It is Guy Fawkes Day today although I have seen
little evidence of any celebration here. We did see on the news last
night that an effigy of Lance Armstrong was burned in lieu of a Guy, in England
somewhere, so obviously the tradition hangs on in some places of the world. Actually
it is the American celebration of Halloween that seems to have caught a hold
here in Australia, with silly people spending a fortune on costumes and all the
palaver that comes with the territory; I guess I am just a party
pooper.
This morning I woke in a semi-drugged state and it
seems to have taken until late in the afternoon for the cloud to lift. Since
leaving New Zealand twenty one months ago, my hay fever has been practically
non-existent and I have, thankfully, lived a comfortable life without the daily
popping of anti-histamine tables. However the last few days of sneezing became
far worse yesterday, and after nearly scratching out my itchy eyes, I succumbed
to just one pill. The hay fever was cured and instead I became zombie like.
Considering I used to pop a couple at a time, it is surprising that one was
able to affect me this way. And it should be noted that these are the “non-drowsy”
variety.
This morning, after I managed a load of washing, we
wandered across the bridge to the town and purchased the daily newspaper and a
loaf of French bread, then came home and sat out under the awning. The clouds
had tried a few times during the morning to squeeze out a few drops of rain but
none very effectively. By lunch the temperature was up around 29 degrees and I
was still not much of a fun companion for Chris. I lay down for a while,
drifted off and then was woken by the neighbour packing his kids trikes into
the motorboat parked up hard against our caravan. They have since left for
Canberra.
It was time for some action, even if just a brief
trip out to the heads and that is what we did. Toragy Point is just nine
kilometres east along the southern banks of the Moruya River; a very quiet
inauspicious place for even quieter retirees and absent holiday makers. We stood
on the cliff above the wild sea, watching the waves crash onto the rocks below.
The wind was fierce although quite warm. After a while, we were joined by a
family who were keen to spot whales, and so they did. We all watched the antics
of a school far out from the shore more active that we have seen so far. These
majestic creatures threw their bodies high into the air and then crashed back
down into the choppy seas. Again, it was one of those sights you generally have
to pay lots of money to see, and here it was all for free, albeit at some
distance.
Here on this point, lie the remnants of several
graves including the family who made Moruya famous for its quarried stone.
Quite a place to sit and pass the night, if you believe in wandering night
spirits.
We returned to town and then drove out along the
northern river bank in search of the quarry site, marked on the map. Although
there is a pleasant pull off picnic spot more or less opposite some large gates
which appear to be the entrance to a disused quarry, there is little else to
celebrate the activity. We returned home.
After a cup of tea, Chris spot-washed the dust from
the land cruiser and I did little more than ring through to our next caravan
park. We want to have television for the next couple of days, what with the Melbourne
Cup tomorrow and the American election the day after. The weather report for
the next few days looks pretty dismal so we will feel quite vindicated passing
them in front of the goggle box.
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