GREGARIOUS GIPPSLAND

Rolling Green Hills Of The Gippsland

Miss me??!!  No...................oh well, never mind, I missed you so here I am.  Yes, it has been a little while since I regaled you with our adventures, so I guess this will take a little while.  Make sure you have your favourite libation at hand and a spare 30 minutes in which to take a seat and relax.

Last time I left you we were disembarking at the dock in Port Melbourne.  I think I may have mentioned that for the very affordable price of 50c the Spirit will provide a ‘mud-map’ out of Melbourne, and if one wishes, one that bypasses all the tollways.  This proved to be an excellent idea, as was the notion of arriving at the dock early Sunday morning.  The only hiccup was a well publicised industrial ‘action’ group at the dock which did slow things down just a smidge.  One of the ‘characters’ checking us out of the dock area did suggest we might want to ‘run down’ some of the protestors at the gates, but thankfully that degree of action was not necessary on our parts.  In reality it appeared that all parties were very well behaved and the protestors were not really causing any great degree of difficulty.

With considerable ease we left the dock area and headed in a generally eastward direction – the sun was not up, the traffic was reasonable and all went pretty much to plan.  We did make one small error missing a rather ambiguous turn off onto the Princess Highway, but we were able to rectify the mistake easily and found ourselves on Highway 1 heading towards our first stop in Moe.  Why Moe you might ask, yes, well......, many, many moons ago in a totally different life, I visited Moe with my first husband and two very small boys.  We stayed with my husband’s uncle and his wife.  I had some very fond memories of the area and our stay there.  In addition to this, we wished to visit my cousin, Brenda who lives in Yarragon with her husband George.  There is no caravan park in Yarragon and the next town is Moe.

The main reason for visiting the Gippsland region of Victoria, apart from a yearning to see this much praised region, is to catch up with no less than 3 lots of friends.  We had never previously had such a busy social agenda and looked forward to each of these encounters eagerly.

OK, before you move on, I have just finished writing this blog and it is ENORMOUS.....far worse than any previous effort, so....................I think I had better present it as eight different sections, each with its own photos etc.  I would suggest you read it a section at a time – I know I risk discouraging you from going on here, but I thought it only fair to warn you.  The sections contained within this blog are:

• ·         MOURNFUL MOE
• ·         WHIMSIKAL WALHALLA
• ·         TRAVERSING TRARALGON
• ·         YOKELS AT YARRAM
• ·         ANXIOUS AT AGNES
• ·         TIMELESS TARRA BULGA
• ·         PARADOXICAL PAYNESVILLE
• ·         MINGLING AT MALLACOOTA

Quaint Home At Walhalla

 MOURNFUL MOE

The Moe of my lovely misty memories sadly is no more.  The town now is a very sad shadow of the one I so fondly remembered.  There was of course, a dreadful and very sad death there several years ago now of a toddler whose body was found in a dam.  The whole sad story hit the press all over the country and it is still one of Australia’s saddest and strangest murders.  It seems the town has suffered along with everyone else.  A palpable sense of gloom seems to hang over the once pretty town. 

We elected to stay in the Moe Gardens CP and I have to say it was not one of our better choices – not that there was any other choice in Moe.  Admittedly, we did arrive early at the CP, somewhere around 9ish in the morning, totally amazing the very pleasant young woman looking after the office.  Once she had stopped being amazed, she directed us to a very muddy site right next to a permanent cabin.  We proceeded to set up camp as best we could in the muddy surrounds whilst keeping a weather eye on our dubious looking neighbour.  Any of you who know me well, will know with a certainty that I am not swayed or put off by appearances, but there was, I have to say, something about this bloke, that did put me on guard.  He rode a ‘go-fer’ around the park but was noticeably nimble once disembarked at his own cabin.  The hair was long and lank, the face was pale and peaked and not once during our stay did our neighbour manage to raise his eyes to say g’day.  Hmmm, none of that would have meant much except that DD made a comment about the number of young folk visiting his cabin for around 5 mins at a time.  Hmmm and double hmmmmm – suspicious to say the least!  Oh well, live and let live I guess, especially at our age and diminished capacity for self-defence.  We just kept our heads down and locked up tight when we left the van.  I do feel a little guilty, perhaps we should have mentioned our nasty suspicions to the local constabulary, but we were only there for a couple of days and we could have been totally wrong about the bloke.  He may very well have been a ‘real good bloke’ and could have been the local saviour for all we know.

As I mentioned, we were to visit my relative, Brenda while we were in the area.  Brenda, who is actually I think from memory (a very poor tool to use these days) my second cousin and is of my father’s generation rather than mine – although she is a bare few years older than me.  She and her husband George live in the very pretty little town of Yarragon, situated between Warragul and Moe on the Princess Highway.

I had never met Brenda before, but we had become avid ‘emailers’ since I had become aware of her endeavours to write one of the family histories.  This particular branch is the Yardley family and Brenda is compiling a brilliant Family History dating back to the 1600s or so.  Brenda puts an enormous amount of effort into these historical works of art and has had considerable success in the past with other family books.  We are looking forward to this one being published shortly.

Isn’t it funny, when you correspond with someone for a period of time, without any other contact, you form mental image of that person.  So I had done with Brenda – I imagined a very quiet studious lady with absolutely no sense of humour – brilliant but stodgy!  Well, it just goes to show how very, very wrong I can be (and often am) – the last thing one could possibly call Brenda is stodgy – brilliant yes, hard working, studious, intelligent, but in no way stodgy.  I was delighted that day to find a vibrant and very young minded individual, amazingly elegant, beautifully and tastefully dressed and just pinging with energy and enthusiasm. 

Brenda and her lovely (and rather quiet) hubby George, have a lovely and beautifully appointed home where they have carved out a graceful and occasionally peaceful life.  We were invited to lunch and were treated to a delicious meal and truly wonderful hospitality.  It was a shame that we were unable to stay a little longer, but by then not only did DD have the bit well and truly between his teeth, but we were just a tad anxious to move on from the CP at Moe.

Just Like Something Out Of A Train Set

WHIMSICAL WALHALLA

The one other thing we did manage to do whilst staying at the Moe CP was to drive up into the mountains to visit the old gold mining town of Walhalla.  The town sits in the rain forest leading up to Mt Baw Baw – a very pleasant drive of,  from memory,  some 50 or so kilometres from Moe this historical mining town is a step right back in time.  The tiny township has been well preserved/restored to something like its original beauty.  The sparkling Thomson River runs alongside the main road thru’ the town.  The buildings cling to the thickly wooded mountainside and tree-ferns cluster alongside the brook.  It appears that much of the original timber was cleared back in the 1800s when the town was first settled, and the bare hillsides were replanted with mainly European trees, largely birch and poplar – these now happily thrive alongside the native trees which have repopulated the steep slopes.

Clinging To The Hillside

An historic rail-line runs up to the town and the train still runs today for tourists.  The train travels thru’ some amazing countryside and finishes its run at the historical Thomson Station.  We didn’t avail ourselves of this particular train ride, but believe it to be well worth the effort if you are in the area at any time.

Poplars Marching Along The Roadside

We did stop for lunch and made a poor choice – the Cottage Pie we ordered was cold and we had to send it back for re-heating, it was not much better hot!  Oh well, I for once was going to opt for the healthier option of a bowl of home- made soup, but on this rare occasion it was DD who chose the ‘naughty’ pie – serves us both right I guess.

Wood-smoke Drifts Across the Stream

TRAVERSING TRARALGON

Huge Cooling Towers

Coal Mining

Feeling a little uncomfortable at the Moe CP we opted to move on fairly quickly to the large and fairly bustling town of Traralgon (you have to remember here we have just spent several months in quiet Tassie) – this time we stopped at the very upmarket Park Lane CP at Traralgon.  This was a Top Tourist Park and could not have been more different to Moe had it tried (and it probably did).  The park was as neat and tidy as any we have seen and as the sites were concreted and there was very little mud in sight.  It was therefore more than a little amazing that DD of all people, managed to spread his length on the road outside our van – he found the only inch of mud in the place and slipped.  In all the time I have known my bloke, I have never known him to even trip – he is as agile as a mountain goat (and often as stubborn).  Fortunately he didn’t hurt anything except his pride- I didn’t see the incident, luckily for him, but he tells me he ‘rolled’ well.

Our next ‘visit’ was to be to my long time very dear friend Kim – she and her other half live way up in the Strezlecki Ranges at a tiny little place called Carrajung.  I had not seen Kim for some 15 years and had been talking about a visit for many moons.  I was very excited to be finally catching up with my old mate.  Our friendship dates back to the good old, bad old days when we were both single and footloose free – having immense amounts of fun.  Boy, do we have some memories!

We decided to visit Kim from Traralgon and headed out one day to conquer the mountains.  I had warned Kim that we would be finally visiting but had not told her of the actual day and so when we arrived she was ‘down with the horses’ – serves me right for not telling her we would be there!  It did mean that I caught her on the hop and we had to come back for a proper visit.  The first visit was intended as a reconnaissance trip to see whether or not we could get the van into Kim and Frank’s drive- way.  We decided initially that it was a ‘goer’ but on reflection and in consideration of all the water falling out of the sky over her place, we eventually opted to just come for a visit.

Between visits to Kim and Frank we acquainted ourselves with the town of Traralgon – by WA standards as a country town it is huge.  The town is quite picturesque, and provides everything and anything you could possibly wish.  The main industries there are coal mining and power generation.  Immense concrete cooling towers dominate the landscape leading from Traralgon to the Strezleckis, pumping thunderous looking clouds of condensed water vapour into the chilly stratosphere.  The steam mists somewhat eerily around the verdant pastures surrounding the plant.

Aside from the coal industry the area is dedicated to farming, much of which is dairy orientated.  The rolling green hills are well stocked with herds of black and white Friesians interspersed with the odd alpaca, sheep and horse.  All in all the region is pretty and combines well the best aspects of industry and rural endeavour.

We decided to move down to the pretty little town of Yarram, Kim’s place in Carrajung being more or less half way between Traralgon and Yarram.  Although Traralgon was a nice enough town, it was a large town and we felt we needed to get away from the larger centres and into smaller communities.

From Maisy's Paddock

YOKELS IN YARRAM

Well, we are really yokels after all and were very happy to once again find ourselves in a pretty little country town.  Yarram personifies all that is sweet about country towns, including historically inclined buildings and not a few rather historically orientated humans. 

Once we had settled ourselves at the Rosebank CP in Yarram we headed off once again to visit Kim and Frank in their mountain retreat.  What an amazing place they have there.  Kim is an animal person (and then some) and shares her home with 5 dogs, 7 cats, 2 parrots and Frank.  I think both Kim and Frank would agree that is often the correct order!  In addition to these beasties, there are also the horses which generally live in a paddock with the best view in Victoria, just down the road from their home.

Armani - A True Blond (the only one who would stand still)

I wouldn’t be doing my job here if I didn’t tell you all about the critters.  The dogs comprise of 2 standard poodles, Armani and Lucky.  Armani is a typical blond (of the male variety) and Lucky is a Party Poodle, the first I have seen.  He is one of those special dogs one meets only once or twice in a lifetime.  The keenest intelligence emanates from those eyes and you immediately sense that here is a creature with exceptional abilities and sensibilities. Lucky was rescued from a Dog’s Home.  After these two delightful creatures, there is little Pumkin’, a mix of Pug and French bulldog and perhaps a smidge of something else as well.  The second time we met Pumkin she was wearing the doggy equivalent of a hot pink tutu – it seems she feels the cold and trust me, it gets cold up there in them thar hills. Kim’s latest addition to the canine family is Polly, an Australian Bulldog;  Kim has taken her under her wing so to speak as Polly previously lived with a Chihuahua which she decided looked appetising and blotted her copybook when she attempted to eat him.  As Kim has somewhat of a reputation as a ‘dog-whisperer’ she has taken over Polly’s care.  Last but by no means least of her doggy companions is little Phillip – Phillip is a small silver poodle who has not seen better days – he was a breeding dog and kept for 8 long years in a concrete cage.  He is totally blind and has only one ear as the rats ate the other one!  I know, it is a horrific story.  The only good news here is that little Phillip is now in a form of doggy heaven and has found a lovely home with Kim and all the other dogs.  Although he is blind, he follows the pack around by smell and sound – when they all go cavorting around the property, he follows after them joyously wuffing and thrilling in the freedom.  It is a treat to see him, albeit bitter-sweet.

A Couple Of The Local Girls

I didn’t really ‘meet’ any of the pussycats so won’t drive you nuts with their descriptions, suffice to say there are a collection of ‘doll-face’ Persians, Scottish-folds, British Blues etc, etc. There is an Electus Parrot called Cocoa who is quite sure she is hatching chicks despite the lack of a Mr Electus, and then there is Merlin the African Grey parrot.  Merlin has great capacity and a considerable vocabulary and he and Kim have long and quite involved conversations.  I don’t know if you know about the African Greys, but they are considered to be amongst the most intelligent of the parrots and have been known to hold significant and intelligent conversations with their owners.  Obviously Merlin considered me to be beneath his considerable dignity as he opted not to converse with me.  I have to say I was disappointed in his silent appraisal.

Kim’s life revolves around these wonderful creatures, her darling Frank and her horses.  The biggest love of her life I think tho’ is Maisy – a very large lass, beautiful and Clydesdale!  I was taken to meet this lovely lady and whilst not a rider of renown, not even a rider of no renown in fact, I can see why Kim loves her big girl so much.  Maisy’s paddock incidentally has the most amazing views from the top of the Strezlecki Ranges across the plains and down to the waters of Bass Straight!  Just stunning!

Kim’s mountain retreat sits in a beautiful little cottage garden which is rich in deciduous trees, ancient rose bushes and pink, white and purple violets; it is pretty in the extreme and the home itself is in Frank’s words a ‘work in progress’ and is well on its way to exemplifying Kim’s innate sense of style and beauty.

Kim and Frank came to visit us for afternoon tea while we were in Yarram so that they could see how we live our gypsy lifestyle.  For someone as home-based as Kim, I feel she had problems identifying with our way of life – there are no critters in our van and none to share our journeys.  We have to make do with O.Ps and nature’s contributions along the way – we are not complaining.

Our visit seemed to be over way too soon and I still feel like I didn’t really catch up with my old and much loved mate.  While we visited, Frank and DD entertained each other with stories long and elaborate in front of one fire, while Kim and I caught up with times past and present in front of another fire.  She and I will probably remember our discussions a little better than the blokes as we sensible like, had our discussions over a delicious cuppa whilst the blokes, delinquents that they are, told lies over a bottle of red.

I find it hard to find the words to express my feelings here – I was so looking forward to seeing Kim and somehow, having caught up, feel that we missed each other.  Perhaps we needed much longer or perhaps it is the putting to sleep the gaiety of youth that pervades my emotions.  As I said earlier, we did have some wonderful and very party orientated times and now we both find ourselves and each other in unfamiliar older bodies, established in our own relationships and lifestyles, eons away from those old lives.  I would like to think, that in both our cases, whilst our current lives are not necessarily as exciting as the old ones, they are in both cases much more comfortable and filled with love.

The little town of Yarram as I said is delightful and the CP there (Rosebank) was just beautiful.  Truly the prettiest CP we have ever stayed in – the gardens were a credit to the owners – magnificent Camellias of every hue mingled with a vast variety of colourful shrubs and I would say that in season the roses there would be magnificent.  The owner could not have been more helpful; she even walked us to our potential site when we arrived to ensure we were happy with the spot. The population of the town did seem to have more than its fair share of older folk, but that just added to the yesteryear charm of the place.

Yarram is situated in South Gippsland and from there it is just a hop skip and jump to a variety of scenic adventures.  Wilson’s Promontory is possibly the most famous and we took the opportunity whilst there to take a gander.

Wild, Woolly And Windy at Wilsons Promontory

Low Land Stream Wilsons Prom

ANXIOUS AT AGNES

We had some mixed weather whilst we were in this region but the day we were to visit Wilsons Prom (Prom Country) dawned sunny and bright and so we took off with great expectations.  The drive along the coast was delightful, the rolling and steep foot-hills of the Strezleckis robed in deep emerald green rolled away to our right whilst on our left the coastal flats stretched away to the blue grey waters of Bass Straight.  Predictably the hills and paddocks were accessorised with the black and white of the Friesian herds that graze those lands.  Fluffy white clouds skipped across the light blue of the Victorian skies.  I was a little concerned however as the hills of the promontory in the distance appeared rather muted and misted.  The trip to the promontory took us thru’ the picturesque little hamlet of Foster where we stopped for lunch on our return.

The closer we were to Wilson’s Prom the mistier things became and it soon became apparent that we were not going to have good visibility and photos were not going to be much of a go.  We drove thru’ as much of the promontory as possible and could see that on a good day the scenery would have been if not spectacular, at least worth seeing – sadly we saw very little.  The mist just sat there and despite a fair wind, did not budge or lift for our benefit – most irregular!!

Poor Visibility

Would Have Been Great On A Clear Day

Oh well, not to be denied, we moved back thru’ Foster and decided to explore slightly inland where we had seen a sign pointing to Agnes Falls.  Nobody had told us about these falls and so we didn't have any great expectations.  Well...........the drive in was spectacular, those same Strezlecki hills were now steeper and the hills, just so green, swooped and climbed around us, the clear silver of creeks slid sinuously along the deep and mysterious valleys between the busy hills, black and white cows outlined themselves in front of the blue skies, frogs called from waterholes and swans and ducks decorated mirrored dams along the way.

Outlined Against The Blue Sky

Silver And Sinuous

Arriving at Agnes Falls we found ourselves with a short albeit steep walk to see what is purported to be the steepest sheer waterfall in Victoria – no, I’m sorry I cannot remember what the drop was, but it was considerable.  The bits that we could see were wonderful, but sadly won’t translate very well in the photos as we just couldn’t get a photo of the whole waterfall.  The pathway only took us a short way down and the photo opportunities were limited.  As you will see there are some nice shots nevertheless.

The Top

The Bottom

Up Close and  Personal

TIMELESS TARRA BULGA

On The Way In - Caught In The Act

The other ‘must do’ from Yarram was Tarra Bulga National Park – this is a temperate rain forest at the peak of the Strezlecki Mountain Range and well worth the effort for anyone thinking of venturing there.  Once again we travelled thru’ those mesmerising green hills and into deep rain forest country.  We were inclined to think we were back in Tasmania except for the tree-ferns; these tree-ferns were of the giant variety, and no kidding, I do mean giant.  As at Walhalla, we had the company of a sparkling stream as we climbed higher and higher into the mountains; rocky rapids sparkling with fairy dust and fringed with soft ferns put us in mind of magical worlds away from the workaday world of man.

Our Little Lyre Bird 

Magical

The road was not for the fainthearted as it narrowly wound around hairpin bends and blind turns – frequently it was unsealed and was to say the least, challenging.  The Bloke took it all in his stride however, accustomed as he now is to these testing conditions.  As we climbed higher we saw the evidence of what must have been terrifying bush fires this last hot season.  The stark grey skeletons of the mountain ash lined the roadway and the hills and valleys off to one side bristled with prickly and charred remains of the giant trees turning them into huge and surreal echidna like mounds.

Skeletal Remains

On our way back thru’ the ferny and green track we were lucky enough to spot a Lyre Bird on the road ahead.  Poor little thing was a tad panicky and became a little frantic to escape up one of the steep road-side ridges as we approached.  We did manage to get a quick shot of him, but sadly it doesn’t really show him to advantage.  

No Kidding, This Is The Road!

There were numerous little picnic spots where you could pull over and have a cuppa, lots of walking trails and a couple of pretty waterfalls to enjoy along the way – all in all, Tarra Bulga was well worth a visit and we thoroughly enjoyed our drive thru’ the giant tree ferns.

It was wonderful to see this virgin bush set aside for man’s enjoyment, still pretty much in its original state.  I have a terrible confession to make tho’ – as much as I love visiting the rain-forests and truly appreciate their beauty and refuge qualities, I love too the stunning velvet green hills, carpeted in lush grasses and displaying the bare bones of the earth for all to see.  If I was a true ‘greenie’ I dare say I would decry the bits of those hills that have been cleared for pasture and bring down curses on the memories of those stalwart early white Australians who strove so hard to clear this land – happily for the shades of those worthy individuals however, I applaud their hard yakka and revel in the stark beauty of those hills.

Waiting For The Wee Folk

And The Giants

 PARADOXICAL    PAYNESVILLE

Hidden Corner At Paynesville

Have you any idea how big the Gippsland is?  It is immense; I have no idea just what sort of area it covers, but it seems to just keep on keeping on. Our next stop was the very picturesque town of Paynesville, just to the south of Lakes Entrance.  This part of the coast is known as the Riviera or the Boating Capital and boasts extensive lake and river systems which stretch for ever providing wonderful and safe waterways for the leisurely enjoyment of both residents and visitors.

We stayed at yet another brilliant CP this time the Resthaven CP – it was well recommended by mates and by mentioning their names we were offered an ensuite site at regular rates – needless to say we accepted with alacrity and I thoroughly enjoyed using their shower instead of ours for the duration of our stay there.  The manager at the CP, Collin, is a little bit tough to get going on the phone as it would appear that is not his forte but once you get past that, everything is fine.  Whilst we didn’t pick his brain while we were there, we have it on good authority he is a font of knowledge on all things local and probably well worth spending 30 minutes with.

Luncheon Floor/Water Show

And Then The Comedy Act

The main reason we went to Paynesville was to catch up with new chums Roz & Alan – we met these lovely folk at the Caravan Park at Port Campbell earlier this year.  Roz & Alan have only just made the big move to Paynesville having sold their home in Warburton.  They are essentially water dwellers and feel very much they have now ‘come home.’  We joined them for a delicious repast at the local Fisherman’s Wharf cafe/restaurant and then joined them for a sumptuous morning tea at their new abode the following day.  They truly spoiled us by finishing off our stay in Paynesville with an amazing meal the night before we left.  I take my hat off to them, particularly Roz as they have only really been in their new home for a couple of weeks and yet everything is a neat as a pin, serenity best describes their tasteful home and as hosts they were unparalleled. 

We stayed in Paynesville for one week and while there took several drives out and about.  

Iconic Lakes Entrance

And More

The first of these was up to the iconic Lakes Entrance – much like Paynesville but much bigger.  Either of these spots would make a pleasant holiday destination providing an abundance of motels and caravan parks.  The countryside between the two towns is pleasant, mostly green low rolling pastures, dotted with the very predictable cattle and well defined by a plethora of lakes, dams, rivers and creeks.

From our safe and sunny site in the Resthaven CP we also ventured up to ‘the snow’ at Mt Hotham.  I guess traversing the Western Tiers in Tassie possibly spoilt this for us a little as it did seem a little ordinary.  We were compelled to travel with chains in the car although we didn’t actually need to put them on – non 4wd vehicles did have to don the chains however and we spotted a victim of negligent chain disdain with its nose pointing towards the sky as it has skidded backside first off the slippery and icy road.

Car-sickles

Sick Car

We didn’t actually disembark from the warm confines of Zed when we arrived at Hotham and nor did we risk going west from there as the roads definitely appeared to deteriorate fairly quickly on the other side of the mountain.  It was interesting to see the ski lifts with the doubtless cold feet of skiers dangling in the frosty air, it was fascinating to see the mounds of snow decorated with excited windscreen wipers in the car parks and it was pretty scenery along the way with the snowbound snow gums casting blue shadows in the pristine white snow, BUT....we were quite happy to have a quick look and then leave it to those brave and or foolish enough to wish to risk life and mainly limb to those icy slopes.

The countryside along the way was quite breathtaking with the usual steep green hills and what seems to have become the norm, a nimble river along the roadside and there were many very pretty photo opportunities along the way – but sadly at the end of the day, one can only take just so many of these shots, not to mention the fact that while we were up on the mountain I was splattered with mini-hail every time I opened the window to take photos.  Not quite hail, certainly not snow, perhaps more like sleet, these tiny white pebbles certainly stung when they struck bare skin already sensitised by the clear and cold air rushing past the car.

Cold Feet

Blue Lace

We took some lovely drives in and around the town of Paynesville and its dainty neighbour Eagle Point – at Eagle Point we found a gravel road out along ‘the spit’ – a slim finger of land probing the sparkling waters of the lakes.  We drove to the very end of the spit and I have to say it felt wonderful to be doing Doug and Steph types of activities once again – this is what it is all about, just finding a track and following it, finding along the way all sorts of little gems, in this case, a colony of fairy terns clustered on a big old rock on the lakeside.

To Every Season Tern, Tern,............

Spitting Distance

Spit In Your Eye

THE SPIT!

As we almost always avail ourselves of the local boat trips, so did we in Paynesville and I’m sorry to say, it was disappointing.  Now this is only us, as Alan & Roz did the same trip and loved it, so I guess it is horses for courses as they say.  The boat in question was OK, but not particularly comfortable and had it rained we would all have been in trouble.  The bloke running the trip, Evan has only been doing this since Christmas and I think that perhaps he is still learning the ropes – not that there was anything wrong with his boatmanship, he was or at least appeared to be more than capable in that regard and I guess that is the most important thing.

Looking North (90 Mile Beach)

Looking South

The price was right at $40 per head for 2 ½ hours. There was no mention of a toilet on board and no refreshments were provided.  The trip was long and as he stuck to the middle of the waterways, presumably because his boat doesn’t have a shallow draw, there was not a great deal to see for the majority of the trip.  He slowly took us out to the beginning of the 90 mile beach, there we all disembarked and walked across the dunes to see the ocean.  This is where we found out why Paynesville is so called.  As we broached the crest of the dunes, we were dive-bombed by squadrons of enormous mosquitoes – no kidding, I thought these guys (and or gals) were actually wasps they were so big.  They were easy targets to swat and as they didn’t spurt blood when squashed, we can only assume they were starving.  Now I’m soft hearted most of the time, but I wasn’t prepared to share my life blood with these manic creatures and after slaying a good number of them I scuttled back to the boat.

Poor old Evan was not much of a narrator and left a great deal to be desired when it came to commentary.  He pointed out each and every marker we passed and took great pains to describe another boat sharing the waterways with us, aside from that he didn’t know the names of the mysterious little black water-fowl (Eurasian Coots) and didn’t have a lot of information to pass on about the breeding colonies of both black swans and pelicans that we passed along the way.  I think tho’, the biggest problem was not being able to get closer to the shore lines where we would have seen the bird life close up.

It is at times like this that you are torn between telling the poor bloke a few home truths in the hope of turning his business around, or just keeping the proverbial buttoned and moving on.  Sadly, the very first thing he told us was that the business couldn’t/wouldn’t support him.  We think we have that figured.  Anyway, we shared the cruise with an extended family, oldies down to the very youngies – the old bloke was a Uniting Church Minister as was I think one of the younger fellows.  They were happy and easy companions for the afternoon and unlike us they seemed thrilled with the trip – perhaps it is just us.

Across The Lake To The Mountains

MINGLING AT MALLACOOTA

From The Van

You now find us lingering at Mallacoota, a gorgeous little spot just south of the NSW border.  This is also a lake district and we have a brilliant site right on the lake front looking out towards the breakers.  DD is in his element here as for the first time in about 4 months, he has other caravanners.  This place has 600 odd sites, powered and unpowered, but sensibly at this time of the year only open one smallish section.  It is almost full in this section and DD goes missing for inordinate amounts of time as he finds other old caravanners to talk to.  It is lovely to see him so happy – doesn’t take a great deal does it?  The fact that this place is so beautiful helps, we are looking out of the van at great expanses of calm water, dotted with the odd pelican (they must be odd as all the normal ones are off nesting at the moment) and the usual gaggle of gulls.  The sounds of the water birds over the soft surge of surf in the background are soothing to say the least.  The weather here promises to improve tomorrow and I hope to finally get the painting gear out – fingers crossed.

Weather Coming In

DD Going Out

We have had a little bit of both sad and bad news this week, a friend of a friend has died, another friend has money problems, family members are having trouble with ex-family members and my dear friend Philomena is ill.  It is hard hearing this sort of news when so far from home and feeling helpless to help.  Our love and best wishes go to all our wonderful friends and to our beloved family.

Until next time, please do look after yourselves and each other – none of us really knows what is around the next corner.  Smell the roses, drink the wine, pat the dog, play the golf, read the book, kiss the wife and make the bloke feel good – tell everyone you love them and don’t forget yourself along the way.  Until next time – Steph.

Gulls Winging Above Their Reflections