Buchan and beyond

The countryside seems eerily sad as smoke hangs in the valleys through the state forest where we find ourselves driving on lonely gravel roads devoid of traffic. My mind is conjuring up images of horrific incidents that have occurred over the mountains not far from us.
Steve and I are lost in our own private thoughts as we travel to the junction of the great Snowy River and the Buchan river. There is not a breath of wind and not a soul in sight. We stop to pick blackberries in the mountains and travel up to Mount McLeod where we hear reports of bush fire activities on the UHF radio.