Moving around NSW

Yep I'm still in NSW.  Don't really see the purpose of racing home to lockdown.  It's been hard listening to the growing numbers and feeling a bit guilty about not being there.  Have to say I have loved being at Em's.  Getting to cook for her and Joe has been fun and have been trawling through the old Women's Weekly Cookbook for inspiration.  It's interesting to recognise how limited the ingredients are that were used 40 years ago.  Also get to feed the maggies when they come begging and Em is at work. Em and I both enjoy our own space so Jac and I headed off to visit a friend in Armidale to give each other a break.

Morpeth street and sunset from main street

Headed off down the Pacific Motorway having booked a cottage in Morpeth for a night to stop along the way to Armidale.  Interesting little town, sort of like a mini Daylesford, good wine store, not surprising given we are in the Hunter Valley, it's about 2 1/2 hours out of Sydney.  Trying a new wine tonight to go with my Indian curry from the place next door to where I stayed, The Loft in the Surgeon's Cottage.  Shiraz Tempranillo, my two favourite wines together - Phoenix from Pokolbin Estate eminently drinkable, smooth dry and full bodied.  The cottage is very comfortable, in an old stone building, set in a rustic and green courtyard, and love that they have a teapot and looseleaf tea.  Morpeth also has a great pub, the Commericial with a microbrewery so I tried one of their beers sitting at a table on the street.  Was very aware of people not wearing masks and not appearing to socially distance, particularly in the pub where people, mainly men, were congregating in large groups.  Jac made herself very comfortable in the cottage.

From Morpeth I drove to Armidale on the rather intriguingly named Thunderbolts Way.  The road was named after a bushranger, a man who was known for stealing horses but 'only the best'.  That man, Frederic Ward, has that road named after him, Thunderbolt's Rock where he is reputed to have had a hiding place, a statue in Uralla, and his grave is marked with a biscuit tin where visitors leave etters for him.  His bush ranging career lasted 6 years.  6 years and he has all of that, whereas the Aboriginal people who lived on that land for tens of thousands of years, who were massacred and driven off their lands are hardly acknowledged.  There is a tourist map of Thunderbolt's Way which has all the information above, yet I found it hard to pick up anything which had the history of the traditional owners.  By looking at local Government websites I discovered the names of the traditional owners in the stretch between Walcha and Gloucester. I think they were Dangaddi, Worimi and Biripi.  I apologise if I have got any of that wrong or left out any, but it is hard to find that information.  But a bushranger, a criminal who was connected to that area for 6 years and has his story told and celebrated.

The drive itself was good, a large part of the road follows the Nowendoc river. Stopped for a break at Bretti Reserve, a peaceful little free camping area along the river, had a chat to the only couple camping there who told me about Pilligap and the area where there are several artesian springs.  Plan now to come back and do a round trip of all the artesian springs, sounds like heaven.  My friend was just a kilometre from the main centre of Armidale, a town developed by the squatocracy which apparently still has vestiges of the power of those original squatters.  Explored her property, picked veggies from the garden for dinner, had a fire outside then another inside, drank some good Hunter Valley wine and had a relaxing night.  Next morning we went to one of the many spectacular gorges around Armidale to look at the Wollombimbi Falls.  Poor Jac had to stay in the car as it was a National Park.  The area was devastated by bushfires earlier in the year but they have rebuilt a most magnificent viewing platform and refreshed the paths and amenities.   

Decided to head back along Thunderbolt's Way, stopping at another river side camping area and stayed in Morpeth again overnight.  Didn't want to just stay on the Motorway to get back so thought I'd try the Pacific Highway - don't, it was stop and start all the way and many built up areas, though I did take a few side trips.  One to Caves Beach a long stretch of beach which apparently has caves at one end but not at the dog friendly end.  Wild surf and sand had streaks of black, lots of erosion of the sand dunes.  

We had a long walk then back to the Highway with another stop at Chittaway Bay.  The bay is on Lake Macquarie, apparently one of the largest saltwater lakes in Australia.  It felt fairly rundown but got a piece of battered fish to eat and sat on a wharf on the Lake.  And along came a pelican, swimming up close and looked like she was hanging around for a feed. Took some of the batter off the fish and threw it to her, she caught it in her beak, clacked clacked with her beak to get it down and then patiently waited for more.  Jac was completely oblivious, although the pelican would move a bit away when she started walking around.  As Em said, I fed a pelican junk food.  Then got back in the motorway and headed home to Sydney, braving the Sydney traffic.   Some of Sean's extended family were there for dinner and cards and  helped try the sparkling fortified wine which was also from the Hunter Valley and was delicious. 

Footnote: 

Overheard conversation at one of the art gallery/come cafe I went to.  'Victoria is in a bit of a mess' 'Yes its because of the hotel guards who fraternised with the returning travellers' 'mm I think he Premier is Dan Andrews - is he Labor or Liberal?'  'Labor I think' 'Oh well that explains it' ....  Despite that have not had one person recoiling from me in horror when I have told them I am from Melbourne or the Mornington Peninsula.   

Travelling with Jac and Annie

“Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo—what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down.”  Oprah Winfrey

Oh dear what is happening when I start a blog with a quote from Oprah Winfrey?.  But this one seemed appropriate for this blog.  On my return from Canberra Jac and I were joined by a friend while going home from Canberra.  Annie and I have been friends since we worked together in a women's refuge back in the 80s.   Inspired by my road trips, Annie flew up so we could have a road trip home.  We've been friends for years but rarely holiday together.  We are very different, which is a good thing, we often argue but are united by feminism, by a  shared history starting with working together in a women's refuge, a love of grandchildren and a love of good food and wine, though Prosecco is our favourite tipple at the moment.  I've also done the same thing and flown over to Perth once so I could drive home across the Nullabor with her and Norm, we both share a love of road trips.  And she is a person who would take the bus with me when the limo breaks down - we handle adversity well and have fun with it.

After picking her up from the airport and a stop for fish and chips so I could show off my local Canberra knowledge by showing her Snapper on the shores of Lake Burley Griffin, we headed off to a farmstead at Coolac, just north of Cootamundra on the Olympic Way.  Beautiful spot, Wallendbeen Park Farm.  It's an organic farm with golden pigs, chooks bokboking around and the funniest little creatures - Guinea Fowl.  They like to stay together. They wander around as a group and every now and then one gets too caught up in scratching around, then they all call and the one left behind sticks its head up and comes running to join the fold.

Sat out on the decking in the dusk, ate our gourmet snacks, drank Prosecco and just enjoyed the peace and quiet, disturbed only by the occasional bok bok and the pigs grunting. 

I had booked for the Dartmouth Motor Inn, we travelled on the Olympic Way, going though Wagga Wagga and a swim in the Murrumbidgee at the Wagga Beach, again sand and deep water, although everyone said the river was low.  Caught up with a friend of my brothers, Beryl who has lived in that area for years who talked about how welcoming the community was of both refugees and international students.  When you travel through just a little part of the country you appreciate how much space there is and how much refugee communities could bring to small country towns if they were supported to go there. 

To continue the swimming theme had to stop at Albury to have a swim in the Murray, just at the spot where Annie and Norm had lived in a tent in their early years together.

Have to say that while the area around Dartmouth is absolutely beautiful, a dam that has more water than Lake Hume, forests and a beautiful river, the Motor Inn had seen better days and the food at the hotel was pretty tired and sad.  But did have a nice beer sitting out on the verandah at the motel and finished the night off with a Prosecco.  Next morning after Annie tried to set the place alight with the toaster which caught fire, we decided that the accommodation was not for us so thought we would just head home.  

However as John Steinbeck said

A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find that after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us. 

On the way down the mountain we stopped at the Witches Garden (how could one not stop at a place with a name like that), which has accommodation and acres of green and lush gardens.  They told us it was market day in Mitta Mitta so of course we had to go there and found a little green piece of paradise.  The market was out the front of the pub which backed on to the Snowy Creek.  The pub was an old one that has been so well done up with huge old logs, soaring roof and a comfortable and rustic feel to it, with green lawns going down to the creek.  Found out later that my Mum had lost her bottom dentures in that river behind the pub about 60 years before, would have dived in and searched for them if I had known.  They dam the river up in summer to make a deep swimming hole behind the pub.  We stopped for a Beechworth Ale and fantasised about staying for a night but thought we'd have no chance of finding dog friendly accommodation last minute during Easter. I googled accommodation and found Wonjeena.  3 ks out of town on Scrubby Creek Road, a piece of 1960s history, with a resident historian who is the 3rd generation to live on the land there and full of stories about the place.  And they had a spot.  They had closed for bookings over Easter because Nevis, the historian was doing his bees, but he had finished the the day before so they had a self contained unit available.  Two delightfully friendly dogs for Jac to be disdainful of and a huge bull in the next door paddock, which luckily Jac decided to stay away from.  Decor straight from the 50s.

Time for a dip in the freezing cold waters of the Mitta River.  After a while the body acclimatised and  we could lie on the rocks with the water burbling around us - so relaxing.  Mind you we must have looked a sight, two old bags and a dog, both with shaky balance picking our way through the current and over the rocks, but it was worth it.  There were lots of fishing spots and peaceful and private little hidden holes in the bush to camp by the river with fireplaces set up.  If only I could still get up and down with ease I would seriously consider a tent.

After a good meal at the pub, with a very nice wine - unfortunately can't remember the name except it had Duck in it somewhere (and no, it was not Blue Duck for those that remember the 60s), we went back to our little bit of 50s paradise, sat under the stars again with a Prosecco before bed.  

We had a meandering trip home, stopping for Jac to have a walk in Benalla and a return visit to Morrisons winery near Glenrowan.  Their Tempranillo is perfect and unlike many wineries they charge reasonable prices.  As the winemaker explained he does not like to pay more than $20.00 for a good bottle so why should he expect anyone else to.

View from our lodging  at Mitta Mitta

I love the meandering, it's a different kind of travel than just going from one place to another purposefully. Taking the time to head off if something looks interesting or exploring a place that you've just driven past before, somehow opens the soul a bit to new experiences. While doing it on my own is fun,  it was also good for to travel with a friend, we always tend to have fun and lots of laughs (often at our own expense).  Our eating and drinking habits are very similar so that all works out quite well.  The experience is different because you share it and can enjoy the moments together.