"Oh no, not another one," Sarah, my 18-year-old daughter, groans.
We're on a trip of a lifetime exploring the literary trails of the United Kingdom. Sarah has a passion for 19th-century English literature, and we've made the pilgrimage to Haworth - former home to the famous Bronte sisters.
We were on our way to the Bronte Parsonage Museum, when, on one of the nearby cobbled streets, I just spotted three stone steps leading to nowhere outside an old coach house.
"Look, it's another one!" I holler.
Frustrated, Sarah shakes her head.
"Hurry up or we won't make the museum in time," she exclaims.
What's become of me? Just a couple of weeks ago I wouldn't have looked twice at a set of rough-hewn steps, no matter where they were. Who would?
I blame Jeremy McDonald of Kambah for my sudden obsession with long-abandoned horse mounting blocks.
A few days before we left Canberra, Jeremy sent me an email.
"Why is there a staircase comprising three steps near the corner of Unwin Street and Streeton Drive in Weston?" he asked, attaching a photo of the strange sight.
Jeremy's missive wasn't completely out of the blue. He was following up on a series this column ran several years ago about 'stairs to nowhere'.
Stairs like those at the Cotter that were part of a trial of the concrete forming system used to construct the secondary spillway walls of the enlarged Cotter Dam, and at old sites like the abandoned Captains Flat Mine, where the building that stairs once led to was long demolished.fjen
But these Weston stairs clearly weren't part of a trial concrete pour, nor were they at the site of a former building. No, they were manufactured much more recently.
Curious, I went to investigate and was surprised to find not one, but two sets of the steps, one on either side of the busy Streeton Drive.
Oddly, there's also a pedestrian crossing push-button midway between the stairs and the closest traffic lights, about 15 metres away. And what's more, it's positioned much higher than normal.
It turns out the stairs and seemingly out-of-place push button are part of a designated Pegasus Crossing - a specific crossing for horses and their riders. The buttons are above standard height, so riders don't need to dismount to push the button, and the stairs are for those same riders to readily mount or dismount. Really!
According to Christine Lawrence of the ACT Equestrian Association, the mounting steps (also called blocks) were installed by Roads ACT as part of the 2015 upgrade of the intersection after close consultation with the association.
"The crossing is used by the residents of the Illoura horse paddocks to access Narrabundah Hill and Stromlo," she explains.
"Pegasus crossings complete with mounting steps and equestrian-friendly push-buttons are relatively common in other parts of the world, but we do not have many in Australia."
Of course, in the pre-motor car days, mounting steps would have been much more common. There are a few still in Sydney, but I can't recall seeing any around Canberra, But surely there must be? At old homesteads or churches?
However, in the UK it's a different story. With horse travel dating back much further than in Australia, mounting blocks were once ubiquitous, especially in the 18th century when they were outside just about every church and pub to aid travellers - especially ladies riding side-saddle or those climbing into carriages.
Today, although most are rarely used, if you've developed a sudden obsession for searching them out, you see them everywhere, some blended into the streetscape, others standing alone.
Earlier in the day, I'd delayed our departure from the seaside town of Whitby after I spotted an old mounting block atop the clifftop, though I doubt it was ever used for beachgoers arriving by horse - it was more likely for a postman doing his rounds.
Oh, and yes, much to Sarah's relief, we made it to the Bronte Parsonage before they closed the door for the day. While Sarah was poring over one of the very desk boxes that the sisters wrote their manuscripts on, I struck up a conversation with a guide, who, after I explained why we arrived so late, told me about a 'classic mounting block' at nearby Ponden Hall.
"The hall is an historic 17th-century manor heavily associated with the Bronte family and often considered the inspiration for Thrushcross Grange in Wuthering Heights," she divulged.
"It's got five steps on either side, leading to a small platform atop, you'd absolutely love it," she said.
No prizes for guessing where I took Sarah bright and early the next day.
This column's exposé on the ringing rocks of Kiandra resonated with the Pearce family of Crace, who, after a recent overnight hike to Four Mile Hut, stopped at the melodious roadside attraction.
"Much to our enjoyment we were all able to try out the ringing rocks, including the ones that are kind of long and skinny, a bit like a xylophone bar," reports Andrew Pearce.
"The kids were especially enthusiastic and tested just about every rock in the area," Andrew says, adding "they were super keen to answer your question as to why one rock would ring and another wouldn't."
And what did the budding sleuths discover? "Only those rocks touching other rocks made a ringing sound; the rocks resting directly on the soil didn't ring at all," reveals Andrew.
Mmm... perhaps they are on to something.
This column's quest to track down Canberra's oldest billy continues unabated.
Jenny McLeod of Weston submitted this photo of a well-used billy that belonged to her father, Ian McLeod.
"According to my mum [Bev McLeod], this was his favourite billy," she reports. "I'm not sure exactly how old it is, but he used it when bushwalking in his university days in the early 1950s.
"It has had many years of use since then, until his death in 2020, and mum still uses it when camping occasionally - it's still quite serviceable."
Sure, it looks a bit wider than the average billy, but Ian's billy earns bonus points for being photographed sitting on a copy of this column. I can assure you it's much less confronting than seeing this page covered in animal droppings like I did when recently cleaning out the guinea pig cage of a friend who was on holidays. I'm not sure if he lined the cage that way on purpose or not.
Not quite as old as Ian's trusty relic, but equally as well-travelled, are Glenn Pure's two billies.
"I know exactly when I bought them," asserts Glenn, "it was just before a road crossing of the Nullarbor in December 1978 when I visited several 'wild' caves."
Glenn believes his billies have lasted so well "because they are aluminium so have not corroded or rusted out" and reports he "still uses both on camping trips".
Meanwhile, Joan Heinrich of Page has thrown the cat amongst the pigeons with what defines a billy.
"I still have my father-in-law's 1920s 'Quart Pot' that he used during his many years as a teacher in a Central Australian mission", she reports.
"But I'm unsure whether it qualifies as an official billy, as it's more a billy with the lid as a cup," she confesses.
Rating: Medium
Cryptic Clue: Circle-work
How to enter: Email your guess along with your name and address to tym@iinet.net.au. The first correct email received after 10am, Saturday May 23 wins a double pass to Dendy, the Home of Quality Cinema.
Last week: Congratulations to Charles Body of Kaleen who was the first reader to correctly identify last week's photo as the Nimmitabel Tennis Clubhouse. "No trip to the far South Coast is complete without a stop at the Nimmitabel Bakery and its giant elephant or the equally good cafe over the road," reports Charles. And yes, the clue related to that larger-than-life elephant sculpture, named George after the bakery's first owner, pioneering Dutch-Australian entrepreneur George Van Zanden. Charles just beat Marie-Anne Robinson of Monash and Bill Coote of Campbell to the prize.
Frank Bergersen of Kambah was stopped in his tracks by this cluster offungi in suburban Kambah. "These golden globular beauties are of a type I have not seen before," reports Frank.
I'm reliably informed that these orange mushrooms are Gymnopilus junionus, commonly known as Laughing Jim (or Gym) or Spectacular rustgill.
They are also nicknamed 'Forbidden hamburger buns' as they often appear at first like a toasted bun before growing into more of a convex or flat shape. Warning: never touch or eat mushrooms unless you are 100 per cent certain it is safe to do so.
Still on hamburgers, our best local bun look-a-like, complete with filling, must be this rock at the entry to 'The Sanctuary' in Tidbinbilla Nature Reserve. Oh, and for the record, the 'meat' in this burger is an aplite vein (a fine-grained rock composed of quartz and feldspar) which when it was in the form of a hot liquid, pushed its way into the cracks of the surrounding granite.
