On the way to the Queen's Land

After feeling so sick the previous day I woke at 4am for some reason to travel to Queensland to wander aimlessly around Universities.  I still don't understand how I managed but at about 8am (NSW time) I wrote this:

To be honest I'm just glad to be travelling.  The bus is surprisingly quiet (mostly everyone's asleep) and it is sorta relaxing.  I have almost slept, that being I pretended to be asleep but couldn't be sure if it actually caught up with me, until Woodburn(two hours north). I'm awaiting the famed (well in my head it is) corner down to the Byron valley (so pretty!)

And this, wondering about the 1 hour time difference between the two states for 6 months of the year:

Who says we haven't invented time machines yet? They're all over the world and their called time zones.  It feels like there should be a shimmering barrier between New  South Wales and Queensland. Perhaps we'll see it when we reach Tweed Heads. 

Perhaps I only survived because of my favourite hill:

The Border Ranges, faint like they're painted upon the sky.  Mount Warning a crooked, watchful figure.  The hills below the darker green of a scrub far, far away .  Like some idyllic pastoral scene the hills roll in green to a single field that pools below the curving highway.  The polka dots upon the mountain's skirts reveal themselves as hamlets, trees and homesteads. 

The colour, the mist, the view!

The land is expansive and enormous and yet it clusters close in this glimpse. The hills gather in a feeling of rising; the meaning of contour is clear.  From the top of the hill, cut into pieces by tree trunks the valleys are sleeping, stretched out beneath you and then in the curve of a parabola the ground floats higher to the edge of the world. 

To the east the sea is a foam mat of blurry turquoise and as the bus glides around the corner the rolling hills reveal another perspective.  Like a carpet it rolls out in front of me, thickening as it draws away. 

It is that corner and the glimpse of field and valley, hill and spur, mountain and ocean that enchants each time I pass it.  Such a snapshot of beauty that every time a new aspect comes to light.  Is it the ancient growl of the mountains in their volcano crater, the sparkling of the bay sides or perhaps just the height and depth of the curve as it pulls you in?