Trip 4: August 13, Part 1

Wild wind last night, so not a great night for sleeping—but the wind has at least swept the sky clean, and there are no clouds in sight.

Richard was up a bit earlier than Nikki and I, and he made tea and brought it to us in our tents. Such service. This is the life—room service, fresh air, warm sleeping bag, great view. Galahs, kites, rocks, trees, wild flowers, BLUE sky. This place, Sturt National Park, like other National Park properties on which I’ve camped, is beautiful and well-tended. Camp sites are arranged in areas that don’t affect the surrounding land forms. There are just enough facilities (dunnies/outhouses, grills, rainwater tanks) to make camping a bit easier, colored to match the foliage, and well-spaced so they don’t block the view. Plus there are walking trails through the area nearby. Ideal.

And speaking of trails, we were soon hiking about, following the Granites, a 4-kilometer walking track. “The Granites” for which the track is named are giant boulders formed by magma that pushed up through the earth when the volcano here never quite managed to really erupt. The granite boulders are estimated to be 450 million years old. The name of this area, Tibooburra, is actually an Aboriginal word that means “heap of rocks,” so this trail was living up to the area’s name.

Trees (mostly desert bloodwoods) and flowers (including some of the lovely Sturt desert peas) decorated the landscape. Copper-burrs were not blooming, but Richard pointed out the fruiting bodies covered with white hairs. Lizards basked on rocks and wallabies grazed on patches of grass.

The terrain changed dramatically and often as we continued. Granite boulder outcrops gave way to quartzite and granite, and then shales, ironstone, and other layered rocks. This was a big area for gold mining, and everything sparkles with gold dust.

The track was a loop, and it eventually took us back to our camp site. From there, Richard drove us to the nearby Golden Gully Mining site. As the name suggests, this was a site where gold was mined, but it was also processed here, and the site was littered with aging equipment used for all stages of the process: steam engine, whip and mine shaft, stamper battery, windlass, sluicing tower (called a whim), with a wheel for turning the crank to lift the water, drill press (with a tree growing around it), wagon bellows, grinding stone, and an old miner’s cottage, with the roof collapsing but the chimney still intact. Definitely hinted at stories and dreams and hard work. Remarkable to even think of working here.

Exploring done, we headed into town, to get some beverages and petrol, then ran back to camp for lunch.

Trip 4: August 12, Part 2

Onward, onto the gibber plains. (Gibber comes from an Aboriginal word for “stone,” and stones are what cover broad plains here.) However, while there are abundant gibbers, the terrain is not unvaried. There are salt lakes, clay pans, and scrub, and hills and buttes rise in the hazy distance. We share the open spaces with emus, kangaroos, eagles, and sheep.

Short stop at Milparinka. The name is Aboriginal and means “water may be found here” or “everlasting water.” Milparinka was at one time a successful gold mining town. Today, while it is now nearly deserted, it is worth stopping. The historic Albert Hotel, built in 1882, is a still operating Outback pub that still offers accommodation, as well as having a campground. Restored buildings now house an art gallery, a souvenir shop, and displays where you can learn about Aboriginal culture, Charles Sturt’s expedition, and the “boom” days, when the town grew to a population of 300 people. Trees nearby outline the course of Evelyn Creek, the source of the water promised by the town’s name. The surprisingly handsome Courthouse was designed by the same architect who designed the Sydney Post Office. Fascinating stop—but not our destination, so we were soon back on the rough, red road.

Ooops. Very rough road. Flat tire. But Richard is prepared, because this is a common occurrence out here. Tools. Spare tire. Air pump. A delay, but not a disaster.

And on to Tibooburra. While this town is remote and small (population 134), because this region is historically important, the New South Wales National Parks and Wildlife Service has a tourist information center here. At the center, a delightfully knowledgeable and enthusiastic Park Ranger not only told us where to camp, what conditions were like, and what wildlife was around at present, but also recommended a local handyman who could repair our wrecked tire.

Tibooburra is an attractively rugged little town surrounded by spectacular scenery. There had been a little rain, and a magnificent rainbow, almost a full arc, crowned the glory of our campsite, which was just a short distance away. Had to smile at the name of the site, however, as it does not suggest a lovely location: we’re camped at Dead Horse Gully.

It was our second time setting up camp, so everything went more quickly this time, as we all knew where everything went. Beautiful site. Astonishing rocks, beautiful trees, lots of birds. Yahoo. Bit of info from Richard: the great, round rocks are created by spheroidal boulder weathering, also known as onion skin weathering. Over centuries, wind and rain peel the outer layers of granite off these great boulders—similar to the rocks known as the Devil’s Marbles—leaving them remarkably round.

Lovely sunset. Surprisingly splendid dinner: red wine, lamb chops, green beans, teriyaki rice. Richard has a big gas ring with a wok and clearly plenty of experience. Very nice.

Nikki is filling in today’s entry in her diary, even as I write this. She says she has done this for 16 years, and not just when she travels. Fun to think of having such a record of life.

Can’t see the stars tonight, but the cloud cover means it will be a bit warmer than if it were clear. The wind is picking up a bit, but it’s still a gentle evening. No huddling and shivering like the last two nights. (Not to be forgotten: August is mid-winter in Australia.)

Our lanterns are attracting most of Australia’s moths, but thanks to Nikki’s spray, we’re not attracting mosquitoes. A bit of rain, then a break in the cloud and we could see stars, and then rain, stars, clouds—and to bed by 9 pm.

Trip 4: August 12, Part 1

Spectacular sunrise. Warmer day, and the camp ground has good facilities, so I got a chance to shower and wash my hair before we head out bush. It may be a few days before I have the chance again. By the time I was heading back from the ablution block to our camp site, the corellas were all awake and greeting the morning with their usual cacophony.

Breakfast, then time to take camp apart, pack the 4WD, hitch the camping trailer, and head out. Quick stop in town to say good-bye to some of Richard’s friends at the tourist center, then on the road, heading north on the Silver City Highway. We’ll be on sealed roads on and off for the next hour or so, and then it will be nothing but unpaved roads—dirt and/or rocks—for the next several days.

Stopped at Stephens Creek, a watercourse that, like so many in this area, is generally dry, but has enough moisture in the soil from during the wet season that it is lined with trees. As much as I love the open, red wilderness, I am always drawn to the contrast of a dry creek bed shaded by hundreds of massive river red gums. Wonderful. Enjoyed the beauty and took a lot of photographs. Richard related that, a bit farther upstream, there is a dam that has created a reservoir, but that was not visible from where we crossed the creek. By this point in the journey, the road was dirt and the ride was getting rougher. This is when Richard’s skill and experience behind the wheel became vital.

For being in the seeming middle of nowhere, there was a surprising amount of history around us. We are now traveling on the route that explorers Burke and Wills and Charles Sturt took on their various treks northward, as they attempted to cross the continent. We crossed the Mount Gibbs Station, where Charles Rasp, who discovered the ore body that would be named Broken Hill, once worked as a boundary rider. Passed the Corona Station, once managed by Alfred Dickens, son of Charles Dickens.

Wildlife was wonderfully abundant: red kangaroos, galahs, wedge-tailed eagles, kites, and a lot of emus. We could also see, off in the decision, a building storm. But it was far enough away from us that we didn’t have to worry, at least not yet.

The land around us now is arid and fairly desolate, and yet the number of faces that desolation wears is fascinating. There are different rocks, scrub, terrain, animals, colors. Always something to look at.

About noon, we stopped at the Pack Saddle Roadhouse. This is the only roadhouse between Broken Hill and our destination, Tibooburra. The roadhouse is named for nearby Pack Saddle Hill. There were cold drinks available, plus surprisingly wonderful lunch options, including tuna in satay sauce. Purchases made, we headed to the top of Pack Saddle Hill, where we enjoyed a picnic lunch.

Trip 4: August 11, Part 2

The thing about Broken Hill is that the hill from which the town takes its name is definitely part of the town, not something off in the distance. First stop after lunch was at the Joe Keenan lookout, which offers a splendid panoramic view of the town and the “line of lode,” the massive ore body that made the town and its mines possible. Then on to the Broken Hill City Art Gallery, where I enjoyed the painting but especially liked a sculpture of a tree made of silver. And then we were on the road again, heading back to Silverton. (And passing camels en route.)

As the name suggests, the small, historic town of Silverton has a history of mining silver. This mining history is worth exploring. That said, the thing that draws many visitors is the town’s cinematic history. Hard to find a place that looks so incredibly remote but also has a descent pub and restaurant nearby. The scenery is definitely dramatic. As mentioned previously, Mad Max 2/The Road Warrior was made in the surrounding wilderness, and is certainly the best known of the movies made here, but dozens of films, and TV shows have taken advantage of this setting, from Razorback to Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. However, as much of a Road Warrior fan as I was when it came out, by this time in my life, I’m more excited by the rolling, red countryside and charming historic buildings.

We came across a man with tales to tell and jewelry to sell, and I enjoyed both. He is a metal worker who worked on Road Warrior, helping with special effects and doing welding. But he also is licensed to “deface” Australian currency, carving coins to highlight the design. So I now have an Australian dollar coin that looks like a piece of art, with a loop so I can wear it on a chain when I get home.

Then back to Broken Hill, to visit White’s Mineral Art and Mining Museum. Created by veteran of the mines Kevin “Bushy” White, this wonderful museum offers recreations of the interiors of mines, old and new. White has also created detailed dioramas and a video to share the history of mining in Broken Hill. In addition, it is home to a remarkable art gallery. White creates “paintings” from crushed minerals, using locally mined rocks to create scenes from around Broken Hill and Silverton (pubs, churches, iconic buildings), as well as of mining in the area. Clearly a labor of love, but also a fun and delightful way to witness Broken Hill history. Attached to the museum is Betty’s Doll Cottage, where Kevin’s wife Betty showcases a large collection of dolls and teddy bears (some remarkably fine ones, too). And then, finally, to the mineral collection—locally collected rocks and minerals, some of them for sale! Going home with me are samples of tourmaline, galina/rhodonite, and two forms of gypsum (spar and rose).

Back to camp to pick up extra gas cans to fill up, as we’re going out bush for the next few nights, so we need to take with us whatever we’ll need. We then headed to the West Darling Hotel for a proper pub dinner. Finally, a stop to stock up on food for the next few nights of bush camping. It amused me to note that, as rugged and remote as Broken Hill is, radicchio and arugula are as common as in suburban Chicago, and the amazing array of Asian goodies bordered on being enviable. Then back to camp for a relatively early night.

Bummer: My watch band snapped and I lost the watch. I just changed the battery, too. Well, I guess a timeless place like the outback is as good as any place to be without a watch. And tomorrow, we go farther out.

Trip 4: August 11, Part 1

Woke this morning to the shriek and warble of hundreds of little corellas. A book Richard had brought along related that breeding season for little corellas (Cacatua sanguinea) is August through October, so it seems probably that that’s why we’re seeing them here in such great numbers.

Up and breakfasted, we headed into town, where we arranged a walking tour of Broken Hill. Our guide, Jack Harris, worked in the mines for 42 years—so definitely part of the story he was telling. Jack doesn’t think the mines will last a lot longer, however.

Wealth of information was shared, some of it related to mining here, but much of it reaching far beyond Broken Hill.

Average rainfall here is 9-1/2 inches per year.

The Kintore Mine was the richest silver mine in the world: 1/2 ton of silver to 1 ton of dirt.

The nearby Triple Chance mine was a source of feldspar, muscovite, and beryl (“triple” because of the three minerals) became famous for supplying large beryl crystals that became the source of the beryllium metal used in the NASA Apollo Space Program. Surprisingly, the mine was started by a woman, Tess Alfonsi from Italy. In addition to the beryl, she was also the nation’s largest producer of feldspar.

A radio station in Broken Hill that he inherited was part of the beginning of Rupert Murdock’s media empire.

The iron lung was developed in Adelaide.

The first religious service held in Broken Hill was offered by the Salvation Army in 1884.

Wesley Church was the first solidly built building in Broken Hill. This was because initially, it was believed that the town would be a flash in the pan, so people only built iron prefab huts.

During World War II, millions of dollars in gold were held in the Broken Hill jail. The gold was not just Australian, but was also from the Bank of England the government of the Netherlands. Definitely safe from the invading Nazis here!

A stroll through Sturt Park, named for explorer Charles Sturt, brought us to the Titanic Bandsmen Memorial. The idea for this memorial originated among local band members who wanted to honor the members of the band on the ill-fated ship, who played hymns as the ship sank, to keep the doomed passengers calm. The monument is a broken column, and in the iconography of monuments, that broken column means a life cut short.

The somewhat exotic looking tower on top of the old town hall was once a fire look-out station.

Tour over, we headed to an old-fashioned sandwich shop for lunch. I had two items that had become favorites on my first visit—meat pie with sauce and “iced coffee.” These are pretty iconic items. (In fact, if you’re interested, I did a full post on meat pies a few years ago.) As for “iced coffee,” this is actually cold, coffee-flavored milk, rather than actual coffee. Nikki told me that she’d read that milk flavored with coffee sells at almost the same rate as beer. Nikki and Richard also went into some detail explaining how to make a meat pie. And then it was time to continue our exploration.

Trip 4: August 10, Part 2

On the road again, we continued north before swinging eastward. As trees thinned, we saw eagles taking advantage of telegraph poles, and a couple of poles were topped by eagle nests.

In a few hours, we were surrounded by nearly flat, rocky, red, scrub-covered country that seemed unrelated to the rolling green countryside from which we had departed this morning. Saltbush became common. An occasional dead tree was filled with corellas (small, white cockatoos).

Before long, the highway was the primary sign of human habitation, along with an occasional sign, as we crossed increasingly rugged terrain. Wonderful. This is what I had come for.

At one point, Richard pointed out the sign for Radium Hill, which was just south of the highway. This was the site of Australia’s first uranium mine, which operated for roughly the first half of the 20th century.

I was astonished and delighted by all the kangaroos we saw grazing in or near dry creek beds not far from the highway. I imagine the traffic here is light enough to not scare them away—but still regular enough that they aren’t as bold as the unfortunate wallaroo that collided with us last time I was out bush with Nikki and Richard (Trip 3).

Quick stop in Cockburn, which is right on the state border. Charming little, old town. Cockburn was established in 1886 to facilitate the transport by train of ore from Broken Hill in neighboring New South Wales into South Australia—because here, too, the rail gauge changed between the two states. I took a photo of the railway water tower—and then we drove across the border into New South Wales (NSW).

More corellas. More red rocks. And finally, into Broken Hill. So much history here—most of which I know from a visit to the geology museum in Sydney during my first trip to Australia. The ragged, broken-looking hill in the town’s name is thought to be the largest lead-zinc-silver ore deposit in the world. It is because of this ore that the town exists. Among the best-known abbreviations in Australia is BHP, for Broken Hill Proprietary, the company founded in 1885 to handle mining at this site.

As we drove into town, Richard pointed out a few highlights, including the stunningly large and crowded cemetery. (Mining was dangerous.) He also pointed out some iron houses that came prefab from England early in the town’s history. Can’t imagine having an iron house in the heat experienced here.

We reached the local campsite more than an hour before sunset. Richard had the “kitty” (we had each contributed a couple hundred dollars, to cover gasoline, campground fees, meals consumed in camp, and any other communal travel expenses), so he settled our account, and then we got busy setting up camp.

Then it was back in the car to drive the roughly 15 miles to Silverton, where we had a view back over the plain we’d crossed—a terrain that I’d actually seen before only on the silver screen—because it was here that the movie “Mad Max/The Road Warrior” was shot. Glorious sunset. Then a brief stop at the Silverton Hotel, where they shot part of the great mini-series “A Town Like Alice.”

Back in town, we stopped for dinner at a Chinese restaurant, and then returned to camp for coffee and stargazing. Because there are so few lights out here, the stars are amazing—a great sparkling swath across the darkness. Glorious. Saw the Southern Cross for the first time this trip. Happy end to the day.

Trip 4: August 10, Part 1

Not quite light yet when I rose. Packed and got my bag to the front door. We had breakfast and then got busy with preparations. This included running cats around the corner for boarding at the vet’s. Nikki invited me along, so I could see where she works. Nice facility and charming co-workers. Then back home.

We (though mostly Richard) packed the car (4WD) and hooked up the camping trailer. Last thing we did before pulling out of the driveway was write down the mileage showing on the odometer. Want to know just how much ground we’re covering. And then we hit the road.

It was a lovely morning, and sunlight and streaks and puffs of cloud in the blue sky highlighted and dappled the beautiful, rolling, green countryside. Vineyards gave way to green fields dotted with sheep or cattle. Glorious country, and splendidly green this time of year. Punctuating the greenery were numerous wonderful, old towns: Kapunda, on the Light River, the oldest mining town in Australia; Hamilton, in the Mount Lofty Range, once a stop for mining carts moving north from Adelaide; Marabel, famed for its annual rodeo, Saddleworth, on the Gilbert River; and Manoora, at the entrance to the Barrier Highway. All charming, especially to me, after a few years away.

Richard related that when the massive silver, lead, and zinc ore deposit was discovered at the spot now known as Broken Hill, the Cornish miners from Kapunda loaded their gear into wheelbarrows and pushed them all the way to Broken Hill, mostly along the route now traversed by the Barrier Highway. Since we, too, were heading for Broken Hill, we turned onto the Barrier Highway.

This route took us through Burra—a delightful town that is even more charming than I remembered. (I rhapsodized about it somewhat both in my book and in a couple of posts from my first trip, if you want to go back there and learn more and see photos. But if nothing else, my first interest was because it was where they shot the astonishingly good movie Breaker Morant.)

Left turn at Burra and follow the signs to Broken Hill.

A lot of the small towns are hurting financially, and fighting to hang on. Nikki said that even Burra was struggling. I understand why, but it still saddens me. Same thing is happening in many small towns in the U.S.

Into Terowie, another small, historic town—but with a history that touches the world. It was from the Terowie train station that General Douglas MacArthur gave his “I shall return” speech during WWII. At that time, everyone had to change trains in Terowie, because different gauges were used for railroads in New South Wales and South Australia.

Richard pointed out the Institute in town. He related that, in each town, there was a club sponsored by the government where you could go to read or borrow books—precursor of today’s public library.

Within half an hour of Terowie, we crossed Goyder’s Line. We crossed this line on our last trip together, though much farther west. This line, defined in the mid-1800s by Surveyor-General George Woodroffe Goyder, offered a guide to settlers—don’t settle north of the line, as there isn’t enough rain to survive. A couple of good years, and the line was ignored, but when regular dry weather returned, those who had ignored the line were ruined. And crossing the line, the change around us was startlingly sudden. Shrubs and scrub replaced grass, and tall gum trees gave way to shorter mallee gums.

Richard pulled into a grove by the side of the road, with green hills rising off to the west. We were surrounded by silvery-green scrub and gum trees that were beginning to bloom. Nice thing about having friends who really know the country—because this was a perfect place to enjoy our picnic lunch.

Trip 4: August 9

Mardi and I chatted over breakfast and while I packed. By 11:00 am, we were ready to head out the door. It’s a brilliant day, and Mardi took full advantage of the sunshine to show off a bit more of the beauty of Sydney and surroundings. Truly splendid city.

As we neared town, we could see a few people on top of the Harbour Bridge, and Mardi explained that, while climbs up there are available and popular, they are very costly and quite complicated (you have to have a background check, and during the climb, you can’t wear anything that might catch on things, plus you have to wear coveralls that match the color of the bridge, so you don’t distract drivers below). There are so many glorious views all around town, it hardly seemed worth the price and effort. So we just enjoyed the view from a cliff, and then continued on to the airport.

Mardi came in with me and got me into the Qantas club, of which she is a member. Gorgeous place—really elegant. And then they were announcing that it was time to go to the gate. I said farewell and headed out, and now I’m on board a jet headed for South Australia.

Bumpy flight, but otherwise uneventful. Two hours, and I was on the runway in Adelaide.

Richard was waiting for me. He grabbed my bag, we jumped in his 4WD, and he headed north. The weather was glorious here, as well, and I enjoyed the drive. At one point, we could see dozens and dozens of mountains of salt. Richard said that this is mixed with calcium carbonate and used in the manufacturing of glass, for bottles for the growing wine industry.

Before very long, we were among the green hills and lush vineyards of the Barossa Valley. Nikki was waiting, and I was immediately mat to feel at home.

The three of us chatted, and Nikki and I tried out Nikki’s new piano. We then looked at the photos and souvenirs of Nikki and Richard’s trip last year to the U.S.—including visiting me in Chicago. They also showed me the plans for the new home they’re building across town, as they endeavor to escape the explosive growth of a nearby winery.

Dinner was at 6:30, then we spent the rest of the evening looking at books related to our upcoming trip. Lots of rugged wilderness lies ahead!

Evening news signaled bedtime, and we headed off for a last night in beds for a while.

Trip 4: August 8

Another beautiful day. Up and into town. Sunday, so Brian wasn’t with me on the train today, as he didn’t have to go to work, but that made it easier to focus my attention out the window. Train swept past stands of trees, small towns, and the broad Parramatta River. I smiled when we pulled into the North Strathfield station, where, on my first trip to Australia, I changed from the Sefton train to the train to the Hawkesbury River, to ride with the riverboat postman. But today, I continued on into Sydney.

This time, I disembarked at Town Hall, where I emerged to the sound of bells pealing in the cathedral there—St. Andrew’s. Sign said there was a service in five minutes, so I decided to join them. The beauty of the interior matched the elegance of the Gothic Revival exterior. Founded in 1819. Anglican. A lot more formal than my church at home, but quite wonderful. Excellent choir. Great service. Delightful people.

Then I was off and hiking around. Still a lot to explore. Walked all around Darling Harbour, then headed for Chinatown. Finally found Indonesian food in a downstairs food court, so stopped for lunch. Then back through town, visiting sites I had wanted to photograph the day it rained and I’d left my camera at home. Over to Hyde Park, down Macquarie Street, through the Botanical Gardens, where I heard and then saw a kookaburra. I’ve never stopped loving their laughter.

Through the gardens to the shore and around to the Opera House. After several hours, I found myself wearying of walking, but I disliked the thought of stopping. I always realize that the future might hold a return trip, but I am also aware of the fact that this could be farewell. And though Sydney is not my favorite place in Australia, it’s probably my favorite city here (though that might be due at least in part to its being the city I know best down here). And though no city here holds my heart like the wild places do, I love Sydney enough to make parting a bit hard.

Made my way around Circular Quay and headed up George Street to the Wynyard Station. Walked in at 4:19 and saw that the next train was at 4:21, so weary or not, I quickened my pace enough to make that train. After boarding, I gave Brian a call to let him know which train I’d be on, and he was waiting at the station when I arrived.

Back home, I made tea, and Brian, Mardi, and I read the newspapers and chatted. Mardi was still not fully recovered, so instead of heading out for a farewell party, Brian and I headed off to get Chinese food to bring home—my treat, in thanks for their generous hospitality. Good food, good conversation, and an interesting documentary about kangaroos on TV rounded out the evening, with the day ending just after midnight.

Trip 4:August 7

The weather is still cool, but today it is splendidly sunny. So perfect for the planned outing to West Head, to enjoy the scenery and have a picnic.

Our drive took us north, and I was delighted beyond words to see that we were headed into Kuringai Chase National Park. Because of yesterday’s rain, the mountainous park was gloriously lush, and because it’s spring, wild flowers were blooming on all hands. I was in heaven.

We wound through the hills, surrounded by sandstone cliffs, gum trees, acacias, and casuarinas, as we headed out to West Head, which we reached in about half an hour. What a glorious spot. And what a view. We were overlooking the Barrenjoey Headland and Broken Bay. The water was impossibly blue, and sailboats were plentiful in many of the coves far below.

Black cockatoos, magpies, and currawongs thronged the trees. Pink, red, yellow, and white wildflowers splashed the forest with color. The fragrance of a pittosporum in bloom stopped me in my tracks—much loved and familiar from previous trips.

I am endlessly amazed by the tenacity of the gums/eucalypts, and I had much reason to be impressed by them today. There were fires through here a few years ago, and we saw gums that had been burnt to shells, but still with a branch or two with leaves starting out of the seemingly dead stumps. Wonderful. Delightful place for our picnic. And technically, still part of Sydney.

After lunch, we resumed driving through the forest and along the shore, winding our way through parkland and small communities. Then, as Mardi was feeling a bit under the weather, we stopped in Mona Vale to pick up some throat lozenges for her—and some vitamin C for me, to try to make sure I don’t catch anything. Trees and shoreline made the view endlessly charming, but as the sun began to drop to the horizon, we turned out wheels home. Not to rest, but to get ready for the evening.

There was time to freshen up —and take vitamins—before heading out to a concert at the Sydney Opera House! The city was dazzling, with lights everywhere reflected in the water. The Opera House came into view as we reached the Harbour Bridge, and stayed in sight as we rounded Circular Quay and headed down Macquarie Ave. toward the garage.

Having viewed the Opera House so often, and even having toured it, attending a concert there was a real joy. And the concert was splendid. Hard to beat Joshua Bell playing Beethoven. Sadly, Mardi was still feeling poorly, and even though she said she was game for a post-concert dinner, I could tell she was relieved when I said that I thought taking her home was a better option. She headed straights for bed when we got home. Brian and I had cereal for dinner and talked until midnight. I was still a little weary from jet lag and so even if it wasn’t exactly an early night, I very much looked forward to sleep. But what a splendid night.