And now, a blog post. Finally. I feel sheepish (geddit? Because I write about knitting stuff? Urgh… and now I feel dirty) for not posting earlier, but I’ve been run off my feet with things to do the last little while. Things that got backed up during the holiday and, well, the aftermath of the holiday itself.
The holiday, as it happened, could probably be described best by that most delightful of terms: omnishambles. Yes, my long awaited get-out-of-Melbourne trip did not end up being all that I had hoped. But humour is my all-time favourite coping mechanism, so let’s have a chat and a laugh about it anyway, right?
The trip started off well enough. We headed up to Myall Lakes National Park and did some camping. I’d visited the area a few years back and always wanted to return, as it really is very lovely. The sheer quantity of water always blows my mind (and this is coming from someone who spends most of her time on the coast).
We got hideously mosquito bitten, but other than that, camping was excellent. There were some lovely walks to be found in the surrounding national park.
Birds were everywhere, from kookaburras and ducks at the water’s edge to a small group of wrens flitting around our tent. And, a definite novelty: there were dingoes! (Dingos? Dingoes? Erm, there was more than one dingo?) And they were saucy. We saw one trotting happily past with a shoe in its mouth. Sneaky little bastard.
Sadly by early afternoon, rainstorms had rolled in, so we continued north so we could rendezvous with my father in Crescent Head, a little sea-side town that is one of my all time favourite places (and anyone who has read this blog for a while will vouch that I’ve seen my share of places). We spent a pleasant few days wandering the beach, cooking delicious food and watching Jonathan Creek with my dad.
And then, we had rain. For days. And then, unsurprisingly, came the floods. At first we laughed off the rain and enjoyed an excuse to loll around all day. Then I started to get concerned and insisted we go into the nearest larger town for groceries. Driving home again, the bridges had half a foot of water running atop them. The next day all outlying roads were closed, and the nearest towns were evacuated. Finding ourselves with the good fortune of being higher ground (and stranded regardless), we hid inside and ate delicious things. (what better thing to do when you’ve excess indoors time on your hands?)
The weather let up a little after a few days of nothing but driving rain and furious wind; we were still stranded but we could at least walk around the town and to the beach (which was still, unfortunately, in no way safe for swimming). So much for our plans of spending an idyllic fortnight lolling around the beach and touring nearby national parks.
But at least we got some rest, right? At least after all that enforced idleness we were well rested and thoroughly de-stressed, right? Well, somewhat. Of course, we managed to completely undo that by the holiday’s end. Last weekend the roads were reopened and since I was due back at work, we packed up hurriedly and drove south through the still receding waters. We stayed in Goulburn overnight and, thinking we had a few hours spare in the morning, decided to check out the nearby Wombeyan Caves. We weren’t able to see the national parks further north, but at least we could check out some cool things on the way home, right? Well, we did see the caves, I suppose. And they were definitely interesting to visit. But on the way home, while driving along the poorly maintained unsealed road, a kangaroo leaped out onto the road. We swerved to avoid it. The car spun out, the car flipped, and we found ourselves hanging upside-down by our seatbelts.
No stress here, right?
I shouldn’t actually complain too much; if you’ve going to wreck your car in a rather spectacular accident, you couldn’t really ask for a better scenario than ours. Neither the Boy or I were the slightest bit hurt (my hat fell off and I scratched my shin, but that was about it). Thanks to a lovely man driving past, we didn’t even lose a single item of our belongings. We arranged a place to stay and a rental car with little difficulty. But still, not exactly what you want on your holiday. And it hurt to leave my poor old lady car in Goulburn, completely written off as she was. I learned to drive in that car. She was old, she was daggy, but I loved her ever so much. And she did well by us; the fact that we both walked away unhurt is evidence of how safe you always were when you were driving her. I may have sniffled the entire way from Goulburn to Yass (a mere 80km), and still couldn’t talk about her without choking up for some time after that. Vale, my dear old car. You will be fondly remembered.
And this is just the big stuff that went wrong. It was accompanied by a fistful of other annoying things that happened at the same time. My camera died, for no apparent reason. I buggered up one of my teeth and will now have to attend the dentist ASAP. My bike got stolen (apparently the universe is systematically removing my methods of transportation).
So ends the most ill-fated attempt at a holiday I’ve ever taken (even beats the Norwegian hell-flu incident hands down). Serves me right for tempting fate by going on a trip after writing a blog-post involving the following declaration:
“one of the things I’d like to do more in 2013 is get out of the city for some walking and sightseeing. There are so many beautiful places within an hour or so’s drive of Melbourne. I really have precious little excuse not to go out and get stuck in.”
Guess I’ll just have to beg for rides from friends for a while. Anyone in Melbourne fancy a hike and want company?
Still, it’s good to be home. And there’s no point in moping for an excessively long period of time over stuff you can’t change (for all that I retain my right to mope for a good 45 minute period about things including but not limited to: awry holiday plans, getting stuck in natural disaster zones, destroyed cars, etc). So I’m dealing with things by throwing myself into hobbies and home-improvement. If my holiday didn’t work, I’m bloody well going to make home as awesome a place as possible; a place that I will relish inhabiting when the weather starts to turn cold. My attempt at a last grasp of summer having gone thoroughly to hell, I am just going to tidy my scarf collection in welcome of autumn.
It’s easier to knit for cold weather anyway.