The utes at Ootha

Ootha, up the road from Yarrabandai on the the way to Condo has a turnoff to the south which takes you to an out-of-the way art installation called Utes in the Paddock. As the name suggests it is made up of a line of Holden utes mounted in particular poses and painted or crafted in a number of styles. The work is done by both local and known artists.

Its not a bad spot to grab a drive-break and take a look at the latest art-work and say G'day to the Llama.

I have my own idea to add to the line-up, but freighting my work to Ootha may pose a financial problem.

the children have entered the forest.......

From the photo files of late last summer come a few pics to remind me of next summer.

A rarely visited creek on the central coast always gives me my forest fix. Its not too far off the beaten track, a good camp spot and a half hours walk is rewarded with a cascading waterfall and cold deep pools. Strip off and ease yourself in, just the thing to ease the 7 Mile Beach sunburn.

Last visit we saw eels, fire-flys, a lyre-bird, a big golden snake and stinging trees.

The creek winds down out of a deep gorge filled with slow swirling reflections and carved sandstone. The water rings and gurgles out of shaddowy plunge pools. There are the remnants of old mines and tracks which have been taken back by the bush.

A quiet place to free the spirit.

& Long Cold Nights

11.00 pm and nothing to amuse myself with..... well, lets go out and try a little night photography.

With the mercury dipping down below -5 deg C, I trundled out with the camera into a frozen evening. The full moon was up, the mist was rolling in off the top paddocks and the world was still and silent.

The snappy-happy digital cam allows you to prioritised the shutter speed and let the aperture work itself out (or you can set an aperture)... leave it on the tripod and let it do the work.

Needless to say, she was a bit nipply out there for the hour wander, and not a creature was stirring.... not even the rabbits. ..

11.30pm, the moon through the big Ribbon Gum. The upper part of the tree was covered in silver frost, but the underside was still dripping from the fog. The full moon was casting long beams down through the leaves all the way to the ground.

The family plot... well it looked that way. The rolling fog stopped at the front yard fence and the full moon lit everything up in silver.

The vegi garden gate with the wormwood shrubs was frozen solid.

I lit the lanterns in the slab-hut and let the camera work it out with 20 second shutter.

The big gum at the dam was majic. (Apart from the ice drips down the back of the shirt). The moving fog through the leaves gave the 20 second time-lapse a bit of a fuzzy 3D effect. With a longer shatter speed, The stars would have come up nicely too.... but it was too cold!

The next morning sat at -6. It has been the coldest morning we have seen for years. The chooks were still on the perch at 8.00. Frosty morning, but beautifful winter day following.

Head in the Clouds

As a compulsory cloud watcher, I take notice when the barometer drops and the cumulus begin pushing their way into the stratosphere. A ripper bubbled up over the mountains in the east a little while back. I grabbed the camera and snapped a few shots. (which again.... didn't do it justice for size and majesty).

Of note has been the absence of good lightning storms. It has been a number of years since I have sat on the verandah at night and taken in a good thunderstorm.

As promising as these appeared, there was no light display that evening, although Katoomba got a neat inch of downpour.

.... and that roof needs a paint too....

On the Tiles

Finally.... and I do mean finally... got the mosaic done in the barby hut.

I did a Tree of Life, or a Tree of Knowledge, or Aarons Tree, or a shady tree, refuge tree, matriarch tree, tree in the paddock, or a dream tree or just a tree that I sketch out from time to time when the top of the page looks empty. Such trees have always formed a important focus in my time. It was a good spot to sit down in the warm afternoon sun and fit pieces into the giant jigsaw. When done (some 5 weeks later), I considered it a reasonable effort for my first free-style mosaic.

And for anyone expecting a bit of car guff in this update..... there is none...., apart from a pic of the Monaro, which still keeps me smilin.... :)

Dodging the Hoppers

Wild van of the plains (Silverton Creek)

Autumn has broken the back of summer and with the good rains bought about by cyclones up north, the waters are coming down through the Culgoa, Paroo and Warrego River sytems, and into the upper Darling. So we thought that we would load the panno and take a round tour out through Ivanhoe, Menindee, Broken Hill and then back on home through Hay. We didn't count on hitting the first swarms of locusts at Cowra. The good summer season has set up a fine population and we drove nearly 1000km with grasshoppers coating the front of the HQ.

Quamby Swamp. (Full, looking east)

Evening on the water.. almost bat hour...

Me off on the bike for an explore... wheres Wally ?

Ivanhoe country has changed a full palette octave since our last visit and was greens and reds. For the first time in 10 or so years, the 'swamps' (low water holding depressions) have water again and the bird life will be on the rise. HD and me took a few paddles about the lake sized puddle and a few bird watching missions. The water is surprisingly clear and warm. We spent a few days touring the back hills and were even held up off the next tour leg by a welcomed 20 mill of rain.

Quamby swamp facing west through the Box trees

We hit the Ivanhoe - Menindee road with vengeance. The graders had just been through and the road was surprisingly kind to the suspension. We had to go bush to get around a few big wet driftways, but made it into Menindee just as a new shower started to pelt down. (The Menindee road gets a little sticky when wet).

We pulled over to watch the water thundering out the spillway and into Menindee Lakes. The drizzle made the lakes look even bigger, as you couldn't see to the other side. Only dead trees disappearing into the mist. The lake has been as good as dry for a few years.

Drink-up Menindee, but leave a bit for downstream too..

The road through to Broken Hill was wet and removed the first layer of grasshoppers off the panno. Broken Hill loved the panno too. We got a few thumbs up around town. The wave given out on the road by oncoming drivers varies a fair bit. Often the mega-van tourists dont even acknowledge you, it is the locals, truckies and holden ute drivers that see you coming and give you a big 'G'day!. (even had lights flashed). We perused the galleries around the Hill. We were impressed by the town gallery (and the building). We checked out a few lookouts around town and took a gander at the rock carvings and people taking photos of each other and 40 variations of the sun setting.

On top of the Hill... (we didnt break it)



Some extra deep prose chalked on the old tanks.

The Hill country is looking great. The Bluebush is all resprouting and grasses are coming up in tall clumps in between. The damp earth and rocks really accentuate the colours.

Silverton Creek (sorry if it is called Silverton River) and the V Dubs and Emus

Saturday morning we were roused bny the Corellas (great....3.30am... at least it wasnt some bloke with a generator) and we headed on out to Silverton.

Last of the V8 interceptors, hey Max? The Looney Tunes sun-visor is a nice touch.

I really enjoyed Silverton for a visit. The rains overnight had most of the causeways running and the Silverton Creek was running. We paused to check the local art, had a beer and a pie, posed with the Mad Max Coupe and then wandered out onto the flats where the old town once stood in its heyday. We saw that there was a museum so we went and had a good yarn to Norm at the desk (who owns a tidy HQ wagon) and found that he lived as a young boy, just up the road from our own place. (small world). We parked on the edge of the Mundi Mundi plains and even payed homage to the truck-crash location in Mad Max 2 movie.

Mundi Mundi plains. The mega-vans and their generators are just out of shot to the right... They were sitting up in their bus watching some TV...good one people...

Silverton architecture, plenty of interesting graffiti scratched into the walls.

They have cleaned up the truck wreckage.... bummer. (I guess Max was filmed 25 years ago)

The road home was uneventful... more grasshoppers thuding and clunking against the front of the panno. Most hoppers on the road would jump up to fly just as you passed over them and so the bull-bar and lights and underside of the engine got an extra coating of locust genache. Slow cooked on the pipes..... lovely! Dropped into an old uni mates' joint for a cuppa. Good to see that some lads just don't change. (on ya, Seano)

One last thing.... I was passed a kind gift from HD's aunty. A blacksmiths anvil which may have belonged to HD's great grandfather.! We gently lifted it into the back of the van, tied it down and took it carefully home (not wanting to dint it see). It sat the panno down an extra inch. It now has pride of place out the side of the shed and rings true!

Anvil picks comin soon!

We took a ride down south

When I get around to it I will tell the tale of the next saga in the great long ride.

The VJMC rally is held once a year in Healesville, Victoria. VJMC stands for Vintage Japanese Motorcycle Club and as the name suggests, they provide a club base for owners of early Hondas, Yamahas, Kwackazackys, Zooks and the like.

Under the enthusiasm of my older brother who was busily resoring a 1964 Honda CT90, we prepped up for a couple-of-days ride down south and back. Picking up older brother No.2 on the way at Chiltern.

Admittably, my 2002 CT110 cannot be classed as vintage so I told myself I was the support/ sweep vehicle in case anything cruicial fell off the old 64 along the way. At the last minute, cousin Darren signed up for the ride, and without a bike licence, took the Hilux with the camping gear, GPS and reading material. Subsequently, my role of support vehicle was taken at the last minute.

Riding the 1200km down wasnt all that much of a problem. We stuck to the back roads as much as possible, thus avoiding the wild highway drivers and swaying semi's. Bro W took his first maintainance stop 50 km from home and after a cam change and retiming, we were off again. (It was the first of at least 6 timing changes). With no wind, we set the pace of the slowest at about 64.5 km/Hr, headwind could knock you back to 50 and combined with a good hill, back to 40. There was no rush, and the unhurried backroads provide alot to take in.

Our second day riding, riding in trio and winding through the Eildon State Forests to find our way back down through the Panton Gap to Healesville was exillarating and for once we started to out pace the cars through the tight hilly stuff. The Rally was postponed from the the previous March due to the intence bush-fires that blazed the region. The battle scars from the fires were very obvious and gave us a fair hint of how major these wild fires were.

We hit Healesville by 8.00 on the second day and rattled into the campground in front of a pack of bemused BMRs ('bigger motorbike riders'... their bikes, not always their stature).

Bro W and myself had purchased a couple of one-man trail tents for the ride (before the support vehicle was provided). I erected mine on a tidy patch of grass beside my hog and W took out his thoughtfully packed 4-man tent for spacious sleeping arrangements. Bro No,2 also settled down in a 3-man, while I lay with my nose 5 inches away from the condensation drips collecting on the ceiling. Support cousin snores like a unmuffled Bultaco so fortunately I was far enough away to not be kept awake by his idle.

The colours of the rally shone through with the lifting of the fog. Without providing details of what was there, I will let the photos do the talking. Everything from rusted-nut old every-day roadies, to lounge-room kept works of art from the 70's. We took to the streets (on the CT's) and grabbed a cuppa amongst the executive Harley riders doing the weekend loop. (and wernt they impressed by our thumpsters parked in their pack).

The rally went really well. There were a a good 200 bikes there with as many in the car-park. Everyone was up for a yarn and a story. We got to tell ours.

Sunday was pack up and head out, back up over the mountains, through the burnt-out villages and onto the quiet back-roads. It was a warm two days ride home and we had all fitted into a pattern of ride, pass, lead, tail, pull-over, rest, check and go again. Our fuel consumption was about 45 km to the litre and as we did the last 150 km into Grenfell our speed was up to 75km/Hr. The bikes must have loosened up. Once again the old CT proved itself. I recon you could ride for weeks without too much drama.... but then, that will be another story.