Tag Archives: bairnsdale

gippsland droogs

Bairnsdale is a small town. I didn’t mind it much, though it has its oddities. I suppose places without droogs on the prowl have Milk Bars, but I really liked how one of Bairnsdale’s (I saw two) had a sign twice as big as the name of the place saying “We Sell Milk.” Just so you didn’t think there was anything tricksy about the name.

After our first session one of the librarians took me out for a little drive down to Paynesville. That is not a cacophemism, but a retirement village for yachters.

I didn’t realize how close we are to the ocean here, but Gippsland has a bunch of lakes that are just barely separated from the ocean (I suppose it’s technically a strait of some kind between Victoria and Tasmania maybe – I don’t have a map accessible while I’m offline typing this) by a forested sandbar. The librarian said they used to be freshwater but when an opening was created to the sea it turned everything a bit more brackish throughout the floodplain.

In Paynesville they’ve dug out canals through the poshest residential areas so that everyone can have backyard access to their boats. It was nicer than I expected, thinking of Dexter episodes (that takes place in some grubby part of Florida with those kinds of things right?).

We drove back into Bairnsdale as the sun was setting and the sky was just huge. I do kind of feel a bit of prairie nostalgia when I see a big sunset like that. Though the gum trees made different enough silhouettes to keep it foreign.

One of the librarians has a thirty-year-old nephew who’s going to Estonia on his first trip out of Australia next month. I think Estonia is an awesome first foreign country to visit. Way better than for him to just go to Canada or something boring and safe. She says her nephew’s bringing too much luggage. This came about because today I brought my bag to the library with me so I could go straight to the train station after we finished up our session.

I realized the other day that by the time we leave Australia I’ll have lived in Sydney longer than in Vancouver (and Holly’s going to live in three foreign-to-her countries between this June and next). I’d thought before coming here that I’d identify Vancouver as home when asked, but I tend to tell people I live in Vancouver and am from a place they haven’t heard of. I don’t have a depth of knowledge about Vancouver to pass on to curious people. And while my Winnipeg knowledge isn’t particularly deep it’s still an easier place to tell stories of and make it sound exotic.

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bairnsdale the first

I maintain my love of sleeper trains, but even the Melbourne-Bairnsdale bus today was pretty good. What the busride had over the trainride was its daylight hours, so I could actually expect the Australia rolling past me.

I keep having to remind myself that it’s winter here, since everything is so green. Rural Victoria (at least in the Gippsland direction) looks like a lot of dairy and sheep farms. It’s kind of hilly (in a way more bulbous than rolling) and off in the distance are mountainish looking things.

There was a weird stretch where there were these erratic dead, branchless tress studding the fields like bones in compound fractures. It was kind of ominous, but fairly localized.

I like how the trees are different from North American trees. You see a clump of trees in a field and that’s fine and then when you pass close by it’s like no northern tree you’d care to think of, all made of ropes entwined on itself. When I was out walking I thought about how knowing more about plants would probably get me amazed at the differences in the ground cover and grasses and all that too. But trees are big enough to be noticeable.

Bairnsdale is a small town and my motel is about a mile from the train station and town square. This is because of a mixup in the recommendation process wherein someone thought a restaurant was a hotel (well, it is called a hotel but that doesn’t seem to mean anything about lodging here) and quoted us the price of the motel with the one-letter-off name. When we couldn’t book a room at the restaurant we assumed the recommender had mistyped the name, rather than that she was recommending I sleep in a restaurant.

It’s not a bad little town. I had all of Sunday afternoon to wander around. There’s a village and a really tall-spired church and not much is open past 2pm on a Sunday afternoon.

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