Well hi folks, we’ve just spent the last four days in Melrose which is the oldest pioneer town in the whole of the Flinders, housing the oldest pub to boot! Camped as we have been, in front of a beautiful River Red Gum lined creek hugging the foothills of Mt Remarkable, you’d be forgiven for thinking that we’ve had a tranquil time here, interspersed with our usual amount of action and adventure. Sadly though, the snots and sneezes have seen fit to visit us, forcing us to abandon our plans for a mountain-bike ride and prematurely curb our walks to just two – not to mention forcing us to endure the unrelenting and head-spinning camp-noise, droppings and debris created by some 200 of our feathered friends and from whom the only escape and respite was the pub just yards down the road (“for medicinal purposes” Gordon reckoned!). Nevertheless, we still had a good time and so we hope you enjoy the blog where Caroline tries to find Zen; some gorges and forests make for some stunning walks; and where, due to popular demand from some of you readers (you know who you are!), the “toilet humour” makes a come-back! Happy Reading!
I am at peace, I am at peace, I am at – oh bugger it!
Ok, so I will quickly set the scene – namely, a very warm afternoon during which a beautifully mottled River Red Gum - just by standing there in all its magnificence - made a very convincing argument for me to do nothing at all and plonk myself under the generous shade of its bowers. The Barossa Valley, from where we had just travelled, had been an intensely stimulating time in all ways and I was keen to now just sit and “be”, more in my body and less in my head as they say. You see this whole trip for me is not just about the outer journey but the “inner journey” too and I wanted to spend time with myself in that way on this afternoon. There was a lovely breeze blowing, playfully rustling the leaves in the tree and I decided to focus on the gorgeous sound of that; the feel of it on my skin and any other sounds or noises that came into being –in short, to be completely “present” in my environment. No sooner had I begun, than a fly tried to get up my nose, another attempted to enter -and course- the canal of my ear and a third bravely attempted to crawl where no other pioneering fly has hitherto gone – namely up into the inside of the leg of my shorts and beyond (brave fly). But I remain focused. As if all that wasn’t enough, a sudden nasty stink of gone-off eggs wafts under my nose, coming from the dry-creek and obviously due to a subtle change of wind direction. All part of being in “the now”, I reason – and then noted that that in itself was a thought and so tried to bring my attention back to the sound of the leaves! And then, not two minutes later – they came. Two hundred or so Little Corellas (small white parrots), who flew in from God knows where, about an hour earlier than I reckoned they should have arrived! Now, those of you who have had the (questionable) pleasure of experiencing these little buggers en-masse will know the absolute cacophony they create – they are raucous, shrill, piercing and UNRELENTING with their squawking and squeaking! So there I am - eyes closed, trying to “be in the moment” and still and focused. And all around me the “surround sounds” I am focusing on are getting louder and louder until I feel like I am on the set of Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds” and starting to wonder if I should just leg it out of there like the central character tried to do! But I continue to try and be in the now – while all around me, these birds are chewing off huge tip-ends of branches with leaves intact, and hurling them down onto the ground, onto me and onto the roof of the tent.(I later found out they do this out of boredom - jeez!). It’s getting harder to stay focused and my patience is sorely tested but, I pride myself on still being “in the now”. However I am not as yet an enlightened Budda and so by the time I heard and felt the initial two wet splats on my shin and arm as those bloody buggers shat and peed on me, I was over it all! Bloody “Zen”??? If I’d had a rifle it would’ve been bloody BANG!
Spectacular gorges and forests – a welcome respite from the heat!
Once again we have managed to have two places completely to ourselves – I am beginning to wonder if we just smell or whether our angels are looking down on us. Either way, there is truly nothing better than being out amongst it with no other noise or interference from anyone else!
Alligator gorge provided us with a stunning walk amongst towering red quartzite rock that was truly breathtaking. The formation of the gorge – caused by faults and then erosion - happened over 50-60million years ago but from a landscape that is actually over 800million years old, which for me is truly mind-boggling! There were numerous and very steep steps to get down into the gorge itself, where we then clambered our way over its rocky floor for the next 90minutes, following the cold walls as they pointed the way. Slabs of light from a deep blue sky illuminated brilliant rock faces and offset the shadows to reveal dizzyingly high rocky outcrops, some even complete with a tree on top! Now and then we would disturb some Euros (a kind of kangaroo), who would then bounce away quicker than you could point your camera! However the real highlight of the walk was indisputably “The Narrows” - a canyon where the walls come together within just 2m of each other. A continuous incline was the only exit out of the gorge, so all in all, a great way to spend the morning and be active!
Next up was a very lovely trail that followed Ippinitichie Creek to the Old Nursery in Wirrabara Forest – more than 60 different exotic forest trees that were planted back in 1877 to see which ones would be good for commercial forestry in South Australia. We weren’t expecting to see a forest walk this far north of Adelaide, but what a very pleasant walk it was and good for the soul, as they say. We had birdsong to follow us and the restful rustle of breeze through the trees. Not too far into the walk, bright green-leafed elms, ashes and willows allowed for a beautiful dappling of sunlight to scatter onto soft, long green grass in a wonderful corner that felt like a little bit of rural England. The trail then gave way to the deep scents of eucalypts that just made you want to breathe in deeply, which we were pleased to note, did much to clear our nasal passages! Just a little further on we came upon a slight clearing where gorgeous peachy-hued and silver-white lemon-scented gums stood tall and proud, their gloriously silky-smooth barks providing a stunning contrast of colour as they towered up into the cloudless bright blue sky. As the walk progressed we came across all manner of fantastic barks – some mottled, striped or speckled, others like 3-D mosaic – with colours ranging from sage greens, pale browns and soft grays, to burnt ambers and dark fruitcake-browns. Often there was the sheer delight of finding big, impressive shards of auburn bark, shed by the trees and now strewn on the ground for our stomping pleasure – think walking on autumnal leaves but multiple the satisfyingly crispy, crunching and cracking noises a thousand-fold! Towards the end of the trail though our feet found themselves on a thick, soft and spongy carpet of brown, bone dry needles, long dropped from their hosts and replete with a beautiful sprinkling of pinecones to boot, that provided a pretty palette of soft pinky-browns, dull yellows and soft grays, while a lush aroma of warm resin wafted around us on the breeze. Well, there’s no doubt about it – me and forests are a match made in heaven and this walk was definitely one of the better ones!
Back by popular demand – more “toilet humour”The one thing I have found in the 8 or 9 weeks we have been travelling, is that toilet humour is never too far away from you! Just this morning, I was happily minding my own business in the shower, enjoying the pounding jet of hot water on my neck, when my ears were assaulted (and my serenity shattered) by what Gordon has best described as a “flabby-assed fart”, from the toilet cubicle nearby. My God it let rip and not without a degree of vibration I might add – to be then followed by a sigh from the owner who had let it loose! A few minutes later as I was at the sink, that fart’s owner came to stand next to me and had the nerve to say “Oooh, it’s just too early isn’t it?”, to which I smiled sweetly but inwardly thought “yes it IS far too early - to have to listen to farts like yours!” Jeeeesus!
But I digress - because I wanted to share a short musing on people with en-suite caravans at campsites. Now, there was a time when I had thought how brilliant it must be to have en-suite in your caravan. After all, for us “canvas” people, it would mean an end to the middle-of-the-night-fiasco that begins with the horrible realization you need the loo, involves having to climb down your ladder, get dressed and culminates in a walk across to the amenities block to do the deed – by which time you are now wide-awake. But I have come to realize, those en-suites of theirs do have a “dark side” payback - where all that so-called “convenience” simply leads to some rather unpleasant “inconvenience” later on. Allow me to introduce: “The Shit Box”. On any given day in a campsite, you get to spot at least one person trundling along to the dump-point, with their Shit Box in tow. Now for those of you less in the know - Shit Boxes come in all different shapes and sizes and their modes of transport to a dump-point seem to vary too – for example some are carried (lovingly? proudly?) in the arms of their owners whilst others are on wheels and being pulled behind their host, as if it were a carry-on bag at an airport! After having had the misfortune to inadvertently pass a woman once as she was at a dump-point slopping out her box (the contents of which seriously made me heave and must have been festering for weeks on end judging by the foul couldn’t-have-come-from-a-human smell), I simply cannot comprehend how these people can practically whistle as they trundle down the road with the offending article in tow! We reckon their whistling is as if to say “if I don’t acknowledge what I am carrying or that I am carrying it, then you can’t see that I am carrying it’! “ Believe it or not, I have even had someone waving to me WITH THE ACTUAL HAND THAT WAS CARRYING THE SHIT BOX, making me want to instinctively duck for cover, in case the box of slurry was not properly sealed! The funniest people of all though are the ones who smile at you, say “Lovely day isn’t it” and look as if they are going to come over and talk to you. For these, I just give a quick nod, smile and quicken my pace or fly into my tent, as if to say “Do NOT engage in conversation with me and do NOT pretend that you are not carrying your own, disgusting smelly poo”. OK, yes, fair enough - I may be overly squeamish and prissy about all of this…….after all, we all poo and pee. But as Gordon so simply reasoned: “Jeez, why can’t these people just go to the main toilet and shit and piss down there?????????!”
Well, that’s all folks – we hope we made you laugh and that you enjoyed reading some more of our adventures on the road!
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