Read PDF Chloe the Dancing Cow & Ned and Buck, a Fish and a Duck Box Set

Sights unseen

Contents:

Longwood Cricket Club lies in our home neighbourhood. He knew his stuff, and the draft beer was just as smart. I wondered if this Longwood had tennis courts. It does - four tarmac types, near a parched golf course with sand greens and a crowd of cordial-looking sheep. Not enough to make us tarry, and it was on to Bright, which lives up to its name with greener pastures, magnificent trees and a welcoming friendliness that continued unabated throughout the journey.

Have I sold out to the Ministry of Tourism, or what? It seemed a conspiracy to treat us aliens like family. The Great Alpine Road taking us to Bright began unostentatiously off the Hume Freeway at Wangaratta in soothing farmland that accommodates vineyards, tobacco fields and cattle, the Alps up ahead merely shadowy humps. But they became formidable dusky green obstacles once we got into the Ovens Valley. A leafy canopy makes the road into Bright seem European, and it is the elms, chestnuts and towering, billowing green monkey puzzle trees that make the small town so restful.

Mount Buffalo Park beckoned, and the snaky road of pinched U's crept up and through heavily wooded terrain that opened occasionally to magnificent panoramic vistas of ridges, peaks, farms and vineyards. Hiking trails on Mount Bogong led us across primaeval glades and tangled forests, among massive boulders the size of two-storey houses that seemed menacing, poised to pancake intruders at any moment.

Aged gums, their trunks tinted with streaks of lime, champagne, orange and crimson, leaned and twisted, and were stopovers for squawking, badly tailored ravens. Farther along, the road passed an imposing rockpile called the Cathedral where a stand of haunting trees reached out for us, their branches like tentacles seeking to punishingly squeeze sinners.

Time to speed up. Descending momentarily for an aromatic whiff of the lavender farm at Harrietsville, we then began rising again in the Alps and into a shroud of clouds that had taken over. Bales of fluff blocked the road, decreasing progress to 30kmh. It was hide-and-seek, driving blind on Mount Bernard with the only company - thankfully - the three-metre orange snow poles marking the edge of the precipices. Elsinorean along Razorback Ridge and Mount Feathertop, the haze seldom let up. Then only to offer gloom with a view of gorges resembling steaming cauldrons and tors impersonating whales emerging from a grey sea.

At a well-named place called Slippery Pinch, dark forms on the road became wandering cattle. Spectres pogoing into the gloaming were revealed as tall kangaroos. It was getting late and reborn Omeo, a community of , appeared a likely refuge. So it was, the Golden Age Hotel, fronted by a rose garden and tended by an outgoing all-rounder, year-old Melissa Connley. On the most unlucky Friday the 13th in the years of Omeo, a ghastly January day in , the town was wiped out by a bushfire. A painting of the original Golden Age Hotel dominates the neat dining room where the steaks are very good.

It and every other building were incinerated. Jim Flannagan, a sturdy year-old stockman, weathered and snowy-haired, doesn't talk about it much, but the fire has stayed with him.

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My mother was away when the fire got near, and my father put my brothers and sisters and me, and the household furniture, in a creek close to town. The worst was the fireballs, boiling overhead and exploding. If it wasn't so tragic it would have been beautiful. The only good thing was only one person died. He smiled at his granddaughter, and mused: In '39 there were only two cars in town. We went everywhere by horse. Well, we had a radio and the weekly picture show.

See a Problem?

And the weekly dance, where I met my wife. Even if Omeo doesn't strike you as a literary centre, Octagon Books, snappily painted in purple, green and cream, is a must stop. Presided over by Trish Leon and her grey stray cat, Bronte, the shop features a fine array of books on Australia and by Australian authors, and I was able to pick up Ian Jones' Ned Kelly: A Short Life , which was hard to find in Melbourne.

While flowering gums nicely decorated Bruthen, it was the apple-spice scones of Tanja Hennekam, a vivacious redhead, at her Le Cafe that won our palates. We were on the way to Mallacoota, at the south-east corner of the continent.

Wood Duck House

Bridging the Snowy River at Orbost, we entered countryside that opened up, but presently turned thick and jungle-like with palms and ferns at Bemm River. Amazingly, Mallacoota, with its gorgeous tawny beaches and hillside prospects of vast Bottom and Top Lakes and the sea beyond, hasn't been discovered by developers. Nothing glitzy or high-rise. But rain didn't deter us from long, solitary, invigorating beach walks, inspecting the loftily majestic Mallacoota gum at the centre of town one of 38 in existence and a visit to the local golf club to observe the mobile hazards - throngs of kangaroos, frolicking and sparring and looking as though they could shoot par.

Captain Neil has been piloting the metre Discovery for or-so years and, according to his wife, Corry, the ticket seller, "hasn't lost a ship or a passenger yet - although we regret that in the case of several of the latter". Faithful employees Jack and Jacqueline are a pair of white-breasted sea eagles that could be classified as showbirds. On a signal from the captain, his first and only mate, Claire Trebilco, pitches a fish from the deck. Whereupon either Jack or Jacqueline appears on high and nosedives spectacularly towards the boat, landing in a skid of spray, showing off photogenic two-and-a-half-metre wingspreads, and nailing refreshment with talons.

This goes on throughout the voyage during which other avian characters include black swans and ducks, whistling kites, mynahs, bellbirds, egrets, cormorants and marvellous pelicans with long pink beaks and yellow-rimmed eyes. Presumably the long-lived Jack and Jacqueline are in the captain's will. Sampling the lush Croajingolong on foot, Aurelio's goal was to scale Genoa Peak. A woman with an ascension fixation who has summited Kilimanjaro, trekked to the Everest base camp and the top of the Eiffel Tower, and might climb a parking meter on a dull day, she yearned to scan the park from Genoa.

Poem of the Masses

Though an altitude of only metres, it is steep, involves a lot of jarring rock-scotching and loses something of its appeal in rain-induced mud. However, once on the tiny platform at the crest, we had earned the renowned total view - degrees of cotton blur. Another walk in the general neighbourhood, at the end of a kilometre dirt track, pierces a forest revealing the grumbling surf of lonely Hicks Point where it bashes rocks stained red by lichen.

A handsome lighthouse marks the spot that in Zachary Hicks, peering from Cook's Endeavour, identified with "Land ho! Darkness grabbed us at Cann River. Although the kitchen was closed at the Cann River Hotel, Julie, the cook, and Sue, the waitress, obligingly rustled up a good meal. Too tired to look further for lodging, we warily settled for the hotel: But it was clean and we slept well.

The sun even came out for a while the next afternoon, so fetchingly that we peeled to the altogether at deserted Cape Conran National Park and took an ocean swim at an inlet where curious rock formations seemed like packs of two-metre cards stacked at an angle. Departing the water after a half-hour, we gulpingly noticed that we weren't alone. A blanket-sized ray had been our companion.

More stormy weather as we pulled into Lakes Entrance, lined with motels. Topping an "unbuildable slope", as they were warned, Beverly and Gerard Goris' peach-toned version of Xanadu covers several levels.

A well-appointed eyrie with a small beach as the bottom of the hill, it looks out to a lake called the North Arm and then across a very long strand Ninety Mile Beach to the sea. A boardwalk over the Arm takes you to the beach. Gerard, soft-spoken with a grey Santa's beard, and his energetic wife, ex-Melburnians, said the obvious: They said we couldn't do it - so we did. A fresh seafood dinner at the Nautilus, a houseboat in the Arm, was excellent.

The Riddle of the Sands-- Text. Psyche Illustrated --at Roy Glashan's Library.

Obituaries

The Open Road in Victoria: The Scarlet Banner Gelimer A. The Voyage of the Beagle: Night Series - No. Issued to celebrate the fiftieth birthday, in , of the Mercantile Mutual Insurance Company. The Adventures of Louis de Rougemont-- Text. Johnston of Malaspina University-College, Nanaimo, British Columbia, Canada, may be used, in whole or in part, by anyone, without permission and without charge, provided the source is acknowledged. For comments and suggestions for improvements, please contact Ian Johnston].

A Memory Sherlock Holmes: Journals of Expeditions of Discovery into Central Australia, etc. The Maxwells of Bremgarten: A Voyage to Terra Australis Vol. The Famous Cases of Dr. The Adventures of Dr. Verse-- Text -- ZIP. Voyage of Discovery to N. Detective and Mystery The Sword of Damocles: Other novels and short fiction are available from Roy Glashan's Library in various formats. Eureka --at Roy Glashan's Library. A Star in the East: An Eye for an Eye: Journey of Discovery to Port Phillip [edited by W. The Tragedy of a Third Smoker. Byerley Also refer to an account by A J Richardson.

The Country of the Pointed Firs-- Text. Works availabe at Roy Glashan's Library. A Story of West and East --Co-author: Titles available at Roy Glashan's Library. Der Roman einer Wolke Sternentau. A Book of Poems-- Text Look! We Have Come Through! Falsivir's Travels--at Roy Glashan's Library. Chisholm's research and discovery of Gilbert's diaries and letters throws a new light on Leichhardt's expedition. Leichhardt's Third Expedition [edited by Rev.

Lindt during Sir Peter Scratchley's Expedition. See Wikipedia for a brief biography. The Vintons and the Karens: Quill Gold --at Roy Glashan's Library Unprofitable Ivory --at Roy Glashan's Library Strangers of the Amulet --at Roy Glashan's Library Raiders of Abyssinia --at Roy Glashan's Library Slaves for Ethiopia --at Roy Glashan's Library