The main purpose of our latest jaunt was to show our friends one of our favourite places, Willandra National Park. Dogs are not allowed in national parks so we left Parkes at the crack of dawn in order to deliver Monty to the kennels in Yoogali, just outside Griffith, before it closed at 11am.
We drove past mile after mile of cotton fields with hundreds of bales of cotton lined up ready for collection. Farmers are not too pleased about the introduction of cotton farming into Australia as it requires a massive amount of water, a commodity that is very precious in these remote areas. Huge cotton producing corporations take so much from the rivers that farms and vineyards further along the river are being starved of the water they have depended on for years.
As we traveled further west the properties became progressively bigger and further apart until all that could be seen from the road was a postbox and driveway every so often leading to a station (very large farm) that was completely out of sight. 
Once Monty had been dragged protesting into the kennels we headed for Hillston where we had arranged to rendezvous with Tim and Virginia before hitting the dirt road into Willandra.

 On the way we passed a sign for Murriwagga - home of the Black Stump, well we couldn't resist that could we? There are plenty of things that are supposed to indicate where the outback begins and the Black Stump is one of them so we stopped for a closer look. The Black Stump Hotel stood in the centre of the tiny town and there was a little trail of information boards to enjoy. I had assumed the Black Stump was a burnt tree trunk or something but, upon studying one of the boards I discovered it was a woman who had burned to death while cooking on a camp fire! Apparently when describing the event, her husband said he returned to camp to find his wife was nothing but a black stump! 

 Onto Hillston which is a very small town but, because there are no other towns for miles around, it services a large number of the stations in the vicinity so has a branch of each of the main banks on its tiny little high street. It looks quite odd really because we are so used to seeing towns without banks as society relies more and more on internet banking but the internet is a bit of an issue on many of the properties so being able to visit a bank is essential I suppose even if it does take hours to get there. 
It took an hour or so to reach the outskirts of Willandra along the unmade, red dirt road, then a further half an hour to reach our accommodation.

 Driving on unmade roads was alarming at first, especially towing a caravan, but it was surprising how quickly we got used to it. There were signs warning drivers not to use the roads in wet conditions, the penalty for doing so was to pay for the repairs to the road after. The residents in these kind of areas live with the prospect of being cut off for long periods of time, in fact, we had been planning this trip for a while but the national park had been closed for months because of rain.
Eventually we reached the buildings on the property. The main building is a glorious homestead complete with schoolhouse which is set on a billabong alive with spoonbills, cormorants and many other birds and fish. The homestead was derelict when Ian first came here but was restored in the late 1990s. There is also a huge shearing shed, rams' shed, shearers accommodation, ranger's cottage and the cottage we were staying in. 

 The cottage was basic but comfortable and we even had our own pet frog in the outside loo. We could have done without the Mouse Spider but Willandra itself was as wonderful as I remembered. It was amazing to look out from the veranda over the flat landscape and know that everything you could see to the horizon and beyond belonged to that one property.

It was a very famous sheep station in its heyday and was called Big Willandra, specialising in raising huge rams that were much sought after by other sheep breeders, the descendents of those rams are still around today.  Back in the 1920s and 30s bullock trains were used to transport the fleece to be sold after shearing and it took three days for them just to reach the edge of the station. At night the stars are so clear and bright they seem to form a canopy overhead and it is just marvelous to feel the relaxation of being there with no TV, phones, internet etc. 

Ian and I love to get up just as it is getting light and drive around the motor trail to see the kangaroos and emus. The real prize is to see the big red kangaroos and they only seem to show themselves very early. 
We had a glorious few days of walks, wildlife spotting, barbecues and pretending to be the owners of the homestead and even found our entry in the visitors' book from 2005! 

 We left behind the delights of the Trundle Abba Festival preparations and carried on our journey toward Parkes. The road we were following was called The Bogan Way and stretched from Albert to Bogan Gate. For my English readers, bogan is a derogatory term used in Australia for a person who, shall we say does not aspire to finishing their education or having any kind of career and lives in a messy house lowering the tone of the neighbourhood, you get the picture. Bogan Gate itself is a lovely little town but we found a house in the middle with a front yard full of junk and surmised that must be where the bogan lives! 

As we rolled into Parkes the rain started to pour down, it was freezing too and the owner of the campsite boasted that the temperature was set to drop to 4 degrees overnight, we haven't experienced cold like this since we moved to Australia so had to head into town to buy fleeces. Suitably rugged up we set off to explore. Australian towns are very good at providing information centres and we have got into the habit of going there first so we don't miss anything. We had come to Parkes to see the famous radio telescope but discovered at the information centre that it is an Elvis town! Needless to say Parkes hosts an Elvis Festival but there was Elvis memorabilia everywhere. Just when I thought it couldn't get any better I discovered that this part of NSW has a trail of decorated rhinos, a bit like the elephant trail in London a few years ago and, you've guessed it, Parkes has an Elvis rhino! 

It was still lashing down with rain when we went to bed but the sun was out the following morning although it was very chilly again because Parkes is pretty high up. We set off to check out the radio telescope which was a delight. The telescope features in the film The Dish and was made famous because of its role in the Apollo missions. The Parkes telescope was the one communicating with the Apollo 11 moon landing at the moment when Neil Armstrong stepped on to the surface of the moon. The visitor centre was excellent and free to enter, there was a $6 fee to see three films about space exploration and telescopes which was well worth it. Then there were plenty of interactive displays and lots of information suitable for those of us who do not have a physics A level.

 The dish itself was sensational, so massive it was hard to imagine how it could turn if there was any wind about. We gazed at it for some time then bought a coffee and gazed at it some more, I cannot recommend this visit highly enough. 

 Apologies for the lack of blogging but we have just returned from a three week, 2700km trip. The original idea was to meet our friends Tim and Virginia in Parkes then go on to one of our favourite spots, Willandra National Park with them for a few days. It suddenly dawned on us that we could make a much longer trip of it (we haven't really got our heads around this retirement lark) as we would be driving a long way so we may as well see some more places while we were out that far.
We left in glorious sunshine on 24th April and headed off along the Golden Highway through the mining areas in the Hunter Valley. It's a dangerous road this as it passes between army firing ranges flying red flags warning not to enter - possibility of death, then as soon as that danger was passed signs appeared on the roadside advising when the next mine blasting was to take place.
We breathed sighs of relief as we got through unscathed and took in the scenery. Beautiful, green countryside with rolling hills but every few kilometres a huge open cut mine created a blot on the otherwise perfect landscape. The view soon changed to manicured, emerald green horse pastures as we passed some of the best known racehorse training stables and studs in the country.
It was time to look for our first coffee stop and Denman fitted the bill perfectly, it is a smart town with plenty of cafes in amongst the hunting supplies and cattle food shops. Coffee over we drove off refreshed through a massive area of blackened trees and fields, it went on for about 45 minutes and we found out later it was caused by a huge bushfire in February that destroyed 17 properties which is a lot because the farms out here are huge so the houses are a very long way apart. 

Next town was Dunedoo. In stark contrast to Denman, Dunedoo looks like a town barely hanging on by its fingernails, it is boosted a little because people visit there because of the name but it really looked to be struggling. By now we were driving alongside a railway line dotted with grain silos every few kilometres and we spotted an occasional, very slow grain train.
We were heading for Ballimore which turned out to be a tiny, friendly little place where we could park the caravan free overnight opposite the pub in return for buying a drink. The locals were very keen to make us welcome and were happy to help when we asked where the nearest Anzac Day service would be the following morning. An elderly man gave us some very country directions to nearby Gollan, which nobody but a resident could possibly have followed so another chap said he would be passing on his way there in the morning and we could follow him.

 Anzac Day is a big deal here and almost everyone attends a dawn service, we were in luck though, the service we were being taken to was at 11am. Our guide turned up as promised and we followed him to a field in the middle of nowhere with a war memorial and a little community hall which had not changed much since Mabel and Garry were there in the old photo hanging up inside. The hall was buzzing with ladies laying out trays of cakes and giving out cups of tea, they would not accept a donation but insisted we tuck in. The service itself was attended by about 80 people from the surrounding farms (there was not even a village here) and we were invited to join them after for a barbecue! 
Tempting as the offer was we decided we ought to press on through Narromine and Dubbo to Albert and the Rabbit Trap Pub - we had been looking forward to this. It was a bit grim actually and the pub was the only thing there but we couldn't go past this stop.

 We got out pretty sharpish in the morning and pushed on to Trundle which was great on a number of levels. First it had the widest street I have ever seen and the hotel boasted the longest wooden balcony in New South Wales but, best of all they were gearing up for their annual Abba festival.

 It was incredible, the festival happens every year and goes on for several days featuring Bjorn Again, The Kransky Sisters and many more. While we were chortling at the Abba shop window displays we discovered that last year the festival brought half a million dollars to the town! It was a fantastic example of what a resourceful council can do to support the small businesses that might otherwise find it tough in a country town.