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Spindly shout of trees: "Bail up, bail up." The horses sweat eucalyptus, manes tangle leaves toss, stamp, snort at the tightly closed car window. The road rises sharply, single-lane bitumen, a no traffic ambush morning. Crowding closer now, only the granite grey and green of Mt Korong remains, solidly in place. I am riding through an overhanging avenue ragged, irregular olive tinges scratching away the chinks of blue, canter over ...