Marulan for Breakfast

I’ve been in Canberra overnight for another rehearsal with Brindabella Chorus, staying with family. A month earlier we’d come down to check out the National Multicultural Festival where Brindabella Chorus were on the program. It was my first performance with Brindabella Chorus that was not part of the competition package.

The Multi Culti, as it’s locally colloquially known, is a gathering from every representative national group (and associated activities) that can be found in Australia’s national capital city. The streets are filled with stalls, many offering food along with information about the people who have prepared it. Performance groups in various national dress wander through the crowds either on their way to a performance, or relaxing after one. Even when the skies opened with a generous thunderstorm right before our performance, it was a colourful and  delightful place. As the rain stopped you could see the steam rising from the dark asphalt.
After the Sunday performance we’d driven back home chasing the same storm, purple skies darkening to night many hours before sunset.

Only three days later I drove back again, on my own this time. We’ve learned that for us, a good midway point is the small village of Marulan. It’s a fascinating place, its claim to fame being that it’s the only town in the world on the 150^th meridian. It also means that in this time zone, at the equinox the days are of exactly equal length here, sunset at 6 pm and sunrise at 6 am.

With the highway dotted with brightly-lit food and fuel stops, highly visible as you approach and easily accessible as a quick lane-slip off the highway, places like Marulan can miss out on the passing trade. As a result, the food is better, the fuel is cheaper, and the relaxing break is more therapeutic. I topped up my tank then drove to Meridian Café for a light lunch.

We first discovered Meridian at Marulan a couple of years ago when we took refuge in heavy rain on our way to Canberra. Other travellers mingled with locals gave sage advice on what to expect further along the road. We sat in the warm café watching the deluge becoming even heavier outside and waited for a break in the weather to continue our journey.

Since then we’ve tried other towns as ‘pit stops’ but we’ve always come back to Marulan. Goulburn is lovely, it’s still got a strong historic feel with its wide streets and late 18^th century building facades, the Paragon Café in Goulburn has glorious old-world charm and the food is great. But Marulan feels like a cosy country farmstead, it feels like home to us.

We had a good rehearsal last night. I usually can only attend online, being able to come to Canberra for a rehearsal in person is hard work but full of joy. There’s nothing like being surrounded by the music to really help you learn it well.

Next morning I knew I’d be on the road early. I’m an early riser even when I’ve been late to bed. The sun was barely up but my granddaughter was already dressed and packing her bag.

“Such a glorious view,” I commented at the vista of hills tipped with gold from the sunrise. “Look at the mist still pooled down low in the hollows!”

“That’s what we call ‘failure to load’,” my computer-savvy granddaughter remarked.

I chuckled. It did indeed look like a computer game that had started to load, then stopped with blank areas not filling in.

My stomach takes time to wake up in the mornings. With certain dietary issues (getting older really brings some shocks but it beats the alternative) it was easier for me to plan breakfast on the road. Sometimes it’s a fast-food drive-thru grabbing some bacon and eggs, nourishing but generally unsatisfying. As a result, I’d planned a fast getaway while around me the household got ready for a busy midweek day. Kids heading to school, parents heading to work.

I stayed long enough to be available should one of the kids miss the bus, but I was on the road by 8 am.

The mist had begun to rise quickly, the blue-tinted low, dense clouds warming and stretching in the early morning. By the time I got to Lake George the clouds were just resting on top of the hills on the other side of the lake, as if tethered to the wind turbines. The lake was silver with a thin stripe of pale blue on the far shore. It’s still very full of water, I wonder where the sheep and cattle are grazing now.

The highway was fairly quiet on the weekday morning, I had a good run for the next hour. There was a little excitement — traffic was slowed when we saw flashing lights ahead. A lot of flashing lights. Multiple fire trucks and some police cars, hoses being played on the carbonised wreck of a truck. No sign of a crash, it looked like the truck had simply caught fire. But all being sorted now, nothing to see here…

The Goulburn sign coming up. Advertising for various food stores and for fuel. Over the years we’ve tried them all, I’ve even written about some of them in previous blogs here. But this time I wasn’t tempted. Not today. I was enjoying the wide open spaces.

It was late morning when I finally swung off the highway for the short drive into Marulan. First to fill up. Then a minute or two down the road and I’ve gone back in time to a quieter, calmer place. I parked across the road and my stomach rumbled in anticipation as I headed up the steps.

Inside it was as welcoming as ever. Room for me, but definitely not empty. The woman behind the counter looked up and smiled. “We only saw you yesterday. Same again?”

I ordered my breakfast (brunch by now) and ducked into the loo while I waited.

It was the best bacon and eggs I’ve had anywhere on this drive. They’d slipped some slices of lightly grilled tomato onto the plate as well.

All too soon I was finished, fed, rested and ready to head off. As I left the café it was quiet outside, bees buzzing in nearby lavender bushes clearly audible over the distant hum of traffic from the highway. I debated a visit to the antique shop next door but figured it can wait until next time.

I’ll be back.