(no subject)
Yesterday I decided to escape the rain and the city and drove to Canberra to see my mum and sister. I got up at four, left sydney at five, and drove through Yanderra, Picton, Yerrinbool, Hill Top, Alpine, Moss Vale, Exeter, Bundanoon, Penrose, Tallong, Wingello, Bungonia, Tarago, and Queanbeyan. The southern highlands is beautiful once you get out of the bigger towns. I took the Old South Road from Yerrinbool which bypasses Bowral and Moss Vale and gets you out into the bush. An eclectic mix of abandoned houses, stately manor houses, and trashy contemporary mansions (built in the mcmansion style, but full size).
At one point, near Exeter, I pulled over, and just let the seven am silence wash over me, I heard a leaf fall about fifty metres away. The air was wet with fog and due, but not humid, because it was cold. That ten minutes I sat there rejuvenated me more than 16 hours of sleep. At another point near Tallong, I drove down to Badgery's Lookout, over the Shoalhaven river. The valley was full of fog, so standing on the edge of the lookout was like standing at the edge of everything. Nothing but fog, no horizon, no sounds crossed that barrier. Beautiful.
I visited Bungonia, the village that infrastructure forgot. Bypassed by the railway, it forgot to develop beyond it's 1860s level, and there it's remained. The anglican church is well kept, with gardens, but the catholic church looks like a relic from an earlier civilisation. I contemplated breaking in, but kept on going. Roadworks near Exeter had covered my car in white mud, and the driveway to the catholic church complemented it with shades of brown.
Between Bungonia and Lake Bathurst, I saw Lake Bathurst for the first time. I didn't realise how close to Tarago it is, because whenever I've headed that way before it's been dry. On the edge of the lake is a huge old brick shed, with steal S-Bars penetrating the brickwork to stop the walls spreading.
The root I took reflects the path I want to ride when I ride my bike from Sydney to Cooma... So I'll visit all those abandoned buildings then.
In Queanbeyan I got lost on a detour because they'd shut the main street for the anzac day.
I found Mum and Karina at the Hogs Breath Café in Civic, but we soon moved off and drove up Mount Ainslie and spent half the day sitting in the sun. What a beautiful morning!
After that we feasted for hours at a turkish restaurant in dickson. Expensive but very good. My mum then presented me with a box of muffins she'd cooked for me to eat on the way home. My mum is teh rad.
I stopped in at Picton on the way home to swap whippersnippers with Peter. He gave me several bottles of homebrew, and entertained me with stories of my grandfather that I hadn't heard because they were from before my mum was born. Unfortunately that meant I missed out on going to the greek church with Kitten, which I was looking forward to. But I guess I only see my family every so often... And when I do, it's brilliant.
At one point, near Exeter, I pulled over, and just let the seven am silence wash over me, I heard a leaf fall about fifty metres away. The air was wet with fog and due, but not humid, because it was cold. That ten minutes I sat there rejuvenated me more than 16 hours of sleep. At another point near Tallong, I drove down to Badgery's Lookout, over the Shoalhaven river. The valley was full of fog, so standing on the edge of the lookout was like standing at the edge of everything. Nothing but fog, no horizon, no sounds crossed that barrier. Beautiful.
I visited Bungonia, the village that infrastructure forgot. Bypassed by the railway, it forgot to develop beyond it's 1860s level, and there it's remained. The anglican church is well kept, with gardens, but the catholic church looks like a relic from an earlier civilisation. I contemplated breaking in, but kept on going. Roadworks near Exeter had covered my car in white mud, and the driveway to the catholic church complemented it with shades of brown.
Between Bungonia and Lake Bathurst, I saw Lake Bathurst for the first time. I didn't realise how close to Tarago it is, because whenever I've headed that way before it's been dry. On the edge of the lake is a huge old brick shed, with steal S-Bars penetrating the brickwork to stop the walls spreading.
The root I took reflects the path I want to ride when I ride my bike from Sydney to Cooma... So I'll visit all those abandoned buildings then.
In Queanbeyan I got lost on a detour because they'd shut the main street for the anzac day.
I found Mum and Karina at the Hogs Breath Café in Civic, but we soon moved off and drove up Mount Ainslie and spent half the day sitting in the sun. What a beautiful morning!
After that we feasted for hours at a turkish restaurant in dickson. Expensive but very good. My mum then presented me with a box of muffins she'd cooked for me to eat on the way home. My mum is teh rad.
I stopped in at Picton on the way home to swap whippersnippers with Peter. He gave me several bottles of homebrew, and entertained me with stories of my grandfather that I hadn't heard because they were from before my mum was born. Unfortunately that meant I missed out on going to the greek church with Kitten, which I was looking forward to. But I guess I only see my family every so often... And when I do, it's brilliant.