Marooned in Katoomba
When we arrived, we were among no more than a half dozen guests, but the desk clerk informed us “a bus” would be arriving that evening, with “another bus” due tomorrow. Today’s bus pulled up shortly, all seats taken by Australian pensioners: median age—78.
They were an active, happy bunch, obviously enjoying their tour. I suspect they derived satisfaction more from companionship than from scenery, given that any views were obscured by sheets of falling water.
We joined them the next morning for what apparently was a high point in their day. The dining room opened for breakfast at 7:30 sharp. At 7:28, every single member of their tour group was lined up in front of the door, ready for the rush to the buffet. Prudently, Laura and I stood well out of the way as practiced, bony hands snatched at poached eggs and fruit cocktail, elbows flailing. These people were pros at the breakfast scramble.
Breakfast was pretty much the same affair as in the States, except for grilled tomatoes and oddly cut bacon. Those and a bread spread called Vegemite. We knew about Vegemite because expat Aussie friends of ours would plead with travelers to bring some back from their trips back to the homeland.
Just what is this comestible so beloved of people who live Down Under?
The package says it consists of barley extract. And preservatives. Yum. The appearance is like macadam; the consistency, axle grease. It tastes like... well... barley.
In college, I brewed beer using sugar, water, and a can of hop flavored malt extract. The beer tasted terrible, but the malt extract tasted just like Vegemite.
It’s an acquired taste, that’s for sure.
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Major cabin fever: we put on foul weather gear and drove to a restaurant for lunch. It occupied what once was the lobby of an old-fashioned, art deco movie theater. The interior was decorated with old movie posters. Two pictured George Sand and one promoted Elvis Presley in Jailhouse Rock. The lone example from the Australian film industry was “When the Kellys Rode.” Billed as “an action-packed romance of early Australia,” a blurb breathlessly extolled, “They defied the LAW...... But the Law PREVAILED!”
Now, Ned Kelly and his murderous gang were a vicious and bumbling bunch that made the Symbionese Liberation Army look sophisticated. After a career of robbery and murder, a posse finally cornered them in a farmhouse. Ned Kelly eventually emerged wearing a ridiculous suit of homemade armor. A policeman cirvumvented the armor by shooting him in the leg. Ned was captured, convicted and hanged. End of story.
Somehow, his pathetic exploits caught the Australian imagination, like Billy the Kid. Hence this film. I’m surprised the writers found enough in the Kellys’ exploits to create a screenplay.
But that poster is a hoot.
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Another breakfast. Experienced, we waited until 7:45 before approaching the dining room. It was hold back or don shin guards. When we arrived, the pensioners, their number swollen by yet another busload, were all happily munching toast and Vegemite. We approached the sorry remains of the buffet, managing to find a few scraps to sustain us until lunch.
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Rain continued to make outings impractical. I longed to see the Australian countryside. As I sat looking gloomily out of the hotel window, this fellow appeared.
A red and blue parrot—what a beauty!
Later I asked the hotel manager what kind of bird he was, assuming he wouldn’t know the name of a creature so exotic. He responded, “It’s a Crimson Rosella, mate. Common in these parts.”
Our Crimson Rosella was to be the last natural feature of the Blue Mountains we would see. In fact, except for The Three Sisters, he was to be the only natural feature we would see. Friends awaited us up the coast. We were to leave in the morning, rain or shine.