The beatification of Castle Hill

This is the story of how the saint came to be painted on the side of Castle Hill in Townsville. It is told of course from my perspective... ie mine having interviewed my Aunty...

The year was 1963***. A Townsville campus of the University of Queensland had just opened. This was a big benefit to the town as prior to the opening of this campus students from all over the far north were obliged to go to Brisbane if they wanted an education beyond high school level. My mother and my eldest aunty did just that, living in Brisbane for several years to get their tertiary qualifications during the 1950s.
The first intake of students at the Townsville campus wasn’t terribly large, say about 200. Most were drawn from country Qld. About 25 local kids attend and were encouraged to welcome those who were new to town and show them the ropes.
Among the Townsville kids was my Aunty. Youngest of my mothers siblings and evidently following in her Dad’s footsteps. My grandfather was something of a larrikin.
The academic year was divided into 3 terms. At the end of first term was an institution known as Commem Week. Commem Week was a traditional time of highjinks for the university students. My mother recalls a stunt that the uni students pulled for Commem week in Brisbane when she was there in training college. A group of students walked bold as brass into one of the court rooms carrying a long ladder while court was in session. They erected the ladder behind the judge and proceeded to remove the clock from the courtroom wall. They walked out without a murmur of protest from anyone! So you can see the students on the Townsville campus in its inaugural year had something of a challenge to live up to the standards set by their southern brethren if they were not to be labelled as pretty tame country bumpkins come commem week.

As you can imagine, in the early days of the campus there were many questions and uncertainties hanging in the air. Directions to be decided and pursued in all sorts of areas as the character and spirit of the campus was established. There was an air of questions and possibilities abroad including how the establishment of the local university campus would impact the town.
For those unfamiliar with Townsville, it is important to know that it lies on a fairly low lying flood plain surrounded by mountains. Dominating the town itself, solitary Castle hill rises above the town and shows a prominent face of pink granite to the sea and over the Strand which runs along the ocean frontage. Castle Hill was not a subtle landmark for small 1960s Townsville, as indeed it is not today. It has always provided a popular lookout with expansive views that locals are rather proud of. Castle Hill
It was a collective burst of brilliance by a group of students that had them decide that the perfect commem week stunt would be to paint a huge question mark in whitewash on the side of Castle Hill. The stunt was to be carried out prior to the Commem week ball.
First of course they needed transport and for this purpose three students were able to provide vehicles. An oldsmobile, a morris oxford and my aunty brought along my grandfathers Vanguard. Next of course you need a volunteer to go over the side with the paint brush. A mature age student (who will remain nameless in this publication) put his hand up. This plucky fellow also supplied a very long rope. To be sure the rope was strong enough, the students tested it prior to going up to the hill by tying it securely and having a large group of students grab it and run like mad give the rope a hefty tug. Satisfied that it would not send their trusty volunteer plummeting to his death the students with their whitewash and gear assembled at the top of Castle Hill in the dead of night to do the deed.
One end of the rope was tied securely to a very large rock . The other end was tied to the volunteer artist around his waist and through his legs and he was lowered over the side of the hill. In the midst of the proceedings a car came up the hill and a flutter of alarm ran through the students who were up to no good. However it turned out it was just a couple who had come to go parking.
In my aunty’s recollection the question mark must have been something in the order of 15 – 16 feet high. She recalls quite a bit of rope went over the side during the course of the work..
As my mother recalls it when the citizens of Townsville awoke to find their beloved Castle Hill so shamelessly vandalised there was a public outcry. The citizenry was outraged. Feeling ran very high and the activity was a criminal offence to boot. It is only in recent years that we youngsters of the family even became aware of the scandal let alone the deep dark family secret of my Auntys suspected involvement. It was the evil that dare not speak its name… But of course this is only part of the story we are still left with a whitewashed question mark ….patience dear reader.
Of course the hillside artwork was only an element of the artistic hyjinks, another touch was to paint little footsteps coming out of the sewer grate along the footpath and up to the nightsafe of the bank and then back to the sewer…
Now one night of large scale public vandalism does not a commem week celebration make. There was also a parade where the students pushed the boundaries of decency to an extent that went somewhat above the heads of the local police officers…parade highlights that went ahead after police vetting included three guys dressed up in sheets with a placard saying – “Did you see the three huns walking - down the vue de mond with Ginger Rogers*?” and another group with a placard reading “Is there life on Uranus? If not check on Mars.”
There was also a wheelbarrow full of horse manure entitled “passed by the censors”. .. actually that one is quite subtle - I only just got the additional level of meaning now..LOL
A third rather clever placard requires more explaining. The local mayor was named Angus Smith. Among to other council dignitaries were a Mr Thrust and a Mr Parry. The students managed to acquire a black Angus calf and lead it along with a sign saying “Aberdeen Angus: it’s the bull that gets you there. Politics is full of Thrust and Parry.”
Unfortunately there was a price to pay for all the efforts of preparation. My aunty had a date for the commem week ball, but having been out all night decorating Castle Hill and preparing the floats for the parade etc she went home to bed the morning of the ball and slept through until the next day. Her date arrived to pick her up and my grandmother was obliged to report that aunty was still asleep. He decided he’d go home to bed too… so both missed the ball.
About 8 days later was Anzac Day. It was decided that the students would march in the annual parade. As they started out they softly repeated the question “who put the question mark on Castle Hill?” creating a low hum. As they went along the chant became progressively louder.
….so you can see the students of the Townsville Campus of the University of Queensland were doing what they must to fulfil their obligation to needle the older generations..
As is the way with whitewash, after a few months the rains came and the question mark was fading away. By this time the students had become rather fond of it however so later in 1963, flushed with their earlier success the same group repainted the question mark in durable paint. The deed was done in broad daylight this time.
Clearly things were getting beyond the pale from the point of view of the local community in general and the Air Force (who have a substantial base in Townsville) who went in and painted out the question mark with a large green square of paint.
The following year, not to be beaten, and no doubt keen to make the stunt their own, a group of students, whom my Aunty believes were from Mackay, painted the first saint on the side of Castle Hill over the green paint. This group of students has come forward now and there names are a matter of public record. Clearly the student body collectively considered this to be something of an enhancement to the statement of student rebellion. It became a tradition that the students would repaint and maintain the saint. Over time the green square faded away. We don’t know if the students at what is now James Cook University (JCU) maintain this tradition today. Certainly the saint is still there, so someone is maintaining it.
The saint took on a life of its own over the years. At JCU all the sporting trophies had the saint on them. My grandfather was active in the community and a stalwart of the local football club and was presented with a plaque of appreciation which was also adorned with the saint. Unfortunately we don’t know what became of that plaque. I imagine one of my northern cousins may have been given it as a momento of him.

..so that dear reader is the story of the beatification of Castle Hill as told to me by my Aunty and with input from my mum who was also resident in Townsville at that time …

Further information on the saint of castle hill may be found here

*** as Aunty tells the story.. but when we think about these events in relation to other dates that are more concrete 1963 doesn't quite add up... for example my parents moved to Sydney late in 1962.. my sister was born in Townsville in May 1962 and mum helped aunty collect sea creature specimens at Cape Palarenda for the Uni when it opened .. discovering a new creature along the way.. ...now as mum recalls it she was living in Townsville when the graffiti outrage took place.. though she had no idea her sister was involved at the time....

*for the younger generation or others baffled by this placard: "roger" in this context was a euphemism for "penis"

..and if you are still puzzled by the horse manure reference, the subtle insinuation is that the censors are a lot of horses arses... not just that the stuff they allow to be shown is horse shit.

This is working?

Middle of winter in Sydney and end of the working year. It’s time for a divisional planning day and team building after a couple of years of work on some big projects. Time to reward and refocus. A couple of colleagues have done a brilliant job sussing out the options and democratic vote has us heading off to Q-station on north head at Manly. Q Station is the old Quarantine station. A beautiful historic setting with a collection of heritage buildings.
We meet at circular quay on the western side near the Museum of Contemporary Art and the water taxi jetty. The weather is looking cold and it’s raining. We are all loaded up with luggage as though we’re going away for the weekend which causes much laughter and comment. Unavoidable as we voted to go kayaking in Manly for our team activity so will need towels and change of clothes. Mostly we are coming to the conclusion that we must be mad and will likely catch our deaths of cold. None have piked it though.
We pile into a large water taxi and head off to the Q station. This is the way to travel! The conversation is excited and there’s lots of laughter. Our driver cuts across in front of the Narrabeen (Manly Ferry) and is rewarded by a couple of loud blasts on the ferry horn. A colleague takes a few snaps of the ferry from out in front. Great perspective. If you have a group water taxi across to Q station is brilliant. We all loved every minute..We pull up at the Q station jetty and as we approach several great cormorant and little black cormorant are disturbed and fly off into the harbour.
We are met by the Q station shuttle bus and all pile in for a ride up to the conference room where tea and coffee is waiting. I’ve been to the quarantine station before for planning and team building days, but it’s a while and before the lease to a private operator. The new operators are doing a fabulous job with the place and it's apparent immediately upon landing. There's a waterfront restaurant and theatre down here near the beach. All over the site the buildings are being restored and refurbished, the turf and landscaping restored. We settle in and do a bit of a checking out of the refurbished accommodation. 4 star. It looks lovely. From the top of the hill here is a wonderful perspective on the harbour.
We knuckle down to work. Morning tea is provided and we are all blown away with the quality. Everything is made on the premises, they even bring in their own pastry chefs. The pain au chocolate is crisp and still warm from the oven. Outstanding! Skewers of seasonal fruit with yoghurt for dressing – delicious, and vegetable samosas with mango chutney. Nothing is left over and we all decide it’s just as well we’re getting some exercise this afternoon!
We continue our discussion of divisional priorities and projects for the next year and finish up right on time for lunch. This requires a walk down to the dining room where a beautiful buffet of delicious salads and various panini, mini bagels, and bruschetta is laid out. Everything is delicious and just the right amount of food. Delectable mini bread and butter puddings with a velvety custard cream to dress it and lovely fresh squares of gateaux. We linger after lunch chatting with our host about the development plans for the site. The food and beverage manager comes out to take our compliments on the quality of the catering. The plans for the site all sound great and so wonderful to have a competent operator making the most of this fabulous community asset, increasing access but protecting the heritage and natural environment of the site – including the endangered bandicoots. I am very relieved - years ago when the site first stopped operating there was talk of selling the site off for development. That would have been a crime against the community, so you can imagine the outcry at the time.
Lunch over, with much trepidation we change into our clothes that we can get wet and head for the meeting place for the bus down to the beach. They are in the process of putting a stairway down to the beach but for now there's only the roadway as far as we know. We are all anxiously observing the weather which is still threatening rain. I’m dreading taking my shoes off…there is much excited laughter and discussion along the lines of OMG what were we thinking?! We meet the fellow from Manly Kayaks at the jetty and are directed to the gate in the fence that has been erected to protect the penguin habitat. There’s an array of get ups, everything from leggings, jeans, shorts. Some have waterproof shoes most are bare foot. The men in the party are congratulated on their fortitude heading out in bare legs! I’ve got my waterproof jacket over a thick tracky top and an old pair of comfy stretch jeans. We listen intently to our paddling instructions, though everyone is pretty excited and there is also much laughter. We don our lifejackets (surprisingly comfortable) and launch our kayaks. Your bum definitely gets wet! However it’s not cold. We still can’t believe we’re doing this in the rain in the middle of winter. Most are in double kayaks, but I’ve volunteered to go in the single kayak, as I’ve paddled before – and I find it easier on my own anyway. We were supposed to practice skills for a bit, but everyone is feeling pretty comfortable so we paddle off around to Store Beach. In one of our kayaks the team just isn’t working so our guide in the rescue boat suggests they head in to the beach and swap places. This does the trick and they are right from then on. We are given a run down on Store Beach, part of the national park and only accessible by water. Along the shore of the small headlands the rocks are crusted with oysters and the kelp beds are clearly visible through the crystal waters. There’s a bit of rubbish floating in the water. No doubt washed into the harbour by the rain. As I head in towards the beach a tern flies overhead which makes me smile.
Back in from the beach a small waterfall is running onto the sand. This beach has a penguin colony, and so our guide emphasises that if you come to this beach on the weekend you must absolutely not bring pets or the smell they leave on the beach will stop the penguins breeding. We don’t see any penguins at this time of day of course. I’m sure most of us forget to even look for them in the water along the way as we’re having so much fun paddling and trying to perfect our technique.
This water level perspective on the national park and the harbour generally is brilliant. And in this weather we’ve got the place to ourselves. It is AWESOME. I can’t believe I’ve never done this before. I’m in heaven. Along the way from time to time showers of rain pass over, but we hardly notice and it certainly doesn’t bother any of us.
Next we paddle around to Collins beach. I stop to watch a large sea bird fly over, by the shape I’d guess an Australasian Gannet. Congregating in the bay near the beach we have a chat about a proposal by the NSW Police Force to upgrade their training facilities that we can see up on the hill. It’s a controversial proposal. One thing about residents of Manly and the northern beaches, any proposal like that, which could negatively impact the local bushland or parks areas will be met by vigorous scrutiny and very active community comment and lobbying. You won’t find apathy on such matters in this part of Sydney that’s for absolute certain. The local rag, The Manly Daily is read by just about every local and it’s also very active in leading community dissent on such things.
Now confident in our technique we head across towards Manly cove and into the bigger swell. Up to now we’ve been in the calmer more protected areas. It’s a little harder going, but it is a very calm day on the water and it’s great fun. There’s some people fishing from the water’s edge, but mostly it is pretty quiet with few people around. We gather for group photos and proceed down to gather again outside the skiff club where a fur seal has taken up residence for the last few weeks. It looks like a brown blob. One colleague had mistaken it for a bag of rubbish. We laugh, it’s good to see but a bit underwhelming at the same time. We alight at the beach in Manly cove collect our valuables which have been kept safe and dry in the rescue boat. One group manages to catch the only wave around and arrives in great style sort of side on, with much laughter. Lots of excited chatter and mutual teasing and we head off to the skiff club where arrangements have been made for us to have a shower and change. The paddle has only taken us about an hour. If the weather had been better we probably would have stopped on the beach for a bit of a game or something and that would have taken longer naturally. When we're clean and dry we spend a couple of hours having a chat and a drink in the waterfront bar which is warm and cosy with a great casual ambience looking out over the boats to Manly wharf.
As the sun sets we make our way around to the wharf and loiter in the outside bar of the Wharf Hotel. It's quite a mild night and we are all quite comfortable outside. The taxi is a smaller boat this time giving a more bouncy ride over the swell and we have a fun ride with cheers and laughter as we ride the waves. The lights of Sydney are always beautiful, though for some reason none of us understand, the opera house and bridge are not lit up tonight. Safely deposited back at the taxi wharf, it’s a short walk to the old sailor’s mission and dinner at Sailors Thai. As we disembark we all agree that next year we should go to Q station again, but stay the Thursday night and take the ghost tour.
At Sailors Thai the ambience is very nice with the bare convict hewn sandstone a dominating feature. Service was very good and nicely casual. Thai is not really my scene as a whole and the preordering process we undertook internally was a bit odd resulting in a strange way to have a thai meal ( which is no fault at all of the restaurant of course) but the deserts are unusual and delicious. It’s not your average thai – very upmarket. Everyone enjoyed their meal. You’re looking at $40 a main, close to $30 for starters and about $14- 14 for dessert.
It’s been a long but fabulous day. Once a sceptic on corporate team building activities from the first time I actually went on one I've been a total convert. It has such a clear payoff in productivity, motivation and team functionality... and boy we really needed this one!
Q Station is definitely on my agenda for a weekend break sometime soon. I would highly recommend the kayaking and if I were doing it again I’d probably choose to do it in winter. The only thing that would really put me off is if the water is too rough. I wasn’t cold for a single moment the whole time. The coldest part was getting around wet to the skiff club, but even that wasn't bad. It was absolutely brilliant. Highly recommended.

Q Station
Manly Kayaks
Water taxi
Manly wharf hotel
Manly Skiff Club

Illawarra Fly Tree Top Walk et al

Posts are a little out of order. This trip was undertaken on 29 June 2008.

We’ve had a long period of quiet hibernation at home and I’m starting to climb the walls. The lack of opportunity to walk whilst in the mountains with the nephews has led to a back up jaunt today for sanity’s sake. It was a possibility for our anniversary trip, but what the heck, we decide to take a run down to the southern highlands and check out the Illawarra Fly Tree Top walk.
We’re late getting away it’s 12:45 pm, so we don’t dilly dally with scenic routes today and just head off to Robertson via the quickest route – though that’s not too shabby for scenery in any case. It is again glorious sunny winter weather and as we pull up at the carpark we shouldn't be so surprised to see the huge number of cars in the carpark displaying number plates from a range of States and the ACT. They’ve built a very large carpark, and clearly their estimate of what would be required is pretty much on the mark, though there’s no need to hunt for a space at this stage.
When last I was here very shortly after opening it looked like some aspects of construction weren’t quite done with with trucks and so on still on site. Today things are clearly rocking along, but it gives off a strong whiff of tourist trap. On a busy day this late in the afternoon it’s looking a bit tired with the heavy patronage. There are still people lining up for tickets and after a quick check of the café we join them and say goodbye to $19 per adult. We are given a map along with a brief verbal description of the walk and are advised that the walk should take about 45 minutes.
We head off down the track lined with recent plantings. Along the way are a series of numbered information points with brief text in our map brochure to match the numbered points. The number signs are positioned fairly hastily and though I’ve done this kind of walk a number of times in similar vegetation communities I don’t find it easy to identify the particular plant they are talking about. As we round a corner the path heads suddenly downhill quite steeply and I am very glad I didn’t bring my mum. There is a roar of noise of people coming from the direction of the walk, which doesn’t bode well I think to myself. We commence on the suspended walk itself and I’m a bit bemused by the level of noise the whole contraption makes. It creaks and groans with ours and other peoples activity along the walkway. The forest below shows the signs of the construction process, but has been planted out and mulched in the disrupted areas and they seem to have kept the disruption to a minimum. It’s kind of interesting looking down on the tree ferns from above, but it’s not mind blowingly awesome and anyway I don’t like looking down very much…so maybe I'm not a good judge. The views along the walk itself are very lovely, but fairly typical for the area. We climb up Knights Tower which is a sort of crows nest and the views from there are about as good as it gets over lake Illawarra and the ocean as well as inland to the ranges. To the east and slightly south is Bass Point. As I emerge from the staircase I run straight into a work colleague and his family – small world, but then he does live not so far away from here. We take our time over the view and climb down. The next viewing spot is out to the eastern extremity of the walk and the views are fairly similar. Knights Tower is the killer view though. Nothing much to detain us so we head on up the hill and notice that there is a collection point for people with mobility problems. These people are collected in a kind of golf buggy type vehicle. As predicted we are done and dusted in about 45 minutes. Not a bird in sight in the treetops. Can’t blame them. If I was a bird I’d keep well away. Perhaps in time it will all settle down a bit.
I decide to show hubby the competition and take him down to Illawarra lookout in Barren Grounds Nature Reserve. This is more my style for interacting with nature. There are already – or should that be still – flowers in the heath. Bright little tea tree stars brighten the greyish green of the heath land and banksias are flowering in profusion. Along the walk we suddenly come across a hot spot of birds. A grey shrike thrush, the ubiquitous New Holland Honeyeaters, eastern spinebills, thornbills, yellow faced honeyeaters. After a while I spot a lewins honeyeater. After watching the spinebills and the new hollands flitting about the lewins looks huge, though it also is not a very big bird. Crimson rosellas fligh past to alight on a low tree about 20 metres off. Maybe nothing terribly unusual but this is heaven to me anyhow. Last time I came here on this very path I happened upon a conference of spotted pardalotes. Dozens of spotted pardolotes, close enough to see with the naked eye males, females, youngsters. Unreal. They have to be up there with the most beautiful Australian birds, though this exquisite little bird is also very tiny. They were landing on the ground in front of me, perching in groups of a dozen or more in one small open branched shrub, then gradually flitting of to another nearby perch. I was absolutely transfixed with sheer joy in watching them.
After a little while I catch up with hubby who a little way further on at the turn off to the lookout. We take in the wonderful view. Naturally I say – see – this is the competition. Free.
We set of back to the car. As we walk the views to the west are expansive. We set a course for Berrima to check out the eating options. It’s 5 oclock and we’re a little early for the Journeyman with reopens for dinner at 5:30. The restaurant across the road is closed Sunday night. We couldn’t be bothered waiting around, though Berrima is quiet with the day trippers and weekenders having departed. There is the sniff of woodsmoke in the crisp mountain air. It is delightful. We hop back in the car and head home.
Along the way we spot a wombat walking towards the road. We slow and hope he doesn’t venture out. He’s safe as we pass but there is a steady stream of cars behind us. Hopefully they will keep their wits about them at this dangerous evening time period.
Travelling back along the highway the sky is a fairy floss confection of pale orange, pink and purple. We watch as the orange fades out and the deeper purples blend in with the pink and then that ruddy smudge at the horizon behind the silhouette of trees and finally the darkness.
Another lovely afternoon in the highlands.
Thinking about the Illawarra fly I conclude that it is, and will be a very valuable additional to the local scene. You can do a day trip down from Sydney on the Cockatoo Run – a heritage rail trip on an old scenic rail line no longer used for the main stream railways. It stops with views over the coast also and has an option where they provide a coach to take you to the Illawarra fly then back for the return trip on the train. Not everyone can hire a car while in Sydney and there’s no need to go into the Barren Grounds as well as the visit the Fly. This is good. Not everyone appreciates the beauty of the heathland, whereas many enjoy the rainforest. It reduces pressure on this critical wildlife habitat that the reserve protects. So I would encourage visitors to support the fly… and you really won’t see a better view of the coast than it provides.
The website for the fly says it is awesome in the mist and I can well imagine that would be true. Like walking suspended in a cloud.

http://www.illawarrafly.com/

http://www.3801limited.com.au/

barren grounds link

A Perfect Day

Today is a milestone celebration. Hubby and I married 25 years today. It was touch and go for a while but both of us have managed to get the day off work. Unfortunately an overnight isn’t possible though. Hubby suggests we fulfil a long standing list item and take a drive out to Kanangra Walls in the Blue Mountains World Heritage Area, or more specifically, Kanangra Boyd National Park.
Though it’s a glorious sunny clear winter’s day we pack up the car with some sleeping bags and water and picnic set and some starvation rations. Insurance against breakdown in whatever remote spot we might happen to go through. We’re filled with petrol and on the road not long after 8 am. It’s still Sydney commuter peak hour so we decide to give the motorways a miss and head up the northern road which we join at Bringelly.
As we wind our way up the mountains the weather closes in and we have light showers of rain. We give a prayer that the western side of the ranges is getting some of it.

By 10:05 we are through the mountains and taking the turn off to Jenolan Caves. The road is perched along the edge of steep mountainside and in the final stages narrows considerably. Careful driving is essential. There are a few rest stops along the way with fireplaces and picnic tables and views across the road to the narrow valley. Finally we come to the dramatic Grand Arch at Jenolan Caves and drive carefully through, on the lookout for pedestrians as we admire this natural tunnel. We make a brief comfort stop at the Jenolan Caves facilities at approx 10:50am and continue our way to the national park negotiating the hairpin curves carefully and noting a number of accommodation places along the way.

The road is sealed all the way until the park entrance, where a pay and display station is located well before the park signs and maps. The elevation is about 1250 metres. Almost as soon as we hit the park we spot a wedge tailed eagle circling above the park.

It’s a fairly wide straight unsealed road out to Kanagra Walls. The road surface today is very smooth. Dirt roads don’t get too much better than this. In the early stage of the drive we pass though an open area of grassland bounded by high country forest. The parks website says the park includes snow gum forest, but I’m no expert on identifying snow gums – anyway they look like small eucalypts.

Turning a curve in the road – fortunately not driving overly fast - we disturb an eastern grey kangaroo on the road. The rest of its mob are nearby in the grass and all stand up straight to see what’s going on. There is a high wind blowing and the roos look like they are rather surprised to see people out and about today. They disperse in graceful bounds as I open the car door to snap some photos of the beautiful grasses that sway and dance in the buffeting wind. Georgeous. Grasses swaying in the wind always reminds me of my elder daughter, who at age 7 when visiting my cousin’s cane farm in Far North Queensland after snorkelling on the barrier reef commented that the grass swaying in the wind looked like a sea anemone swaying in the current…



We move on and back into the cover of the forest and very soon after a wallaby bounds off. This bodes well so far! The scenery is fairly consistent for most of the drive with thin trunked trees in large numbers fairly densely packed. A good proportion of scribbly gum amongst it. We’re driving at a reasonable pace, and hubby isn’t too attentive to birds but as we go we see some tantalising glimpses. A grey shrike thrush flying up. Was that a quail thrush scurrying off the verge? Then a group of what looked like maybe thornbills, a clear rich buff rump clearly visible as they fly, but we pass too quick for anything more concrete in the way of identification. There is a camp ground along the way by the road at Boyd River. The NPWS website says you get all manner of wildlife at this camp at night. I scheme for a campout when the weather warms up a bit.
As we move on bright green splashes of moss on the rocks introduce some colour into an otherwise subtle symphony of pale khaki, grey and white. Everywhere an understory of banksia shrubs in flower forecasts no shortage of honeyeaters.



We pull into the parking area. There’s a half dozen other cars, but not much in the way of people. A large brown bird flies from the bushes – just enough of a glimpse for me to see it’s interesting and not some everyday bird. Tease! Around the carpark are several varieties of banksia again in full flower. The banksia pictured looking all the world like someone had sketched in the colour using a yellow highlighter pen. Extraordinary. Though they are lying low out of the wind, there is abundant bird call all around. The New Holland honeyeaters clearly among them. I wait patiently for hubby hoping to catch a glimpse of someone but the winds are very strong and the birds aren’t risking it.
200 metres of level walking and we come to the lookout over Kanangra Walls. As we step down to the viewing area a wedgie suddenly soars straight up in front of us from below the cliff edge, only metres from the lookout. FANTASTIC! The view is stupendous. Wilderness as far as the eye can see. The dramatic cliff face of the walls is a golden brown in the bright sunlight. Rugged ridge tops and dramatic valleys all around. I won’t post a photograph. Discovering Kanagra Walls for yourself is more fun surely. But I’ll post the lookout map for you to give you an idea… oh and a teaser...from the entrance to the lookout..

I’m not overly fond of heights and I have a job convincing hubby to keep away from the edge… reminiscent of climbing the lookout at Stanley chasm, though that was worse..










Having taken our fill of the lookout we venture to the Waterfall track. This is rated as hard and suggested time is one hour depending on how long you spend at the bottom. Who doesn’t like a waterfall? So we set off. The track is simply a long steep staircase.



















Along the way I stop to admire a beautiful hairpin banksia in flower. This is, without question my favourite banskia and one of my favourite flowers. Golden cones with true black styles that are the source of the common name. It looks exactly like a cushion stuffed with shiny black hair pins. Very dramatic. This photo doesn't really do it justice but it will give you an idea.



















At the base of the cliff there is a viewing platform over a pool and stream of crystal clear water edged with ferns. To the left from the viewing platform is a beautiful waterfall, not hugely tall, but it is very pretty. The view is partly obstructed by vegetation, but lovely anyway. We only spend a short while down here before we set off on the return. We realise how comparatively calm it is down at the waterfall as the roar of the wind meets us as we climb back up. The whole thing took us 25 mins but we felt the cardio workout on the way back especially.
Heading back towards the carpark I stop to photograph some gum tree bark that is sparkling in the light where it has bled it's rich red sap.

























It’s still only 12:35 pm so since some exercise was one of our aims, hubby encourages a go at the Plateau walk. This takes you down a long flight of stairs. As we go I’m thinking I’m going to regret neglecting my lower body after all this. Oh well…



In the wind this walk was a good choice. Down below the plateau on this side we are protected from the wind and in a short time it is clear the birds like this calmer area. Plenty of eastern spinebills are visiting the flowering banksias along the stairs. Not particularly bothered by us passing. Beyond the stairs we reach a comparatively level pathway bordered by an area of shrubs nestled against the cliff face. It is alive with birds. Many spinebills and also I believe buff rumped thornbills, suggesting my guess along the road as we were coming in was correct. Looking up at the birds above me the clouds racing over the edge of the rock face seem so close I feel like I could reach out and touch them. A thornbill lands in the shrub right near me and sings his little heart out with a lovely melodic warbling call. This is a new species for me. I dawdle for a few minutes and hubby gets along ahead. I catch up and pretty soon we arrive at Dance Floor cave. We explore the cave and read the interpretive signs explaining the use of the cave by settlers and stockmen who have constructed a small drinking basin at a seepage point in the roof. The dance floor is long gone now. The water dripping from the roof to the bowl is no doubt pristine, but who knows what some passing ratbag may have done to the water actually in the bowl so we don't sample it.. Coming back to the path water dripping over the edge of the cave sparkles in the light from shafts of sunlight. Lovely.
At this point as we rejoin the path we reach another flight of stairs that will take us up onto the plateau. An inward groan and we head on up with determination. This is the plateau above the Kanangra walls and it feels like standing on top of the world, despite not being the highest point in sight. The vegetation on top of the plateau is tough, dense heath which seems to grow on a grey sandy soil on top of the rock. It is quite moist at this time of year and round about are luxurious patches of rich deep green moss that brings to mind Miss Ellen's velvet drapes.

The scenery is mesmorising and if not for the wind I could easily hear pan pipes playing and float along like Miranda from picnic at hanging rock - well, perhaps not so gracefully. Perhaps a cross between Miranda and the dancing hippos from fantasia! The path for the most part is simply the exposed areas of rock between the vegetation. To this point the walk has taken us 35 minutes and we could turn back from here, but I see a hiker coming toward us from the end of the plateau demonstrating that there is path continuing in that direction. I pity the hiker with that huge pack in this wind. We quizz him as we meet and decide to continue on for a while. He's come from deep in the wilderness and climbed up to the plateau. He's very nice and helpful but I suspect he could cheerfully slap me for interrupting his rhythm with that pack. We spend about half an hour wandering about on the plateau our spirits soaring with the winds over the wildnerness to north, south and all around.







Finally we reach a point where we can look back along a section of the walls and we decide it's time to turn back. Returning back, the path is easy to lose. It is marked only by discrete patches of red tape attached to small bushes every so often but quite a distance apart. We have a couple of sessions of nosing about looking for the path. None the less we get back in good time. At the return up the flight of steps heading to the carpack track I channel my recently deceased grandmother and start to count the steps.. I'm part way up before I start but I get to 200 before the top. They rate this walk as moderate and suggest an hour depending on how long you spend on the plateau. By my estimation it is a bit more than moderate. Certainly it would have as many stairs in total as the waterfall walk, or close to it. You just get a break in between. The plateau walk has taken us about 1 1/2 hrs.

We feel a sense of achievement and spiritual peace as we return along the path to the car. Pleased to see the tree opposite our car space hasn't fallen onto our car in the wind. We break open the picnic set and have a glass of water each and set off.

I am tempted by the concept of a circle down around the mountains to the southern highlands for dinner in Berrima, but on consideration I note that it takes in the Oberon - Goulburn road and then from Wombeyan caves up to Mittagong. I've done both these drives before and vowed not to do either of them again so we decide to return back past Jenolan Caves. By the time we are parked and down at the cafe at Jenolan Caves it's about 3:10 pm. We have a look at Chisolms restaurant menu in the lobby of caves house. They are restoring Caves House and it has a lovely ambience. We head to check out the cafe and while hubby buys himself some lunch, I go across to see when the next cave tour is leaving. Some consultation and a shared chicken schitzel lavash (very nice) we head back over to the ticket office. The next tour is at 3:30 and I ask how strenuous it is, wondering how long my legs are going to keep agreeing to go up and down stairs... the bloke behind the counter cheerfully advises "not very" in a reassuring tone so we buy our tickets for the Chifley cave tour and head off to meet our tour guide in the Grand Arch, carefully stowing the passes that will give us free entry to the nettle cave and a half price tour valid for 12 months. A comfort stop near the departure point is interesting. They have just built a stone wall open to the roof of the arch with narrow little cubicles in it... different....
By this time we have noted in the guide book we've picked up that Chifley cave involves several hundred stairs hmmm. We set off with no incident. The cave starts out fairly modest and our guide points out a few nice features, however as the tour progresses we come to chambers jam packed with spectacular formations. Magical and very pretty. The only down side to the tour was a foreign gentleman.. well actually he wasn't a gentleman he was a dickhead* and proud of it - claimed he was a kid in a man's body. Despite repeated requests from our young guide he continued to go ahead and play with the lights. Even when people were coming down the stairs. Dickhead.
We emerge into the light and head up the hill to the car park. I've made it through the cave no worries, but the somehow the series of stairs leading up to the car park are getting pretty uncomfortable and I'm glad to sit down when we get to the car. Off we go to Katoomba / Leura for dinner as the sun sets, though it makes no particular display today. Along the way hubby reminds me of the depth of his love, pointing out that it is the state of origin decider tonight and he hasn't even taped it, but he is happy to make this heavy sacrifice in honour of our special day.. ohhhhh... I point out that it isn't that much of a sacrifice as the Blues are going to get done anyhow! LOL Ah hubby is so loyal and optomistic as a footie fan.
We don't have reservations so we drive around Katoomba in a fairly aimless fashion before heading purposefully to Leura on the off chance of a one of a couple of preferred locations there. Le Gobelet is closed. Good I'd rather go to Solitary anyhow and we are pleased to find it's open now (about 6:30). We are the first patrons to arrive and are seated by the heater. Fireside tables are booked naturally. We have a lovely leisurely dinner. Taking a happy anniversary call from daughter during the mains. Every dish was delicious including the complementary hors doevre. The service just the right level of attentive. A really lovely evening to cap off a perfect day. We're all done by 8:30pm and arrive home at 9:45 keeping abreast of developments in the game as we travel. We are home just in time to see the Blues get done in the last short period of the game. .. well at least hubby didn't have to miss the whole thing....


* my apologies if this term offends... it's an old Australian term for just this sort of person.... :o)

A visit to Zig Zag

Weeks of lying low but today it’s glorious sunshine and we (hubby, daughter 2 and I) are off to take nephew1 (6 yrs) and nephew 2 (3yrs) for an outing to Zig Zag Railway near Lithgow NSW. We make a departure from Stanmore at about 9 am. The driving is easy, just a hop and a skip and we are on the Great Western Highway which runs from Broadway in Sydney right across the Great Dividing Range, through a lovely series of mountain villages.
When the time comes we take the option to divert to the M4 motorway which blends seamlessly back into the Great Western Hwy at the foot of the mountains. We have a fast and smooth trip until near the Leura turnoff the traffic suddenly grinds to a halt, perfectly positioned to allow us to give the traffic snarl a miss and divert through Leura. A little scenic driving admiring the views and we rejoin the highway at Katoomba where there is no sign of a problem.
We pass Blackheath, and the Hydro Majestic. At Mount Victoria we follow the signs to Zig Zag across the Darling Causeway very pleased to note that we should arrive at the right time for the first trip of the day at 11am.
$82.50 later and we board the train and find ourselves a cluster of seats together. It’s quite busy and the carriage we are in is full of the hubbub of excited patrons. An interesting mix of elderly people and young families.
The Zig Zag Railway was an engineering marvel in it’s day. Innovation was required to enable trains to travel from the ports of the coast to the great inland agricultural area so productive of wool and wheat. Land of the golden fleece. The railway is cut like the mark of zorro into the side of the mountain. Top road – which ends with “top points” then middle road leads to “bottom points” and the end of Zig Zag’s heritage service. Bottom road is below and is still used by the main line services today which run into an apparently impenetrably dark tunnel through the mountain.
Today the train is hauled by a sweet blue locomotive very reminiscent of Thomas the tank engine. Indeed this engine with face attached is used for special “Thomas and friends” days during school holidays. After travelling through a tunnel and over the first of the viaducts we alight at top points to watch “Thomas” uncouple. Just the ticket! On first sight of the locomotive nephew 1 – a serious Thomas aficionado in his younger years – announces that the real Thomas only has one space for coal rather than two and he also has a “tender” – but his eyes are wide at his first real life steam engine none-the-less. He and I – with many others - go up to the viewing platform above the tracks to watch “Thomas” steam along the tracks, then we move down to the new head of the train to watch him couple to the train all with much chuffing and steam. The whistle blows all aboard and we climb in for the next stage of the journey to bottom points.
We’re in a new carriage this time and when we go through the second tunnel this carriage is excitingly dark. Across a couple more stone viaducts with better views of the all three and down to some buildings in the valley below which I think I heard them say are a school and brewery. Finally we arrive at Bottom points where there is a more substantial station with a small number of toilet facilities. Here “Thomas” changes ends again and also refills with water and some sort of additive, all of which is very interesting and draws the kids and their parents, and a few others all of whom watch intently.
All aboard and we’re off on the return journey to top points for a repeat of the earlier spectacle. We give others a go on the viewing platform. Nephew 1 runs and hides behind the shrubs in the park by the platform. We watch the recoupling and climb back on board for this longest section of the trip. We’re pleased to be in this carriage which is right behind the engine for maximum appreciation of the chuffing as the engine works hard to haul us back up the mountain.
Nephew 2 without leaving his seat silently extracts a lolly snake from the couple adjacent who have an attack of the munchies. I laughingly tell them that they have just given him his favourite lolly in the whole world! They laugh and say yes, his eyes said it all! In the end this nice young couple give each of the boys two “nakes”. Nephew 2 wastes no time in shocking his cousin and cruelly eating his tail first…”oh poor snake!”
We have once again skilfully left our camera in the car, so a quick dash and we make up the deficit before the train loads up with the next round of passengers. Some browsing and souvenir buying in the shop - replica locos, a steam train pencil sharpener and finally a souvenir coin.
By now it’s well and truly lunch time. It’s nephew 1’s birthday treat and he announces he’d like macca’s for lunch. Blue Mountains local council won’t allow fast food chains in (very sensible) so we travel down to the macca’s just out of Lithgow on the highway. It is insanely busy. We find a parking space but baulk when we open the door and clap eyes on the queue. Nephew 1 graciously consents to go to Uncle’s favourite – KFC out of sight along the highway towards the mountains. The food is good – as usual from this KFC. Well above average.
We were going to take a stop at Blackheath and go for a walk, but nephew announces he’s feeling pretty tired now and would like to go home. Both the boys are fast asleep in no time and a hassle free trip has us back at Stanmore at 4:30pm, with two little boys full of excitement and stories for Daddy when he gets home. Hubby, daughter and I have all enjoyed the trip very much also and all agree the Zig Zag Railway is well worth a visit. Surely quite unique among heritage rail experiences with so much shunting to watch during the 1 ½ of the journey.
http://www.zigzagrailway.com.au/

Pulpit Rock

It’s been building for a while. It’s time we went for a walk. It is the mother’s day weekend, so on the whole we’re a bit restricted. Son2 is coming over and it’s a good opportunity to get some learner hours up and walk as well. Kill two birds with the one stone. We are inordinately late getting away, what with Son2’s late rise, late brekkie then lunch…. people who work out have to eat and sleep a lot… it’s always a challenge getting going with Son2 in the mix. It’s lovely to see him though, he works tomorrow so today it is.
Past midday and speed restricted we take the scenic route up the Northern Road from Macarthur. This is a beautifully scenic drive through rolling dales of rich well covered golden pastures, spotted with farm dams reflecting deep blue from the sky. The ridges of the Blue Mountains across the river form a beautiful border to a cloud spotted sky. Glorious.
We make the turn into the M4 for the run up the mountains to Blackheath. Our chosen destination for today. Conversation dominates as we wind up through the long succession of mountain villages. Lower mountain villages appear to be feeling the spill over from the surge in tourism in recent times.
Son2 is hungry again by the time we reach Blackheath. We miss a turn, but that’s a blessing as we meander down a local backstreet arched with the red and gold mix of spectacular autumn foliage. We take a little while moseying along reading through the menus of different outlets. We cross to check out Ashcrofts (one hat) it’s not open for lunch at the time and in any case the menu doesn’t grab me.. and we’re here to walk not eat…. Well that’s the theory anyway LOL. Finally after too much mutual deferral around the group we settle on a table at the Victory Café at the antique centre. Service was adequate but nothing more. Food was fine, but nothing to write home about. The most impressive aspect I think is that they have a number of dishes on their menu suitable for vegetarian and gluten free.
.finally … I manage to drag son2 and party out of Blackheath and we proceed down to Govett’s Leap with walking in mind. Daughter opts to stay in the car to do some study. Hubby, Son2 and I head off down the hill. It’s 3:30pm so not much time up our sleeves. The view from Govett’s Leap is wonderful. Expansive and interesting cliff faces weaving towering balustrades to the wilderness of the Grose (?) Valley. It is decidedly downhill to the start of the walk to Pulpit Rock, which stands like a single sister on the left hand side of the view. Recent chats on the internet having sparked my interest in this walk I haven’t tried before.
The first section of the walk is labelled for one of the waterfalls. It is old school Blue Mountain walking. The track is graded medium, but it’s pretty challenging. Few level sections, many steep gradients and rough bush stairs hewn into the rocks. Brief level sections are mostly quite wet and boggy. Branches have been thrown in the mud to give something of a firm footing to pick your way across the mud, but they don’t look too inviting. The flattened vegetation indicates that most people pick their way around rather than through via the branches. The going is slow. In places the stairs are greased with dark wet mud and sand swept over the rocks by the seepage that exudes from the rock edges along the path. A sort of hanging swamp effect. The edges of the path are dotted with the rich ruby rosettes of small sundews, glistening with sticky droplets on each hairy leaf.
No railings or even tree trunks close by for easy hand hold. We all take our time getting along. None the less, never ones to miss an opportunity my jeans decide to self medicate a mineral deficiency and I slip in the mud, causing a mix of amusement and concern to those behind me. No harm done. At least the mud is sufficiently wet and sandy that my hands aren’t too filthy. And at least I didn’t land on my bum which would be a pain on the way home. I think I removed the old sheet we use for such things out of the boot not long ago….hmm
We pull up at the lookouts, which are quite exposed and apparently accessible to helicopter drops. Large bags of supplies are bundled at the lookout, and other clear sites along the way ready for the commencement of track remediation. It is possible to volunteer to help with restoring the tracks in the national park. Some quite good weekend deals are available through Conservation Volunteers. Anyway we admire the view down to an adjacent waterfall and the pool below. A natural curve in the escarpment is beautifully decorated with ferns and moss and all sorts of greenery as the moisture seeps down the rock face. Hubby and Son2 toss some small pieces of bark over the edge to watch them spin and twist and be caught by the mild updrafts as they make their way slowly to the valley below.
Skimming stones is one of the great family pastimes especially for the men in the family… but mum the wet blanket puts a stop to any thoughts of tossing any substantial object over into the valley.. irrespective of the appearance of wilderness you never know who might be below and even light things can become deadly falling from heights… even if people aren’t about who knows what wildlife could be caught by surprise…
After a while we come to a substantial little creek (which no doubt feeds the waterfall) at the turn to another track that leads back up to Blackheath via something or other Glen. Signs we have passed have warned not to drink the water. Too much run off from human habitation at this spot. A moment or two to identify the crossing point - a set of stepping rocks -and we head up the equally steep incline on the other side. We persevere to the top of the next hill and the lookout there. The visibility is declining as the air cools and a thin white curtain manifests across the valley. We agree to head back.
The slippery wet stair section is less intimidating on the way back up. We stop again near the waterfall lookout and son, who has been carrying his water bottle, has a brain wave and decides to toss water over the edge. The water forms large shining droplets that waggle and shimmer and break apart and slam into each other appearing to almost vaporise before reaching the vegetation below. Awesome. A very enjoyable experiment so it gets repeated. Son2 is in awe and makes a note to come back armed with large quantities of water for tossing… no doubt he and his brother and dad could have a great time studying falling water droplets…
We manage to make our way back to the main lookout and the car without further incident. With night rapidly encroaching we make a bee line down Hat Head road to the Pulpit Rock lookout. The road eventually turns to a mix of sealed and unsealed, but nothing dramatic. Fine for a 2WD.
The parking area at Pulpit Rock is rudimentary to say the least, just one parking bay, with a couple of other areas to pull over OK. The offspring are happy to stay in the car so hubby and I wander down the 15 min track to the lookout. The track passes an old stone picnic hut and some facilities. It is pretty much a series of stairs downhill to a series of levels with lookouts across the valley. The rock is well named. It stands out into the valley ..well… like a pulpit actually. One of the upper levels you can see to the cliffs across to the north. The sun is setting and these cliffs are in position to catch it. They are glowing like they are lit by fire from within. A rich glowing pink/red. For all the world like the glowing embers of a fire, where the interior of the log shines red with an outer tracery of black filigree. Fantastic!! I draw the line at going right down on to the pulpit, but hubby is drawn down there. I’m intent on watching the fire show on the upper lookout.
As the light really starts to fail we start the climb back up to the car. Calls of creaking doors. I stop to listen to the gang gang cockatoos and think of the father and baby bird we spied in Canberra. I lag behind and pass through a small hot spot of birds. The light is very bad for birding and don’t the birds know it! There is clearly a range of species with a variety of calls from the small bush birds that are my favourites. A flutter of wings and a flash across the path in front of me, I follow the bird with my eyes and am delighted to see an Eastern Spinebill land in the shrubbery. It hovers hummingbird-like to feed momentarily before landing again nearby. Delightful.
Greeted by the kids, we rub it in that they’ve just missed the best Blue Mountains scenery we’ve ever seen. Magnificent. Well be back sometime for sure. Son2 is a bit over the driving and is feeling a bit sleepy, so hubby takes the wheel for a quick trip in on the M4 to drop Son2 home to Coogee. As we return up Hat Head road a couple of yellow tailed black cockatoos call and rise from the roadside vegetation. They fly in the direction we are travelling giving us a great look… a lovely farewell to the National Park.

Anzac Day - Campbelltown and Canberra

4:45 and half awake, as on all Anzac Days I slowly overcome the lethargy, my conscience just won't let me stay in bed on this day. I rouse hubby and get up and prank daughter on her mobile. A quick sip or two of coffee for hubby and rapid dress and we’re in the car earlier than usual. On our way to our local dawn service armed with plentiful hankies. We’ve been attending the Campbelltown dawn service in Mawson Park for many years now and have seen it grow from barely 20 or 30 mostly older people to the hordes who congregate today, emerging out of the comparative dark into the flood lit park. I had thought perhaps the weather might put people off, but no. There’s even more people here than last year. We are lucky and the rain holds off. The local RSL lays out a large area of seating for the older folk and all around behind crowds and crowds of families, people of all ages have gathered to reflect and show their respect.

A brief welcome and a catafalque party move into position and stand in honour around the memorial. We listen to a few well chosen words which remind the crowd that we are here not to celebrate and glorify war, but to reflect on the sacrifice and tragedy of war and to remember the fallen. The point is made that though war is caused, some say, by the greed and brutality of men, that sometimes such men have to be stopped.. The ode is read and the crowd repeats the promise “We will remember them”. When the direction comes, the crowd rises and faces west for the playing of the last post. All stand in silence for a minute as the local magpies sing their dawn chorus. A patriotic anthem for Australia if ever there was one. A danger period for tears as you think about the suffering that is inevitable in war and the courage and sacrifice of those who fought. The announcement comes to face the east and the crowd duly turns and stands silent for the playing of the rouse and we all repeat after the announcement. “Lest we forget”. Somewhere along the line a lone piper plays the bagpipes I’m sure I should know the name of this very moving tune. It is played every year. Anzac Day just isn't complete without bagpipes.

We dry our eyes and start to move off back to our car and amazingly spy a friend of daughter and his mum. Surprising as they live quite a long way from here and I would have expected them to attend a service closer to where they live. They have come with the friend’s uncle who is a Vietnam veteran but who they have somehow lost in the crowd. After a few minutes chat we say our goodbyes and head off.

Back home for a bite of brekkie and a cuppa and we deliberate how to spend the rest of the day. Last year we all headed in to the march in Sydney. Generally if we don’t go in we watch the broadcast on the television, which has the benefit of commentary. But there’s nothing quite like standing in all weathers in George St as the many bands and veterans march past. Posties on scooters wizzing back and forth handing out flags. Our favourite position is opposite the war widows. I like to sea the veterans salute the widows as they pass.

One year at the Sydney march I recall a very memorable moment as the crew from a visiting United States Navy ship rounded the corner into George St from Martin Place, looking very smart in their uniforms. The crowd greeted them with a rousing cheer and a shout of “good on ya yanks” at which they all to a man stood visibly taller. It was quite remarkable and nice to feel that they got something positive from their participation. Nice that they took the time to show their respects to our national day of remembrance, and lord knows Australia owes the servicemen of the United States a lot for their efforts in the Second World War.

This year we make a last minute decision to head down to Canberra for the National Anzac Day Ceremony at the National War Memorial. Just hubby and myself. Daughter is also going to Canberra but with her boyfriend. We set off at about 6:40 am. An appropriate day for listening to the oral history CD we purchased on Remembrance Day as we travel the Remembrance Driveway.

We listen to a military historian telling us about Partridge VC as we pass the rest stop dedicated to his memory. The oral history is a nice compliment to the rest stops themselves which have a board with the citation on it. The oral history tells you a bit more- where they were born; about their lives before the war – and after the war if they made it home. The next rest stop isn’t until after Berrima.

Travelling down the highway some early wattle is in bloom in the median strip. The Cootamundra wattle which is planted in abundance in this early section of the drive is budding up creating a yellow hazy effect with the promise of a wonderful show in a couple of months. As we’ve got a way to go until another rest stop, we swap the CD for some classic John Williamson – only possible when the offspring aren’t in the car. Elder daughter can’t abide listening to him anymore after having a continuous John Williamson loop playing at her work for years. A rather unfortunate side affect of working in the tourism industry. Anyway, naturally we start our listening with “Cootamundra Wattle”. Such a lovely Australian song…

Finally we resume our listening as we hear of John Mackey VC the only pioneer to be awarded the VC in the second world war, and Bruce Kingsbury VC. Who could ever forget Bruce Kingsbury’s actions saving the day at the battle of Isurava. Kingsbury’s story is of course well known to us, as is the story of Jack Edmonson VC and his amazing efforts at Tobruk. The offspring all attended Hurlstone Agricultural High School – Jack Edmondson was an old boy and is commemorated in the schools hall of valour along with other old boy veterans. The school hall is also named after him, so he feels like a member of the family. As an old school principle always said… the Hurlstone family. We enjoy also being introduced to some new stories – Hughie Edwards awarded for action commanding 105 squadron RAF having transferred from the RAAF, William Kibby of Tobruk and El Alamein …. 13 stories of extraordinary valour. We have no time or inclination to stop at every rest area of course, but today we stop at Derrick VC rest area. This is a very lovely rest area with plantings of deciduous trees, claret ash, and oaks all beautiful in their autumn colours. There are also substantial picnic huts and of course toilet facilities. The picnic area also serves an historic walk to some convict era relics. The oral history CD also points out such things about the area around each rest stop which is helpful.

We make good time and arrive in Canberra about ten minutes before 9 Oclock. The service starts at 10:15. I am prepared with directions from the war memorial website about parking and shuttle bus, but we try our luck in the little street that runs parallel to Anzac Parade (which is closed today of course). We get a bonza little spot just near the Tobruk memorial. Sandwiched between a couple of Queensland plated vehicles. The parking spots down this street are filling very fast with cars pulling in one behind the other. What a great spot, this way we can wander up Anzac Parade on one side and come back on the other, visiting each of the memorials along the way – which I’ve been meaning to do for absolutely ages – what better day to do it! The Tobruk memorial is an inspired design and incorporates the memorial originally raised in Tobruk by the Australian soldiers. The perimeter of this memorial is inspired by the defence works of Tobruk. Brilliant.

We wander up past the RAAF (Royal Australian Air Force) and RAN (Royal Australian Navy) memorials as well as a memorial to nurses which is surrounded by fencing and appears to be under construction. All the memorials are modern in design and very impressive. We make our way up to a tent being operated by the Salvation Army where they provide hot drinks and a sausage sizzle. Smells great. I’ve had my brekkie, but hubby has not so he is delighted to indulge. It is free. You just give a donation…. Which cost us extra of course.. I mean who that could afford to be generous would skimp on a donation to the Salvo’s on Anzac Day?

We pay our respects at the Attaturk memorial which is the final memorial as we approach the ceremonial ground. The words of Attaturk are given pride of place below a sculpture of his face. Attaturk’s generosity of spirit must surely be the bedrock of Australia’s friendship with Turkey today. How could his words not move anyone to tears?

We accept the offer of a free program from a young volunteer and head up to get ourselves a good possie for the coming ceremony. Not a lot of ground available. Several large grandstands have been erected and are reserved for veterans marching. The ground is quite damp and we lay out our picnic rug, just enough to sit on so we don’t consume too much space.

Guests of honour at today’s ceremony are, as is fitting, representatives of New Zealand and Turkey. I think of the Battle of Kapyong: an amazing feat of arms by Australian troops serving in the United Nationals effort in Korea. The Aussies called urgently to battle had to postpone their celebration of Anzac Day. They had been planning to celebrate the day together with the New Zealanders and the Turks. Instead they did the day proud following in the footsteps of their forebears serving their country. Today nothing stands in our way. We have the privilege of celebrating this sacred day in peace.

A large contingent of the Australian Federation Guard march into position. The New Zealand High Commissioner arrives followed by the Prime Minister of Australia.

The catafalque party move into position. 4 plus a commander. I am really pleased to see it is one representative from the RAAF, one from the RAN, one from the RAA and one from the NZ Army. Incredibly appropriate.

There is no sign of the Governor General and it is explained that he is overseas unveiling an important memorial and that in his absence the Prime Minister has kindly agreed to take the salute of the Anzac Day Parade. We find out later that the GG is in Afghanistan. The Federation Guard moves out of the ceremonial ground. Units have formed up down somewhere along Anzac Parade, people lining the parade also, they march up and into the memorial ground past the Prime Minister. An interesting and informative commentary is broadcast causing a bit of a dilemma to us as spectators. If we applaud and cheer as we would at the Sydney parade, we can’t hear the commentary. In the end a sort of compromise is reached with mild applause and periods in between to listen to the broadcast. The veterans are led this year by a number of units celebrating important anniversaries. Once past the PM the vets proceed out of the ceremonial ground and then back in to file up into the grandstands and take their seats.

The Australian Federation Guard move back into position in the ceremonial ground.

The Prime Minister delivers the commemorative address. I’m not a huge fan of the PMs speaking style, but today his words hit just the right note. No self aggrandisement, no inappropriate nationalism, and very inclusive of New Zealand and Turkey. Spot on.

The service moves on with a hymn I do not know, but it has very moving words printed in our program. We have laying of wreaths. Australian PM and NZ High Commissioner together – as it should be. I'm still feeling scarred by John Howards sickeningly nationalistic speech at Gallipoli for the 90th Anniversary of the landing. He didn't mention New Zealand once in his speach. Not once. I felt like crawling under a rock in shame of him. Especially when Helen Clarke (Prime Minister of NZ) was so generous and inclusive of Australia in her far more appropriate speech. ... anyway General Peter Cosgrove, Chair of the Council of the Australian War Memorial reads the requiem and we follow up with the hymn abide with me.

Finally the National President of the RSL reads the ode and we promise again “we will remember them”. The last post, minutes silence and rouse. “Lest we forget”. The national anthem and then the crowd disperses. We briefly consider heading up to the memorial, but figure it’ll be bedlam in there today, so we head back down Anzac Parade on the western side. We stop to pay respects at the Army memorial. Quite good, but the figures look a little wooden. I admire the trees that line Anzac Parade. All native trees they look brilliant. I love that about Canberra, there is plenty of Autumn colour, but the great parades use native trees. They look great and create a really Australian feel. I stop to photograph some very nice bark….and get a few reasonable pictures…though it’s a challenge to avoid getting the road, passers by or cars in the shots.

We come to the Korean War Memorial. Very striking. A lovely memorial. There is a little room where they tell the story of the Korean War. I don’t stay to read. I read a very interesting book about the Korean War that I picked up in Borders in Chicago. The battles of the Korean war should be better known by Australians… we all know Kakoda, or Passchendaele, and Long Tan and many others. How many understand what the Australians went through and achieved at Kapyong or Maryang San fighting to uphold the ideals of the United Nations?

Outside the Korean war memorial I am drawn by the sound of persistent creaky door noises coming from the trees overhead.. goodness, is that a Gang Gang? I look up and quickly spot a male gang gang cockatoo with his jaunty red head and curly feather crest. He is stuck with baby sitting a persistent youngster who continuously begs for food. After a while dad gives in and baby gets a bit of a feed. How delightful! I haven’t seen that before!

Next we come to the Vietnam memorial. Outstanding. Dedicated “For all those who served, suffered and died – Vietnam 1962 – 1973” There are snippets of comments inscribed on the interior wall and images etched in black stone on another wall. Outside there are memorials to individuals whose remains were not recovered.

Final memorial along the parade is the Light Horse memorial. This is a replica of the memorial erected in Port Said and irreparably damaged during the Suez crisis. It is the second of two, the other located in Albany WA.

Back to our car. It is still early afternoon. We decide to run across to the National Gallery and see "Turner to Monet – the triumph of landscape". As it is well and truly lunch time our first item on the agenda is some tucker. We have visions of eating at the nice restaurant out the back, but find it is closed during the construction works extending the gallery. The café doesn’t look that inspiring, and with all the emotion of the morning neither of us are feeling particularly hungry so we decide to skip the long queue and give lunch a miss for now. We head back upstairs and fork over our $20 per person entry and head on in. I’ve been looking forward to this exhibition, it’s a drag my eyes are a bit tired though. There is a guided tour about to leave, there are stacks of people at the gallery today and in the exhibition. The tour guide is surrounded by a large crowd and voice projection is not her strong point. We can’t hear a thing so opt to wander around on our own. Some interesting paintings. I find I can live without Turner or Constable… some of the ones I like best I find are from Australian public collections – do we have a national taste in landscapes or something LOL. I am pleased to find a couple by Van Gough that I like, one I would even hang on my own wall. On the whole I’m not a huge fan, but then that’s why I love coming to these exhibitions. Reproduced images of art work NEVER do the originals justice. NEVER. They just cannot capture the light or the colours as they are in the flesh. I enjoy the contrast between a Tom Roberts painting of .. Bourke St Melbourne I think it was, hung next to one of Paris … by Pissaro I believe. Both excellent, the Pissaro hubby’s favourite of the day. I felt that in their own way they were on a par for me. Tom Roberts captures the subject so well. There was an outstanding landscape of yachts on the solent.. artist escapes me. They chose this as one of the works to have made into mounted prints for sale – the prints are nice enough I guess, but only as a reminder of the excellence of the original. A pale imitation. One of the works reminded my very much of "Menin Gate at Midnight" – with quite ghostly images and that rich dark blue of night.

We head on back to our car, which is parked across the road. Nice bark on the trees in the car park, kind of like leopard seal skin, frustrating the background is totally inappropriate but I give it a shot and we head for home stopping for petrol and some snacks to the journey as a back up. Just as well as it turns out Lynwood Café is closed today. The local pub is doing great business judging by the cars outside. They have 2 up on today of course. An idea for next Anzac Day is planted. We must go somewhere for a game of two up. Maybe the pub at Collector might be the go. We skip the oral history on the return trip. Save that for next time. We just don’t have the emotional energy for any more war remembrance today.