A good blog but beware of tour guides.

Frogdancer travels rather a lot, and her blog is a good read as she writes with wit, humour and some self deprecation. As I write she is about to visit Machu Picchu by train.

During a recent tour she posted about something a guide told her group. A quick Google and AI check definitely says this is untrue, in spite of how cruel the Spanish were.

The Inca men had long ponytails down to their hips. The Spanish would tie the men’s hands behind their backs, then tie their ponytails to their testicles. Then they’d castrate them.

I can't remember the 'fact' we were told on the open topped New York hop on, hop off bus, but I was suspicious and I checked and it was totally wrong.

This photo taken from the top of the bus, and I don't know what the statue is about, probably in lower Manhattan. Of course I could Google it, but maybe one of you already know. 

Rottnest Island, Western Australia, to paraphrase the tour guide, "We don't have an electricity connection to the island from the mainland, so we generate all of our electricity here on the island, and any excess goes back to Perth (mainland)". I guess that is by osmosis. 

Quokka barrier at the Rottnest Island supermarket. 

Castlemaine 4

I had a train to catch, a return journey on the Goldfields Railway. Naturally as a person of my social standing, I had booked a first class train ticket. I ate some cereal in my motel room, checked out at 10.00 and drove the five minutes to railway station. I was very early but that meant I had time to find a nearby parking space, ascertain that the train left from Platform 3 and I could access it via a subway and an upward ramp. No lift!

At Platform 1 was a coffee kiosk, and the coffee made by an old bloke* was better than I expected. I sat on a nicely shaded seat outside the station and drank my coffee before making my way to Platform 3 where my ticket was checked and I was told to head to the rear of the platform where there was a red carpeted ramp to board the train. There was much manoeuvring of the the train engine to get it into place for the journey, which was fun to see. Ah, did I mentions a steam engine was hauling the train carriages?

The train staff were all lovely, especially the first class carriages host. The train was not particularly busy, but I was very conscious that I was single traveller among couples and family groups. It does take some time to become used to be a single after 45 years of being a couple. No one spoke to me, but then I didn't make an effort to speak to anyone. Ray would have certainly been chatting to someone and perhaps pulling me into the conversation. 

Smoke rising while the engine gets up a head of steam.

What a handsome beast.

I walked up the red carpet to board and this looked very comfortable, along with being quite beautiful.

I can see where I've been.

There were some sleeper compartments. The seat will make a bed and the fancy woodwork above the seat will drop down to make another bed. In one corner was a drop down metal wash basin.

It was quite a chilly morning and the host informed us that the next first class coach had heating. 

It did, by way of a split system reverse cycle air conditioning unit that can be seen in this photo. 

Meanwhile back in the rear first class carriage, a little fire was burning to warm us. But given a woman had her legs over the front of the flickering fire, I guess that was fake news. 

We had just crossed a viaduct, ok, a very modest viaduct.

We arrived in the very historic town Maldon after a very relaxing 45 minute journey, with the train reaching its peak speed of 40 km/h/25. This artwork was in the adjacent park.

Err yeah, whatever.

I couldn't believe how much gushing water was flowing into the train's water tank. It's a thirsty beast. 

It is not for me to judge Maldon by a one hour visit, but I am glad I changed my mind from staying in Maldon and choosing Castlemaine. As I walked the short distance to the town proper for some sustenance, a Sikh man passed me by walking with great purpose on the footpath. I saw him later emerge back at Castlemaine from a train compartment. He was clearly a solo traveller too. We could have chummed up and discussed our common interest.

An incinerator smoke stack of some kind. Ok, minimal research, it is gold mining related. They knew how to lay bricks in 1863. 

The engine had done a run around and was now at what was the back of the train, with our balcony facing the back of the engine.

While after the train trip, I am driving home, I think I owe Hercules Poirot by having one gin and tonic in the art deco carriage. The bar/cafe is visible in this photo.

Yes, quite good fun being behind the hard working engine. 

I was so relaxed during the return journey, time sped by, and once back at Castlemaine Station, I headed for home, with one brief stop off to stretch my legs, back, neck, hips, knees etc. I dunno about this travelling alone caper. The second weekend of May will see me away for a bit but with family and my lads. My nieces and nephew will be there, with my eight great nieces and nephews, along with four inherited great nieces and nephew. 

*Younger than me but still comparatively an old bloke. My age self awareness continues its delusional state.

Castlemaine 3

After brunch I returned to my digs and a friend who lives half an hour away arrived for a catch up. In his car, we visited what I think was Blackbird Cafe for coffee and cake.Then a short distance away is the Castlemaine Botanic Gardens. 

The deciduous trees had just began to turn to their autumn colours.

Ducks in the park. What fun. 

An aerator in the water keeps oxygen levels up to prevent algae growth.

Here is an amusing story I came across today about the Castlemaine Botanic Gardens.

In 1892 there was clearly amusement in the media at the story of a ‘stout old lady’ who fell into the botanic gardens lake while drunk. She was fished out of the 8-foot deep water ‘with great difficulty,’ but was still clutching her beer bottle when she reappeared.

 

The fountain was renovated in about 2011.

A wedding had happened and within the park there was a building where they could celebrate with a reception.

There were many of these concrete tables and benches, all fenced off. Cleary something had happened but does it affect them all?

That would be Charles and Diana? No, of course not. Look at the date, 1863. More than one of you will know. Do inform me. It was Victoria's tree of the year in 2021. I think the tree is an oak.

Yes, of course it is an oak.

We walked the circumference of the park but at times sat on seats and gossiped away about all sorts of things, like two old aunties who have known each other for forty years would do.

In the foreground is a sculpture and we were impressed that a very hot young daddy let his children climb all over the sculpture without calling out, come down darling children, you might hurt yourselves. Hot young daddy even tried to climb himself, but wisdom stopped him going up too far.

Dinner was a frozen takeaway supermarket meal, quite edible after being heated in the microwave. Next, ridin' the rails. 

Castlemaine 2

In the morning I looked for a place to sit and have brunch. The former Post Office was impressive. 

I visited the tourist information centre, within a former market place building. There were quite a number of volunteers, but I did not need help. These, well I don't know what to call them, but there were quite a number of them, all very impressive.

I've no idea what this is, perhaps related to mining. 

The old station was demolished and the station clock sent to Melbourne for disposal. It was rescued by locals. The face says, Christian Lange, 99 Strand, London. 

A memorial to a long forgotten politician.

I discovered Saffs Cafe and ate brunch there, with a very welcome cup of coffee. Don't sit near the doorway at the rear of the cafe. The timber floor bounced, as I did, every time someone walked past.

On the outskirts of town was what was called a 'direction marker'.  There weren't any directions to the marker. I saw a car parked on the gravel road I was driving along and a single sign that did not point to the marker but there was a track leading into the bushland. Along the uphill path I walked for few minutes and came to this structure, built for whatever reason, then a simple rotunda.

There were two of these very odd concrete benches. 

This must be the signal marker, although there wasn't a sign indicating anything. I will guess that at some point the hill was cleared of trees so that the marker was visible from wherever. 

Next, two old aunties chatting on a bench. 

Mount Macedon Part 2

With Phyllis almost competently at the wheel, we headed on the direct route to the Organ Pipes National Park. We missed the turn towards the airport and City Link and so had to journey on to the Western Ring Road. I doubt it added much time and perhaps $10 was saved in road tolls charged by the usurious company that runs private roads in Australia.

Phyllis did make one grave driving mistake. In spite of the projected image on the windscreen that shows you the presence of cars either side of you, and an orange indicating light on each side mirror, he started to move into a left lane when there was a car there. From the passenger seat I saw the orange light on the mirror and as raised my voice, at the same time he saw the car. He had moved for too far left for my liking, and in spite of me asking why he did so, I don't really know.

We stopped at the Organ Pipes National Park and even though it was our football grand final day, it was surprisingly busy, but mostly by Indian immigrants who would not be so interested in Australian Rules Football. This is Jackson Creek, flowing past the base of the geological formation. 

I did not walk down the steep hill because I would need to walk back up the steep hill, and it is very steep, although the path has been asphalted since the last time we visited. The photo above and below were taken by Phyllis.

I spent the time above admiring the scenery. What was very degraded farmland, full of pest weeds and foreign plants, along with non native animals, became a national park and has been restored to native bushland and grasses, and the pest animal species are constantly monitored and dealt with. Bang, bang, Mr Fox and Mrs Rabbit. There are marvellous volunteers who help, and many who have since died who got the project off the ground. 

Here we are at Mount Macedon township and it was as gorgeous as I remembered from the photos I posted in Part 1. I will suggest, and from what my research tells me, per capita, this is the most wealthy area in rural Victoria. 

I needed coffee and Phyllis made a reverse parallel park in the main street, as a family were loading stuffs into their car in front. The man must have noticed the L plates on my car and told Phyllis, he did a better job parking that he did himself. Phyllis was quite chuffed, of course. Kind offhand words of praise go down well. Coffee was taken at The Trading Post, which is I think is the place commented by Roentare in Part 1. 

I thought these flat grasses were interesting. 

Wattles, that is Acacias, are in full bloom. 

In the early days of the State of Victoria there were three trig points, and this one at Mount Macedon was one of them. I should look up the other two. Yes, I should. Note the spooks equipment peeking from the left of the tower. 

The equipment to the left looks like phone coverage equipment. The equipment to the right looks like spook equipment to me. 

We needed nourishment. Phyllis had made some to eat. Beef, pork or chicken. Take your pick. I ate two. Kosov ate four. I have noticed he has put on weight over the last year, but then so have I. This is a photo resembling what we ate.

There's a lad I know in the centre.

The views really are spectacular..

The tea rooms were closed for renovations. But there was a food van that supplied me with a double espresso and them with a can of soft drink to share. 

So that is wrap to a very enjoyable day, and we were home before 3.