Cockatoo Run, Free City Circle Bus and Watson's Bay

Today we are finally off on the Cockatoo Run! I've been wanting to do this trip for absolutely ages. We drive into Central as we have dinner reservations in town after the trip and we both hate travelling by train late at night, its not the safety angle more the tedium of sitting on station platforms for ages if you miss the train.

We make perfect time for the trip, though with hubby in charge I think we actually walked around to Platform 1 in a big circle. Still, I'm not sorry as along the way we pass through a long corridor with old rolls of honour from the various wars. Generally the Great War and WWII, an occassional Korea honour. All in beautiful timber with that patina of age. I would like to stop and take some photos but hubby's concerned we'll be late and expects we'll be back this way later...

Arriving at platform 1 is a nostalgic adventure. I haven't been here for ages. It was this platform that we would come to pick up my maternal grandparents from their nifty sleeper cabin on the train from Townsville when they came south for a visit.

We board the train right on time, taking a moment to snap the loco. Someone at 3801 has a knack for marketing, this baby's been christened the Illawarra Treetop Flyer!


We settle into our carriage. Strangely, though the carriage has plenty of spare space (which we are encouraged to occupy) our allocated seats face backwards while the forward facing ones opposite are unallocated. We quickly swap.

These old carriages date from the times that the Unanderra to Robertson line was opened ie early 1930s. There is a lovely little wooden table for us to use and the seats are well padded and comfortable. Best of all, the windows open up to allow a good breeze through the carriage. Ah, those were the days. When they were still operational who would have thought we could miss the old red rattlers and their opening windows! I guess on a hot summer day the modern air conditioned carriages do have their advantages!

We depart Central right on time as we were warned in the information we were sent. The first part of the trip is the standard metropolitan journey down through Redfern, though it is entertaining having the window open and of course we are buoyed with excitement to be on the train at last. We had been disappointed we just couldn't make it on the trip while the steam loco was on loan from Lachlan Valley, but we are pleased to find that the heritage diesel makes an appropriately chuffy sort of sound as it runs and we don't miss the steam engine at all. Still vastly different from the modern electric, or the other up to date forms of motive power.

Our journey takes us down through Hurstville and Sutherland and we find it quite interesting to see this area from this perspective as we have not been through this train line before. The rail line is lined by cute cottages and more recent apartment blocks.
In due course we start getting to the bushland regions around Jannali to the south. The Sydney Red Gums are prominent in the bush with their bark peeling and showing their russet velvet textured and dimpled trunks. Everywhere there are beautiful orange and red gum tips making a lovely show. Angophera Floribunda is here and there heavily flowering. At one point alongside the railway line a long stand of christmas bush is turning red. We generally say christmas bush is flowering when it's red, but actually the flowers are earlier and after they fall the sepals gradually turn a good strong red right at christmas time.

I am surprised to see lots of Black Wattle in flower. Mine finished months ago.


Down past the Royal National Park our volunteer carriage attendants point out the Sydney Tramway Museum at Loftus. This I am interested to see as it is on my list of things to do (eventually).

The driver blows the whistle as we approach a couple of tunnels and again as we pass a RailCorp work gang working around the tracks. We pass over a tall viaduct and are able to admire it as we travel its curve.


The bushland is beautiful. Tree ferns in the moister shady places, cabbage palms and some scattered flowering persoonia with it's dainty inforescences of yellow tubular flowers and its fine pine like foliage in a rich green. We note the equestrian centre on the opposite side as we chuff along heading for Stanwell Tops.
On our arrival at Otford we see what Daughter was talking about when she said the worst part of the Otford to Bundeena walk is the walk from the station at Otford to the start of the walk. It's very steep around the station.
Past the station our whistle blows again and a sulfur crested cockatoo sits in a tree snowy feathered with it's crest raised it looks so lovely. Sulfur cresteds are lovely birds... until they open their mouths. They must have the least attractive voice of any Australian bird. No question.

We break through to glimpses and finally broad views of a glorious blue ocean and the yellow sandy beach of Stanwell Park. It is glorious weather today and the ocean is a spectacular colour after a long period of grey skies and grey harbour and ocean views. Lawrence Hargreaves lookout is up on the hill, the hang gliders are out in force today riding the thermals which reliably frequent this part of the coast.
We get the smallest glimpse of Seacliffe Bridge as we travel slowly but surely down from the escarpment.
We have been reading along the way about the history of the line, the challenging gradients involved and the detail about the technical aspects is both interesting and refective of the fact that to volunteer to run a railway you are rather likely to have a keen interest in all things railway!

We pass down through a coal mine site and our guide makes a point of explaining to us how the coal is processed before being transported down to the steel works at Port Kembla to the south.

Almost immediately we enter a long tunnel. Our guide shows us the light at the end of the tunnel as this tunnel is almost completely straight. Towards the end though, it takes a turn and the tunnel curves. This is to catch the southerly breeze and blow the smoke out of the tunnel. Impressive engineering all along the way.

We pass through Coledale and along the railway embankment a great expanse of honeysuckle is in flower and the beautiful fragrance fills the carriage as we pass.

Down on the flat we pick up speed. Blowing our whistle in long strong blasts as we approach a string of level crossings. Quite a novelty as level crossings have been pretty much eliminated in the Sydney Metropolitan area. Just a very few low volume crossings remain.

As we pass Unanderra a group of little kids motion like they are pulling the train whistle in a distinct pattern. It must be a game between the driver and these kids when they are in their backyard to see the train pass by. It's not the usual whistle, they couldn't have fluked it. As we emerge from the built up areas in the northern suburbs of Wollongong we admire expansive views of coastal lowlands.


Climbing again the sound of cicadas in the surrounding bush becomes prominent. It's drier and warmer here and the cicadas like the heat. The bush just here is a bit dry and scrubby, but we are soon heading into the catchment area and its pristine bushland. The bush gradually becomes thicker and moister with long lianas growing up trunks. Towering trees draped with their long strips of shed bark stand majestically. Mountain devil bushes are in flower, native hibiscus also.. gullies trickling water. Lovely.
The gradient eases and we pull in to Summit Tank platform. The local volunteer organisations have constructed this lookout which provides superb views across Lake Illawarra. Mount Kembla is to the north. Shellharbour to the south. It is a fabulous view here in the midst of the water catchment area. Our man in charge provides a little talk about all that we can see; the construction of the line; summit tank and so on. I find it interesting and rather annoying that many of the passengers are being very rude and talking among themselves rather than listen.
Of course I'm not going to post a photo of the view.. heritage operators need all the ticket sales support they can get, being not-for-profit and volunteer operated. Last thing I want to do is wreck the business.... we continue on through the bush. Banksia serrata everywhere with cones forming up for a beautiful display and the delight of the honeyeaters.



We emerge from the bush on the approaches to Robertson into green farm fields stocked with beautiful hereford cattle. On the western side horses are grazing and there are expansive views across the highlands. I'm on the lookout for the views to the east. The road at this point has spectacular views. We get some of these views, but the road actually has a less obstructed view. The train travels discretely behind a hedgerow for much of the trip in to Robertson township. At one point we smile as a young black angus calf capers as we pass in a field lush with grass.
We pass right past the old cheese factory (literally) the factory must have been built on the line to facilitate loading up the goods. The cheese factory is now a cluster of shops and of course is the location of the Pig and Whistle cafe which is a great place to stop for a leisurely meal.

We pull into Robertson train station and virtually everyone alights to spend a few hours exploring this charming little highlands town.
Opposite the station we admire a row of what I think must be a variety of telopea (waratah species) covered in bright red blooms.
The gardens at the station are well kept with dahlias and coloured calla lilies. We have a few minutes to have a quick look at the historical displays in the old station building. We don't have nearly enough time to take them in properly, but make a note to return some time and browse at our leisure. Across from the station is a lovely town common with picnic facilities.

We keep an eye out for the man in the black hat to give the signal that the train is about to head off to Moss Vale. We have opted to go all the way to Moss Vale as we are frequently in Robertson and on the other hand we don't have general access to the train line through this way.

Underway once more the train line travels across rural pastures and we have lovely views across the reservoir.. name escapes me.. it's the one that supplies Fitzroy Falls at any rate. It is an interesting scheme here. The water is all linked up with Tallowa Dam in Kangaroo Valley and the water circulates down over the falls giving them a reliable flow.


If you are coming on the Cockatoo Run you are definitely well advised to alight at Robertson rather than continue on, so there's no harm in posting a video of what you miss if you choose not to go on to Moss Vale.






The train comes to a stop in amongst a long row of pines bordering nearby pastures. We wait here and enjoy the peace of the place. We are the only passengers. We stand here for quite a lengthy period, maybe 20 mins or so. Have a little doze. We are chilling. The whole trip has been exceedingly relaxing.

Apparently we have been waiting in the crossing loop for a freight train, which we understand is hauling limestone from Marulan and which has priority, to pass us before we can move off. Finally the goes through and we move on to Moss Vale. We come to another stop. We wait. We wait some more. Apparently this time we have another freight train that has to come through and it's running late throwing us out of whack. We're on the main south line here. Not some quiet backwater. The freight train passes but we're still stuck. We're beginning to wonder if we would have been better advised to alight at Robertson with everyone else. We are kept informed about what is going on by our volunteer hosts at all times. Apparently this time it's the xpt coming through. It has priority also.


At last we get the go ahead to move on in to Moss Vale station. We have been sheltering in an inspection siding, or something like that. We move slowly back to the main line and there's a significant bump. Hmm. We're still chillin'. Some little while later and it is explained to us... no doubt we felt a bit of a bump a little while ago? ...yeesss... that was the train derailing. Seems the signaller at Junee moved the points under the moving train. Helpful. This is a BIG headache for 3801. A breakdown crew will be along, but not in time for passengers to meet their timetable. There is some discussion about how to get the passengers back where they need to go. For us another xpt passing through makes a special stop. We clamber down from the Illawarra Treetop Flyer, carefully attended by our friendly volunteers walk across the tracks and clamber up the ladder and into the XPT.

It might be a hassle of massive paperwork and investigations for the infrastructure manager and for 3801, but we're laughing. You couldn't pay for excitement like that!! The XPT takes us speedily back to central via Campbelltown and Strathfield. We are running hours ahead of schedule now and make it back to central at about 4:30 rather than 7 pm.

We have had a wonderful day on the Cockatoo Run. I read a testimonial on their website that said what a relaxing day it was and I absolutely agree. We enjoyed it, and our jaunt on the XPT, so much that we have decided it would be wonderful fun to do a bit more travel by rail. We both like the idea of the Indian Pacific with a weeks stopover in Broken Hill and another in Adelaide to see family for a few days before proceeding across to Perth. Now the Indian Pacific is an iconic Australian rail journey. ... ah.. one day...

Our dinner reservation is not till 8:15 so we have some time to kill. I've not brought my weekly train ticket with me, not expecting to have use for it. But it's all good. This forces us to try the new fee city circle bus. We rather would like to catch a movie. We wizz back and forth around the city on the new free service and find it extremely convenient. Not all that many passengers in these early days but a steady stream of patrons at any rate. An hour later we're back at Circular Quay. As we missed lunch in all the excitement of derailing, we grab a snack of a couple of potato scallops and prawn cutlets before we board the ferry for Watson's Bay. The snack is very tasty but quite oily and I wish I had something more absorbent than the butchers paper it came wrapped in.

The Sydney Ferries ticket attendant tells us we should be back at Circular Quay at about 7:30 which should give us time to get back and collect the car and head to dinner at the Red Lantern.

Among the other patrons we board our ferry. The Louise Sauvage. This is a high speed twin hulled affair. It has ample outside spaces and a large commodious interior. I have to say though that we both found it an utterly charmless way to explore the harbour and we vow to repeat the exercise on the Sydney Ferries heritage explorer service. Ms Sauvage (who is a great athlete - world champion wheelchair racer) deserves a more charming vessel, but then when I think about it Louise Sauvage is fast- so is this ferry!!



Our trip takes us to Double Bay, Rose Bay and finally Watson's Bay. We take up positions in the front of the vessel outside and get a wonderful view of Fort Denison (pinchgut) as we pass.
The views back to the bridge and opera house are rather bright at this late time of day with the sun approaching the horizon.





The harbour is looking a treat.
Our first stop is Double Bay. Nice enough, but nothing to write home about in Sydney Harbour terms in my opinion.
Our next port of call is Rose Bay. Not much of a beach here. There is a nice looking park back behind the wharf though.. and a nice little patisserie up at the shops in there somewhere by the way...

Our speedy craft jets away to Watson's Bay which faces due west. I had heard great things about the views here, and they are nice enough, but you don't see the opera house or bridge or anything particularly glamorous. It is a very nice ambience at Watson's Bay. Like Manly you feel like you are miles away from the city.


Doyles is situated right on the beach. Obviously this place was settled before such things were not permitted. It is indeed a killer location and they just about have the monopoly on food here. Not cheap for what you get by the look of it. I peer at the food of people dining at the wharf outlet. Looks OK but nothing out the box by appearance at any rate. None-the-less I can certainly see the point made by many that even it its not the BEST fish and chips, having it here in this delightful spot wouldn't be hard to take, and it is certainly a Sydney icon.

Up behind the beach is a large grassed park with a large and elaborate children's playground with a shade sail. There are people kicking a ball around. This place is the epitomy of an Aussie summer...

There is another cafe in an old but well maintained building called the Dunbar. This must be named for the ship of that name... if memory serves the Dunbar was wrecked off Sydney somewhere..... a quick google and I find that my memory is not failing me. The Dunbar is described in the NSW State archives as Australia's Titanic.
We wander to the south along the promenade. We only have about 15 minutes till the last ferry takes us back to our dinner booking. There is a tidal pool for swimming. It's in somewhat of a state is disrepair and there is a sign on the fence about a development proposal, but we don't examine this in detail.

We walk around the pool. There are oysters growing everywhere. I am amazed noone has collected them, but I guess people have better sense than to eat an oyster grown in Sydney Harbour. Oysters concentrate any toxins in the water, so here with all the city and old industrial pollution a local grown oyster is the last thing you'd want to consume.
Time is pressing and we decide we'd best make a speedy return to the ferry, which has just been sitting hanging around since we arrived.
There are a few magnificent fig trees along the promenade which provide a very pleasant canopy over the path.
We have enjoyed our brief sojourn at Watson's Bay very much, but it's time to go.
The ferry speeds along back past the harbour islands that can be visited on a tour from circular quay.
It's now about 7:30 pm. Back at the quay we hang about for 10 minutes not sure if the free city circle bus is still running. Not expecting to have this time I didn't check this out before we came out. No bus in the offing so we hop a train to central, pick up our car and drive around to Crown Street and prove that parking angels are not international travellers. Brother is in Japan again over christmas January and his parking angel is enjoying a work out helping us. We get a brilliant spot not far from the Red Lantern and in no time we're being welcomed to our table for two on the terrace.
The Red Lantern is high end Vietnamese. What can I say. Superb. It has been winning awards lately and it deserves them. The service was casual and friendly but wonderfully attentive without intrusion. The food was absolutely delicious. We will definitely be back. We ate far more than we needed to as it was just too delicious, including beverages (a couple of beers and water) we're set back about $185 (including a tip on this occassion).
It's pretty late of course by the time we're finished. Our parking spot has us set up perfectly for just going down the street on or two turns and we're back on the freeway. Couldn't be easier.
We have had a spectacular day.

The forgotten people

This is one of the all time great speaches given in Australia. Still as relevant today as it was over 60 years ago when it was given by Sir Robert Menzies on 22 May 1942 ...

Quite recently, a bishop wrote a letter to a great daily newspaper. His theme was the importance of doing justice to the workers. His belief, apparently, was that the workers are those who work with their hands. He sought to divide the people of Australia into classes. He was obvioulsy suffering from what has for years seemed to me to be our greatest political disease - the disease of thinking that the community is divided into the rich and relatively idle, and the laborious poor, and that every social and political controversy can be resolved into the question: What side are you on?
Now, the last thing that I want to do is to commence or take part in a false war of this kind. In a country like Australia the class war must always be a false war. But if we are to talk of classes, then the time has come to say something of the forgotten class - the middle class - those people who are constantly in danger of being ground between the upper and the nether millstones of the false class war; the middle class who, properly regarded, represent the backbone of this country.
We do not have classes here as in England and therefore the terms do not mean the same; so I must define what I mean when I use the expression "middle class".
Let me first define it by exclusion. I exclude at one end of the scale the rich and powerful: those who control great funds and enterprises, and are as a rule able to protect themselves - though it must be said that in a political sense they have as a rule shown neither comprehension nor competence. But I exclude them because in most material difficulties, the rich can look after themselves.
I exclude at the other end of the scale the mass of unskilled people, almost invariably well organised, and with their wages and conditions protected by popular law. What I am excluding them from is my definition of middle class. We cannot exclude them from the problem of social progress, for one of the prime objects of modern social and political policy is to give to them a proper measure of security, and provide the conditions which will enable them to acquire skill and knowledge and individuality.
These exclusions being made, I include the intervening range - the kind of people I myself represent in Parliament - salary earners, shopkeepers, skilled artisans, professional men and women, farmers and so on. These are, in the political and economic sense, the middle class. They are for the most part unorganised and unselfconscious. The are envied by those whose social benefits are largely obtained by taxing them. They are not rich enough to have individual power. They are taken for granted by each political party in turn. They are not sufficiently lacking in individualism to be organised for what in these days we call "pressure politics". And yet, as I have said, they are the backbone of the nation.
The middle class, more than any other, provides the intelligent ambition which is the motive power of human progress. The idea entertained by many people that, in a well-constituted world, we shall all live on the State is the quintessence of madness, for what is the State but us? We collectively must provide what we individually receive.
The great vice of democracy - a vice which is exacting a bitter retribution from it at this moment - is that for a generation we have been busy getting ourselves on to the list of beneficiaries and removing ourselves from the list of contributors, as if somewhere there was somebody else's wealth and somebody else's effort on which we could thrive.
To discourage ambition, to envy success, to hate achieved superiority, to distrust independent thought, to sneer at and impute false motives to public service - these are the maladies of modern democracy, and of Australian democracy in particuar. Yet ambition, effort, thinking, and readiness to serve are not only the design and objectives of self-government but are the essential conditions of its success. If this is not so, then we had better put back the clock and search for a benevolent autocracy once more.
Where do we find these great elements most commonly? Among the defensive and comfortable rich, among the unthinking and unskilled mass, or among what I have called the "middle class"?
One of the great blots on our modern living is the cult of false values, a repeated application of the test of money, notoriety, applause. A world in which a comedian or a beautiful half-wit on the screen can be paid fabulous sums, whilst scientific researchers and discoverers can suffer neglect and starvation, is a world which needs to have its sense of values violently set right.
Now, have we realised and recognised these things, or is most of our policy designed to discourage or penalise thrift, to encourage dependence on the State, to bring about a dull equality on the fantastic idea that all men are equal in mind and needs and desserts: the level down by taking the mountains out of the landscape, to weigh men according to their political organisations and power - as votes and not as human beings? These are formidable questions, and we cannot escape from answering them if there is really to be a new order for the world...
If the new world is to be world of men, we must be not pallid and bloodless ghosts, but a community of of people whose motto shall be, "to strive, to seek, to find and not to yield". Individual enterprise must drive us forward. That does not mean that we are to return to the old and selfish notions of laissez-faire. The functions of the State will be much more than merely keeping the ring within which the competitors will fight. Our social and industrial obligations will be increased. There will be more law, not less; more control, not less.
But what really happens to us will depend on how many people we have who are of the great and sober and dynamic middle class - the stivers, the planners, the ambitious ones. We shall destroy them at our peril.

A perfect Sydney night

Today is day one of a disjointed holidaying at home initiative. We have theatre tickets for the Opera House tonight so have booked a table at Aria and have gone one further today by booking the 1 hour essential opera house tour at 4:30 pm.
We have a smooth and free flowing 45 minute drive in, entertained by our British friends Supertramp and park in the Opera House Car Park, stunned as we emerge from the car to find that the car park is like an oven. Considerably hotter than the weather outside which seems odd for an underground facility. We find our way to the tours desk to collect our prebooked tickets. There is a sign up advising that all tours for the rest of the day are fully booked and the tours desk attendant congratulates us on having the good sense to book ahead. Tickets secured we’re in plenty of time so we spend a half hour or so wandering around the promenade and around the Opera House exterior admiring the view of Admiralty House - Sydney residence of the Governor General of Australia.

and Pinchgut.

We’ve had quite a bit of rain in Sydney lately and though the weather is mostly fine today, there is quite a bit of cloud about and it is very warm and humid. After soaking up great views of the bridge and the sails of the Opera House

We grab a drink from the café and admire some nice opal jewellery and nuggets and browse the Opera House gift shop. We come to performances in the OH regularly, but I don’t believe I’ve ever been in the gift shop before!
We join the tour group at the meeting point and notice on the flyer that they hand out with the tickets that we could have got 20% off tix to the backstage tour. Bugger!! I booked the backstage tour online already in a separate transaction. Would have meant quite a saving too. Grrr
They have rearranged the route for the tour at the moment due to the death of Jorn Utzon and we commence in the foyer of the Opera Theatre with a video about the planning and construction of this architectural icon. It’s saccharin sweet and hubby and I glance at eachother and share a look and a smile. Apparently we Sydneysiders watched with delight and awe as this marvellous vision arose from the ashes of Bennelong point. Oh yeah? That’s not the way I remember it. I rather think that by the time there was any sign of a sail going up we Sydneysiders were getting pretty bloody annoyed at the time and budget over-runs. I also seem to recall that people were reasonably polarised about the whole project. Those that liked the concept and figured it would be a great building in the end, and those that couldn’t see past the black hole money pit that the project had become.
We enter the Opera Theatre and take our seats and I’m instantly wishing I’d booked those Mikado seats when they went on sale on the 29th. The guide explains the terminology for the style of stage arrangement and orchestra pit and we hear a few amusing anecdotes and have an opportunity to ask questions. We then move on to the northern foyer. The guide points out a few landmarks – which would all be well known to locals and tells us a bit about Fort Denison. The guide is quite formal and doesn’t mention that to locals it is more usually referred to as “pinchgut”. We spend some time hearing about the guiding concepts and vision that influenced the design of this space – very impressive and effective – and we move out of the eastern shell and into a small space between the two main shells to hear about the tiles with which the sails are coated.
Here in the northern foyer we pause once more for another snippet of video. This time the video answers an earlier question from someone about the controversy that occurred during construction when the government stopped paying the architect who then left the project and was replaced by a local firm to bring the building to completion. It’s no secret that from an original cost and time estimate of 3 years and 7 million dollars, the project ended up taking 10 years and $103 Million, during much of which they hadn’t figured out how to actually convert the design concept into an actual structure, and with some other architects and engineers claiming it couldn't be done - Hence the prevailing feeling in Sydney during construction actually being more one of concern than of awe and delight. I think any awe at the time was reserved for how a government project could be so apparently mismanaged. Nowadays I guess we all understand that if you want an iconic groundbreaking piece of architecture in your city you have to be prepared for that. It’s an accepted part of commissioning something from Frank Gehry I understand, but that sort of speculation is inevitably going to raise some serious questions when entered into as a Government project. Now of course we have the benefit of hindsight and I think you’d be hard pressed to find a Sydneysider that doesn’t love the Opera House…and the bridge. We Sydneysiders love “the coathanger” like it’s a member of the family.
We move into the larger shell which houses the Concert Hall. We are lucky today to be able to access these two main performance spaces shortly after the matinee performances have each finished. An hour earlier and this would not have been possible. We enter the concert hall. This is my first time in the Concert Hall and it is a beautiful space. We have tickets booked for Masters of Tradition on Australia Day in here and I am thrilled to have the opportunity of sitting in this space for an extended period when the time comes. It’s just delightful and photos don’t do it justice at all. We are told about the organ and that the acoustics are up there with the best acoustic spaces in the world.
When question time arrives I rather indelicately ask about the common perception that the acoustics in the Opera House pretty much suck – I gather that must be a myth? Our guide – ever unflappable – explains the detail of Utzon’s commission and that while the acoustics in the Concert Hall are excellent, the acoustics in the other performance spaces are less so. We hear about how the Opera House was paid for (go on the tour) and move on into the northern foyer of this shell. Similar to the other northern foyer but in this case with vibrant purple rather than the red in the northern foyer of the opera hall shell. We move along once more - again outside and down to the Drama theatre – which commonly houses performances by Sydney Theatre Company. At the moment it is housing Pig Iron People a new play by comedian John Doyle. We are curious to get a glimpse at the sets as this is the show we’re seeing tonight.
A few more anecdotes and we hear about the chairs. Our guide with a straight face tells us that they were designed by an orthopaedic surgeon (or something like that) and that they are often in receipt of compliments that the seats are very comfortable. Really? Most people I know don’t think so. I mean they could be worse, but they could be a lot better. Now greater union has comfortable seating. I think that’s pretty much the benchmark at the moment in Sydney. Indeed I understood that the reason the Opera House can’t replace them with more comfortable seats is that they are actually also heritage listed. I ask about the heritage listing of the seats and this is confirmed by our guide. I won’t spill all the tid bits about the seating – I mean you want to enjoy the tour yourself surely.
Our tour concludes and we have enjoyed it. Along the way there’s a bit of name dropping of now internationally famous actors who have performed and worked in other roles at the Opera House when they were starting out. It will be interesting to compare this tour to the backstage tour we have booked in January.
Having worn sensible shoes for the tour, we adjourn to the car and I change into my heels and we wander down to Aria for dinner, making a point of trying to travel on the more even of the surfaces. I can’t say the Opera House forecourt is entirely heel friendly.
Well. Aria. What can I say. Wonderful. Just wonderful. We are greeted by a very friendly woman and shown to our window seat at what I describe as a chaperone table, which is too wide to touch eachother but does have pleasant views over Circular Quay. The service is just the right level of attentive without being intrusive. We start with complimentary warm sourdough rolls. Yum. Hubby orders a Coopers before checking out the actual drinks menu, while I stick with the chilled water as is my usual preference. We’re on the pre-theatre menu of course.
At just the right interval our entrees arrive. Hubby’s the terrine of duck, dates, baby carrots and duck ham, I’ve gone for the roast spiced scallops with prawn crisps, shaved fennel and a tamarind and date dressing. It’s a challenge at this chaperone table but we each sample and agree so far in our ordering competition we are level pegging. Each dish is just delicious.
Meanwhile hubby has browsed the drinks menu and decides to try a moo beer from Tassie. It’s a wheat beer and he’s enjoyed other wheat beers he’s tried and it’s an intriguing name. It arrives and I sample the aromas. Hmm, I can definitely understand why they called it moo beer. It smells like a cow paddock…. novel.
Apparently it also tasted like a cow paddock… well, lets not be delicate about it.. it smelled and tasted like a cow pat. .. not that we’ve actually TASTED of course. Definitely required another coopers to get rid of the taste.
Our mains arrive looking equally tantalising. Hubby has gone for the roasted Glenloth chicken breast, crushed mint peas, ricotta filled zucchini flower and almond dressing. I had been tempted by that but as we have a preference not to both have the same thing I go for the roast cutlet of lamb with a lamb pastia, fennel and red capsicum. We have chosen sides of truffled mash and broccolini. We enthusiastically sample once more and once more we are unable to pick a winner. Everything is just delicious and we clean our plates (and side bowls). No way we’re sending that mash and broccolini to the bin!!
We don’t need it, but yes please we’ll see the dessert menu. A wait of 20 mins for my passionfruit soufflé with pina colada sorbet. Before the desserts arrive I’m confidently predicting that will beat the coconut panna cotta with mango sorbet, mango and pineapple chips hubby has ordered. The soufflé is as marvellous as expected, perhaps even better. Light as a feather…. But the tension rises as hubby’s panna cotta looks just sensational too. Again we sample and are delighted that in fact no winner can be declared tonight. We tie. Quite a compliment to the chef.
Hubby finishes with a cappuccino and we are brought some complimentary petit fours. The petit fours smell great!. Tiny squares of banana cheesecake, chocolate truffle and macadamia nut nougat. We start with the banana cheesecake. Mmmm.. then agonise as to which of the others to finish on.. I decide that the nougat smells too good to not go last which proves to be the right decision. A delightful flourish to end a superb meal. We can’t wait to come back. $260 and we’re off to our show.
There’s a shift in tone as the sun sets and people arrive for the evening performances. There’s plenty of people around who’ve decided to dress up briskly walking to towards the Opera House. We arrive at the perfect timing to pick up a program and take our seats. Pig Iron People was very funny and I recognised a number of pig iron people I have known in the characters. There were also more serious moments and the audience really responded in either case. An all star cast – Max Cullen of course, and Jackie Weaver is perfect as Rosie and has opportunity to use her lovely voice; Bruce Venables Judy Farr and Danny Adcock all a delight to watch as they bring the characters to life. I feel grateful to have the opportunity to see these wonderful actors strut their stuff.
We emerge to Sydney in her glamour wear. The city lights and the harbour are a magical fairly land at night and with the Bridge and Opera House all lit up Sydney is just SO beautiful. We amble back to the car. Pay the hefty parking fee and join the snail trail out of the car park – clearly we didn’t spend long enough soaking up the ambience along the promenade or the vibrant buzz of the Opera Bar.. A hop and a skip and we’re back on the motorway home.
What a brilliant evening. This is what Sydney is about. The harbour. fine dining. great theatre on a beautify balmy summer night. It doesn’t get much better than that.

A very interesting woman

It's time to return to considering some cultural things. A few years ago I read a biography of Jesse Street or "red Jessie" as she was known. Jesse Street was a campaigner for human and women's rights. She's one of the great Australian women of all time and lead an incredibly interesting life. In the first half of the 2oth century it seems like she was everywhere that critical events were happening.
I have just found that the website of the National Archives has a webpage dedicated to Jessie Street. It was great to refresh my memory of her life and contribution and I hope you enjoy it too. Just click on the highlighted link above.
By the way, there is a building named after Jessie Street in Parramatta NSW. You know you've arrived when they start naming buildings after you LOL

Monday 6 October - Cowra and Carcoar to home

For some reason I got it into my head that we came back again through Young, which was part of one option I was considering but not the option I finally chose..still, the scenery was nice, but naturally it cost us about an hour of unecessary travelling. Our first stop is Cowra, where we find there is not a lot open on this holiday Monday, so despite a couple of turns down the main drag we spot nothing particularly tempting so we make the turn towards the Japanese Gardens and POW camp site etc which are all in the same area. The cherry trees along the street aren't making much of a show and there's not a lot of colour visible inside the gardens from the road. The site of the Japanese gardens looked really quite hilly. The offspring have made it known that they'd prefer to get home in the early afternoon if possible as they (and I come to that) need to back up for work tomorrow. Although it is clear that mum would like to go in and check out the gardens, I decide that we'd best not. While mum would no doubt drag herself around, it will take her much time and wheezing and stopping and lord knows, going shopping is bad enough, if we set foot in the gardens it will be hours before we can get out of there.

We take a spin looking at the wonderful views from the top of the hill here and head for the POW camp site. It too has beautiful views across the rolling hills. The buildings and fences are long gone, but there is what appears to be an ornamental guard tower and some interpretive boards looking out over some remaining foundations. The interpretive boards are in both English and Japanese.


There are also several memorials, the most elaborate of which is one raised by the Italians and on which the writing is in Italian.



The younger ones of us decide to take a swift walk, or in the case of Son, run, down the hill to the other section. Mum makes herself at home chatting to other visitors. While Son careers down the hill, I pick my way along the sheep track, avoiding the softest bits and the sheep poo. Clearly they graze the site to keep the vegetation down.


There are boards here and there explaining where abouts in the camp you would be standing and trying to show what you would have been looking at. We find the site more moving and more interesting that we expected and I'm glad we made the effort.

Next stop is the War Cemetary. Well we really just do a drive past. We had some difficulty along the way missing a turn for which the sign is obstructed by trees. We aren't the only ones either, but after a little while driving along a most pleasant road through lush fields, we twig we can't be heading the right way and I figure that the cherry tree avenue must be a clue. Sure enough when the avenue of cherry trees stops you need to turn, the avenue continues around the corner to the war cemetary. The general gist of the cemetary can pretty much be seen from the road. Anyway we move along as time is short.

Along the way back towards Sydney we take a strange little detour towards a waterfall, but we eventually find the road is blocked by standing water and are obliged to turn around. Unfortunately I cannot recall the name of the place as I was slack when I got home and didn't write up the day's travels. It was a pretty reserve anyhow, so next time we're passing through that way we might try again when we spot the sign.

Next serious stop is Carcoar. A turn on the spur of the moment. We're in need of a comfort stop and some lunch. We admire a wisteria trained around the verandah as we park. It's smothered in bloom and looks fabulous.



We visit the amenities and play on the swings for a while. Nice swings that are kind to grown up bottoms.. you're never too old for a swing, and even grandma has a go laughing and saying it's years since she's been on a swing...

... Not everything is open today, but the RSL museum is and there is a very very friendly lady manning the doorway and she encourages us to come in. We climb the stairs, or in mum's case she is transported using the chair lift thingy which is a bit of a laugh. The museum is really great. They have reached a level of quality in their collection that they seem to attract donations of more really good stuff. Always my favourites are the trench art and other items made by the diggers, or souvenired. There's plenty on local veterans too, and a good collection of uniforms, books and things. Definitely worth a look if you find it open when you're in town.
Our guide also shows us the mural in the hall, which is very impressive and we hear the low down on what's open in town today, some local history and our guide's family history, even about the time a car went straight through the front of one of the houses down the road. We get the drum on the Australia Day celebrations too. I'd love to go to that, but I don't think it's likely this coming year for us.
We eventually take our leave. Just down the road a bit we pause at the local war memorial.


From there we head around the corner to the nice little cafe our guide recommended. The owners are progressively doing up this historic building to let rooms for accommodation as well. The ambience is very nice but the food is kind of ordinary. Still, it is perfectly edible and we enjoy our lunch. We are very very impressed with Carcoar, but it's very hilly and doesn't lend itself to exploration by mum while we're short on time.
The rain is still coming down on and off. We are lucky while we are eating on the verandah, but by the time we are leaving it's coming down again. We loved Carcoar. It's a beautiful atmospheric little place, well deserving of its heritage listing. It would certainly make a great place for a quiet relaxing and romantic weekend away.

We vote to take the Bells Line of Road home.. well basically because we came the other way on the way out and of course we just like the BLOR. We stop to buy some waratahs which are great value and oh so beautiful. We nurse them home and mine - which were only $20 - are displayed in my Pilliga pottery urn, here for a brief while in our hovel which is no longer. It's a georgeous urn don't you think? $500 worth. IMHO worth every penny and I am absolutely thrilled that it looks so lovely with the waratahs in it. It should look great in the new house. We watched this pot have the design drawn on it when we visited pilliga pottery this time last year, then after a few months for drying and glazing etc we took delivery of it. Daughter and I vow that we should make a trip up to get some waratahs an annual tradition. They do of course have smaller waratahs for sale also, but aren't these big ones beautiful!


Best laid plans, we get home in the early evening. Tired, but we've had a lovely holiday, with lots of quality family time, and it only cost us about $200 each would you believe!

Sunday 5 October - Boroowa - Running of the Sheep

Daylight savings started overnight. It was a rough night. A car left at midnight noisily. Then at about 1am some people started yelling and carrying on. Then at 2:30 the car returned. BAD night’s sleep. I arose fairly early – about 6am or so and showered and dressed and went for a walk around the block which was cool and pleasant. Snapped some photos. Nice to be out and about early and able to admire the streetscape without lots of people or cars, though you wouldn't exactly call Grenfell crowded in any case.

I walk up the main street and pay a visit to the war memorial. It is quite extensive with the eternal flame, a separate pillar memorial and also a white marble memorial to those who served in the Boer war.

Grenfell has three very nice old hotels (ie pubs) ......the Railway Hotel,

........

the Exchange Hotel

.....and the Albion Hotel.

One of the windows is decorated in Manly colours I snap a photo to show hubby when we get back - footy grand final tonight and Manly's in it. That's where hubby is. No chance of him coming away with Manly in the grand final!!

Not much other than the newsagent open. We took our time about readying ourselves for the day and decided to have brekkie en route. IGA closed of course so no milk. We headed down to Young through more lovely countryside and make a stop at the JD Jam Factory. Daughter indulged in Devonshire tea which was quite nice but used fake aerated cream…she also tried the banana smoothie and enjoyed that.. I went for the cherry pie. It didn’t look real great so I really should have known better, but I did expect them to warm it up at least. But no, it arrived cold and clammy and just not nice. I also ordered the cherry smoothie, which was nice, but Daughter thought it was too sweet. Son ordered a hot dog with chips and a vanilla thick shake which he enjoyed a lot.. Mum had a toasted chicken and avocado sandwich that looked very good and she said was absolutely delicious. On her own insistence she won the ordering competition. We bought a few souvenirs and jam and stuff. Nothing was cheap. On the whole I thought the place was a bit of a tourist trap really and so far the jam hasn't been that great.
Straight through from Young to Boorowa in quite a line of traffic which cramped my sightseeing style as I drove. The scenery looked nice though. Boorowa was crowded with people. A huge turnout for the Irish Woolfest this weekend with detours and special parking arrangements in place. Luckily we happen upon a small paddock close to the main street where disabled parking has been set up. We park under an elm in full flower, display our permit and wander into the main street area past a huge jumping castle. The barriers have been set up ready for the running of the sheep at midday. We arrived at about 11:15 am. We browse the stalls. I buy sample some jars of local bottled poached prunes (delicious!) and a pack of prunes – 500 grams but very dry so quite good value and they include a recipe for poaching; also a jar of D’agen plum conserve. $8 a jar for two or more jars of poached prunes, 8 for the prunes and 5.50 for the conserve.
There are pipe and other bands entertaining the crowds. The pipe bands regularly playing waltzing matilda, they also played On the Road to Gundagai which is one of my favourites. I used to sing it to my elder daughter as a lullaby LOL!! A singer fellow sang Click Go the Shears. It was all very Aussie and Irish traditional. Later in the proceedings the irish folk music and dancing came on. At midday they announce that they are almost ready for the running of the sheep.

The police come through in the parade first and we wait as the sheep proceed down the street. They are stud merinos from Merryvale stud (which we later pass on the way back to Grenfell). Nice looking sheep that’s for sure. They are being herded by several gorgeous kelpies and from our vantage point at the end pens we see the sheep heading straight for us with them occasionally jumping over eachother. Seriously cool! We watch as they select the sheep to decide the winner of the sweep then load the sheep back on the truck to go home. Daughter’s heart is a flutter at the manly farmers and their quad bikes and work vehicles.

Meanwhile the rest of the parade starts off. This included a procession of vintage tractors, finishing with a big old (temperamental) steam one. Very COOL! They also had a big semi-trailer with a rough corrugated iron roofed shearing stand with the electric hand sets accompanied by a guy shearing with the old fashioned blades. Very COOL. And SO many people. A really festive atmosphere. We head in to the art show and are very taken with quite a few of the works on display. Charcoal sketches of gum tree bark and also a nice landscape which I end up buying. It’s all great. $2 entry for a worthy local cause. I’m in need of a new apron so we pick up a Boorowa one. $20. Daughter and I are quite interested in some wool and woollen products in stalls nearby. We both end up paying an arm and a leg for some home spun Alpaca yarn for scarf knitting. The packs have photos of the actual beast who’s fleece it is on them. No dyes the batch number is the name of the animal. We each happen to choose wool from a couple of alpacas who are guard animals for a flock of sheep.

The facilities are humming and in need of a rest stop the long queues at the public toilet block make me grateful to the Kenny’s of the world as I utilise the portable facilities nearby. Man, have portable toilets come a long way!

We replenish cash supplies and continue browsing up the street. There’s a cool wooden products stall which has some tempting stuff. Best to wait until the house is finished. Returning on the far side of the street we get a $10 wood fired pizza to share for lunch. Daughter grabs a sausage sandwich. We all get drinks.

Finally having had a full and enjoyable day in Boroowa it’s off home to Grenfell with a stop in Young to buy fuel. It’s cheaper in Young than other towns around the traps – this week anyway. We stopped at a hopeless little gallery at Mirr? Between Boorowa and Young and we take a spin down the main street of Young. Reminded us of Narrabri. Rather big, but they haven’t ruined the architecture of the street along the way over the years.

The scenery as you drive from Boorowa to Young is really beautiful. Especially at the moment with the pastures and crops looking pretty after all the rain. Not much in the way of blossom in Young anywhere we could see, which was a bit disappointing, but then they don't really make a big deal of it on their tourist website so we can't really complain. Cherry Festival would be the time to go I should think.

Before lobbing up to our Motel we take a spin out to Holy Camp picnic ground at Weddin Mtns National Park just to check it out. Ben Hall picnic area is a lot nicer we thought. On the way back out we spot about 5 crimson chats by the road. Then it’s home for a rest before dinner at the local chinese restaurant which is full of people and really cheap. Good food too especially for the price.

Saturday 4th October - Grenfell and Weddin Mountains NP

It rained heavily overnight and is still raining when we wake in the morning. The sky is clear at dawn but there are clearly showers passing and heading in from the west and south west. We take our time packing up. I do my exercises. By the time we are not far off being ready to go the rain comes down in torrents. We can’t decide what to do. Our plan for today was to wander the Weddin Bird Trails around Grenfell, ending at the Grenfell Motel overnight and tomorrow night. We decide to make our way towards Grenfell and decide what to do when we get there depending on the weather. The drive down from Forbes is pretty and particularly at the start there are masses of flowering trees everywhere. We are a bit puzzled that there doesn’t seem to be much in the way of honeyeater activity. It’s pretty pointless trying to birdwatch in the rain and it’s still coming down, so it’s a pretty businesslike drive through the beautiful scenery.

Daughter is mesmerised by a single mature tree standing at the top of a rise in a nearby paddock. We stop and she takes many many photographs....

By the time we reach the intersection of the Mid western highway it’s still raining and the mountains to the south are shrouded in cloud. We decide to head towards west Wyalong and maybe even to Lake Cargellico or Hay. Still sure that there must be something to see in the flowering trees we pull over by a couple of huge gums near Ooma creek that are absolutely smothered in bloom. Blow me down if there aren’t a flock of superb parrots feeding in them and the smaller flowering trees just inside the nearby paddock. It’s still pretty wet, spitting rain, and the tall seeding grasses are dripping of course. Eventually, somewhat wet legged, we give up and turn our attention to the west once again.

A few kilometres down the track we come to a rest area and an enticing blacktop road heading off to the right. On the spur of the moment I turn in to see what we can see in the flowering trees round about. As we pull over it’s clear there’s a lot of birds about at this spot – birdsong is abundant, so we park and grab our binoculars and see what we can see. The birding is great here - too enthralling to think of photos apparently and I have none.

At first we examine a patch of native pine that is mixed with some flowering gums. We find red-capped robins, white winged trillers, brown-headed honeyeater, superb fairy wrens, immature golden whistler with its rich rufous on the back of the wing, striated pardalote and yellow rumped thornbills, with their glorious twittering call – these are just the highlights you understand. There are always the ubiquitous white winged choughs and apostlebirds and other common stuff. I wander along further down the road and we find more superb parrots. A young male sits happy as larry at the end of a high dead branch. There’s quite a flock of superb parrots hanging about. We turn and find a cockatiel perched high on another dead branch.

There’s quite few parrots flying back and forth and I think I see blue bonnets fly over to a distant dead tree then as I walk towards the spot they fly back past me to where I’ve come from. I continue on to sus out just what might still be up there as this was the tree where the flock of superb parrots took off to earlier. When I arrive the tree is empty, but almost immediately four parrots come flying over and land in the tree. At least two are blue bonnets. A pair of eastern rosellas soon joins them, but the two blue bonnets stick together and separate from the rosellas. Pretty special. I’ve walked quite a distance up the road so turn and head back towards mum and the car.

We decide to drive up on the off chance that mum might get to creep up and see the blue bonnets, but as we creep along a car speeds past us and disturbs the parrots. Well, we get to see them fly over anyway, and having watched them flying back and forth I’m confirmed in my suspicions that I’d seen several blue bonnets flying past over the last couple of days. Their belly is quite prominent - motly with red as they fly across.
By now the rain seems to be clearing. The cloud is quite high and it’s getting pretty warm. We are therefore encouraged to return to our original plan and head for Grenfell to get supplies for a bbq lunch.

First up we head out to Henry Lawson’s birthplace. The memorial has a plaque on each side with extracts from Lawson's poetry, particularly one that talks about being from Grenfell. We play the tourist snapping photos and then head into town. We're regretting not having a volume of Lawson's poety with us and daughter recalls what a wonderful experience it was staying with friends at Lake Eucumbene and being taken four wheel driving and camping through the snowy mountains and reading The Man from Snowy River by the campfire. The Man From Snowy River is Banjo Patterson of course not Henry Lawson. I think my favourite Henry Lawson poem is Faces in the Street. http://www.abpa.org.au/Bush_Poetry/Traditional_Poetry/faces_in_the_street.html

Grenfell is a nice little town. Quite atmospheric and the neighbourhoods are very pleasant. A magnificent Edwardian/Victorian type double storey house is for sale on a corner. My dream house! We turn into the main street.

We find a park immediately outside the butcher which is convenient. We wander in thinking to buy some sausages for a sizzle. It’s a real old school butcher, with a cold room that has a big sturdy wooden door and another room out the back and the smell which takes me back in an instant to my grandfather's butcher shop (which was on the Pacific Hwy in Artarmon in Sydney).

In the shopfront behind the counter is a huge butchers block and rows of rails with butchers hooks on them. Not much of anything in the refrigerated counter. Just a board up the back of the room listing what they’ve got and cost per kilo. You just have to take it on faith. We enquire after the availability of the sausages. Out of stock unfortunately. Hmm.. A fair deal of procrastination later I order four pieces of scotch fillet. The butcher looks well chuffed. We add four plain rissoles to the order and the butcher heads to the cool room. He returns with a slab of meat from which he proceeds to cut four large pieces. It appears quite different to the scotch fillet we pay 40 odd bucks a kilo for in Sydney. This is quite a different shape and quite heavily marbled. I’m a bit dubious, but I know marbling is good news in meat – so I guess we’ll see. As we go the butcher wishes us a great weekend in a very genuine way – not like the automaton style that is typical in the city where turnovers and customer numbers are high.

We stowe the meat in the esky and make our way to the local bakeries to sus out the sausage rolls. We’re feeling pretty slack having neglected to sample too many at the towns we have passed through. We hunted around in Forbes this morning but could only find a Vietnamese hot bread shop. Vietnamese bread shops don’t generally do good sausage rolls in my experience, so that’s written off from the start. Daughter ducked in to the bread shop while I ducked across the road to Woollies for some crackers to have with our cheese. She bought a “damper” and 6 bread rolls. The “damper” has a beautiful crust that looks like French bread- clearly they have no idea what damper really is. It looks and smells fantastic though and it’s been waiting in the car for lunch. We were lucky to get what we did. Apparently the “damper” was only available because they accidentally made one too many for an order.

...I will never stop missing the bakery in Manly that back in the days when it was illegal to make yeast bread on a Sunday, took to making damper instead. Boy oh boy, I almost wish they'd bring that law back. The damper that bakery sold was SOOOOO good. Every sunday morning a really long queue would snake out the door and down the street and you had to get in early or it would be all sold out... ah, damper, I wish I was better at making it......but I digress..

Grenfell seems to have two bakeries and neither has sausage rolls, just a couple of pies. We’re more or less pleased with that situation we really don’t need more food to be honest.
We head out towards Ben Hall’s Cave in Weddin Mountains National Park. It’s 23 odd kilometres and the scenery is typically lovely as it has been all weekend.

As we stop along the way for grey crowned babblers, red rumped parrots, fairy martins, some sort of singing bird of the fields (identifying these is causing us a good deal of angst), grey teal and Australasian grebes… it takes us a while! We follow the signs and turn into Bimbi State forest, a native Cyprus pine plantation which we understand now forms part of the national park.

Along the way we stop for some sort of bearded dragon that is sitting on the road. He’s quite a lairy yellow colour with a black tail and parts of his body are brown too.

We get out of the car and walk over with the camera. It just sits there! At first it just sits very still. Then when we don’t go away it changes it’s colour getting darker and darker. It puffs out it’s stomach and puffs out it’s beard trying to convince us that it’s a big nasty dangerous lizard and it might be best if we just bugger off.



We don’t off course and he is obliged to extend his efforts. We’re not real pleased to see him so comfy sitting on the road. We move away to see what he does. He eases up on the “I’m a BIG lizard” routine. He doesn’t move. Clearly these lizards are taught by their mum and dad that the worst thing you can do is to look scared or run. I touch his tail to encourage him to move off. Nothing. I keep trying and finally he decides this is getting a bit more intimate than he’s prepared to suffer and he runs at speed into the brush running on his hind legs.

We have a bit of a look at the bronzewing we saw fly off down the road a bit. Then we climb back in and drive through to the picnic area.

There’s a few people camping, but plenty of good picnic sites with campfire available. It’s getting quite late for lunch and who knows how long the rain will hold off, so we get right into building the fire. We‘ve brought all we need. Kindling, wood and blocksplitter. Son and I tend the fire while Daughter slices the bread. We enjoy the little slices with butter as we cook the steak – very delicious. Well above average, but I am not surprised. You could tell by the look of the crust that it was going to be very good.

The fire is going great guns and we think we’re about done on the steak when the fire just looses it’s oomph. Aaaggh! We chuck a bit more wood on and before long we have the steak between a couple of slices of bread, splooped on a bit of tomato sauce and we are each tucking in to the most delicious steak any of us can remember having in a very very long time.. in the case of the kids, possibly best they’ve ever had. It is just superb. Absolutely superb and even if we do say so ourselves, it is cooked to perfection. And only $23 odd a kilo!! This is the life! We wonder what the poor people are doing today!

The rissoles cook slowly as we eat our steak sambos. We’re pretty full, don’t really need more to eat. The steaks were pretty big. I’m almost relieved when the rissoles end up in the fire. Too salty and why bother when we are satiated by superb steak?

We relax for a bit enjoying the serenity and watching the bush tele. Each campsite is well separated. The sky is starting to look a bit threatening, so we pack up, and as the fire dies down we make sure it is properly out and for mum’s benefit move the car closer to the start of the walk to Ben Hall’s Cave. She will mosey around, but isn't capable of a swift walk up to the cave. The guys at the campsite nearby are very friendly and looking for participants for a night of fireworks later. No go for us. We’re heading off… and I’m pretty confident what they’re planning is actually illegal anyway. We head in along the path through some gorgeous seeding grasses. I stop to snap a photo.

As we move into the bush the wildflowers get denser and denser. Brachyscombe, and a stack of others some of which I’m sure you can also get in the nursery.

As we climb up the hill the rocks become more prominent and it is absolutely beautiful. These photos don't begin to do the scene justice, but even so it is very pretty.. It’s like going for a walk through someone’s rock garden.

The flowers and grasses intermingled in a most aesthetically pleasing arrangement. I’m blown away. Yellow paper daisies are here and there among the purples and blues. It is an absolute delight. The path is steep and we set a reasonable pace. Mum is moseying about down on the flatter area, this is way too difficult for the mobility impaired. Finally we come to the cave- which is quite small and fenced off from entry due to the risk of rock falls. There is an interpretive board, and best of all beautiful views across the plains. Wonderful.

The return path comes down from the lookout in a loop so you don’t have to back track at all. As Daughter and I come through we disturb a large dark macropod with a lighter stripe on it’s face. It’s not overly fussed. It moves further off, but then stops to continue feeding giving us an opportunity to take its portrait.

There are several other longer trails from this picnic and camping area, and another one to a couple of lookouts on the other side of the national park. You would never guess to look at the mountains from a distance, or even from the parking area that the bushland of the Weddin Mountains is so pretty. It is definitely worth a visit in spring. The flowers are all looking particularly happy with the rain over the last little while.
Our picnic concluded and the rain starting to close in, we head on back to our Motel in Grenfell. On the way out of the park we disturb a couple of eastern grey kangaroos and they bound away slowly. When we reach it, the motel is modest, which I guess is to be expected for 2 1/2 star. Not very expensive, but not cheap for what you get. It is quite a come down from the Forbes Lake Motel, that is for sure! However we’ve stayed in much much worse than this. It’s clean if a bit tired and it doesn’t smell too bad. Mum’s happy as the old beds are pretty soft how she likes them.

The youngsters decide to head off into the main street for a walk. They play on the monkey bars and stuff in the local park and generally have a bit of fun. Mum gets me to take her out to one of the bird trail sites that’s pretty close to town.

Company Dam is looking pretty desolate in some ways as the dam is quite empty and so all that area that is usually under water is just bare. There is some lovely forest around about though, with cypress pine. Lots of friar birds. I think probably the best find was a pair of very mature rufous whistlers. The male in his beautiful white throated plumage the female strongly rufous with striated plumage on the neck and breast. The male doesn’t colour like that for years and the female also takes many years to colour up to that intensity. I wander along the tracks in a circle then drive down to collect mum from where she’s got to near the dam and we head back. Again there are same species of lizard on the roads. In this spot they must love the accumulated warmth in the sealed road. We park and walk over to them. The dragon closest too us is just SO not fussed by our presence. No puffing up from this guy, he just looks at us and figures we’ll just go away eventually.

I walk down the road to the second lizard and he dashes off into the leaf litter and sits very very still quickly changing colour to the exact shade of old leaves.

He’s off the road so we head on back to the first guy who clearly has no plan of going anywhere. I decide maybe it might be a better idea if he was a little more wary of people, so I pick him up. At first he’s not sure what he should do and he just stays still. Then he decides enough is enough and he want’s to go. I put him down and he takes off for a nearby paddock. He’s had a bit of a fright, but hopefully he’ll be quicker to move off next time. As we pull out in the car the other lizard down the road walks purposefully out on to the road and starts bobbing his head. We drive slowly past him, he just sits there. Well, I guess the locals must be pretty careful drivers and must like the lizards – we haven’t seen much in the way of lizard road kill. Only one in all our travels so far.