Peering out the window, I sit mesmerised. I haven't moved for 20 minutes. Neither has the rainbow, its vibrant arc reaching from one side of the lake to the other.
I've never seen a rainbow linger so long. It's as if it's suspended in time and space. Everything is still. And silent. There isn't the slightest ripple on the water and the branches on the trees, that were violently shaking as the storm front swept through, now hang motionless.
The colours are vivid, and not just the rainbow. The grass in the paddock is greener than green and the glow of the emerging sun on the tree trunks is more golden than gold. It's hard to imagine such heavenly serenity, let alone be immersed in it.
When I arrived at The Loft @ Weereewaa (Lake George) a day earlier, the weather wasn't quite so calm. And neither was I.
After a long and torturous battle (aren't they all), my dad recently lost his fight with cancer. The last year was especially difficult with COVID restrictions playing havoc with my tri-weekly visits to his home at Bowral in the Southern Highlands where he stoically held on to independence for as long as he could (and then some), before moving to multiple hospitals and ultimately a hospice.
I'd painfully observed his demise and grieved a lot before his passing. But it's still hard when you finally lose your last parent. It's the end of an era.
During those drives to and from Bowral, wearing a rut into the Federal, Hume and Illawarra highways, the sight of Lake George became more than a welcome distraction for me. On every trip I'd stop at the lookout at Gearys Gap to take a photo of the increasing water level, grab a gulp of fresh air and attempt to look to the horizon, and beyond. It was my five minutes of solace, trying to clear my head before jumping back in the car. Back to reality.
Not, of course, that I need much nudging to appreciate the lake. As any regular reader of these pages will know, Weereewaa has long been my special place. I've penned more column inches on the enigmatic lake's extraordinary history, curious geology, and its treasure trove of natural mysteries, than any other topic. From milking tiger snakes to traversing it in a hovercraft. Enough for a book.
But in closely observing the lake's ebbs and flows for almost four decades, I'd never actually bunked-down on its shores. So, when I needed somewhere to recharge the batteries - or as my friends kept telling me, "time to heal" - I knew exactly where I needed to go.
While the two pairs of fluffy slippers at the end of the bed indicate this secluded B&B is tailor-made for canoodling couples, for me it was my love affair with the lake that drew me here. People say when you are hurting you should surround yourself with things you love, so a couple of days at the lake was in order.
Since owners Rosie and John Windsor started accepting bookings a few years ago, this spacious and light-filled sanctuary has been almost solidly booked-out and it's easy to see why. While for some it's the afternoon tea and breakfast treats Rosie leaves for you to enjoy and for others it's her eclectic styling (yes, that's Rosie's studio underneath), for me it's three things. The view, the view, and the view.
From either of the two decks, you can watch the lake in all its glory, the sunrise, the sunset. And it's not a tantalising glimpse, it's a raw uninterrupted 180-degree view.
I originally planned to spend my days strolling along the edge of the lake or cycling up Lake Road to spy on the bird life. I'd also bought my walking poles so I could clamber up the escarpment, which rises like a giant fossilised wave above the back of the Loft. It's a similar view to that enjoyed by Governor Lachlan Macquarie who renamed Weereewaa as Lake George on a hill not far from here 202 years ago this very month. However, La Nina had other ideas.
Near-constant rain kept me indoors for much of my stay, enabling me to soak up the magic of Weereewaa from every window. As someone always on the move, it made me stop and listen to my surroundings, and to fall under the spell of Weereewaa.
When the rain did stop for a couple of hours, I made the mistake of driving into Bungendore.
I ordered a coffee at my favourite village hang-out, The Gathering Cafe, but walked out before it was even made. Not because their service is slow (quite the opposite in fact) but because it dawned on me that I could visit a café at any time, but today, I was missing out on precious time I could be spending cocooned in my lakeside eyrie.
Thankfully I made it back just in time for the rainbow, which, when it eventually faded, was replaced by a skyline of those bulbous rain-laden Mammatus clouds.
Another downpour was imminent. And I couldn't wait. For while the wide cracks in the lakebed from the last drought have now well and truly vanished, the water still has a long way to rise before it reaches the record levels of the 1870s and 1950s when Weereewaa was "full" and brimming with life.
Nonetheless, after a long hiatus it finally feels like the lake is returning to its glory days.
Maybe my friends were right after all.
Living on the edge of paradise
Douglas: John and Rosie Windsor, your hosts at Loft @ Weereewaa, live next door at Douglas Cottage which is the original gatehouse to Douglas House (now a private residence), a stately guesthouse built in the 1880s to accommodate holidaymakers.
Advertisements from the 1880s to lure visitors to Douglas House boasted "fish and game are in abundance, the scenery is enchanting, there are ferns and wildflowers, and the picnic glens are unrivalled in Australia". At least two boats (Pioneer and The Star) would regularly stop at Douglas's wooden jetty (now gone) to drop off and pick up visitors.
Living by the lake: John and Rosie instantly fell in love with Douglas Cottage when they moved in almost 40 years ago and during this time they have renovated and expanded their historic digs into a beautiful family home. However, as much as they love the history of their cottage, it's living on the edge on the lake that keeps them here.
"We love our paradise here, the lake is always changing, every day there's something different to look at," marvels Rosie who especially likes the pelicans which she has recently spotted in big numbers.
How 'full' is the lake? As revealed in a column earlier this year, as a lake with no natural overflow (apart from through Gearys Gap, but for the lake to get that full both Bungendore and Collector would be under five to 20 metres of water), this is best answered by comparing the current to historical levels. The question is best answered by comparing the current to historical levels. Using the latest available data from September this year, hydrologist Dr Michael Short reports the lake "still has to rise about 80 centimetres to reach the peak seen in mid-1990".
This comparison doesn't consider the big rains of the last two weeks which have swollen the lake even more. In fact, the Windsors now believe the lake is at its highest level since they moved to Douglas Cottage in 1984.
WHERE IN THE REGION?
Rating: Medium
Clue: Hamilton was here 198 years ago
How to enter: Email your guess along with your name and address to tym@iinet.net.au. The first correct email sent after 10am, Saturday October 15 wins a double pass to Dendy, the Home of Quality Cinema.
Last week: Congratulations to Scott Simmons of Conder who was first to recognise last week's photo as a "warning" sign for the pink-tailed worm-lizard (Aprasia parapulchella) at Namarag nature space, located in the Molonglo River Reserve near the northern end of Butters Bridge. Scott, who just beat June McKenzie of Fisher to the prize, reports he "recently took a colleague for a flight over the area to capture an aerial view of the amazing Indigenous artwork recently embedded in the ground".
The Molonglo River Reserve protects the largest known population of the worm-like lizard in Australia. It can grow up to 14cm in length, lives under rocks in grassland and woodland and spends a considerable amount of time in burrows that have been constructed by, and in some cases may still by inhabited by, small ants or termites. It feeds on the larvae and eggs of ants.
Did You Know? Namarag means wattle in the Ngunnawal language.
SPOTTED
During last week's downpour I heard a loud crack in my front yard. When I went to investigate, one of my wattles had cracked in half and collapsed under the weight of water on its leaves and flowers. It's hard to believe just three years ago I was tipping bath water on the same shrub to help it through the drought.
Photo of the Week
How could I go past this shot taken last Sunday from the ocean looking west over Haywards Beach near Bermagui by talented South Coast photographer David Rogers. Yes, that really is snow on the mountains behind.
CONTACT TIM: Email: tym@iinet.net.au or Twitter: @TimYowie or write c/- The Canberra Times, GPO Box 606, Civic, ACT, 2601
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