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Half Way
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Checked out of the 3 Sisters Motel. It was a good stay and 3-4 days is probably about right for the Blue Mountains, giving enough time for a variety of walks. We go in search of Euphoria (hair salon recommended for Janice) but unfortunately it is booked up. Euphoria turns to disappointment. J won't consider the other suggestion, I think because it is called "The Shed".
One last side trip to admire the view from Sublime Point. We calculate that we are now half way through our travels although for those of you reading this, it may seem much longer. We have a meandering drive stopping at Richmond which has a picturesque cricket ground but no other visible attractions. J assesses the population's hair and decides not to search for a stylist in town. On to Windsor, another historic old Hawkesbury River town which also has some attractive bits, but only if you look hard. Trollope had been there on a river trip and seemed to approve of it then. We eat fish and chips at a restaurant where they have salt, pepper and insect repellant on the table. Nice.
We ask the attendant in the town museum for directions to our next stop, Wiseman's Ferry, about 25 km away. He struggles to recommend the right road out of town and there then follows several minutes of comedy as he becomes increasingly indecisive while I keep a poker face. Janice has to excuse herself. We pick up a free map and thankfully escape. We cross the river on the eponymous Wiseman's ferry and for the next 20km, the road is gravel. At St Albans, we had booked into the Settlers Arms for 2 nights. It was outwardly attractive but the room was in a hot and grubby wooden annexe, so we cut our stay by one night. The food is great but the village is having a fly convention. As soon as we go outside, we are engulfed by a cloud of flies reminiscent of Pig Pen in the Peanuts cartoons. Australia has a lot of flies but this place has noticeably more than any of our other stops.
2 locals emerge from the bar as we sit having our dinner. One bloke says to his mate "This isn't a beer belly, it is the engine of a sex machine" [Think middle aged, beer belly, vest top, short shorts and boots]. They then get into their 4x4 and drive off still clutching their glasses of beer. Needless to say, J hasn't enquired about hair salons here either. More thumbnails ...
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