Tag Archives: NSW

Wanderlust 3, from the snowy mountains to the sea

*A post! For Fiesta Friday no less! brought to you by a messenger mangosteen, and that awesome breakfast paratha, freshly made, fluffy, wonderously layered, drizzled with condensed milk AND sugar…*

Here’s Part 3 of the Wanderlust series.

I’m taking you away from steamy hot Yangon, back to late autumn/early winter in the Snowy Mountains, Australia. The Snowy probably evokes all kinds of folklore-ish associations for Australian school kids, from that Banjo Patterson poem about the man from Snowy River, the history of the Aboriginal people, and later, gold mining in Kiandra and the Snowy Hydro scheme. A place of legend and history and old fashioned pioneering.

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We drove from Albury, through the Upper Murray Valley, and into the mountains for a couple of days. Part of the Valley is a floodplain, punctuated by the occasional abandoned town and many skeletal trees.

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After the floodplains, the mountains became closer and closer. They became a backdrop to fertile farms and really neat, pretty localities. Sometimes, it’s just the general store, pub and the petrol station. Occasionally, it was just the pub (at least the priorities are right, right??). Once, there was even a hipster cafe that would cut a dash in Sydney.

But the main event was always the mountains themselves. Especially the climb to the top of Mount Kosciuszko, the highest peak.

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The climb was made, really, embarrassingly easy by the ski chairlift (as this is part of the ski field in winter). Only a 13km return journey, all of it on a steel mesh/rocky gravel boardwalk – I think they also serve to protect the environment from the flocks of tourists. This short walk was full of “oh look over there” views of the surrounding mountain ranges, as there are no trees at that altitude and we had an uninterrupted view around us.

In particular, the mountains faded in colour as they were further away, creating a gorgeous, hyper coloured layers of blue. Blue that matched the sky. I wanted to stay there until sundown…

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Wanderlust 2 – vintage railways and a windmill

*Also sending this to Fiesta Friday 22 at Angie’s, this time with a messenger monkey! I think he likes anything and everything food and drink, and sometimes cameras*

A few years ago, I discovered a book called “100 great books in haiku” by David Bader. Witty, sometimes plain funny, it was a great way to while away an afternoon.

For Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, party of the haiku was:

“roadde trippe!” (the rest, appropriately for Chaucer, was a tad demi-scatological…)

Ever since then, before every road trip, I always said to myself, “roadde trippe!” (childish, isn’t it?)

I said the same thing before heading off to Myanmar. And before our regional NSW road trip during the Easter/Anzac Day break. So in the spirit of road tripping and wanderlusting, here are some more photos from that trip (the first lot of photos are here).

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This trip unexpectedly became a journey around historic railway monuments in our regional centres. Some were sad relics. Like these wooden truss bridges in Gundagai. What a project! The bridges spanned the Murrumbidgee River flood plains (by the way, isn’t Murrumbidgee a great-sounding word that just wants to roll around your tongue?). The first was the Prince Alfred at 922 meters, which formed part of the Old Hume Highway. The second was part of the Gundagai to Tumut railway at 819 meters.

But the engineering ambition was greater than the size of the public purse, or something. These bridges fell into disrepair later in the century.

Despite some equally ambitious, perhaps utopian, restoration plans, they remain crumbling and fenced off with no public access. The sign described the pair of bridges as a ‘managed ruin’. Poetic, more than a little sad, especially in the twilight hours.

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Musings, and road trip #1

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As our northern hemisphere friends forage for spring-related things, we antipodeans are (reluctantly? raucously? slumberingly?) settling into nesting mode. Time to ditch the strappy dresses and sandals, hello to soft, faded jeans, softer wool jumpers and snuggly boots. Although we still get days of sunshine, there is a hint of chill in the air to remind us that, Toto, we’re not in summer anymore.

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With this season of change comes ideas, potentials and impossibilities. Work has been throwing up complicated, fascinating questions: we have long talks about could, should, would; bits of how-do-we and bobs of what-if. I distracted myself with thoughts about different jobs, new pastures, talking to people about what is ‘out there’. (The answer? Things, stuff, stories, bluff. Some luck, a dose of passion and a pinch of swagger.)

In between such seriousness, friends and I have laksa runs, ramen-in-a-cup, strange salads and trashy pies. We have wild talks about the meaning of life, gawk at literary meals, and joke about travelling with a llama (my second favourite quadruped) to some faraway corner where – Wallace and Gromit-esque – we eat cheese til the cows (or llamas) come home.

Then there’s baking and cooking. Quince, figs, persimmons. A strangely addictive bird seed bread, and Liz’s tofu marinara.

bird-seed-bread-2-05-tileAnd. And. There’s our Easter road trip. Here is the first batch of photos, all about the crisp mornings, brilliant sunshine, brooding sunsets, plus one rather gorgeous peacock. More coming soon.

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