Either McKenzie or Elton John should be thrilled by the name of this town, I'm not sure which.
Not much to say about Friday. We drove the Hamilton Highway to Port Fairy, through fields of brilliant green dotted with cows and sheep. Then later, the fields became
the brightest shade of yellow that I have ever seen.
The flowers would become rape seeds, to be harvested for oil.
Many fields were waterlogged, two months into the rainy season. By January, everything will be brown again.
We checked into our cabin, about 15 miles the other side of Port Fairy, then returned to watch the mutton birds, otherwise known as shearwaters, returning to Griffith Island. It was freezing cold and windy, getting dark, but the awesome sight of thousands of birds returning to their habitat for the night was well worth it. The photo stinks, but you get the idea.
Whirling birds against a purple sky.
If you ever get to Port Fairy, Victoria, go to The Hub for some tasty dinner and dessert at not bad prices, an unusual combination in this part of the world.
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