Melbourne - Snowy Mountains

Our last night in Melbourne was almost balmy. I enjoyed the urban sunset on offer and tried to settle down to an early night. My strategy was to commence the children on a schedule that might approximate what they will face once school begins.  It has proved almost impossible to get the kids asleep before 10:00pm due to both the longitude and latitude – further south and further west. In truth, it is probably more to do with just not having much routine.

After packing up, we followed the Western Ring Road out past Tullamarine. There was a collective cheer when we turned north to Sydney on the Hume Expressway. Our goal today was Albury/Wadonga. It’s a pretty uneventful drive up a pretty uneventful dual carriageway, however we did stop at a cute little place called Euroa. We had to call in and check on the family business.

We arrived mid afternoon in Wadonga – and quickly realised that it is the poorer cousin to Albury. The local bakery did have a giant rolling pin and the visitors centre was most helpful in finding a number of options for our stay.  The Wadonga racetack fit our bill perfectly.  Space, serenity, running water  - and a few locals hanging around the “Mens Shed” just behind the camping area. The stars were on display again and I revelled in my ability to sit out under them and enjoy a cuppa. I waved a few of the local shed men goodbye and started to ponder what life after our adventure would be like. I’ll miss the stars and the sunsets.

The following day was hard going. The road between Wadonga and Jindabyne is narrow and winding. Rod dropped into the police station at Tallangatta to check on road conditions. It must have a very low crime rate in Tallangatta district as the very helpful constable confirmed in a matter of minutes the suitability of the road but then took a further 45 minutes to regale Rod with his own travelling adventures.

We had a pit stop at Cooryong and paid our respects to the Man from Snowy River.

 The road is hard work but my darling husband powered through without complaint.  We also had a look at the Murray river power station No. 2. As usual, I attempted to ensure the children garnered considerable educational benefit - but they seemed more interested in the kiosk and the fact a brown snake had been spotted in the toilets. 

Team Burton rolled into Jindabyne like we owned the place, struck camp and then made our plans for an assault on our nation’s peak – Kosciuszko.

The forecast up the mountain that day was for afternoon showers and high winds. For anyone else, this may have been a deterrent. We were on the chairlift before 10:00am.  Now, before I continue, I must explain that we did cheat a bit by taking the lift from Thredbo. Rod and I have done the complete round trip from Charlottes Pass a number of years ago, but felt that Andrew may struggle a bit with that one - it's about 22k altogether.  And besides, the chairlift is fun.

When we stepped off at 1930 meters, the wind tore at our cloths and snatched our breath. Rod and I looked at each other and silently considered the possibility that we may not make it in such conditions.  Fortunately the wind seemed to come in waves and we marched forth. It took a little encouragement and coaching to keep the team on track but by Rawsons Pass we knew we had the mountain's measure.

We have tramped our way around southern Australia - Flinders Ranges, Mount Wuddina, Coffin Bay NP, Innes NP, Mt Victoria crater walk, The Grampians, Mt Arapilies, Mt Buffalo, The Nut, Cradle Mountain, Mt Wellington, Freycinet, Bay of Fires and now Kosciuszko. Georgia's shoes tell the tale..

Rod came across an old school friend with his family . We chatted happily at the summit and then walked back to the Eagles Nest café together.  After a well-deserved coffee (7/10 – quite drinkable) we descended the mountain victorious. It was a very special way to spend our last full day on the road.

That afternoon we felt we deserved a few lazy hours at camp. I enjoyed putting my weary knees up for a rest and gazing out to Lake Jindabyne.  Andrew was keen to mix it up down at the skate park, so we all wandered down to the village and then kicked on at the local pizza joint. My excuse was that we should eat out and empty the fridge for our journey home, but actually, it was pure slothfulness.  I love sloths.

Staying at van parks has its advantages such as power,  hot showers, microwaves. But on long weekends, a van park also offers “ the Yobo”. The Yobo usually drives a big4WD ute, sometimes an SUV, often with questionable stickers on the bumper. They are all “good blokes” and have wives/girlfriends with questionable dress sense. The most tell-tale feature is a big esky.

So, it’s Friday Night – you can spot the Yobos already, but one hopes they will show some courtesy. Sadly as the beer consumption rises, the courtesy drops. What I find amusing is how other campers respond. Rod and I have become quite tolerant and understand that it is just a fact of camp life. Some other campers are a little more verbose, and that’s when it really gets interesting.  I don’t know why, but it seems to be women who start yelling out to “Give it a break!”

To their credit, The Jindabyne Yobos did eventually settle down at about 2:30am.  The next morning was our last, so we felt no need to serve retribution but you could just see other campers plotting their revenge!

Last day.  It is what it is. Last time to pack up.  Last hitch. Last shower whilst wearing thongs. Mixed feelings – but still work to be done. We ain’t home yet.