Hoped to be up around dawn, have a cuppa, fill my thermos cup with hot water, and be off by 7am.
But had a late-ish night after 11, then had some reflection time (the last blog put down before this one (under this one) called "Meditation output.." is what appeared in that time) from 3am- 4:30am, so decided to sleep later, if i could. I couldn't, but it took a while sorting for things, and when i came to fill up my lovely red thermos mug (a gift from Tracey & her man in Lalalty), I can't find it anywhere. I had boiled the billy yesterday morning and used it, and drunk from it the previous day, still hot from being filled on the morning of that day.
You might have to imagine a bit of an Celtic, country, soulish, rappish lilt to the voice:
For alas I must (write, before I) sing the dirge of the cup..
It's 8:24am when i finally leave the Railway Hotel
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I walk t hrough the town, and it's goodbye to Lockhart, with its wide streets. Looking back:
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Walking on, and back to the dirge… i finish writing at the crossing with Hollies Rd. Ready to sing. Recording at the bottom of the blog post: the dirge of the cup..
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Stopped near 10:50, at a roadside stop complete with bin
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where i could empty my pockets of wrappers. Thank you folk who put these here.
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and a notice board on roadsides. We are so myopic in our care of this Earth. We have made our main wildlife preservation areas (& they say "sometimes the only ones") the space around roads where we have metal vehicles tracelling at ~100km/hr, putting at danger the fawna, and the custodians (the people).
Put out the tent base to dry, and had a lay down on it. Off again, around 11:30am
Saw some sheep, who happened to be walking along beside me, but igoring me, though I'm sure they were aware of me. Wrote and thought about .. Sheepishly looking around.
Stopped for lunch at the Wagga Wagga Shire "welcome" sign, as I left Lockhart Shire.
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Put my feet up, and dried out the tent fly from yesterday morning.
Then headed off again to talk with my lady on the phone & to try to make it just past the half way mark.
Get a look at this straw bed on an old bitumen road:
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Hoping to put the tent up, just past the trolley, so the pegs can still go into the ground.
Hope to make it to Collingullie tomorrow, where I'm booked for the night.
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