10-01-10

On the first Sunday after the 6th of January the annual Greek Blessing of the Waters is held in Glenelg, South Australia. In this religious ceremony--which commemorates the baptism of Jesus Christ by John the Baptist in the River Jordan--the clergy and people of the church walk in procession with the cross out on the Glenelg Jetty.  At the end of the pier, the baptismal hymn is sung and then the cross is cast into the Holdfast Bay to bless the waters.

In the water, far below the pier, several young men from the church are on hand to retrieve the cross.  The  man that gets to the cross first will then swim to shore and return the cross to the priest, who will then deliver a special blessing to the swimmer.

2010's Lucky Guy

Bulky

This week's theme is bulky.

This momma 'roo is taking a break from carrying around a "bulky" pouch.  It may be time for here to kick her joey out of the house!

A Golden Gem

Like many of our road trips, the drive between Kooyoora and Mt. Buffalo took longer than expected, but we also made some exciting discoveries including the city of Bendigo, located in the heart of the goldfields just 150 kilometers from Melbourne.
We weren't drawn to the town in search for alluvial gold--as more the 20,000 diggers were in 1852-- but instead we were looking for a public toilet. When we drove into town we were surprised to be greeted by wide streets, lush gardens, spectacular buildings and a majestic church. For a brief moment I felt as though I had been transported back to Europe. Before our eyes was a grand and gracious city, but it was just below our feet--in the gold-bearing quartz reefs--where the wealth with which the city was built came from.

Once a booming gold town, where over 5,000 shafts were dug and 25 million ounces of the precious metal were extracted, operation of the local mines ceased in 1954.   However, in 1978 there was an attempt at modern exploration and currently there is some small scale exploration and mining occurring 1000 meters below the town.

After a short stroll through the town, where I managed not to take as many pictures as I thought I had, we jumped back into our Britz Land Cruiser and continued on our way to Mt. Buffalo.

A Christmas Day Journey

After a Christmas brekkie of cold cereal with yogurt and a 2.5 hour leg stretch that included our Christmas gift from Mother Nature--a Swamp Wallaby--it was time to hit the road.  We knew that we would be leaving the plains of Eastern Victoria and heading to the highlands.  We had a region picked out, but we had not mapped out specific destinations because we wanted flexibility--especially since we couldn't be sure of crowds and/or fire bans.

We were leaning towards heading to Mt. Buffalo National Park which is located in the Australian Alps. We were drawn by the promise of "sheer cliffs, imposing granite tors, tumbling waterfalls, snow gums and stunning wildflowers" (http://www.parkweb.vic.gov.au/1park_display.cfm?park=151).  However, we were concerned about being able to get a campsite, since at this specific park there is no bush camping.  We had read some conflicting information about the National Park; some sources stated you must have a booking during high season but others said there were several spots in the campground that were on first-come basis.  We had tried to call the Park directly, but they were closed for the day.  At least we were able to confirm that there was no fire ban, which meant we would be able to eat a warm meal.  So we decided to take a gamble and headed to Mt. Buffalo.

The drive was long and the last 30 plus kilometers were slow going as we wound our way up a steep mountain road.  This part of the journey was made in silence.  We were anxious, not from the twists and turns but because we were unsure of finding a camp site.  If there was no space at the "inn," it would mean a long drive back down to the valley and a night at a trailer park.

All of a sudden the tall cliffs that flanked the road gave way to a large meadow and there in the center lay the alpine Lake Catani.  We had reached the top and the scene before us was breathtaking.  Now our only deilmma was whether or not we would find a camp spot.

At the entrance to the campground we were greeted with a sign that said sites 1 to 18 for non-reservations.  Our hearts began to beat quicker, and we broke into an internal cheer as we found the only a couple of those sites occupied.  Our journey for the day was complete and in the end well worth the risk.  After checking in with the camp hostess, who didn't say much except that we could take an empty spot and a ranger would be by in the morning, and a short walk around the lake, we settled in for our Traditional New Mexican Christmas Eve meal of Tamales and Posole.  A day late, but it was delicious.

Legends Sealed in Granite

View from one of the many caves.

As we walked amongst the granite outcrops and explored the caves at Kooyoora State Park, I couldn't help but wish that the stones could talk.   I wanted to put my ear against the cool granite and hear the echo of the past.  I wanted descriptions of how the forces of mother nature had etched the land over time.  I wanted stories about the activities and behaviors of the Jaara Jarra Aboriginal people that once called the area home.  I wanted to learn about the native flora and fauna.  But most important I wanted to know where Captain Melville hid the five billycans of gold dust.

Frank McCallum--alias Captain Melville--was born in Scotland in 1823.  At the ripe age of 12 he was convicted of theft, and three years later he was sent to Van Diemen's Land (the original name used by the Europeans for the Island of Tasmania), where he spent 10 years in the main penitentiary.  He "earned" his freedom in 1851, the same time that gold was discovered in Victoria.  He headed for Melbourne in search of fortune.  However, his approach to the gold rush quickly evolved from pick and shovel to gun.  After all it was much easier to point a gun, than to dig for gold.

For several years Captain Melville was a successful and notorious bushranger on the roads between Melbourne and Ballarat.  These roads passed near the present day  Kooyoora State Park.  According to local legend several of the caves in the park were where McCallum hid himself and his horse as he waited for unsuspecting victims and/or the law.  It is also believed that this is where he hid his stolen treasures.

On Christmas Eve 1852, Capain Melville ran out of luck; he was arrested in Geelong and sentenced to over 30 years in prison for highway robbery.

In 1856 he was involved in an attempted escape and murder of a guard.  He was sentenced to death but reprieved.  On August 10th 1857, he was found hung in his cell in the Old Melbourne Gaol.  His death and lost loot remain an unsolved mystery.

A Deviled Christmas Eve

It had been a long day.  We had left Adelaide over seven hours before.  Fortunately, the winds of the south had arrived bringing cloud cover and relief from the blistering heat of the day before.  The shimmering road and its constant snake like movement had taken us across a wheat belt--the once golden fields were now bleached white by the intense summer sun.  Just outside of Logan--a bar and caravan park--the landscape changed.  We entered a haven of eucalyptus, iron-box, and tea trees.  The undeveloped land--littered only with thousands of granite boulders--was a lush green island surrounded by  a rippling, colorless sea.
It was early Christmas Eve and we had arrived at Kooyoora State Park, our final destination for the night.  We were prepared for the sign that awaited us at the gate, Total Fire Ban Day.  It had been announced in every small town that we had passed through since our arrival in Eastern Victoria.  Our vision of warm Posole and Tamales (the preferred Christmas Eve Fare of my querido Nuevo Mexico) heated on the camp stove, had been left behind far behind in Nhill.  During the several hundred kilometer drive across the state, we had mentally prepared ourselves to face a holiday meal of deviled ham sandwiches with a side of crisps.

Though prepared for the ban, we were surprised to find that we would have company that evening.  At the other end of the campground a family of three generations sat huddled around a table swatting at the millions of flies that buzzed around them.  As I watched them from a distance, I couldn't help but wonder if they had been caught off guard by the fire ban.  Were they better prepared with salads and a baked chicken, or were they faced with potted meat as well?

As I pulled out the jar of what claimed to be a tasty spread, I was happy to know that a lack of fire couldn't rob us of our New Mexican and Spanish traditional Christmas Eve Polvorones and Biscochitos.

You Can Lick, Just Don't Bite

This week's theme is lick.

I felt honoured that this Wallaby let her joey eat from my hand.  When Wallabies and Kangaroos eat from your hand you can often feel their rough tongue lick your hand.

I was at a wildlife park, and was feeding the animals with provided pellets.  You should never feed animals in the wild.  Feeding the wallabies at Cleland Wildlife Park is one of my favorite activities since Wallabies are so shy that it takes time and trust for them to actually come and eat from your hand.  When I first approached this Mom and her babe, the little one raced and jumped in her pouch, but eventually he decided to come out and visit with me.