Skip to main content

Lightning Ridge


We've reached our destination.  The opal town of Lightning Ridge.  If other opal towns we have visited are anything to go by this will be an odd place.  We are going to spend 4 days here before going back home.  Let's go see.

Comments

  1. What is that? It looks like a concrete truck? But why? I have been to Coober Pedy, and THAT was unusual!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. According to the Lightning Ridge info site "Opal dirt' – sandstone and clay mined from the opal level – is taken up to ground level using a hoist or blower, and dumped into the back of a truck.
      The opal dirt is then washed down by tumbling it for several hours inside a modified cement mixer called an agitator. Finally, the remaining 'tailings' are sorted, with keen eyes searching for any hint or trace of opal colour."

      Yeh. I have been to Coober Pedy and Andamooka both very unusual.

      Delete
  2. Hope you find a big opal. I'm going to Coober Pedy next year, my first opal town.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. We were seeking warmth and new places, not opals. You will enjoy Coober Pedy.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Updated Royals

Royal Hotel Durban South Africa
I have updated the Royal Collection at last!  We now have 130 Royals including a recent contribution of 10 Royal Hotels from South Africa.  
I have seen 96 of the Royals myself, just a few more to go to reach 100.


Blue Wren

Having finished the circuit at the zoo we settled down for a nice lunch at the cafe. This chirpy little blue wren came close to our table while his brown wife Jenny jumped playfully on the grass. Nesting swallows swooped in an out of the rafters.
Musing:The Blue Wrens and the Butcher Bird by Judith Wright
"Sweet and small the blue wren
whistles to his gentle hen,
"The creek is full, the day is gold,
the tale of love is never told.
Fear not, my love, nor fly away,
for safe, safe in the blackthorn-tree
we shall build our nest today.
Trust to me, oh trust to me."

Cobwebs they gather and dry grass,
greeting each other as they pass
up to the nest and down again,
the blue wren and the brown wren.
They seek and carry far and near,
down the bank and up the hill,
until that crystal note they hear
that strikes them dumb and holds them still.

Great glorious passion of a voice--
sure all that hear it must rejoice.
But in the thorn-bush silent hide
the nest-builders side by side.
"The…

The end

I retire from the workforce this week and to celebrate have decided to retire my current blogs and start afresh with a single consolidated blog - My Bright Field - to record the delights of my new life adventure.
If you are interested follow me over there.  I will still be Sweet Wayfaring and collecting Royal Hotels.  The delights I discover along the way will appear together with my gardens and towns where I live.