After an early start to the day we left home at 6:50am. A small dog was esconsed on the usual high pile of bedding for long trips:
We travelled through Canberra, rather than
Bungendore, to avoid the macropods.
On, on past Yass in rather foggy conditions. This abated after about 200km when we turned
off the Hume Highway (which was being heavily haunted by Mr Plod). Actually, the fog was replaced by showers
that happened more or less all the way (another 650km) to Wentworth. Ho hum: welcome to Winter!
Once off the Hume the amount of water laying around in the
paddocks was astonishing. This was, I
think left overs from the rain in
February-March coming down the pipe (aka the Murrumbidgee). The worst remnant was the trashed fence beside the servo at Narranderra.
Out on the Hay Plain ...
... the great surprise was the amount of baled cotton around in the
paddocks. I have always thought these
farms grew maize not cotton. The round bales are apparently a new technology.
We were
listening to an interview on Radio National (ABC – the Australian equivalent of
NPR) about Woody Guthrie which was very
interesting for 120km – 1 hour, 2/3rds of the distance between Narrandera and
Hay! It was impressive that we could pick
up the station – albeit on different channels all the way across.
A bit later we came across a herd of cattle being droved
along and across the road.
There were lots of raptors around all the way across the
Plain. Black-shouldered Kites were the
commonest (perhaps averaging about 1 per 5km), but Nankeen Kestrels were also common and Black Kites appeared in
kettles of up to 10 birds later in the trip. (There is a more rigorous commentary on this on the last day.)
Before Hay we saw no emus but in the leg towards Balranald we
saw quite a lot. The first was a flock
of at least 12 and the later groups included a couple of controversial
sightings: 1 on the Northern side of the
road and the other on the Southern side, but between the road and the fence.
After Balranald we had a small drama with a rubber seal
around the windscreen deciding to migrate.
It was disciplined: hopefully well. Not so: it required help as detailed in two days time. About this time the weather started to look a tad average.
This memorial is to the Grey Fergie. They are given justified approbation in this town as they were the workhorse in shoring up the levee in an a lajor flood in th past.
I noted a plaque about Major Mitchell accompanied by one about the “Dig Tree”. This seems to have been where he left some doco about his stouches with indigenous folk in case he ended up not making it back to Sydney. A small amusement was a bloke charging out of one of the many pubs asking Frances if she had had lunch there today. It emerged that someone that looked “a bit like you" had done so and left their mobile phone behind. A nice touch.
Getting back to the units I noticed a couple of doggy
trailers in the drive. It turned out
they were used by a heap of greyhounds which were inside the unit and keen to discuss matters with
Tammy: as we unloaded the car herself escaped and was equally keen to see the
'hounds. Fortunately we recaptured her
before the bloodshed occurred (I don't think she would have won).
The place is generally good, apart from lacking a decent
reading light (and we forgot to BYO – which we have known to do for yonks).
