Im re-writeing a previous post that was lost when the town i was in got struck by lightining frying the internet caffe i was in. Ariving at Arrowfeild in the Hunter Valey gives me stange feelings of De Ja Vu, its gently undulateing curves, brown dry land patchworked by vivid green irragated feilds and the vines in rows on every East faceing slope. It remids me of tuscany with bigger roads and stripmines, even the olive trees here seem very happy, with the horse stud next to Arrowfeild it feeles a bit to familiar. We spend our time at the wineary prepareing of hard camping in the bush, we work out a packing system that just fits all out stuff in Betty. We check maps and talk to the farmers, paticuarly Tony (a very nice, late
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