Bush

No, not who has been called the worst president in United States history.  In countries like New Zealand, the bush is how we describe the forest.

Throughout the latter part of this morning me and my father drove up to a track that we have always been familiar with and did about an hour walk each way to find out whether there had been any activity up there.  Last time I had been up there, we had seen a small camp with two sheds converted into sleep outs and bits and pieces laying around to complete the scene.  Today, it is still pretty much the same.  My father figured that whatever had gone on during the boom time was some kind of tourism business about five or six, even many more years ago but had fallen over for some reason.  The place was a mess!

We took in the fresh country air, ate an early lunch then wandered back to our car and came back to the hustle and bustle of little Rio.  The first thing I said to my father when we arrived up there was it was cold.  Given how we were so high above sea level, that would explain the temperature.

Sigh, if only the air was as clean here as it is up there.  We should live up there.  Maybe I will some day.