The Drip In Our Minds

That was a surprise, says Wittgenstein. Why paint a horse on a silo?

To attract tourists, says Gaius. When tourists stop, they spend money.

Clever, says Wittgenstein. 

Are we stopping? asks Terence.

No, says Gaius. We must push on.

Sorry snake, says Terence. But you'll like the next place.

How do you know? asks Roo-kai.

Is that you asking or him asking? asks Terence.

Him, says Roo-kai.

Does that mean you know? asks Terence.

No, says Roo-kai. Do you?

No, says Terence. Not till we get there.

The next town is Cassilis, says Gaius.

What's in it? asks Terence.

Let me see, says Gaius. Hmm. Cassilis is renowned for a beauty spot known as the Drip, which is hard to find but well worth the trek. Hmm... hmm.... these are complex instructions.

Are we stopping? asks Wittgenstein.

I think not, says Gaius.

Snake wants to, says Terence.

No, he doesn't, says Roo-kai. Just read the description.

A bush paradise. Water seeps through a honeycombed cliff face and drips into the Goulburn River, reads Gaius. 

Hence the name Drip, says Wittgenstein. 

The place where the seepage occurs is covered in weeping ferns, rock orchids and grasses, says Gaius.

Will we see it? asks Terence.

No, says Gaius. This is how difficult it is to get there. Two point three kilometres past the Hands on the Rock turnoff a signpost leads to a car park at the end of which is a walking track leading to a small bridge and a tumble of rocks, through a glade of ferns and past a large rock on the right beyond which is a sandy riverbank, where a sign indicates a left turn back to the cliff face which you follow to the end, where, after crossing over the grassy bank, a sharp left turn brings you face to face with the Drip.

I see what you mean, says Wittgenstein. Let us picture the Drip in our minds and keep going.