"Go on," I murmured in encouragement to the sky, as the thunder rumbled again and an ominous wind picked up.
I was standing under The Drip in the Goulburn River State Conservation Area, where the brooding clouds were growing darker by the minute.
It had been eerily still as I'd made my way along the track, but as the storm brewed the atmosphere became strangely electric and the birdsong more shrill and frantic.
I dearly hoped it would rain.
I'd planned to be home hours ago but unexpected stories to follow had kept me in Merriwa longer than I'd intended and it was past 4pm by the time I'd reached the carpark.
I figured I punished myself often enough at the gym now to handle a couple of kilometres without bothering to change out of my jeans and boots, and so I set off beneath the towering rocks and followed the sound of water.
The shallow river was running gently and I crunched over the stones to wander closer to the water's edge. I wondered what it would look like during a flood - it almost seemed delicate today - and I leaned over the water as far as I dared to try and capture it on camera.
I felt a little on edge given I still had a good couple of hours worth of driving to go and I marched on under the rocks once more. It was a fairly straightforward walk and I kept up the pace, only stopping to try photograph birds or a particularly nice aspect.
The air felt heavy and I was panting by the time I reached the lookout. I'd started to get concerned that the river would just disappear underground and the lookout wouldn't offer anything to see, but as I looked out over The Drip I was again reminded to stop being such a pessimist.
The wall stretched skywards and curled over with vivid ferns and moss growing from the rock. A sheen of water added a glossy finish to the rock face and I smiled as a periodic dripping sound became louder once I tuned into it.
The damp wall seemed almost tropical and a sharp contrast to the baked paddocks nearby.
My smooth-soled Ariats were already proving to be a definite oversight and I gingerly crept over the rocks and down towards the base.
Water dripped on my head and I felt the temperature drop. Thunder rumbled above me and I realised with a start the humidity was dissipating and being replaced instead by a cool breeze.
I couldn't think of anything better than being caught in the rain and I sat down on a rock to overlook the river. The water seemed to pick up pace as it swirled around the rocks before trickling back as it flowed past the wall and out of sight.
I snapped some more photos and reluctantly decided to make my way back. It was growing darker and the birds screeched as I powered along the track towards the car.
I rounded the corner and stopped, cursing myself for making so much noise. A bird - I didn't know what sort - was pacing on the track as it called to its mate.
I fumbled with my camera and missed the shot as it plunged into the undergrowth, but shortly I saw a glimpse of its mate on the other edge of the scrub, and I crept around to get a photo before it too disappeared.
I jumped in the car and pulled out just as the rain began to fall. Fat droplets hit my windscreen with satisfying intensity and I willed it continue as I made my way home.
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