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13 - 21st August - Vintner's Secret Vineyard, 2nd Phase
- Assembling markets, Childers and a MOUNTAIN, with aid of an Allen key
And so a mere three days after we left we found ourselves back on a southbound Greyhound, heading towards Childers and Vintner's secret vineyard. Only we didn't right away as the Greyhound was a good half hour late, giving a goon (very, very cheap wine-flavoured alcohol) swigging 'character' plenty of time to impart his life story onto me...always a pleasure...and for some reason always happening to me! As the bus stopped for a food break in Apple Tree Creek I contemplated walking the rest of the journey (recall it is only another three minutes to Childers) but was convinced by the steepness of the road to sit in the dreary roadside cafe and suck on a small packet of fruit-flavoured sweets, the only thing I could afford with the small change in my pocket, the forty minutes until we drove those three minutes and, at long last, we were in Childers once more. Greyhound, it really is the only way to travel.
We had a look around Childers itself, and again later in the week when Liz went into town to get here hair cut. It's a very small, if very attractive, place so we really don'y need a third visit, or even a 2nd really. There was one main street that we walked up and down with a decent number of cafes, none of which we went into. There was a post office that Liz maliciously (OK, accidentally) stole an envelope from and far too many op (charity) shops than is probably healthy. We also went into the town art gallery / backpackers fire memorial (15 backpackers died when the Palace backpackers burnt down here in 2000), which was small but interesting enough and provided an aerial summary of the one street from its veranda. Both times we walked back to the vineyard, which a sign suggested was a 2k walk but which I would have said was closer. There are worse ways to spend time than walking down the grassy side of quiet, beautiful country roads in the midday sun.
It was good to arrive back at the vineyard, its been far too long since we've arrived at a place where all our cloths are already in a cupboard! A quick inspection proved that the hammock was in good health, I had been a little worried.
The main work project for my week was putting together some flatpack shelving and then moving this into the cafe. There were two of the same set to assemble, not difficult to guess which took longer. Although hardly a complex engineering challenge it was still a good feeling once they were built and in place, needless to say I couldn't have done it without my trusty assistant senior Allen key. The other work was a series of small taks - taking down some lights by the pool, watering and cutting back plants, blowing (using a blower) leaves et al off the paved areas, raking leaves, planting strawberrys, mulching the veggie garden, painting inside of a window in one of the cafes toilets and giving the guest bathroom a once over before we left. So, though there was the lack of a big task like the pruneing from our first stint, I still think we got a decent ammount done.
One morning we headed down to the markets in Apple Tree Creek. These have apparently gone a bit downhill since a change in managment but were still well worth a wander around, it was mostly local fruit and veg produce, handmade hobby fare and the odd clothing stall. We ran into some people running a stall that we'd just met at Blue Gum Grove a few days before...small country! There was also a bit of livestock on offer, including a lot of chickens, though it was a small bird that made the journey back with us, a companion for the one they already had.
Hmm...what else happened...chai tea in the cafe...hammock...Liz made both scone and muffins...plus we half-celebrated the occasion of surviving each others company for a year (though proper celebration has been held off till Brisbane)...we watched some TV...grew sick of election adverts...and...erm..and...oh yeah...
Climbed a mountain.
It was called mount Woowoonga and we were taken by a friend of our hosts called Warren. There was a hint at how hard it would be the day beforehand, when he swung by to let us choose out walking poles (cruely interupting me from once again sowing up my bag..I may burn it upon my return home)...a casual stroll in a NP this was not. It took us a half hour to drive out, along a crazily winding road, past a sign proclaiming 'Alpacas for sale' and, as we got close, hundreds of cattle grazing either side of the road, and on occasion bang slap in the centre of it...they looked gormlessly at the approacing car for a few seconds, as if asleep, then would seemingly wake up with a jolt and scurry out of the way. A bad place to speed through, basically.
We parked at the base of the mountain, which Warren had pointed out from the car to an 'oh **** that's big' internal monologue...it looked even bigger stood right underneath it.. Better get started then...the track was divided into two sections, the first being an 800m gently sloping climb, nothing too dramatic but still enough to work up a sweat and begin to feel gratitude to the pole. After a momentary stop on a bench we embarked on the 2nd section, a constantly and increasingly steep grade 4 (whatever that means) one km track, rather worryingly with a sign at the start cautioning that this was 'for experienced bush walkers only.' Well, I used to walk to work and back...that's close right?
Despite Warren noting that the parks people had been in and cleaned up the track since he was last here (training to walk the kokoda track, at one point he was walking to the top and back four times a day!) this was really, really hard. There would have been no way we could have made do without the poles, such was the unending steepness. I could feel my muscles burning, heart pounding its protest loudly and thick sweat massing around the circumfrence of my hat. We stopped fairly often, at one point spotting the nearby town of Biggenden down below us, but kepy pushing on and on...and on and on. After what felt like a minor eternity Warren jovially announced that we were only five minutes from the top...and that all of this would be drastically steep. It was...but we got through it anyhow.
The view from the top was amazing, with green forests flowing unyieldingly into the distance, small details being jetisoned ever more the further you looked, until the were lost entirely and all that remained was a distant green blur...it would probably have been all the more impressive had I brought my glasses with me! We took some photos perched on the rocks, not too close to the edge!, had a brief snack bar stop, did a bit more walking across and back to another mountain top that was relatively easier (AKA I didn't feel totally like I was about to die doing it) and then were faced with the prospect of heading back down. This was more a test of balance than stamina and as such was speedy and less tireing, even if I did almost fall over about a hundred times. And once actually...but lets not talk about that!
The animals seemed to have woken up since our ascent, during which we'd heard birds but seen nothing. A massive spider, nonfussed Eastern Brown Snake and, best of of, a Goanna, which is a type of massive lizard. Also some cane toads...there really is no escape from them unfortuantly!
We arrived back at the base of the mountain...we'd made it! It had taken us around four hours there and back...I didn't feel it quite yet but tiredness would hit before long. Before that had a chance to happen we had some lunch of a bench beside the car park (in which Warrens car remained the only one) and then he showed us some bushcraft things likes how to work out NSEW and how to build a chair and also showed us some aboriginal stuff he had collected over the years. He also showed us how to make rope and made us the kind gift of a mock aboriginal male inituation artifact that makes a whirling sound when spun. The whole day spoke of his extreem kindness, he had no reason to offer to take us out or show us any of these things (unless he desperatly wanted a break from baling hay!) and I was left feeling very gratful as the tirdeness slammed upon me and I fought to stay awake of the drive back.
...and then come Saturday morning we were driven to the bus stop in Childers and jumped on the Greyhound heading south once more, weighted down only by good memories and a bottle of wine. It was sad to go, especially reflectin that we'll realistically not be here again for a very long time if ever, but ultimatly it was only sad to leave because it had been so great to be there...so, really, is that cause for sadness?
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