In the 24 hours to 10 o’clock this morning, 5 inches of rain fell – very heavily – on my mountain. I received a call from my daughter to say that she’d heard that the creek was nearly up to the bridge down on the tar road and I’d better hurry if I wanted to get out. Well, I did, but tomorrow had been the plan.
However, I didn’t want to be stuck for days, so I threw a few essentials together – toothbrush, computer, Drizabone, camera – stepped into my ever-ready gum boots and raced off. The creek on my usual route would definitely be up, so I drove the long way, 25 kms extra, through the National Park.
Half way round I met a local coming the other way. ‘It’s three feet over’, he said, looking down at me from the height of his big Toyota, ‘No way I’d risk it.’
Well, no way my little Suzuki and I would either. We turned around and slid back home.
Of course the rain stopped soon after, and I learnt the creek had subsided to drivable level. I’ll try again in the morning.
Meanwhile the clouds were lifting, the mist rising, water droplets sparkling on trees in thin sunlight, and the little dam muddily overflowing for the first time in ages.
What looked like three young Eastern Grey kangaroos wandered on to the dam wall, but their fur was so wet and dark that for once I wasn’t sure – the ears seemed a bit too round.
The fur wasn’t long enough for wallaroos, and anyway I don’t think my little group of them has three males in it. Might they be male Eastern red-necked wallabies? I asked for I.D., but they nicked off.
Definitely young louts of one sort or another– and probably up to no good.