As we enter the mountain encircled hamlet of Walhalla there is a Nova caravan invitingly parked on the lawn amongst the white English daises looking just like an advertisement for caravanning. We have lunch at the Wally Pub sitting on the veranda in the sunshine. There is a flowering plum tree beside us and the pink petals are floating on the warm breeze and drifting through the pub door like confetti. The bees are buzzing and black butterflies are alighting on the blossom. The boys choose a mountainous mixed grill and we girls have an almost as big parma. Almost at bursting point we waddle off down the road to explore the gold rush relics of the town.