Octagon January, 2017

country roads giving us vistas of rolling green
hills. In fact I was sure that at one point I saw
on top of one of the closer rolling hills, a young
lady in very Austrian looking traditional clothes
with a picnic basket over her arm. She was
dancing about singing at the top of her voice
“The hills are alive with the sound of engines.”
Aka Julie Andrews. But alas. The radio was off
and no one else saw her so I must have been
mistaken. Some later favourable comments
about the views of our iconic Mount Walsh
from many differing angles and perspectives as
well other sights along the way vindicated our
decision to take the group the way we went. Not
even a short, sharp shower of sparse but heavy
raindrops, seemed to dampen the enthusiasm.
Having filled in a gap intended to reinstate our
appetites for lunch we rejoined the Isis Highway
beyond Biggenden and headed for our lunch
venue at another thriving metropolis, namely
Coalstoun Lakes.
No one even seemed disappointed that the
Leprechaun Club, where we had pre-ordered
our meals, was not nestled snugly on the edge
of an expansive waterway.
There were no boats casually bobbing around
at their moorings with little ripples gently
slapping against their sides. No one was fishing
either. That was because there are no lakes
at Coalstoun Lakes. The only similar natural
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