Micalong Creek Revisited - A Gust Too Far

We travelled from Sydney through the night past scurrying rabbits and wallabies, to reach Micalong just behind a convoy of brightly coloured 4WDs haring down the road. As we drove down the hill to the creek, all around campfires glowed beneath the starlit sky. For the next day or so, we watched galahs, king parrots, and the antics of our camping neighbours.

Highlight of the late afternoon was the tripod-assisted, camp oven meal of rice and chicken cooked to perfection over the fire and accompanied by a chilled white wine.

 
On Sunday, we noticed a change in the weather, clouds turning to spatters of rain. As we sat under the awning playing Scrabble, we heard a loud roaring above the hill. Suddenly, we were engulfed by a whirlwind of dust and huge elemental forces flicked the awning up in the air like a paper toy, before flopping it with a thud over the other side of the campervan.

Stranded in the open, Scrabble on the ground, table upended, I raced for my cap. Camping neighbours from all around came to the rescue. One look at the mangled awning wreckage was enough to say: "Cut off the awning, take a pic for the insurance, gather up the detritus to carry away."
With the help of a neighbour with a ratchet wrench, we undid the torn fittings; then opened the Eskie for a bottle of chilled white wine to commiserate.

Next day we wound our way back over Wee Jasper bridge and drove to Sutton, just outside Canberra, to Top Tulip Farm which was tucked away in a valley with dazzling beds of tulips in rainbow colours and blooming cherry trees.

The picture reminded of an Impressionist painting, with white chairs and tables on the lawns, marquees for sausage sizzle and dainty Dutch pancakes - serenaded by a soulful singer and her band.