Trip 4: August 14, Part 1

Up early, packed up camp, and were on the road by about 8:15. First to Tibooburra, to visit the Country Store. I love this remarkable little shop. Friendly people, lots of homemade goodies, a surprisingly wide range of foodstuffs (including Indian curries and imported European chocolates). Plus camping supplies and auto parts. We were there for fill-ups on petrol and butane. (The butane is essential because most parks do not permit wood fires. These created two problems in the past: wood carried in brought insects and disease that caused diebacks in several forests, and, of course, the occasional fire got out of control.)

Off on the Jump Up Road. A jump up is an eroded hill, like a low mesa or butte, and the books Richard had brought along on the trip said that they are characteristic of the eastern part of Sturt National Park.

Kangaroos, rocks, low scrub, isolated short trees, bursts of greenery along creek beds, jump ups visible on the near horizon. At one creek crossing, Richard mentioned that river red gums (which adorn most creeks out here) are the most widely distributed eucalypts in Australia.

Acacias are all in bloom, as are many other wild flowers. Mobs of kangaroos (and “mob” is the correct term for a group of kangaroos). The road is rough, but our surroundings are splendid. Before long, the Dingo Fence came into view. It follows the border between Queensland and New South Wales at the point where we saw it. The fence was started in 1880 to try to stop the spread of rabbits, which became a real and devastating plague. Then, in 1914, the fence was repaired to keep dingoes out of sheep-raising area.

For a short distance, we left behind the astonishing gibber plain and entered an area of red sand. The dunes were dotted with small bushes with yellow flowers and seed pods. They are members of the grevillea family and are known as desert rattle pods.

Then suddenly we were back to gibbers. Some of creek beds we passed or crossed were filled with pale sand, and others were an incredible jumble of rocks.

Another stretch of red dirt. This is my favorite terrain: red dirt and silvery to olive green scrub. It reminds me of the Red Centre. But Richard assured me there would be plenty more gibbers ahead.

Near Fort Grey, a depot created and used by Charles Sturt as a base for exploring the area, we turned off the 4WD track onto the main road, which was simply a broader, smoother dirt road, and headed for Cameron Corner, the spot where South Australia, Queensland, and New South Wales meet. (Cameron Corner was named for surveyor James Cameron, who established the borders of the three states in 1880.)

Into sand hill country—really rolling countryside. Through the dog fence at the South Australia border. Quick stop at the “Cameron Corner Store” for beverages (iced coffee for me). As remote as it is, this utilitarian store makes it obvious that this area sees a bit of tourism, as they have a gift shop and a cappuccino machine, as well as offering meals, fuel, minor auto repairs, and camp sites. Beverages purchased, we headed over to the actual corner, where the “Three States Pole” marks the point at which the borders meet. The pole is topped with a brass plate that shows exactly where the lines were drawn, and which state you’re in, depending on where you stand in relation to the pole. (For some reason, these sorts of lines are always interesting.)

Back to the red dirt rollercoaster. Dune after rolling red dune. We were crossing the Strzelecki Desert. Richard found us a level, sandy spot near a windmill to enjoy our lunch. Broad and open. Perfect.

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.

Tuesday, September 17

Spent the day in downtown Sydney, shopping and walking. I wandered through the flashy Darling Harbour area–lots of shops, restaurants, hotels, and things to do. I mostly just admired the bright openness of the place, but did stop at a shop that sells Akubras (makers of the hat I’m wearing in my picture on the cover of my book) to buy a small flourish of feathers for the hat band, the original ones having gotten torn out by a branch during my riding trip in the Victorian alps. I then headed for the Queen Victoria Building. The QVB is a gorgeous old edifice, with statues, mahogany banisters, sweeping stairways, stained glass windows, vaulting arches and general magnificence on all hands. Constructed in 1898, it has lived many lives but has now been restored to its original intention of housing artisans, shops, showrooms, trades people, and cafés.

Shopped along George Street and then over to Pitt Street and down to Circular Quay, passing through Macquarie Place and over to the Rocks. I wandered happily among the old buildings but found the area enough changed to wonder if places I’d been before would still be there. A few were, but much of it was new. (Historic buildings were still there, but many had new tenants.) I had hoped to find again the golden wattle perfume I had purchased previously, but while the shop was still there, it was going out of business, and they no longer had the scent I loved. Still, the old buildings and old streets of this oldest part of Sydney delighted me, even though some that was familiar had vanished.

As much as I was enjoying the Rocks, on the whole, I was not enjoying being in the city. I had spent too much time surrounded by natural beauty, and I began to feel like two days was too much time here. Even the concrete was disagreeing with me. Despite having walked or hiked for hours every day while in desert or forest, I was getting blisters from walking on sidewalks. So I turned my steps back into city center to find the NSW tourist office, where I booked a day tour out to the Blue Mountains for tomorrow–one final dose of the bush before I head for home! Then I figured I’d better tackle the last of my shopping endeavors, so headed to the handsome Strand Arcade, where I found the remaining gifts needed for folks back home.

Finally, after many hours of wandering, I headed back toward Chinatown and the Cambodian place I had discovered last night. Not sure when I’ll ever get Cambodian food again, so don’t want to miss another opportunity.
Good day. And tomorrow, back to the Blue Mountains.

[P.S. That would not in fact be my last taste of Cambodian food. A couple of years later, I actually made it to Cambodia–a very different but absolutely wonderful experience. Seeing Angkor Wat was another dream come true.]

Sunday, August 25

Up early. For breakfast, I had the “ashi fruit” I bought in town last night. It actually didn’t match the description I’d been given; it was more like a cross between fruit salad and cucumber. Not a big flavor, but very juicy and refreshing.

Then on the road again, ever northward. Ballina is really lovely as soon as you get out of the commercial district. I left the Pacific Highway and took the coastal road. The view of Lennox Head as I came through the hills was spectacular, with craggy cliffs giving way to long beaches. Morning light danced on the ocean, and everything is green and increasingly tropical. On through lovely, rapidly changing countryside–forest, coastal scrub, beaches, towns–to Byron Bay.

Byron Bay is a beachfront town famous for its splendid beaches–and for being the eastern most point of mainland Australia. The town and nearby Cape Byron are largely surrounded by national parks and nature reserves. It’s a lovely area, and a very popular holiday spot for Aussies.

I left the main highway and headed up a series of narrow, winding roads that led through parkland and out onto Cape Byron, a rugged point of land that stretches out into the ocean. At the tip of the cape is the Cape Byron Lighthouse, which was built in 1901.

Fun little bit of history: Cape Byron was named by Captain Cook (most stuff was on this side of Australia) in honor of his navigator, John Byron, who would in time become the grandfather of the great poet, Lord Byron. Because people who settled the area originally assumed the cape had been named for the poet, rather than the navigator, the town ended up with a lot of very literary street names: Tennyson, Browning, Marvell, Ruskin, Wordsworth, and so on. Made me smile.

I hiked around the splendid, craggy, green-clad cape for about an hour, photographing distant mountains veiled in mist, crashing waves below, rocky cliffs, curving white beaches, the lighthouse, and all the foliage.

Heading north once more, I regained the Pacific Highway, only to leave it again at Mooball, to follow the Tweed Coast Road–a blending of gorgeous horse properties, tacky beach communities, and glorious beaches and headlands.

Before too much longer, I crossed the state border into Queensland, and a little before noon, I was in Currumbin. On my first trip to Australia, very early in my stay, I visited the wildlife sanctuary in Currumbin. It was my first immersion in the birds and wildlife of Australia. I’ve since seen more out bush, but I still wanted to return.

They had changed the name, from Currumbin Bird Santuary to Currumbin Wildlife Sanctuary, and there was a greater emphasis on animals this time—but it was still fabulous. The birds were abundant and dazzling, but the larger numbers of kangaroos and wallabies made my heart sing. There were lots of other animals, of course, including plenty of koalas (which I happily photographed), but the ‘roos and wallabies were all about, grazing amidst the visitors, and I was overjoyed. I spent about 2-1/2 happy hours wandering through the beautiful grounds, photographing trees, flowers, and critters. It was wonderful.

Byron Bay

Cape Byron Lighthouse

August 24, part 3

Ballina is a somewhat low-key resort area, with an emphasis on water sports and seafood. As a result, there are dozens of motels. I had to backtrack a little, since I couldn’t read all the signs on my first pass (traffic moves pretty quickly), but it gave me a chance to assess my surroundings.

The All Seasons Motor Lodge is not quite as posh as last night’s lodgings, but then I suspect being in a resort area means you get slightly less bang for your buck. Also, the two previous locations have been in far lovelier settings, surrounded by trees and nature, rather than on a busy commercial street. But all that said, it’s still quite pleasant. As with the other places I’ve stayed, it has all the amenities one might want, including tea-making facilities. I just don’t imagine I’ll awaken to birds in the morning.

I settled in and then to a stroll through town. There are several nice little take-away shops and some pleasant-looking restaurants, several stores and small shops, a couple of car dealerships, and a massive RSL (Returned Servicemen League – like VFW in the U.S.) club that takes up a whole block and is a couple of stories high. It’s the kind of mix one expects in an area that focuses largely on sport fishing.

I stopped at a little open-front market and picked up some bananas, a custard apple (which I’d been told I must try), and an “ashi fruit” – or that’s what it sounded like. The lady running the market had to look it up, but she said it’s supposed to be sort of a cross between an apple and a pear. She was charming, and I chatted with her and a few other shoppers. Then back to the motel.

The restaurant here is not a bargain, but I’m tired and don’t feel like trudging off to see if I can find somewhere cheaper (possibly without success, in a resort area). Besides, so far, the restaurants in the motels where I’ve been booked have been quite good, with nice, fresh food.

And this was no exception. For “entrée” (which, in Australia, as in Britain, means the course that brings you into the meal—the appetizer—rather than, as in the U.S., the main course—and to be perfectly honest, this definition makes more sense) I had a prawn and bug cocktail (bugs here are what Europeans called “slipper lobsters”—a lovely, sweet crustacean). It was an extravagance, but it’s something I haven’t had since my last trip to Australia, so I couldn’t resist. My “main meal” was a whole, fresh red snapper, grilled with lemon-parsley butter. Delicious.
As has been the case so far in each place I’ve stopped, the menu was delightful and the restaurant was nearly empty. I hope this is a seasonal thing, and that warmer weather brings bigger crowds. It would be a pity if these places couldn’t stay in business.

After dinner, I went for a short, moonlit stroll around the block (looks like a full moon, or close to it, tonight). I then headed back to the room for an evening of sorting through documents and preparing for the next part of the trip.

August 24, part 2

The town of Dorrigo is a typical, old, veranda-dominated Aussie bush town, but it was not my destination. I drove through and then headed back to the Rainforest Center in Dorrigo National Park. Glorious mountain views. Simply reaching the park was a treat.

This area was first set aside for protection in 1901. Dorrigo National Park is part of the Gondwana Rainforests of Australia World Heritage Area. The rainforest is both ancient and lush. It’s the sort of place one could probably spend years researching, but happily, they have marked nature walks for those of us with slightly less time than that.

As was the case the first time I encountered a sub-tropical rainforest, on my first visit to Australia, so too now, I was delighted beyond words by the beauty that surrounded me. Palms and strangler figs, ferns and mosses, tree bases with buttress roots or covered in shelf fungus, vines and flowers, intense greenery everywhere, layers and layers of green, with small plants growing on larger plants–enclosing, almost overwhelming. Birds everywhere.

I hiked through the rainforest for a bit more than an hour. Because this is not a tropical rainforest, it does not have the benefit of permanent heat. The wind turned cold, and it actually sleeted while I was in the rainforest. At least, they called it sleet. Later research turned up the fact that Commonwealth countries are referring to a different type of precipitation than we Yanks are thinking of when we use the word. In the U.S., sleet is freezing rain. Over here, it’s a mix of rain and snow that partly melts as it falls–something like a cross between hail and snow, coming down as little, soft, white spheres.

Getting cold and wet was only a minor inconvenience, surrounded as I was with so much beauty, but it was also getting late, so time to head back down the mountain and continue on my way.

North, through crowded, commercialized Coffs Harbour, and back to the lonely roads, through fields and forest. Woolgoolga and Corindi, past Grafton, along (and over) the Clarence River.

Outside of Grafton, the countryside turns into sort of southern Illinois, but with sugarcane instead of corn. This is the only uninspiring stretch of road so far, but it’s still pleasant: flat land, with some run-down houses, but lush fields of green cane, yards with increasingly exotic flowers, beautiful horses at the scattered stud farms, and the broad, canal-like river to the left, only a few yards away.

Back toward the coast, and finally, around 4:30, into Ballina.

Dorrigo Park mountain view

Rainforest tree with vines and fungus