New South Wales. On the plains, for sure

We did not go in to the centre of Dubbo, due to too much traffic and running slightly late.  We needed to get out onto the road.  Hope we did not miss anything. 

But which way?   There are four main roads out Dubbo.  The Newell Highway north, which is the one we drove in on, and from which the Castlereagh Highway diverges north west to outback Queensland.   There is the Mitchell Highway which travels north west to Bourke and beyond.  And from this highway there is the Barrier Highway to Broken Hill and beyond.  And we could have taken the Mitchell Highway south east to Sydney.

But we took the fourth road, the Newell Highway south, and we were definitely on the plains now.   Mostly flat countryside, very few hills, and long straight roads, with gum trees on either side and kilometres of grain crops.   However, the land was not dry, due to good rain in winter and spring.

We stopped for coffee in Parkes, the home of the Parkes Observatory.  I think I expected more from Parkes, and did not get it.  A boring town really, with not much on offer, in shopping, cafes or in style.   It is, however, a major regional centre.

Discount Dave's appeared to be booming, perhaps it was a statement about the local rural economy.

At last I managed to capture a photograph of a Jacaranda tree in full flower.  These trees are breathtakingly beautiful when out in flower.

When we drove through this area in December 1982, we stayed in the camping ground in Forbes, 33 kilometres south.  We camped by the river, Walter and me, and our four children, in our two tents.   There were also hordes of mosquitoes.   We had an early Christmas on Christmas Eve, packed up at around 4 am on Christmas Day, and drove north to Armidale.

Lunch today was in a park in Wyalong, luckily not by the sprinklers as they were set to come on at 1 pm.  But I guess it would have cooled us off.  The beer, see empty bottle in photograph, was non alcoholic!

We then drove into West Wyalong, 5 kilometres south, in search of an after lunch espresso.  A cute little town, with two bends in the main street, instead of the usual dead straight street.

And we found an airconditioned pub that sold coffee.  It was so lovely to sit on the leather couches, and drink our coffee and sip our lime and soda drinks.  Quite luxurious after our park bench lunch.

We returned to Wyalong, which one must not get confused with its neighbour, West Wyalong, and took the Goldfields Way, a minor road, south.

At this point we could have taken the Mid Western Highway west, through the most boring Hay plains, until we reached Mildura, and then it would have been a reasonably short trip to Adelaide.  This was our normal route when travelling to and from Brisbane.  But not today.

 We took a few moments to reflect on the trip we made in our mustard coloured VW Combi van, in 1982, with four children placed strategically in four corners with sleeping bags and pillows in between to stop any fighting or messing about.  We had no airconditioning, so tied the small side windows back in order to get some air flow.   Every time we stopped, Walter had to crawl under the van and hit the starter motor with a spanner to get the van going again.  The outside temperatures were in the high 30s or early 40s, and the Hay plains was a mass of swirling dust due to a drought.  It was some trip, but we survived.  We also had very patient children, when I think of the number of hours we travelled each day.

But back to the Goldfields Way.   A much quieter road.  Although the straightness of it, plus the glare, resulted in me nodding off.  Luckily I was not driving.

Our speed was 100 kmh, as according to the road signs.  Yet we were overtaken by a huge semi trailer.  No speed limits for this big brute, which quickly disappeared from view afterwards.

We drove through towns with the unlikely names of Temora and Junee.  Junee is beside the the Sydney to Melbourne train line.

The workman, in the photograph below, wearing the fly net under his hat and over his face, in order to keep the flies off his face.  He told us the flies would drive him crazy if he did did not wear it, standing there on the hot tarmac.   Too many flies to get rid of, using the great Aussie wave, which we had been perfecting during our travel through NSW.

The stop for the night was in Wagga, Wagga, 100 kilometres from the New South Wales/Victoria border.  When we reach it, we would have driven about 1440 kilometres.