To Hay I go….

Come the Easter Sunday I knew it was time to leave Forbes. Though I had loved every bit of my stay there I had to move on. I did one last session at the gym before I left, I knew it was going to be awhile before I found another one and I didn’t want to lose all the hard work I had done to strengthen my core in the meantime. An hour and a half later, I grabbed a few things from the nearby supermarket, ravaged a banana to tide me over till lunch time and headed back to the highway. Despite the excitement that I was feeling, the fatigue from the last three days in the gym was having its effect. I knew I would need to pull in for lunch and West Wyalong, about a 105kms down the road seemed just the thing. Though I had made sure to have a long, lovely shower before I left to freshen myself up, the days were still so hot out this way that I was feeling overheated again in no time. I had a bottle of water beside me and I sipped on that here and there to keep the thirst at bay, my window open and the fan pushing air through the vents. Well my old girl doesn’t have air con and to be honest, I didn’t really mind most of the time. My body was still overheated from the gym though and this was one day when I would have welcomed the coolness. No chance of getting it from outside, it was stifling. I sighed and settled in to weather the conditions, knowing full well I would cool off, it was just a matter of staying patient till I did!

I did the trip to West Wyalong in about an hour and a half, I prefer to keep the bus at around 80kms an hour unless I have to go over. She burns less diesel that way and it gives me extra time to pull up if needed. It still amazes me how many drivers pull out in front of me. I wonder sometimes if they have a brain in their heads. It should be clear that the bigger the vehicle, the longer it takes to stop. When I was being taught, my tutor who was a professional told me that legally I need to keep 6, not 3, car lengths behind any traffic. Of course that is easier said than done. Those tailgaters who I cannot see if they are too close behind mind you, take personal offence to such a large gap and do everything they can to get around me whether its safe or not, in order to fill it! Consequently I am always on full alert, which is not only very tiring but extremely stressful. The whole idea of doing what I am doing is to be able to relax! I did the trip to West Wyalong in about an hour and a half, I prefer to keep the bus at around 80kms an hour unless I have to go over. She burns less diesel that way and it gives me extra time to pull up if needed. It still amazes me how many drivers pull out in front of me. I wonder sometimes if they have a brain in their heads. It should be clear that the bigger the vehicle, the longer it takes to stop. When I was being taught, my tutor who was a professional told me that legally I need to keep 6, not 3, car lengths behind any traffic. Of course that is easier said than done. Those tailgaters who I cannot see if they are too close behind mind you, take personal offence to such a large gap and do everything they can to get around me whether its safe or not, in order to fill it! Consequently I am always on full alert, which is not only very tiring but extremely stressful. The whole idea of doing what I am doing is to be able to relax!

Anyway, I decided I couldn’t be bothered to get my own lunch so I stopped at the local roadhouse in West Wyalong, intending to order a coffee as well as food. I have to admit I didn’t fancy the coffee and the fact they didn’t have Lactose Free clinched it for me. The food though was another story and I settled a lovely meaty dish, much needed for the muscles that were greedily pushing me by now to feed them, whose price was quite economical. Would have cost me more to make it and that would take care of my main meal. I could have something easy that night; win/win as far as I was concerned. The ladies who worked in there were great, wacky sense of humour like me and genuinely liked people. You have to if you are going to be good at it. couldn’t be bothered to get my own lunch so I stopped at the local roadhouse in West Wyalong, intending to order a coffee as well as food. I have to admit I didn’t fancy the coffee and the fact they didn’t have Lactose Free clinched it for me. The food though was another story and I settled a lovely meaty dish, much needed for the muscles that were greedily pushing me by now to feed them, whose price was quite economical. Would have cost me more to make it and that would take care of my main meal. I could have something easy that night; win/win as far as I was concerned. The ladies who worked in there were great, wacky sense of humour like me and genuinely liked people. You have to if you are going to be good at it.

I decided to stop a little further up the road and make my own coffee, I didn’t want to hurt their feelings and besides it was really dusty in the parking space and I didn’t fancy gulping in dust with my coffee. I had seen a park up there and I was thinking it would most likely have some picnic tables. A coffee would be the perfect way to finish off lunch and a shady spot away from the temptation of getting back on the road too quickly would be a wonderful addition. There were indeed picnic tables there, I noted as I pulled into the ample parking spot beside it; however there were also a lot of families occupying them so it looked like I would be having my coffee in the motorhome after all. I didn’t really mind all that much. I love my bus and besides, watching the kids having fun with the extended families never fails to bring joy to my heart. I decided to stop a little further up the road and make my own coffee, I didn’t want to hurt their feelings and besides it was really dusty in the parking space and I didn’t fancy gulping in dust with my coffee. I had seen a park up there and I was thinking it would most likely have some picnic tables. A coffee would be the perfect way to finish off lunch and a shady spot away from the temptation of getting back on the road too quickly would be a wonderful addition. There were indeed picnic tables there, I noted as I pulled into the ample parking spot beside it; however there were also a lot of families occupying them so it looked like I would be having my coffee in the motorhome after all. I didn’t really mind all that much. I love my bus and besides, watching the kids having fun with the extended families never fails to bring joy to my heart.

I think maybe the coffee was that straw that broke the camel’s back, at least that is what I am assuming because I was suddenly feeling very bloated and not in the mood to drive. Well, it was only 1pm so I could afford to read on the bed for ten or twenty minutes before setting off again. Yeah well we all know what happens when you lie down with a bloated belly and read lol. The next thing I knew it was an hour later! Oh no, I thought, flustered now and concerned I wouldn’t make my destination that day. Well I was right on that count. My sense that my body would rebel was also right as it turned out! I think maybe the coffee was that straw that broke the camel’s back, at least that is what I am assuming because I was suddenly feeling very bloated and not in the mood to drive. Well, it was only 1pm so I could afford to read on the bed for ten or twenty minutes before setting off again. Yeah well we all know what happens when you lie down with a bloated belly and read lol. The next thing I knew it was an hour later! Oh no, I thought, flustered now and concerned I wouldn’t make my destination that day. Well I was right on that count. My sense that my body would rebel was also right as it turned out!

Those trucks that had been absent in the previous hundred or so k’s were out in force now. B-Doubles in a hurry and this bus of mine taking a more leisurely pace were never going to marry well. Every time I saw one looming in my rear view mirror, I started looking for a wide shoulder or pull in to stop and let them pass. As you can imagine it was beginning to be a hell of a long journey. As the afternoon wore on, my head began to pound with the effort and my body was now protesting at the restrictions I was demanding of it.

I began to look at the rest stops along the road. There were heaps but so far they were all right next to the highway and very visible, neither of which promised a safe slumber. Not one of them were occupied by anyone else though many of then had burnt out cars in them. Yes the area is known for its fires but that wasn’t what bothered me; it was the thought that it might have been hoons who had stolen them and deliberately torched them afterwards. Not a good omen.

At last I saw one with a caravanner in it and thankfully I was able to pull up at short notice, thanks to a welcome lack of any traffic behind me. I pulled in but just as I got there, the man who owned the caravan hopped in the driver’s seat. Oh no, I thought. I hope he is only parking up and not leaving though I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that he was. I hopped out quickly, leaving the engine running but in neutral and the handbrake firmly on, and called out to him. He wound down his window and I asked him if he were planning on staying the night. He said he wasn’t and I must have looked as crestfallen as I felt because he rushed to reassure me that he thought I would most likely be safe here if I wanted to stay on. I didn’t feel that was right but I smiled at him and wished him safe travels, as you do.

I climbed back in behind the wheel and turned off the ignition, contemplating what to do for the best. I couldn’t shake my unease no matter how hard I tried so in the end I swallowed some pain killers with some water and leaned back against the headrest to wait for them to take effect. Thankfully my headache eased about 15 minutes later (I do not believe in driving when unwell) and so I was able to go on my way. I would not have liked to spend the night there to be honest but I wasn’t sure I would find any better either. I had to take a risk that I would and there was still a little daylight left. Now that my head was feeling better, the best bet seemed to be to look for somewhere safer.

Just when I was ready to give up and chance one of those close to the highway, I came upon a little “blink and you will miss it’ towns. There was a little pub there and lo and behold, directly across from it was a large, shady rest area. There was another traveller there, I could see the caravan through the trees. Perfect! I pulled in and noticed that there were a couple of gravel roads that led nowhere, one of them occupied by the caravan and the other empty. I pulled into the empty one, so grateful to be off the road I hadn’t take much notice of the caravan! You could have blown me over with a feather when the same man climbed out and headed straight for my door.

Instantly I went into apology mode, laughingly reassuring him that though I might look like it, I wasn’t stalking him. He grinned back at me and said he had only come over to offer me the chance to park closer to him, explaining his little dogs would soon let us both know if anyone was hanging around through the night. I thanked him and he followed up by inviting me to come over to the pub with him for a couple of beers. I explained that as I was planning on moving on in the morning and I had a .02 limit on my light rigid licence, I would have to beg off. I wasn’t wary of him, he seemed a nice enough sort of bloke and if I hadn’t been so tired I might have remembered you can get drinks with no alcohol and at least had a polite drink as a thank you LOL.

He looked a bit put out but said he would see me later and reminded me again to park next to him. I did say that I was too tired to even bother with doing that but would move over after my energy had picked up, knowing full well I had inadvertently hurt his feelings but unable to make amends. To be honest I just wanted to chill on my own but I couldn’t say that. Sometimes you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t. I had to look after me so I let myself be damned lol.

After dinner I moved up in front of him, making sure he had plenty of space to get out if he left before me and I didn’t see him again that night. As far as I know he hadn’t come back to his van before I went to sleep and I didn’t hear him afterwards. I did however hear the local hooning up and down on his track bike; well hell I was so tired that I only briefly woke up each time and fell back to sleep just as quickly.

The next morning I got up, had a coffee and prepared to cook some eggs for breakfast, thinking I would like to say thanks to Terry, the man in the van behind me. There was no sign of life as I cooked and I later discovered he must have taken his dogs for a walk early, if indeed he had returned the night before. He didn’t look my way, scurrying inside his van. Whether because he had been out all night or because he was feeling a bit huffy with my I never discovered. I shrugged as I washed up and got on the road asap. I haven’t seen him since but I still consider him my earth angel; there when I felt I needed a bit of protection, true or no.

The morning’s run to Hay was a lot less harried. There were not as many trucks on the roads and really I should have realised there would be in late afternoon as that and very early morning is when the long distance truckers are on the move; or so it has always seemed.

I made Hay in time for lunch and as I had heard the Bowls Club there allowed free camping beside them, I pulled over across the road from them to investigate. Call me picky but I wasn’t all that impressed; mind you it was free after all but the spiky bits of dead grass, loan rubbish bin and huge potholes most definitely did not inspire! I went in and bought some lunch though, again nice and also cheap. Main meal over again, I thought with satisfaction and went off to explore the town. Hay isn’t all that big but its got a lovely feel and proudly displays it history from the plaques and sculptures along the main drag to the Cobb and Co wagon in the display window of the Post Office, to the five Museums dotted around the place. Right then, that took care of the ‘what can I do here’ part but now what about somewhere to park up that has some of that longed for nature I so need in my life.

I noticed a large building that sported a large sign saying ‘information’. On the sign was the promise of $2 showers and free bicycles for travellers’ use. Nice! I ventured into the building and asked the receptionist about free camping. I mentioned I did know about the one near the club and, to her credit, she only wrinkled her nose a little. She got out a map of the town and marked out the better one, as she stressed looking intensely at me. The name is Sandy Point Picnic Area, sounded really nice and wasn’t all that far either. Not out of town really but about two k’s from the main drag which was more than fine by me. She showed the bike and walking trails on the map and I thanked her, heading out to the motorhome with a mind filled with all sorts of exciting possibilities.

The more I travelled out this way, the more confused I became by those statements that it was a boring way to go. Well maybe it depends on what you are looking for; so far I had found it filled with so much to learn and the countryside was so diverse in texture and colour that I was constantly in awe of not only the difference to the coast but the diversity of our country. Mother Nature sure had a lot of brilliant ‘dresses’ with which to delight those with ‘eyes to see’. The abundance of the coastal clime had given way slowly but surely to a sparser landscape yet it has its own beauty. There were still trees and for a long way the lush green of the grasses had prevailed. When they gave way to the burnt and barren trees, the brown spikes of grass interspersed with green tufts that stood in defiance of the dryness out here, the soils too changed, merging into creamy greys and tawny beiges and finally orange and red ochres. The starkness is often broken unexpectedly by those billabongs written of by Banjo Paterson and Henry Lawson. The coolibahs, known more commonly in our modern times as gum trees, have thrived for thousands of years. Their enormous trunks and branches that spread and climb so proudly are testament to that. How could anyone possibly call it boring out here I wondered.

Then too as I passed through each town, I felt as though the history we only touched on in school came vividly to life. I walked where they walked, looked at the same things and understood their passions for it all. What a gift! I must admit the first hundred k’s between Forbes and Hay was a bit boring but that was more the circumstances rather than the landscape.

I laughed when I found out Hay had five museums here. Ok then, there was plenty of daylight left I mused, lets see how many I can visit. The first one on my list was the Dunera Museum in two disused carriages on the now defunct railway station. The station itself is lovely, the old carriages.. well they were authentic so as you would expect they were old. Here I learned that Hay had been used as an internment camp for the Italian, german and Japanese during the war. Not all that unusual as the paranoia fed by propaganda had everyone scared of anyone from those countries despite their obvious love of Australia. Even Jews were interned here; how sad is that I thought? The poor buggers were running from a tyrant who wanted to eradicate their entire race and then I thought of the attitudes today towards the entire Muslim race. Oh my god, we as a nation haven’t learned a thing. How tragic is that? If anything we are less empathic than ever, pointing the finger at all the other countries for their treatment of minorities and all the while turning a blind eye at the very least to what was being perpetrated on refugees in Nahru in our name!

I could feel the tears welling and I thought my heart would break. Did you know that a lot of those internees went on to fight for Australia in the war? Or that many of them became doctors etc, at the very least farmers and workers in the town. They made some lovely ornaments, also on display, in order to keep themselves sane. I cant help it, I do not understand this way of thinking. Yes there are those who would harm us if they could but not all of them are muslim… I remember a bonde haired, blue eyed Australian massacring total strangers in Tasmania. What really makes my blood boil is the differentiation of words used to describe the two. If its a Muslim, its terrorism. If its a white Australian then by god it mass murder. In the US more of their people are killed by their own…what is wrong with us that we swallow all this hatred? Almost all of it is manufactured by greedy governments who are owned by even greedier business men intent on raping their lands. Practicing genocide while blaming their victims is a smoke screen to hide the truth. Ok off my soapbox for now; what I read just made me so damn sad.
I decided I’d had enough of museums for now; I needed some lightness of being to bring back the joy I had felt in my journey. Only one way to do that so I headed off to make it happen. It was time to get back to nature and I knew just the place. Just on the edge of town and down a gravel, pot holed short road that was not able to be travelled if wet, was the much anticipated Sandy Point and it didn’t disappoint! I was amazed at how many caravans, campers and RV’s were already there but there was still heaps of room. It was just a matter of finding something not under a gum tree. Those babies dropped killer limbs and I didn’t want to lose my bus or my life just yet.
I was in luck and I pulled in immediately, not willing to chance it in case I lost the spot and found no other. I was sorely in need of the tranquillity and was glad five minutes later as a caravan pulled in behind me, in the end having to opt for continuing its search rather than blocking the road in. First thing I did was lock up and head for that river. The Murrumbidgee is a beautiful green and luckily it was flowing beautifully. There were white sands on its banks as the name implied, a safe place to swim with the deeper parts used for water skiing and boating. Fishing of course was a very popular pastime either from the shoreline on from a kayak. There were not a lot of people in the water but then again, the day was drawing to a close and despite the heat the breeze was rather cool.
I plonked down on the picnic table closest to the river and let its gentle energy wash over me. Out of the corner of my eye, noticed a man in his twenties or thirties making a beeline for me. I sighed with resignation, knowing my peaceful contemplation was about to be shattered. He said hello and I smiled in return, enough encouragement I guess for him to plonk down in front of me and start to chat. He asked me if I was travelling, which he already knew of course but I pretended along with him that he didn’t and answered yes. He proceeded to tell me all about Hay and this place in particular; how it got started and how much everyone loved it. He was obviously very proud of it and, I suspected more than a little lonely. I have a grandson like that, an over friendly puppy searching for someone to listen and so I joined in the conversation, showing as much interest as I could muster. I would like to think that someone would do the same for my grandson. You never know, one act of kindness can save a life; certainly it will brighten one and so I settled in for the long haul.
He was a nice young man truly, not a worry to me at all and I knew that but still when he asked if I were travelling alone I reacted defensively. I had already swapped my lovely gold ring to my ring finger when I first started my journey, having found out the hard way that men often think a woman alone is in need of a man’s attentions. This time I had come prepared so I flashed the ring in his direction and said that my husband was catching me up due to work commitments. I didn’t say when that would be, simply implying he would be there soon. He went quiet after a bit and I made my excuses, saying I had a book I just had to get finished before he got there. The young man stayed on for a few minutes but then, when no one else came along I imagine, he left.
I had a lovely, peaceful night and fully intended to stay on another day, one of the things I had noted the day before being a bush walking track I was keen to explore.
I got up early and set off. It was so lovely in there, peaceful and beautiful and it meandered along the river’s edge. What more could you want? There were the odd sculptures along the way, accompanied by plaques that spoke of the river’s part in creating this town. There were also some of those exercise thingies lol but I wasn’t interested in those. The long walk was more than enough and nature was my mentor today. Let those other exercises be for the gym, I decided.
When I came back, all chilled out and a heart filled with wonder, I saw there had been a new arrival. A rather large RV had come in and with them they had brought a rather large dog. I love dogs so wasn’t the least bit phased; that is until the dog began barking and running at me. I rarely have a problem with dogs, my love for them is usually reciprocated but the big boy was my exception. He was really aggressive and I knew not to show fear so I kept my steps even and my eyes straight ahead as I heard his master casually call him back. He was most reluctant to go but my lack of concern must have put him off because he loped back over in the end, leaving me in peace.
That tore it for me. It was time to go so sadly I packed up and headed out. On impulse I decided to wash at the local Laundromat and stay the rest of the day and night at the showground. It was only $20 and I had hardly paid for any accommodation on this trip. When I got there the caretaker gave me the only cement slab much to my delight. I put the clothes out to dry in the sun and retreated to do some computer work. It was a hot day once again and it didn’t take long for the clothes to dry so when I got them in I decided to bath my bus! Boy what a difference that made. My poor bus was covered in red dirt and more than a few dead bugs but oh how she shined by the time I was finished, even her tires looked new!
My back was killing me by then so I packed up all the stuff, had some dinner and spread out on the bed in front of the TV to unwind before bed. I still didn’t feel like visiting any more museums the next day and so I decided it was time to leave Hay. I loved the majority of my time there, the people were as friendly as the rest of the country folk I had encountered and I would recommend this town to anyone who asked.
On the way out I got some diesel and noticed the Shearers’ Hall of Fame just a little way past it. Oh what the hell, that didn’t seem to be a downer so I went in. I could have a coffee and some brunch if its too dear or too depressing I decided. A nice way to finish off my time in Hay!
I ordered a coffee and asked if they had any gluten free meals. Well in the end I got a lamb roll without the roll and though they took the price down, they insisted on giving me a side salad. Not only that but because I wasn’t able to have the gravy, the cook brought out not one but two gluten free dressings for me in case I would like some. I have to say I was very impressed with the customer care here. The best yet! I checked the price in. It was only $15 concession and so I decided to go in and walk off the food. I was there a lot longer than I intended of course, it is a fascinating place and well worth the visit, including the maze the stockmen used to use to round up the sheep! All the equipment from way back to modern day was there and a shearing demonstration was due to start. I stuck around for that out of curiosity, what with all the upset over the cruelty to the sheep on the news recently, I wanted to see for myself just how it was done and if the poor animal was hurt.
The shearer’s name was Justin, a recent addition as the regular shearer was on leave. I cannot praise this man enough. Not only did he answer my many questions patiently but he is an excellent shearer. I watched nervously as he sheared a mother sheep, me worrying about those pronounced teats of hers and as a female, cringing at the thought of one of them being nicked. I needn’t have worried as he did a great job, not a nick and so gentle with his handling. I had videoed him and am so glad I did, I want people to know its not the true shearers who hurt the sheep. The ones who do not replace the cutting combs when they are buggered are to blame. Its the cheapskates damn them. He showed us the difference, having an old one on hand so we could see why the damage and saying no shearer worth his salt wants to hurt the animals. I felt so happy for the ewe, not only because she wasn’t cut, though small nicks do happen sometimes as they do when we shave, but also because I could just imagine the relief she felt to finally have that hot, heavy wool off her!
It was definitely time to go, I had seen heaps and I was weary of walking, perfect time to drive instead! I knew I wouldn’t make Mildura, much too far away. Next stop? Who knows, I thought ruefully. Let the universe decide!
Well I am a lot further along now but my energy is flagging so I will sign off for now. I hope I have entertained you and maybe given you a sense of wanting to start your own adventure. Would you believe my post has disappeared twice now? Third time is the charm they say lol … ciao for now