7th September 2009,
Woke up to see kangaroos grazing beside my room and water birds paddleing in the shallows of the lake.
Digger the dog has become my companion on short walks to the lakes edge.
Oyster beds raise their heads out of the depths and misty rain covers the mountains.
Rain, glorious rain. The locals say the landscape here is really suffering but it is lush in comparison to the desert landscape to which I am accustomed to.
Susan is up doing chores so off to Lorna's for a cuppa (and a warm muffin just out of the oven, yummy too)and to plan our itinery.
Getting my bearings so I dont get lost was first on the agenda, then meet some locals and of course the Tourist information Centre at Merimbula.
Wonderful friendly down to earth people in Pambula.
Merimbula is showing signs of suburbia but the beaches and the cliffs dotted with glass fronted houses still holds speck of hope that common sense will prevail.
The inlet and sandbar seems to embrace the bay, the boats moored, bobbing in the breeze.
The sandbar has the most gorgeous row of weatherboard boat sheds, which show that history is maybe not forgotten here in Merimbula.
It rained all day, I did not mind a bit and even the colours of the rocks captured my urge to snap the camera.
Tucked away near Pambula is a delightful beach nestled between cliff faces. I intend to return when the sun shines.
The highlight of my day though, was when I walked into a dress shop in Pambula.
It was like I had gone back in time with Dr Who in the tardis.
Origonal boxes of cottons, ribbons, and all sorts of haberdashery sitting on sturdy solid timber shelves as if it was where they should always have been and always will be. Origonal furniture and objects of days gone by and maniquins standing alongside in designer regala as if guarding the past but appeasing the commercial appeal of the present woman.
And as if to confirm my impression just to the right of the entrance there stood this glass cabinet.
Inside the cabinet, the life story of the oldest tax payer in Australia, Mrs Mac.
Outside the cabinet you could sense her approval and Mrs Mac's Emporium did not leave my mind for the rest of the day. I shall return.
Strange things seem to happen in Pambula. On my sightseeing drive I noticed the cemetry on the side of a mountain range with large timber forests in the background, with its wonderful old carved headstones covered in moist green moss. But one unusual thought stuck in my mind. All the gravestones face up the hill! I stopped and drove in, took a walk. Not one grave actually faces the town, they all face the forest. No one has been able to say why? as yet.
The food here is great, tucked away behind the RSL in Merimbula sits this little Thai lady, evidently a Dr's wife and what a lucky Dr he is. The chicken and mushroom soup is to die for.
The curries superb and the price beats cheap as chips any day.
I am yet to find a way to take some soup home with me.
Woke up to see kangaroos grazing beside my room and water birds paddleing in the shallows of the lake.
Digger the dog has become my companion on short walks to the lakes edge.
Oyster beds raise their heads out of the depths and misty rain covers the mountains.
Rain, glorious rain. The locals say the landscape here is really suffering but it is lush in comparison to the desert landscape to which I am accustomed to.
Susan is up doing chores so off to Lorna's for a cuppa (and a warm muffin just out of the oven, yummy too)and to plan our itinery.
Getting my bearings so I dont get lost was first on the agenda, then meet some locals and of course the Tourist information Centre at Merimbula.
Wonderful friendly down to earth people in Pambula.
Merimbula is showing signs of suburbia but the beaches and the cliffs dotted with glass fronted houses still holds speck of hope that common sense will prevail.
The inlet and sandbar seems to embrace the bay, the boats moored, bobbing in the breeze.
The sandbar has the most gorgeous row of weatherboard boat sheds, which show that history is maybe not forgotten here in Merimbula.
It rained all day, I did not mind a bit and even the colours of the rocks captured my urge to snap the camera.
Tucked away near Pambula is a delightful beach nestled between cliff faces. I intend to return when the sun shines.
The highlight of my day though, was when I walked into a dress shop in Pambula.
It was like I had gone back in time with Dr Who in the tardis.
Origonal boxes of cottons, ribbons, and all sorts of haberdashery sitting on sturdy solid timber shelves as if it was where they should always have been and always will be. Origonal furniture and objects of days gone by and maniquins standing alongside in designer regala as if guarding the past but appeasing the commercial appeal of the present woman.
And as if to confirm my impression just to the right of the entrance there stood this glass cabinet.
Inside the cabinet, the life story of the oldest tax payer in Australia, Mrs Mac.
Outside the cabinet you could sense her approval and Mrs Mac's Emporium did not leave my mind for the rest of the day. I shall return.
Strange things seem to happen in Pambula. On my sightseeing drive I noticed the cemetry on the side of a mountain range with large timber forests in the background, with its wonderful old carved headstones covered in moist green moss. But one unusual thought stuck in my mind. All the gravestones face up the hill! I stopped and drove in, took a walk. Not one grave actually faces the town, they all face the forest. No one has been able to say why? as yet.
The food here is great, tucked away behind the RSL in Merimbula sits this little Thai lady, evidently a Dr's wife and what a lucky Dr he is. The chicken and mushroom soup is to die for.
The curries superb and the price beats cheap as chips any day.
I am yet to find a way to take some soup home with me.
Keep posted.
Dee
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