Life has been getting in the way of blogging. Mostly that's not a bad thing. There has been a twilight fete, hanging out with friends, reading books, going to work, restoring my sewing area to order. But there has also been shattering tiredness/drowsiness, so much so that I've been going to bed at 9.30 and can't drive (my Dr did admit that taking two lots of medication at full dose might have that effect). Also I pulled my achilles tendon when I was off work sick. Don't know how exactly, but I very first injured it when I was a fit twenty something doing step reebok (I know, hard to imagine but there you have it). I limped and hobbled while we were away, strapping it up and taking painkillers before walking any distance. It was a pain. Anyway last week, the achilles was nearly better but then I wore shoes and walked at a normal pace on the night of the fete and was back to square one. So finally I am going to go and see a physio about it. More appointments. Yep, that has been another thing keeping me busy. Appointments. Yech.
Ok, camping. After Corringle Slips we headed to Cape Conran. It was beautiful but wet. So wet that after a day out in the rain and a mysterious wet spot under my mattress (no leak in the roof of the tent and it was dry underneath when we took it down), I suggested we decamp to a cabin. G was keen on sitting the rain out but Grace loved the idea of a cabin. It was a very good move. We were able to dry out all our wet clothes and damp bedding and have a timely hot shower (mid trip and we were starting to get stinky). I also freaked Grace out by getting a tick which G had to remove. I found it hard to leave the cabin, I got to read and relax, so we ended up staying two nights. We had a day sightseeing where everyone cracked the shits at some point and no-one got what they wanted. Which was a bit funny considering the day before when we went out in the pouring rain, ate lunch in the car then went for a walk in our rain coats.
After Cape Conran, we started heading home. Deciding that the Princes Hwy is a mind numbingly boring drive, and you have to drive through endless suburbia to get to the northern suburbs, we decided to go home via Mt Hotham. Bear in mind that we were not sharing the driving. On account of the shitload of drugs I was on. Gerard did not complain at all and indeed I think he quite liked it. We do also have a policy that the driver gets to choose the music and although I put my foot down towards the end of the history of American folk, he enjoyed having control of the usb/cd drive. Perhaps he was afraid I might play Beth Orton. That night, we camped at Victoria Falls, just past Omeo, where we managed to catch the opshop on the only day it opened, just before it closed. Victoria Falls, while not exactly bush, was a great campsite with rubbish toilets (as Grace called them) and tent sites with camp fires, seating and picnic tables. And beautiful sub alpine views.
The next morning we headed off, having a picnic lunch just past Mount Hotham, before heading down to the opshops of Bright and Myrtleford. As I said in part one, we were going to camp another night but barrelled home along the Hume instead. At one of the roadside stops, G got me to look at the back of his neck. He had a tick too. It was quite good to arrive home, but we are planning some more adventures.