Kangaroo Valley, or, And the Oscar for Most Misleading Place Name Goes to...

As mentioned in a previous post, my team had won first place for our company holiday party film competition. We each got a gift certificate to Flight Centre, and the decision was unanimous to combine the vouchers to get a holiday home for a few days that we all could enjoy. After a rather extensive research / voting process, we finally decided on a holiday rental down in Kangaroo Valley, a few hours south of Sydney. The pictures made it look warm and idyllic, two of the selection criteria laid forth by the group.

We left on a Friday - I was riding with my friend Jared, and we were making a quick detour through Wollongong to pick up his wife (there were a few +1s coming for the weekend as well). A couple of my teammates are from there, so while I had been hearing about it for quite some time, I hadn't actually had the chance to see it yet.

Traffic leaving Sydney was abysmal - there's a good chance I could have gotten a piggyback ride from a blindfolded arthritic gorilla and left Sydney faster than the traffic allowed us. When we finally got out of Sydney proper, it cleared up. It was raining, which laid out the setting for the remainder of the weekend.

After making a brief stop at the 'Gong to pick up Kim and some sundries, and getting a somewhat unintentional tour of the city (Jared is still new to Wollongong), we began the final leg of the drive.

The route took us through some rather interesting geography - a small-ish national park with roads that had me thinking impure thoughts of spirited driving. As we got closer, the rain got heavier and the hills began to wreak havoc on my cell phone signal, which we were using to navigate. This resulted in a rather interesting experience.

The nav software on my phone runs on 2 systems: Google Maps for the actual map display, and satellites for the actual nav path mapping / placement. The former relies on a data connection, while the latter simply needs a view of the sky. As my signal faded, so did the phone's ability to load the map. What this meant is that we were eventually following a blue line but no map through rainy wilderness. It resulted in one wrong turn (my fault), but we eventually got there.

The rest of the group had already arrived. We had divided up meal responsibilities for the weekend, and Deborah and I (Team America) were kicking off the weekend with tacos.

Before moving on, I wanted to say a bit about the house itself: Braeside. It was absolutely spectacular. Warm, spacious, amazing kitchen, copious covered patio area (which came in handy considering it rained nonstop the entire weekend), lots of seating, and was just an unbeatable value. There were around a dozen of us there for the weekend, and it never once felt cramped. Highly, highly recommended.

Right - moving on.

To summarize the weekend in one word...uh... 'relaxilarious.' I didn't say it was going to be a real word. Much of the time was spent lounging around, eating fantastic home-cooked food (scrambles for breakfast, pie for lunch, lamb and prawns for dinner), drinking wine / mojitos, laughing, and jamming on guitar. There was a hot tub in the back of the house, which - while likely only meant for 6 people - we managed to fill to double its intended capacity. When we all got out, the water level dropped to the halfway mark.

An unintentionally-menacing decorative

statue just outside of our guest cottage.

Or perhaps it was intentional...

Rain around the patio - a not unfamiliar sight

by the end of the weekend.

Little-known fact: it was actually a horse on

the grassy knoll, not Oswald.

Mark attempts to lure the chickens ('chooks') to

no avail. We were allowed to feed them and help

ourselves to any eggs, but after a not-quite-

exhaustive search, we were only able to produce

a single anemic egg.

The surrounding landscape was beautiful - lush,

quiet, in the middle of nowhere. Would have

made one hell of a setting for a slasher film.

Mark, Annie, and Deborah hard at work making

brownies. Well, Annie and Deb are; Mark is

just being a distraction.

Jared entertains us with a few piano favorites

(which, to his credit, were quite good, despite

the horrifically out-of-tune piano).

Fit for a king - our dinner the second night. Grilled

lamb, prawns, pasta salad, regular salad, corn on

the cob, bread, and lots of wine.

While we were sitting outside, a bunch of these

small frogs were hopping all over the place. I

would grab one, walk up to someone unsuspecting,

and say 'Hey, I've got something for you,' depositing

the frog into their open hands. Surprisingly, the

most common reaction was 'Aww, cute!'

A massive moth camped out on the barbie as

the meat was being grilled. I tried to catch him

to use to summon the Great Eagle, but only ended

up with moth dust and bits of wing on my hand.

One of the local's horses - after feeding this one

some buttered bread (similar to what horses

eat in the wild), it followed me up and down the

entire length of the fence.

View back toward the house from the edge of

the property.

Mark 'driving' while sitting at the 'world

domination table.' So perfectly happy in his

own little world...

On Saturday, most of us decided to go canoeing at Tallowa Dam, a portion of Lake Yarrunga running through some truly striking canyons. Not surprisingly, it was raining, but that didn't stop us. It was not a cold rain - had it been otherwise, it would have been considerably less enjoyable (read: overwhelmingly miserable). We got on the water paddled for a few hours, and stopped for lunch.

We had stopped on the way to the water to pick

up some pies. Lashing the boats together, we had

a great lunch on the water.

All smiles.

After lunch and a bit more paddling, we all decided to go for a swim. There's something to be said for swimming in warm water in the rain surrounded by plunging canyon walls. The water was an emerald green color, and dropping below the surface and looking upward gave one a rather unsettling feeling.

The scenery - doesn't get any better than this.

Because of the rain, there were a few small

waterfalls that came leaping over the side of

some of the canyon walls.

The spillway at the start of our journey. We noted

that the posted signage was woefully

unrepresentative of the actual danger of the

spillway for people who might unwittingly paddle

toward it (i.e. - me).

At the end of the trip, we all agreed: we would have to do this again.

Oh, and despite the implications of the name, we saw only one kangaroo go hopping madly across the property.