One Year On

I have just looked at my previous post - a year ago! How time flies! At that time I was in central NSW, travelling north. I went to Christmas in July in Mareeba, far north Queensland then back to Townsville. I joined a tag along group going to Alice Springs and Uluru and returned home in September. I put down roots till after Christmas and then left at the end of January.

This year I again went south. I went to the Solos' rally in Euroa Victoria at the end of February and on to a larger CMCA rally at Carisbrook Vic. I love rallies, especially the solos where I now know quite a few travellers. Euroa was not my favourite. I know we can't do anything about the weather but complain but it was SOOO HOT.  I was actually sick with the heat and didn't join in much. I spent most of the time in the central meeting area playing cards and talking. Carisbrook was equally hot but we had air conditioned meeting rooms which made it more pleasant. The next rally is in Mudgee NSW in September when the weather should be more pleasant.

I have been to a couple of bush festivals. At the Banjo Patterson Bush Poetry festival I plucked up courage and competed in the poetry reading competition. I didn't trust my memory enough to do a recital, even though it was my own original poem. The judges' rankings were interesting. I was given 2nd place by one, 5th by another and 12th by the male judge. It didn't put me in the running for a prize but was very encouraging.  Last week I was at the Man from Snowy River festival in Corryong, in the Victorian alpine region. The highlight for me was the re-enactment of the poem with wonderful riding and horsemanship. I did stand up at two of the poets' breakfasts and did my poems without a book - yay! I also competed in the one minute poem competition where we were given a line and had to prepare (for several hours) and present in less than a minute. 53 seconds! I didn't get a guernsey but didn't disgrace myself. I will put the poem on my rhymes blog.

Today I caught up with those who went to the Stone the Crows festival (the same time as the Snowy River one.)  There are four or five groups of solos heading off on tag-alongs, in groups of about 20. The group I am with at the moment is making about 10 stops around north and north west NSW - quiet camps, a couple of farm stays, outback museums, shearing demonstrations, visiting glass making artists etc. - a real variety. We will end up in Lightning Ridge before moving on into Queensland. I suppose some people will be fossicking for black opal - but not me. I've tried that and got nothing for my troubles.  I think we will be in Lightning Ridge for about a week and I will join a different group travelling further north.
O

Winding Down

Now that I am so close to home, I am keen to push on. I am in Narrabri and will stay the night at the showgrounds, with hot showers available. It's interesting how decisions boil down to fundamentals like hot showers and shade.

A lovely spot for an afternoon siesta

I imagine it is like this when a local emergency threatens - what is important enough to spend time on. It used to be that the first thing people grabbed was family photos and, no doubt there are some that are irreplaceable. For most of us now, our photos are easily accessible through social media and on friends' devices.

For us travellers, decisions are also very simple. Is this a safe place to stay overnight? Am I close enough to fellow campers to feel secure but far enough way to be private? Is there shade and shelter without the risk of falling tree branches? Will it be quiet enough to sleep? Is there easy egress in case of an emergency? Sometimes we might be looking for water, power, internet access or phone. But really, once we are on the road, our needs are few.

This time next week I expect to be home and I know it doesn't take long to get busy again.  It's a long time since I have seen the family so I hope to arrange a get together fairly soon.And there are friends I didn't say goodbye to in October. If I want to stay friends, I had better do something about that. I know I am already of the agenda for the next Toastmasters meeting at Peninsula and I definitely want to attend each of my other clubs. and keep my membership up to date. In six weeks I have to be in Mackay to look after Tim and Oscar so I have a busy six weeks ahead of me.

And the Van Rocked

Wow! I think all of NSW must be on the move - or at least all the topsoil and leaves. I've just checked out Facebook posts and everyone I know seems to be battening down. I had two nights at Forbes and the van rocked both nights. No, I wasn't entertaining or plying a trade! There were 25-35 knot winds. It was good weather for hot soup and a few rows of knitting.

I spent a pleasant couple of hours in Yeoval at the Banjo Patterson museum. Although I have always appreciated his poetry, I really didn't know much about his life, particularly as a war correspondent in the Boer war and his involvement in WW1. I didn't know that he had been awarded an OBE (or CBE?) or that he is listed among the 100 most influential Australians - though I would have assumed that. I talked to the curator (and creator) of the museum for ages and he showed me some of the treasures that are not on display.

One fascinating item was a letter from Banjo's father is a bank manager in Lanark, Scotland that ended up in the museum through an incredible pathway. The letter was the very old style of paper folded, sealed with wax, with three stamps attached. The stamps, over 150 years old, have become very valuable and the letter was bought by an American philatelist who, for some serendipitous reason, had not removed the stamps. When he died, his estate sold the letter as part of the collection to an Australian stamp collector who realised the historical significance of the letter and offered it to the museum. It was obviously meant to be.

After a good hot free shower at the Yeoval showgrounds, I pushed on to Dubbo as it was still early in the afternoon. I am overnighting at a Member Stop Over (MSO) with four other vans. The owner Peter has a huge area and could probably fit about 20 rigs if needed. He and his wife Janet are trying to get enough information to persuade the Dubbo council to make the city an RV friendly town. They have asked visitors to list their spending in the town. After topping up my fuel and having a coffee in town, I accumulated $110 just on my way in. I will probably have to get a few groceries in the morning so there go another few dollars. Anyone who does any sightseeing or visits the zoo will easily double that amount. It would be interesting to see how much is spent in town from the few CMCA members who use the MSO.

Time at Temora

I overestimated my stamina today. I had expected to get much further but I am at Temora tonight - an unexpected stop but a lovely little spot with free camping at the old railway station. It has been renovated and is now the Youth Centre, with beautifully set out rooms and activity areas.. It borders on an open grassy space with a small concert shell. Everything is within walking distance (so the brochures say) or within easy driving distance.

I was glad I had driven today when I went to the recreation centre. I saw that an hour in the heated pool was $3.50 so I didn't want to waste my hour changing. I changed in the car, gathered my gear and discovered that the centre is closed for the season. With the kids still at school till Friday and then ten days holiday for Easter, it seems ridiculous to close so early. I would have thought they'd want to be open for the holidays. The swimming was incidental to a hot shower. I now know where the showers are for a clean start to tomorrow. One of my camping neighbours said that the Catholic Secondary School is presenting the Passion Play tomorrow and I told her I will go with her. I will find the showers before then.

Next day.
There are some lovely little coffee shops in town. The Information Centre lady recommended a few but when I asked where she went, she said Living and Giving.While I was parking there Meredie, who was just passing, asked me about my van. As she had an appointment, she invited me to her home for lunch so she could have a good look. She is a recently retired teacher with a huge task of renovating her home which is more than 120 years old. At the same time she is having a huge shed built to accommodate a motor home (for travels in the future) and to serve as her studio. She makes Venetian glass beads for jewellery and bespoke buttons. I even had a lesson - well I observed Meredie as I would never be steady enough for such precise work. Oh, and she cooked delicious fresh crumbed brains for lunch. I didn't remember about the Passion Play until it was far too late - but I had a shower at Meredie's house - an offer too good to refuse.

By the time I had had my little kindy kip, my parking area was a buzz of activity. There had been a fun run for drug awareness (or something similar) and the kids had all arrived for a barbecue and a band at the station. I chatted to the school chaplain for a while when she also came over to look at my van. (A lot of solo women see the small Sprinter as a good introduction to travel.) After the kids' celebrations finished, another band was to start up in the park. I decided that a night at the Club with a book to read, pokies to play and drinks on tap was a viable alternative to the camp ground entertainment. I didn't stay terribly late but everything was quiet when I returned.

Minuteman or Two-Minute Man

In the American War of Independence, a minuteman was a soldier who was prepared to fight the British at a minute's notice. It is also a term that gives some men a bad reputation as a lover! However, a two minute man is different.

I have been driving Sue and John's Magna (Maggie to her friends) while I've been around town. One of the tyres was low on air so I took her to a service station. Service station is a euphemism for a place where you serve yourself and pay for the privilege. . Being an independent woman, I didn't rely on the non-existent service. I positioned Maggie neatly near the air hose. Not sure how much air pressure was required, I connected the opposite tyre to see how much air was in that one. I held down the little silver lever - and watched the air pressure plummet to about 12. So it was now lower than the original. I have to say that whenever I though about inflating tyres, I was worried that I would do the opposite. Talk about self-fulfilling prophecies!

Now, I may be independent but I am not stupid. I know when I am beaten. I took myself into the service station to ask for help. The one attendant had a queue at the register and a number of others busily self-serving outside. I joined the queue, only to be told that there was no other worker there and I would have to wait till there was a lull. That didn't look like anything that was likely to happen soon, so I looked around.

I approached a genial looking man who was about to leave. 'I'm looking for a kind and helpful person with two minutes to spare,' I said as I accosted him. After his initial shock, he admitted to being kind and helpful but only having a minute and a half. That sounded good enough for me. It probably took him about two and a half minutes by the time he re-inflated both tyres. Lovely man! I now know that it is just a matter of pushing something on the air hose into something on the tyre and the air flows in. The little silver lever is for letting the air out if you have over-inflated it. If I can just remember that for next time ....


I was going to talk about my Bruny Island cruise but the photos can tell the story.

An Encounter with History

A day at Port Arthur gave an insight into the penal colony, set up to house repeat and violent criminals, I was intrigued by the contrasts. Port Arthur was the first place in the British Empire to separate the men from the boys (in a manner of speaking!). The boys, some as young as 9, were housed on an island in the bay. They were educated and taught a trade. Other convicts were also given the chance to learn something useful. Classes were available and church attendance was compulsory. On the other hand, floggings with the cat-o'-nine tails were common. Days, months and even years of sensory deprivation in total darkness and lack of any form of exercise, led to the formation of the lunatic asylum.

Once convicts were released, many returned to Port Arthur. Not only did they have nowhere to go and no way to generate income, they could not adjust to this strange life in a colony totally foreign to them. Most of them were from London and other urban areas and had no idea of self-sufficiency in such a basic culture. If they couldn't make it or they couldn't grow it, they didn't have it! For those who had relied on their wits, stealing and swindling, this new environment gave no opportunity for them to use these talents. For many, the solution was to return to the only place they knew. Facilities were gradually provided. This was probably the first step towards the welfare system that developed.

The barracks and services for inmates

Remains of the Hospital

My Two-Minute Man

So much to see and so much to do! Tasmania seems small to us mainlanders, and in terms of distance it is. A quick look at the map shows that anything or any place is no more than a few hours drive. However those maps don't often show the state of the roads - narrow, winding, potholed, populated by caravanners and motorhomers by day and wandering animals at night.Sometimes there is only one element (heaven!) but sometimes four or five elements can challenge the enjoyment of the road.

I have had two short stints away this week. Although I have been there before, I made a trip to Port Arthur. On site, I joined a tour group with an excellent guide. It is expected that they have the information to impart. He certainly had that - but there was an air of showmanship that made him into a real storyteller. I thoroughly enjoyed the walk and talk. A boat cruise is also included in the entry cost, also interesting. I always believe that time on the water enhances any experience.

On the way, I made a couple of detours. I walked across the tessellated pavement and read up on the unusual formation - and of course took photos which don't do it justice. I had a quick lunch at the hotel/cafe/restaurant across the road, gazing out at the sea. It was a lovely view and the perfect accompaniment to a seafood chowder. I also drove in to the blowhole - a wasted trip at low tide! But to balance that out, Tasman Arch provided an incredible blend of sight and sound. The colours and textures of the view (trees and rocks and amazing geographical formations and the swirling blue sea with white breakers over the rocks) complemented the wind in the trees and the crashing of the waves far below. It was a smorgasbord for the senses. Close by was the Devil's Kitchen. I think you would have to be a climber or trekker to get close enough to appreciate it. Even though lookouts were set up, viewing was sadly very limited.

This would look even better if I could turn the 90 degrees anti-clockwise

I didn't get to my two-minute man. Look for him in the next post