Australia (November to January)
A rare moment of activity
Part 7 - Victoria
You might think a koala would make a cute squeaky kind of sound, befitting of its cute cuddly appearance, but no. A koala makes the sort of sound you might expect to hear should a pig and a donkey decide to mate with unbridled passion. Camp is now established, complete with 3 room tent, comfy blow up mattresses, solar shower, table and chairs and a wine glass for me; and as we camp beneath the Manna Gum trees at Cape Otway, these lovely little creatures keep sentry in the branches above. It is like someone went out to set up an Easter egg hunt, but instead of hiding chocolate eggs, hid teddies in the trees.
The kookaburra birds gather in the boughs of the gum trees each evening around dusk to have a gossip and a giggle. They make a right old racket for a half hour or so, cackling and chortling. In the mornings, the cockatoos and parrots of red, yellow, blue, green and pink swirl around nearly taking your head off. And while venomous snakes and spiders abound, we haven’t seen one yet … apart from the bloody big one that we saw from the safety of our car on the Great Ocean Road near Apollo Bay. Driving along the Great Ocean Road to get here was a pleasure, with the very blue ocean to our left playing host to surfers riding the huge breakers, and views stretching for miles to our right across vibrant green rolling hills, punctuated by forest. As we approached the Otway range, I have never seen so many trees in one place. It is brilliant, but mostly I love the koalas. They are very round and fluffy, and have the most pleasing fuzzy ears and the cutest face. They sleep most of the day, stirring occasionally to find a more comfortable position or to stretch a leg. As the light begins to wane, they get a bit of energy and move higher up the tree to munch on some leaves, have a bit of a scratch, then curl up for another snooze. Occasionally they come down a tree, waddle along the ground and climb up a new tree.
You also might think it would occur to us that camping next to a rainforest might result in us experiencing a spot of rain, but occur to is it didn’t and rain it did. We arrived on a beautiful sunny day and enjoyed a euphoric afternoon at camp. Our euphoria turned to mild discomfort during the night when it became very cold and we remembered that we hadn’t yet acquired sleeping bags. Though we waited and waited for the sun to break in the morning and warm us through, it didn’t and the rain set in for the following 48 hours. After many a happy camping holiday in the summer rains of Devon and Cornwall throughout my childhood, I am conditioned to the joys of soggy camping, and we are made of sturdy stuff so we carried on regardless. We bought sleeping bags, holed up and watched Tom and Jerry on the laptop. I like the sound of rain on canvas and our tent held out well against the precipitous onslaught.
You might think a koala would make a cute squeaky kind of sound, befitting of its cute cuddly appearance, but no. A koala makes the sort of sound you might expect to hear should a pig and a donkey decide to mate with unbridled passion. Camp is now established, complete with 3 room tent, comfy blow up mattresses, solar shower, table and chairs and a wine glass for me; and as we camp beneath the Manna Gum trees at Cape Otway, these lovely little creatures keep sentry in the branches above. It is like someone went out to set up an Easter egg hunt, but instead of hiding chocolate eggs, hid teddies in the trees.
The kookaburra birds gather in the boughs of the gum trees each evening around dusk to have a gossip and a giggle. They make a right old racket for a half hour or so, cackling and chortling. In the mornings, the cockatoos and parrots of red, yellow, blue, green and pink swirl around nearly taking your head off. And while venomous snakes and spiders abound, we haven’t seen one yet … apart from the bloody big one that we saw from the safety of our car on the Great Ocean Road near Apollo Bay. Driving along the Great Ocean Road to get here was a pleasure, with the very blue ocean to our left playing host to surfers riding the huge breakers, and views stretching for miles to our right across vibrant green rolling hills, punctuated by forest. As we approached the Otway range, I have never seen so many trees in one place. It is brilliant, but mostly I love the koalas. They are very round and fluffy, and have the most pleasing fuzzy ears and the cutest face. They sleep most of the day, stirring occasionally to find a more comfortable position or to stretch a leg. As the light begins to wane, they get a bit of energy and move higher up the tree to munch on some leaves, have a bit of a scratch, then curl up for another snooze. Occasionally they come down a tree, waddle along the ground and climb up a new tree.
You also might think it would occur to us that camping next to a rainforest might result in us experiencing a spot of rain, but occur to is it didn’t and rain it did. We arrived on a beautiful sunny day and enjoyed a euphoric afternoon at camp. Our euphoria turned to mild discomfort during the night when it became very cold and we remembered that we hadn’t yet acquired sleeping bags. Though we waited and waited for the sun to break in the morning and warm us through, it didn’t and the rain set in for the following 48 hours. After many a happy camping holiday in the summer rains of Devon and Cornwall throughout my childhood, I am conditioned to the joys of soggy camping, and we are made of sturdy stuff so we carried on regardless. We bought sleeping bags, holed up and watched Tom and Jerry on the laptop. I like the sound of rain on canvas and our tent held out well against the precipitous onslaught.
Home
Our first two weeks in Australia were mostly spent recharging our batteries and catching up with old friends - Peter, who I shared many an enjoyable afternoon with writing assignments for our MBA course, and a fun week in Boston sampling long island iced teas and attending the odd lecture; and Jay ‘Hot Sax’ of Zulu Groove fame who shared some heady band days with Andy back in their early twenties when apparently pink leggings and bad mullets were a sexy thing. During our first week with Peter and Caroline in Diamond Creek, we acclimatised, bought a car and a load of camping stuff and pootled around the greater Melbourne area. We took a trip up to the 88th floor of the Eureka Tower in Melbourne which afforded amazing 360 degree views of the whole city. Amy went out on ‘The Edge’, a little glass box that slides out from the side of building allowing the passengers to look down through the glass floor at the city below. She went alone as none of the adults accompanying her had the balls to join her! I have happily resumed my wine tasting tour of the world, having spent an afternoon with Caroline, tasting our way around the Yarra Valley. A couple of good whites and a jolly good red, but I have to say so far, the South African wines are just a bit yummier. I’m not done yet though.
To bookend our camping foray in the forest, we started and ended last week in Williamstown with Jay, Jessica and Millie, mostly eating, drinking, lounging around, eating a bit more and drinking a bit more ... perfect visit really. Holly and Millie, who are just a couple of months apart in age, became firm friends. We successfully panned for gold at Sovereign Hill, and spent Sunday at the harvest picnic tasting more wine and sampling the food. We even managed to fit in a gorgeous roast dinner in the evening, the first roast we’ve had since leaving Blighty. It did take Jay three hours to cook it, more on account of the wine tasting than the size of the chook.
Part 8 - Pitstop
Today is 1st December - the first day of Christmas advent and also the first day of summer (again)! The weather is beautiful, like a really nice English summer’s day, the way they used to be when we were kids. Holly and I both have colds, though I don’t know if they are summer or winter colds. We have been on the road for exactly 3 months. Before we came on this trip, I read from a number of different sources that the 3 month point usually marks a period of travel fatigue, sensory overload and homesickness. Yup, we do feel some of that. We have seen so much amazing scenery and done so many amazing things, that I think we are all suffering a bit of sensory overload. We have travelled hard for 3 months and are a little weary so we’re currently staying a couple of days in a cabin in Echuca on the Murray River, recovering from our ailments and recharging our batteries.
When we first arrived in Melbourne, it was so comfortingly normal and familiar after our adventures in Asia. Melbourne is, after all, the most European city and Victoria the most conservative state in Australia. We have enjoyed our time here, but are now craving some of the Australia of our imaginings. You know, a bit more Croc Dundee: burly weather worn men with scruffy beards and not much in the way of tact, drinking beer in the local pub that is the only building for miles; vast open expanses of nothingness with the odd kangaroo hopping along the side of the road; and rugged mountain ranges.
And so, with our travel spirit renewed, we will set off tomorrow in the direction of Mungo National Park and see if we can’t find ourselves a nice spot to camp in the bush. We’re off to town later to stock up on long life milk, gas for the cooker, tins of beans and a shovel to dig a dungee. We may be offline for a while.
To bookend our camping foray in the forest, we started and ended last week in Williamstown with Jay, Jessica and Millie, mostly eating, drinking, lounging around, eating a bit more and drinking a bit more ... perfect visit really. Holly and Millie, who are just a couple of months apart in age, became firm friends. We successfully panned for gold at Sovereign Hill, and spent Sunday at the harvest picnic tasting more wine and sampling the food. We even managed to fit in a gorgeous roast dinner in the evening, the first roast we’ve had since leaving Blighty. It did take Jay three hours to cook it, more on account of the wine tasting than the size of the chook.
Part 8 - Pitstop
Today is 1st December - the first day of Christmas advent and also the first day of summer (again)! The weather is beautiful, like a really nice English summer’s day, the way they used to be when we were kids. Holly and I both have colds, though I don’t know if they are summer or winter colds. We have been on the road for exactly 3 months. Before we came on this trip, I read from a number of different sources that the 3 month point usually marks a period of travel fatigue, sensory overload and homesickness. Yup, we do feel some of that. We have seen so much amazing scenery and done so many amazing things, that I think we are all suffering a bit of sensory overload. We have travelled hard for 3 months and are a little weary so we’re currently staying a couple of days in a cabin in Echuca on the Murray River, recovering from our ailments and recharging our batteries.
When we first arrived in Melbourne, it was so comfortingly normal and familiar after our adventures in Asia. Melbourne is, after all, the most European city and Victoria the most conservative state in Australia. We have enjoyed our time here, but are now craving some of the Australia of our imaginings. You know, a bit more Croc Dundee: burly weather worn men with scruffy beards and not much in the way of tact, drinking beer in the local pub that is the only building for miles; vast open expanses of nothingness with the odd kangaroo hopping along the side of the road; and rugged mountain ranges.
And so, with our travel spirit renewed, we will set off tomorrow in the direction of Mungo National Park and see if we can’t find ourselves a nice spot to camp in the bush. We’re off to town later to stock up on long life milk, gas for the cooker, tins of beans and a shovel to dig a dungee. We may be offline for a while.
Stuck!
Part 9 - The Outback
“Enough of this civilisation, let’s head for the Outback!” we cried, as we headed North from Echuca towards the red desert. Anticipation high, the Murray River and agricultural landscape eventually gave way to a rust coloured landscape. The bitumen road gave way to dirt track, allegedly about 2 hours from our destination, Mungo National Park.
Imagine a seemingly endless and very wide red dirt road. But for the eucalyptus trees and blue bush scrub, sparsely dotted around on either side of the wide red dirt road, a few kangaroos and emus here and there, there is nothing and no one for miles. The landscape is flat, the sky is huge and the horizon is very far away. The ‘road’, and surrounding bush, is decorated occasionally with carcasses in various stages of decomposition (from sun bloated and about to pop, to half eaten, to just a rack of ribs); mostly kangaroos, but occasionally sheep and the odd goanna, just a reminder of the harshness and remoteness of this environment. Cries of “Ah, this is more like it!” could be heard frequently in Mitsy, our trusty steed, as we drove contentedly for miles through the awesome desert. We gave ourselves pats on the back for being such daring explorers, taking the kids camping in the Outback.
Water is a wicked mistress in the Outback. She is either in short supply and one has to fill one’s solar shower with rain water from the water butt, or she lies in wait in muddy clay puddles! Every now and again the Outback enjoys some rains. When this happens, the roads become wet and impassable. Indeed, the roadside signs inform you that the roads become impassable when wet. There we go again, with scant regard for warning signs! The clay puddles that the rain creates can take days to dry out, so while the rest of the bush becomes arid once again, these evil quagmire traps lie in wait, just beyond the next heat haze. After about 3 hours of driving along this wide red dirt road, having seen not a soul, we happened upon just such a puddle. Now those infrequent folk who do pass along this track and come across such a puddle in their very suitable 4 wheel drive trucks either plough right on through that puddle, or they go around it, up onto the verge and carve a neat new little track alongside the real ‘road’.
“That’s a bit of a bugger, how do you suppose we negotiate this then?” I wondered aloud, while Andy used a more choice turn of phrase to express his concern. “The track on the left looks like a complete no go, it’s too deep” I offer helpfully. He says nothing. “We can’t go through the middle, that’s just one massive puddle” I further, stating the obvious. “What’s going on?” quivers Amy. “Wheels on bus round and round” chimes Holly. “We need to get up on the verge, there’s a secondary track on the right but I don’t know, we could very easily get st....” Too late, Andy has already chosen his path and is not one to hang about. “Wheels on bus round and round.” Yes, they most certainly do. Round and round and round, spinning further and further into the mud. We are now experiencing one of those moments.
“What are you doing?” I squeal. “We’re going to die in the Outback!” “Babies on bus waa waa waa.” As do the Mummies by this point. There ensue a few moments of disbelief and mild alarm in the station wagon as we sit there, firmly wedged in the mud at a jaunty angle, surrounded by puddle on all sides, cargo loosely hanging on to the roof rack, bumper loosely hanging on the car. While I sit with my head in my hands moaning softly, Andy decides that he’ll get out and survey the situation. With some grace, he manages to jump from the driver’s seat, across several feet of puddle, onto the edge of road, without getting too much mud on his shoes and trousers. “The car’s too laden, we’re going to have to take everything out” is the initial verdict. So Amy and I dutifully leap out of our side of the car. Holly remains in her seat looking a little intrigued, the mummies on the bus not chatter, chatter, chattering with quite so much aplomb anymore. Immediately we feel the full force of the desert sun and are swarmed with flies. Oh yes, the Outback!
“It’s a front wheel drive” informs Andy. “We need some sizeable logs to wedge under the wheels to give it some traction.” We all pull together now and look about us, at the vast expanse of Outback, with its sparse population of blue bush (a very small bush with barely a twig, never mind a large log) and some eucalyptus halfway towards the horizon. As we each pick through the bush in different directions, mindful of the many venomous snakes that may lurk at our feet, swatting flies from our beings, searching desperately for sizeable logs among the sun bleached carcasses and bones, I am keeping one eye open for suitable spots in which to pitch the tent should the worst come to the worst; and imagining how it will be to breathe my last breath in the Outback and become just another one of those sun bleached carcass.
After a seemingly endless time, Andy comes back across the bush victoriously wielding a couple of sticks which he wedges behind the tyres. Once back behind the wheel (having executed a big leap over the passenger seat), he inches the car back over the sticks, a process we repeat several times until the car is finally free from the puddle’s evil grasp. “Thank goodness for that!” is not what was said. We then reverse back down the wide red dirt road to a point before the puddle starts, then drive up onto the secondary side track and continue on our way. Which is, of course, what we should have done in the first place! Really should have heeded those signposts. Mitsy’s undercarriage is now held together with duct tape and a bulldog clip. Never travel without duct tape and bulldog clips!
We arrived at the campsite in Mungo National Park 9 hours after leaving Echuca. The national parks in the Outback are unmanned … on account of them being in the middle of nowhere. You leave your camping fee in an envelope, and off you trundle into the wilderness. The campsite was deserted, except for the kangaroos and some flies. As we pitched, to the sound of birdsong, a big full yellow moon rose up through the trees. Awesome! When the water, longlife milk and tinned food ran out we moved North to Broken Hill, an Outback mining town with a lot of character; some fantastic Victorian buildings in traditional Australian colonial style. A great small town atmosphere with streets named after chemical compounds such as Bromide Street and Oxide Street, befitting of its mining heritage. A true Outback town, where the women look like men, the men look like real men, and the emergency services earn their keep 😉
“Enough of this civilisation, let’s head for the Outback!” we cried, as we headed North from Echuca towards the red desert. Anticipation high, the Murray River and agricultural landscape eventually gave way to a rust coloured landscape. The bitumen road gave way to dirt track, allegedly about 2 hours from our destination, Mungo National Park.
Imagine a seemingly endless and very wide red dirt road. But for the eucalyptus trees and blue bush scrub, sparsely dotted around on either side of the wide red dirt road, a few kangaroos and emus here and there, there is nothing and no one for miles. The landscape is flat, the sky is huge and the horizon is very far away. The ‘road’, and surrounding bush, is decorated occasionally with carcasses in various stages of decomposition (from sun bloated and about to pop, to half eaten, to just a rack of ribs); mostly kangaroos, but occasionally sheep and the odd goanna, just a reminder of the harshness and remoteness of this environment. Cries of “Ah, this is more like it!” could be heard frequently in Mitsy, our trusty steed, as we drove contentedly for miles through the awesome desert. We gave ourselves pats on the back for being such daring explorers, taking the kids camping in the Outback.
Water is a wicked mistress in the Outback. She is either in short supply and one has to fill one’s solar shower with rain water from the water butt, or she lies in wait in muddy clay puddles! Every now and again the Outback enjoys some rains. When this happens, the roads become wet and impassable. Indeed, the roadside signs inform you that the roads become impassable when wet. There we go again, with scant regard for warning signs! The clay puddles that the rain creates can take days to dry out, so while the rest of the bush becomes arid once again, these evil quagmire traps lie in wait, just beyond the next heat haze. After about 3 hours of driving along this wide red dirt road, having seen not a soul, we happened upon just such a puddle. Now those infrequent folk who do pass along this track and come across such a puddle in their very suitable 4 wheel drive trucks either plough right on through that puddle, or they go around it, up onto the verge and carve a neat new little track alongside the real ‘road’.
“That’s a bit of a bugger, how do you suppose we negotiate this then?” I wondered aloud, while Andy used a more choice turn of phrase to express his concern. “The track on the left looks like a complete no go, it’s too deep” I offer helpfully. He says nothing. “We can’t go through the middle, that’s just one massive puddle” I further, stating the obvious. “What’s going on?” quivers Amy. “Wheels on bus round and round” chimes Holly. “We need to get up on the verge, there’s a secondary track on the right but I don’t know, we could very easily get st....” Too late, Andy has already chosen his path and is not one to hang about. “Wheels on bus round and round.” Yes, they most certainly do. Round and round and round, spinning further and further into the mud. We are now experiencing one of those moments.
“What are you doing?” I squeal. “We’re going to die in the Outback!” “Babies on bus waa waa waa.” As do the Mummies by this point. There ensue a few moments of disbelief and mild alarm in the station wagon as we sit there, firmly wedged in the mud at a jaunty angle, surrounded by puddle on all sides, cargo loosely hanging on to the roof rack, bumper loosely hanging on the car. While I sit with my head in my hands moaning softly, Andy decides that he’ll get out and survey the situation. With some grace, he manages to jump from the driver’s seat, across several feet of puddle, onto the edge of road, without getting too much mud on his shoes and trousers. “The car’s too laden, we’re going to have to take everything out” is the initial verdict. So Amy and I dutifully leap out of our side of the car. Holly remains in her seat looking a little intrigued, the mummies on the bus not chatter, chatter, chattering with quite so much aplomb anymore. Immediately we feel the full force of the desert sun and are swarmed with flies. Oh yes, the Outback!
“It’s a front wheel drive” informs Andy. “We need some sizeable logs to wedge under the wheels to give it some traction.” We all pull together now and look about us, at the vast expanse of Outback, with its sparse population of blue bush (a very small bush with barely a twig, never mind a large log) and some eucalyptus halfway towards the horizon. As we each pick through the bush in different directions, mindful of the many venomous snakes that may lurk at our feet, swatting flies from our beings, searching desperately for sizeable logs among the sun bleached carcasses and bones, I am keeping one eye open for suitable spots in which to pitch the tent should the worst come to the worst; and imagining how it will be to breathe my last breath in the Outback and become just another one of those sun bleached carcass.
After a seemingly endless time, Andy comes back across the bush victoriously wielding a couple of sticks which he wedges behind the tyres. Once back behind the wheel (having executed a big leap over the passenger seat), he inches the car back over the sticks, a process we repeat several times until the car is finally free from the puddle’s evil grasp. “Thank goodness for that!” is not what was said. We then reverse back down the wide red dirt road to a point before the puddle starts, then drive up onto the secondary side track and continue on our way. Which is, of course, what we should have done in the first place! Really should have heeded those signposts. Mitsy’s undercarriage is now held together with duct tape and a bulldog clip. Never travel without duct tape and bulldog clips!
We arrived at the campsite in Mungo National Park 9 hours after leaving Echuca. The national parks in the Outback are unmanned … on account of them being in the middle of nowhere. You leave your camping fee in an envelope, and off you trundle into the wilderness. The campsite was deserted, except for the kangaroos and some flies. As we pitched, to the sound of birdsong, a big full yellow moon rose up through the trees. Awesome! When the water, longlife milk and tinned food ran out we moved North to Broken Hill, an Outback mining town with a lot of character; some fantastic Victorian buildings in traditional Australian colonial style. A great small town atmosphere with streets named after chemical compounds such as Bromide Street and Oxide Street, befitting of its mining heritage. A true Outback town, where the women look like men, the men look like real men, and the emergency services earn their keep 😉
Broken Hill Christmas pageant
We awoke on our first morning, the day of the Broken Hill Annual Christmas Pageant, and as we stopped at the play park on our way to the camp kitchen to make tea, we noticed several police cars, a forensics van and 2 ambulances gathering at one of the cabins opposite our tent site, shortly after which one of the ambulances drove slowly away. As we had sat on the lawn near our tent the previous evening drinking wine, making friends with our new neighbour and searching the star filled skies for the Southern Cross, a 31 year old man sat dying by his own hand in Cabin 35, just a few feet away. According to the park owner who found him, he had checked in for two nights. On his first night he had written his farewell notes which were lined up neatly on the table. On his second night, he had undressed and folded his clothes neatly on the bed, got inside a plastic bag (to prevent any mess), sat in the chair (so as not to die on the bed) and swallowed a lot of pills. A sad and very considered exit.
Later that day, we realised one of our bags with the beach things, snorkel gear and waterproofs in had gone missing from the roof rack, so we went down to the police station to report it for insurance purposes. They were busy processing the details of the deceased’s car. Later still, driving home after the pageant, the services were out again attending to someone we suspect was the worse for wear after the festivities, who lay collapsed on the pavement! The Christmas Pageant was a wonderful affair. The whole town seemed to be out for the occasion, to watch representatives from the town businesses, clubs, schools and organisations drive their floats (ranging from fire engines, to vintage cars, to gymnasts, to trucks) along the main street, with waves and shouts of greeting to friends and family as they went by, handing out sweets and balloons to the kids. Very bizarre to watch floats decorated with tinsel, bearing angels and Santas, as the late evening sun continues to burn down and we stand there in shorts and sunnies. Strains of ‘chestnuts roasting on an open fire’ do not really conjure the same sentiment when it’s 35+ degrees out. We spent 6 days in Broken Hill, just hanging out. We spent an afternoon in Silverton, a ghost mining town on the edge of Broken Hill where they filmed (among others) Mad Max II, A Town Like Alice and Razorback. There is a replica of Mad Max’s car outside the bar. Most of our time there was spent at the bar drinking XXXX.
We left the red desert several days ago now and, after about 500 miles, emerged into the rainforest by the seaside, enjoying some stops along the way. We spent one night in a dugout (an underground motel) among the opal fields of White Cliffs. In another motel in Cobar, Holly took it upon herself to perform an ode to Santa Claus and puked her milk up on Amy’s face. Amy ended up with a perfect big white goatee beard. Poor Amy! We’ve just enjoyed a couple of days near Coffs Harbour, having fish and chips by the ocean at sunset, and swimming and fishing in the lagoons.
After 3+ months of hard travelling and several weeks camping in extreme climates with a very pesky toddler, we are a bit knackered, so we are now holed up in a Cabin in Glen Innes, in the New England Tablelands, until after Christmas. Glen Innes is a lovely small town with an historic main street, surrounded on all sides by national park. Proud of their Scottish heritage, and self-proclaimed ‘Land of the Beardies’ (Andy fits right in), this unassuming little place is the world’s third largest producer of Sapphires. All we need now is a small tree, a bit of tinsel and we’re all set.
Later that day, we realised one of our bags with the beach things, snorkel gear and waterproofs in had gone missing from the roof rack, so we went down to the police station to report it for insurance purposes. They were busy processing the details of the deceased’s car. Later still, driving home after the pageant, the services were out again attending to someone we suspect was the worse for wear after the festivities, who lay collapsed on the pavement! The Christmas Pageant was a wonderful affair. The whole town seemed to be out for the occasion, to watch representatives from the town businesses, clubs, schools and organisations drive their floats (ranging from fire engines, to vintage cars, to gymnasts, to trucks) along the main street, with waves and shouts of greeting to friends and family as they went by, handing out sweets and balloons to the kids. Very bizarre to watch floats decorated with tinsel, bearing angels and Santas, as the late evening sun continues to burn down and we stand there in shorts and sunnies. Strains of ‘chestnuts roasting on an open fire’ do not really conjure the same sentiment when it’s 35+ degrees out. We spent 6 days in Broken Hill, just hanging out. We spent an afternoon in Silverton, a ghost mining town on the edge of Broken Hill where they filmed (among others) Mad Max II, A Town Like Alice and Razorback. There is a replica of Mad Max’s car outside the bar. Most of our time there was spent at the bar drinking XXXX.
We left the red desert several days ago now and, after about 500 miles, emerged into the rainforest by the seaside, enjoying some stops along the way. We spent one night in a dugout (an underground motel) among the opal fields of White Cliffs. In another motel in Cobar, Holly took it upon herself to perform an ode to Santa Claus and puked her milk up on Amy’s face. Amy ended up with a perfect big white goatee beard. Poor Amy! We’ve just enjoyed a couple of days near Coffs Harbour, having fish and chips by the ocean at sunset, and swimming and fishing in the lagoons.
After 3+ months of hard travelling and several weeks camping in extreme climates with a very pesky toddler, we are a bit knackered, so we are now holed up in a Cabin in Glen Innes, in the New England Tablelands, until after Christmas. Glen Innes is a lovely small town with an historic main street, surrounded on all sides by national park. Proud of their Scottish heritage, and self-proclaimed ‘Land of the Beardies’ (Andy fits right in), this unassuming little place is the world’s third largest producer of Sapphires. All we need now is a small tree, a bit of tinsel and we’re all set.
Bearded Dragon causing a road block
Part 10 - Glen Innes
Happy New Year! Much of our Christmas break was gloriously unremarkable. For 12 days we holed up in our cabin in Glen Innes and did nothing. We watched TV, ate a lot and slept. Occasionally we ventured into the town to stock up on groceries at Woolworths or do a bit of Christmas shopping (not easy in these quaint Aussie towns that seem to be stuck in the early ‘80s). Once we ventured into the nearby town of Inverell in the faint, but unfulfilled, hope that it may have more to offer in the quest for Christmas goodies. It took just half an hour to get back. It took 2 hours, however, to get there due to a wrong turn which became a very bumpy dirt track via some tiny little mining towns and a couple of stations (farms). The only event of note was having to stop to shoo a bearded dragon out of the road so we could pass.
Amy fed the chooks in the morning, collected their eggs and put them to bed at night while Chris and Cathy, the caravan park owners, were away over Christmas. Andy used the washing machine to wash his stinky trainers. Amy decorated our ‘Christmas tree’, a big branch kindly sawn off a fir tree and secured to our veranda by Chris, with a box of decorations given to us by Cathy.
And that was about the extent of our activity for a fortnight. Brilliantly boring!
Happy New Year! Much of our Christmas break was gloriously unremarkable. For 12 days we holed up in our cabin in Glen Innes and did nothing. We watched TV, ate a lot and slept. Occasionally we ventured into the town to stock up on groceries at Woolworths or do a bit of Christmas shopping (not easy in these quaint Aussie towns that seem to be stuck in the early ‘80s). Once we ventured into the nearby town of Inverell in the faint, but unfulfilled, hope that it may have more to offer in the quest for Christmas goodies. It took just half an hour to get back. It took 2 hours, however, to get there due to a wrong turn which became a very bumpy dirt track via some tiny little mining towns and a couple of stations (farms). The only event of note was having to stop to shoo a bearded dragon out of the road so we could pass.
Amy fed the chooks in the morning, collected their eggs and put them to bed at night while Chris and Cathy, the caravan park owners, were away over Christmas. Andy used the washing machine to wash his stinky trainers. Amy decorated our ‘Christmas tree’, a big branch kindly sawn off a fir tree and secured to our veranda by Chris, with a box of decorations given to us by Cathy.
And that was about the extent of our activity for a fortnight. Brilliantly boring!
Tired baby, Lady Musgrave Island
This fortnight of inertia had the desired effect and with our wanderlust renewed we have resumed our usual pace in the last week. We headed back to the coast and Amy swapped her BMX for a boogie board and has mostly mastered the art of getting on it at just the right angle and at just the right time to catch a wave. Holly enjoys rolling around in the wet sand at the sea’s edge, covering me with wet sand, jumping the little breakers and running around in endless circles.
One of my lifelong ambitions is to see the 7 wonders of the natural world before the final curtain call. Until recently I had achieved just one on that list, having visited the Grand Canyon a number of times (the most amazing hole in the ground you could ever see). Then, just over a year ago, during an incredible long weekend without the kids in arctic Kiruna, northern Sweden, playing in the snow and enjoying the polar nights, we added the Aurora Borealis to the list. Now, we can add the Great Barrier Reef. We took a trip on a very bumpy boat, barely managing to retain the contents of our stomachs while those around us were losing theirs, for 2 hours to Lady Musgrave Island in the southern section of the reef. We moored at a pontoon with an underwater viewing tunnel, took a glass bottomed boat to the island for a walk around, rode in the semi-submersible and spent several happy hours snorkelling. It was incredible. Holly loved the green turtles swimming by the glass bottomed boat and in the submersible. Amy is like a mermaid, diving down to the bottom of the reef, then gliding back up, she’s got snorkelling cracked and spent about 3 hours straight in the water. We saw so many beautiful fish, massive sea cucumbers, giant clams with colourful frills and so much colourful coral. It was great to see a reef still alive with colour. Another victim of environmental neglect, so many of the world’s reefs are bleached of their colour or dead, but the Great Barrier Reef is very much alive, for now, and it is amazing.
One of my lifelong ambitions is to see the 7 wonders of the natural world before the final curtain call. Until recently I had achieved just one on that list, having visited the Grand Canyon a number of times (the most amazing hole in the ground you could ever see). Then, just over a year ago, during an incredible long weekend without the kids in arctic Kiruna, northern Sweden, playing in the snow and enjoying the polar nights, we added the Aurora Borealis to the list. Now, we can add the Great Barrier Reef. We took a trip on a very bumpy boat, barely managing to retain the contents of our stomachs while those around us were losing theirs, for 2 hours to Lady Musgrave Island in the southern section of the reef. We moored at a pontoon with an underwater viewing tunnel, took a glass bottomed boat to the island for a walk around, rode in the semi-submersible and spent several happy hours snorkelling. It was incredible. Holly loved the green turtles swimming by the glass bottomed boat and in the submersible. Amy is like a mermaid, diving down to the bottom of the reef, then gliding back up, she’s got snorkelling cracked and spent about 3 hours straight in the water. We saw so many beautiful fish, massive sea cucumbers, giant clams with colourful frills and so much colourful coral. It was great to see a reef still alive with colour. Another victim of environmental neglect, so many of the world’s reefs are bleached of their colour or dead, but the Great Barrier Reef is very much alive, for now, and it is amazing.
My turtle
Since then it has been an amazing week of animal encounters. A few nights ago, Amy and I spent the evening at Mon Repos watching an endangered loggerhead turtle laying her second clutch of eggs (108 of them) on the beach. We had a perfect spot, just a foot away directly in front of her. As she was filling in her nest with sand once she had finished laying the eggs, she looked at me several times. She was probably thinking ‘bugger off you arsehole and let me have my babies in peace’, but for me it was an emotional experience. She was working so hard to give her eggs the best start and protect the future of her species. This is her first breeding season and it is perhaps due to her inexperience that she didn’t dig her nest deep enough or far enough back up the beach to give the eggs enough of a chance to hatch, so we had the opportunity to help the rangers relocate the eggs to a new nest they dug (to exacting turtle standards) further back on the beach. Once the turtle had made her way back to the ocean, the rangers dug up the eggs and we helped carry them to the new nest, thus doing our bit towards ensuring these eggs have the best chance of becoming the next generation of turtles. Only one in every 1000 hatchlings will make it to adulthood, and a turtle does not breed until it is around 30 years old. Female turtles will lay 3 clutches of eggs in one breeding season, but they will not breed every year. So our turtle will have headed back to her feeding ground to rest before repeating the process one more time in a few weeks.
As if that wasn’t enough, we went down to Tin Can Bay a couple of mornings ago at 7.30am to see the dolphins that live in the bay. Andy queued up and bought the girls a fish each so that they could hand feed the dolphins, while I tried to keep Holly from sticking her fingers in a very large pelican’s beak. Holly’s face was a picture of amazement when she was handed her little bucket and looked inside to find a small dead fish staring back up at her. Her first move was to try and pick it up, then explain “eugh” as it slipped through her fingers. The girls and I got in line and Amy, then Holly fed their fish to the dolphin. Holly, having been slightly confused as to why she would be given a dead fish in a bucket, was further amazed, and then delighted as the dolphin inched forward and ate her fish. They were such beautiful, gentle dolphins and the girls loved it.
We are now wending our way South towards Sydney and stopped in Beerwah, by the Glasshouse Mountains, for a couple of nights. The animal encounters continued as we spent the day at Australia Zoo to pay homage to the legend that is Steve Irwin. The night before our zoo visit I was looking at the brochure with Holly, talking about the animals, and she particularly liked the wombats. I coaxed her to bed with promises of seeing them in the morning. On waking, she sat up, shouted ‘Wombats’ and jumped out of bed. Needless to say, we visited the little fuzzballs fairly early on and had a job to get her away. It is a fantastic zoo and we were entertained by Terri, Bindi and Robert Irwin during the Wildlife Warriors show. So we encountered some crocs after all, but at a safe distance, Crikey!
And now, we must get on with packing up, ready to move on again.
As if that wasn’t enough, we went down to Tin Can Bay a couple of mornings ago at 7.30am to see the dolphins that live in the bay. Andy queued up and bought the girls a fish each so that they could hand feed the dolphins, while I tried to keep Holly from sticking her fingers in a very large pelican’s beak. Holly’s face was a picture of amazement when she was handed her little bucket and looked inside to find a small dead fish staring back up at her. Her first move was to try and pick it up, then explain “eugh” as it slipped through her fingers. The girls and I got in line and Amy, then Holly fed their fish to the dolphin. Holly, having been slightly confused as to why she would be given a dead fish in a bucket, was further amazed, and then delighted as the dolphin inched forward and ate her fish. They were such beautiful, gentle dolphins and the girls loved it.
We are now wending our way South towards Sydney and stopped in Beerwah, by the Glasshouse Mountains, for a couple of nights. The animal encounters continued as we spent the day at Australia Zoo to pay homage to the legend that is Steve Irwin. The night before our zoo visit I was looking at the brochure with Holly, talking about the animals, and she particularly liked the wombats. I coaxed her to bed with promises of seeing them in the morning. On waking, she sat up, shouted ‘Wombats’ and jumped out of bed. Needless to say, we visited the little fuzzballs fairly early on and had a job to get her away. It is a fantastic zoo and we were entertained by Terri, Bindi and Robert Irwin during the Wildlife Warriors show. So we encountered some crocs after all, but at a safe distance, Crikey!
And now, we must get on with packing up, ready to move on again.
