8.3.11 – Camping among the parrots

8.3.11 – Camping among the parrots  (Sydney to Yass, New South Wales, Australia)

Drinking morning tea in George and Moira’s sunny garden in Picton.  Dark green fruit trees – lemons, kumquats, plums, nectarines – a good harvest if the cockatoos allow.  Kookaburras laughing in the trees above, and skimming close to our heads at high speed.  Multicoloured parrots in little flocks dodging from tree to tree.  Our last delightful morning here.  And now for the campavan!

Our home for three weeks!



It was a sizzlingly hot day as we arrived at the depot in Sydney.  After the formalities, and a slight hiccup as we were initially offered a van much smaller than we had booked, we were off, hugging Moira and George, swinging ourselves into the high front seats and manoeuvring through the Sydney traffic and onto the open road.  We headed west, through Goulburn, picking up iced coffee on the way, and arriving at Yass, a small country town which contained our caravan park for the night.  We unpacked into our tiny home – the challenge of finding a space for everything always delights me.  Then a walk, down the road and along the wide River Yass, its smooth glassy surface dimpled by water boatman insects, skating delicately across the surface, and expanding rings betraying the presence of fairly sizeable fish.  Aboriginal art under the bridge graced the grey concrete pillars - browns, whites and greys picking out the outlines of lizards, fish, birds and plants.



Aboriginal art



Back at the van, we ate salad under the trees as the galas, rose pink chests, silver grey wings, squawked raucously as they appeared to chase each other from tree to tree.  The cockatoos are here too, white as snow with acid yellow crests and extremely screechy voices. 

A frothy pink sunset was followed by a night sky bubbling with brilliant stars, Orion still determinedly upside down.  And so the first night of 24 to come in our van commences.  The coming days will take us through the state of Victoria, pausing at Melbourne, and then into South Australia, to visit Bill’s childhood home in Whyalla, and the numerous places which have lived in his memory for over 50 years, and which have teased my imagination ever since I met him.