Silver City Sojourn - Day 5 - Anzac Service and Lake Eyre Scenic Flight

Day 5 Monday 25^th April – Anzac Day

Up at 5 am and bustling around preparing to leave for the Dawn Service.  The motel has prepared details of the day’s program of remembrances for guests, which we appreciate very much.  I went down Sulphide st to drop mum as close as possible to the memorial for the service and find a beaut parking spot  very close.  Luckily mum had her disabled parking sticker on the car. The kerb is quite high and Mum couldn’t manage it on her own, but a nice lady gave her a hand. As we wait for the service to begin the memorials look splendid all lit up in the dark.  The WW1 Memorial is very impressive with a digger posed in the midst of throwing a grenade. It is a wonderful statue and must have cost a lot of money. Definitely one of the most impressive Anzac memorials I have seen. 

Coincidentally when we get home I discover in my reading that this memorial in Broken Hill was by sculpted by Charles Web Gilbert who also did the original memorial for Mont St Quentin in France and the diorama for Mont St Quentin in the national war memorial. There is a very prominent and large memorial to the Vietnam Vets too, and a smaller very modest one to WWII, Korea, Malaya and Vietnam tucked away like a bit of an afterthought.

As the service gets underway, serving army soldiers move into position at the four corners of the memorial and the diggers who have assembled for rum rashions at the legion club earlier in the morning march into a prominent position. From the age of most it looks like there’s no shortage of Vietnam vets in Broken Hill. The MC for the service starts off with a few words and invites the local minister to speak.  The minister says that war brings out the best and worst in people, but that today he’d like to focus on the best.  He goes on to read a moving letter from a father to his son about how men don’t embrace and men don’t cry but if he were here now they would embrace and that sometimes men just cry.  Throughout the service the vets stand at attention and at ease at appropriate points.  The band plays a hymn and the minister leads a prayer.  Reveille is sounded and a piper plays.   The biggest difference to our local service was that they didn’t get the crowd to face East or turn to face the west.  The crowd participated in the lest we forget,  beating the MC to it, and then saying it again after him.  The service finished with the national anthem which was played by the band but the crowd was not invited to sing along and didn’t do so off their own bat.

We mosey around take a few photos.  There is a round garden planted with Peace roses which we thought a nice touch, and we wander down to check out a wooden boat shaped sculpture at the far end of the park.  It is a project by students of the local TAFE in some sort of aboriginal artwork course.  With that we are done and we resolve to try to make it back later to get a photo of the war memorial in full light.

Back to the motel to finalise preparations for our flight out to Lake Eyre and the Flinders Ranges.  We have some brekky and I do a little journaling while mum does this and that. Then it’s time for departure and we head out to the airport. 

It takes the full half hour to do all the meet and greet, flight briefing and so forth and then we clamber into a small Cessna.  A flock of galahs is feeding on the grass near the runway. Smooth takeoff and first we pass over Broken Hill and get a look at one of the open cuts right in the centre of town.  From the ground or even up at the memorial on the Line of Lode you would have no idea these huge open cut mines were there.  As we fly over the edge of the Barrier Ranges there is a light mist lying like a gossamer veil over the ridges. It will soon burn off.  It’s pretty while it lasts.

We leave the ranges and head out over the mundi mundi plain.  The country is green as far as the eye can see.  Mad Max3 is set for filming at Silverton and at the Broken Hill Movie Studios which have been established by the local council in the large buildings that were once housing for the broken hill power generations plants.  These became obsolete when Broken Hill was connected to the grid. At any rate the movie studio has been leased to the movie for a couple of years, but the location scenes at Silverton are a problem because it’s all too green. What they are looking for is the typical red soil desert look that Silverton is known for.

Throughout the day the landscape is scarred by the lines of watercourses.  It is counter-intuitive because normally you would expect that a watercourse or soak would be the green part and the surrounding area dry and red.  At the moment the water courses are the only red or puddles where water has dried up.

The transition to the Strzleckie Desert is marked by the appearance of ripples in the earth. All is still green, The dune tops are crusted with small shrubs which appear from a height like little trees but which Tim (our pilot) tells us are only about 1 metre tall. We descend to about 500 feet so that we can see that the ridges are sand underneath the green.  In the dips between the dunes the earth is carpeted with matting ground cover plants. When we have had a good chance to see the desert we rise again to our cruising height of 2500 feet. 

At this higher altitude the trip is smoother as we are up out of the effect of turbulent air rising off the dunes.

Scattered across the desert are ephemeral lakes.  They vary in colour according to how the light is hitting them.  Across to our left we admire some that are shining sapphire blue.   We pass Lake Blanche and can see Lake Frome and the Flinders Ranges off in the distance.  In places streaks and patterns in rich emerald green entrance the eye.  

After a time we cross the vermin proof fence which was originally built to stop the rabbits spreading. It was unsuccessful at that and so then was said to stop the dingos entering the pastoral land. At this point the dog fence follows the border between NSW and SA. 

 

We continue tracking north west to the punt across the cooper creek. The Cooper is usually a dry river bed that you drive across. Today it is a wide flowing river and we can clearly see the punt that carries the cars over the water and some cars on the banks nearby.  We are passing the very tail corner of a large expanse of Ramsar wetlands.  Beyond the punt the Cooper spreads out into a wide lake- like area before snaking off on the remaining journey to Lake Eyre which is still off in the distance.  Looking down from a great height we see a few flocks of birds.  Tiny specks that you would almost miss. We are crossing the wetlands which are the main area where the birds are found. 

Numerous small bodies of water lie here and there among the desert dunes.  Some dry salt lakes begin to appear as we near Lake Eyre North.  We are cutting corners across its meanderings but we are basically following the route of the Cooper Creek into Lake Eyre.  It seems to sort of peter out in places before reappearing a little way along.  There is an area of shallow small ponds interspersed with vegetation and this we are informed is where most birds are found.

Now we come to Lake Eyre itself.  Shimmering salt in white, wet salt areas show a dull brown and the water shines and shimmers in the sun showing beautiful pale blue, or pink, or brownish purple in various areas as we pass.  

We are remaining high at about 2500 feet as SSSF believes this gives us the best view and we can see where we are and the overall lake. 

Tim says watch out for other planes, as some come through without telling anyone else they are there, and it’s pretty busy out here.  The radio is reporting traffic as various aircraft announce to others where they are.  Apparently there has been at least one plane that has come through underneath us without announcing their presence.  I suspect that perhaps this is another reason why SSSF stay high – to keep out of the way!

It takes a while to cross Lake Eyre North which is 70% full.  It is a shallow lake and the wind shifts the water around changing the view day by day.  Spectacular swirls and shapes appear as we cross over the western lake edge and head for William Creek where we will lunch.  In this portion of the trip the earth is looking a little more like desert.  Red earth is showing through the vegetation.  Eventually William Creek and its airstrip appear. 

There is no shortage of radio traffic and planes arriving and departing from this remote outpost.  There are 8 planes on the ground as we approach and another three arriving.  We’re pretty much bang on time at 11:30ish.  It’s a walk of a few hundred metres to the William Creek Hotel.  There is a flock of little corellas over on the ground nearby.  The flies are quite enthusiastic and everyone has a backload of passengers as we head for cover.  The flies buzz around faces but are not too bad. A bit of practice at the traditional aussie wave, or better still the keep the mouth shut and blow jets of air up to discourage them when necessary. 

We don’t dilly dally and head on into the hotel and take a seat.  We peruse the menu.  Mum seeks out a power point to get on her nebulizer, then we order our lunch and sit down to chat with our companions.  They are civil but not friendly and don’t have much to say.   I ordered a grazing plate which is described as having marinated vegetables, dips, salad, and Turkish toasts with labna.  Mum goes for a steak sandwhich with the lot which I predict will be enormous but she is not deterred.  Also on the menu are toasted sandwiches, baguettes and kangaroo and emu pies.  One of our fellow travelers is tucking into a pie and it’s fairly small. As we wait for our meals we have a look around the walls.  It is traditional to leave a calling card of your visit on the walls, but we don’t participate in this tradition.  Seems like cheating arriving by plane really. The room where we are sitting is constructed from railway sleepers.  William creek is located in the midst of what is claimed to be the largest pastoral property on earth.

Our food arrives and it appears they must be out of labna which is very disappointing. I probably wouldn’t have got this except for the labna. Oh well. I enjoyed the meal in any case.  Mum’s steak sandwich arrives and it is, as was always going to be the case, enormous.  She manfully gets stuck into the task, prioritizing the steak and egg and skipping the Turkish bread in which it sits.  Looks like a room service tea for me again tonight as mum won’t want too much.

Tim and another SSSF pilot Drew join us and Tim is more a chatty sort of person (thankfully) and we have a nice chat as we have our meals.

Time comes when we must be getting on our way. But first we pause for a tripod shot at outside the pub. Love this flash new tripod, it is so so small and light and so easy - worth every penny.  A few more snaps of the area around William Creek and some of the local signage.  Mum requests another photo with the road sign and then we’re on our way to reboard the plane for the remainder of our trip. 

We depart William Creek at about 1:30. As we fly away we follow the course of a road below and I count 11 vehicles heading back from the direction of the lake, kicking miniature dust clouds behind them.  It is like Pitt St out here.  Half the world seems to be making the trek to see the spectacle of this lake in a big wet season.  Old timers say the lake hasn’t had so much water in 40 years.. not since 1974.  This is a once in a life time opportunity and clearly many people aren’t wasting it.

It’s not long until we are crossing over Lake Eyre South. Again staying at about 2500 feet.  The first bay is Bells Bay which shows a sort of murky green browny colour.   

Close by we come to Jackboot bay which is a purple pink hue, the shape of the boot needs a little imagination for me but is described as a sort of reverse Italy. Finally we cross Madison Gulf which is a pretty pale blue and pink. With the edges of snowy white and the pale powder blue sky and surrounding desert the whole scene is very beautiful, but as it turns out hard to capture in the photos, although the accentuation of the pinks by the camera is a lovely effect. 

From Madison Gulf we swing south east to Marree.  It is surprising how varied the patterns on the desert below are. Even with the green around after the flooding and rain it is extraordinary to think that people run cattle out in these arid lands.  Scars of roads and pipelines are plain to see.  We pass over Marree, which is bigger than I expected.  Apparently people come up to Marree which is accessible by mostly sealed roads but some sections of dirt, and take their Lake Eyre scenic flights from there.  Marree is not too accessible from Sydney in a short trip, hence our decision to do it from Broken Hill. As we move on from Lake Eyre South white expanses of salt and a mosaic of olive greens and browns provide yet another texture to the landscape.

At Marree we again make an adjustment to our course and head for Arkaroola and the flinders ranges which appear as scrunching of the earth.  The ranges present a change of scene to the desert area. We mostly stay very high and it is interesting to see, but would not be a substitute for a heli flight that stayed at a lower altitude. As we approach the ranges the skeleton of the ranges breaks the ridges like the spine of some great reptile.

The crumpling of the ranges intensifies before falling away to the plains in the east.

 The ranges behind us we are on our way to what turns out to be a particular highlight of the trip.  Lake Frome.  A sparkling expanse of white salt crystals gives why to a confection of pastel pinks violet and blue swirled around crescent islands crusted with dark plants. It is spectacular. 

The greatest salt lake spectacle of the day saved for last. The pictures don't do it justice. 

Finally we cross a deep channel of gorgeous purple. Lake Frome is the jewel in the crown.

As we head on back towards broken hill we pass a mosaic of smaller dry salt lakes and back across the strzleckie desert.

We are heading first for Silverton where we fly over the long straight loop ended road that was constructed for the filming of Mad Max way back in the early 80s.  With the rain, parts of the road are washed out at the moment. 

We note the Umberumberka Resevoir which is at 100 per cent capacity at the moment over there in the north.  Then Silverton itself, which is bigger than I expected too, but the grid of streets largely empty where houses that once were have been demolished. 

The country all around is very green.  No outback moonscape to be seen anywhere.   Moving right along we’re looking for the Scuptures and find them sitting crested on a ridge with their car park nearby.  They are on Mum’s side of the plane so it’s quite hard for me to get a good shot, but I do my best.  There is a walk you can do from the ridge down to the wildlife reserve (or vice versa) so if you're exploring both and can handle the walk you don't have to move your car. 

In a flash we are passing over a number of open cuts in the line of lode as we approach the airport.  On mum’s side of the plane mostly, but I manage just one shot.  The position for me is all wrong for getting the miners memorial and the restaurant. I wildly snap one photograph, but I think it is showing as a strange jumble of mullock and instead I take a nice shot of the houses in South Broken Hill.

We are back on the ground at about 4:30 having watched another plane land as we circled on approach.  We clamber out of the plane and are presented with a folder containing some information and a couple of key rings.  Amongst it is the most important thing, a plot of our route today.  Excellent.   As we turn to head inside we spot a small bird of prey with tear drop face.  Not black enough for a peregrine we assume a hobby, but don’t get much time to look before it takes off again on the hunt and the sun sinks to the horizon.

We’re both pretty warn out, mum in particular is stiff from sitting in the plane on the way back.  We are both heartily relieved to have the head sets off our head as they do get a bit heavy  and uncomfortable on the ears after a while.  No rush to try to fit more in today, we decide to have a nice early night and head back to the motel.  I obtain some internet time and we share another chicken parmy for tea. Man the parmy’s here are good!!

We watch the anzac day news and service from Lone Pine on ABC1, then switch the tele off and have an  early night. Finishing our day as it started with remembrance for those we have lost.  Lest we forget.

Silver City Sojourn - Day 4 - Charlotte's Cafe and Menindee Lakes

Day 4 Sunday 24 April.

I slept reasonably well. The bed is a bit hard.  By about 4 oclock mum is snoring and I’m rested enough that I’m not going to get back to sleep, so I decide to complete yesterday’s journal.  Journalling is a time consuming business.  I am pleased that mum seems to be getting a better night’s sleep than last night.  We’ve got our cruise on Menindee Lakes today.

First stop is to get some brekky. We couldn’t find Macca’s which was Mum's first choice (she loves their pancakes and hash browns) so we went to Charlotte’s Café in the main street which seems to be the only thing open.  They had a sign up saying they have smart choice meals and to ask about them and support this healthy eating program.  I ask the lady serving but she has no idea what I’m talking about and suggests that it’s just their normal breakfast menu.  So we make our choice.  Raisin Toast and scones.   The scones are HUGE HUGE in fact ridiculously huge, but come with a very small amount of jam and cream, less than one would usually be given for a couple of normal sized scones.  Very strange, but the scones were very good. We save one for Ron.  Mum’s raisin toast came with three slices and sides of margarine, jam and mamalade.  She also got a cappuccino which came with an everest of froth (not how its supposed to be).  She said it was pretty aweful coffee ... by Sydney standards at any rate.  It was just as well we went in early. As we ate the place filled to bursting.   We read some of the heritage signs along the main road near where we’ve parked and then go looking for petrol. 

We fill up, buy some milk and ice which we stow in the esky.  Now we’re off to Menindee lakes.

It is a pleasant drive through a range of low hills when you first get out of town, then the landscape becomes very flat.  Good ground cover everywhere and aside from the road verge not much in the way of red soil to be seen.  After a while we spot a large flock of emus just next to the road, but it was a pretty uneventful journey until we come to Stephens creek.  It would have been nice to stop there as it was the typical red soil dry riverbed with trees growing in it. Very lovely, but we head on. 

I had originally planned to sus out Kinchega NP and the historic woolshed before the cruise time, but we go in to where our directions indicate to do a reccie and make sure we know where we need to be. As we drive along the dirt road dust rises up and drifts across with the wind. It passes across rows of campers perched by the water and I cannot help but think that these folk have chosen an aweful place to set up camp. Having checked out where our directions says we meet the cruise, we park by the water near the Bourke and Wills campsite and watch the waterbirds for a while.  Terns, pacific herons – plenty of young birds. Lots of white egrets. Mum says intermediate egrets. Peewees.  Galahs, white ibis.  Most interesting was the black fronted plovers, but as well there were silver gulls and willy wagtails. Scenically we thought it was pretty ugly (sorry) and the whole area is crowded with campers. Looking over the photos I find neither of us were moved to take any pictures. 

Before we take off we stop briefly among the campers to check out the Burke and Wills campsite. Ho hum.  Best thing about the campsite is the beautiful tree there.  The area all around the lakes is crammed with Easter campers.  The environment nearby the Bourke and Wills site is smelly from rotting carp which people catch and leave to die on the banks and overall it’s a bit yuck really.  Certainly I’ve seen more tempting camping spots.  

As time approaches for the cruise we move on up to the main weir, take a toilet stop and park up near where we expect to join the cruise.  We admire the rushing torrents of water flowing over the spillway.

 No sign of the River Lady sign that is predicted. As I look at the weir I see the boat on the opposite side.  We are in the wrong position.  I check and double check the map we were sent. Yep, we are where they told us to go.  Just as we’re figuring it’s a lost cause Tri State Tours rocks up and their guide helps us out getting the attention of the river lady.  They check out if they can pick us up  and say they left voicemail for us but obviously we didn’t get it.  Later when I check, they have left the voicemail on my mobile only about half an hour before departure time. Pointless when I had told them I don’t have reception out here and obviously we have to have been en route at that time. Major stuff up.

At any rate they said they would wait for us to drive round to where they are. We make our way back into via Menindee and along the Wilcannia / Ivanhoe road without incident and we arrive at the departure point  just as they are about to leave without us afterall.  We board the boat and settle in and head off. An irritating mishap, but all over now.

 The cruise takes the course of the Darling as it was before the lake was made by installing the weir.  The banks of the original watercourse that are still intact are pretty.  Overall there are a lot of dead trees, drowned by the creation of the lake. I always find dead trees rather upsetting and depressing. The scenery as you go deeper into the lake system is fairly unchanging. It would be very easy to get lost on the lake without a guide.

There are plenty of nests of whistling kites here and there, but not many actual kites in evidence.  On the whole, we see very little bird life.  Such a big wet the birds can go anywhere they like these days, so no doubt many are on holiday.  A darter on a dead branch relaxes and dries its wings as we pass by. 

The commentary starts out well but tapers off allowing passengers to enjoy the quiet on the water and relax.  With the floods in Roma they are busy letting water out of the Menindee Lakes.  It will take a couple of months for the flood water to come down from Qld but they get a surge well in advance of that.  Water level has dropped a couple of feet in the last few days apparently, and is changing up and down all the time.  We note the lignum growing around the lake that Aboriginal women would use for weaving dilly bags.   As we cruise, complimentary tea or coffee and biccies and fruit cake are offered around.  The cruise is a pleasant change of pace and scenery to our driving through the arid lands of the last few days, but an hour on the water is enough.  

The tour complete, we alight at the picnic area and head over to the car taking our time on the drive back doing a spot of birdwatching.  We snap some photos where the road has been cut by the high water levels. Admiring silver gulls making a raucous show here, downstream from the weir.

Along this stretch we stop at some shallow pools and see Australian Shelducks and a juvenile Australasian grebe and a range of other good birds, but of course mum keeps the list so I don't recall the others!

Time is passing and I’m keen to move along, I would like to get back to Broken Hill before its too late to call the flight people for tomorrow and make sure we know what’s going on.  Most of the roads into Kinchega National Park are closed, but the road down to the woolshed is open.  Mum is underwhelmed at the idea of visiting another woolshed. She’s a bit over woolsheds and they tend to smell like sheep piss.  There’s a few spots with birds along the way in but we decide to have a better look at them on the way back.  We stopped to pay our pay and display entrance fee and head in on the dirt roads, which have patches that are quite corrugated, but nothing too drastic.  Lots of people are at the woolshed. Mum decides she’ll come in after all rather than stay in the car.  First stop the old dunny.  Quite a classy long drop affair. Well better than average.  Not currently in use, more modern facilities are available and there’s lots of signs to make sure people don’t think they can actually use this old dunny. 

On into the woolshed, past some old machinery used to power the equipment over the years. A gadget used to put the bales up on the drays for transport.  Right next to the entrance to the shed an echidna is sitting behind some wire, clearly well aware we can’t reach him.  At first I thought it might be a stuffed exhibit, but no, its just found itself a lovely sunny corner for a bit of a kip.

The woolshed itself is a very interesting design. Very different to other sheds we have visited.  There is a large under cover area where the sheep are protected and out of the weather.  Dry in case of rain, or to let them cool off before the ordeal of shearing. 

From the covered pens a long ramp runs down to the holding yards which though modernized before this area became a national park are still intact giving a great aspect for appreciation of how the shed worked.   

 The current shed is only half the size it was originally.  In the hey day it was a 64 stand shed. Wow. These days four would be more likely.  In the space of one year the number of sheep shorn dropped by 100,000 down to only about 30,000.  We read about the ecological catastrophe of overstocking and rabbits and the royal commission that was thought necessary to sort out what had caused this calamity.  The whole complex is very very interesting.  Mum announces that she is surprised, The Kinchega Woolshed was very interesting and she’s very glad she had the opportunity to visit.  There is a lot of additional information provided but that we didn't have time to read in detail. I do just a light skim read over the information provided about the history.  There is a phone and I try to call the flight people, but find it is the one phone number I haven’t printed on the itinerary. I expected to be calling from the motel.  

We pass by the shearer’s quarters and they look pretty good.  One room that we can see in has two sets of bunk beds.  These buildings date from the 1950s.  The whole complex gives a good coverage to pastoral activity across a long period.  A quick snap of the windmill, which turned out really well considering that I couldn’t really see too well what was in frame.  A snap of the killing shed and we are on our way.

Back in town the first priority is calling the scenic flight people. That out of the way I want to stop at Bell’s and try a thickshake.  It’s ten to five when we get there, close to closing.  We order small thick shakes to take away.  Flavour was good, but still very thin and milky and I cannot tell any difference to the milkshake we  had yesterday. I wonder if she actually gave us a milkshake by mistake.  I have concluded that the bells flavours would be good if you were making your own, but I can live without the shakes made on the premises.

The next check box on my list is to run out to the airport and make sure we know where we are heading. The drive is trouble free and we admire the large flying doctor base.  We think we’ll add The RFDS tour to Tuesday’s activities perhaps.

Then we wander round looking for the road up to the memorial and restaurant. The "line of load" looks pretty grotty from the gound, but’s it’s actually pretty awesome driving up on this enormous mullock heap. It feels like you're through a mine site. You go past the mine tours that have stopped operating and up to the info centre and memorial.  It’s almost sunset and there are lots of people up here. I make a bee line straight out the memorial.

It is a spectacular memorial. Very lovely in the golden light at the close of the day. Panoramic views all around 360 degrees.  I am very glad I came up here.  Definitely a broken hill must do.  The names of miners killed on the job are listed. So many back in the 19^th century, early 20^th and tapering off, but still a name here and there in recent times.  Mining is a dangerous business, though nowhere near as bad these days as in the past.

I wander into the restaurant, peruse the menu and make a reservation for Tuesday evening.  I can’t wait.

Mum’s pretty exhausted and looking it. We sit very briefly on a seat nearby the entrance before deciding to head off back to the motel.  Mum is not hungry so I just order chicken parmy from room service.  Turns out to be absolutely massive and very delicious.  Mum can’t resist and shares some.  I’m pretty tired too. Too tired to journal so end up giving it away and hitting the sack, to catch up on the record another time.

Silver City Sojourn - Day 3 - Cobar - Wilcannia - Broken Hill

Saturday 23rd April 2011

As noted above we’re awake disgustingly early. After we read the brochures we got from the heritage centre Mum seems to get a little bit of doze as I journal. 7:20 am. Time we got a shuffle on.  I close the laptop and get on with it.  We have decided we’ll breakfast at the dining room on site today.

Breakfast is the standard arrangement with a choice of continental or buffet. Mum went for scrambled eggs, bacon, mushrooms and toast with marmalade, I had a mix of just right with nutrigrain and some very nice cinnamon toast.  On checking out they charged us only for the buffet.  If it weren't for Mum's health issues I'd happily stay here again. That aroma is the culprit. It's not typical for Mum to wake in the night and need her nebuliser.

It was about 9:45 when we left Cobar.  We have hardly left town when we come to a large fruit fly exclusion zone sign with the usual threats if we proceed carrying fruit with us. We pull over into a handy little area by the side of the highway and consume our one remaining mandarin and our single lonely tomato. As we munch Mum spots a little bird then loses sight of it.  For some reason I needed to get out of the car and I spot the rustling in a nearby shrub. It is a wren. I get my binoculars and the bird conveniently comes out to where we can see it. Tail and wings are blue. A different blue to a splendid fairy wren, this is more a turquoise greeny blue.  I think it looks like its probably a splendid wren in eclipse plumage.  We consult the book. Good deducing 99. That's exactly what it is. Excellent!

Back on the highway we have a couple of hours or so until we reach Wilcannia. We have been talking to the lady at the motel about Wilcannia and she says that they often get people through saying they’ve been told not to even stop for petrol in Wilcannia.  She agrees that the town has had a huge turn around in recent times and it is no better or worse than any other town.  We are looking forward to exploring there.  A stop by the hospital is recommended.

The roadside is consistently lined with happy looking vegetation. Trees and conifers and shrubs. It would not look out of place in an alpine region.  The terrain through which we are travelling is undulating hills and occasionally we stop to capture the scenery or have a short break. After a bad night last night we are both very tired.  Inconvenient for mum but potentially deadly for me.  Very few birds along the road today. Only one emu.  Quite a contrast to all the emus we saw in spring up between Walgett and Bourke and the surrounding district. We did see two wedge tailed eagles about 85 kms out from Wilcannia. They were flying unlike the myriads of ravens who were lunching at the various roadkill victims.

Another interesting feature was a trio of dead bushes.  The first was decorated with caps.  The second was littered with bottles and the third with shoes.  Quite a sight in the middle of nowhere. I decided not to stop and photograph. 

We've not been rushing and we reach Wilcannia in just under 2 hrs.  First on the agenda is to follow the signs to the hospital. It is indeed a nice building and it has an interpretive sign in the park across the road. Among the information provided is that the hospital is constructed of locally quarried white sandstone and was designed by Edmund Blackett who also designed St Andrews Cathedral and the University of Sydney.  

The park across from the hospital is named Reconciliation Park and it has a mix of European and Aboriginal elements.  A number of panels have been set up where indigenous art works can be attached.  Several have some finished works attached and they are very very nice, but there is still many panel sites yet to be completed.

Lots of crested pigeons are around and near the hospital there was a whole tree full.  We also observe few galahs and pee wees.  We take a toilet stop at the public toilets there and were greeted by a green tree frog.  We were warned about green tree frogs in the toilets at the heritage centre in Cobar, but it still comes as a surprise.  I still can’t get my head around how wide their distribution is. Somewhere like Cobar or Wilcannia are the last places I would have expected to find a frog I associate so strongly with the tropics.

As we head back towards the main drag mum points out a tree full of red tailed black cockatoos, which is always  a special sight.  We photographed the council rooms and drove down past the park and the post office for a bit of an explore.  We seek out the local museum but find it isn't open. 

There are many lovely heritage buildings and this town could really be something special.  It appears that moves are already afoot, with things like the Reconciliation Park and a big interpretive panel by the river, and you could spend some time stretching your legs doing a historical walk reading the interpretive signs for each of the historic buildings, but there is still a way to go before Wilcannia lives up to its tourism potential. Lots of buildings look derelict and almost everything is closed today and we are quite disappointed not to be finding more to hold us here for a while.

We return to pull over at the riverside park enjoying the sound of laughing kookaburras. Mum watches a black kite. As mum gets on the nebulizer again I wander over to have a look at the river and snap a couple of photos Just adjacent to this is a sort of low beach area with large, beautiful trees.  A couple of children with their puppies are down mucking about by the river. Looks like they are yabbying.  A man on the far bank iseems similarly occupied. 

 The water is a whitish brown and is moving pretty fast, but the banks are pretty high and steep for most of the area I could see.  There is a picnic table in an enclosure by the riverbank but it has a lot of litter lying around it. 

Back by the car I read an interesting interpretive board about Lake Woytchugga and I spend the obligatory few minutes paying my respects at the war memorial nearby. Just a few steps away there is a set of swings and a slippery dip. Overall the park is neat and tidy.

 We head in to the BP servo and fill up, admiring the numerous kelpies hanging around.  We follow the brown signs for the Heritage trail obliged to drive it as Mum's not up to the walk.  Most buildings in the town are venerable. School,  police station and courthouse all still in use and looking well cared for of course, others that appear to have been shops.  The school has a fringe of wonderful gum trees with shiny sparkling leaves and bark. 

 The Old Post Office appears empty and in need of some TLC. Perhaps a great opportunity for something tourism related in future? The buildings are beautiful, but there is clearly some wear and tear that is in need of attention. 

 As we turn a corner along the way around we exchange smiles and waves with a group of young Aboriginal kids who are sitting on a fence outside one of the homes.  We double back to another small park by the river where there seems to be a few people nosing around. There are some other signs nearby the bridge but they have vandalized. Probably not to the extent that you cannot read them at all, but to be honest I’m over it and developing a bad attitude.  There is an impressive painted fish in the park, and some people are wandering in around the nearby building. Perhaps that’s the information centre, but if it is, it is not obviously signposted  as such. What sign there is has a large graffiti penis on it.  We decide to just move on. We’re both pretty tired and I’m keen to just get to Broken Hill.  We have felt perfectly safe and comfortable in Wilcannia, it clearly has masses of potential. Historically Wilcannia was a really significant town and as a matter of heritage it would be nice to see an injection of money to restoring or at least doing what is necessary to repair and preserve the remaining buildings.   It is gratifying to see that while some things have graffiti on them, none of the historic buildings have been defaced.   

I know that Tristate tours feature a visit to Wilcannia in their itineraries and I wonder what it is they do and say about the place, well other than the obvious historical references of course.  I suspect that this might be the sort of place where some local knowledge would make a big difference, but their tours are rather expensive and I've decided I'm just not curious enough to pay 2x the hefty per person rate for their tour.   The motel in Wilcannia is handily situated close in to the main highway. It looks neat and tidy. 

As we move on to Broken Hill we are west of the Darling and the vegetation reflects this . The Darling marks a sort of boundary of sorts to the deep outback and the desert.  The clouds are looking bigger and more closely spaced.  Again there are some rolling hills and the vegetation is looking beautiful with fresh new growth.  Some water is lying here and there in ephemeral lakes. It is a pleasant drive with regularly spaced rest stops at least one of which had a nice play area for children. I am struck as we travel with the nice facilitites along the roadside for families making the long trek out to the silver city.  People travelling with kids can plan their trip checking out the facilities at the various stops on the rtalive website.

Very few birds or anminals around other than road kill of which there is no shortage.  I spotted an echidna just moving into the roadside grass and we have been warned to watch out for goats, which proves to be good advice.  At one spot there was a decent flock of swamp chooks running about.

As  we near Broken Hill we cross a very very flat expanse of grassland. I wonder if this is part of the Hay plain, does it stretch this far?  I love these extremely flat areas, and they are best with clouds around too.  Then all of a sudden we come to a large ephemeral lake with local shrubbery partially submerged.  There are water birds in large numbers but the light is bad and apart from guessing that some are small grebes we can’t tell what they are.

Finally we get to the Welcome to Broken Hill sign and layby where a number of vehicles have pulled over. It’s a pretty uninspiring sign and I don’t bother recording it.  We head into town admiring the many street trees beautiful arid country species and it gives the place a lovely ambience.

I pull over to consult my map and we navigate to Bells Milk Bar. It’s about 2 pm local time and I’m ready for some food.  Bells is as time warp as its reputation asserts.  There is even a little martian in a flying saucer hovering over the façade.  Parking is plentiful and we waste no time heading inside.  I order a caramel malted milkshake and a piece of apple pie.  Mum goes for chocolate malted.  Unadventurous, but we want to test the basics.  There are tables for sitting and each is provided with a range of games for patrons to play. My kids would love this place.  Our order sets us back just over $20.  As the waitress comes to our table to deliver the apple pie, we check that they will be putting nutmeg on our shakes as is the local tradition.  They will, but wouldn’t have if we didn’t ask for it.  The milkshakes arrive and they are not terribly frothy as they leave the ice cream In a blob rather than blend it in.  The shake is huge though.  Perusing the menu we find we could (and should) have ordered the small. The larger size is the standard offering.  I enjoy the flavor of my caramel malted. Mum’s not keen on hers though.  I decide that I will return and try the thickshakes.  I notice other people are ordering thickshakes. I wonder if those are more like the sort of milkshake I remember from my childhood – thick and frothy and luscious.

It’s still quite early so our next stop will be Jack Absolom’s gallery.  This looks just like a suburban house from the outside with a lovely garden  Other people are pulling up almost at the same time as we are. We enter into the large gallery space with a veritable carpet of lovely original landscapes adorning the high part of the walls.  These are not for sale but prints of them are.  I am pleased to find the original White Bull the texture and red dust obscuring the herd behind is great. We mosey around taking it all in and admiring the various works.  Jack himself is working. He’s in his 80s but clearly still doing pretty well.  I assume it must be his wife on the till doing the payments.  I am very pleased to meet and be served by Jack I have to say. I make my selection, a large sized print of the white bull,  the leather bound limited edition collection of Jacks’ paintings, each with a little spiel about it where it is and what it means to Jack.  He tells me that when he was ordering this leather bound edition he asked for 50, but they made him 500.  He could have refused to take them, but must have got them pretty cheap, as he tells me that they are selling for less than what we would otherwise have had to pay. The leather binding being a large part of the cost of production.  I make a selection from among the boxed sets of Jacks TV specials.  Mum requests we also get the one about the Pilbara and Jack says she can just have that.  My last selection is Jacks' cookbook, which is full of weird and wonderful recipes and amusing little anecdotes to go along with it.  I have always meant to learn how to cook in my camp oven, but even if I don’t I’ll enjoy reading the book.  We admire the beautiful opal specimens and jewellery on display in the cases in the centre of the room.  Some beautiful solid stones among them.  As we were admiring the art work I heard Jack say to someone Here I’ll get it out for you. You look like a crow peering into a beer bottle looking down like that.

Time to move along to our next priority. Pro Hart’s Gallery, which is well signposted once we get back onto the main road.  It’s an impressive edifice also and doing a roaring trade today.  It costs $4 for adults and $2 seniors to enter.  There is a gift shop area with a range of very tempting souvenirs and several rooms with various prints and original works for sale. Before heading up into the three storey gallery we spend quite a long time watching a video that they have playing about the artist.  It is very informative about Pro’s life and passions, his inspiration and faith.  Pro’s studio is as it was, protected behind glass walls and his gun for launching Christmas baubles filled with paint is also on display. After well over an hour in the gallery I make my selections a print of the Chop Bone which depicts a bone being swarmed over by ants. I love pro’s ants.  A jigsaw of one of his bush community scenes, an apron with ants and a mouse mat with a dead insect.  There is an interesting looking biography of Pro by his son, but it’s $50 or near enough and more than I want to pay.  Time to move on.

We consult our maps again and locate Desert Sand motel and check in. There’s a mysterious smell in the room when we first open the door.  Eventually I find it is concentrated at the cupboard.  I sniff the “wood” yep it’s the wood. Lord knows what it is made of but I think the smell is emitted by the actual furniture rather than any cleaner or air freshener. It seems to subside as we leave the door open, so we decide we shall make do. Hopefully it won’t affect mum’s asthma.  She’s not been good today after the smell in the room last night, and we can’t afford any further deterioriation.

Dinner we opt for Dunes the onside restaurant which seems to be part of the Southern Cross Hotel next door. The atmosphere is nice and the staff seem nice also.  We both ordered chicken. Just mains, but they are huge and nicely cooked, but nothing particularly gourmet to my taste.  I make a mental note to just order an entre if we eat here again.  The steaks are huge 350-400g and no option for a smaller size.  Its 8pm by the time we’re heading back to the room.  We both just prepare for bed  and hit the sack. I do a little blogging but I’m really too tired, so pack it in for the night. 

Silver City Sojourn - Day 2 - West Wyalong to Cobar

Day 2 – Friday 22^nd April – Good Friday.

Mum and I are both awake at 5:30 with Buckley’s of either of us going back to sleep, so we decide to just get up and get away. We can bird watch if we come across a suitable spot on the way, or we can just get to Cobar nice and early and hope there’s some things in Cobar that are open today. That will give us a head start tomorrow as well.  
I add some detail to the blog while mum hops on the nebulizer then we pack up and head off.

We made an early getaway hitting the road by about 7:15.  We stop and fill the car before heading off towards Lake Cargelligo. The road heading north is pretty and lined with native vegetation.  


We are bird watching in a modest way as we go along. There are masses of birds on the road that fly up out of our way as we pass. An early highlight is a small flock of cockatiels.  Masses of crested pigeons and apostle birds. White winged choughs, and the occasional blue bonnet parrots.  We make slow progress with the frequent stopping. The road has a reasonable amount of traffic. 

Seeing an enticing dirt road branching off, we decide to wander down it for a bit in the hope that we can mosey about undisturbed.  However we find that most of the birds are out on the sealed road and at 3 kms we turn back and continue on our way.  We assume that the birds are attracted to the main road to eat grain dropped by the grain trucks after the harvest.  All through our driving over the last day or so there have been many paddocks bare where the harvest has been taken off.
We’ve not gone far before we are pulling up to capture a lovely view with a strong bank of cloud that is moving in from the west. 

We pass through Euabalong which I think is a lovely atmospheric town with plenty of original buildings from pioneer times. The ambience is very quaint and peaceful and there are large puddles of water lying in the road.  There must have been some significant falls of rain sometime not too long ago.

We continue on enjoying the scenery and the good cover of native vegetation. A highlight when we spot two galahs at a nesting hollow. We chuck a uey to come back for a better look and at the same spot I see some grey crowned babblers in a nearby shrub.  The vista across the grassland is lovely and the road ahead is traffic free and enticing. 

It is several hours before we arrive at Lake Cargelligo.  We pass by the sign pointing to Cobar but there is no point coming all this way and not seeing the lake itself so we wander down the main street and stop at Liberty Park to have a spot of breakfast, cheese and corn relish sangas, having only had a mandarin as a snack before we left West Wyalong.  We enjoy watching some masked woodswallows flitting about the electricity wires and trees in the park.  There is a motel opposite Liberty park and it is being serviced with the windows open. Even from across the park I can smell the room freshener scent that they must use. Overpowering. Remind me not to stay at that Motel.  We mosey about in the park for a while as I photograph the lake and  the war memorial, then we’re on the road once again.

Not too far along from Lake Cargelligo we  come to a sign telling us to slow down to 40 kph. We turn a corner and come to a bridge across a small and pretty watercourse labelled Booberoi Creek.  Beyond the bridge the road is dirt. We pull over to enjoy the scene and are overtaken by a ford falcon who is soon out of sight.  The road looks good and fairly dry although there have been indications along the way this morning that some rain has fallen.  We enjoy the road as it passes through a nature reserve. The shrubs and trees and grasses are all looking  very happy with new growth.  It is clear that it has been a good year for rain.  The road becomes wet in places, although we are able to navigate it pretty well. I look back carefully and am relieved to see that our own passing does not appear to be chewing up the road. 

I am keeping carefully to the firm places and the tracks of the car ahead.  In some sections the road becomes quite slippery and I’m hoping that the road doesn’t stay dirt for the 238 kms or so to Cobar.  It turns out that there is only about 30kms of dirt road before we are turning onto the black top and to Mount Hope.

We think we see Mount Hope – just one old building and lets move on. A bit of an anticlimax.  The road however is lovely as always.  

We were surprised that there was so much vegetation bordering the road.  Very little traffic and the driving is easy we have an enjoyable run to Cobar.  The sky is now replete with clouds, which for some reason always seem so much more substantial viewed out in the country.  Maybe due to the clear air.  They give a tangible sense of the void between earth and sky.

Along the way I couldn’t resist pulling over to photograph a cluster of corrugated iron buildings which we later learn were fairly typical of living conditions in the far west in the early part of the twentieth century.

As we approach Cobar a sign appears directing us to the Peak Gold Mine and Golden Walk. I have read about this when doing my research so dutifully make the turn and follow the directions into the visitor parking area.  Right at the car park is the head structure of one of the very old mine shafts.  The path follows some old mine ruins, past the old stamper battery and up to a lookout where the current mine is operating.  There is a large metal head structure with cage travelling up and down and a long conveyor belt carrying material high to drop onto a huge cone of black.  The signs at the lookout are very faded, so who knows what they once said about the current mining operations.

Right next to the lookout is the remains of a puddling machine powered by horses, the information board illustrating what it once would have looked like and how it worked.  There is a father and his son hanging about spending plenty of time at the old relics.  I felt for the boy.  The father has a tripod and a camera with a huge lens.  Looks like the boys probably spends a good deal of boring time waiting for his dad to get the shot he wants, but he's being very patient.  They have been here since before we arrived and aren’t showing signs of being finished any time soon.   We head off into Cobar, stopping to photograph the huge Cobar sign near the entry to the centre of town.

Just around the corner is the Cobar Heritage Centre. Another of the places I have planned to see, so we park and head in. $9 entry for adults $7 for seniors. We’ve been looking around the shop while the lady behind the desk helps another couple who are on their way out to white cliffs. I prick up my ears at at their accent and wonder if they have come to the outback from overseas, but a glance down the page at the post codes recorded in the book suggests that they are residents of Sydney like myself. The post codes show that they have had a steady stream of Sydneysiders coming through. I have picked up some leaflets on local identities to read later 50 cents each.

Mum’s not feeling up to it, so I give her the car keys and she retires to the car to do a crossword.  I head through to explore the exhibits. 

Firstly I wander through the ground floor exhibits.  The first room I enter has a range of things relating to grocery stores. Old bottles and bits and bobs and discussion about retailing and how it has evolved in Cobar over the years. Moving on I admire a display about the traditional and continued passion for reusing and recycling and making things yourself that is a characteristic of the local community.  Some original tools and pieces have been donated but quite a few have been made by local people to demonstrate the arts for visitors, following the approach of copying things that were in catalogues.  The displays include tools made from fencing wire and kerosene tins.  Next stop is a bush kitchen with original photograph and a mock up of the kitchen pictured, complete with pastry well under way.  Some old kids toys.  Battered old tricycle and peddle car underneath a poster with reminiscences by older residents of their childhood in the early part of the twentieth century which is particularly fascinating. Along corridors there are photographs of historic figures and panels with information. The selection of what is shown is excellent.  Cobar really does have a fine and unique heritage to tell the visitor about. 

Outside they have an excellent collection of horse drawn farm and earth working machinery. Most seem to be in pretty good nick and have signs about what they are and how they worked.  A local has donated an original charcoal cooler, again in pretty good nick. There’s a rustic wool sorting table and some mine drilling equipment. One of the larger articles is a Sunshine harvester.  The first I can recall having seen, thought I have heard them mentioned occasionally throughout my life.  I found it very interesting to see one of those.  Closer to the indoor exhibits is a portable (steam) engine. I enter the shed and find a really old fire truck with a long history of use for various functions around the district.  Alongside this are a range of buggies, spring carts, a dray and a modern sulky build in about 1980 by a well regarded local man who has salvaged bits from around the place to assemble his modern equipage. On the wall is a memorial sign telling of the builders’ life and offering condolences to his family with the assurance that Cobar is grieving the man’s loss with them.  If memory serves he died in about 1998. An outback character.

My final exploration in the outdoor section is Car 3 from the Far West Childrens Health Scheme.  This is a real gem of an exhibit. I read with interest about the Far West scheme and Stanley and Lucy Drummond and head into the carriage which is housed in it’s own large open shed to protect it from the elements.  This is awesome and I wish daughter2 was here to see it with me.  Mum also would love it. It is a shame she is not feeling better.

Finished exploring everywhere downstairs and outside I ask the attendant whether there is more upstairs. “Oh yes.  Heaps of stuff upstairs including mining and aboriginal displays”.

I head up the impressive stair case and emerge into a maze of rooms that tell about mining history and techniques. Not too little not too much I find the level of detail is all that I would want and so maintains my interest.  
As I come to the end of the mining section I arrive at the aboriginal section. Paydirt you might say!  At the entrance there are first of all some panels that show whose story is being told and where their country is situated.  There is the large group of Ngiyampaa people and the particular stories inside are a subgroup whose traditional land is shown in relation to others and to present day localities.  The panels explain the history over the last hundred or so years.  In the earliest days there was minimal disruption from the Europeans and the mining or huge pastoral runs, with a sympathetic manager on one of the relevant stations, allowing continued access to country allowing preservation of culture and ceremony.  This man (and Irishman whose name now escapes me) ended up marrying an aboriginal woman and having a family with her continuing to act as an advocate for aboriginal people.  Then the displays tell of the bite of more intrusive and destructive government policies forcing the aboriginal community into missions a long way from country.  Policies of cultural annihilation - a dreadfully misguided and tragic period that resulted in the loss of many aboriginal people and some knowledge.  Following the worst days the community was again relocated closer to their homelands and the panels describe the trade offs that the aboriginal people made in establishing what is still a current indigenous community. 

There is some information about indigenous management of water resources, and there is a grinding stone with information about traditional diets.  There is a sign saying – please touch this, so I have a go at the grinding stone.  Across on another wall there are art works depicting things of cultural significance. They are explained and it is pointed out that these key cultural ceremonies are still conducted today.  In a glass case below some beautiful pieces by a local indigenous artist are displayed, but it is pointed out that traditionally everyone in the community expressed themselves and their stories in art as they did not have written language.  This broad artistic practice in the community is reflected in the continuing ability of people to express themselves through art.   I read with interest the stories of various community members living and some who have passed away.  All very interesting.

There is a life sized board of the last member of the community to live in the traditional way. He is photographed carrying his tools and next to him is a display about  a white collector of aboriginal artifacts who is believed to have collected things from this traditional man.  Pieces believed to have actually belonged to him are on display – on loan from the Museum of Australia in Canberra who now has possession and cares for this important collection. 
 As I turn I come to a display with some recreation of the important artwork from the Mt Grenfell Historic Site, which was handed back to the traditional owners only in the last decade and is now managed jointly by traditional owners and the National Parks and Wildlife Service.   So much information is packed into this small room.  Next  I read about a nasty character.  A short ugly red haired creature who is pretty much the enemy and has some fairly scary powers to confuse and confound.  Various local people explain in their own words on the boards who this devil is, and I read that he is still sighted by aboriginal people today – a case in point as a couple of men tell the story of how he visited their camp when they were out working.  The final exhibit in the room is a large panel with photographs of various indigenous plants and some text about what they were used for.  I smile as at the end of the panel in large bold print is a warning not to go off experimenting with bush tucker on the basis of the information provided.  Apparently NPWS and local people are still researching and working on pulling together a book about it.  If the information here is anything to go by it will be an interesting book.  This room has been fantastic.  Well done Cobar! Well done indeed.  What a contrast to the Back of Bourke Centre!! Perhaps the leaders of Bourke should pop down here to Cobar and have a look, to see how one can go about presenting an honest and inclusive display of community history.

I’ve been ages in here and I’m feeling guilty about leaving mum hanging out on her own so I go to take my leave but find there’s still half the upstairs I haven’t yet explored.  There s a room all about wool, with a big wool press and some excellent looking displays and whole other rooms that  I now can’t recall what was in them.  Gosh. This place is really great and good value for money too.  Cobar is clearly a very proud and strong community.  I’m really impressed. As I head back out I cannot see a visitors book so I wait while the lady behind the very busy counter finishes on the phone and I tell how much I have enjoyed the centre and particularly the Aboriginal room upstairs.  How wonderful and refreshing to find a centre where they tell the modern story of their indigenous community. Outstanding.  She seems pretty chuffed and assures me she will pass my compliments on.

I figure as mum is a bit worn out best to go and check in to the motel, but first we fill the car with juice at the local servo.  We are staying at Cobar Central Motor Inn. A newly built 4 star establishment. I park in the disabled car space and wander in.  A few cancellations and they now have a room with Queen and single beds, so they have moved us to that which is good.  Some milk 125ml. Thanks. I get chatting with the friendly lady behind the desk, saying I’ve just been enjoying the heritage centre and it is really really great and that I particularly enjoyed the aboriginal room.  Without my prompting she says that they have had other people through too who said that it there is nothing of that sort at the multi-million dollar Back o Bourke Centre, yet Cobar didn't receive the funding like the Back O Bourke centre got.   It is clear from our conversation today that Cobar is a very proud and strong community. Later I read through the contents of the local tourist guide and find a lot of the material presented is about community.  I’m really liking Cobar. What a great town.

Next stop we do a little back tracking and head to the Fort Bourke Lookout over the open cut and which we are informed is a good place for sunset also.  Takes us a while to find the right turn but we finally pull up as a not terribly attractive parking lot and wander up to the lookout which is a short uphill incline. Lots of wire mesh to prevent things falling or being thrown into the pit. There is quite a cold wind up here. It’s been a cool day and I’ve changed from shorts to jeans and a jumper, but I’m still cold so the thongs will have to go as well and I return to the car to put on my runners.  We’ve had our fill of the views of the pit and there’s still a while to sunset so we head over to the Newey. 

The Newey is the new water reservoir. A pretty spot with a couple of islands in the midst of a lake the water for which is pumped hundreds of kms from the Bogan river (?).  We admire the birds, an egret, some sacred ibis, some pied cormorants and pacfici black ducks and then as the sun is sinking we head back to get into position for sunset.  We decide that the side of the road heading to Fork Bourke Lookout, but not up the top, is actually the best spot with the clearest view of the sky.  We admire the sunset and head back to get some dinner.

The Cobar bowling club is across the road so we pop in there. It’s a mix of Chinese, a little Thai and Australian meals. I order a chicken parmy and when mum decides the calamari schnitzel ( a huge slab of calamari cooked schnitzel style) is not appealing she decides to go a parmy as well.  I quickly change to straight chicken schnitzel as that will keep to sandwiches tomorrow if we don’t finish everything.  The meals arrive and they are large as I expected. We share the parmy. We take the plain schnitzel away.  The parmy is delicious of course.  The veges and chips OK but nothing to write home about.

Back to the room and bed.  The room by the way is nicely appointed but we find there is an aroma from what I have long ago concluded is some sort of fresher put into air conditioners.  The motel has made a point of not spraying room deodorizers before our arrival and insist that they do not use room deodorisers.  Luckily the building is new and we think the smell not strong enough to make us have to change, but its a near run thing. If returning with Mum we would have to look for somewhere else. What a shame.

We watch some tele. A show about Scotland which is very interesting to me with the family history research I’ve been doing.  Then we watch some stuff about the Danish Royals.  Off to the land of nod briefly. Mum awakes about 12:30 with asthma and doesn’t want to disturb me so just lies awake until about 3:30 or so when I notice she’s taking her puffer and ask if she’s OK. It’s on with the nebulizer.  Well. Just as well its just the one night here. Neither of us have slept well, so Day 3 could be a bit of a trial.