As the excruciatingly poor but irresistible pun in the title suggests, once we had arrived in Seymour and settled in, we decided to stay here for a couple of days.
With our early departure out of Junee, which gave us a couple of extra travelling days, we had initially planned to scoot south and then further west and spend some time in Hamilton.
However, with the advent of the cool change which brought our caravanning life back to bearable (apart from having to nurse our struggling fridge), a good site in a reasonable park, and the prospect of spending some time not only around the town, but visiting the extraordinary Vietnam Memorial Wall but a short walk distant, our proposed overnight stay in Seymour morphed into three.
But before I bring you this phase of our New Year adventure, I must return briefly to Junee and our visit to the famed town Licorice Factory, something we did not do during our last stay, to the the utter surprise of many fellow travellers. This oversight (as was loudly proclaimed by all and sundry except us!) was about to be remedied as we joined a number of our collective for brunch at this very well known establishment.
Although this local landmark was but a short stroll from out park, the continuing utterly enervating heat made the decision to drive a 'no-brainer'. It was nudging 40 degrees by mid morning!
We followed the sign past the imposing bulk of the building which houses the factory
down the leafy driveway
to one of the several parking lots at the rear of the premises.
From here it was a short trot through a delightfully (but still hot) shaded outdoor eating area
and into the entry pathway, where yours truly came to a sudden halt.
My penchant for pigs was well satisfied here....the Licorice Factory had scored its first goal....but it was to be its last.
We strolled on past yet another al fresco dining area before entering the premises proper.
Here, as I had expected to find, was the factory shop, with its wide range of both licorice and chocolate goodies, none of which we had any intention of buying....we were already well served in this department in our van lockers. And I should add, at the prices being charged here (read tourist rip-off), a pack of Woolies' licorice allsorts and some chocolate bullets seemed a very reasonable alternative!
Guided tours are conducted for those who want to learn all about the manufacturing process, but after our very hectic New Year's night dinner at the Services Club, and far too many hours spent chatting and drinking back at the park in the cool of midnight and beyond, I was in no mood for intellectual endeavours (or anything much at all really).
All I was after was a seat at one of the many interior tables in what really is an incredible building
where the coffee counter was doing a roaring trade catering to the demands of the visiting crowds (of whom there were far more than I had anticipated given the weather). Hot coffee held little appeal, but a good hearty brunch was most certainly in order.
So, dear readers, we repaired to the room next door where the menu was displayed and a charming young lass stood ready to take our orders. Hmmmmm, an egg and bacon roll on toasted Turkish bread with a hash brown and a variety of optional sauces seemed just the ticket. The advertised $9.50 charge seemed reasonable, but as Liz proffered payment, the cost of my revival snack rose instantly to $10.50.
And this is where the Junee Licorice Factory lost me for ever.....when I questioned the extra dollar, the clearly embarrassed serving lass explained that was the cost of the tomato sauce I had ordered (notwithstanding the fact I could have had BBQ sauce or relish included for nothing!) I was dumbfounded.
My face must have said it all, because the girl behind the counter went on to explain that my reaction was common and she apologised profusely for what was clearly a complete and, most annoyingly from my perspective, unadvertised gouge. I think it is fair to say that had my rather dull head been clearer and I had not been in quite so much need for some 'blotting paper', the roll would have remained where it was behind the counter and I would have been off to find the manager in a state of high dudgeon.
As it was neither eventuated, and I thoroughly enjoyed my inflated snack, but I did so with the resolve to broadcast this nonsense far and wide and to never return, despite the fact that in addition to the lovely eateries this most unusual place also sports a variety store on the upper floor where the range of goods on offer is nothing short of amazing.
So, with that off my indignant chest, let's return to Seymour where, after one false run in the continuing heat, our trusty electronic navigator brought us to Emily Street where we had our first sight of our new destination.
On pure spec we had chosen the Seymour Highlands Caravan Park over its rival, primarily because of its proximity to the town centre and the Memorial, but I have to confess that at first glance it did seem somewhat overly rustic to say the least.
This impression did not fade as we pulled into the driveway
opposite the camp kitchen.
With the white gravel of the site surfaces glaring at us in the stifling heat, I was all but for turning around and seeking respite elsewhere at the alternative park near the Golburn River (we checked it out later and were glad we had not), but I have learnt from experience that my judgement can be far from reasonable or objective when I arrive hot and tired, and today I was more than both of these after not really having had a proper sleep for over a week.
Mine host, who was decidedly 'rustic' himself, but more than obliging, directed us to a nearby reasonably sized drive-thu site where a large tree was doing its best to provide some shade.
Although our new patch was quite narrow, it was flat and even and sufficiently long enough to comfortably accommodate our rig and the Cruiser. With our set up being minimalist (electrical cords, hoses and awning only) we were soon organised, and once the cool change arrived (I've already bragged about this!) we were quite happy with our choice.
I must admit, though, for the first time in ages, once I had done all that was required to make ourselves at home, I trotted....no, staggered....off to the nearby Royal Hotel for a couple of large, icy beers in the air conditioned comfort of the front bar. And here my luck changed for the better....I had stumbled in on happy hour and returned refreshed for but a modest cost.
This was an odd little park, but everything seemed to work.
The white gravel was far less intimidating in the cooler weather and the red brick building which housed adequate showers and the other necessities, was a mere thirty metres from our site.
And despite all else, someone here has, or had, a sense of humour, not that I am necessarily endorsing the sentiment expressed!
Apart from those clustered around the amenities block, there were quite a few other cabins lined up in various areas.
Sites at the rear of the park held some permanents and other visitors like us,
where the rustic theme was maintained.
Some sites were clearly more shaded than others, and in the course of my ramble around I did make note of that we would ask for if we ever returned in stinking hot weather (highly unlikely that this is). With a decent mat down in the annex area to cover the dirt, site 43 came up tops for overhead sun protection.
The real feature of this park was its pool. It was unusually large, and came complete with a grassy shaded area near the gate.
It looked equally appealing from the street, but sadly a closer inspection showed that the water quality was somewhat suspect and far from sparklingly clean.
We did not bother to bathe....we had far too much else to do, including spending much of the following morning just lolling about recuperating. But then it was time to get out and about. We were determined to make the most of our unexpected time here, and apart from just 'getting the hang' of the town, there was much to see....much of it within walking distance.
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