads. Heading back into Greytown for a cuppa and browse the weather slowly turned. By the time we were heading back up the "hull" it was bucketing down and blowing a gale. With the steep sides looming above and disappearing below it is easy to see why they sometimes close this road. Motorbikes would be in serious trouble.

Adrienne did a fab job of negotiating it and getting back to T&H's to say farewell. Helsa and Paige then took us to the airport via the tooting tunnel. Great local joke/game. She scored an 8. We got a laugh, especially as we had seen it on Wellington Paranormal just a few days ago. One last blast of Wellie wind at the airport, more farewells from our Tikitour guides and onto the plane. Just occasionally you get lucky. In this case the only vacant seat was next to us...woo hoo! No cramped conditions so a very comfy trip home. Greeted at the airport with Izzy and Tai. Lou'd cooked dinner and thus the fam is complete. Great end to a great trip.

Tasting Martinborough

Waking to the sounds of bleating sheep is surely an experience us city slickers never really consider as a daily routine. Stuck up here in the wilderness with no internet, no phone access and (as we discovered) no car battery power it really did seem as if we active participants of the global society were marooned in a wilderness with no way out except to go bush Ricky Baker style. Luckily the owner of the joint (Ross -sans singlet revealling sunburnt neck) was happy to and thoroughly effective in getting the caboose going. Taking the advice of Ruth (the other half of our accomodators) we headed off to Martinborough via the local "shortcut". It's decisions and the subsequent consequences like this that make travelling so enjoyable. We wound our way over brook and dale, opening and closing gates, rounding up the sheep flashing their various coloured behinds at us as they raced along ahead.

The landscapes were a plethora of picture postcard craggy ridgetopped green hills with lush valleys creating leading lines of visual perspectives the type of which the professional photographers tend to wet themselves over. No stuffing around for us though, we didn't stop to capture every picturesque scene as we were on a mission. Martinborough beckoned. We just had find our way out of the maze of mountains that we'd managed to imbed ourselves in. It took a while, one instinctive wrong turn quickly overridden by the only other people seen all morning (which was lucky). Eventually the gravel turned to bitumen, the ground turned flat and the Taste of Martinborough Festival was duly consumed by us 5 Musketeers and 8000 others. It was a big day. The locale has a heap of vineyards, each of which sells their grappa, plus food, plus entertainment. Frequent shuttle buses move the happy crowd around the circuit. As the day goes on the crowd gets happier. Go figure. We managed to do half the circuit. Great fun. Pretty much a first world event with first world people being happily ensconced in their first world situation. If this is what our heroes in the wars fought for then good on them. Thanks guys.

There was plenty of merryment, lots of music (rhythm and melody), dancing, smiles on people's faces and a wonderful vibe permeating throughout. Suspect that the combined positive energy being created kept the threatening deluges away all day. We left on closing via one last hilarious bus trip and then thanks to our able driver Teresa we scampered out of there. Stopping at Greytown on the way (yes it is predominately grey and very likable) for a boost we then headed back up into the hilly, winding roads to eventually get back to the isolated, thoroughly welcoming abode that is our home for 2 nights. Your Blogger went for an exploration through the sheep track defined bush down to the river as the light faded away whilst the non bloggers cosied up on the couches in their PJs to watch an historically relevant DVD.

Everyone happy - except the disappointing ending. Unbeknownst there was a second disk lurking in the case. LOLs the next day when they figured that one out.

Over the "Hull" and into wilderness

Up early. Well only "early" for those not on holidays. In this case your blogger was up well before non-blogger to watch our young host play under 15s softball. Fabulous and exciting.

Watching Zach hit a home run, which subsequently the whole game really opened up was well worth enduring the strong cold wind that was defining the experience. The wind kept defining the rest of the day. Once we got our gear (and act) together five of us crammed into Adrienne's caboose and headed of over the real "hull". This hill is what the locals fondly refer to as a seriously significant roadway carved out of steep slopes over the top of big mountains in order to open up the lush green pastures of the east of the north island. On a windy day (which it was) you could almost hear the wicked joys of laughter from the wind spirits as they whipped past the avid listener on the peak knowing they'd be soon heading down to Mt. Victoria to pick up more unprepared tourists and deposit them somewhere in the Straight.

Locals drinking beers whist driving and experiencing the same moment in time may have missed the nuances of the situation. They will find their own fate. Once down on the flat green lowlands we headed over to Martinborough to checkout the morrows layout as well as brunch, gift and vittals shopping. With the car even more loaded (by now everyone had supplies on their laps) we went into an exploration into nowhere land. The landscapes were fabulously articulated with high rolling green hills, pretty valleys, sheep, cows, wierd scarecrows (competition underway) and the sound of dueling banjos starting to resonate in one's head. And so with all comms to the outside world lost we arrived at our absolutely fabulous accommodation in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Surrounded by braying sheep from nearby steep hills, big trees, bright green pastures. Yes there are fences. Give it a year and they'll start to be rustic. It was renovated a month ago so practically brand new. Miles and miles away from the wine festival but an amazing place to land nevertheless.

Hamburgers for dinner and more stories of first world problems with the occasional reference to 3rd as well just to make sure we are grounded. Oh yeah....and more wine in order to make sure the truth is spoken.

A day in the museum

Waking in Waikanae it was a leisurely start to another sunny day. Before too long Helsa arrived to take us back down to Wellington where luggage was off loaded and a trip to the museum was in order. Being the main PC activity of the day it was many hours well spent and will leave an indelible mark on all participants as we continue our journey forward.

Lest We Forget is three simple words with so much power and meaning. The Gallipoli exhibition explores how this message can continue to be passed on through the generations.

Before that one though Paige and Taine guided us geriatrics through the standard local pieces which were simply outstanding. The highlights being the volcano, the earthquake house and the confetti room. After a 2nd refreshments stop in the cafe for lunch we ploughed into the Gallipoli extravaganza (possibly the wrong descriptive) which was amazing, depressing, exhausting, exhilarating and most of all highlighting. Highlighting the fact of how sheer stupidity can result in such far reaching consequences. The 7 key sculptures are twice the size of reality yet with such fine detail that when that detail is examined closely the emotion being experienced by the subject is also conveyed. The chronological story of the folly is told on the way through and by the time we stumbled out of the place it was hard to express what we had experienced. Lest we forget.

Well done to our Kiwi mates for bringing this to life so vividly. After a hop back up to home Todd generously took us back into town and watched the Musketeers gorge into food and wine whilst he had to resist. More heroics greatly appreciated. Sending him off home we hung around the cool trendy parts of the city, enjoying lots of ambience combined with laughs, reserved table snatching and struggling with hidden doors that allow one to exit from libraries converted into bars. Needless to say the taxi ride home was pretty funny.

Around Waikanae

It's really nice to be imposing in other people's lives (ie their houses) as they are generous enough to let you sleep in whilst they continue with their daily routine. No pressure. You're on holidays. Welcome to NZ. Relax. Enjoy. Even if the whole household is sleeping in different beds.

Our first outing was off to a private olive farm which is accommodating Adrienne and Mike's caravan (too longa story for this blog). Really interesting to see a budding enterprise with cute little lambs running around their mums underneath the olive groves. On the way back we stopped at THE local celeb chefs home based farm/cottage/entrepreneurial enterprise. The place was absolutely choc-a-block with a bus load of Probis members enjoying the beautiful surrounds of the glasshouse tea rooms, magnificent coffee and Ruth's special treats. So this is what the well-off retired get up to whilst the rest of the world is busily trying to keep the economy going... Justifying our presence by being on holidays (!?) and a generation younger (?!) we also soaked up the ambience and then strolled around the herb garden, taking obscure snaps of olde-worlde fences that have that particularly special characteristic of being in the country.

Back home to collect the kids the tribe then headed off to a local conservation park in which dedicated souls are trying to preserve a small slice of the local wetlands flora and fauna. We actually saw a real kiwi which was a highlight, although so dark no clear pictures were possible. Whilst the eels were not pretty to look at they have a fascinating life story of which the local human invasion is totally disrupting.

Afterwards we sped over to the local mall for a spot of shopping and a late lunch before back home again for pre's. A delightful dinner at a nearby tavern with the fam and afterwards swapped stories and music before collapsing into a blissful slumber.

Driving Around

We spent the day on the road checking out the surrounds of the Greater Wellington Region courtesy of our Tikitour guide Helsa. First up was across the top of the sound and up over the "hull" just to turn around and come back over to stop at the view on the top. The day was subject to a northerly breeze. Up here it was strong enough to turn umbrellas inside out and yet still Mary Poppins the holder to a destination somewhere in the Southern Antarctic ocean. Luckily it wasn't raining so the brollies stayed in the car.

A coffee break at an extraordinary eclectic cafe on the waterfront was so retro the retro was retro. An original coffee roaster was actually in full production amidst the hustle and bustle of relaxed locals of Lower Hutt. Off through the city to the southside we circled the headland with mount Victoria lookout on the top. The 360° panoramic view is spectacular, as was the wind picking up the tourists and depositing them in the Cook Straight. The scenic route around the waters edge revealed rock lined coves with pristine waterways with rugged mountains framing the horizon.

Ever more houses perched on cliff tops and waterfronts showing a significant number of locals are living the life that is to be the envy of the majority of the planet. Photo stops aplenty. Around the waters edge we drove and then back up the top of a yet even more impressive mountain with a seriously vertigo inducing wind turbine perched up there. The swooshing blades in the hurricane like breeze made one feel like decapitation was a mere heartbeat away.

After giving a lift to a couple of weary hikers back down the hill we stopped at an avant' guard cafe for refreshments before heading back up the west coast to Waikanai for a sleepover at Adrienne and Mike's. Another fun evening proceeded another fabulous dinner, rounded off by some hilarious local TV black comedy.

Walking around

Potentially the best weather day of the week was made the most of by being out and about by foot ably directed by our Tikitour guide Helsa. A lush green canopy below the spectacular abode covers the steep slopes all the way to the water far below.

With modern day houses perched on the crests above, the canopy hides a wonderland of ecosystems, nicely linked by recently made paths that make exploring the area very accessible. Helsa showed us around the area by plowing downwards into the greenery below her house and we gently lowered ourselves over and through the vegetation following roughly defined tracks and we were subsequently in awe of the effort people have gone to over the the years in order to carve their own little piece of history into the hillsides. And then ever so quickly nature comes along and erases it all. The trek through the forest and beyond revealed a myriad of vistas out over the waters and to the high mountain peaks beyond. Skirting the steep hillsides we kept popping up into yet another new estate perched on the top and eventually wound our way back over to home. An amazing back yard anyone would love to have.

We then piled into the car with Sam and picked up Paige (ex English exam) on the way into town. The walking tikitour continued as we explored the sight, sounds, steep hills, smells and other sensory soak ups of downtown Wellington. Dumplings for lunch with disinterested staff were great and then headed up the hill via a freeway disrupted cemetary, botanical gardens, sculpture park to the observatory covered hilltop and then a splendid cable car back down into the heart of the city.

Cuba street is full of eclectic people and shops. We refreshed ourselves in Fidel Castro's cafe before wandering down to the waterfront for a relaxing drink on beanbags whilst watching the local kids learn how to row in the inner harbor surrounded by art, sculpture, architecture, waterscapes, landscapes, blue skies and a warming late afternoon sun. Needless to say this was a memorable experience.

As the sun faded over the distant hills we headed back up to the palatial abode to have an all in cook up which was dutifully devoured as the waters of the sound below shimmered in the still evening air. No idea why they call the place windy....

Looking around

A bit of a sleepin helped catching up on the horrendous jet lag one experiences when crossing the ditch. Well that's the excuse anyway. After a brecky of vegemite on toast (think about it) we headed to the other side of the island, expertly chauffeured by our Tikitour guide Helsa.

The aim was to get out of the persistent rain as well as check out the local sights around southern west coast north island. SWCNI as locals refer to it...not really, but they should considering they use SWY to abbreviate "speedway" on their road signs. Collecting Adrienne from her wonderfully located abode in Waikanae we headed further north to Oktaki to do some shop grazing whilst the rain stopped and the sun started to win its never ending battle with the clouds. Interesting that a small sculpture of a sheep costs more than a real one.

A commando style stop at a lavender farm for a quick photo shoot was followed up with lunch at the local favorite pizza shop/bar/restaurant at the beach side escape locale of Waikane. A short stroll on an incredibly photogenic beach followed.

We then drove around the area taking in the sights and local playgrounds like the swimming hole in the river. Way too cold at the moment to even consider such activities. Shortly after we were rocketing back down the highway and back up to Newlands to cook a curry, have some laughs, discuss the world (when exams are on) and watch the light slowly fade over the calm waters of the sound. Fabulous.

Off to the land of the long white cloud

An easy uber to the airport with the only stress being the huge traffic jam dropping people off. Wierd. You'd reckon they'd have worked that out by now. Anyway, all good with the flight so short the latest Tarantino movie didn't even get to finish. Wellington is wet. Just like home. Actually catching the same cold fronts that go over concreted flat Melbourne. Wellington is windy and the roads are windy. Met at the arrival gate by our fellow Musketeers (Adrienne and Helsa ) we were driven through windy windy Wellington and headed up to the spectacular abode of Helsa and Todd (& kids) to soak up the awesome views across the bay and out towards Cook Straight.

We had a great night catching up as the rain steadily got heavier and overnight it torrented down. Unbeknownst to us, back across the ditch NSW was being blackened. The world is getting weirder.