'There are clifftop walks all around Portland.'
'Goody. Why are you telling me this?'
'Because yesterday you said you loved clifftop walks. Or was that just to LURE ME TO MY DEATH?!?'
I had become more diligent in my role as photographer, mostly by taking a photo whenever Caroline pointed out anything of interest to her. That is why I have two photos, taken from the Twelve Apostles Carpark, of a cow. They are such awesome shots that they are dangerous to put on teh interweb for fear that your eyeballs will explode instantly.
We took a leisurely drive back to the Twelve Apostles Part 2 and (executing a planned u-turn) then headed west again to Loch Ard Gorge (named after the ship that wrecked here), the Arch, London Bridge and the Bay of Islands just past Peterborough.
Loch Ard Gorge
Loch Ard Gorge
Xanthorrhoea flower spike.
The cheese place was so disappointing that I can't write about it.
A little known gem is the Tower Hill Game Reserve. Not herds of wilderbeast and one-legged warriors silhouetted by the setting sun, but a large volcanic crater that was cleared and then regenerated. Serendipitously I took the wrong turn-off and we ended up on the outer rim looking south into the crater. The structure was perfectly apparent - the sea had eroded the southern third of the rim but not quite reached the central mound. The c-shaped crater is a seasonal swamp; at times almost completely submerged by rainwater.
Entering the reserve proper I almost ran over a koala. A hundred metres on, five emus were foraging in the rushes. Walking tracks cover the slopes of the central mound, and raised boardwalks allow the snake infested swamp to be traversed. On the drive out we saw black swans resting and then a marsh harrier flew overhead. I stopped the car just before the exit to get more shots down into the crater when the marsh harrier flew past below me and called. I looked for the harrier's mate and saw her and, presumably, their adolescent offspring. We were treated to ten minutes of graceful soaring.
If you are in the area you must go there.
The Codrington wind farm wasn't giving tours that day so we observed from the distant carpark. We met an expat English duo and had a chat. Caroline started singing my praises.
'You're not actually allowed to sell me to these people, you know!'