Rubbish and goldfields
If there is one thing that I really hate it is people dumping their rubbish in the forest. Unfortunately, it seems to happen all too often.
A mattress dumped and lying beside the fire trail in the forest or a whole trailer load of junk up-ended in the beautiful bush. Bits of plastic and paper and old toys and who knows what else. Rubbish bags full. Torn open by animals. Old furniture. Car parts.
People transport this junk into the forest and leave it here.
Today I am wandering through the goldfields at Happy Valley, Victoria.
Around me everywhere are diggings - signs of considerable industry and activity from days gone by. It is a wonderful journey back in time. I imagine what it was like with hundred of people busy at work looking for gold.
The old-time gold hunters are long gone. Replaced now by people hoping to make a find with their new technology. But there is no one here today. Just the canine crew and I.
Signs of kangaroo, wallaby and echidna. They have reclaimed the land.
We continue to weave through this sparse forest, stepping around the deep mine shafts and over diggings. Occasionally I stop to look at the piles of rocks…maybe a gold nugget will be poking out.
I am heading towards a washed out creek. But before I get there I stop in my tracks. Here, deep in the forest, inaccessible by anything other than legs or trail bike are the remains of an old car (I love the colour).
Turquoise car
How did that get here? It rests in a shallow digging near the creek. Must have been long ago - the trees have grown up all around, hemming it in. It has been here for such a long time.
I am both annoyed and fascinated by it.
People have been using it as target practice with their rifles and stones. I resist the temptation to do the same.
The dogs undertake a close inspection. Maybe it has become shelter to the local animals.
All around me, are mounds of white river pebbles rounded by the force of the water.
As we move away from the creek the stones change significantly and become jagged quartz, white and pink with black stripes. These are the signs the gold diggers were looking for. The hiding places for gold.
One of the dogs is on the scent of something, probably a wallaby. The others nose around the diggings.
We continue back towards the car and I am annoyed again now.
Idiots have dumped their rubbish into the diggings as though this was a tip. Rubbish all over the place.
I head home to vent to the local paper. A letter to the editor about the need to preserve the goldfields and clean up the rubbish.
That ought to do it!