Australia, rrhoea

14 February 202314 February 2023

Tasmania

Looks like this dickhead ate a big bag of Cheetos and wiped his hands all over the rocks

Nearly three years ago as I was eagerly anticipating my return to Australia amidst the worst of the pandemic, I reflected on my many incredible road trips around Canada and America and reached the conclusion that it was something I should do more of in my home country when I returned. I didn’t waste any time – following my release from hotel quarantine in Perth, I embarked on a road trip up the coast of Western Australia and my soul came alive. The sense of freedom, of independence, the comfort of home, was overwhelming. Especially after being trapped for so long and experiencing the immense stress of getting back at all.

I’ve seen a fair chunk of Australia, but three regions of this country were gaps in my experience which sat at the top of my list – Far North Queensland (still keen to go), the Kimberley (requires too much planning and time), and Tasmania. So, given the landscape of 2021 when international travel was still not an option, I made plans to do a ten-day road trip of Tasmania in February 2022. Unfortunately, Omicron happened, and since infection isolation was still a legal requirement then, I pulled the plug and postponed it a year (which itself is extra peculiar in retrospect given I still haven’t had covid).

So the trip began a few weeks ago with an element of “why am I doing this again?”, and I set off down the coast keen for a change of scenery at the very least. Perhaps the excitement would arrive once I got there? It did, but this time something was missing.

The Sights and The Hikes

Let’s start with the highlights. The scenery proved to be incredible. The National Parks in particular, and the walks I embarked on within them. The food was great, MONA was terrific. The local beer, wine, cider and whiskey which I sampled were amazing.

The beaches had the clearest waters and whitest, softest sand (and the water wasn’t even that cold). I had only two days of rain (one a driving day, and the other the day I did MONA – no great loss). The wildlife was exciting, although not as easily found as I’d hoped. I couldn’t get enough of all the wrens (the blue ones especially). I just wish they weren’t so shy.

The ferry was an experience in itself. I’m not sure I would do it again, but it was a nice novelty to drive my car on board, head upstairs to bed, then drive on out in another state and not have to kill time across Bass Strait, nor waste a day doing nothing.

So I arrived bright and early on a Saturday morning, and after a quick journey to Stanley (and its incredibly shallow beaches) I made my way to the first stop, Cradle Mountain.

Cradle Mountain

Cradle Mountain really was a sight to behold. The park had elements which took me back to Canada – big mountains, lakes, even the visitor centre felt a little more “Canadian”. It’s admirable how well they look after this place. All of the main paths are elevated above the ground to preserve flora and fauna, and it works. I got excited to spot my first Wombat, only to walk another five minutes and see about twenty of them. Wombats are the zero-fucks legends of the animal world. They’ll look up at you with a blank face which would make Mike Ehrmantraut look overjoyed by comparison, then continue about their day at the same pace.

I did not arrive with a plan to climb to the summit of Cradle Mountain but somehow found myself there on the first day. About halfway up the mountain is Marion’s Lookout. It’s probably the most popular walk after the lake circuit, and the view is impressive. But I got there pretty quickly and easily, and I was not satisfied. Plus, I was curious to see how everything looked from a spot over the next ridge – so I pressed on. Before I knew it, I was on my way up the mountain and there was no turning back.

My progress, illustrating the steep incline

I’ve climbed many a mountain in my time, but this was easily one of the more challenging ones. The final stretch is near-vertical with enormous boulders requiring actual climbing in some spots. I had to take my backpack off several times and throw it to the boulder above in order to spiderman my way through small gaps or take large jumps. I’m glad I have long legs, because I’m not sure how one would achieve this climb otherwise. I also imagine even the slightest amount of condensation would turn those rocks into slippery dips – so I was fortunate that the weather cooperated. But there was more than one moment where I was stuck looking for a pathway up the rockface and thought “my confidence in my ability will get me killed some day”.

But I got there with only a few scrapes on my legs, and the view was incredible – and I felt alive. The trip was off to a good start.

Bruny Island

One thing which always struck me in North America was the intense scent of pine trees whenever I ventured into nature. I’d never noticed the same thing with eucalyptus here in Australia – but figured either I was immune to noticing it, or that pine was simply a stronger scent. Bruny Island changed that. The smell of eucalyptus enveloped the entire island with an intense aroma, noticeable from the moment I drove off the ferry. I asked around about this, but nobody seemed to hold any insight – so it remains a mystery (or I am insane, also possible).

The island itself was incredibly stunning. Everything just seemed to shine and sparkle. I was disappointed that I didn’t manage to spot any significant wildlife, despite waking before sunrise and venturing out into the scrub. An albino wallaby would have been a thrill, as would an echidna or platypus – but nothing came. While watching sunrise at the neck point between the north and south sections I met a couple of Belgian girls who claimed to have seen penguins at that spot the day earlier. I saw nothing. Perhaps I was cursed? I gave up and went for a swim in water which was so much warmer than the air that steam was rising in front of me, and there was not a single other person in sight. Bliss.

Hobart

Really the only thing worth mentioning about Hobart is MONA. Sure, the city has a lot more to offer, but it’s the kind of stuff which would be better enjoyed with some company (food and wine for instance).

But MONA was impressive. It has to be the most fascinating art gallery in this country, full of unique ideas, thought-provoking works and captivating spaces. The museum itself, and the way visitors move through, is all part of the experience. And once you’re done with the art, you can sit in the garden and listen to some live music while knocking back several Moo Brew Anotherberry Sours as I did.

Words can’t do it justice; it really has to be experienced.

Port Arthur

I pulled into Port Arthur around two in the afternoon, hungry as hell and in need of something to eat. The area isn’t exactly sprawling with options, and that time of day is already too late for most – but there was a pub which I thought might have something to eat so I parked my car and marched on it.

I walked in to see eight eyeballs pointed firmly in my direction. Three men were sat at the bar, facing away with their heads turned to the doorway which my silhouette now filled, and the young woman behind the bar stood expressionless. The men looked like garden gnomes who had spent a bit too long in the sun. Their leather skin was almost indistinguishable from their jackets, their beards like steel wool. They wore faces which were just as dirty as the work boots on their feet. In that moment I was wishing I hadn’t entered, but there was no turning back now. I must have looked like Peter Pan to this Pirate Crew – my green shorts, white tee and pristine thongs shining like a light globe.

I noticed Keno on the screen and broke the ice.

“G’day fellas, who’s winning on Keno?” I asked in a volume about 10 decibels louder than usual.

“Steve just cleaned up he’ll shout you a beer!” one of the men replied, which set off a conversation. I sat at the bar, ordered a burger, and washed it down with a beer I had not planned on drinking, but enjoyed in order to fit in. I had a brief chat with all of them, witnessing the casual sexism directed in the direction of the bartender – followed by her even more masterful return serves.

Shortly before I finished my burger, a man walked through the door and I became the newest member of the bar team, turning around as the light in the room darkened – the sunlight from the doorway being the brightest source of light, now filled by a man dressed in chinos and a crisp long-sleeved striped shirt and glasses. All that was missing was someone asking “Where’s Wally?”.

“Oh, um. Do you have food?” he asked. “Never mind” he added, as he left before anyone had the chance to respond, and I pretended that I had not been the exact same man just half an hour earlier.

Port Arthur was a lot more fascinating than I had anticipated. The area is dedicated to its convict history first and foremost. The tragic events of 1996 (which is also how they reference the event) are a footnote. The site of the Broad Arrow Cafe, now a garden, made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

The convict history, and the former prison buildings were all really well preserved and I wandered around with the attitude of “when in Rome” but quickly found myself fascinated. Growing up in Australia, convict history is so engrained that it can be easy to glaze over and switch off. But I exist in this country thanks to the presence of these prisoners, so it carries a little more weight. It’s hard to imagine such brutality occurring amidst so much beauty.

Freycinet and The Bay of Fires

The approach to Freycinet had me craning my neck as its mountains started to peek above the treeline and the bay in front of them sparkled and flashed between tree trunks like a zoetrope. I pulled in for a coffee at a berry farm to take it all in (along with some incredible blackberries, which we all know is king of the berries).

The sight of crystal-clear water lapping cleanly against rock with no moss or sand momentarily took me back to Lake Powell, one of the most alien places I’ve ever been (and part of one of my favourite trips ever). That place, however, was in the middle of the desert. Freycinet was dense with gum trees which I found myself immediately hiking through to access Wineglass Bay.

There’s a childlike excitement I still get on the journey to a beach with a long approach. Wineglass Bay is only accessible via a walk over Mount Mayson – or in my case, a thirty-minute run. At the top of the mountain, you’re treated to a great view of the beach with its sparkling turquoise water and blinding white sand. From there the excitement builds as the water gets closer and the perspiration builds. I jumped straight into the water as soon as I got there. The best swims are earned.

And it was so good I did it all again the following day, before heading out to Launceston via Derby. I squeezed in a stop to the floating sauna at Lake Derby on my last day and thoroughly enjoyed it. After a little bit of confusion finding the place (hard to get angry over when its seclusion part of the appeal), I spent an hour moving between the wood-fired (the smell!) sauna and swims in the lake. A perfect way to end things, although if I ever find myself back in Derby I’ll be hiring a mountain bike cause the tracks there look terrific.

The Gripes

There were a few issues with this journey – first, the trip was about three days longer than it needed to be. I suppose this is something that can only truly be determined in hindsight, but there were periods where I found myself bored and having to kill time. When travelling alone, I prefer to be go-go-go – to the point where I can sometimes stretch myself a little too thin. There were still days like that, but other days left me frustrated. I took the time to slow down, do some reading, drawing, writing or simply “existing” – but I became keener to head home with each passing day.

Which brings me to the second issue – on the third day on the road, I passed a truck. The truck threw some pebbles my way. One of the pebbles hit my windscreen. The windscreen cracked with a twenty-centimetre L-shape right next to the rear-view mirror. My initial reaction was cool and calm, straight from the gospel of Shit Happens, and I reflected on how good it was to not have to stress about such things. But as the days progressed the crack slowly grew, agitated by the poor condition of the roads. If the moon landing was staged, then they filmed it on a Tasmanian road. So many bumps and holes, and every bump had me checking the crack, its L-shape glaring back at me like a highschooler making the “loser” sign on their forehead. It affected my plans as I avoided rough dirt roads and four-wheel drive tracks.

And my fellow road users did not help. Passing trucks naturally caused grief, but I’ve always loathed them. It was the dudes with their lives in tow who were the real enemy. Every second car which passed was a white Toyota Hilux. It was like the semi-trailer from Steven Spielberg’s Duel – a villain on the horizon at every turn. Every Hilux was driven by a man carting all of his worldly possessions like an Egyptian pharaoh hauling his pyramid along the road behind him. Khufu in his Hilux with his great pyramid. No wonder the roads are chopped to shit.

But the final thing was the biggest surprise of all – solo travel just wasn’t cutting it this time. Gone was the sense of freedom and independence which accompanied my incredible Utah and Florida trips. In the past, I’ve had moments where I had wished someone was with me, but it never bothered me, as it did here. I’ve long known that cities are more difficult when alone – when you want to try restaurants and bars, art galleries and “culture”; whereas nature can be enjoyed equally well. The hikes were most enjoyable for this reason, but even there I was missing something. Perhaps it’s just the familiarity of “Australia”, or perhaps this phase of life has run its course.

There was a moment when I checked into a tiny house in Freycinet National Park and found a free bottle of champagne along with a telescope set up on the back porch and thought “my life is wasted on me”.

(Didn’t stop me from downing half the bottle and doing some stargazing and astrophotography)

So often the decision comes down to travelling solo, or not at all. Solo travel will always trump travel with the wrong person, and in the absence of the right one, the equation typically falls on going it alone.

Some great memories were made, mountains were climbed, and incredible sights were seen, but I don’t need alone time. And with my “pandemic home journey PTSD” now a distant memory, I’m keen for the next one to be overseas.

(I’m also not keen to do that Geelong-to-Sydney drive home in one day again. Five coffees and a red bull, Christ)

Hobart

31 December 202223 January 2023

2022: Light and Dark, at Once

To die for your country does not win a war
To kill for your country is what wins a war

Brooke DiDonato (aka, me on the beach after the work Christmas party)

In my final week of work for the year I was working at home as per usual, when all of a sudden my vision became blurry. It was as though I had accidentally caught a glimpse of the sun, and for a moment had a blind spot – although I hadn’t been outside in hours. I sat down for a moment and closed my eyes, waiting for it to pass. The light was still bright with my eyelids clenched. A kaleidoscope of bright geometric rainbow colours filled my vision. Within a few minutes I could no longer see my monitor. I lay down in the dark for twenty minutes – nothing changed. It took two hours for my vision to return.

I later discovered that this is known as a “migraine aura” – something I had never heard of before. A migraine aura has nothing to do with the eyes, only the brain. Essentially the brain shuts down. It was a little confronting, but in a roundabout way ultimately incredibly relieving. My mind looked after itself.

It was also very emblematic of the year – Light and dark, at once.

There were a lot of ups and downs this year – successes which came with a catch, disappointments which came with a silver lining. I worked way too much this year. I received a promotion which re-energised my enthusiasm for work, but then got caught doing a lot of overtime. Following two years of being locked up inside from a pandemic, to then spend a third locked inside working was especially painful.

But all that work also meant a lot of overtime pay – most of which I have thrown on the mortgage to put me in striking distance of clearing the thing in the next couple years.

The return to office life has come as a great relief for my sanity. I gained a lot of new friends – and some of them have quickly grown to be some of my closest mates.

I managed to find a couple of pockets of good weather within months of La Nina downpours and explored Lord Howe Island and South East Queensland – both of which were incredible.

Definitely returning to Lord Howe Island again some time

The typical refrain seems to that the 2020’s have gotten worse with each year that passes. I’m inclined to disagree. This year was undoubtedly an improvement. The power dynamic between generations has finally shifted from the over-60s to the under-40s and I can’t see that being anything but good for society as that shift becomes even more pronounced in the years to come.

Music

I wanna be the shoelace that you tie

There are no surprises in the yearly playlist if you’ve been following the monthly ones. Jockstrap and Big Thief‘s new releases were my most played albums. And that Black Midi one satisfied my appetite for a bit of crunch.

I did the sloppy Splendour in the Grass, and the drizzly Harvest Rock. Khruangbin easily proved to be the best gig of the year between the two festivals, which came as a huge surprise. I’ve not seen a gig like that in a long time – an hour-long jam session where their own tracks were bridged together with classic guitar riffs like Wicked Game and Spandau Ballet’s True. I’m keen for even more live music in the new year, but I think I’m festival’d out for the time being.

Agnes Obel was the overall top gig. Absolutely incredible to witness live.

Khruangbin

Streams

My regular movie and series reviews on this old thing were another casualty of having more of a life this year (along with more work). My abundance of screen time at work also reduced my desire for spending too much of my free time doing the same thing. I can’t say I really have any “top movies” since I saw so few and even fewer stuck with me. But the world of long form series continues to be where quality lies.

Severance was the most inventive and visually unique series I’ve seen in a while. In many ways it reminded me of the best elements of Lost (mysteries aplenty).

The final season of Better Call Saul hit the mark and then some. Easily the best written show of the past decade in my eyes, it may very well exceed its predecessor Breaking Bad as the better show.

And second season of The White Lotus was some good fun, albeit not as fresh as the first time around.

That’s it for the year. Back at the end of January.

7 October 202223 January 2023

Ear Candy 2022.10 – Do Not Reply

Grief is just love with nowhere to go

We’re on the downward slide now for 2022, with a BANGIN’ month of tunes, and winter (all too) slowly coming to an end. First off, that Jockstrap album is absolutely incredible, and may be my favourite of the year when everything is said and done (with Big Thief a close second). It just takes left turns all over the place but all gels together. Whether it be the Fiery Furnaces-esque Angst, the chaotic Concrete Over Water, the middle-eastern flavoured Debra, the haunting Lancaster Court, or the depth of Glasgow and What’s It All About.

And the video below for ME vs ME is fantastic (AI artwork by Sefa Kocakalay). It’s hard to find many music videos anymore which grab my attention. In the age of streaming it’s become a bit of a lost artform, so it’s always a delight when one shows up. Almost makes me want to make one of my own, but alas, I spend too much time on a computer as it is and I’d rather be outside.

This is just fantastic

4 September 20225 November 2022

Ear Candy 2022.09 – Strategic Ambiguity

Ain’t no change in the weather
Ain’t no change in me

Two years ago today I arrived back in Australia. In the dark of night, tired and relieved like never before I touched down in Perth on a plane with only 18 other passengers. I’m still supremely grateful to be back. The months which immediately preceded it were immensely stressful, and the months before that were incredibly bleak. Isolation in a hotel room for two weeks came as such a relief. And the weeks which followed, out on the open roads of Western Australia were so good it felt like a dream.

If this were a CG render someone would request that the highlight on the water be removed.

Spring has sprung, but Sydney is still too goddamn cold. I’m well and truly over it. Bring on the oven roasting temperatures so I can leap out of bed full of beans. I want to (metaphorically) leave the isolation hotel room again. Summer days aren’t just longer because of the Earth’s tilt. They’re longer cause you don’t spend four times as long doing everything. Shorts, shirt, thongs – BAM! You’re good to roll.

But while I wait, I’ll get sunshine in my ears with these tunes.

9 July 202223 January 2023

Ear Candy 2022.07 – Neighbours

If you’re waiting for a hug you might want to pack a lunch

This month is all about Neighbours – the one next door you love bumping into for a chat, the one above that wakes you in the night screaming for help (all worked out well), and the desk neighbour in the office who lingers around seemingly unable to take a hint.

The last month has been a bit of a struggle finding new music to grab my attention, but there’s still plenty in here I am vibing with. P.E. remind me a lot of YACHT. The rest of the album is worth a spin. As is the album Excess from Automatic. Tobacco‘s take on Hungry Eyes has been a favourite for some time. It really brings out the creepier nature of the original’s lyrics.

July brings the return of international live music in its biggest way since 2020. The last gig I attended was The Strokes bringing in that fateful year during New Years Eve in Brooklyn. It’s only fitting that I see them again as one of my first concerts after all this mess.

4 June 20225 November 2022

Ear Candy 2022.06 – Hope Springs Eternal

Fee-fi-fo-fum
I smell the wind of a changing heart

That old election thing is finally over and suddenly the future seems brighter. Easily the most satisfying and pleasing result I have witnessed in my life. It felt like the power was finally shifting generations. The schadenfreude of watching grubby seat-warmers fall one by one. The fremdschämen of watching legacy media collectively lose their minds, unable to comprehend what was happening (obvious to anyone who had paid attention).

Anyway, here’s the music! A couple of old classics – opening with the rising sun and closing with it fading into winter. Kikagaku Moyo has been such a delightfully bizarre find. Their album Kumoyo Island is well worth a listen. Chem Bath is a bit of Unknown Mortal Orchestra-meets-MGMT, and I love it. Egyptian Cadilliac will stick in your head, as will the relentless drums in Welcome To Hell. Crank it up loud, Australia.

6 March 202228 November 2022

Lord Howe Island – A Short Trip Back in Time

A worthy consolation prize for a cancelled Tassie road trip

It was with great reluctance that I cancelled the road trip of Tasmania which I’d been planning for most of the year prior. Locked down for five months last year, I dreamed of the eventual relief and freedom at the end.

Then Omicron got in the way.

There’s every chance I could have proceeded without drama. No government rules or restrictions were stopping me – but case numbers and supply chain issues took away any sense of confidence. The worst case scenario could have stranded me and cost a fair chunk of coin too. But it was the best case scenario which caused me to cancel. Even at best, the experience wouldn’t have been the same. So I saved the apple isle for another year, and found myself another isle a little closer to home – Lord Howe Island.

A two-hour flight from Sydney in a Dash-8 was all it took to get there. Plus, it’s under the jurisdiction of NSW so I didn’t even have to worry about crossing state borders. I touched down, checked into my accommodation (they don’t use locks, keys or room numbers), hired a bike and set off cruising around. Cycling is easily the best way to get around. Bikes outnumber cars, and the speed limit for motor vehicles is 25km/h so you share the roads with ease. Bike racks are sprinkled across the entire 12km stretch of the island – and again – no locks are required. Going for a hike and don’t want to carry everything? Leave it in the bike basket. It’ll be right where you left it when you return. Only 400 people are allowed on the island at any one time, so it keeps the place pristine and honest.

Furthermore, there is no mobile coverage on Lord Howe Island, which only added to the charm and makes it the perfect place to disconnect from the world. Old Telstra phone booths are sprinked across the island if you need to make a free local call to book a tour or dinner. I probably hadn’t used a phonebooth in 20 years prior to this trip!

It’s also a bird lovers paradise. With no natural predators, the unique birdlife has no reason to fear people – to the point where you sometimes had to be careful not to step on a nest, or worse, a bird. Banyan trees and Forky trees dominate the landscape.

I love sea stack. This side of the island reminded me a little of the Oregon coast

There were no shortage of bushwalks either, only a shortage of time. So I ended up running around like a madman squeezing in as many of them as I could (which left me aching for three days upon my return home). The biggest of all was the trek up Mt Gower – 875 metres through the clouds and mud at a steep incline, including sections of rope climbing. Unfortunately the cloud cover at the top was too dense to witness the rewarding view, but a lower vantage point offered spectacular sights regardless.

Much like the bird life, the fish were not afraid to say hello, coming right up to the shoreline at Ned’s Beach. The hut by the beach has food if you’re keen to give them a feed. Coral and Turtles were also sights on offer on the other side of the island, but I didn’t have my camera for that day.

Unfortunately the weather further out to sea didn’t sync up to enable me to see Ball’s Pyramid up close – but I suppose that’s just one more reason to return.

Right up to your feet!

12 January 202223 January 2023

Republic Model Proposal

I’ve been a member of the Australian Republic Movement for some time now. My support of the idea has never wavered, but my belief in the prospect of getting it done has. So, it’s good to finally see some movement to the Movement.

The ARM has announced their new proposed model. It’s good to finally see it released. I’ve contributed thoughts, time, and support to the development of this proposal over the last two years. I’m delighted to see that a lot of my opinions have been accommodated here. In particular:

The word “President” has been removed from all of the material, with a title yet to be determined. For many people with a limited understanding of the system, the word President will trigger images of a US system. Even though this couldn’t be further from the truth, language is an important shorthand to get messages across. I’m still hoping for a unique Australian title, perhaps derived from a First Nations language.
The new Head of State would not be allowed to circumvent legislation (which the royal family are currently allowed to do). Just because they don’t, doesn’t mean they won’t. Convention is becoming less conventional.
The PM (a position not currently mentioned in the constitution) would no longer be able to unilaterally sack the Head of State, as they can currently do to the Governor-General. The parliament would be empowered to do so in extreme circumstances.
Given the above, it improves the current system in practical ways, not just symbolic.

I’m well aware this topic is not top of mind for most people right now who are battling the clusterfuck of piss-poor lazy government – struggling to get food, RATs, vaccines. But the Queen, who is 95, will not be around much longer, and soon enough her son will take over. The idea of continuing with this foreign unaccountable celebrity family at the top of the chain is ludicrous. The system is broken.

The full proposal is explained here.

8 January 20228 January 2022

Bushwalks to Beaches

After two months of bullshit rain and cold temps, the Christmas / New Year break really turned on the weather, and since it couldn’t be spent at the pub or with friends thanks to Omicron, I took the opportunity to get out and do some trails and find a beach away from the crowds.

Resolute Beach Loop Trail

First, I went north into Ku-ring-gai Chase National Park to west head. I’m mostly certain I’ve not been to this part of the park before and it seems I’ve been missing out. Resolute Beach is one of my new favourites. Good bushland too, and good to see everyone having fun in the water.

Palm Jungle loop track

Next I headed south into Royal National Park, getting up pre-dawn and hitting the road to get in there before the expected crowds. I was parked at Garawarra Farm at 7am and hit the trail. This trail had it all – eucalyptus scrubland, “jungle” palm tree bush, grassland and beach.

The morning light was crisp and bright, and the temperature climbed rapidly. I got to Burning Palms Beach by 9am and jumped straight into the water. There’s nothing quite like that feeling you get when the beach peeks between the trees of the trail in front of you.

30 April 202115 May 2022

Bungled the Weekend

Friday morning I awoke. Only a day earlier I had been informed that I had the day off, having finished my latest show early. My newly-minted long weekend was forecast to have perfect Autumn weather, and I had no plans. Suffering from weather-guilt, I had to ensure I made the most of it.

Now, most places in the 2-3 hour radius of Sydney I’ve seen a bunch of times. It doesn’t make them any less amazing, but I was craving new sights and new hikes. Warrumbungle National Park (6 hours west of Sydney) had long been on my list of places to check out, but the distance had always landed it in the too-hard basket. But not this weekend!

At 8:30am I decided I would do a three-day loop out to Coonabarabran, down to Dubbo, then back to Sydney via Mudgee and Lithgow. By 9:30 I had departed.

Silo art projects are found in abundance in NSW

I’m glad I made the effort. The journey (once out of Sydney) was a breeze. Podcasts, tunes, and a new audio book kept my ears entertained while the road provided the visuals. As I approached Coonabarabran I noticed a scale solar system started dotting the roadside. I’d come for the hike, but the stargazing opportunities were an unexpected delight. It’s easy to see why so many observatories are set up in town – the sky is incredible, thanks to the lack of light pollution. I visited one of them and was treated to an impressive show (and the most powerful laser pointer I’ve ever seen – somehow it reached the sky??).

The highlight (and main goal) of the trip was the Breadknife and Grand High Tops walk. This is the main loop in Warrumbungle National Park, offering views of all the “bungles”. The guide suggested it would take 5-6 hours – “five if you’re fit” said the lady at the visitor centre. I was done in three, and I spent a lot of time taking photos and little detours off the track. Climbing up mountains really is my happy place.

Dubbo was really just a rest stop. I did have a quick look at the zoo – but all it did was confirm what I already knew – that I really find zoos incredibly boring. I did see some Galapagos tortoises doing some slow-motion banging though which was quite the sight.

The drive home was incredibly picturesque, and it got me thinking. We really don’t value the journey enough as part of the experience in this country. There were so many spots I wanted to pull up and take in the scenery, but the roadside failed me. It’s one thing America does really well and we could seek to emulate that a little by sprinkling a few more scenic lookouts along the roadsides of our beautiful country.