On top of the world

For a few minutes today, Kim and Mike were the highest people in Australia.  We had climbed to the top of Mount Kosciuszsko.  True, we’d driven up the first 1200 metres and taken the chairlift to 1930 metres but to get to the highest point at 2228 metres, the highest point in Australia, we walked the 13 kilometre trail.  

 

And, joy of joys, the sun appeared, the sky was an unbroken azure blue and the visibility appeared endless.  Range after range of mountains, dotted with granite rocks of extraordinary shapes and sizes.  No wonder the aboriginal people of long ago considered the place full of spirits.

 Kim, ever interested in the local flora, found plenty of alpine plants to admire and photograph.  Mike was amazed to see dozens of small fish in the streams, some of which form the source of the Snowy River, all of which freeze solid in the winter months.

The lower slopes of the mountains are a popular ski resort in the winter.  Although we are now at the end of summer, the temperature was a pleasant 16 degrees, but it was still necessary to be coated in sunscreen to avoid burning as the UV is particularly high at these elevations.

Living in sub-tropical Queensland, daily dress tends to be light and casual, so it was for the first time in about a year that Mike had donned his walking boots, with the inevitable result that after a longish walk, he now has a nice selection of blisters on his tropic-softened feet! 

The chair lift back down the mountainside was glorious.  The sun shone as we dropped below the tree line and the perfume of gum trees filled the air.

It’s now the end of the day.  A few small fluffy clouds dot the pale blue of the sky.  We’re camped in a valley, the river is chuckling past, running fast and clear from the recent rains.  The sun has just dipped below the mountain and the shadows have lengthened almost across the valley floor.  We’re visited by a duck (this one has two legs) and she seems quite at home wandering around our feet.  Mike is two glasses of Guinness down (for re-hydration purposes you understand) and Kim is only one behind but preparing our evening meal.  Oh yes, it’s Monday 25 February and we are at peace with the world.

Rain Rain Go Away

Precipitation.  Such an attractive word.  It conjures up images of the expectation of an exciting event that is about to take place.  Instead, in the vernacular of Vin Rouge, it means ‘bloody rain’.  According to the meteorologists, ‘a low is travelling down the east coast of Australia’.  We know.  It’s been following us for the last week.  Drizzle is fine¸ we’re used to that from our life in the UK.  But alternating with downpours that are reminiscent of a very thorough pressure shower, it’s beginning to become rather tedious.  Now Land Rover Defenders are not famed for their water resistant qualities.  As the old adage does, ‘what’s the difference between the Titanic and a Land Rover?’.  The answer of course is ‘nothing, they both have the same turning circle and they both let in water’.  OK, a trifle cruel but there’s elements of truth in there somewhere.  

Mike has quite literally spent years trying to keep out the rain from Vin Rouge, all to no avail.  So now the front air vents are covered in gaffer tape, along with every other even faintly possible places where water may get in.  But when driving into something approaching a fireman’s hose, some of the water will get in.  Ah well, it’s all a part of life’s rich tapestry.

After such a great weekend in Sydney, it was something of an anticlimax to leave the city and head south once more.  However, leaving behind the seemingly never ending traffic lights and queues of vehicles was a pleasure.  We followed the Hume Highway south for a while, the scenery was nothing special and the road monotonous.  At our usual 80kph (50mph in old money) we plodded along being overtaken by everything from small cars to trucks with two trailers.  At last we turned east on to quieter roads and headed for the small towns of Mittagong and Bowral.

We stopped off at Bowral which has created an amazing museum of international cricket with a special section dedicated to Sir Donald Bradman.  The history of cricket was explained in some depth, along with how cricket balls and bats are made, the clothing worn and the prizes awarded.  The best willow for cricket bats comes from Essex in the UK, a fact we already knew, which is more than can be said for just about everything else we found out.  In all, a very interesting and enjoyable visit.

We’d planned to overnight at a place called Honeymoon Bay and so progressed through many mountain climbs and descents, hair pin bends and dramatic views ‘over the edge’ until we passed through the small town of Nowra, after which the scenery changed to flat scrub as we headed out on coastal flatlands towards Currarong, on a tip of land bordering Jervis Bay. 

Honeymoon Bay is on the Beecroft weapons range and it’s necessary to register with the military check point at the entrance.  Sadly the area was closed as it was in use by the military and so we spent the night in a very average camp at Currarong.  Around midnight the heavens opened and although we were snug and dry in the rooftop tent, the noise was such that sleep was just about impossible.

We can pack away the tent even when it is wet, which we did in a steady drizzle.  On the road again it rained, poured with rain, drizzled with rain and almost stopped a couple of times. 

Continuing south, we followed the coast road as much as is possible.  Views over the bays were indeed lovely, but would have been better for some sun.  The sea should have been cobalt blue, instead it was grey and threatening with surf pounding on the sandy beaches.  We dropped by Mollymook, where Rick Stein has a restaurant.  The place was pretty but Rick Stein was out and the restaurant was closed, so we had to settle for a coffee and a piece of cake in a greasy spoon cafe.  Not that same at all!

Lake Conjola was pretty but we pressed on, setting up camp at the Showground at Milton.  The very nice lady who collected the fee told us that the amenities block was about to be rebuilt, so we had a quick shower in case they started early.  Rain again, all night long and a soggy start the next morning which was brightened by a visiting flock of sulphur crested cockatoos.

South again the next morning where we stopped for an excellent coffee in the town of Ulladulla, then it was the Princes Highway pasing Bateman’s Bay.  We stopped off at a place with the wonderful but quite inaccurate name of pebbly beach where we met a rather languid goanna, presumably having just eaten.  This one was about 2 metres long.

 

On again through Narooma, where we bought some very tasty fresh prawns straight off the boat, Bermagui and finally Aragannu, where we set up camp in the Mimosa Rocks National Park, right by the sea.  Guess what?  It rained all night, although it did stop long enough for us to explore the beaches, one of rocks, the other beautiful sand. 

Returning to camp we found a bandicoot looking around for scraps but it soon wandered off.  A couple of kangaroos paid us little interest as we sat down with a glass of wine before turning in for the night.

Next day and another wet camp to pack away.  This is getting tedious.  We headed south again to the town of Bega, noted for its cheese.  A visit to the ‘Cheese Heritage Centre’ left us underwhelmed, apart fro the new breed of cow they seemed to have created.

We soon left, heading into the mountains through mountain passes towards Cooma.  The road twisted and turned, first climbing then dropping, one hairpin bend after another.  It was interesting driving but with little time to take in the views.

Passing throough Cooma, where we stopped only briefly for supplies, we entered the Kosiuszko National Park.  At 2228 metres, Mount Kosiuszko is the highest point in Australia.  It was raining of course and the peaks of all the mountains were hidden.  Sometimes we we below the cloud and it rained, Sometimes we were in the clouds and it rained and sometimes we were above the clouds were it rained from the clouds above.  Just under the alpine snowline, at 1200 metres, is Sawpit Creek where we camped for the night, and yes it rained. 

 

We were hoping to get to the summit the following day but the weather made this impossible.  So with an earnest plea for some sunshine, I’ll stop here.

Superb Sydney

I don’t know how traditions get started but somehow in the years since we’ve known Peter and Katherine, the tradition of a gin and tonic at sundown has become an established part of life whenever we’re together.  Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining.  The sundowner has become an anticipated and enjoyable prelude to an evening where good conversation mixed with reminiscences around the dinner table are surpassed only by the laughter.

Last weekend was no exception.  Driven down from the mountains by the deluge, we enjoyed a full and sociable weekend with Peter and Katherine in the city of Sydney.  Some decades ago, we lived and worked together in Hong Kong and have remained firm friends over the years.  Their son Charles is much the same age as our daughter Sarah and now that we all live on the same continent, it’s possible to get together more frequently.  Katherine is a sculpturer (is that the right word?) and potter in ceramics.  Her work is shown in galleries in NSW, Queensland and overseas.  When we arrived she was (in addition to other work) in the middle of making an order of almost 500 ceramic buttons and of course, we were recruited to assist with the lesser artistic side of things.  We agreed that it was quite therapeutic getting messy with clay.  After the firing we were amazed how the dull and flat pieces of clay had been changed into glossy and attractive pieces.  Kim glazed her very own pot and that is now carefully wrapped and tucked away safely in the back of the Land Rover.

 

We took the opportunity to see the exhibition of work by Anish Kapoor, having seen his enormous piece ‘the cloud’ in Chicago last year.  The way in which he manages to use space seems to deceive the brain, making depth appear flat and straight lines curved. 

  

Fortunately there was time for socialising.  Breakfast with friends old and new at Dee Why followed by a gentle stroll along the beach was a terrific start to Sunday morning. 

Dinner with Alan and Fiona in their apartment overlooking Sydney Harbour was very special.  The view over the water as the sun sunk slowly into dusk was just as spectacular as the guidebooks would have us believe. 

An added bonus was seeing Sarah, who had flown down for the weekend to catch up with her friend Leanne.  We all got together on Saturday evening for dinner preceded of course by the sundowner.  It looks like the G&T tradition might well be extending to a new generation.

Carry on Camping

It frequently occurs that whenever we stop and set up camp, someone wanders over and asks us about our ‘rig’.  We find it amusing that the person invariably has a luxury caravan equipped with air conditioning, colour television, microwave, washing machine and all the other luxuries.  By comparison we could be best described as ‘basic’.  Perhaps the thing that appeals to the questioners is the speed with which we go from arrival to a fully rigged camp.  It usually takes us about ten or twelve minutes.

Let us describe how this highly skilled and well honed team works (in my dreams!)

Upon arrival we drive around a bit until we find a level site about twice the length of Vin Rouge and arrange it so that any breeze comes towards the front.  This ensures that the cooker is protected from any draft.  We park, get out and check around to ensure that there’s no ants nest or other nasties around.  Then it’s a matter of unzipping the tent cover and releasing a couple of tie down straps.  The tent is then exposed in its folded condition on the roof.  One half of the ladder is pulled out from its storage place under the mattress and slotted into the other half that is fixed to the tent base.  It’s then used as a lever to open up the tent.  Six springy things hold the air vents and rain hood in place and a lightweight frame holds open the large protective flysheet at the back.  By the time this is done, Kim has released the elastic cords from inside.  These help to fold the tent neatly when it’s packed away.   

The duvet (known as a doona in Australia) remains in the tent.  The two pillows, used to lock our storage boxes in place inside the car, are thrown in and the tent is ready.

Next is the awning.  Three straps to release and the cover rolls out.  Two metal arms fold out and the cover is hooked into place.  There are no poles to worry about.  

 

Both the tent and the awning have built in electric LED lighting, so there’s no additional setting up necessary.

Chairs and a table are usually set up under the awning.

The galley, a two burner stove and grill, drops into place on a fold out shelf mounted on the back door.  A hose from a gas bottle simply plugs in.

Water is taken by gravity from the centrally mounted tank.  A hose simply plugs into a tap fixed to the galley shelf.

Then it’s either kettle on for a cup of tea or pour out a glass of wine and we’re done.

Packing up reverses the process and takes about 15 or so minutes.  Not luxurious accommodation but adequate. 

If the weather turns against us, we can set up a sort of ‘skirt’ under the tent that keeps us dry and can be opened up as an extended awning.  We also have a special mat for dusty conditions.  This lets the dirt drop through but prevents it coming back.  It sounds crazy but it works.  If it’s really wet we put down the waffle boards to stand on.

So that’s it, what we call our ‘two storey tent camp’.

We’re experimenting with a ‘washing machine’.  That’s a posh name for a plastic drum mounted inside a milk crate on the roof rack.  The idea is that movement when travelling agitates the washing inside the drum.  When we arrive somewhere in the evening, the washing is taken out, rinsed and hung up to dry.  With luck it will be dry(ish) in the morning.  Kim is trying out some soap nuts, something the aboriginals used apparently.  Half a dozen nuts that look similar to acorns are placed in a bag which goes in with the washing.  There’s very little suds and of course, no detergent to get rid of.

Trial one was a bit of a failure as there was no water in the drum after a day of driving.  Trial two began with Mike having an unplanned shower as he put the drum in place.  That demonstrated the problem experienced in trial one.  The application of a little silicone grease sorted out the seal and tomorrow we’ll find out if trial three cleans the clothes as we hope.

  

This is being written in a clearing just outside a small town called Broke.  Very appropriately named for us we think.  Having spent rather too many dollars on camp sites, this one is free.  The clouds have cleared and the shadows are lengthening as the sun goes down over the eucalypts.  Cicadas are tuning up for their evening concert, a car can be heard in the distance but it’s masked by the crazed laughing of a couple of kookaburras.  It must be rush hour, a pony and rider with a couple of dogs are meandering along the track and my glass of wine is getting warm.  Must be time for dinner.