The tour
24th April 2010 – Sydney to Gundagai
We took off early at 4:30 am driving as fast but efficiently as possible. We chose a car to 'befriend' and help manage our speed and minimize our risk of getting caught accidentally speeding on this long weekend of double demirits. First stop was the famous Gundagai. We stopped briefly 5 miles out of town to discover for ourselves the legendary 'dog on a tuckerbox'. It had begun to rain, but the drops on our hair and in our eyes couldn't diminish the atmosphere of that occasion. Or perhaps it was just that we were on holidays again.
It was just a small statue of a dog on a tuckerbox next to a still sleeping (at 8am) souvinir store, but somehow in the rain, next to the ruins of the old 'Australian Arms Hotel' and there amongst the trees of several continents, it was just nice. It was early, the air was fresh, and the taste of rain on my lips refreshing. We then moved on to find the actual town. The town was as expected. A fairly small one main-street, sleepy town, but despite the already up and roaming menace of the local police traffic patrol, the towns historical artifacts left me with a good impression of the town. We first came across the old wooden bridge and Via Duct. No longer safe for passage and falling to rubble, the bridge was impressive in its length and design. Also amazing, considering the now terrible state of the bridge is that it was until fairly recently the way through from Sydney to Melbourne. The Via Duct with its long wooden pillar legs stretched out into the distance. And it is with great pleasure that I read that there are plans to repair it and open it to the tourist industry. It would be a shame to simply let it slowly rot back into the flood-plain it spans.
Before leaving the town we popped around the corner to see the old railway station. The trains don't come through here anymore, which I find a bit of a shame. But the railway station, up-kept by the local living there, is looking as crisp and clean as any station I've seen in a long time.
Gundagai to Wagga Wagga
After Gundagai and a quick stop at the south Gundagai MacDonalds for a cup of chai-tea, we continued on to Wagga Wagga. Wagga reminded me of Wollongong a bit, in a not so impressive way. Wollongong without the beaches. Ah but wait! There is a beach! Or at least, that is what the locals call the muddy banks of the Murrumbidgee.
We stopped in at the tourist centre where we were told most of the sites to see around here were in another town to the north. Well, we were either going south or west from here, so we decided to say a quick goodbye to old Wagga Wagga and move on. Luckily in the tourist centre we came across a guide of the 'roundhouse' at Murray Bridge. He had lots of interesting information about the Murray river, its towns and the paddle-steamers that travel its long and winding path to and from Adelaide. He and his wife recommended Echuca on the Murray as a nice town, not quite as far away as South Australia. So we took their advice and started off on the 360 odd km drive from Wagga to Echuca.
Wagga Wagga to Echuca
Our spirits were down on that leg of the journey.
So far no reason of interest to stop at any town along the way, and now it was raining hard. Was this what our holiday would become? A long and tedious journey through bad weather?
After Gundagai and a quick stop at the south Gundagai MacDonalds for a cup of chai-tea, we continued on to Wagga Wagga. Wagga reminded me of Wollongong a bit, in a not so impressive way. Wollongong without the beaches. Ah but wait! There is a beach! Or at least, that is what the locals call the muddy banks of the Murrumbidgee.
We stopped in at the tourist centre where we were told most of the sites to see around here were in another town to the north. Well, we were either going south or west from here, so we decided to say a quick goodbye to old Wagga Wagga and move on. Luckily in the tourist centre we came across a guide of the 'roundhouse' at Murray Bridge. He had lots of interesting information about the Murray river, its towns and the paddle-steamers that travel its long and winding path to and from Adelaide. He and his wife recommended Echuca on the Murray as a nice town, not quite as far away as South Australia. So we took their advice and started off on the 360 odd km drive from Wagga to Echuca.Wagga Wagga to Echuca
Our spirits were down on that leg of the journey.
So far no reason of interest to stop at any town along the way, and now it was raining hard. Was this what our holiday would become? A long and tedious journey through bad weather? However, as we neared the great river the skies began to clear, the rain stop, and the clouds part to admit the sun for the first time that day. And soon after we crossed the Murray river into Echuca and Victoria. Here we decided to camp at a caravan park called 'riversiders caravan park' 
run by an Australian originally from Germany who wished she'd learned her parents tongue. For only $22 a night we get a grassy spot with access to toilets, showers and BBQ. After refreshing ourselves we heated up a soup for dinner and got ready for bed. It had been a long day and Martina was as usual, once the sun goes down, already drowsy. Only 8pm, she drifted off to sleep as I entered my days notes and read some of my book 'My Life' by Fidel Castro. I hoped to sleep soon as easy as had Martina. We would see!
run by an Australian originally from Germany who wished she'd learned her parents tongue. For only $22 a night we get a grassy spot with access to toilets, showers and BBQ. After refreshing ourselves we heated up a soup for dinner and got ready for bed. It had been a long day and Martina was as usual, once the sun goes down, already drowsy. Only 8pm, she drifted off to sleep as I entered my days notes and read some of my book 'My Life' by Fidel Castro. I hoped to sleep soon as easy as had Martina. We would see!25th April 2010 – Echuca
We had slept easily that night after a day made weary by an early morning rise and over 800km of travel, but by 7:30am were were ready to get up. It had rained a little overnight as I had lay there drifting to sleep and the dew had fallen making the grass glisten wetly in the morning sun. Lookup upward revealed a cloudless blue sky. It was going to be a really nice day. But for now there was a chill in the air. Despite this I decided to go fro a swim in the caravan park pool, and somehow convinced Martina to join me. The water was arm and steamy in the cool morning air, and was a good start to the day. After an even warmer shower and a quick breakfast we took off again in the car towards town leaving our tent to await our return later that day. We crossed fingers and hoped for the honesty of our fellow campers that our tent would still be there when we got back.
We had slept easily that night after a day made weary by an early morning rise and over 800km of travel, but by 7:30am were were ready to get up. It had rained a little overnight as I had lay there drifting to sleep and the dew had fallen making the grass glisten wetly in the morning sun. Lookup upward revealed a cloudless blue sky. It was going to be a really nice day. But for now there was a chill in the air. Despite this I decided to go fro a swim in the caravan park pool, and somehow convinced Martina to join me. The water was arm and steamy in the cool morning air, and was a good start to the day. After an even warmer shower and a quick breakfast we took off again in the car towards town leaving our tent to await our return later that day. We crossed fingers and hoped for the honesty of our fellow campers that our tent would still be there when we got back.
Echuca on a sunny Sunday morning was a bustle of tourists buying tickets for paddlesteamer rides, and we did just that ourselves. We had a ride on the P.S Alexander Arbuthnot, the last padedlesteamerbuild for riverboat trade on the Murray. It was a pleasant ride up the river lined with tall gum trees on both sides. Some of the trees were lucky to be still as earlier floods had washed away most of the soil from their root system and stood there tip toeing with their spread-bare roots, and will do so until the next big flood comes maybe to finish them off. When the ride was done, a guide showed us around what was left of the once ¾ mile wharf.
Now only about 100m long, it still looks impressive standing high above the current river level. The guide kept a parrot, like a caracature of a pirate, on his shoulder, and pleased the crowd with funny tricks, such as having the bird play dead at the suggestion that collingwood might win a football (read 'Aussie Rules') championship. Besides the bird tricks, the guide knew much of the history of the town and imparted his knowledge as fast and humerous as he could manage. The rest of the day was spent looking around town and eating. I also went a little holiday crazy and bought a rather expensive oak barrel filled with port wine.26th April 2010 – Echuca to Mildura
The next morning we packed up the tent and left the caravan park for Mildura. But that trip would take many hours of driving over around 372km of country road. We stopped not far on the way at the 'Pioneer settlement park' at Swan Hill, a re-creation of a town that could have existed back in the days when the land was just being settled along the Murray.
Continuing on took us driving past many estates of olive groves and orange orchades. It also took us through a plague of lucusts hundreds of kilometers wide. By the time we got to Mildura the car was caked with grasshopper guts with heads, legs and dismembered wings stuck to the windscreen and wipers like the recreation of a great medieval battle on an insect scale, all played out on our car. Extracting the parts from the wipers was not a joysome task, and cleaning the rest up later would not be fun. We anticipated though that as we travel further west we would see fewer of these locusts. 
We finally got to Mildura and stopped at the 'Riverbeach camping ground' just out of Mildura town. It was a lovely bushy place right on the river, surrounded by red gum trees. I insisted for these two nights coming on having a bit of luxury, so we stayed in one of their self contained 'Villa's with shower bathroom, kitchen, and proper double bed. To make full use of it we bought a gourmet pie and potatoes for a semi-proper, and reasonably cheap, dinner, with apricot crumble for dessert.
27th April 2010 - Mildura
Didn't do much today; Checked out the town and the old 'homestead' recreation. We also watched the weir at lock II open up to let a house-boat through. It was interesting to watch the water level in the lock bubble up to upstream levels. It would be a nice idea to navigate a houseboat up the Murray, and we might just do that one day.
We then later drove into town and looked around, settling on a pie for lunch. We picked it up from 'Banjo's. Not bad! Not the best, but better than many we would have on this trip. Banjo's was on the main strip just up from Hudaks bakery/cafe, which in our opinion, while looking ok, didn't look quite as nice. Choice was generally good in Mildura. After lunch we drove out to Red Cliffs. The river looks wonderful out there as it snakes around the red clay cliffs. However, all the power lines and towers running along side uglify it quite a bit. Poor development planning on the part of the local council. 
They should all be shot (like most councils). And it is a great tradgedy that they celebrate in their history the use of the great iron monster called 'Big Lizzy' which chopped down so many of the beautiful red-gums which used to line the river here. Perhaps at the time it was necessary, with no alternative. It it still nothing to celebrate or be glad about considering what a mess we have made of parts of this country.
28th April 2010 – Mungo National Park
We woke up lazily this wednesday morning and punched in 'Mungo National Park' into the GPS; which told us that we'd arrive 10 hours later at aroudn 7pm. Rubbish! We were only 110km away. We started driving and soon enough the stupid TomTom was knokcking hours off the ETA. It was a short trip of bitumin followed by a longer stretch of dirt road. It wasn't so bad going though, an donly occasionally would we come across a patch of corrogation. My hyundai Sonata was taking on the Australian outback so far without major problems. We were able to maintain an average speed of around 85km/h even in a soft city car like was mine. We passed the last farms in the district, a crazy thought seeing how scrubby and dry the earth was here (Farmers in my opinion do not belong here). Soon we reached the park. It was not what I expected. Far more vegetation. No desert. It was dry, yes, but far from barren.
27th April 2010 - Mildura
Didn't do much today; Checked out the town and the old 'homestead' recreation. We also watched the weir at lock II open up to let a house-boat through. It was interesting to watch the water level in the lock bubble up to upstream levels. It would be a nice idea to navigate a houseboat up the Murray, and we might just do that one day.
We then later drove into town and looked around, settling on a pie for lunch. We picked it up from 'Banjo's. Not bad! Not the best, but better than many we would have on this trip. Banjo's was on the main strip just up from Hudaks bakery/cafe, which in our opinion, while looking ok, didn't look quite as nice. Choice was generally good in Mildura. After lunch we drove out to Red Cliffs. The river looks wonderful out there as it snakes around the red clay cliffs. However, all the power lines and towers running along side uglify it quite a bit. Poor development planning on the part of the local council. 
They should all be shot (like most councils). And it is a great tradgedy that they celebrate in their history the use of the great iron monster called 'Big Lizzy' which chopped down so many of the beautiful red-gums which used to line the river here. Perhaps at the time it was necessary, with no alternative. It it still nothing to celebrate or be glad about considering what a mess we have made of parts of this country.28th April 2010 – Mungo National Park
We woke up lazily this wednesday morning and punched in 'Mungo National Park' into the GPS; which told us that we'd arrive 10 hours later at aroudn 7pm. Rubbish! We were only 110km away. We started driving and soon enough the stupid TomTom was knokcking hours off the ETA. It was a short trip of bitumin followed by a longer stretch of dirt road. It wasn't so bad going though, an donly occasionally would we come across a patch of corrogation. My hyundai Sonata was taking on the Australian outback so far without major problems. We were able to maintain an average speed of around 85km/h even in a soft city car like was mine. We passed the last farms in the district, a crazy thought seeing how scrubby and dry the earth was here (Farmers in my opinion do not belong here). Soon we reached the park. It was not what I expected. Far more vegetation. No desert. It was dry, yes, but far from barren.
Cracked earth at Mungo
Where ever this famous lunar like landscape was, it was obviously not the general case. We found ourselves there earlier than expected – due to our easy run – and after seeing and reading what the tourist office had to offer, we took off once more on the 75km round trip through the park.
One of the firset sights was already the famous so called 'Walls of China'. But the colours were just not right. The sun was high in the sky and everything was just too bright.
We decided that we would have to come back to this bit again closer to sunset when the sun was softer. The rest of the round trip took us past more eroded landscapes and ruined woolsheds from the old glory days of the sheep-sheering industry.
Much of the area was actually the bed of an ancient lake long since dried up and now covered in scrub. Kangaroos roamed the area looking for tasty greenery, and we saw several on the 2nd half of our trip.
We climbed the peak of a huge sand dune where the wind had carved beautiful wavy lines into the sand.
Making our way back we quickly pitched the tent and as the sun began to finally sink towards the horizon, took off one last time towards the 'Walls of China'.
This time the colours were perfect. It is amazing what a difference time-of-day makes. We spent a happy half an hour trying to snap even a small part of how this place was looking like with our hugely inadequate cameras. If only we could take a photo through our own eyes!
The sun eventually sank below the trees, and we went back to camp to dine on campbells soups.
29th of April 2010 - To Broken Hill
Today was another day spent mostly driving. From Mungo NP we got up and left without breakfast and drove over a couple hundred km dirt road to the lakes of menindee in Kinchega National Park. These are lakes now fed by the Darling river, controlled by weirs and outlets in order to provide water for irigation and Broken Hill's own water supply. We looked around, took a few photos, had lunch and moved on towards Broken Hill itself. Reaching the town we were still undecided as to where we wanted to stay. We popped our head into the YHA tourist accomodation to see a rather large man snorring behind the counter. The hostel/motel looked a bit run down, and I was put off by it all. We moved on down to the 'Lake view' caravan park and stayed the night in a cabin, with the intentions of camping the next couple nights after that. We decided to eat out that night, and eventually followed the locals into 'the Demo' club on Argent street where I had a huge slice of roast beef and plate of chips and as much vegies and salad as I could fit in my belly. Martina had the battered fish. We both went back to the caravan park uncomfortably full.
Silverton way - 30th April 2010
Today we did the silverton direction, starting at the 'Daydream mine' off the highway to silverton along a winding dirt road. We passed through several closed gates which we had to open and close after we rolled through. We knoew we must be close as we passed an old ore smelter on a hill on the right, and as we passed around one more bend we were there. There wasn't much to see from the surface. Some discarded iron tools, an old shed and the cottage from which we were to sign up for the tour. The underground tunnels would be where the interesting stuff was. It was no gian open-cut mine, but a mine of narrow tunnels borrowed out by pick and hammer and black powder. A huge amount of toil and effort by men who would die in their 40's, expended by their work in the harsh conditions, dug tunnels kilometers long under the hill, all for a glittery substance called silver. We would be taken down an old shaft and shown around by our guide whos accent marked him as 'aussie true and through' in the old sense, in a way that, I understand now, I never was. After the mining tour we continued along the same road towards silverton. Publicised as a ghost town, we found it not quite to be so. More like a town that had had a boom, but then the excitement moved elsewhere to leave this town as alive as many small towns in the outback. We spoke to a lady that had lived there as a child, schooled there along with 30 other children only to move on in her 20's, and now come back, build a new house and renovate the old church. I would call it an old town with a grand and interesting history much larger than its present. But it is not a ghost town. As the sun dipped down and we finished our damper and Quandong pie at the little old cafe, we took off quickly west to view the local dam, Umberumberka, which only a few months earlier had received so much rain that it had overflowed and flooded the town! It hadn't been like that for a very long time that we had to see it. A race back to town for sunset saw us reaching the cafe up on top of the Broken Hill mines just after the sun disappeared under the hills. The town was still visible down below and the sky was soft pinks and blues. But the town below, for all its interesting past, is not a pretty one. So we took off once more back to the caravan park to pitch our tent.
1st of May 2010
I woke up after uninterrupted sleep to an already high sun. 7:30 had come and it was time for a shower. We went shopping early and going to the Broken Hill 'Centro' took in a couple of sights on the way. There are remnants of their mining past strewn all over town; in parks, on corners, on the high ruins of the original hill. We grabbed some things from the shops and headed to the nearest park where we had our breakfast; More monuments and mining structures were to be found here. After breakfast we headed up to the 'Broken earth cafe' no the top of the 'Broken Hill'. Now bright and sunny the whole town could be seen below. The cafe is also a sort of a museum with a monument to the miners who had died working the mines around the side of the cafe. For $3 a piece you could go and read about all the horrible ways in which people died trying to extract the minerals from this hill. We had the whole day to fill, so after the cafe we decided to slowly explore town once more. It was getting quite hot, like a mid-summers-day in Sydney, it was hard to be in the open for too long such was the heat. I can't imagine living here through the summer, here, with no beach nearby to cool off at, when it is going into winter now and still almost unbearable. At least there is no humidity along with it. Later on in the day we explored the site of a stand-off between two turkish sympathizers and the Broken Hill police which occurred during World-War I. The pakistani, of course, lost out in this lost cause. Though, with the lives lost more precious than the cause being faught over, aren't all wars lost-causes for all involved? Nearing 3pm we decided to explore the walk out by the rock sculptures It would take a couple of hours and we wanted to be finishing up to reach the sculptures themselves around sundown for maximum effect when the light would be best, and the view most impressive. The walk was interesting and took us through scriub containing many species of plant, though not the evasive Quandong which we had wanted to find. We even saw the odd Kangaroo. Eventually the sun was slipping faster and faster towards the horizon, and we hurried up the last hill only to find the sculptures difficult to spot in the mess of tourists who had come in on busses. Getting a good shot of the rock carvings and sculptures was almost impossible without snapping 3 or 4 other people trying to do the same thing. It was hard not to feel indignant. After all, we had walked all the distance to get here, and all they had done was shit their arses on a bus seat and get deposited there by the driver. Still, eventually the good man honked his horn, and the sheep obediently re-entered their penn to be driven away, and we were left with the minimum of light needed to make a shot work. Martina was happy enough. It meant there was no need for a pre-dawn hike up the next morning! Satisfied, we took off back to town and ended the day in the local chinese noodle shop. Shower and bed followed no t long after as there seemed nothing else in Broken Hill to do of a night!
Wutawintji National Park - 2nd of May 2010
We left Broken Hill for the Wutawintji National Park. We were to spend one night there in between getting to White Cliffs. It was a relatively short drive over dirt road to the park, and getting there early we decided to immediately do one of the gorge walks available. We started off crossing a dry creek into a field of scrub. It took a couple hours to get to the gorge which held only still brackish water. While having any water in this area is an achievment, it was not an impressive amount. However the colours of the rock were strickingly red and with such blue sky it was still a beautiful sight. Having finished that walk we drove from there to the other end of the park. We passed the remains of an old pub from the pioneeer days, and had lunch in what little shade we could find in what was feeling like a 35 degree (Celcius) day. Not bad for mid Autumn. We decided then we would try to find the so-called 'split rock'. There were no signs and the only direction we had for it was in the brochure for the park which stated that it was 3km east of where we stood. I had a compass with me so we worked out if we followed the fire-trail out we might just find it. We didn't really know what we were looking for though, and after several kilometers through the heat, spying what may or may not be the 'Split Rock' we decided we had had enough and headed back to the car. On the way back I walked into another dry creek going in the same direction, thinking it was at least better shaded than the fire-trail. The going was tough though through the loose dry sand, and I had just decided to quit the creek when I heard a chirping; a sort of desperate call for help. I looked ahead to see something floundering in the sand. It was a baby bird fallen from the best. Not really thinking I picked it up and brushed the ants from its back. I was immediately intent on saving this little innocent life. I called over to Martina now further ahead than me, and we inspected the bird together as I held it in my t-shirt. I had no idea what to do with it. In hindsight I should have tried to return it to the nest, but it didn't occur to me. Maybe unfortunately for that chick. Or perhaps it would not have made any difference to how things turned out. I figured having been in the dry sand it might want some water. I filled my water bottle-cap up with water and tried to get it to drink, but it didn't. I figured it would at least like a bath, so I dribbled some cool water and cradled it in my now wet t-shirt. We then took it with us and drove to the visitors centre in order to call for help. Wires only serviced the Sydney area, and they kindly put me through to the RCPCA. The man I spoke to gave me instructions towards keeping it alive.
1.It won't drink water, don't try, you will drown it (whoops, already tried that)
2.Keep it warm (whoops! Now to mention it, it does look like it is shivering...)
3.Don't feed it until tomorrow; give it mushed up Weet-Bix (ok, that I can do).
We stuck it in a plastic lid padded with toilet paper to keep it warm and kept it in the warm car until it was time to go to bed. We had dinner with a few fellow campers; a mixed couple from Sweden and Malta, and Bob, a real traveller going through many of the same places we had. Bob was kind enough to invite us to eat with him and share his lamb-chops and potatoes. A kindly meal in comparision to our usual and awaiting canned soup (we are very lazy campers). Come bed time we all said goodnight and I moved the again chirping (and not so shivering) bird into the tent with us to help keep it warm.
3rd of May 2010
It was early morning, 3am. I was anxious for the bird. Was it making a noise? Was it dead? Was it alive? I took a look. It had been moving since I last left it. And maybe at that point I woke it up again for it started chirping again. Calling, I suppose, for its mother. There was just me. And I still had no clue about how to take care of a baby bird. I tried to go back to sleep but the bird continued to chirp and click in a disturbing way. I figured it must be hungry. 'Surely I don't have to wait any longer to feed it' I thought. The chirping had woken Martina now too, and when she asked 'Is it feeding time' It made up my mind to get the Weet-Bix. After mashing up the cereal with water I then attempted to feed it to the bird. No reaction. Just now a strange bird whimper. It wouldn't open its beak to eat, and I didn't know what to do. I was beaten. Maybe it was just the wrong time to feed it. And whats more, I suddenly noticed a few tiny lice like insects crawling over my hand. I supposed it had come from handling the bird. I started to become concerned. I did not want lice. I decided to move the bird back to the car. Sitting in the car with the bird I squatted something on my shoulder. Another lice! God! 'I am becoming infested!' I thought. I wondered what I could do to counter this bodily invasion. The best idea I could come up with was to take a shower and perform a vigorous scrubbing. I grabbed a fresh change of clothes, shampoo, and headed off over the odd 150 metres through the dark camp-site and squeaky gate to the showers startling a kangaroo along the way. There were no lights in the showers but I had taken with me our new battery powered fluorescent lamp. I started the shower, waited for the water to warm, and stepped in. I scrubbed myself thoroughly in the shower with door open. It is strange alone there at night, stars still in the sky. It could have felt spooky there in the dark. But as I stook under the warm water, a beautiful green frog lazily hopped across the bathroom floor and it became more of a spiritual experience. A sort of getting close to nature. I began to enjoy my morning shower. It was now starting to get light. And having eventually finished my shower, I realized one important thing that I had forgotten. My towel was still 150 metres away, locked up in the car. 'Bugger' I thought. 'What am I to do?'. I didn't want to just put my clothes on, I was all wet. There was only one thing I could do. Only one option that made sense. No one was up, and no one saw me make that 150 metre dash naked through the camp-site with nothing but my Keen sandals on my feet and the lamp behind my bum. I made it back to the car without detection, grabbed my towel and headed back to the showers where I could dry myself and dress. After the run, despite the cool of the morning, I was feeling very warm. I was feeling good.
Making it back to the car again, dressed this time, I realized that not all was good. The bird made no sound. The bird did not move. The bird was dead. I sadly removed it from the car and laid him out in the bush for nature to take back its own. I had tried. Not a very good try, but I had tried. By this time, after all the noise of me running to and fro, closing and opening car doors, Martina was awake and getting up. I told her of the bird news.
Later on as Bob got up, we organised a walk together. The loop walk. It was early still and an ideal time to do it before it got too hot. We drove to the track-head and started off over gorge and through gully. It was a lovely walk full of colours and shapes that stirred the imagination. It ended up longer than expected; a good 12 kilometers or so, and the day got very hot. But despite finishing it very tired, it was a satisfying completion to a very memorable time in Wutawintji National Park.
The day was, however, not yet over for us. We were booked into P.J's Underground B&B for that night, and needed to drive still 130km over awful dirt road to get there. The road was indeed one of the worst yet with sections of corrogation, pot holes, and dozens of those damn 'dip' sections where water can flow when it rains enough. Instead of engineering proper drainage that can handle a bit of a flow, they just dip the road so that when it does flow it hopefully doesn't take that section of road with it.
White Cliffs is a small town. It consists of a pub and a general store, a primary school, and a hill or two where the opals are mined. Our lodging, P.J's B&B was in one of those hills. What used to be someones small opal mine tunnelled out with pick and shovel had been sold to Pete, who had transformed the original mine into a home and extended the mine further with todays technologies. The mine was now a maze of hundreds of metres of tunnels; all someones opal search hobby. Pete was apparently with the NSW National Parks. This mine was only a side interest. But they had made a beautiful job on the 'home' part of the mine. And now one can spend the night here in perfect comfort, at a constant temperature of around 22 degrees Celcius. The only problem is when you wake up in the morning you have no idea what time it is. No natural lighting to help your body clock start 'day-time'. It would take us some minutes the next morning to wake up properly. But for the moment it was still night time, and we were getting hungry, and after a quick tour of the mine we decided to go and get some dinner. Before we got far we were invited by some fellow guests to steak and salad. It was a lovely grouip of 6 older guys and gals. They were extremely friendly and talkative. We ate well and had an enjoyable night with laughs and great conversation.
The Barrier Hwy and north to coonabarabran- 4th May 2010
Before leaving White Cliffs we made a quick car tour around the opal fields; an area resembling a patch of giant ant hills, where men have made shafts down into the earth in an attempt to win their fortunes. Leaving town we got on the road to Willcania and settled in for the ride. Willcania was once a hub of the west, a major inland port town second only to Echuca. Nowadays the dusty shambles is only a faint shadow of its past industriousness and activity. Here the indigenous population seem to roam the streets, some drinking, the children are not in school, I do not believe they are on holiday. Here I get the impression that if the government cared more about these people, more would be done. It is sad. We stayed only long enough to fill our cars petrol tank at the impressive price of $1.60 a litre, and view the Darling river flowing strong and full under the bridge thanks to recent rains to the north which have helped make the area so much greener than it usually is.
Our next stop was Cobar. A vast contrast to its neighbour to the west, Cobar is a lively, tidy, and rich town. The person I spoke to in the information office was friendly and full of interesting information, and the price of petrol already 25 cents per litre cheaper. Before leaving this town we had to see the open-cut gold mine. Though not a big fan of mining, less so of open cut mining for the environmental damage often involved, they are still a very impressive sight. I have seen larger, but this was still awe inspiring, especially considering what we could see in this case was only a small portion of the depths to which their mine reached. At the bottom of this pit is a tunnel. The tunnel winds down around like a cork screw to a further 750 metres below the surface.
Time to drive further. The day was getting on and we still had not eated much. Our path was now turning off the barrier highway to travel north est towards coonabarabran. Our aim; the Warambungles. Our turn off was at the small but honest town Nyngan. First stop, pie shop. The bakery was just about to shut-up shop for the day, and when I couldn't make up my mind between a pasty or cheese and bacon pie, she gave me both for the single price. We thanked her gratefully and sat across the road on a bench to eat. Next, I wanted a wide brimmed hat for walking. Something that would protected my neck from the sun. We found such a shop on the main street just up from the bakery. Some very friendly people showed me how to fit one and I walked out happier, but much poorer; the proud owner of an Acubra. Time to really get a move on. The final leg of our days journey, Nyngan to coonabarabran. It was now dark. Following half a dozen speeding trucks we finally made it, and were eating a huge chicken schnitzel with chips and salad at the Imperial Hotel. The pepper sauce had to be the tastiest I'd ever had. For only $9 too. We went up to our room full having shared the single meal.
The Warrumbungles - 5th of May 2010
We work up early, checked out and went searching for something for breakfast. The girl who had served us last night at the pup served us this morning at the bakery, a tasty slice of banana bread. It had started off a bit cloudy, but as we neared the mountains the mist and cloud got thicker and darker. It looked like rain. Reaching the information centre we went in to do some reading about the formations we would see if it weren't so cloudy. We had to decide eventually or it would be too late to do any good walking. I convinced Martina of this and then we paid our camping fee and took off to the camping site.
We put up tent then and there in case it was to be dark when we returned from our walk, and then continued on to the start of the track. By the time we got to the beginning of the trail luckily the clouds had blown away, and there was only blue sky to see. We had definitely made the correct decision. It was going to be a great day. And it was. Many amazing panoramic views were to be seen, and to top it off, wild-life as well. Normally shy Kangaroos roamed around and later when we were to make it back to camp we saw even a couple of Emus. The track was super easy with almost wheelchair access half the way, and fantastic iron and timber steps all the way up to the top. Back at camp we watched the sunset over those impressive volcanic remnants called the Warrumbungles. With such clear skies it was going to be a cold fresh night, but lovely anyway.
The next day, after a short drive, we arrived in Dubbo. We took the tiem to look for a good meat pie. We eventually found the 'Village bakery and Cafe' which boasts the best pies in Australia (or was it the world). Unfortunately a baseless claim. Either they have not had a good pie themselves (World's worst pies, Kangaroo Valley; Bulli Butcher shop, corner of the princess highway & Park Rd) or they just hope to make locals, who have not tried better, feel ok about paying over $4 for a pie that is really only 'Michelle's' quality. In anycase it was filling enough for breakfast, and finishing up we felt ready to takle a day at Dubbo Zoo. The Western Plains Zoo had sparked the hope in my mind of a better zoo; of a zoo with more space for the animals, not just being a gaol for wild animals given nothing more to live for than the next feed, and no room for stretching their powerful muscles. My hopes were dashed. To be fair, the zoo is doing great things for the recovery of endangered species such as the Galapagos Island tortoise, the animals are obviously treated very well. But just like Taronga in Sydney, or any other zoo, many animals do not have so much space. The elephant is in a small paddock, whereas in the wild he travels hundreds of kilometers at a time. Lions are stuck on a small island when in the wild they are roaming, hunting for their prey, fulfilling the thousands of years of evolution which shaped them. Dubbo is just a zoo.
After Dubbo we travelled to Orange to meet relatives. They were kind enough to put us up for the night.
Orange to the Jenolan Caves - 7th of May 2010
Waltje, my aunty, showed us around Orange, beginning with breakfast at a cafe, and a great view from and old extinct volcano, then around town, a beautiful little park in full european Autumn colour, and the shopping district. After eventually saying our goodbyes we travelled on towards the Jenolan Caves hoping for an available room at the Caves House. On the way we came to Oberon and another bakery declaring award winning pies. Maybe it was a closed '1 shop' competition because the pies were pretty ordinary and runny. People don't know what a good pie is out here. So on we went, belly not complaining but taste buds not really satisfied, to the caves. We got lucky and secured a room in the old Caves House for $100 for the night. We also booked a couple of caves tours for that night (8PM) and the next day (3PM). It was nice to relax in a nice old style, cosy hotel in the middle if the quiet mountains. The caves tours were very interesting and beautiful to see, with all the various amazing shapes formed over thousands of years.
Jenolan Caves to Sydney - 8th of May 2010
We did a small amount of bushwalking the next day, did our caves tour and left late, driving towards Katoomba with dinner in mind. We were now very close to home.
Today was another day spent mostly driving. From Mungo NP we got up and left without breakfast and drove over a couple hundred km dirt road to the lakes of menindee in Kinchega National Park. These are lakes now fed by the Darling river, controlled by weirs and outlets in order to provide water for irigation and Broken Hill's own water supply. We looked around, took a few photos, had lunch and moved on towards Broken Hill itself. Reaching the town we were still undecided as to where we wanted to stay. We popped our head into the YHA tourist accomodation to see a rather large man snorring behind the counter. The hostel/motel looked a bit run down, and I was put off by it all. We moved on down to the 'Lake view' caravan park and stayed the night in a cabin, with the intentions of camping the next couple nights after that. We decided to eat out that night, and eventually followed the locals into 'the Demo' club on Argent street where I had a huge slice of roast beef and plate of chips and as much vegies and salad as I could fit in my belly. Martina had the battered fish. We both went back to the caravan park uncomfortably full.
Silverton way - 30th April 2010
Today we did the silverton direction, starting at the 'Daydream mine' off the highway to silverton along a winding dirt road. We passed through several closed gates which we had to open and close after we rolled through. We knoew we must be close as we passed an old ore smelter on a hill on the right, and as we passed around one more bend we were there. There wasn't much to see from the surface. Some discarded iron tools, an old shed and the cottage from which we were to sign up for the tour. The underground tunnels would be where the interesting stuff was. It was no gian open-cut mine, but a mine of narrow tunnels borrowed out by pick and hammer and black powder. A huge amount of toil and effort by men who would die in their 40's, expended by their work in the harsh conditions, dug tunnels kilometers long under the hill, all for a glittery substance called silver. We would be taken down an old shaft and shown around by our guide whos accent marked him as 'aussie true and through' in the old sense, in a way that, I understand now, I never was. After the mining tour we continued along the same road towards silverton. Publicised as a ghost town, we found it not quite to be so. More like a town that had had a boom, but then the excitement moved elsewhere to leave this town as alive as many small towns in the outback. We spoke to a lady that had lived there as a child, schooled there along with 30 other children only to move on in her 20's, and now come back, build a new house and renovate the old church. I would call it an old town with a grand and interesting history much larger than its present. But it is not a ghost town. As the sun dipped down and we finished our damper and Quandong pie at the little old cafe, we took off quickly west to view the local dam, Umberumberka, which only a few months earlier had received so much rain that it had overflowed and flooded the town! It hadn't been like that for a very long time that we had to see it. A race back to town for sunset saw us reaching the cafe up on top of the Broken Hill mines just after the sun disappeared under the hills. The town was still visible down below and the sky was soft pinks and blues. But the town below, for all its interesting past, is not a pretty one. So we took off once more back to the caravan park to pitch our tent.
1st of May 2010
I woke up after uninterrupted sleep to an already high sun. 7:30 had come and it was time for a shower. We went shopping early and going to the Broken Hill 'Centro' took in a couple of sights on the way. There are remnants of their mining past strewn all over town; in parks, on corners, on the high ruins of the original hill. We grabbed some things from the shops and headed to the nearest park where we had our breakfast; More monuments and mining structures were to be found here. After breakfast we headed up to the 'Broken earth cafe' no the top of the 'Broken Hill'. Now bright and sunny the whole town could be seen below. The cafe is also a sort of a museum with a monument to the miners who had died working the mines around the side of the cafe. For $3 a piece you could go and read about all the horrible ways in which people died trying to extract the minerals from this hill. We had the whole day to fill, so after the cafe we decided to slowly explore town once more. It was getting quite hot, like a mid-summers-day in Sydney, it was hard to be in the open for too long such was the heat. I can't imagine living here through the summer, here, with no beach nearby to cool off at, when it is going into winter now and still almost unbearable. At least there is no humidity along with it. Later on in the day we explored the site of a stand-off between two turkish sympathizers and the Broken Hill police which occurred during World-War I. The pakistani, of course, lost out in this lost cause. Though, with the lives lost more precious than the cause being faught over, aren't all wars lost-causes for all involved? Nearing 3pm we decided to explore the walk out by the rock sculptures It would take a couple of hours and we wanted to be finishing up to reach the sculptures themselves around sundown for maximum effect when the light would be best, and the view most impressive. The walk was interesting and took us through scriub containing many species of plant, though not the evasive Quandong which we had wanted to find. We even saw the odd Kangaroo. Eventually the sun was slipping faster and faster towards the horizon, and we hurried up the last hill only to find the sculptures difficult to spot in the mess of tourists who had come in on busses. Getting a good shot of the rock carvings and sculptures was almost impossible without snapping 3 or 4 other people trying to do the same thing. It was hard not to feel indignant. After all, we had walked all the distance to get here, and all they had done was shit their arses on a bus seat and get deposited there by the driver. Still, eventually the good man honked his horn, and the sheep obediently re-entered their penn to be driven away, and we were left with the minimum of light needed to make a shot work. Martina was happy enough. It meant there was no need for a pre-dawn hike up the next morning! Satisfied, we took off back to town and ended the day in the local chinese noodle shop. Shower and bed followed no t long after as there seemed nothing else in Broken Hill to do of a night!
Wutawintji National Park - 2nd of May 2010
We left Broken Hill for the Wutawintji National Park. We were to spend one night there in between getting to White Cliffs. It was a relatively short drive over dirt road to the park, and getting there early we decided to immediately do one of the gorge walks available. We started off crossing a dry creek into a field of scrub. It took a couple hours to get to the gorge which held only still brackish water. While having any water in this area is an achievment, it was not an impressive amount. However the colours of the rock were strickingly red and with such blue sky it was still a beautiful sight. Having finished that walk we drove from there to the other end of the park. We passed the remains of an old pub from the pioneeer days, and had lunch in what little shade we could find in what was feeling like a 35 degree (Celcius) day. Not bad for mid Autumn. We decided then we would try to find the so-called 'split rock'. There were no signs and the only direction we had for it was in the brochure for the park which stated that it was 3km east of where we stood. I had a compass with me so we worked out if we followed the fire-trail out we might just find it. We didn't really know what we were looking for though, and after several kilometers through the heat, spying what may or may not be the 'Split Rock' we decided we had had enough and headed back to the car. On the way back I walked into another dry creek going in the same direction, thinking it was at least better shaded than the fire-trail. The going was tough though through the loose dry sand, and I had just decided to quit the creek when I heard a chirping; a sort of desperate call for help. I looked ahead to see something floundering in the sand. It was a baby bird fallen from the best. Not really thinking I picked it up and brushed the ants from its back. I was immediately intent on saving this little innocent life. I called over to Martina now further ahead than me, and we inspected the bird together as I held it in my t-shirt. I had no idea what to do with it. In hindsight I should have tried to return it to the nest, but it didn't occur to me. Maybe unfortunately for that chick. Or perhaps it would not have made any difference to how things turned out. I figured having been in the dry sand it might want some water. I filled my water bottle-cap up with water and tried to get it to drink, but it didn't. I figured it would at least like a bath, so I dribbled some cool water and cradled it in my now wet t-shirt. We then took it with us and drove to the visitors centre in order to call for help. Wires only serviced the Sydney area, and they kindly put me through to the RCPCA. The man I spoke to gave me instructions towards keeping it alive.
1.It won't drink water, don't try, you will drown it (whoops, already tried that)
2.Keep it warm (whoops! Now to mention it, it does look like it is shivering...)
3.Don't feed it until tomorrow; give it mushed up Weet-Bix (ok, that I can do).
We stuck it in a plastic lid padded with toilet paper to keep it warm and kept it in the warm car until it was time to go to bed. We had dinner with a few fellow campers; a mixed couple from Sweden and Malta, and Bob, a real traveller going through many of the same places we had. Bob was kind enough to invite us to eat with him and share his lamb-chops and potatoes. A kindly meal in comparision to our usual and awaiting canned soup (we are very lazy campers). Come bed time we all said goodnight and I moved the again chirping (and not so shivering) bird into the tent with us to help keep it warm.
3rd of May 2010
It was early morning, 3am. I was anxious for the bird. Was it making a noise? Was it dead? Was it alive? I took a look. It had been moving since I last left it. And maybe at that point I woke it up again for it started chirping again. Calling, I suppose, for its mother. There was just me. And I still had no clue about how to take care of a baby bird. I tried to go back to sleep but the bird continued to chirp and click in a disturbing way. I figured it must be hungry. 'Surely I don't have to wait any longer to feed it' I thought. The chirping had woken Martina now too, and when she asked 'Is it feeding time' It made up my mind to get the Weet-Bix. After mashing up the cereal with water I then attempted to feed it to the bird. No reaction. Just now a strange bird whimper. It wouldn't open its beak to eat, and I didn't know what to do. I was beaten. Maybe it was just the wrong time to feed it. And whats more, I suddenly noticed a few tiny lice like insects crawling over my hand. I supposed it had come from handling the bird. I started to become concerned. I did not want lice. I decided to move the bird back to the car. Sitting in the car with the bird I squatted something on my shoulder. Another lice! God! 'I am becoming infested!' I thought. I wondered what I could do to counter this bodily invasion. The best idea I could come up with was to take a shower and perform a vigorous scrubbing. I grabbed a fresh change of clothes, shampoo, and headed off over the odd 150 metres through the dark camp-site and squeaky gate to the showers startling a kangaroo along the way. There were no lights in the showers but I had taken with me our new battery powered fluorescent lamp. I started the shower, waited for the water to warm, and stepped in. I scrubbed myself thoroughly in the shower with door open. It is strange alone there at night, stars still in the sky. It could have felt spooky there in the dark. But as I stook under the warm water, a beautiful green frog lazily hopped across the bathroom floor and it became more of a spiritual experience. A sort of getting close to nature. I began to enjoy my morning shower. It was now starting to get light. And having eventually finished my shower, I realized one important thing that I had forgotten. My towel was still 150 metres away, locked up in the car. 'Bugger' I thought. 'What am I to do?'. I didn't want to just put my clothes on, I was all wet. There was only one thing I could do. Only one option that made sense. No one was up, and no one saw me make that 150 metre dash naked through the camp-site with nothing but my Keen sandals on my feet and the lamp behind my bum. I made it back to the car without detection, grabbed my towel and headed back to the showers where I could dry myself and dress. After the run, despite the cool of the morning, I was feeling very warm. I was feeling good.
Making it back to the car again, dressed this time, I realized that not all was good. The bird made no sound. The bird did not move. The bird was dead. I sadly removed it from the car and laid him out in the bush for nature to take back its own. I had tried. Not a very good try, but I had tried. By this time, after all the noise of me running to and fro, closing and opening car doors, Martina was awake and getting up. I told her of the bird news.
Later on as Bob got up, we organised a walk together. The loop walk. It was early still and an ideal time to do it before it got too hot. We drove to the track-head and started off over gorge and through gully. It was a lovely walk full of colours and shapes that stirred the imagination. It ended up longer than expected; a good 12 kilometers or so, and the day got very hot. But despite finishing it very tired, it was a satisfying completion to a very memorable time in Wutawintji National Park.
The day was, however, not yet over for us. We were booked into P.J's Underground B&B for that night, and needed to drive still 130km over awful dirt road to get there. The road was indeed one of the worst yet with sections of corrogation, pot holes, and dozens of those damn 'dip' sections where water can flow when it rains enough. Instead of engineering proper drainage that can handle a bit of a flow, they just dip the road so that when it does flow it hopefully doesn't take that section of road with it.
White Cliffs is a small town. It consists of a pub and a general store, a primary school, and a hill or two where the opals are mined. Our lodging, P.J's B&B was in one of those hills. What used to be someones small opal mine tunnelled out with pick and shovel had been sold to Pete, who had transformed the original mine into a home and extended the mine further with todays technologies. The mine was now a maze of hundreds of metres of tunnels; all someones opal search hobby. Pete was apparently with the NSW National Parks. This mine was only a side interest. But they had made a beautiful job on the 'home' part of the mine. And now one can spend the night here in perfect comfort, at a constant temperature of around 22 degrees Celcius. The only problem is when you wake up in the morning you have no idea what time it is. No natural lighting to help your body clock start 'day-time'. It would take us some minutes the next morning to wake up properly. But for the moment it was still night time, and we were getting hungry, and after a quick tour of the mine we decided to go and get some dinner. Before we got far we were invited by some fellow guests to steak and salad. It was a lovely grouip of 6 older guys and gals. They were extremely friendly and talkative. We ate well and had an enjoyable night with laughs and great conversation.
The Barrier Hwy and north to coonabarabran- 4th May 2010
Before leaving White Cliffs we made a quick car tour around the opal fields; an area resembling a patch of giant ant hills, where men have made shafts down into the earth in an attempt to win their fortunes. Leaving town we got on the road to Willcania and settled in for the ride. Willcania was once a hub of the west, a major inland port town second only to Echuca. Nowadays the dusty shambles is only a faint shadow of its past industriousness and activity. Here the indigenous population seem to roam the streets, some drinking, the children are not in school, I do not believe they are on holiday. Here I get the impression that if the government cared more about these people, more would be done. It is sad. We stayed only long enough to fill our cars petrol tank at the impressive price of $1.60 a litre, and view the Darling river flowing strong and full under the bridge thanks to recent rains to the north which have helped make the area so much greener than it usually is.
Our next stop was Cobar. A vast contrast to its neighbour to the west, Cobar is a lively, tidy, and rich town. The person I spoke to in the information office was friendly and full of interesting information, and the price of petrol already 25 cents per litre cheaper. Before leaving this town we had to see the open-cut gold mine. Though not a big fan of mining, less so of open cut mining for the environmental damage often involved, they are still a very impressive sight. I have seen larger, but this was still awe inspiring, especially considering what we could see in this case was only a small portion of the depths to which their mine reached. At the bottom of this pit is a tunnel. The tunnel winds down around like a cork screw to a further 750 metres below the surface.
Time to drive further. The day was getting on and we still had not eated much. Our path was now turning off the barrier highway to travel north est towards coonabarabran. Our aim; the Warambungles. Our turn off was at the small but honest town Nyngan. First stop, pie shop. The bakery was just about to shut-up shop for the day, and when I couldn't make up my mind between a pasty or cheese and bacon pie, she gave me both for the single price. We thanked her gratefully and sat across the road on a bench to eat. Next, I wanted a wide brimmed hat for walking. Something that would protected my neck from the sun. We found such a shop on the main street just up from the bakery. Some very friendly people showed me how to fit one and I walked out happier, but much poorer; the proud owner of an Acubra. Time to really get a move on. The final leg of our days journey, Nyngan to coonabarabran. It was now dark. Following half a dozen speeding trucks we finally made it, and were eating a huge chicken schnitzel with chips and salad at the Imperial Hotel. The pepper sauce had to be the tastiest I'd ever had. For only $9 too. We went up to our room full having shared the single meal.
The Warrumbungles - 5th of May 2010
We work up early, checked out and went searching for something for breakfast. The girl who had served us last night at the pup served us this morning at the bakery, a tasty slice of banana bread. It had started off a bit cloudy, but as we neared the mountains the mist and cloud got thicker and darker. It looked like rain. Reaching the information centre we went in to do some reading about the formations we would see if it weren't so cloudy. We had to decide eventually or it would be too late to do any good walking. I convinced Martina of this and then we paid our camping fee and took off to the camping site.
We put up tent then and there in case it was to be dark when we returned from our walk, and then continued on to the start of the track. By the time we got to the beginning of the trail luckily the clouds had blown away, and there was only blue sky to see. We had definitely made the correct decision. It was going to be a great day. And it was. Many amazing panoramic views were to be seen, and to top it off, wild-life as well. Normally shy Kangaroos roamed around and later when we were to make it back to camp we saw even a couple of Emus. The track was super easy with almost wheelchair access half the way, and fantastic iron and timber steps all the way up to the top. Back at camp we watched the sunset over those impressive volcanic remnants called the Warrumbungles. With such clear skies it was going to be a cold fresh night, but lovely anyway.
The next day, after a short drive, we arrived in Dubbo. We took the tiem to look for a good meat pie. We eventually found the 'Village bakery and Cafe' which boasts the best pies in Australia (or was it the world). Unfortunately a baseless claim. Either they have not had a good pie themselves (World's worst pies, Kangaroo Valley; Bulli Butcher shop, corner of the princess highway & Park Rd) or they just hope to make locals, who have not tried better, feel ok about paying over $4 for a pie that is really only 'Michelle's' quality. In anycase it was filling enough for breakfast, and finishing up we felt ready to takle a day at Dubbo Zoo. The Western Plains Zoo had sparked the hope in my mind of a better zoo; of a zoo with more space for the animals, not just being a gaol for wild animals given nothing more to live for than the next feed, and no room for stretching their powerful muscles. My hopes were dashed. To be fair, the zoo is doing great things for the recovery of endangered species such as the Galapagos Island tortoise, the animals are obviously treated very well. But just like Taronga in Sydney, or any other zoo, many animals do not have so much space. The elephant is in a small paddock, whereas in the wild he travels hundreds of kilometers at a time. Lions are stuck on a small island when in the wild they are roaming, hunting for their prey, fulfilling the thousands of years of evolution which shaped them. Dubbo is just a zoo.
After Dubbo we travelled to Orange to meet relatives. They were kind enough to put us up for the night.
Orange to the Jenolan Caves - 7th of May 2010
Waltje, my aunty, showed us around Orange, beginning with breakfast at a cafe, and a great view from and old extinct volcano, then around town, a beautiful little park in full european Autumn colour, and the shopping district. After eventually saying our goodbyes we travelled on towards the Jenolan Caves hoping for an available room at the Caves House. On the way we came to Oberon and another bakery declaring award winning pies. Maybe it was a closed '1 shop' competition because the pies were pretty ordinary and runny. People don't know what a good pie is out here. So on we went, belly not complaining but taste buds not really satisfied, to the caves. We got lucky and secured a room in the old Caves House for $100 for the night. We also booked a couple of caves tours for that night (8PM) and the next day (3PM). It was nice to relax in a nice old style, cosy hotel in the middle if the quiet mountains. The caves tours were very interesting and beautiful to see, with all the various amazing shapes formed over thousands of years.
Jenolan Caves to Sydney - 8th of May 2010
We did a small amount of bushwalking the next day, did our caves tour and left late, driving towards Katoomba with dinner in mind. We were now very close to home.
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