It was much warmer than the last few mornings when we rose; rain replaced the frost, far more unwelcome. Travellers and farmers are just never happy, both always lamenting the state of the weather. By the time we had attended to yet more emails, and then delayed a little, hoping the rain would pass over, it was well after 10.30 am and the day was in danger of slipping away, as they easily can.
Our plan had been for a drive in the country to enjoy the beautiful landscape; Chris had extended our stay for a further three days and we had each one planned to the max. Off we went following the yellow “tourist drive” on the map, turning eastwards just south of our camp, and along the southern bank of the Blackwood River. Even upstream here, it is still a very beautiful and substantial body of water and the countryside around is just as lovely. In fact, I do believe that our drive today was through the loveliest rural pastoral land that I have ever travelled through, here in Australia or New Zealand. For me, the rolling hills, dotted with sheep grazing on lush even green grass, the large trees having been left for shade and aesthetics but still allowing for fodder crop cultivation, cannot be bettered. There were few cattle about, although some, and the grassland is not like the naturally occurring hardy stuff of the north and outback, but that planted for optimum feed purposes; perhaps clover, rye and such, which grows without bald red patches between each clump.
We travelled along Tweed Road, detouring to see Evans Bridge where Sunday’s Bridge Banquet had taken place, continuing on many kilometres of orange muddy road, back on tar seal through Mayanup which can be missed if you blink, and on to Boyup Brook.
The entire shire of Boyup Brook has a population of just 1,600, and most of them are out on the farms we passed by, however this friendly little service town still manages to sell itself as the “Capital of Country Music in Western Australia”. Alas, we are about five months too late to join the crowds that apparently descend on Boyup Brook, however it made us recall similar festivals we happened upon at The Entrance, NSW and at Mildura, Victoria.
We popped into the IGA and bought a few grocery items, were impressed by the warmth of the locals and exchanged a few pleasantries with one, discussing the merits of the rain and the farm tanks that needed filling from the heavens, before venturing back out into the pouring rain. Note that “tank” here means an earth reservoir.
Needless to say, we sat in the landcruiser to have our lunch before pressing on with our tour. We now headed on further up the river, crossing it a couple of times more, stopping to see the Gregory Tree, a tree carved with survey marks by one of the famous Gregory brothers in 1845. They did get about, those Gregory men, and leave their calling cards all over the country and there seem to be Gregory Trees here, there and everywhere.
After completing a figure of eight to the north east of Boyup Brook, we returned back through the town and headed more directly back to Bridgetown. We had covered just under one hundred and seventy kilometres, and despite the rain and the very wet roads, enjoyed it very much. It would have been more enjoyable however if I had been able to record some of those splendid rain misted scenes on camera, but I am a bit of a woos when it comes to getting wet.
Back at camp, just after 2 pm, we settled in for an inside afternoon, having taken no exercise but hoping that tomorrow’s weather would allow us to instead.
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| Coverage of the West so far |
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