The Plunge Down Under

Road Signs in Victoria

I have been busy this weekend trying not to celebrate my birthday (unfortunately it is one of "those" ones), but I did take a few minutes out tonight to compile some road sign pictures I have snapped recently.  Hope you enjoy them, and thanks to the patient drivers of my car for pulling over, backing up, and occasionally turning around so I could capture them.

 

The following is a sign for what we would call a campground:

Motorists are urged every few miles to pull over and powernap if feeling the least big fatigued with an impressive variety of signs, along the lines of "Only sleep cures fatigue," or "Tired? Microsleep now." According to one frustrated driver in Victoria, the problem is the combination of exceptionally low speed limits with the long, empty roads---enough to make any driver quite drowsy. 

 

Apparently we are in for a bad locust year:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lighthouse at Cape Schanck

After savouring the views from Arthurs Seat, the famous landscape feature of the Mornington Peninsula that I described here, we headed the car this past Saturday toward the Lighthouse at Cape Schanck.  We had been assured that the walk from the car park down to the rocky beach would be well worth our efforts, even assuming the potential necessity of carrying James there and back, and once again, we were not disappointed.

The Cape Schanck  Lighthouse was finally completed in 1859 after officials agreed in 1841 that safety measures were needed due to the frequency of ship wrecks along Port Phillip Bay.  The Geelong Advertiser stated 1841 that ‘… the light on Cape Schanck will not only in great measure insure the safety of coasting vessels, but will also be of considerable benefit to running through the straits, as it frequently happens, from the prevalence of strong southerly winds, they approach the northern coast unavoidably nearer than agreeable…,' but it seems that due to typical government procrastination and difficulties over money, it took 18 years for the first stone to be laid.  Today, the area is significant to lighthouse aficionados because it still contains the original mechanisms, although we did not realize this until we were driving home and reading the literature we snagged at the closed tourist information booth.

At some point during our descent to the beach, Cameron came running back gesturing excitedly to me to hurry up and bring the camera.  He had spotted an echidna on the hillside, one of two monotremes found in Australia.  What I would most like to know is how can Cameron spot wildlife whereever he goes, including koalas high up in a tree when it is nearly dark, but be unable to find a ketchup bottle that is front and center in the refrigerator?

The echidna was scurrying along the hillside shown in the picture below:

After beach goers and tourists nearly ruined the beaches and marine life in this area in the 1970s and 1980s, the government of Victoria took steps to restore and preserve this beautiful stretch of land.  They put in the boardwalk and steps leading down to the beach, and encouraged visitors to admire from afar, taking care not to remove even so much as a pebble from the beach.

We think these red blobs were Red Waratah Anemones as the sign below says they look like red jellies when closed.

Sophie loves her pretty, pink---albeit impractical-for-rocky-beaches--slippers.

I mentioned to James that we had Grandma's apple cake waiting for us in the car at the top of the stairs, and he was off like a flash, running nearly all of the way up and saving Ross's shoulders in the process.

While not quite as spectacular as the scenery on the coast, the farms on the rolling green hills were enjoyed by all as we drove back home.

Arthurs Seat

My parents have gone.  They are somewhere over the Pacific, and we are understandably trying to fight off the blues around here.  I have to say that I was completely unprepared for the emotions of saying good-bye this time around.  I am feeling a bit like a young child who has just lost his balloon, and stands gazing into the sky, watching it sail away.  Without the tears, perhaps, but a bit desolate just the same.

To cheer ourselves up, we made our favorite supper (special pasta) and then spent an hour reading silly story books out loud before putting James to bed.  He thought he was going back home with his grandpa and grandma this morning.  I didn't realize it until he begged me to hurry up and get his things packed.  His only question when he finally understood was, "Well how long will it be then until I go back to Pittsburgh?"  Fortunately I was able to use his favorite number in my answer---forty days is close enough to the mark for when we make the long flight home.

We are so grateful, both that they were able to come, and that they chose to do so.  The children soaked up the extra love and attention throughout the two and a half weeks, and we all enjoyed sharing our new world with some of those who love and know us best.

Unfortunately, Australia was not as kind to my dad as we would have hoped, and he spent the last five days trying to fight a particularly virulent bug he must has picked up somewhere.  On Saturday he insisted that we continue sight-seeing without him, so we piled into the car after lunch and headed west toward the Mornington Peninsula, famous for its beaches, spas, wineries and golf courses.  We focused on the coast, driving along it for several miles until we happened upon a sign for Arthurs Seat.  Apparently it is one of the most well-known landscape features on Port Phillip Bay, and I'm sure that someone has recommended it to me during the past few weeks, but I can't remember whom.

At any rate, we enjoyed the views over the Bay from Arthurs Seat. The air was clear enough to see the Melbourne skyline in the distance---Ross is pointing to it below---although I don't think it shows up at all in the photos.  Cameron was a bit grumpy over having to spend so much time in the car "just for scenery," but as a future post will reveal, our next destination completely reconciled him to the three hours he traveled in the backseat.

 

Great Ocean Road (by Christie's Dad)

Special thanks to my dad for both the text and photos for today's post. 

Having heard (and read) much about the Great Ocean Road, it was exciting for Ruth and myself to be able to take Ross's car and drive down to experience it.  (Thanks to Ross for making his car available and taking public transportation to work).  It is 66 miles of spectacular scenery, from cliffs and rock formations to rain forests.  Surprisingly, on a beautiful warm day, it was not extremely busy.  The road begins at Torquay, which is a nice town named for Torquay, England. 

One of the first things that struck me as we entered this road was that it quite obviously was a favorite of tourists as well as local Aussies, judging by the sign seen below.  There were dozons of similar signs.  Driving on the left is important, but even more so when a logging truck enters your view.

The view is great almost right away, with a refreshing absence of billboards.

One really awsome stop along the way led us to what is called "Twelve Apostles", a collection of vertical rock formations extending from the sea.  There are actually only eight Apostles left as  four took a dive into the water.

The short walk back to the car was uneventful until this little guy crossed our path.  Locals would probably laugh and say "no worries," but visitors who read guidebooks get into the mindset that if it crawls, slithers, or has 6 legs,  it will probably kill you if you don't get help within 11 seconds, maybe 12.  (Come on, there were several Australians there who weren't too keen on going near it.  Sure, it's just some kind of lizard, but the main point is that it is Australian, not American).  I still love Australia, and the  people are nice, but a few creatures maybe not so much, that's all I'm saying.

A side trip was taken to the north to drive into the rain forest.  The Otway Fly tree top walk is  an engineering marval, passing through the forest for more than a mile.  It is constructed of aluminum and rises, at points, more that 100 feet above the forest floor.  Better than that, you can even make it sway a foot or so sideways.  God's creation is breathtaking, especially 100 feet off the ground in a rain forest. 

Then, if one wanted to go even higher, there's this tower (125 steps, if I remember correctly)..

A view looking down from the tower. 

There was so much we didn't see, and we would like to come back here.  For instance, the London Bridge, which is no longer a bridge, would be interesting.  The span dropped into the ocean, leaving only the two pillars.  The bad news is there were folks stranded atop one of the pillars.  The good news, no one was hurt.  I assume they were rescued.

We were late heading home that evening so we found a nice little retaurant the Aussie's call "Mackers" and we call "Mickey D's".  I guess if you're a local,  you would know exactly where to eat, but we settled for the familiar.  We've driven a thousand miles (1600 kilometers) or close to it.  Australia is wonderful. (Far away, maybe).

River Red Gum Safari on the Murray

19^th October

Our adventure today indisputably falls into the spectacular category, one that my mother described partway through as quite possibly her most thrilling tourist experience to date.  At the time we were deep in the Barmah National Forest, located on the banks of the Murray River (which I wrote about in yesterday's post), riding in the back of an open jeep that reminded my dad of the WWI era.  We had seen dozens of koalas, a couple of them with babies in tow, and had glimpsed numerous groups of kangaroos bounding through the trees.

Between the birds, the redgums, the brilliant purple wildflowers, the water, and the animals, it was hard to know where to look, and then, where to point the camera.  That did not stop us from taking a couple hundred photos, of course.  I have edited them down to eighty or so, but will still be hard pressed to choose for this post.

Our guide for this adventure was Peter, a wonderfully talkative man who has lived in this area his entire life.  He and his wife Karen have been running the Redgum Retreat for the past ten years, feeding guests who stay in the cabins on their property, and offering tours through the forest, but his enthusiasm seemed incredibly fresh.  We delighted in his accent and his colorful expressions as he told us stories, educated us about the wildlife, and expressed his concerns for the future of his neck of the bush. His accent, intonation, zest for life and storytelling ability reminded me very much of two or three friends and family members of ours that live in the Ottawa Valley area of Canada.

Peter began by apologizing for his inability to take us into the best parts of the Barmah National Park due to all of the recent rains.   The standing water made for quite pretty scenery, however, so we did not complain (“whinge” would be the word used here, I think, instead of complain).  He described the recent drought as being of twelve years’ duration.  In Melbourne, we had been told it was a seven-year drought, and in Shepparton, a local oldster told me it had been going on for ten years.  In any case, they clearly have not seen much rain here for a long time until the past few months.

Reflecting on the drought, and the fact that they have not had a bush fire in these parts in spite of the dry weather, led Peter to share his concerns for the area of the bush where he lives.  In April, the Barmah forest was declared a national forest, meaning that government officials in Victoria can now tell the locals what they can and cannot do with the land.  Peter clearly believes this to be a sorry turn of events.  How can a youngster with only a university education possibly understand what is best for the land, especially in comparison with local families who have lived in the area for generations?  He predicts that since cattle will no longer be able to graze, for example, the undergrowth will increase quickly, leading to a greater possibility of fire, which will in turn destroy the habitat of his beloved birds, koalas and kangaroos.  No doubt the government would beg to differ, and in the case of a probable bush fire, we can only hope that Peter is wrong.

The front of Peter's house, below, looks much like most of the houses we saw out in the bush: a one-story rectangle, with a verandah wrapping around the exterior.  We were invited in to "nip into the loo" before we began our three hour safari, an offer we gratefully accepted.

The view from Peter's house:

The abundant purple wildflowers make for a great backdrop, but Peter told us they are called "Paterson's Curse."  Introduced from the Mediterranean, the plant is excellent for bee keeping, but toxic to most grazing animals.  The seeds lay dormant over summer, waiting for the spring rains, at which point they germinate in their thousands and quickly become resistant to drought through their extensive taproot system.  Peter also claimed they were the cause of our hay fever symptoms.  I read on one website that Paterson's Curse has become the dominant pasture weed of temperate Australia.

One woman on the tour with us remarked that riding in the jeep on the dirt tracks and occasionally getting stuck in the mud was more thrilling than amusement park rides.  Each time we entered a big puddle we wondered if Peter would be able to get us out, but he always came through.

 

Shortly after we set out on our three hour trip, we came across this fellow directly overhead.  He gave us no notice at all, but continued to eat for the five minutes we sat watching him.  Cameron wondered aloud if he could pry the koala out of the tree, but Peter told us it would take at least two grown men to accomplish this.

James was mesmerized for most of the three hours with watching for koalas and the excitement of riding through muddy tracks in the back of a jeep.  In the absence of his daddy, (ironically in Miami, Florida at the time we were on the safari), Grandpa made a pretty good substitute.

We soon lost track of all the koalas we saw, but we won't forget a mother with a little guy on her back, on the banks of the Murray River.  Peter had us all stay in the vehicle while he walked over to her and began talking quietly to her.  Once he determined that they would not be frightened of us, he called us over.  The mother and baby watched us for the twenty minutes we stood under their tree, and only when we pulled away again, did the mother climb down and decide to find a different tree.  She climbed straight up the slippery bark of a second tree, rejected it apparently, climbed down, and was halfway up the third before we were out of sight.  The baby was probably about six to eight months old.

We were amazed at how the koalas could sleep, balanced on a single branch, and not fall out.

Toward the end of our safari we came across another pair of koalas.  The mother is on the left, and later we realized she also had a tiny one in her pouch.  She appeared to be providing guidance to the one-year-old koala (last year's baby), on the right.  He would look at her, she would respond to him, and then he would move slightly up or down the tree.  This is something all mothers who have had two young children can relate to, I think---holding the baby, while trying to guide the older one.

Cameron has a book called Pocket Babies checked out from the library right now, and it says that mother koalas teach their little ones many lessons, including how to climb well.  If she thinks they are being naughty, she turns them over and gives them a sound spanking, at which point the youngsters scream and cry much like human children.  After this, the mother will usually hug the baby, and both will take a nap together.

 
One of the women on our tour asked us to remind our friends back in America to not call the koalas 'bears.'  I think most of us know that the koalas are not related in any way to bears, but instead are cousins to the possum and the kangaroos. They look do look so much like a teddy bear, however, with their plump little bodies, stubby tails, and furry round ears.  We haven't held one (yet), but we have been told they will often put their arms around you for a cuddle.  They have extra fat on their rumps to give them cushioning for sitting all day in tree branches.

Other interesting tidbits about the koala:

--They measure a little less than 2.5cm, or 1 inch, when born.

--They remain in their mother's pouch for about six months, at which point they are about 10 inches long.  They then crawl up on her back and ride their until about a year old, when they are nearly full grown.

--Koalas rarely drink water, but instead get all they need by licking dew off the leaves that they eat.  Their major food source is the tough, oily, medicinal leaf of the eucalyptus tree.  They must be very careful about which type of gum tree they eat from, because the oil can change into a poisonous acid during certain seasons.  This is why they must change trees from time to time, and always sniff the leaves and taste them before letting the little ones eat.

--Koalas can be grumpy, and little ones soon realize that they must give their older relatives space.  Each koala has its own tree to eat from and sleep in.  If a younger one tries to climb an occupied tree, it will be chased away by the older koala.

The Barmah Forest is also home to hundreds of bird species, including the emu, which we did not get to see.  Peter would have liked to take us to the giant nest of the Wedge-tailed Eagle, but the water prevented us---all the more reason to return and bring Ross with us we think.  We did see the pink, gray and white Galahs (prononced ga-LAAHS) by the dozens, however, another bane to farmers in the area as they congregate in flocks of a hundred or more and strip the grain fields.  The Laughing Kookaburras in the trees above lived fully up to their name.  Their laughter was so loud, in fact, that we could hear it easily over the jeep engine.  It sounded like an entrance to a haunted house.  Peter told us they always laugh at the Americans out on safari in the bush, which in turn gave us a laugh.

At the end of our magical tour, we were greeted by Karen at the house with a warm lunch, tea and coffee, and dessert.  Nearly everything she put out was consumed in short order, all in all the perfect ending to one of the best mornings ever.

The Big Strawberry Followed by a Visit to Yarrowonga

 

19^th October 2010

If Numurkah is bird-watching heaven, then the nearby town of Yarrowonga, located on the shores of the Murray River just south of New South Wales, is a veritable paradise.  Last night I started making a list of all the birds we had seen during our excursion to Yarrowonga, and easily listed twenty before turning in. 

Our day started out with a scrumptious breakfast at a local attraction called The Big Strawberry.  Eating breakfast out once a week is a long-standing tradition with my parents, and one in which we are happy to join them from time to time.   Since we had heard of the Australian affinity for large monuments of things like strawberries, we figured this might be a good spot to try.  Not surprisingly, it seemed a bit commercial--designed for large tourist buses, but the breakfast was a delight down to the last morsel.  My dad and I ordered the “Light Breakfast,” which included two bits of bacon, two eggs on toast, and a grilled tomato.  The others had the "plain" strawberry pancakes, meaning they came only with the strawberry filling and a large dollop of thickened cream---no scoop of strawberry ice cream on the side, much to the dismay of the children (I was accused of being a mean mom, but I don't understand the custom of having ice cream with pancakes, especially for breakfast).  We also ordered long black coffees, a change from our normal order of cappuccinos when we are out. 

We felt ready for anything after this breakfast and after allowing the younger two to have a bit of a “play” on the outdoor equipment (other similar, common expressions include having “a think” or “a gossip”), we headed the car toward Yarrowonga.  Upon hearing that we were interested in nature sightseeing, the gregarious clerk at the information center suggested that we take a walk on nearby Chinaman’s Island.  She could not have chosen better.  It took us over an hour to complete the 2 kilometer trail as we stopped to admire and photograph the birds, bushes, trees and the river, here widened to a lake called Mulwara.

The Murray River is the most important river system in Australia, and at nearly 1500 miles, the 16th longest in the world. It is the third longest navigable, however, after the Amazon and Nile, and is often compared to the Mississippi.  It has four major dams, supplies water to 1.5 million households, and along with its tributaries, is the part of the third largest water catchment on earth.  This catchment actually forms one seventh of Australia's land mass. It has an unusually high saline content, meaning it is suitable primarily for irrigation.  The volume of the Murray is considerably less than other comparable rivers in the world, and of that smaller volume, only about 38% of flows into the ocean. For about half a century from 1853, it functioned as a water highway, and today a few paddle steamers still operate for tourists.

My pictures do capture some of the spectacular colors of the birds we watched on the shore of Chinaman's Island, but they cannot begin to do justice to the experience of listening to the cacophony of voices, songs and bird calls, nor to the pleasure of viewing the brilliant flashes of changing colors as they flitted about from branch to branch.  What with a party of seven people including at least two very noisy members, we suspect that for every bird we did see and photograph, there were at least ten that we missed.

No one could have missed the flock of Sulphur-crested Cockatoos (a type of parrot).  We began noticing the brilliant flashes of white along the roadside as we approached Yarrowonga, and just as we began the trail on Chinaman’s Island, a dozen or so of them started shrieking and darting overhead as if to protest our visit.  I have earlier described the Rainbow Lorikeets as loud and shrill, but they are nothing compared to the Sulphur-crested Cockatoo.  Next to the Voice category, Simpson and Day have noted “extremely raucous screech” for this type of cockatoo, and I could not agree more.  The curving, brilliant yellow crest is wonderful to see, however, and we did not tire of watching it lift up when the birds settled on a branch.

The Crimson 'Yellow' Rosella, seen with the Red-rumped Parrot below, was also hard to miss.

 A Black Swan

An extra-large Laughing Kookaburra.  We thought he looked a bit like an owl when he looked straight at us.

Purple Swamphen

The Dusky Moorhen

The male Red-rumped Parrot, possibly sitting on nest.  They choose hollows in eucalypts for next-building spots.  Typically the female sits on the eggs while the male feeds her.

Seen here with his life-long mate, the duller olive-green female:

A picture of the red rump from which it derives its name:

Another type of parrot, the Crimson Rosella, I think.

We caught glimpses of the Superb Fairy Wren as well, but it is far too fast for my reflexes.  I didn't bother to photograph the black birds, honeyeaters, sparrows, ducks nor the ravens and after dreaming of birds all night long, thought it just as well that the purpose of the next day's excursion was a tour throught the River Red Gum Forest of the Barmah National Forest, home to hundreds of koalas and kangaroos.

Out in the Bush

17^th October 2010

Today we drove south from Numurkah (population 4600) to the larger town of Shepparton (population 38,800), located about 180 kilometers, or two hours, north of Melbourne in the Goulburn Valley, a region often called the food bowl of Australia.  When Ross's colleague at work heard where we were headed, he remarked that we were going into the bush, hence the title for today's post.  It seems that when you drive away from a metropolitan area in Australia, you first enter the bush, and if you keep driving, you end up in the outback at some point, but I don't have this entirely figured out yet.

Shepparton has been in the news here recently, first for the somewhat ironical flooding that occurred in the first part of September, and most recently, after new guidelines were suggested for water use in the farming communities and wetlands that surround it.   Unsurprisingly the local farmers and fruit growers oppose the more stringent water use guidelines that were handed down, and believe they will lead to the loss of hundreds of agricultural jobs.

We purchased some produce at the weekly farmers’ market in Shepparton, as well as some locally-made soaps and apparel items, but we didn’t discuss water use with the people we met.  Instead we were asked multiple times by the friendly vendors about our accent.  Several times in the past few days Australians have inquired if I might be Canadian.  I had read in a guidebook that Aussies have learned that while Americans are not in the least offended by being taken for Canadians, the reverse is not true, and so the first question for a perceived North American is often, “Are you from Canada?” rather than ”Are you American?”  Another question we have received more than once: “Now where would that lovely accent be from?” 

In any case we have had many opportunities to talk about our impressions of Australia and to receive advice on the best places to take the kids or the best spots for kangaroo and koala sightings.  It is a bit more difficult to communicate here than in Melbourne.  The clerk at the local IGA was completely flummoxed by my “How are you?” response to her enquiry, “How ya goin’?”  The latter greeting won’t roll off my tongue without feeling awkward, but I have vowed to at least work on my intonation and accent when asking “How are you?” (something closer to “howa yeew?”)??  

One such conversation proved particularly fruitful.  A man my parents met at our resort swimming pool learned of their desire to see some of the marsupials that inhabit the countryside here, and he assured them that if we drove north from Numurkah to the Murray River at twilight we would be guaranteed to come across at least a few kangaroos in the bush.  

Thus it was that we set out in the car after supper with high hopes, and we were not disappointed.  We continued for about fifteen miles through seemingly endless, unvarying flat fields and cattle pastures.  We had been told that the area was once more desert-like, a good habitat for the ‘roo, but after the farmers moved in and started irrigating, that all changed, leading to fewer kangaroos in the area.  Finally we turned off onto a narrow road with a koala sign and kept our eyes peeled for anything unusual in the tree branches.

Fortunately for the adults, we had some children with keener eyesight than ours, one of whom spotted a koala in a redgum tree.  My dad managed to get the car turned around, and we drove back to the shy creature.  He made a feeble attempt to crawl away from the crowd of people descending upon him with cameras in hand, but he eventually gave up and settled for staring at us in return. Unfortunately all of our pictures were rather grainy due to the lack of light.

The koala viewing accomplished, we climbed back into the car in search of the hopping variety of marsupials.  Just as we were about to give up, a couple of smaller ‘roos bounded into sight.  We turned onto a dirt driveway to follow them a ways, and captured the following shot. 

The gorgeous sunset lingered throughout the thirty minutes it took us to make our way back.  Those who know my mother well can appreciate that she couldn’t have asked for a better ending to a wonderful day.  Little did we know it was merely a foretaste of what we would experience two days later.

 

P.S. Since a favorite aunt of mine requested some pictures of the kids yesterday, I am throwing in a couple just for her taken during our visit to the Shepparton Farmers' Market, and one my dad took later when he and my mom took Katie on a walk along the Goulbourn River.

There are no kids in this one, but I thought it was an extra good one of my dad.

The grown-ups' favorite stand at the market:

The kids begged to spend their money here, but since they had just consumed still-warm donuts sold by the Rotary Club, I wouldn't let them.

 

Bird Watching Heaven in Numurkah and Surrounds

Edited on 21st October:  I did say below that we were novices at bird identification. Further reading about the redgum forest on the Murray River, as well as a closer look at our bird guide, has led me to realize that instead of the Turquoise Parrot, we were seeing the Red-rumped Parrot---not nearly as nice a name, I must say, but still a very pretty bird.

We have arrived back in Melbourne in one piece after a successful roadtrip, and I am taking a break from the tedium of the inevitable laundry and unpacking to catch up online.  Despite a fair amount of effort on the part of myself and my dad, I was unable to connect my computer to the wifi at our resort, but I continued to compose a few posts which I will put up over the next few days.  Here is the first:

16^th October 2010

We have no lake at the Lakeside Resort where we are staying, the temperature has plummeted to quite possibly its lowest point since we arrived in Australia, our journey yesterday took us through driving rain and wind to get to a town only a handful of people in Melbourne have heard of before, but joy of joys, we have the Turquoise Parrot. 

The resort where we are staying has suffered first hand from the drought I have written about previously.  It was built around a man-made lake and at one time offered a beach, beautiful views and lots of boating activities.  Once water rationing went into effect, however, the resort was no longer able to purchase the water needed to keep the lake filled, and currently the managers estimate that they lose more water each year through evaporation than they are able to buy.  They do have a plan to restore at least part of the lake to its former beauty, but it seems to me that it will be difficult as even more stringent guidelines for water use have been recommended within the past week, leading to angry protests from the farming communities in this area.

 

 

The swamp-that-used-to-be-a-lake may not be the thing of beauty it once was, but it is a marvelous place for bird-watching.  Earlier in the day my mom and I identified the magnificent Australian Pelican.  Sadly, my camera was not within reach, but we enjoyed watching a pair soar over the swamp.  Accompanying the pelicans were several cormorants. 

Later in the afternoon I arrived back at our villa excited about a beautiful bird I had seen and photographed while on a walk.  It took only a few moments to verify that my parents had just spotted the same bird outside our front door. After poring over the pages of our bird for some time (we are novices at bird identification, and there are 54 different parrots listed), we concluded that we had seen the Turquoise Parrot.

While I was grilling sausages later for supper, a few more came to visit our front lawn.  I left the picture-taking to my dad while I continued to examine our bird guide, stopping occasionally to turn the sizzling meat.  At that point I was looking up a crested bird we had noticed all day feeding on the grounds around us.  I was a bit deflated to learn it was *just* a Crested Pigeon, but I’ll include a picture nonetheless.

As for other birds of the day, we couldn’t help but notice a smallish bird with black feathers contrasting starkly with its brilliant white belly in the grass around our condo. The tail feathers spread out when it moves, and sure enough, it was listed with the Fantail birds as the Willie Wagtail.  Like the Crested Pigeon, it is abundantly common, but entertaining to watch as it wags and fans its tail while hunting insects on the ground.  The Willie has a sweet albeit repetitive song, a nice change from the shrill, noisy birds that populate the streets around our house in Melbourne.

Birds were not the only thing to appreciate in Numurkah.  Before we left Melbourne, I could sense a bit of bewilderment on the part of those who heard it was our destination.  Australia has so many spectacular tourist destinations.  Why would I be taking my parents to Numurkah?  The short answer is that road trips in the country are what my parents love best. The town reminded us very much of the one in which my mother grew up in rural Michigan. The fact that it was surrounded by flat grain fields and thousands of acres of cattle pasture further added to the impression.  The sheep and olive groves were not something we see in Michigan, of course, and we smiled over the juxtaposition of apple orchards, orange groves and cacti on the same back road.  We discussed how much my apple-growing grandfather would have marveled to see it and wished we could have shown him a picture.

As for the town itself, we love the main street, and my parents very much enjoyed having morning tea (in their case, coffee and a muffin) at the local bakery/coffee shop.  I would have liked to join them, but spent the time watching the younger ones swim for hours at the wonderful indoor pool.  Their pure enjoyment was a pleasure, however, and I alternated between joining them and reading with one eye on the pool.

Crosswalk Sign:

 

 

First Rose, First Road Trip

We are loading the car for our first road trip in Victoria, heading north to a town called Numurkah, not too far from the border of New South Wales near the Murray  River.  I do not anticipate having internet access during the next few days.  Ross suggested that I figure out how to do automated posts, but that seemed beyond my capabilities at the present time.  I will look forward to writing about our latest adventures and posting pictures sometime next week.  Until then I will leave you with a picture, taken yesterday, of the first rose in our front garden.

National Rhododendron Gardens

For today's post we are indebted to my friend Crystal Keller.  When I asked her recently for ideas of things to see during the visit of my parents, she wrote back with a wonderfully long, detailed list of possibilities.  I read no further than "rhododendron gardens," however, knowing that would appeal to my mother, and indeed she was in her glory yesterday as we soaked in the gorgeous (pronounced something like "GAAH-jus") gardens in their idyllic alpine setting.  As a bonus, admission, including a 20 minute bus tour, was free for all.

We were greeted at the entrance by a kookaburra, and we spent the rest of our time trying to pick out its laugh amongst the dozens of other unfamiliar bird calls we heard in the trees.  By the end of our three hour, three mile walk we were confident that we were identifying it correctly.

 

The rhododendrons were the eye-catchers of course, but we also marveled over the ferns.

Of the hundreds of different varieties we saw, the bell-shaped rhododendrons were my favorite.  Our tour guide concurred, describing them as "divine," and proclaiming the soil in which they are grown to be "absolutely brilliant."  Her enthusiasm reminded me of my flower-loving, gardening friend Carol, and especially to her I dedicate the probably too numerous photos in this post.

Our guide compared the mountain ash, seen below, to the California Redwoods.  They are both magnificent to behold.  The mountain ash is the tallest of all eucalypts, and the highest flowering plant, measuring up to 70--100 metres (230-330 feet). 

James wanted to know, "Can I live right here?"

The three youngest of our group especially enjoyed the proteas, a plant native to South Africa, and delighted in their soft, fuzzy exteriors.

Sophie did a magnificent job of encouraging James to keep walking (the promise of a tim tam once we got back to the car helped as well).  He was forced to rely on his own to feet to get him around, and since we walked downhill for the first hour, our progress on the way back was rather slow.  We were rewarded with a stunning views at the very end, however, something not fully appreciated at that point by the younger set.  They did survive, and I foresee future trips to these lovely gardens.