We found the small reserve way up a dozen backroads - we were the only prospective visitors and we found a neat little campsite by a running creek. Rain was forecast and we had a few light showers through the night.

2nd December Wednesday

Mal stuck his head out of Vicki and the sky was clear blue, well that did not last long. All through the day light showers popped over the hill to the North and then sailed away to the South West.

We walked up to the falls about 150 meters upstream. The falls are modest and fall into what was obviously a popular swimming hole is decade past. Ther rusty remains of a foundation for a diving board still remains. Above the pool a old pine tree clasps a rock between his toes in a desperate attempt to stay upright.

Unfortunately the consumption of alcohol and the discarded beer bottles and cans degrade the experience. Mal asks are these spread around by our proud Australians who say they love the country they live in? Seriously one could fill a ute with the rubbish that our fellow Australians have discarded.

Sue wanted to paint but of course the showers put a damper on the idea of setting up the table un der a shady tree. So we rolled Gertie out of the trailer and Sue set up in her mobile studio. It worked like a treat and she got a lot of work done without interruption from the rain drops.

Mal cooked a damper for lunch and worked on a couple of watercolours.

The afternoon sunlight raked across the hill to the North, scultpting the tall gums into a glorious picture. The air was still and the rock wall that dives into the water opposite the camp was beautifully replicated in the surface of the still water.

A Rufous Whistler sat on a branch by the water side and sang a soft lullaby which heralded a retreat to Vicki's warm bed.

3rd December Thursday

The clouds were back to threaten us of more rain which did not eventuate. The morning was looking good, Sue was in her studio finishing off her painting and Mal was preparing another damper when two cars rolled bristling with trail bikes, hanging off every available point.

We all afternoon the trail bikes roared and buzzed around. Just kids having fun however it certainly changed the atmosphere of the place. We had already scheduled to depart on Friday morning, so we endured.

The night came and everything quietened down and we fell into an uneasy slumber.

4th December Friday

Mal looks out the window, another trailer with four colourful insects strapped down ready to buzz us. We packed up but the noise had started even before we scampered off further into the mountains.

The small forestry road leads up into hills past 10,001 tree ferns and tall gums and pines. We left the buzzing trail bikes behind and for the next hour and a half we dodged the odd pot hole and pairs of crimson rosellas as they rose up and flashed up across in front of our windscreen leaving barely enough time for their ultramarine tail feathers.

Eventually we rolled out onto rolling hills with manicured tree lines, a patchwork of pasture and tilled fields. We did not see the horse drawn hay wains but we were sure they were there fording a quiet stream where the cattle stood tranquilly knee deep as Constable's ghost painted the scene from beneath a shady oak tree.

We roamed across the hills and dales gradually heading West and North. Finally we came to a small town where we used the car wash to prepare Vicki and team for the quarantine inspection prior to departure to Tasselmania.

We avoided most of the Friday traffic and lobbed into the Pakenham Caravan Park about an hour East of Melbone Town. It was 10 degrees hotter, it was dry and parched, but the staff were friendly and we have booked in for two nights. It feels like we are at the bottom of the gangway, about to enter onto the ferry.