There's a hurricane between us and America. Lucky we didn't go there. A big storm hit South Australia and the Riverina is flooded so it's fortunate we changed our mind about heading there as well. But how were we to know that it is a religious holiday in Victoria in honour of their most sacred event (the AFL Grand Final) and that all the food outlets would be full?
Should have stayed back to watch our local NRL team play its first Grand Final in years? Who are you kidding? I honestly don't care. Besides which, I was born in Melbourne.
Go the Storm?
More like go into the storm.
There was blue sky as we left Sydney but we were soon beneath the grey and white mass of clouds on this cool day. With the temperature outside in single digits the rain held off for a while, but after we passed the Federal Highway turnoff the showers started. Wind turbines shrouded in mist, churning the air in the stiff winds that fought us outside.
The countryside was greener than I think I have ever seen it before, so different to the familiar dry gold. Dams overflowed, creeks spread out across the lime green grasslands where sheep, cattle, horses and even alpacas grazed.
The colour contrasted perfectly with the grey of the boulders, the bleak and lonely leafless trees on the hillsides, watching silently over the undulating landscape.
The odd field of yellow flowers, canola perhaps, brought some variation. But it was the occasional pause in the clouds that really brought the scenery to life, bright golden light breaking through the otherwise relentless gloom.
As pulled into Tarcutta, hungry from a delayed lunch, we were disappointed to discover that it was too late to dine in the Horse and Jockey, the pub where we had eaten last trip. Instead we walked up to the Tarcutta Take-Away. The interior looked bare and unloved, the odd dusty souvenir for sale, a row of leather organisers with a built in calculator. Who would buy these things from here?
A large woman served, an Indian made kebabs and fried rice. We ordered a large kids fish and chips for Alex, kebabs for B and I, and milkshakes out of big metal cups. The food was not good, but it was filling.
Then back on the road and through the showers. We bought petrol in Albury for a price cheaper than we had seen in Sydney. Crossing over the swollen River Murray we were in Victoria.
As we turned off the freeway towards Beechworth we passed a newly developed suburb of Wodonga where the houses were narrow and densly packed, surely inappropriate for this rural city.
Beechworth was one of our favourite little jaunts out of Albury when B lived there. A historic small town it is most famous for its bakery, which has now become rather commercialised with franchises in other towns. Of course we had snacks there, before returning to our motel room, the same one we stayed a few years back.
Alex was in a bad mood until we took him to the sweets shop, where he bought a pack of sours with an evil gleam in his eye.
Dinner was a more troublesome affair. Everywhere we went was booked out, so we ended up in the pizza takeaway. Even that took forever and the results were not great.
But I do not think harshly of this town. As I walked back along the dark streets, pizza box in hand, I admired the beauty of the old verandas in the lamplight, shimmering reflections off the wet streets.
And it is nice to be able to go back to your room confident that you are not missing out on precious life outside, to be able to rest after a long drive, after a long and busy term and truly take a holiday.
(I might upload some more photos later once I have a faster internet connection)
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