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Published: February 21st 2007
The Farm
All it lacks is bucolic sheep.A lovely breakfast awaited us when we got up this morning courtesy of our lovely hosts. Kerry & Adrian Turnbull are the current owners of the Drawing Rooms, but it's up for sale. This little gem could be all yours for a measly 2.98 million. Any takers?
Today we decided to go to the hobby farm that Dave's dad owns. It's in Ulladulla (uh-la-duh-la) and is about a 1.5 hr. drive from Berry. No, I didn't drive. I don't understand the roundabouts. They're double-laned and I get confused as to who has the right of way in what lane. No thanks!
The farm is located in Meroo National Park, down a steep, gravelly road. In its heyday, it boasted a vineyard, some cows, a little forest, and a pond filled with platypuses. Sadly, due to inuse, it's become overgrown and the cows and platypuses are no more. The house is a one-bedroom affair with a porch, BBQ area, shed, and garden. Around the perimeter of the house there are wire fences to keep the kangaroos out. Yeah right. There ain't no wild kangaroos in Oz. They're all in captivity. But
The Farm
The fencing around the house to keep the snuffleupaguses... er, sorry, kangaroos out. still, hope springs eternal and I park myself down on a tree stump.
Dave fixes the fence and climbs up onto the roof to repair it. Ho hum... should've brought a picnic lunch with me... and put on sunscreen but I'll never learn. Ho hum... gee, these ants are really big; do I have a book in the van?; Christ he's taking forever on the roof - what's the hold up?
The hold up turned out to be a discovery of a diamond-back python. Upon closer (?!?!?) inspection, and a brief freakout dance, Dave confirmed that said python was not alive (Thank God for small miracles) and it was only its moulted shell. Apparently, they like to bask on top of roofs and live under the eaves and prey on rodents. But if the discarded skin is hanging around on the roof, then surely the real deal is somewhere nearby. Dave chucks his finding onto the ground near my feet and scrambles down.
WOW. Crispin, as we've christened it, is HUGE... we calculated that the new and improved (and shinier) Crispin should be at least 7 feet in length. It's hard to say since the skin is
The Farm
Platypus-less pond. I don't blame them! bunched up around the head area. I'm contemplating how many pairs of shoes and accessories I can make out of it. But no, we decide to save him and make him our mascot for the roadtrip. So Crispin now lives in the back of the van.
Time to go, but it wasn't as easy as it sounds. The van is stuck at the bottom of a steep, one-way path that is very gravelly. The "road" is dusty from the lack of rain and there's absolutely no traction on it. The van won't reverse. There's nowhere to turn it around as the gates to the farm are locked (we had to hop over the fence to access the grounds). Drama time. Dave is pissed off, the wheels are spinning like mad, the scent of burned rubber is infusing the air, I'm trying to be helpful in a non-helpful way which results in me getting told off, Crispin is agitated, I'm getting mosquito bites from hiding in the bushes so that I don't get run over... well, you get the drift. After about an hour of reversing, sliding down the hill, reversing, gaining a little ground, sliding down the hill, me
The Farm
Boys and girls, say hello to Crispin. trying to push the van as Dave's reversing, starting over, Dave swearing at me for not pushing hard enough, me swearing back at Dave for swearing at me, gaining just a smidgen more ground... HALLELUJAH! We're out of the ditch. All is well. But now I'm starving, which as anyone knows, is not a good thing.
Went for a well-deserved drink at the pub. I've become accustomed to Strongbow Sweet Cider. If they had this in Canada, I'd be in AA for sure.
Tried to feed the ducks again. Didn't work so I gave up. Had dinner at the pub. Did I mention that I'm starting to love pub food?
Home time... tomorrow we leave Berry and head for Kiama.
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