Day 42 - Tuesday at Wye.

It was a fine morning.
Once again the sunshine was leaning on the patio doors of our bedroom.
“Open the curtains and let me in” it called. “No, I’ll come out the other door” I answered. Margaret grunted and turned round to face the wall.
Does anyone know what this song is? The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes. My version goes like this in the morning. The kettle is glowing, a new day awakes, time for some coffee, and maybe some tray bakes.
This is going to be a non hurried sort of day. We have decided Margaret will choose the destination.

Yes dear reader. Today would be a day of surprises, and I imagine a series of very short drives. Well, compared to the drives I’d pick.

First destination is the lovely Sheoak Falls. These had a mere two hundred steps, and because we’d no rain for a few days were not terribly impressive. A bit like a Yorkshire pudding, nice to look at, but no real body to them. Still it’s all about the exercise.

We drove a little further and found the impressive Erskine Falls. This baby has 315 steps and we found it very hard going getting back up. Do you realise that when we visit these falls, there is always a path leading down to their bases. It is usually very steep in places, it is in a humid wee rain forest, and it’s always a challenge.

Here’s an ould saying by Voltaire:

If we do not find anything very pleasant, at least we shall find something new.

He was writing about travel and adventures as well.

That’s all very well, but he wasn’t travelling with Margaret. Our next stop was to be a wee beaut.

Really.

The Split Point Lighthouse at Aireys Inlet.
Aireys Inlet is another of the small villages that hug the coast. I would love to have seen how everything was sixty or so years ago. It’s that kind of place. It has a lovely feel to it. So much so in fact, that when we reached the top of the hill on which the lighthouse sits, Margaret’s emotions got the better off her and she went for a quick pee in the bushes. I know this because much to her dismay, I captured the moment on camera. It must be ok because her ma never mentioned anything when I accidently showed her the picture on our TV later in the year!
It’s all part of the experience don’t you know.

Lovely, and interesting as it all was, we had to move on.

Torquay, obviously named after the Cornish town, is also famously known for its surf beaches. This was to be our next stop.

On our way though, we found a cute wee coffee shop stroke restaurant in Anglesea.
It was run by two fine ladies that reminded me very much of the hippy generation. I almost expected them to serve us with a spliff hanging from their mouths. Clearly they didn’t nor wouldn’t, but that’s what was in my head, and now it’s in print. So there. The coffee was a joy. Margaret’s breakfast was large and filling so we never ate anything, even though it was past lunch time. I wonder if I’m really losing weight?

The surf wasn’t up; in fact the sea was quite becalmed. This however didn’t stop the intrepid surfers, all of which looked as though they were at the intermediate stage of their past time. Not that I’d know, I just can’t imagine a real surf head being out in one foot waves!

Another couple of holiday snaps and we decided to bin Torquay in sake of another surf resort on the way back. It was around the headland so maybe they’d have better waves and something better to hold our attention for five minutes.

They didn’t.

Down here, when you look out to sea, there is nothing to be seen between where you stand and Antarctica.
Except the sun as it dips its feet in the salty brine.
It had a toe in, so we decided enough was enough.

I’d made a big pot of Bollo yesterday, so tonight we’d feast on spag boll. I’d feed the parrots, watch for the koala and listen out for the laughter that is the Kookaburra’s song.

Winter Olympics, a few tinnies and bed.

My God. It doesn’t get much better than this.

Goodnight.