We'v had opportune to be 'tourists' (tho we don't consider ourselves tourists in the strictest sense, as, while living in our bed-on-wheels – Buzz – we are 'home' wherever we are). We strolled the streets of Parkes; photos of The Dish (remember that great Aussie movie with that mega huge satelite dish – yeah, there), took photos of rusty yesteryear cars in their graveyard at Peak Hill and stopped to take random photos at stuff like a huge dragon or a war-time airforce plane outside Dubbo. We hit the museum/art gallery at Gilgandra Cooee Heritage Centre, marvelled again at the spectacular Warrumbungles mountain range of odd shapes and sizes and even went to Uranus (don't ask – see facebook photo).
We op-shopped for warmer clothes at Coonabarabran, the astronomy capital of Australia, met a 67year-old Aussie truckdriver named Wes at the Pilliga No 2 Rest Stop 25k from Narabri where we spent one night.We snapped pics and fondled and marvelled over how cotton grows (didn't know it actually GROWS in cotton balls!) & particularly noticed that there is not a drop of water anywher out here.DRY DRY!!
The land is flat & empty for so long & for so far that even the horizon shimmers fuzzy and there becomes a transfixing fascination in the land's nothingness – when even the odd soldier-like telegraph poles hold a beauty all their own.
The Grain Corps machinery, towers, silos and mounds break the monotony of outback country driving, with roadsides sprinkled with cotton until, in contrast to the dry reality, it resembles a winter snow wonderland.
From Gurly to Moree where the watertower with its lone tall palm tree and a surprisingly friendly young lad fishing in the filthy, slimy stream in the park held our fascination. The artisian waterways, pools and spas and thermal springs did their job in lurring us into the Weir to 'bath' under the midday sun, where we disturbed an echidna during a grassy stroll.
A massive Peecan plantation broke the dusty, brown plains and suddently the countryside changed into hills and contours as if on cue. Through Gravesend where the cattle roam the roads – even up the centre. Onto Bingara where the Gwydir River provided the perfect campsite for swimming, sunbaking, resting, reading and sprucing ourselves up.
The massive, impressive Copeton Dam came next, before we tumbled into Pastor Greg and Lydal's home in Inverell for cuppas and rough re-introductions and rich hospitality.