Road Works and Noisy Jets and Saved by Chocolate Biscuits

It has been a very noisy day. This morning I woke to a low humming sound that I assumed to be the water pump. I was totally wrong. There are trillions of miles of road around here but road workers have set up camp on the closest piece of road to my bedroom. As I look outside I see a man in a yellow jacket holding a road sign standing by my letterbox and as close as it is possible to get to the house. I briefly contemplate the possibility that he is spying on me. It seems so unlikely that he would choose the exact spot that is closest to my peaceful country hideaway

There are only two properties on this road and it isn’t even sealed, so I can’t believe the trucks and yellow graders have chosen today to vibrate the house with their incessant rolling back and forth past the property.

Then I had to call Telstra about an error on my account. Twice. The first time I got that annoying machine you have to speak to, and it passed me on to another annoying machine until I got lost in the system and had to call back. When I finally got through to a person he was the usual robot voiced foreigner that seems to be reading from a script. It took half an hour for what should have been a simple request.

In the afternoon I went out to ride to town to post some mail, buy some groceries and use the Internet at the information centre. It is about 5km’s to town and all up and down hills. By the first hill I was already tired and within 5 minutes I was off the bike and walking. It was like some sort of bizarre triathlon where the downhill is a bike ride and the uphill is a slow walk up the hill. Thirty minutes later I was hot, tired and, although I didn’t know it at the time, stressed and wound up.

Even though I called ahead getting my computer online proved tricky for the two ladies at the info centre who thought that if I plugged my laptop in, it might overload their system and blow it up. After some discussion I finally settled into the middle seat of the computer desk.

I was looking forward to time to catch up on about 130 emails that had arrived since I was last online and to the other work that I usually have all day to do. Then one of the two ladies came over and started to chat. She was a lovely friendly country woman, so I was happy to talk for a bit. Then the second lady came and did some photocopying on the machine on the other side of me and they began to talk across me.

Then a teenage boy replaced the first woman and started chatting with his mum, who was still noisily photocopying right next to my ear. Again I was piggy in the middle as the mother kept telling him how much he smelled and should buy deodorant. It was all a bit much and I told the lady I wasn’t worried about any smell when the noise of the photocopier was bothering me more.

I didn’t notice the woman leave until the man came over to tell me that when staff needed to use the photocopier, they had priority. I was embarrassed and annoyed and I acted in my usual calm and collected manner and insisted I had never meant for her to stop and then dissolved into tears of frustration.

The man was apologetic and the women were concerned. I tried to insist I was okay but it was quite obvious I wasn’t, so I got to use the computer alone while the staff huddled in the office for safety and probably wondered which loony bin I had escaped from. At least it kept the noisy woman away while I did the most urgent things I needed to, and after a bit of PR work and apologies all around I left feeling that it would be okay to come back again.

At the grocery store I was still feeling very sorry for myself. I had very little money but I made good use of it. I bought green vegetables for health and well being and chocolate biscuits and sarsaparilla for my soul.

I am so thankful that I have a bike to ride, but my bottom hurts, my legs are tired and my hands are sore. In addition I don’t look good on a too big boy’s bike and wearing a helmet that looks like a horse helmet in army green. I tell myself all the way back that at least I have a bike, …… over and over again.

For a poor non domestic type single woman, dinner was very good. I had my vegetables with chicken, and followed it with a home made apple crumble I had made earlier in the day. I also had the complete packet of chocolate biscuits and two glasses of fizzy. After all that I was feeling much better, at least until I spoke to Phil and found out he had peanut butter on toast for dinner. Now I feel guilty again. I thought I got over that when I turned 40 but I guess it is always there ready to pop up its little green head in times of stress. I wish I was there to make him dinner.

The day ended as it began with noisy machines, as an unusually loud jet passed overhead back and forth for a bit. Phil says there is an air force base near here; so much for the peace and quiet of the country.

I hope tomorrow is less stressful. I can’t afford to use the chocolate biscuit prescription too often.

Curious Cows, Flat Pears and Buzz Saw Insects

I woke this morning in time to watch a beautiful buttery yellow horizon turn to pink and then to the clear blue that stayed all day. I am in Queensland and it’s like a different country. It’s warmer and clearer and even the birds sound different. As I watch the dawn I try to count the species of birds I can hear and there are just too many. I can hear the familiar squeaky toy sounds I have heard before but it is backed up by scores of little staccato tweets and chirps and twitters of smaller birds. It is a marvellous way to wake up and helps set the tone for the day. After the disappointments of the day before I begin to feel much more positive about what is really just going to be an extended holiday. Even better I find my phone charger so if I get a little credit I might be able to use it to go online


It was so hard to say goodbye to Phil this morning, especially since I probably won’t see him for another six weeks, so I went for a ride up the road with him to get the last few minutes together. I then spent almost three hours walking the five kms back because I kept stopping to take scores of beautiful photos. The trees are twisty and wild looking and it has been raining so there is water in the streams and in puddles next to the road. Along with the many bird calls there is the insistent drone of buzzing insects that sound like intermittent and muffled chain saws.

There are termite mounds and duck ponds and little muddy creeks and fields of tall dry grasses. There is a farmer on a tractor ploughing his field while about twenty crows circle and land as he passes. There are tree studded paddocks with cows of muddy brown or patchy black and they all turn to watch me as I pass, and there are two steer on the property where I stay. I am happy to see them as they are part of my stewardship here at the farm but they are less than happy to see me walking along the dusty road towards them.

They watch suspiciously and turn and run off when I get too close. At one point they attempt to hide behind a few trees. They have to weigh four hundred kg’s each, it beats me why I should look so scary to them; or how they can think I will not see them behind a coupe of scraggy old trees.

I have one more look in the cemetery but the only thing I find is an unusual tree that seems to be hung with pictures of pears. They seemed far too flat and shiny to be real, but on closer inspection, turn out to be pairs of green seed pods. What an amazing country.

Gulgong - The Town on the Old Ten Dollar Bill

The place was a shambles of old rusty bits of machinery, broken down structures and what was left of some old burnt out railway hand cars. We loved it.

My partner and I had come with a friend and his two children to a park on the edge of Gulgong, near Mudgee. We loved exploring almost as much as the kids did. There were small holes in the ground surrounded by broken concrete walls and the deep dark depth of a steep sided mine hole that was just visible under a metal trellis that seemed less strong than I would have expected. Towering above it, an old wooden a-framed pylon with a small wheel at the top and nearby, next to the blackened rail cars, a huge yellow rusty specimen of a mining conveyor belt. It looks heavy and must have been very noisy when operating, not to mention a hazard for fingers and loose clothing.

Our favourite was the large old crushing machine, which we all spent some time climbing. The central point of the park is a large spiral shaped structure to commemorate mining families in the region and the whole park is optimistically labeled as a mining museum.

It’s not like any museum I have seen before but it has two very great advantages; we could touch everything and be as noisy as we wanted. We explored all the little holes, tried all the levers and climbed over everything that seemed stable enough. We also discovered lots of sharp edged white quartz stones with shiny flecks on the ground.

It is a nice change from the usual playgrounds, even if it is rather burnt, damaged and rusty in places. It reminds me of the fun I used to have scouring the local rubbish dump with my dad in the days before work site safety made it illegal.

Gulgong has a lot to offer for such a small town of just over 2,000 people. It was apparently one of the last places where poor people could set up a camp and try their luck at gold mining and before that, it was home to a large aborigine tribe that named it “Deep water”.

Gulgong is probably most famous as the place where the poet Henry Lawson spent much of his childhood. Henry Lawson’s poems and short stories are a reminder of regional Australia in times past. He writes about every day life including a somber poem about his time in jail called “One hundred and three”. You can hear it on Youtube and it weaves an atmosphere that certainly fits with the visit I had to an old jail in the area.

Gulgong is one of the most unique towns I have visited. The town center is narrow and the original old two story balconied buildings close in on a narrow street with a few cars. There are many beautiful old buildings here, including some of historical significance. Gulgong is well worth a visit and if you need one more reason to call by. It is the town that was featured on the ten dollar note until 1991 when the notes were all replaced with new designs printed on polymer instead of paper. Now that is quite something.

Rain, Rocks and Aboriginal Art

It’s raining and it has been all day. The sky is grey and damp and to make it worse it is cold. How did this happen? I came to Oz for the better weather. At least it is 2010 and I can put on my woolly jumper and fluffy slippers and sit in front of the heater.

I am still in Mudgee, three hours from Sydney and between the two are the beautiful Blue Mountains. There are some marvellous Rocky Outcrops in the Blue Mountains and some beautiful views over the great canyon like chasms. There is also an exquisite collection of cathedral like caves about an hour from Katoomba. These caves are one of Australia’s biggest tour attractions and house a thriving industry. Each cave costs at least $20 to visit and there are day tours of underground caves that cost $200, but even for the cheapskate like me it is worth a visit. Earlier this year, I explored the surrounding ponds and walkways and marvelled at the road that runs through a natural cave like tunnel under the mountain. It is an unusual feature of the attraction, and quite breath-taking.

Last week I found out that Mudgee has some lovely features of its own and went exploring with my partner. About thirty minutes out of town there is a huge curved wall of damp and striated rock called The Drip and nearby another rock wall of Aboriginal art called “Hands on Rock”.

The walk to The Drip is one of the prettiest I have ever seen. It follows the channel made by a small river over many years. The rocks are stunning all along the way and in several spots it seems like huge blocks have been hewn from the rock by giants and thrown down in a fit of temper. There are amazing patterns rippled through the rock and one wall is deeply pockmarked like a giant Swiss cheese. We wondered if it is where small crustaceans were buried in ancient times leaving a softer spot that dissolved over the centuries.

The drip itself is a long curved wall of rock and damp with a green tinge from the some sort of moss. There is greenish water in ponds at the base but friends tell us then when it has been raining, the pools get much larger and more beautiful.

It takes a while for the GPS to kick in, but when it does we find the small round container hidden on top of a nearby rock that we came to find. I love finding these little treasures. It feels like I am in on a secret. Although many thousands of them are placed across Australia, most people are totally unaware that they even exist and walk right on by. Looking for them is also a marvellous excuse to visit these wonderful areas. I wouldn’t even have known about these beautiful formations if I wasn’t hunting for geocaches.

The walk into the Hands on Rock is shorter and although it is only a few kilometres away the scenery is very different. As we arrive I glimpse a large grey kangaroo and a marvellous formation of rocks like a collection of castle turrets. The path wanders through a bush area full of those marvellous straggly looking trees with crooked limbs and woody undergrowth. It had a silent sort of sombre feel and I am deeply affected. Apparently the dry and tangled bush here is, much as it would have been when the original artists lived here.

The pictures were made by the Wiradjuri people by spraying a mixture of ochre and liquid over their hands as a record of their visit. It is not known how long ago this artwork was made but it is very old. Barriers have been erected to keep people back but I wonder whether it will be enough to protect it. The Maori rock carving I saw in New Zealand had little neon graffiti marks in amongst the art.

On the way home we find Frog Rock. This is a feature I have wanted to see since I arrived in Mudgee as it is a well known landmark. It turns out I have passed it several times without realising it was there. It was just on dusk when we arrived so the photo does not do it justice but it does look a bit like a frog if you squint your eyes… and if you have a good imagination. I put the photo together with another unusual rock formation we have christened Hippo Rock.

I am amazed by the wonderful features tucked away in the Australian bush and the small unobtrusive signs that point the way. Phil has lived in Australia all his life and says that there are many places as beautiful.

It is my lifes goal to see as many as I can.

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Mary St. Clair - A Bizarre Story from Mudgees History

I am enjoying Mudgee, and while reading about its rich history I found the following strange tale of robbery, accusations and intrigue.

In 1874 Mary was a middle aged woman living in a nice home in Gulgong near Mudgee. Marys husband had deserted her; so she went to work for other people and in five years had managed to save up £60 which was a large sum of money in those days.

Subsequently, her husband returned to the neighbourhood and, Mary came home one day and found that all her money had been stolen.

Mary must have been very angry. Possibly swearing, shouting and tear your hair out angry.

The local constable was called. She tried to explain what had happened but he didn’t believe her story and arrested her for swearing. As if that wasn’t bad enough, things got even worse. The constable then decided from her attitude, that she was mentally ill. He believed she was suffering an attack of “Lunacy “ and from a “disordered intellect” and sent her off to Mudgee Gaol.

Mudgee Gaol has been dismantled but I have seen the nearby Dubbo Gaol. It is dark, damp and depressing and the amenities in those days were sparse. The bed was a mat on a board with one blanket, and the cell was cramped and dark with one tiny window up high and a peephole in the door. There is also a padded cell, with no windows. I suspect you could develop a mental disorder if you spent any time in there.

Mary spent several weeks in Gaol, but fortunately, the gaol medical officer and another “medical gentleman” were sent to examine her and when she was finally seen by the magistrate she was declared sane and able to go home.

It was only then that the authorities finally listened to her story and found her money. It had been deposited in a bank in the nearby town of Dubbo but the bank manager would not say who had banked it. It sounds like it was never recovered.

I can only imagine the disruption this was to her life. Perhaps she was a woman with a history of causing trouble and the officer was an unsympathetic and harsh man who was quick to judge and slow to listen. She could also have been a decent woman who had a perfectly justified fit of anger over losing money and the constable was trying to do his best to resolve the situation.

One thing is for sure, I am so glad I didn’t live in those days. In the late 1800’s the law was harsh and unyeilding. The constables, magistrates and prison warders had a lot of power and prisoners could be flogged, isolated in black cells, chained or beaten and for many years, hangings were held in the gaol grounds.

Luckily for Mary her story didn’t end there.

In a final bizarre twist, while Mary was at court before her release, the magistrate pulled her aside and asked her if she knew that she had inherited £1,000 from a relative who had passed away in England. From the reports it seems that Mary was not surprised and continued to press for the return of her money.

I would like to know what happened to Mary. She sounds like quite a character.

You can find the original newspaper account by clicking the link below

http://newspapers.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/5880617

When is a Cemetery not a Cemetery?

This is a cemetery

And this is a park

But there is no one buried in the first, it is just a display of headstones, and there are graves under the grass in the park.

The first is the memorial cemetery I found in Mudgee yesterday. The headstones were removed from the park area so it would be a neighbourhood rest area.

It is now a large flat "rest area" bordered by unremarkable homes. It is one of the less attractive parks I have seen and there is nothing there but a few pieces of play equipment, some rather ordinary looking trees and one large concrete memorial surrounded by an unfriendly looking fence.

James Blackman is believed to be the first European Settler to find the land around Mudgee, so his family memorial has not been removed out of respect. If I was him I would rather have had my memorial removed.

The new memorial is clean, orderly and clearly a cemetery, even though there are no graves here, just headstones and memorials.

The reclaimed park area seems desolate. It has too many trees to be a sports ground, and too few to be a nice picnic or play area. The trees are unremarkable, even straggly and the grass doesn’t seem healthy. Knowing that the Blackman family is buried here, and that other bones must lie under the ground I am walking on, seems creepy. Isn’t it still a cemetery even though most of the headstones have been removed?

I think they should have left the stones where they were. The memorial is only a few streets from where the stones used to lie. It seems like an unnecessary intrusion for little gain.

What do you think?

Padded Swords and Goat Skulls

Recently I took a ferry trip down the beautiful Brisbane river to New Farm, a riverside suburb between the city and the airport.

I stepped off the ferry to the sound of a band playing “singing in the rain” and people absolutely everywhere. The winter sky was overcast and threatened a little rain, but mild temperatures mean people here can enjoy the outdoors all year around. There were people picnicking, relaxing, smelling the roses, celebrating birthdays, sleeping and hundreds more playing sports from Frisbee to soccer and rugby, and in a small field at the back where the trees are ringed by fences, they were trying to place a goat skull on a stick.

I have never seen this game before and found it on the Internet. It is called “Jugger” and is a medieval game where two teams of five battle it out with padded weapons and a plastic ball on a chain and try to get their goat head onto a stake at the other end of the field to score a point.

It looks like a lot of fun.

The hits are intended to be touches (not great wallops) and the game lasts as long as it takes for someone to throw 100 stones against a gong. When players are hit they then kneel down for a predetermined number of gong hits.

Apparently it has been played in four major Australian cities since 2001, we sent teams to Berlin in 2008 and the team will return to Germany this year to play the Germans, Spanish, Irish, Americans and Dutch. . How cool is that?

Once I could tear myself away from the people whacking each other with great big padded weapons, I continued to explore the surrounding park and found;
A huge fenced area just for dogs. (The land here has to be worth million dollars easy)

A wonderful, (and fun for kids), way to show the river flood level.

An Ibis looking for a cigarette butt.

And a notice worth noticing

It’s a wonderful and magnificent world with still so much to learn.

If you haven’t subscribed to my blog yet, please do so because I can bet you anything there are many, many more surprising things for me to write about yet. Or leave a comment. I would love to hear about your most surprising find.