peteg's blog

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Got up at 8am after a pretty good sleep; the Therm-a-rest made all the difference. This was after being woken up at 6am by Carl heading off to work, and the dawn chorus. The shower turned out to be bearable. Breakfast was the same-old. I left the hammock up as I had in mind to stay a few days.

Around 9am I headed off to Nimbin in a dutiful sort of way along 15km of windy narrow road. It got a bit horrorshow at some points — quite a few blind corners, no posted speed limit, concealed driveways and so forth. Fortunately I didn't encounter anyone really in a hurry. Had a coffee at Dutch & Co. Their wifi works fine. Dave told me that about 50 people have been arrested for dealing in Nimbin recently, which might explain why I only got hit up twice on my brief wander around the town. It seemed about the same as when I was last there about fourteen years ago. Later Hugh set me straight: the museum burnt down a few years back, taking with it just two other shops, which was unexpected as the whole main drag are wooden buildings. The hemp advocacy seems more anachronistic than ever. I ran into Carl, and on his suggestion had lunch at the the bakery opposite (presently for sale), then back to Dutch & Co. for another coffee.

Downstream from Whian Whian Falls.

I headed back to the campground to collect my swimming gear, aiming for Whian Whian Falls near Dunoon. Along the way I saw Carl just as he described the day before: sitting on the side of the road with the digger unloaded, waiting for the blokes who make the big bucks to decide what to do. The falls are on Rocky Creek, which runs south of The Channon; Terania Creek runs to the north. It's a beautiful spot. Several kids in several groups came and went while I was there. Pleasant in, and seemingly clean. It has a no-dogs policy that works just like the one at Gordons Bay.

Around 4pm I headed up to Rocky Creek Dam for a walk along their "Cedar" route, which includes the spillway. The regeneration of the rainforest is pretty amazing. Afterwards I had dinner again at The Channon Tavern: a not-great fisherman’s basket, which I now know means fried battered seafood. After a day of slow riding on the narrow winding roads, I crashed early at The Channon Village Campground again, and tried to read some more Peter Carey.