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nov 16, 2000
Rafting and TAFE-ing in New South Wales... (more)
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nov 08, 2000
Wine, Horse Races, Roos on the Ridge and, yes! a bit of work... (more)
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nov 05, 2000
3 B's Tour east of Canberra: Bywong, Braidwood, and Batemans Bay... (more)
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nov 03, 2000
A day at the galleries... (more)
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nov 02, 2000
Meetings at CIT and attending an online conference ... (more)
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oct 30, 2000
CIT, Canberra, and sights seen ... (more)
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With all of this jet travel and high living, I welcomed a chance to slow down and get back to the woods. Luckily, some folks at the Albury TAFE campus were interested in showing me the Ozzie camping scene, so Friday I headed out with Rod and Brian to a spot on the Kiewa River, in Victoria.
The spot is known as "Chicks Camp", which surprisingly is not sexist but named after a family named "Chicks". The land is right along the Kiewa and part of a property leased by cattle ranchers. The place is supposedly old and has grown by accretion. The floor is poured concrete, the roof tin on wood beams, and the walls are... open to the world.
Inside is a solid brick fireplace and a wood burning stove. There is every type of implement one might need, plus plates, cups, pots, pans, easy chairs, tables, bed frames, mattresses, a wood pile... It hardly seems like "roughing" it! But the key feature is the babbling creek that runs right next to the cabin. It provides a sottinh backdrop more pleasent than those little water fountains they sell in the gift shops.
Dinner is a lamb and veggie stir fry... lacking a wood spoon (see, the camp does not have everything!) we improvise with a stick sterilized in the fire. Later in the evening, after the first of many wine bottles are opened, we are greeted by a localo resident, a curious grey possum. He checks out the wine bottle, wrinkles his nose, and walks off.
It should also be mentioned that in the evening actvity of wine identification trivia, hosted by Brian, Alan scores an international victory over Rod, not by virtue of wine knowledge but luck in guessing the answers to the questions.
In the morning, we rise at the crack of 10 to eat and head to the river in search of fish. The river is very high and fast, and pretty much challenging. My bet is that all of the fish are sitting in the nearby Mt Beauty Pub. The score in the International Fishing Competition is a draw (American 0 and Australian 0).
One of the treats was a taste of Cascade Light, a beer from Tasmania whose label portrays what looks like striped dog. I was informed that it was actually a Tasmanian Tiger, a marsupial wiped out by early sheep farming settlers. People still claim to see it in the wild, but it is not confirmed.
In the late afternoon a loud, intense thunderstorm rides down the valley, just at the time that Gail has arrived to bring me back to Albury (I need to leave camp to get to Sydney the next day). We are treated to a fine dinner of stew cooked the slow way in a cast iron pot in the coals. Yum. Don't you wish you were here?
Unfortunately I could not stay a second night, but relish the memory of a relaxing, lazy time at the peaceful "Chicks Camp".
