Au revoir, Geelong, not So Long

The drive south from Mildura is far from my favourite.  I could bear it when I worked in Mildura and left on the eve of the Labour Day long weekend to travel to Portland. Once I got to Hopetoun, I knew I was in for the pleasures of the Hs - Horsham, Hamilton and Heywood.  Not so the road to Geelong - Birchip, Donald, etc in the Mallee / Wimmera - wheat country that I find frightening.  I heard it described recently as a desert, and that is how I experienced it.  Perhaps the Gobi was too much on my mind.  Sun on the stubble does not entrance me.  I can think only of agribusiness, monoculture and supermarket ads.  The pastries (totally wheatless, I'm sure) were quickly consumed and had to provide comfort until I reached St Arnaud.  From there, the country changes and I could breathe again.  I still had to negotiate Ballarat, but I did it.  I eventually got to Geelong and tried to find the ferry berth, hoping I could change my booking and leave that night.  Of course, I was in the wrong lane of the Princes Highway in peak hour traffic when I saw the Spirit of Tasmania turn off.  First rule of life:  Don't Panic.  After a small panic, I took the next right turn and found  myself in country I had visited previously when I got lost leaving the ferry some weeks before.  Every cloud... But the boat was fully booked that night so I had to find a place to stay.  The staff at the ferry terminal were very helpful and helped me find a motel on the Princes Highway so I would have a direct run the next day.

the Rippleside Motel is classic 1960s but cheap and perfectly located (for the geographically challenged)

walking into Geelong the next day

some pretty streets

a beautiful regional art gallery - just my size

an amusing artwork

The ferry was scheduled to sail at 6.30pm and I was there waiting by 3pm having had a big day in Geelong, concluding it is a great place and needs a return trip for a few days' exploration, but taking no chances.

After a satisfying buffet dinner, I retired to my favourite recliner beside a salt stained window as the sun set

and watched the moon through much of the night.  It is only a shortish drive from Devonport to Triabunna and does not require a lot of sleep the night before.

Flowers and Bobbin are happy to be home.  Flowers is content with her old cottage, Bobbin having established a penthouse with a large deck on which they happily reminisce their latest adventure.  And plan a longer stay in Geelong and environs next time.

Paris pied à terre

I left Pearl's place earlyish, trying to beat the 40C heat.  I was gobsmacked at the new road leading north.  Who'd have thought that daggy, crowded South Road would become a concrete behemoth as it leaves the city.  At 7ish on a Saturday morning I had the road virtually to myself, but I could imagine tanks rolling in, gargantuan military hardware and goose stepping uniformed marchers.  Certainly took my mind off the forthcoming heat.

Quite a few kms out, it resumes being the highway I knew and loved as I regularly drove to and from Wentworth over 8 years ago.  It was my first opportunity to see the Riverland after the big floods.

I stopped for a look-see at Banrock Station, one of my favourite vineyards with its mud brick buildings and wetlands.  There was water as far as the eye could see, totally obliterating the 'wetlands'. The winery was in full swing with families happily breakfasting.  It was still early!  I was making good time.

My preparation for the Gobi Desert paid off and, for some reason, my non-functioning aircon managed a zephyr of cool air.  I pulled into Little Paris way ahead of schedule.

You may remember this book that I blogged about late last year.  Sandrine is a francophile who epitomises the philosophy it espouses.  She knows and uses every good thing that Mildura offers.  But it was very hot so for 2 or 3 days we did little but enjoy the airconditioned comfort of her new house.

a welcoming drink (Sandrine loves Italy too)

I got quite good at making these.

we also ate well

Flowers and Bobbin loved the art nouveau touches

I  loved my ensuite with the shower of my dreams

Sandrine walks early each morning.

I joined her later for breakfast on the terrace.

Madame S is also a garden designer.  She had the garden started well before the house was built.  The window sills provide the perfect tomato ripening ledges. I spent a wonderful cuppla days reading gardening books and the adventures of people living in Paris and on a barge in Amsterdam.

I also reacquainted  myself with this one which I had given Sandrine sometime ago just in case we never get around to the Santiago pilgrimage.  I have  now got it out of the library and am having some cunning ideas...

Of course we did venture out to cool venues sometimes.

We went to lunch at the Visitor Information Centre cum library cum aquatic centre to try their wonderful dumplings which we discovered weren't being made that day, the chef having been taken to hospital with chest pain - not food poisoning.  The panini, fortunately, were excellent as was the news that the chef is ok.

We bought breakfast pastries at Stefano's cafe where we met a man fascinated by a bum shaped peach.

Then on the Tuesday, the long anticipated drive to Wentworth to checkout our former home, Riverbank.

It is still strange to me to be in our once minimalist New York Room, now the rather frantic https://curlytree.com.au/pages/about-us .

Riverbank still looks the same from Wharf Road,

and I was very excited to meet the man converting the Wheeldons' shed into the gorgeous riverside house I always thought it could be.

We also saw the portable levee in place.  Steve and I had often wondered how this would work but the Darling never rose high enough while we lived in Wentworth.

The wharf is closed and poor John Egge sits paddling his feet.

The flood waters are now receding.

Wentworth has a rather abandoned air, admittedly it was another 40C day and people were probably bunkering down.  I got the feeling that businesses are following the  council offices and moving to Buronga / Gol Gol.  Perhaps Wentworth is becoming a riverside housing estate.

neither of these businesses are now in Wentworth

I recalled my true self,

and my true home

but not before we used up some Frangelico left by a former visitor with the instruction to mix it with lime juice and soda.  Very strange.

Also following instructions, I made a cheery toadstool from the origami pack that Pearl had given me as a farewell present, and left it with Sandrine's umbrella - rain was forecast. Once again I packed my car as though crossing the Gobi, but rain came overnight with some slightly cooler weather.  After a pit stop to pick up nourishing pastries from Stefano, I was on the road again, Geelong bound.

Picnic at Mitre 10

An intermission while I relay a story from Thursday just gone.  Steve and I were heading home from Hobart.  We stopped at the hardware shop in Sorell and Steve went in search of some Stevey sort of thing.  I stayed in my car with Jill.  I thought I could smell a sort of hot engine smell and the guy in the next car thought he could too.  I cautiously opened the bonnet.  I think I may have told you that a few months ago, while driving from Sorell to Triabunna, a long white cloud streamed from under the bonnet as I was driving and I was forced to pull over.  Somehow the radiator cap had come off.  The upshot was I had to be towed home and buy a new engine.  You can understand why I was apprehensive driving to Mildura in extreme heat.
Well, this Thursday the cap had come off again, green coolant was splashed all over the place and things did not look good.  The RACT advised yet again getting towed back to Tribes, and we waited about 3 hours for the tow truck.  We did not really have a picnic but there was plenty of time for little forages and walks for Jill.  The tow truck driver proved to be a very chatty bloke and I learned a lot about the life of a submariner.  Did you know the mariners in a sub can hear whales singing?  I was half in love with the chap by the time we got to Tribes.

Jill had a very good day.  She had the best view of the countryside from my car on the back of the truck.  And earlier she and I had re-discovered Bellerive while waiting for Steve who was having some tests in the Royal Hobart Hospital.  We decided to park at the Bellerive Battery aka The Fort.

view of Hobart and Battery Point across the Derwent River

view down D'Entrecastaux Channel - top viewing spot during the Sydney Hobart Yacht Race

I'd forgotten there's a moat around the fort

the moat's dry in some places allowing some intriguing graffiti (possibly Russian)

Jill PD and I found our way down to the road and footpath and walked towards Bellerive Beach.  It was a perfect day (given I didn't know what was to come) and there were people everywhere.

lovely to see a fisher and the blue green sea

more sea and colourful geology (for Pearl)

even more fishing with Bellerive Beach in distance

This area has been much sanitised since our Bellerive days.  There are now very civilised footpaths, viewing platforms and built stairways down to the rocks.

I was taken with the native planting - using plants I'm assembling for my own garden.

the view to Droughty Point - clouds were gathering...

I got the call from the hospital to say that Steve was ready for collecting so hurried back to the car.  There was a hold up on the bridge and we crawled along with only 1 lane open.  Thank goodness I didn't know what was going on under the car bonnet.  I'd be having conniptions. All's well that ends well.  Steve's test results are fine and my car seems fine too according to our mechanic.  Just one of those things - though the mystery of the errant radiator cap remains.

Now the Jansz wasn't to celebrate our escape from having to buy another new engine, but to celebrate Georgia's birthday on Friday.  We were even allowed to have Thai instead of pizza.

And here's a rare photo of Georgia and her children.  It was actually a sad event - the funeral of her grandmother - but these are times when families come together, and that's something to celebrate.  I love them all.  Each so different.

Au revoir chez Pearl

My time in Adelaide and just about daily visits to Mum were coming to an end.  I had bought an anniversary present for Steve in Victor Harbor and, although I had not booked my return travel, thought it would be a nice touch to actually be there on the 22nd anniversary of our wedding... But I did want to see Sandrine's new house in Mildura.  Before that, there were things that must be done.

Like, catch the train to the city and buy a banh mi at the railway station.  I saw this poster in a shop in the Adelaide Arcade and had to take a photo to send to the Floosie.  She and I have many interests in common but she abhors fantasy literature.

  I was tempted to buy a new cottage for Flowers the Maid

There was Pearl and my ritual visit to the place that can't be named.  We had a bit of a carb hit and I bemoaned the unavailability of red wine.

I took a drive to Klemzig, where our old house looked very sad.  But I was cheered by 'short eats' from the Sri Lankan grocery on OG Road, and an expensive trip to Mercato where I finally found chestnut flour and some more immediately consumable items like roast artichokes, eggplant parmigiana, Sicilian olives, panini.  You get the picture.

Pearl introduced me to a laneway garden created and maintained by a very civic minded friend of hers.  The lane runs adjacent to the friend's property.  Council had done some planting but it was not well looked after.  Pearl's friend decided to work on it.  Now other people contribute to the planting.   There is a book cupboard, shaded seating and a play area for children.  Children love to play in the fairyland (take that Floosie) and new critters and embellishments appear regularly.  

looking  up the laneway

looking down the laneway, past an enchanted Pearl

it's awful when you think you look perfectly acceptable and later realise you look like a walking blue stemmed mushroom or, possibly, Father Brown

The weather was hot and getting hotter.

One evening we went for a swim at West Beach.

it was 8pm and we were not alone

Spanish Rose had given me a book for Christmas:

I was a little scared to read it in case something awful happened to the little chap.  But I faced my fear and was rewarded with an excellent grounding for my trip to Mildura.  Why people would want to run marathons in the desert is beyond my understanding, however reading of the gruelling preparation allowed me to gather strength and resources for the 400km drive East in 40C heat.  And so, with sad goodbyes, huge gratitude and many bottles of frozen water, off I set.