Tiny train adventures: Kyneton

November 28, 2018 No Comments

We escape to the country and feel whole again. No screens, no work, no worries.

It was probably brought on by someone’s casual comment that planted a bitter seed in my heart. Its roots growing silently until one hot spring night I awoke to their unbearable pressure. Working mum’s guilt is no new thing, a heady cocktail of baby FOMO and that first day jitters, a schoolgirl throw back that I wish I could shake. I could almost hear the boom of that second-hand ticking down to my return to work next year.

It seems that cabin fever might be taking hold. I needed to get out. I needed to escape the city because when I do time slows, my breaths deepen and my thoughts of the future retract from years and months to minutes. It’s quieter on both sides of my ears.

A while ago, Dylan mentioned Alastair Humphrey’s Microadventures as a refreshing way to get your nature fix in the middle of the work week. Trips so cheap and easy you could take a bag to work and head out into the wilderness for 10 blissful hours. You’d return the next day revitalised, the other cogs oblivious of your micro adventure. A work shower would probably aid the subterfuge.

Inspired by this and Tiny Canal Cottage’s Tiny Adventures with a toddler we decided to take a day trip. Our additional challenge was that we had to go carless and carefree!

That’s why we took our first tiny train adventure to Kyneton, an idyllic country town less 1 hour 45 mins from the inner city on public transport.

Getting there

We took a short metro bus to Footscray station and a cosy V Line train ride on the Echuca Line. Trains might be slower, but they are far more relaxing than car trips. With baby taking turns between pram naps and bouncing on laps, the suburbs turned into paddocks. On the way home we decided as the weather was warm we’d even eschew the bus and walk along the Maribyrnong River. It was such a pleasure and worlds away from the chaos on the roads due to the Spring carnival.

What to do

We timed our visit for the Farmer’s Market which is on every second Saturday of the month. It is nestled in the grounds of one of Kyneton’s many, many beautiful old churches. The vegetarian bao were just as delicious as we remembered and we filled our backpack with some rare and random treats such as vegan halloumi, adorable little tarts and cakes. The flowers were tempting but we thought they might protest on the journey home, as would the handsome rooster.

Stores & ateliers

An atelier is a far more seductive descriptor than a shop. So for those who are not really into the art of mass consumption Rundell & Rundell’s store is a delight for craftsmen and craft fanciers alike. Handmade umbrellas lined with silk float above the walls heavy with hand forged tools. Bespoke Windsor chairs huddle in every corner with all manner of other crafted things.

Piper street is the historical retail strip and hosts other lovely stores. We had a long rifle through The Stockroom which houses an eclectic blend of art gallery and retail.

Eating

We had lunch at Grist Artisan Bakers. It is located in an old 1830s flour mill and we enjoyed vegetarian pasties and milkshakes. We ate in but the milkshakes still came in takeaway cups which was a shame after still feeling raw after watching ABC’s War on Waste. We’ll have to ask if they’ll serve them in cups next time.

Walks & gardens

Then we just wandered through the streets enjoying the trees heavy with blossoms. It was so quiet, even the country chainsaws had taken the afternoon off from their ubiquitous whining.

We eventually found the river and followed it to the Botanic Gardens. It was relaxing and the weather was perfect. There was a new adventure playground in the gardens and Little One had her first swing, her face a mask of serious concentration at the new experience. Perhaps next time she’ll crack a smile for us.

Then lazily killing time until our train ride home, laying on the river bank watching baby ducks swim by. A picnic of cakes in glorious sunshine, planning our next tiny adventure.

Travel

The Yurt Alpine Retreat King Valley

February 4, 2017 2 Comments

Hello dear friends.

I’ve been trying to savour experiences lately and grasp little opportunities for adventure. Going carless (no, not careless autocorrect) at the beginning of last year helped, as our adventures became centred around trains and bikes like when we were overseas. Hiring a GoGet is a really exciting treat, now we appreciate the speed of four wheels. Those 170 life changing days on foreign soil have been hard to shake, ordinary days seemed like pale cardboard cutouts when we were grounded again. Perhaps I’m only truly appreciative of the pleasures of ‘grounded’ now, years later, writing this standing in my full garden bathed in morning sun, with just a hint of the bite 34 degrees will bring.

The Yurt Alpine Retreat

A recent gift of a night in a yurt in the King Valley was a visceral return to my year of travelling. I lay in an exotically draped bed infused with incense, door open on blue skies and a vista dropping onto treed valleys with mountains beyond. It was new Mexico, it was Utah, Arizona, Boulder and Lake Tahoe. Ah wide open spaces how I missed you. A delicious slideshow of experience called up in a moment of expansion.

So, with a clear head, free of the dull buzz of worry and to do lists, I had time and energy to dabble in watercolours again. Although painting a banana was perhaps an incongruous choice, mountain landscapes would be too overwhelming to render. Hooray for the everyday juxtaposed against the divine. That is the essence of the place. An exotic Mongolian yurt alpine retreat adjacent to a tin shed outhouse with a poem, in a style best described as “Aussie bush humour” on the door. Vineyards sparkling in the afternoon light, grown wild and neglected as the farmers aged. Slightly spooky, wandering through the endless rows at dusk stumbling upon nettles and thistles and old bones. What a full body tingling experience! The exotic only 3 hours from home, what a thrill.

Where do you find the spark of adventure close to home?

Travel

Puppy Presence

January 7, 2014 3 Comments

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An Australian Christmas by the beach

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Travel

blue mountains, black earth

December 28, 2013 6 Comments

As we descended the beast of the Blue Mountains growled, calling lighting from slate skies. The fluorescent green of regrowth jarred against charred trunks and the orange of crisp leaves. Despite the devastation, life continued, but there were no birds, no animals, no sound but the roaring of thunder echoing through the valley.

Dry, heat rose from rocks that suddenly became slippery with hot sticky rain. Then, the hail began. It melted instantly in the hot air filling the valley with steaming fog, perhaps we were not welcome.

We clattered down past rainforest tree ferns and damp cliffs and stumbled into intense sunshine, the growling stopped, had we passed the test?

Dylan jumped backward with a yelp. A black shining snake coiled itself lazily by the path. If this was the Blue Mountain beast he was not so scary, but we took a wide detour around the snoozing fellow so as not to offend. Then up, up again to the campsite at the top of the hill where tourists were regaled with stories of the infamous drop bear.