25/04/07: Oldborough Manor II

Phew! Finally got my blogs relatively up to date! This one is actually as current as the ‘date posted’ says it is. I just wanted to put up some photos of my little lammies! This is what is right outside my classroom window: fluffy, wooly sheep and their little lambs. Course, the lambs are going off to the abattoir soon, but we don’t think about that. I must say though, their bleating can sometimes get quite disruptive during class time. And the smell is not necessarily condusive to good learning either...

Meanwhile, school is going quite well. There are only 4 periods in the day here, with a 15 minute break between each period except lunch time which goes longer. Everything else, curriculum wise, is the same as it was in WA. Except they’re a little ahead in terms of wrapping things up in more red tape and bureaucracy and going to private companies with assessments. Shop talk. I’ll stop. I really just wanted to stick up these pictures of the cute lambs outside my window. When the kids are being shitty (I have to be honest, they’re not that bad), I look outside and see them eating the grass and they make me feel good.

21/04/07 – 22/04/07: Cambridge

I woke up bright and early today, packed my bag, and left the house at 07.00. I had £40 in my purse. I walked down to the bus stop by the Wheatsheaf pub, and waited 46 minutes for the number 12 bus to take me to Headcorn train station. The ticket was £3.40. There, I bought a return ticket to Bedford. That was £33.20. Said ticket allowed me to catch a train to London Bridge Station. Where Rachel rang me to find out where I was. And told me to get off and catch a train from King’s Cross Station. Thinking to myself that perhaps my planning and navigational skills may not necessarily be at par with her experience in the city, I decided to give this a go. I got myself to King’s Cross Station, and looked into buying a ticket direct to Cambridge. That was £18.10. Now, I’ve never been a whiz at maths… but somehow I didn’t think that was going to work for me. Worried that my remaining £3.40 wasn’t going to get me a ticket on the stagecoach from Bedford station to Cambridge, I had to ring Rachel and tell her I was going to Bedford and she was to pick me up from the station there. I arrived at Bedford around 12.00; and we got to Cambridge about a half-hour later. I would start complaining about the public transport system here, but Ash has some ridiculous story to tell about the ones in WA. And the photos to prove it. So I won’t complain just yet. Don’t even get me started on the cost.

Sigh! The dramas in my life!

Okay. Cambridge. Very pretty. Very twee. Very dinky. Very pretentious. Very ‘shabby-chic’. Snobbery seem to abound. Lots of cute 1930s style black bicycles with wicker baskets. Kitch. Quaint. All that jazz. They have brochures that says things like: ‘Do not walk on the grass. However, senior members of the college and their guests may walk on the grass’. WTF? Can you imagine it? ‘You there! Yes you without a phD! Get off the grass!’ I won’t dispute that it’s a lovely place to spend one’s uni days that’s for sure. Lazy afternoons on the grass, barbeques on the weekends, punting and down the river. It all sounds and looked pretty wonderful. I must say though, it’s not as if we didn’t all do that when we were at uni. And when you take away the amazing architecture and history, all it is, really, is just another big university. Unfortunately for me, and perhaps, by association, you; I’m not particularly fascinated by architecture and this kind of history. I find it interesting – don’t get me wrong. Just not necessarily fascinating. For more information on Cambridge, speak to a history teacher or click here.

In the meantime, I had a really great time just spending the day with Rachel and Matt and one of Rachel’s friends, Ariel. I must say that as well as the company, it was also because of where I was. It actually felt like a weekend. I felt relaxed. People were busy, but they didn’t look rushed. And you need that around you when you’re trying to relax.

Because most of Saturday was spent traveling, there wasn’t much of it left. We walked around the city a little, and went out for dinner at a Japanese restaurant. I decided to get in as much noodle as I could before heading back to Maidstone (described in one of Rachel’s guidebooks as ‘the eyesore of Kent’ which was to be ‘avoided’ if at all possible). Let’s just say… there were more Asians in Newman.

On Sunday, Ariel, Rachel and I walked to Grantchester to take tea at The Orchard, where the likes of Virginia Woolf, Rupert Brooke and Keynes hung out. That was really nice. A nice leisurely stroll through the town and countryside along the river – where little ducklings were frantically paddling behind the mummy duck – to a charming tea-house; then sitting under these flowering cherry trees all in blooms of pinks and whites; the weather was sublime, it wasn’t too hot, it wasn’t too cool; and because we’d left early, it wasn’t too crowded either; each of us with a little cup of hot tea and a bit of cake… mmmmmm. It was quite devine.

I’d worn some thin socks which rubbed my heels against the inside of my boots, so my feet were bloody sore. And the return journey was just as long as the journey to. But I went home to a hot shower and bed quite content. A lovely weekend away, Cambridge.

09/04/07: London-in-a-Day

Into my second day in the UK, and we decided to do a quick tour of London. Having spent almost every working day in London, Steve knew the place like the back of his hand. Not only that, he knew about the place. All the history, all the notes, he could tell you all about it. Now, this blog isn’t meant to be a history book. If you want the details, Wikipedia it here.

We figured that I’d be seeing more of London and writing more about it when I actually move up here for my uni stuff, but until then, check out my London-in-a-day photos. To be honest, I didn’t find London particularly spectacular, interesting or distinctive; but it was very special nonetheless; and completely rash-free.

07/04/07 – 08/04/07: The trip out, White Cliffs of Dover & Deale Beach

I’d organized a YHA card, bought along my sleeping bag and splurged on a silk liner to rough it out in notoriously rat-infested, over-crowded, noisy, squeezy, smelly youth hostels when I arrived in London. But then came Steve. I’m thinking Steve comes close to my Cortizone cream. Steve came along with these emails saying ‘No no! You’ll come stay at my place! I’ll pick you up at the airport!’ and so on. So I basically landed – four hours late mind you! – with my own chauffeur, a personal chef, housekeeper, secretary, tour-guide, cleaner, and of course, friend.

The flight out was relatively uneventful: I was supposed to stop-over in Singapore for about 3 or 4 hours, and Chris had equipped me with a complimentary Qantas Club card so I could spend those hours in style. But the plane out from Perth was delayed because the wheels had come off and needed to be put back on, so as soon as I landed in Singapore it was straight onto the plane for England. I slept as soon as I sat down, and work up some time later. Someone had put food in front of me while I was asleep and I thought ‘Gee I wonder how long I was out for’; looked out the window and saw that we actually hadn’t even left yet. Apparently some guy hadn’t turned up so they were waiting for him. Then he did turn up, and they had to put his luggage away, but then they couldn’t get the door to shut, and they had to get someone out to fix the door. So we were really, really late.

I had the window seat, and there was a guy sitting next to me having a hard time with his TV and controls. He was so upset it wasn’t working and the steward came round and said that he’ll be given a duty free voucher because he got the busted TV. Anyway, the guy was so upset, and from the way he was talking, I thought that perhaps he was a little developmentally delayed and had a resulting speech impediment or something, so I offered to swap seats with him since I’ll be sleeping most of the way anyway. Turned out there was nothing wrong with the guy. He just had a really thick Irish accent.

And he kept my window seat the whole time – AND he kept the duty free voucher too! I suggested he buy the $40 portable shaver, which he did, and was very pleased with it too. But I couldn’t help feeling that maybe, just maybe, I should have gotten that shaver…

But enough about that. More about England. Arrived late. Luckily Steve was still there, all charms and suave as ever. We drove back to his place past idyllic pastures and green rolling meadows to Ashford in Kent. Steve lives in a very quaint little house in a lovely estate. All the new houses are built in the style of the traditional houses here. Some of them even had what’s called ‘Kent-peg-tiles’ as features on their façade. I may have some photos of Kent-peg-tiled houses. If I don’t, I’ll be taking some photos of original peg-tiled houses at a later stage I’m sure. The tiles don’t go only on the roof, they go on the walls. The tiles are made with local clay, and have two holes in them, and are literally just hung on wooden pegs in the wall. It was a system developed ages ago, but endemic to the Kent region.

A big part of Kent sits in a massive syncline with clay soil, and is bordered on both sides by chalk hills that they call the ‘downs’. To be honest, I’m going to have to find out whether the down bit is called the downs or whether it’s the up bits. Meanwhile, the chalk can be seen poking out from under the covering vegetation.. The water here is therefore quite hard. Driving around the area, you can pick out certain buildings that date from Georgian, to Victorian to Tudor all the way to one or two churches which go all the way back to Norman times.

Steve had decided that a good introduction to the area might be to drive down to Dover, one of the Cinque Ports (pronounced ‘sang ports’) and check out the white cliffs. A fantastic way to spend the first day. The weather was perfectly sublime and being a very high air-traffic region, the sky was just cris-crossed with contrails that then meld together to form webs of cirrostratus clouds. If the air was still enough, it would look pretty amazing. I couldn’t get shots of the cris-crossing because my camera is obviously not designed for such wide-angled shots.

On the way down there, we stopped by several other little towns like ‘River’ and ‘Crabble’. I had to ring Steve and ask him for the names! Steve was a fantastic wealth of knowledge on the local flora and fauna (Latin nomenclature of most plant, bird and fungi species included in this walking-talking guide). There were moorhens and coots and a quaint mill, and everyone was out and about because of the Easter weekend.

Meanwhile, from the white cliffs, you can apparently see clear to a church steeple in France somewhere. I’ve forgotten the name. This is why I need to write things down. But the day was a little hazy despite the blue skies. It was quite lovely really. People walking their dogs, just enjoying the sea air and shuffling through the grass… Mmmmmmm. Devine.

You’ll see from the photos the castle that sits atop the cliffs of Dover; put there by some King from the past. To ensure accuracy in my notes, those who are interested in the history and facts can click here: Kent.

We drove across to Deale after Dover, and walked along the beach and down the pier. The houses that line the beach front of Deale were obviously holiday houses of the better-off from Victorian era I think. Steve will correct me if I’m wrong. Cute little place. There is also a castle in Deale complete with a fort. For more information, click here: Deale Castle.

Well worth the rash I got on my belly from the buckle of my belt. As many of you would know, I’m highly allergic to most metals. And I was just starting to get over that last bout too! Thank goodness I brought along that tube of Cortizone (I never wear belts. But decided to wear one not so much to hold my pants up, but as a means of taking one across with me without incurring the weight on my luggage. So much for that idea. Now I’ve brought along a belt I can’t wear!).

31/03/07 – 01/04/07: Weano Gorge, Hancock Gorge & Junction Pool

This last weekend in Newman was the highlight of my time there. We started on the trip relatively late in the day, and actually stopped by a local water-hole before as well: Wunnamunna. A little pedestrian in comparison to a lot of other places I suppose, but I’ve taken some pictures nonetheless. Have a look. Most of the water had dried up, and there are some Aboriginal carvings on the rocks, but they’re not particularly impressive. It’s hard to tell how old or genuine they are as well. Have a look at the pictures.

Meanwhile, it didn’t take us as long to get to Karajini this time, as we needed to cut into the national park from the southern end to get to where we wanted to be anyway. There were several gorges in the area: Knox Gorge, Weano Gorge, Oxley Gorge and Hancock Gorge. They meet up at a point called Junction Pool. We scouted around the top of the gorges for a while before climbing down to Weano Gorge.

It’s one of those places that you have to see for yourself. There are certain areas that are easy to get to, and others that aren’t quite so easy. Basically what you have is a big, massive area of rock, which over time, gets cut through by a river of water. Millions of years later, the river has cut deeper and deeper into the massive area of rock, forming a gorge. What we did was climbed down the gorge face at one point and followed the trail of the river. This part was a little easier to climb I must admit, because the cliff-faces were still the red, jaggedy sort that allowed you to get a hand-hold or toe-hold. We did this until we had to head back because of the oncoming dusk.

We made camp off a track somewhere where there was basically nothing but Spinifex and rocks around us. Obviously others had camped there before, judging by the charred patches on the ground; but there was virtually nothing to use for firewood. Good this we’d brought a gas stove along. And good thing there were a couple of mozzie coils in the car too.

On Sunday morning, we headed back to the pathway that would lead us through Hancock gorge and finally into Junction Pool. Abso-bloomin’-lutely amazing stuff. I’m not quite sure how to put it all into words to be honest. Unlike the first bits of Weano that we had climbed down the day before, the further down we went, the rock strata changed significantly. No longer was it red, rough and jagged; instead it was incredibly smooth – like stones you find in river-beds sort of smooth – and didn’t allow one anything decent to hold onto. In fact, it was incredibly slippery, such that at most points, it was easier to just jump off the rocks and swim. Some parts of the gorge were incredibly wide – like where we stopped for a picnic lunch. Other parts were less than a metre across. See the photos. Then there were parts where you couldn’t actually climb down – you had to just jump off a waterfall into the pool below. Which turned out to be surprisingly shallow. And it turned out the waterfall wasn’t that far up either. But I couldn’t tell that from where I was standing – all I could see were rocks below me. Took me ages to jump. Even longer to climb back up again!

But made it to the end eventually. Despite the sheer beauty of the whole place, we didn’t actually end up staying too long at Junction Pool. Guess it was one of those ‘not-the-destination-but-the-journey’ sort of scenarios because it was going to take us a little while to get back again and we were both starving. I guess we didn’t actually realize just how onerous the entire trek / hike / climb thing was because we had to pull over half way home and take a nap, neither of us in any conscious state to drive.

As an aside, the air-conditioning system in Ash’s car had previously been called ‘temperamental’. Here’s what I mean: as I drove us home, it started snowing. I’m deadly serious! Somehow, it got itself so cold, that fluffy, white, icy flakes of snow were blowing out from the air-conditioning vents. Talk about weird!

As a second aside, there must have been something in those 40million year old waterholes because both of us found odd lumps and bumps on us a few days later that we’d never seen before. Didn’t seem to suffer any ill effects from them though.

The pictures do not do this experience justice at all; but check them out anyway. Well worth the cuts, scratches, scrapes, bruises, rash and weird puffy-abscess-looking bites that turned up on my arms, chest and legs the next day. In the words of one of the students: ‘Gwad miss! What HAPPENED to you?!’

28/03/07: Opthalmia Dam

Mike, the aforementioned principal, had expressed an interest in going kayaking at the dam, which worked out well since Ash was keen to show off this new free-camping (that is, not legal camping) spot. We borrowed a two-person kayak and Mike was more than happy to paddle the whole way while I sat and drank in the serenity.

I think the dam is actually owned by BHP. They use it to store the water that has been pumped out of the mine, and recycle it back for town use. Despite the constant pumping though, the water levels was still ridiculously low. The whole place itself is quite errie: leafless, dead trunks poke out from the motionless water, birds of prey circling above, cormorants and those other long-necked things (I’m obviously no ornithologist) cast silhouettes against the blue sky, biological waste from the grazing and feral cattle in the surrounding areas defiling the otherwise clean water… mmmm.

There were so many different bird species there. I even saw a nest of hatchlings, but wasn’t able to get a clear shot.

I didn’t bother paddling as Mike seemed keen to let out some pent-up energy on something. So I took photos instead. If I can get the video clip up, you’ll see that we were actually going at a fairly decent speed. One of those places that makes you think of that ‘Deliverance’ movie. Even though I’ve never seen it, and don’t actually have any intention of seeing it, that’s what I picture the river scene to be like if it was shot here.

Even though all three of us could have happily paddled on for some time, we had to turn around and head back to the car before the mosquitoes came out because the OHS report issued by BHP had detailed that 9 of the 11 sentinel chickens at the dam had tested positive for Ross River Virus. Which makes me wonder why we’d want to go camping there.

But guess what? No rash!

27/03/07: The track to Radio Hill

Today I took a bike ride along the dry riverbed that ran along the bottom of Radio Hill. It was reminiscent of the BMX days of yore, when we would ride our Mongooses up and down dusty dirt tracks behind Eram Road before the Eastern Freeway was built. This was different though in that there was no dirt here. Only rocks. Red, red, rocks. Big chunky red rocks and smaller chunky red rocks.

It was good to get out on a bike again. We dumped the bikes behind some shrubs and walked the rest of the way. Ash was going to take me on a track up Radio Hill but the Spinifex stopped us.

The sunset was nothing like I had ever seen before – it was fluorescent yellow. It was the most incredibly ethereal glow that washed over the surrounds like someone upstairs had switched on some party night-light. The gums reflected these shades of highlighter yellow while accenting the tangerines and ochre in the surrounding rocks. I’d seen some pretty amazing sunsets in central Australia, but this was awe-inspiringly spectacular. Even if I had brought along a camera, I doubt that I would have been able to capture the true depth of the sheer brilliance of the luminosity.

No photos from this un-planned trip.

17/03/07 – 18/03/07: Kalgan’s Pool

Kalgan’s Pool was supposed to be one big, massive, the-more-the-merrier trip consisting of a convoy of several cars and numerous staff members from the school. Thanks to the two cyclones that went past the town the week before, we were getting some rain, which meant that the roads may have been too muddy for driving. Sitting in the staffroom for Friday drinks, the general consensus was to use up our camping consumables that very night with a barbeque at Brennan’s. Said Brennan was actually away somewhere with his partner, leaving his house free for a night of frivolity. Which of course, meant that the next morning, most of the happy campers were too happy to go camping. Their loss, for it was incredible. Check out the photos.

The camping party ended up being the principal and his family in one car, Ash, Sun, Daniel, Chelsea and I in the other. Kalgan’s Pool is actually the site of the suicide scene (sorry for the giveaway) from the movie Japanese Story. I think the water level was a little higher in the movie though. The drive to Kalgan’s was not very long, and we drove through what Ash calls ‘Mini Mars’ since it was what Mars must look like. It was a lot like Cooper Pedy in that it looked like something out of a science-fiction movie with little to show for any forms of life, and yet you just knew that beneath the parched and barren façade, the environment was heaving with energy. In contrast to the northern parts of South Australia though, and even most of the parts of Central Australia that I’ve seen, this area was a lot more red and rocky and less dusty. Although this could be due to the rain having dampen the ground somewhat. The rocks weren’t boulder-like at all in their shapes, more like chips or shards of splintered rocks. Occasionally, there’d be a small tree sticking out of the ground, but it would usually be the blackened remains of the trunk and some branches.

We made camp right by the pool. Mike, the principal, who was renowned for his penchant for fires, had brought along his chainsaw in case we needed more firewood. By the time we arrived, he had already set up camp and was in the pool with a glass of red in one hand, and his wife in the other. The kids were frolicking as kids do. Cute little things they were too.

Daniel, who was ECU trained, was originally an Engineer from Africa, and had not been camping like this before. I think a great deal of what I enjoyed from this trip was watching his reaction to such new experiences as pitching a tent and sleeping in a swag under the stars. Check out the smile on his face in the photo of him in the water and tell me it’s not infectious.

Ash had brought along his abseiling gear and after a quick dip in the pool (the water was quite icky to say the least) and setting up the tents, he had climbed up the gorge to set up the ropes before zipping down to try it out. Then it was my turn. The cliff is between 60-70 metres above the ground, depending on where you jump off from I guess. Kinda scary at first, then exhilarating. Not bad for a first-time challenge though I thought. My brake-rope (the prussic knot) got stuck at one point. But all in all, a decent first go.

Mike made some incredible Thai chilli chicken thing for dinner and the weather was just right.

The next day, Mike and his family drove off quite early on; and Sun and Daniel both had a shot going down the rope while I packed up camp. It was fun to watch (the others abseiling that is, not me packing up camp). I climbed up to the top again while they were still going, and sat on the top of the gorge some distance away and just had some alone, meditative time. One could easily imagine being the only living person left in the world sitting atop the world like that. It’s all quite awe-inspiring. Wasn’t quite sure how long I sat up there just looking out, but there was a part of me that wanted to share the moment with everyone, and another part that just wanted to keep it to myself.

Before we left, I abseiled down again. On my own, this time. Only the prussic knot got stuck again. I couldn’t seem to pull myself up to loosen it, having no foothold and not knowing how to loop the rope around my foot to make one; so Ash ended up climbing down the cliff-face as far as he could go without falling to his death or at least neck-down-paralysis, and dropping down a short rope which I attached to my harness, then pulling me up to give my rope enough slack to loosen the knot. Grateful though I was, I couldn’t help thinking that about that fine line between courage and stupidity.

By afternoon, I was surprisingly exhausted. We left but dropped by Opthlamia dam on the way; partly to show Daniel and Sun the place, and partly because during his last two trips there, Ash had discovered a track to get to a spot suitable for camping on which he wanted to check out again. In trying to find this track, we stumbled across one of the giant water pipes pumping enormous amounts of water out onto the ground, which then flowed through the grasses and shrubs, probably back to the dam. Over time, this had obviously caused somewhat of a dip in the ground, and made a shallow, bubbly spa due to the high pressure of water being pumped out. Ash rang a friend to find out what it was, and revealed after the conversation that it was water pumped out from the mine and should just get soaked back into the dam. Being such clear and clean fresh water, we all jumped in for a quick wash and a back massage from the pressure before heading home.

Well worth the bruises and the excruciating rash that I’m sure I got from the Spinifex that covered my legs the next day. I’d just recovered from the last lot too damn it. Thank goodness for Cortizone.

12/03/2007: Radio Hill

Radio Hill is so called for the fact that the radio tower sits atop it. Some of you may have already heard of my first trip to Radio Hill. For those of you who didn’t, here’s the email which was sent:

It has been well documented that humans, like other social animals, learn from their mistakes. So it is reasonable to assume, that after the Nullabor trip, where this happened:

Me: Uh… Chris, shouldn’t we have a spare tyre on your trailer?
Chris: Why? We’ve just bought it. It’s brand new!
Me: What about my trailer? Shouldn’t we have a spare tyre on mine?
Chris: Nah! This ol’ girl’s been in the family for years! Never let us down before.
Me: Uh… okay.

Two days later…

[Scene: Middle of nowhere. Literally. Me, two dogs, two trailers, one busted up Volvo, and no wheels. Chris driven off to find help. Me not knowing when and how he’ll get back. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting]

… that one would learn a lesson.

Apparently not.

Yesterday…

[Scene: Terrence and Ash’s place. After dinner. Three of us and the dog lounging in the lounge listening to Jose Gonzales crooning out mellow tunes. It’s about 10.30pm at night]

Ash: Hey let’s all go up to Radio Hill. Terrence?
Terrence: [stoned] uuuhhnnnn. Naaaaaah… mgunnabed…
Ash: Tania? Wanna go up to Radio Hill?
Me: It’s late, it’s dark, I haven’t got any proper shoes on and I don’t want to get bitten by mozzies. So… maybe some other time.
Ash: We’re not even going to get out of the car! It’s just up there! We’ll just drive up, check out the view and drive back down. We’ll be in the car the whole time. You don’t need shoes. You won’t get bitten by mozzies.
Me: [sigh] okay.
Ash: [excited] cool!

Maybe 10 minutes later, having driving through a 4WD track in the dark. At the very top of radio hill. Imagine your typical cliff edge with the one pointy bit that sticks out. Ash has pulled the car to a stop at the very, very tip of the edge. It’s pitch black. All you can see are the dots of light from the town below. Clouds from the previous week’s cyclone still covering the sky, blanketing any trace of starlight or moonlight.

Me: Gee, this is nice…
[Ash leans over and rummages through the glove box]
Me: What you looking for?
[Ash pulls out the ammeter or some such device]
Ash: I think the alternators’ dead. You gotta torch?
Me: [Sigh] I got my mobile.
Ash: We’ll use that.

[He pops the hood and we both get out of the car to look under the bonnet. I’ve got these dress thongs on that are, no kidding, two bits of cardboard with strings for the straps. There are rocks and boulders underfoot that can’t be seen, but boy can you feel it when you stub your toes on them. There’s Spinifex everywhere. For those of you who don’t know, Spinifex is painful. Damn bloody painful. Stay clear of the Spinifex! (Well, it’s called Spinifex, but is actually Tussock, but that’s all semantics)]

Me: What’s wrong with it?
Ash: The bumpy track must’ve made one of these cables fallen out.
Me: Uh… can you fix it?
Ash: I think we need to push start the car.
Me: [Sigh] Okay. I’ll push, you steer. I can’t see in the dark.
Ash: Okay.

Keep in mind, the car is facing the cliff at the end of the road. We had to somehow push the car into a 3-point turn so that it faced down the hill we’d just come up from. Me, in these cardboard thongs, stumbling over the rocks, getting pricked by the Spinifex while pushing this Subaru 4WD.

Managed to get the car facing the right way, getting bitten by bugs and ants and stuff. Ash is in the car, we’re rolling down the hill, I’m yelling at the dog to get into the car. Ash is yelling at me to get into the car, the dog jumps in, the car’s going faster down this hill, I quickly jump in through the window with my legs sticking out of the car, I lose a thong and the car grounds to a stop. It is a 4WD track after all. It goes up and down.

Me: [looking for the lost thong] Now what? I’m not pushing you AND the car AND the dog up that hill.
Ash: We’ll walk back. It’s not far.
Me: Not gonna get out of the car huh? Don’t need shoes huh? No mozzies huh? [Grumble grumble grumble…]

We walk back to Ash and Terrence’s house. Terrence is in bed. We get his keys from the key hook by the door and get into his car. Ash tries to start the car. It makes that noise. You know, that nee-nee-nee-nee-nee noise that says ‘I’m not going anywhere’.
Ash: You know that movie ET?
Me: uh… yeah?
Ash: you know how ET and Elliott are connected?
Me: uh…
Ash: So when Elliott gets sick, then ET gets sick?
Me: uh… yeah?
Ash: My car and Terrence’s car are like Elliott and ET.
Me: [trying hard not to bash my head against the dashboard] o-kay…

Finally get the car started, drive back up the hill to find the other car. Jump start the cars, the headlights have caused swarms of flying insects to surround us. I’m talking, swarms. You can’t breath because they’ll fly up your nose. It’s going into my ears, into my mouth etc. Get the cars going, drive back to the boys’ place, get driven home, got to bed. Thank goodness.

Due to the nature of the outing (late at night, unexpected and dark), no photos were taken.

03/03/07 – 04/03/07: Karajini, Tom Price & Fern Pool

I have decided to back-blog some of my entries, because let’s face it: my travels really started in Newman. And why shouldn't I? Check out the picture! Actually, my adventures started on the drive across the Nullabor, but there’s enough material there to write a book with (which will be coming soon!) so I won’t blog that here just yet. So here we go: Fern Pool.

For me, it’s natural wonders that make me go ‘wow’. You know how every now and again, you get a benchmark by which you measure certain events in your life? (Like how my worst travel-sick experience was after having had curry chicken at Cameron Highlands in Malaysia before being driven round and round and round and round down the mountain… It was the meal that kept on giving… But anyway. I was probably 6 or 7 at the time. That WAS the benchmark for travel-sickness for me for. It stayed the benchmark for close to 20 years. Until Cairn. But this entry is not about Cairns. You’ll have to ask Chris about that sometime. He was the one who had to smell it. He and the other 90 odd people on that ferry). Well, Karajini became my new natural wonders benchmark.

On the Friday of my first week in Newman, I met Ash at the department dinner. We got along quite superbly, and he invited me along to a camping trip which he and several other staff were taking the next day. We convoyed in four cars to Karajini National Park from Newman, two cars having started earlier and arriving about 2 hours earlier. Ash’s car suffered a flat tyre on the way, which he very efficiently repaired. And but for the heat – and the cold! – thanks to his car’s temperamental air-conditioning system, we arrived relatively unscathed. We only had time to take a quick dip in the pool before driving off to make camp on the border of the National Park (don’t have to pay camping fees that way!). But my goodness it was nice. Check out the photos in the photo album. There were multiple layers of small waterfalls leading into separate rock-pools before flowing into a river that cut its way through a gorge. Absolutely magnificent.

You can see from the pictures how many various strata there are in the gorge wall. Even if it was a single layer of sediment laid down every year, you’d still not be able to count them all. And take note of the anticlines and synclines – how much pressure and heat would have been needed to squeeze THAT together! Also, check out the change in rock type from the deep ochre red to purple slate. In one of the pictures, you’ll see a whole flow of slate-type rock, suggesting that a volcano must have erupted at some point further up, and that lava had flowed down and solidified.

While everyone was having breakfast, Ash decided to lever off his punctured tyre from its rim to squeeze in an inner-tube from his previous car. The inner-tube came from a Hilux, and he had a Subaru. But you know how boys think: If it doesn’t fit – make it. In any event, his efforts saw the tyre-lever puncturing the inner-tube.

We returned to the pools the next morning for exploring and swimming. A great time was had before the rest of the party decided to head home. Ash was very reluctant to travel without a spare tyre, so while everyone headed home to Newman, we decided to head towards Tom Price to repair the punctured tyre instead. It was a slim chance, being a Sunday; but worth a try nonetheless.

So we pulled up at the only petrol station in Tom Price, which had a nice big garage annexed to it with two massive, bright, shiny roller doors and words like ‘Bridgestone’ and ‘Yokohama’ printed in big, bright, shiny letters across the top. ‘Even if they were shut, perhaps they could make an exception?’ Ash thought out loud. ‘Of course they might!’ I replied. It’s a small country town. People do things like that. And they would have, I’m sure. If the garage was still in operation. Which it wasn’t. So he asked the lady at the counter if she knew where he may be able to get his tyre fixed, and she gave directions to the industrial area of Tom Price: ‘take a left, then another left, then another left…’ to which I replied ‘that’ll get us back to where we started!’.

Luckily, the road curved, and we did find the industrial area. It was obviously shut, so we went out the back to the connecting house, knocked on all the doors – and there was obviously people inside because there were – no kidding – 6 cars in the driveway and the air conditioner was on. Ash rang the numbers on all the trucks, left messages, but to no avail. So eventually, we had to drive off. As we pulled away, Ash noticed a pile of tyres by the dumpster at the front. We figured that they wouldn’t put a brand new tyre out by the dumpster, but it seemed too good to be true: there amongst that pile of bald, busted and bunged-up tyres was one that was not only the right size for the Subaru, but was also in very good nick! Ash noted that a valve was needed, so we returned to the gas station to see if they had any. They didn’t, but suggested we try the hardware store. So we drove to the hardware store, which was, luckily, still open. Bought the valve and went and found a shady spot under a tree by the shopping centre, where Ash proceeded to lever off the punctured tyre from its rim while inflating the inner-tube with his air-compressor. In my attempt to be useful, I snap the valve in two. Thank goodness it came in a pack of two. In his attempt to be impressive, Ash gouges the edge of the tyre with the lever. Nonetheless, with style to rival McGyver himself, the man manages to get the old tyre off its rim and the new permanently-borrowed tyre onto the rim with nothing more than two metal poles, a bottle of olive oil and a nice thwack with said metal pole across my left shin.

So we returned to the petrol station to pump up the tyre. Found that we couldn’t because the pin which stopped the air from coming out of the valve was also stopping the air from going into the valve. Back to the hardware store to find a something-or-other to fix it (ask Ash, I can’t remember what it’s called). Couldn’t find it there, but a guy at the counter heard Ash asking questions about it, and said he had one at home. So we followed this guy back to his house, he took us to his shed, went to a little drawer and took out the something-or-other and we headed back to the petrol station to fix the problem. Took a while, but Ash does his thing and we try to pump up the tyre again. Whatever it was he did, it worked, because the air was going in fine. It was also coming out fine. From the bit that was gouged out, and from the reason why the tyre was dumped out with the rest of the garbage in the first place.

So! BACK to the hardware store for a puncture repair kit. Then BACK to the petrol station to fix the holes. FINALLY get the wheel done and we were on the road again. Rather than heading straight home, Ash suggested we visit Fern Pool, which is actually in Karajini as well. And it was a good thing we did, because it was amazing. Check out the photos.

The first bit was a little slimy, so we walked through some bushy bits where there were bats and bamboos would you believe. The water was an amazing shade of turquoise and it was at the perfect temperature. There was nothing more relaxing than floating on my back, surrounded by nature and no one else, looking up at this perfectly blue sky – I was starring in my own Radox commercial. I tried to get a ‘nature’s massage’ under the waterfall, but it was beating my contacts out of my eyes, so I’ve taken some photos of Ash doing it instead. Swam around with the fishies until some men yelled out that a storm was coming and we’d get trapped in a flash-flood if we didn’t get out of there quick. And that was my first trip to Karajini, Tom Price and Fern Pool. Well worth the horrendous rash I caught from something there that covered both my legs the day after.

Welcome All!

Hello People.
Instead of writing countless emails, snail-mails and post cards that go on forever, I've decided to blog my travel experiences instead. You can come and check it out if you want. I'm going to leave the personal stuff out of it as much as I can and keep it focused on the travel side of things. Now, starting off, the posts will look funny as the first few happened some weeks ago. But I'm going to put them all up anyway because you can't read them if they're in my head.
Enjoy!
T