Chapter 18: Grafton to Moree

After dinner I called Patrick and spoke to Rachel about invading her parents. With her encouragement, I called Chaz in Canberra. He was quite enthusiastic about a visit and wanted to know when I’d arrive.

“It’s Monday. I won’t leave before Wednesday. I thought I’d cross the Dividing Range, look at the MacIntyre in Inverell and stop in Moree. Then through Narrabin to Dubbo and from there to Canberra. But I want to stop in Cowra. I was there when I was a grad student, but the woman I was with didn’t know much history and I’m still interested in the garden and museum. So the earliest would be late on Friday.”

“That’ll have to do. Call on Thursday so we can finalize things.”

“Finalize! You’ve been corrupted by the bureaucrats in our nation’s capitol.”

“I’m one of those bureaucrats, Mister Director.”

“Talk to you in a few days. Kiss Michiko for me.”

“You can kiss her yourself when you see her.”

“Right. I’ll call in a few days.”

I told Evans and Willy that I thought I had imposed sufficiently and that I’d be leaving on Wednesday morning.

“What’s your plan for tomorrow?” Willy asked.

“I need to do a load of laundry, if you’ll let me; I need to fill the Rover with diesel and check the oil and coolant; and I’d like to see the trees.”

“The jacarandas?”

“Yes.”

“OK,” said Evens. “But I’m not parking under them. They get corrosive crap all over the car.”

“Can we just drive by?”

“Sure.”

“Can we take you for a final dinner out? Remember, you paid for all of us on Sunday.”

“Very sneaky, Willy. Of course.”

“Do you eat Italian?”

“Only if they’re tender. Though I suppose a ragout, as Swift suggests for the Irish, would be OK.”

“Har-har.”

“Will you phone Rosearia’s?” Evans asked.

“In the morning, dear. Actually, not until eleven or so.”

“If Gordy does a load and then starts the dryer and we take the Range Rover to be serviced, that’ll be good timing. Do you prefer Puma or Caltex? Those are the nearest. There’s a BP and a Coles a bit further.”

“I’m not devout.”

“Some folks are. Want a drink?”

“No, thanks. The sun and the salt air and the food are enough. I’ll wash up and go to bed.”

Tuesday went as planned. I “did” my clothes; then Evans and I drove the Range Rover to the Caltex and filled the tank and the cans. The oil and coolant seemed fine. Evans kicked the tyres knowingly.

We all drove to Li Garden for a good, not spectacular Chinese lunch and then across the bridge to cruise various streets downtown. The trees were, indeed, lovely, but the purple was quite overwhelming. We stopped at the Prince Street Coffee House and were back in South Grafton before 16:00. Willy had made a booking for 18:30.

Dinner was excellent. I promised that if Evans could entice Willy to fly down, I’d personally fetch them from either Sydney or Camden. I was up, breakfasted, kissed, hugged and hand shaken by ten.

I drove westward on the Gwydir Highway. It was named after a river and the river was named for some Welsh lord who took his name from a castle in North Wales. At first the road was just south of the Clarence and I had a glimpse of Susan Island. But the river looped away from me and I soon was getting further and further from it as the road climbed from Waterview Heights (18 m) to Jackadgery (107 m), past Calgai (87 m) over the Gibraltar Range (highest point 1170 m), down to Bald Nob (357 m), and up to Glen Innes (1062 m). It was just on noon, so I stopped at “Annie’s Fish & Chips” for lunch. The servings were large and the chips crisp. I got back on the road without looking at the standing stones.

The highway descended 500 metres in the next 60 or 70 kilometres and I was back down to 500 m in Inverell. I slowed down to look at the Macintyre River, flowing north-northwest. It was interesting. The Maranoa, near where I was born in Queensland, flowed south-east to St. George, where it merged into the Balonne, falling from 574 m to 207 m. And it’s part of the Murray-Darling. When I was a student, none of this was taught. I was already working in Brisbane when Fluvial Geomorphology was published.