10/04/2023 Things You See Along the Highway

"Griffith is where Donald Mackay was murdered!" Roger informed me brightly.  "By the mafia, back in 1979."  He's a font of useful information, I must say.

The morning was crispy cold so there was no incentive to get going early, particularly as we didn't have far to go.  We went for a quick spin around Griffith on the way out of town, discovering that Griffith's other claim to fame (apart from murderous mafia) was being designed by Walter Burley Griffin back in 1914, barely 3 years after he cut his teeth on Canberra's design.  This explained why Griffith had wide circular streets with broad avenues radiating out in an octagonal arrangement, hiding it's public buildings behind bushland and gardens just like Canberra.

Not far out of Griffith we happened upon Yenda, sporting a fine collection of shabby old buildings with important facades, detailed tile work, and advertisements from many years ago.

Flour and tea, staples back in the day.

Yenda was soon eclipsed by Barellan which gave us a direct hit of excitement in the form of the Big Tennis Racquet.

In case you were wondering why: Yvonne Goolagong grew up in Barellan, that's why.

Further down the highway, in Ardlethan a merry band of three Driver Reviver volunteers braved the cold wind, bringing succor and rest to traveling motorists.  They huddled behind a plastic windbreak tied precariously to the poles of their picnic shelter in the local park.  Just as we arrived a bright lady in a red jumper turned up, bearing large tupperware containers.  "Here's the scones!" she announced.  "They're just out of the oven! Eat them while they're warm."

Well, seeing you forced me...

We sat, drank tea, and ate scones with jam and cream.  Over the road people paid for coffee and cake at the local cafe but I bet they didn't get half the company and good conversation to which we were privy.  Sadly, the volunteers informed us that the Driver Reviver site was likely to close.  The volunteers were all old and getting older, and the number of cars stopping diminished year by year - something to do with having to turn off the highway to be revived, and the increased comfort and range of cars reducing the drivers' perceived need for fatigue-busting Driver Reviver stops, and possibly the fact that no-one  knows about the scones unless they arrive at scone o'clock which varies every day according to the schedule of the lady in the red jumper. Expressing regret for the passing of an era, we filled out the visitor's book and trundled on to Temora.

North of Temora we spent the afternoon eating a full roast dinner with Mrs F, she of Maleny fame back at the start of this blog.  If anything she'd gotten to be an even better cook and as a bonus we met her Mum and went for a ride around the farm.  We met cows, admired new fencing, and appreciated good pasture, all before we had to return to Temora to settle into our cabin.  Alas, work called.  Also alas, the phone reception at our cabin was terrible and promised challenges for gainful employment on the following day. 

Temora had a very attractive flour mill.

 

I wandered down to the airport (yes, we camped at the airport but more about that tomorrow) to watch the sun set, and chatted to Mr and Mrs Happy who were sitting in their deck chairs enjoying a glass of wine.  "It's our 42nd wedding anniversary!" he announced with pride.  She rolled her eyes: "47th!!"  He conceded that she was right but what was 5 years here or there anyway?  "We're planning to do up our bus and travel full time when I retire," he confided.  "But it isn't done up yet.  There's nothing in it but a mattress on the floor.  We call it our tin tent."

The sunset was... brief.

 I bet that tin tent was cold at night. I went back to the cabin and turned on the heater, glad that I wasn't in a tin tent. Or a fabric tent, for that matter.  That would come soon enough.