Australia day 17

13 July

We woke up in Wagga Wagga this morning. Let's pause here and contemplate that for a moment. Wagga Wagga … who in their wildest dreams would plan a trip to Australia and include a night in Wagga Wagga in their itinerary? Who, for that matter would boast that they hale from Wagga Wagga? They don't even refer to it as Wagga Wagga here when they speak of the place; they only say "Wagga." And this night in Wagga Wagga followed shortly after a night in Coober Pedy. Coober Pedy and Wagga Wagga … Aaron, you sure know how to pick 'em.

We never actually saw Wagga Wagga. We entered during last night's darkness, drove past fast food establishments and sizable shopping areas and an airport, and we were stopped at several large intersections with traffic lights before we came to our caravan park on the far edge of town. We left this morning with a low sun and missed seeing Wagga Wagga open and bustling by day. Sorry to say, we didn't give Wagga Wagga a fair shake.

We headed for the Snowy Mountains instead. To see snow on the ground in July has been another of my bucket list items. Perhaps to see snow actually falling would be a bonus, but it would be enough to see it on the ground. Yes, I have seen snowy mountain peaks in the summer in the Rocky Mountains of the US, but that's not the same thing.

We stopped at Tumut to stretch our legs. There was a lumber processing plant there and the sweet fragrance of freshly stripped eucalyptus logs filled our nostrils. I love the smell of lumber. My father ran the wood shop at the Jewish Community Center when I was a boy. This is one of those pleasant-memory-inducing smells I find myself inhaling deeply to savor.

A sign at the exit from Tumut proclaimed that vehicles without snow chains should not proceed from here. It looked to me like a sign that was posted at the beginning of winter and taken down at its end, not a moment-by-moment assessment of conditions up above, so I proceeded up the Snowy Mountain Highway without chains.

As we climbed higher and higher the mountains became more breathtaking, but eventually we entered low cloud cover and the scenic overlooks looked over no scenery at all. A light rain fell and I realized it was probably snowflakes that had melted by the time they reached us.

And then my wish was fulfilled! We saw small patches of snow along the roadside. All right! Snow in July!

I made a snowball and playfully threw it into the caravan at Razelle, startling her and causing her to remark, "Grow up!"

Farther along, we came to a turnoff to some caves. By this sign, someone had gathered enough snow to build a snowman. Razelle took a picture of me posing with this sentry of snowdom.

I had trouble getting back onto the pavement from the shoulder of the road here because my tires spun in first gear. I had to use reverse to slide downhill, aided by gravity for a few meters, to get enough traction to return to the pavement. Hmmm, so much for my idea of radial tires being adequate for snow. That was a heart-stopping moment for Razelle and for me.

We climbed even higher and the ground all around us was entirely blanketed in white … a true winter scene. Then we had whiteout conditions where the thick fog and the boundless white and the treeless terrain above the timberline at the Continental Divide of Australia left me nothing to see except the pavement I needed to stay on – or else …

We were the only recreational vehicle on this mountain. All the other vehicles we saw were SUVs and family-sized cars filled with families coming to experience winter sports. We came to a pull out bay where snow chains were to be put on. We had none and by now I hoped that wouldn't be an issue.

We rounded a corner by a Swiss-chalet-style building and lots of cars were parked there with kids and sleds and some with skis. I hoped this was the top and we would finally begin descending from this Alpine scene. My bucket list wish had been fulfilled far below. This was just excess; over the top, shall we say. I didn't even dare stop long enough to take out a camera to document this wintery wonderland. I kept reassuring Razelle that we would make it through, but if we did have to turn back, the way we'd come would surely be passable, so we had nothing to worry about. (I hoped she believed me.)

We started descending now and came to another sign indicating a pull out bay for removing snow chains … a very good sign, I assumed. Then it began to snow. I mean real snowflakes. Be careful what you wish for, eh? They didn't stick, but we couldn't know that farther down they had. A car coming toward us through this snowfall couldn't know, either, what this snow portended above. I saw the frightened expression on the face of the woman driving that car with a death grip on her steering wheel and worried about what she must have driven through to reach me.

The snowfall didn't last long, we descended below the mountaintop-hugging cloud that was producing it and a fine rain replaced it as wide alpine vistas came into view. For the first time in three days the sun came out and a rainbow welcomed us in the distance. Sighs of relief issued from both of us simultaneously. I could finally admit how tense I'd been all along. I pulled off the road to regained my composure.

The remainder of the ride into Cooma was very picturesque; mountain meadows, pastures with brown cattle now instead of black, forested glades of eucalyptuses and a winding country road threading its way through all of this. We'd survived "Aaron's folly." We pulled into Cooma tired from the tension of driving across the "snowfields," as they are labeled on our maps. Now I understand what the map meant.

Cooma is a lovely resort town, like one of those in Colorado near a winter sports area. I entered the town's Information Centre while Razelle went into the restaurant next door. The helpful woman inside circled the locations of five caravan parks in Canberra for me on a map of the ACT (Australian Capital Territory). I jointed Razelle for lunch, and after a stop at a "pharmacy" (not the chemists, as they call them here; the sign actually said "pharmacy") we drove on to Canberra.

We reached our chosen caravan park before dark, but we stayed put for the rest of the evening and night. It was a long, trying day and I didn't have the stamina to explore Canberra any further until the following day.



Instead, we used this time constructively -- cooking, reading, writing blog entries -- and documenting with the camera what life snugly snuggled (or jumbled together) inside our humble abode was like.