Yes, I know. You're jealous. Green, green, green with envy. I know it's your dream and I can hear you saying, "No, you haven't!" But, I have. I really truly have.
AND I've driven past the turn off to Tallangatta
AND to Baranduda
AND to Tangambalanga. Try saying that one after a couple of glasses of red and see how you fare.
Town names like these are intriguing. There has to be a good reason. I'm sure they all have beautiful meanings in their Indigenous tongue. I must investigate.
Mr Google would know.
They roll off the tongue … once you've spent about 15 minutes discussing possible pronunciations … and then deciding that you're really not sure which one is correct.
Regardless, they are in the midst of the most spectacular countryside: fertile pastures, almost lime green, covered by a rolling morning mist, in a valley nestled between forested hills.
A mixture of dairy and beef, plus goat, alpaca and deer farms.
Collections of letter boxes announce each small intersection.
Rural Australia. Rural Victoria.
Yackandandah is any weekender's paradise. Coffee, cake,
history
and, of course, antiques and collectables.
Beechworth, close by, and not so intriguingly named, wears its Ned Kelly and Eureka Stockade heritage proudly on its sleeve.
This tree is said to have been the meeting place to plan the Stockade. A place of rebellion, gathering, nation building.
Its trunk deformed from the tradition of leaving messages nailed here for your mate to collect.
Pre-Australia Post obviously. Pre-email obviously.
The streets are lined with stone buildings used to secure the gold and send the telegrams. ("What is a telegram???" I hear some ask. Well, they were in the days before …)
And a commanding Shire Hall.
And churches filled with coloured light and steepled ceilings.
Beechworth's streets revel in history.
And lure the weekend traveller with sweets
and bread
and delights to have with coffee.
Beechworth Bakery bread is famous. One doesn't go to Beechworth without visiting the bakery.
One. Just. Does. Not.
This little piece of whimsy caught my eye as we walked Beechworth's streets.
A talented knitter with time and endless talent to create BBQ delights.
This is almost alpine country. The air is crisp and there's a chill that suggests there may be snow on the alps tonight.
Road signs suggest someone, somewhere in authority, actually has a sense of humour.
The drive to Bright is up and over, through stately eucalyptus forest.
Bright sits on the Ovens River which would be tantalisingly cool in summer.
I'd love to scream down this slide even though I'd probably have to tussle with a crowd of eager kids. Wouldn't you?
But this afternoon, as the temperature starts to drop, we understand the need for this …
Don't think I've ever seen heated umbrellas before. Have you?
And as we drive back to our place of rest, I have to force MLP to stop so I can capture this.
Must get cold here if they have to wrap up the houses in blankets?!?
And the mighty Murray.
Even managed to see Russell Morris live at the local SSA Club.
Yes, Russell Morris as in The Real Thing, Russell Morris.
(What Real Thing??? I hear some ask. Well, that was in the days before …)
Have you been to Yackandandah?
Tallangatta??
Baranduda???
Tangambalanga????
What did you think?
What did you think?
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