Difference between revisions of "2023-08-25 -37 145"

Revision as of 08:42, 26 August 2023

Location

In someone's driveway, Glen Iris.

Participants

Stevage

Expedition 1 (Steve)

On a glorious sunny day, I sally boldly forth from an extended Fitzroy lunch and work my way down towards the Main Yarra Trail. There is the small matter of Fitzroy Gardens to cross first, which I turn into a large matter by dismounting and strolling through. It's too nice a day not to enjoy a garden in fine form, and I'm feeling quite unhurried.

The trail hasn't changed much since the first time I rode it as a teenager, the series of pontoons just as clankily annoying as ever, although the presence of electric scooters dispels any notion that we might be in 1998.

On Gardiner's Creek Trail, I pass a spot where there is a distinct abesence of broken wine bottle, although I don't make much of it at the time.

Through the maze of golf courses, sports ovals and barbecues, I find what I'm looking for: the tunnel under the Monash Freeway leading to the Hedgley Dene Gardens. These I take a cursor look at before finding my destination: a garage roller door on a funny laneway street in rich-person-land.

A moment's anxiety as I'm not entirely convinced that the point is definitely outside the roller door, but I'm satisfied that it's at least a 50% chance with the odds in my favour. I admire a sprawling eucalypt, and am silently grateful to the homeowner that allows it to flourish there.

I'm not sure how far away Laura might be, so I take a less cursory glance at Hedgely Dene Gardens. It packs a lot into a small area. Almost a mini Botanical Gardens in feel, there's a lake, a bridge, cute little pathways and secluded spots, and of course grass to lounge about on and stare upwards.

Which is how I come to notice a tiny fig tree growing out of the top of a much larger palm tree, directly overhead. Sharing this observation with my friends leads to a discussion about the merits (or otherwise) of palm trees, and my frantic wikipedia-researching in order to sound like an expert. You see, dear reader, palm trees actually aren't technically trees at all, joining that dubious list of non-trees-called-trees that includes the grass tree, the tree fern and the Joshua tree. This particular one was probably a Canary Island Date Palm, adding to its list of accomplishments that it also doesn't produce dates, canaries or islands.

The news arrives that Laura has waylaid herself at a brewery and will be some time, so I saunter off home.

In Abbtsford, I am momentarily surprised to discover that the trail is closed, before eventually remembering that I had learnt this fact last week, when I returned from a different geohash this way. I take the same escape route, with much the same results.