Last night in a foreign bed and sad goodbyes

So this morning we got up just a little slower, a little wearier and with a few less brain cells, well me at least. Each morning we tousle on who wakes first, normally I hear Dad move and then try to fall back asleep and most mornings it is true for me too. 7 hours seems to work for us both and today, our second last, had him thinking about our last opportunity to sample the flavors of yesterday's breakfast. 

Off we went thanking the management and staff (as he ALWAYS does) of the Lodge Hotel, whilst checking out any bargains at their garage sale, and back to the Butcher Shop Cafe for more of those mouth watering buttermilk pancakes. The funny thing was that when we entered the shop the same waitress welcomed us and ushered us politely to a table, and was generally appreciative when Dad said how wonderful she was and how clever it was that she knew our order. When paying the bill the owner of the cafe inquired whether Dad liked the meal as much as yesterday, the whole experience from this small country town was engaging and positive.

lunch outside Wee Waa

We said our goodbyes via phone and text to all of the wonderful family in Mudgee with promises that we won't leave it so long between visits next time, and hit the road for our 6 hour and 17 minutes plus 2 small break journey back towards Queensland and home. Dad decided we should take the Newell highway - which most people avoid like the plague, it is renown for flat roads and trucks, lots of trucks and the type that are driven by sleep deprived, caffeine overdosed, mildly paranoid men hungry for good income. They power these metal monsters across Australia and are supposedly  in control of rigs that sway from side to side as they scream along in convoys of 2 to 3 terrifying other motorists, so that it takes the fortitude of Shackleton to pass the mother f***ers. 
But soldier on we did.... going through townships that I have only read about in books or seen on tele-movies, places with names that make me realize why Australia IS Australia. I felt like an observer at an ANZAC day march watching in quiet awe of places (and those who carved their personalities into them) that produced men and women brave and strong enough to live in our hungry landscape. People and buildings belonging to Gulgong, Dunedoo, Mendooran, Coonabarabran, Narrabri, Moree (where we were going to stop till we saw the social skills of the locals),through Boggabilla and finding the "Jolly Swagman Motel" in Goondiwindi.

The hotel is probably quite typical of a 3 star joint in our Rural regional aka country areas, long and flat with a restaurant that serves enormous portions of protein and lashings of mash at ridiculously high prices. We were happy to bring Dad's aged Heggies Riesling to enjoy with the meal but we could have snapped up a noice glass of Fruity Lexia for the same price. The upside of the dinner beside our time together, was the couple who were also staying at the Jolly Swagman and dined at the same time. I am almost certain that many of you reading this have all had the experience to engage in banter across the dining room with other weary travelers,  ours were driving from Victoria to Gladstone to be present prior to and for the birth of their 6th Grandchild. It is funny how when you are in your own environment you wouldn't even look sideways in a restaurant let along say hi, yet after 30 minutes we knew their life stories and they ours.
As if on cue Dad started yawning again, and not because he was disinterested in the evenings stranger exchange, but simply because he had run out of steam. We excused ourselves, wished the imminent grandmother a happy birthday and took off; Dad will undoubtedly be in slumber and me finishing off this Blog and sipping on the cleansing Baileys with ice and saying "Good Night to you all"!!