We were planning on moving on today, but we both slept late, so decided to stay on.
The wind had dropped, and the day was sunny. It was warm enough for Couey to be allowed another romp in the lake.
I will come back – reluctantly
I did a load of washing. Cost $3.
Mid-morning, two rigs moved in on one side of us. Pleasant to have some neighbours again.
Our site by the lake at Boort
I drove to the shops and did a small stock up at the supermarket – $49 worth.
For the rest of the day, we just lazed about. John spent some time on his laptop. I read. Took Couey for a walk along the lake front. She really wanted another swim and kept trying to pull away from me, but it was too late in the day for her to dry adequately before she would want to be back in Bus – and on MY bed! So, no water games.
That shag again – and some really authentic detail…
Tea was chicken and mushroom sausages, fries. John had an egg with his.
Not exactly a major relocation today – just up the road, really. Good thing, because it was hot and very humid.
Whilst we were getting ready to move on, John learned a major life lesson – do not put thumb where awning arms are going to close! I have no idea how he got said digit jammed, as he had not waited for me to help lower the awning. I do know that there is a huge amount of tension on those arms. I tried to lever it a bit open with a screwdriver, so he could pull thumb out, but had to go get a heavy tent peg and gradually work that down the little gap, whilst levering as well, until I’d enlarged the gap enough for him to get thumb out. He was in a lot of pain while I was doing this. The skin was broken, and he was bleeding. Bandaid applied. Lucky not to break it – or chop it off altogether. I wondered if anyone had ever managed to do that? Hope he learned the lesson to wait for me to help, in the future. Much easier with two people. And safer.
Was 10.15 when we left the park.
The driver felt fit enough to detour to Port Welshpool. From 1998 to 2002, a summer fast speed catamaran ferry operated from here to Tasmania. It was rather unfortunately named the Devil Cat and gained a reputation to match – for very rough trips and major sea sickness for passengers. That reputation probably, as much as its distance from Melbourne, accounted for its demise.
In Port Welshpool, there appeared to be a number of accommodation places that had been set up in the expectation of increased business from the ferry service, but were now languishing, with several for sale. Ditto houses.
We stopped and looked at the Long Jetty, as we came into the village. This was, as name suggested, a jetty that extended a long way out, to a deeper channel. It was the old jetty, in the days when this place was a thriving port. It was now closed, due to fire damage. One hoped it could be restored – a walk right out to its end would be rather lovely.
Port Welshpool
Next stop was the current jetty area – one that extends widthwise, rather than outwards. We walked around this – with dog very firmly on lead. Saw what used to be the ferry cat terminal, now closed off. There were some fishing boats moored, as well as recreational boats.
It was a pleasant little village, with a general store. It probably gets much busier in the summer holiday period, but would still be a comparatively quiet place for a break by the sea.
None of these Corner Inlet villages have any decent beach areas, due to the nature of the inlet.
Couey was very interested in the edge of the jetty and peering down at the sea below. I had a strong suspicion that had she been loose, there would have been a high dive into the water. For once, John didn’t suggest she be let loose!
Backtracked to where we had turned off the highway at Welshpool township, and continued on to Yarram though green farmland – dairy cow country in these parts. It was a pleasant drive, uneventful, apart from being passed by a speeding ambulance, sirens and lights going. As he came up behind us, John slowed and pulled right over to the side, so the ambulance did not have to slow at all – this section of road did not offer clear views for passing otherwise. We then noted, though, that the caravan ahead did not slow or pull over at all, and the ambulance got held up behind him for a few kms. What is it with some drivers that they must be so incredibly ignorant and selfish?
Had booked an en-suite site at the Yarram Rosebank Tourist park. $36 a night. We were able to drive through the site behind us, which made it much easier, then unhitch the car. Had to wait for our bathroom cleaning to be finished – it was only midday when we arrived.
M and C were pleased with their cabin. It was larger than the one at Toora had been.
The caravan park was based around what appeared to be an old restored homestead – rather intriguing from the outside. Reception was in part of that.
There was an under cover area for sitting around a fire pit, a good playground area, and we were told when checking in that we could give Couey a run on the grassy area at the front of the park. This is always a plus for us. Our bathroom was clean, with a big shower area. We were quite happy with it. Bushes to the sides made our site quite private.
After set up, we all went for a walk along the main street, admiring the several substantial old buildings. At a novelty shop, M bought some small water pistols, to use to deter Couey from jumping up on them at happy hours.
Back in the late nineteenth century, nearby Port Albert was the main port for these parts, in the days before railways and good roads. Yarram developed from the 1850’s and became the main service centre for the area. Today, it was an attractive small town, although the number of houses for sale suggested a declining population. Some of the houses for sale that we walked past, were beautiful looking old places, well kept up, on large blocks.
Walked the length of the shopping area and then back on the other side of the road. There was a fair range of shops in the town. Visited an art gallery, housed in the former court house – a solid, brick building. There was an exhibition of works in oils by a local artist; his urban scenes were not subject matter I liked, but he’d managed to make them appear almost three dimensional, so I admired the technique. I quite liked one painting of a Greek island village – but our walls at home were already too full!
The men were very strong willed today, and resisted the pull of the bakery, in favour of own-made lunches back at camp.
I found the walk rather hard. Lower back and shoulders were all hurting as I walked. Wondered if Couey’s pulling on the lead had somehow injured the shoulder and upper back. Didn’t realize it at the time, but this was the first manifestation of spinal problems that were to continue and slowly reduce my walking range over the next few years. Rather cruel, that.
On the way back, John called in at the sports complex, almost opposite the park, to find out about bowls – and booked himself in for a game on Saturday. Had I been asked, my preference would have been for doing some sightseeing!
The humidity was really draining, and after our late lunch we both had naps, with the air-con going in Bus. It was rare for me to feel like an afternoon nap! C had a sleep too, and M did crosswords.
It was cooling down by the time we met up again for happy hour.
Our tea was the lamb fillet I’d bought in Foster. Very nice and very tender.
During the afternoon I had phoned a friend who lives locally, left a message, and she called me back after they returned from a day out fishing for whiting. Years ago, we had all worked a couple of tourist seasons together, up north at the magical Adels Grove. So I was looking forward to catching up with J and D again. They had worked and visited there for periods, most years, and so were more up to date with the people and developments.
It was an uncomfortable night for sleeping – even a sheet was too much cover in the heat.
Up at 8.30 again. After seeing to dog with a walk around a large open area at the end of the park, followed by her breakfast, I drove to the Centro shops. Got papers, postcards and some food supplies.
This trip was going to be an exercise in fridge management, probably with frequent small re-stocks the norm. We would certainly see whether we could manage extended trips without the supplementary Chescold portable fridge that had travelled in the Landrover. Both of us now had bodies that could do without the lifting a heavy fridge in and out of the vehicle, every time we moved camp.
I had been making adjustments to the way I used the fridge, as we went. One of the two plastic containers I bought to go where there should be crisper drawers, now holds a night’s supply of beer and Zero cans for John – five or six all told. The other holds vegies – limited capacity here equals frequent shopping, especially as I like to eat salads most lunch times. John now had a small bottle of the tomato juice he liked to drink, instead of a two litre one. I had started to sometimes eat an orange for breakfast, instead of drinking juice. So far, so good……
The indulgence of a morning orange juice…..
John spent some morning time on his laptop. I read the papers I’d bought.
My step-daughter showed up after lunch, later than the mid morning we had expected. She brought her dog with her, who immediately tried to eat Couey, so had to be taken home again. Not going to be a friendship there.
Daughter really wanted us all to go out to Silverton, though we had been there lots of times before. We loaded her into the back seat of Terios, with difficulty – it really was not designed for a sizeable adult, and it seemed the seatbelt did not work – it wouldn’t stretch far enough. Couey liked having company in the back, though!
No problems parking in Silverton. As the name suggests, it was the site of a silver “rush” in the late 1800’s and quickly grew to a town large enough to have a rail connection and station. But the much richer finds in nearby Broken Hill caused people to leave, and it became an “almost” ghost town. A handful of people remained, some picturesque old buildings still stand, it became the base for a number of artists, and also some film making. So it continues to exist in all its quirky glory.
Part of Silverton’s commercial centre – Horizon Gallery and Beyond 39 Dips
First stop was at our favourite Horizon Gallery, though we were determined not to buy anything. We already had four works from there – and no more wall space at home. The artist Albert Woodroffe was there and we talked with him about his work, for a little while. God, it was tempting to buy! There was very little of his late wife’s works left there now; I do treasure the two of hers that we have.
Daughter spent ages browsing and talking in another shop, 39Dips, so called because there are that many of them between Broken Hill and Silverton. I found it a bit kitchy.
Abandoned again…..
Then we walked around the Silverton perimeter and Couey had an off lead run. She was not very good at being tied up outside shops while we all went in – that old separation anxiety.
Silverton
Had a beer each at the Silverton Hotel which, like the rest of the village, had changed little since our last visit.
Once used on the railway……
And so, back to Broken Hill. Daughter had invited us to tea, so we had to first go via the shops, so she could buy supplies to make us the roast dinner she planned. It was after 5pm by now, so it was clearly going to be a much later meal than we were used to. Deposited her at her place, then went back to Bus and relaxed for a while.
Back across town to daughter’s place at about 7.30pm. Left dog to sleep in Terios in the driveway, which she seemed to accept with no problems. On his own, we found the other dog quite a friendly, eager-to-please fellow, but he did need some consistent training. He was a strange mix of ancestry – beagle, red cattle dog and something else. Not long after we arrived, he peed on the carpet in the living room – then daughter realized that he’d been shut inside all day without relief. Poor dog!
We ate about 8.30pm. Obviously, daughter had gone to some effort to produce the roast lamb and vegies, which were very nice. She then told us she doesn’t eat meat much as she no longer likes the taste…..hmmm, not sure how we were meant to take that.
We went back to Bus about 10.30, watched tennis on TV for a while before bed.
In the morning, I drove up to the top shops, for the papers. The steep walk up the hill, which I’d done a few times during the week, just seemed a bit too challenging today.
John went off to bowls.
I read the papers, and walked along the cycle path to the inlet and back. Along the way, I was pondering the makeup of Tathra’s population – to what extent it was a holiday and retirement place for farmers from further inland, whether it was a bit of a dormitory village for workers from Bega and Merimbula, how many of its older inhabitants had come from further afield to settle here by the sea?
Cooked a roast chicken dinner in the electric frypan.
One of the nicest aspects about staying here was the background noise of the ocean.
This Adventurous Age 