Hunter Valley and Willoma Pine (Oct 8 - 10)

White cows and brown sheep are scattered across the landscape, while dark green areas show the last remnants of the tropical trees within the deep crevasses. Something like a warm Britain passes before our eyes whilst driving south though the heart of New South Wales. The architecture is changing from modern boxey prefab California style homes to Victorian brickwork. We continue on wide two-lane roads in a British country side. Our goal to reach Hunter Valley was a little ambitious. Along the way, we are joined by French Canadian named Lucas, a knowledgeable traveller that kept the conversations diverse. We stop for the night at a caravan park in Maitland, which also appeared to double as the local hospice :-( . In the morning, we met an friendly, elderly farmer on the way who was in need of some company. He was quick to mention that he had cancer and was living his last days out there. Heart breaking. I wanted to chat longer, even share a cuppa, but short of time, we head off to Hunter Valley.

The Hunter Valley is know for the wine, White Semillon in particular. We only manage one winery called Peacock Winery and met a lively local with a lot to say and proud of his wine(see picture of me with him above). We walked away with a bottle of Shiraz and a Fortified wine (port) both red even though white is suppose to be better - not to our highly attune taste buds. This wine country seemed new even though the peacock man had been there 13 years. All other things including a Village with a British Toffee shop complete with military guard statue seemed no more than a couple of years old. We were left wondering what lay there before.

We took a famous Tracy short cut inland through a national park which had hair raising bends and several steep drops and no towns in 60 km. The view was beautiful. We hit a petrol station as night fell and learnt of a close by camp site. An option to go into town 23 km or stay in this national park called Willoma. We opted for the campsite. Unbeknownst to us, a long journey down a dark, one-lane unpaved road to the very bottom of the valley awaited us. We went over a scary bridge and passed a wonderfully smelly orange blossom field, but not a soul was around. Frustrated and lost, we find the nearest lit up building, a lodge. Tyler ventured in to ask directions. Apparently, we had gone too far. We retraced our steps over the bridge and took the only other turn available. We had landed in the middle of a large valley, a very, very dark valley just before 8 pm. A family was camped near the entrance, and we learned from them that the ranger would come by to pick up our fees 6 dollars each. A little nervous as booking is required, but since there was a lot of space we took our chances. A friendly ranger gave advice on how to get out, whilst we prepared our food. We cooked sausages and squash, but were unable to taste either as we got carried away with the garlic. Good thing we were on our own. The surrounding were highly memorable. In the pitch black of night, the moon and stars illuminated the ring of surrounding trees that completely enveloped us while gazing upwards. A valley of stillness. If only we could of stayed out longer to enjoy the human silence with the perfect chorus of the local birds, but the drop in temperature gave a chill to our bones and the warmth of the Hippie called us. By the way, Willoma Pine has the oldest living tree around that area of Australia, aged over 1000 years. We did not get to see these first hand though as only bush walkers can get close. Too close as unfortunately, they have been dying off since the arrival of western settlers...history repeats itself, real shame!