I am going for pre-breakfast walks now so am walking closer to 15kms daily. It was great finding our way up the rugged reef to view a large natural pool edged with that shiny green that only moss can do. A walk along one beach over that steep Yamba hill to a pretty cove, where the tide prevented us from walking out to sea. A drive to Angourie completed our stay, well nearly.
Feeling a little too relaxed I took too much time slowing down to the 80 speed limit which this nice man had celebrated with his blue light. After a brief chat he said there will be a request for funds in our Balmain letter box on our return – ouch.
Back along the bountiful Clarence river – what a delightful alternative river drive to the ‘trucked out highway’. A sign to Brushwood and Cowper could not be ignored especially seeing they were only a short way off the road. Brushwood had an hotel and the longest no thoroughfare road I have ever seen – I think a ‘tired of people having a peek’ person had erected this uninviting notice.
Another resident had planted thorny bushes on this mown river bank that meant cars could not be parked and food could not be eaten in this idyllic spot. They couldn’t take my phone though so, as unobtrusively as possible
I took some gems. On the way out, another gem was the Cowper General Store closed forever due to no customers.
A few kms further was the historic village of Ulmarra, with outdoor dining on their captured bank on the Clarence. Just up the road books were spilling out of a ‘used book’ shop started by the grey haired man in danger of being held captive by what looked like thousands of secondhand beauties. He opened 12 years ago because he had a few books lying about. A few more stores lay bare of people as we headed off once more along the mighty Clarence. Branching left to take a photo of a ‘car ferry’, a ‘railway’ gate opened up in tandem with the ferry gate. I gave him a burst of flashing lights which closed both gates and sent him off for the zillionth time across the wet divide.
Soon it was Maclean in the heart of sugar country which may have been the main reason for the bustle in this compact town built round an s-bend.
A middle aged aboriginal greeted me just as I was coming out of the ‘s’ before he ventured down into a small group of fellow countrymen in the mangroves. In return, I asked how his day was going – his answer: “beautiful, just beautiful mate”.
These small towns are on flood plains and like Wagga, have a substantial grass wall on their river side to prevent probable flooding of their towns, and provide an attractive border. Also they face the challenge of less visitors, but the delight of less traffic as the new dual highway opens in the near future.
My poem does not really reflect the breaking of the law that I clearly did, but the laxity in policing some Covid threats that we were faced with yesterday, which could have more dire consequences.

The law’s an ass, just ask Mister Bumble
You’re innocent if you don’t fit the law,
Too guilty if you manage just to stumble
So in or out according to a flaw.
A clever lawyer makes a smart defence
Not whether if their client is right or wrong,
Or whether logically it makes no sense
Or whether evidence is weak or strong.
We often blame the law for poor decisions
But often courts are bound by history,
What’s needed is a clarifying vision
To make it fair without the mystery,
So change the law, stop lawyers blowing gas
Show Mr Bumble that the law”s no ass.