It’s quite cold and my tent is damp when I get up for a 6a.m. breakfast, but I warm up by the fire.
We drive to Wilson’s Promontory, the southern most point of Australia. Before a days walking, we set up camp in a campsite brimming with Crimson Rosellas (or at least that’s what I think they are from searching on the internet), cartoonishly red and blue birds which are tame enough to rest on Big John’s arm as he feeds them crisps.
We go for a climbing walk up a gravel path passing a telegraph station to the peak of Mount Oberon, where we have a commanding but tranquil view over Oberon Bay, where the retreating sea has left lakes and marsh lands.
In the evening after dinner, Steve suggests we go for a walk to find some echidnas or wombats, as this is the time they come out. I stay behind. Some people come back saying they have seen a ‘wisdom’ of wombats, but they needn’t have bothered as soon wombats are crawling around our bus, one even wandering obliviously through the middle of our circle of seats.
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| photo courtesy of the Bennell |
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