Australia

An Oasis in the Desert – Boodjamulla National Park

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lawn hill NP

Situated in the Gulf Savannah country of northern Australia, with its deep gorges and craggy rocky outcrops, is the rugged and spectacularly beautiful Boodjamulla National Park…

 

This is an ancient, sunburnt land, and archaeological evidence suggests the area has been continuously occupied for at least 30,000-years, possibly longer than anywhere else in Australia.

 

The attraction is the permanent water source of Lawn Hill Creek. During arid times, when other sites where abandoned, this area was like an oasis in the desert for aboriginal people, Australia’s first people, who gathered here to camp, fish, and hunt.

Janet, TomO, and I have explored this region previously, but it has drawn us back like a magnet on many occasions, and being in North Queensland I could not resist the lure of another visit, to walk through the country and swim in Lawn Hill Creek.

In the Dreamtime stories of the Waanyi people, “Boodjamulla” is a spiritual person, the creator of all animals.

In the words of the Waanyi people…

“He made all the animals in the Lawn Hill area, and all the billabongs such as the green swamp, and all the bush tucker. Boodjamulla’s dreamtime travels started in Waanyi country at Cabbage Tree Spring, up above Riversleigh, giving water to O’Shanassy Creek, Lawn Hill Creek, the Gregory River, Louie Creek and Lilydale Springs.

Waanyi believe that Boodjamulla created these rivers as healing waters – known in Waanyi language as Bougli Water”…

Perhaps for the Waanyi people, the “Bougli Waters” has a different interpretation, but I certainly found the cool spring fed water of Lawn Hill Creek soothing after a day of walking in the gorges and climbing the Constance Range.

As a base for this trip I stayed just outside of the national park at Adels Grove, a private campground that we first visited in the early 1990s. Not much has changed over the years, and that is a good thing.

Adels Grove was declared a ’Miner’s Homestead Perpetual Lease’ in 1920, being within the Burketown Mineral Field at that time.

According to the history provided by the current owners, Adels Grove lease was purchased by Albert De Lestang, a French botanist, who experimented with the growing of tropical trees and fruits and had in excess of 1,000 trees and sold the fruit to supplement his income.

Lawn Hill

Tragically, in the early 1950s the ‘Grove’ and buildings were accidently burnt down. By this time Albert was in his seventies and after loosing everything, including all of his written records, he succumbed to depression and died age 75 at Charters Towers in 1959.

‘The Grove’ has certainly provided shade and comfort from the heat of the winter sun during my stay, with temperatures reaching up to 36 degrees throughout the day and around 15 degrees at night…

Apart from the rugged and rocky outcrops surrounding the gorge, the country has a prolific amount of wildlife. This includes the Johnstone’s crocodile or Freshie as it is usually known, turtles, the olive python, a large variety of birds, and a favourite of ours, the Gilbert Dragon, or Ta-Ta lizard due to the peculiar little wave it gives with its front legs before scampering away.

I managed to photograph some of the wildlife on my walks and at other times, simply sat back and enjoyed the calls of the birds flittering through the trees, and of the birds of prey soaring overhead.

And yes, I did swim with the Freshwater Crocs. Unlike their Saltwater cousins, the Freshie’s are generally timid and will leave you alone, if you stay out of their way…!

Boodjamulla National Park, truly an Oasis in the Desert in Australia’s Gulf Savannah.

Photos: Baz – The Landy, in the Gulf Savannah, Northern Australia…Hinchinbrook Island

 

 

 

 

Australian Wildlife – Encounters in the bush

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Photo’s: Baz – The Landy, Gulf Country, Northern Australia Hinchinbrook Island

A Classic Country Pub (With cold beer)

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You’ve got to love a classic Australian Pub, and this one situated in Malanda on the Atherton Tablelands, inland from Cairns, is one of the best…

And hey, take my word for it…!

I worked in Malanda in the late 1970s and lived in this very pub.

Today, I had my first meal in the Malanda Hotel in almost 40-years and I am pleased it is still owned by the same people, the English family, and it is as grand as I always remember it. And how good is that silky-oak timber.

Um, yeah, a touch of reminiscing going on here…!

But hey, the past is what makes up the mosaic of whom we are today, right…!

Cheers, Baz – The Landy, in Far North Queensland…

 

Mysterious Hinchinbrook Island – A Jewel in the Coral Sea

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Hinchinbrook Island

 Nestled in the Coral Sea just off the coast of Cardwell in Far North Queensland is the wonderfully mysterious Hinchinbrook Island…

Wonderfully mysterious is perhaps an odd way to describe Hinchinbrook, but as a kid growing up in the region I always remember thinking of it in this way as we stopped at the local ‘pie cart’ on the foreshore. A delightful feature of Cardwell that I am pleased to say is still the case today.

Pie-Man

Across the water, the island’s tall peaks stand proudly, densely covered in tropical rainforest and often shrouded in cloud, giving it a mysterious look. A somewhat enticing look that always excited me as a place made of a ‘boy’s own adventure’ and I daydreamed of what I would find as I devoured my pie.  And if I was lucky, another.

They say it is never too late and as I stood on the Cardwell Esplanade this week, eating a pie from the pie-man, I looked out across the Hinchinbrook Passage to that mysterious island with the eyes of a young boy. Excited no less than I was all those years ago I contemplated the walk along the Thorsborne Trail on the eastern seaboard of the island that I was about to embark on.

Would I find my boy’s own adventure?

Whilst I am a frequent hiker in the bush and mountains it has been a while since I last strapped on my hiking pack and my fitness levels were showing it, especially after just spending a month in Scotland and England enjoying cream teas and the odd one, or too many, pints of bitter, despite it being warm. Both the beer and the weather!

It is fair to say the waist strap was slightly more extended than usual, but a few days hiking would go some way to sorting that out…

Hinchinbrook Island

Eagerly, I boarded a small boat that would ferry myself and some other hikers to the island. And under overcast skies we headed towards our drop-off point at Ramsay Bay, situated on the northern part of the island, but not quite at the tip.

We were hopeful of seeing a dugong, sea calf as they are frequently described as we made our way across the shallow passage. Over the past couple of years they have been returning to the area in growing numbers as their natural habitat and food source recovers following the devastating destruction Cyclone Yasi caused in 2011.

Unfortunately, we would not be so lucky to make a sighting on this day.

It is a pleasant boat ride and the skipper, Dean, was keen to point out many of the different landmarks and islands in the area, but before long I was strapping on my pack and walking south on this fantastic adventure.

A comfortable hiking time is four-days and three nights, with camps set at distances sufficient to challenge, but with plenty of time to enjoy the scenery.

My first day was spent hiking from Ramsay Bay, through Nina Bay and an overnight camp at Little Ramsay Bay, which is nestled in the rainforest just behind the beach next to a small lagoon. Before passing Nina Bay I climbed to the top of Nina Peak, a must-do for any visitor to the island. Sitting at the top you get a great sense of the magnitude of the island and a better glimpse of those mountaintops shrouded in cloud and mist.

For this hike I decided to travel light and used a simple bivvy bag and lightweight tarp to shelter from the elements, especially the sandflies that inhabit the island. Whilst a small insect it shows no discrimination in its choice of victim.

The ‘Hinchinbrook Hilton’ as I called my sleeping arrangements served me well and did the job perfectly.

Thorsborne Trail

I also kept meals simple, as I usually do on these types of hikes, dining on a ration of French onion soup and beef jerky, supplemented with dried apricots and mango, and a favourite hiking delicacy of mine, smoked hickory almonds.

There was little risk of me starving and besides I had built up a decent layer of body fat after a few months of inactivity, much like a bear about to go into hibernation!

Water was generally accessible throughout the hike and whilst carrying water-purifying tablets I didn’t feel the need to use them all the time, but assessed it depending where I was getting the water. And hey, it is nice to get some fresh, unadulterated drinking water from streams whose origins are in the mountains.

And of course, speaking of water it is sensible to keep in mind that this is crocodile country and they are known to inhabit the island, something I was extremely conscious of as I heard the water lapping onto the beach not far from the ‘Hinchinbrook Hilton’ on my second night at Zoe Bay.

Departure from my first night’s camp on day two was delayed slightly as the National Parks Rangers’ had closed the track between Little Ramsay Bay and Zoe Bay the previous day due a ‘cool burn’ they were conducting of undergrowth nearby to the walking track. I was aware of this in the week leading up to the hike and after they did a quick reconnaissance of the area they reopened the track mid-morning as planned.

The burn had little impact on the walk from Little Ramsay Bay to Zoe Bay.

Leaving Little Ramsay I had to do some rock hopping around the southern end of the beach leading to another beach around the headland before heading into the bush. The track takes you through a number of vegetation types, including dry open forest, rainforest and mangrove swamps and many creek crossings. At times of heavy rain the swamplands and creek crossings would become more challenging.

Continuing south towards Zoe Bay my path took me through a number of palm swamps in tall rainforest between North Zoe Creek and Fan Palm Creek, an area I was able to view earlier on one of the many headlands that I had ascended.

Thorsborne Trail

Eventually I found myself on the sands at Zoe Beach and I made way towards the camp situated near the mouth of South Zoe Creek. And let me say, the creek looked inviting, but there were plenty of ‘croc’ warning signs to indicate swimming here would be a mugs game. Mind you, it was only a short walk up the creek to Zoe Falls, where I enjoyed a refreshing couple of hours swimming in the pristine waters…

I shared the night here with a number of other hiker’s enjoying a meal and the camaraderie that is forged from a common interest. And a feature of these campsites is the metal boxes provided for food storage. The island has a large population of native rats and they are known to chew through your backpack to get to your food supply!

The smoke haze from the burn-off provided a spectacular sunset that evening and an equally spectacular sunrise the next morning. And whilst the ‘Hinchinbrook Hilton’ was serving me well, its size provides an incentive to get up and stretch the body early enough to witness sunrise, the start of another day in paradise…!

My third day of hiking started with a heart-pumping climb up behind Zoe Falls and on to some granite slabs above the falls where you get spectacular views of Zoe Bay. And a note to self, next time fill the water containers at the top of the falls rather than at the bottom!

After crossing numerous creeks on the ascent towards the trail’s highest point, which is 260 metres, I was rewarded with great views of the Palm Island Group of islands to the south. I have always marvelled at this island group sparkling in the Coral Sea.

Traversing a variety of terrain I eventually descended to Diamantina Creek where I sat back amongst the trees and listened to the calls of the many species of birds present on the island.

Crossing this creek needs to be done with care as the rocks and boulders can be slippery when wet, and if the water is high and running you would be wise to wait until it subsides. But with the water low I was across and only a short walk to my last camp on the island at Mulligan Falls.

I wasted little time in setting up the ‘Hinchinbrook Hilton’ in this rainforest setting before making a beeline for the refreshing waters of the falls. This is a beautiful spot to relax and with an early arrival at camp I made the most of it.

There is a restricted area above the falls where you are not permitted to enter due to the slippery nature of the boulders and rock pavements and deaths and serious injuries have occurred here. So it is wise to heed the advice.

But as I relaxed against a rock perfectly molded to the shape of my back I dozed in the warmth as my body tingled from the crystal clear water that washed away the sweat and grime of the day’s hike.  The only thing missing was a ‘Margarita’ to refresh the soul…!

And a word of warning, if there is one thing you don’t want to forget when visiting Hinchinbrook Island is some form of insect repellant, especially when camping in the midst of the rainforest. This was no more apparent than at Mulligan Falls.

The dawn was welcoming and whilst my sleep was restful when it came, at other times it was punctuated by the sounds of a ‘million mozzies’ serenading me and all wanting a piece of my flesh.

Such is life in the food chain, I guess…

The pick-up point for my boat ride back to Cardwell was at George Point and was timed to coincide with low tide to assist with the crossing of Mulligan Creek.

Situated on the southern tip of the island George Point overlooks the port of Lucinda and the extremely long jetty that transports sugar grown locally to cargo vessels.

Much of the morning’s walk was along the beach at Mulligan Bay and it was with just a touch of trepidation that I crossed Mulligan Creek where it opened to the sea. And not before I walked upstream for a 100 metres, or so, to see if there were any telltale crocodile slide marks on the banks…

Hinchinbrook Island

Fortunately for me the only ‘crocs’ present where the ones I was wearing on my feet. Not long after I crossed the creek I found myself humming the tune ‘Never Smile at a Crocodile’ which made me laugh at myself. Amusement can be very simple, all that is needed is a good sense of imagination, hey!

Before long I was sitting on the sand at George Point reflecting on my ‘boy’s own adventure’ through the eyes of an adult…

…And rest assured it was with no less enthusiasm and excitement than a young boy looking over to the ‘Mysterious Island’…

Hinchinbrook Island

Baz – The Landy, Hinchinbrook Island, Far North Queensland.

Steampunk meets Napoleon – on a World War 2 Battlefield…

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The sound of a shell fired from the World War 2 tank rang out across the field, the boom and compression of the explosion sending a shiver down the spine of all in proximity…

 Men in khaki and camouflage fatigues were hitting the ground to avoid the inevitable fall-out from the shrapnel, weapons at the ready as they lay silently waiting for the order to advance on the German line.

The rattle of machine gun fire ringing out from the bunkers and motorcycle side-cars was deafening as the Germans fought to protect their ground, shrouded for a time behind the white plume of smoke that was by now drifting across the battlefield.

Mind you, some of the soldiers ambushed on “patrol” were a about a quarter-of-a-century too late for the encounter given it was a mock battle between American and German World War 2 forces; the advance party were dressed and kitted out for the jungles of Vietnam…!

But hang-on, what are those Vikings doing on the battlefield?

Didn’t they have their run a few centuries ago marauding and pillaging their way across England?

And aren’t those fancy looking blokes dressed to the “nines” with the feather plumes on their headgear “Frenchies” from the days when Napoleon was barking out orders as he roamed the countryside looking for trouble?

The scene was unfolding at Ironfest 2017 in the Central Tablelands township of Lithgow.

Ironfest is an arts festival that explores the relationship between humans, metal and identity and is held annually at the Lithgow Showground. It brings together artists, designer-makers, blacksmiths, and performers of all kind, musicians, Steampunkers, as well as historical re-enactors and steam-machine enthusiasts from all over Australia…

TomO, the Crown Prince, is a member of Ausreenact, a non-political World War 2 living history organisation made up of members who share a common interest in history and militaria, with a particular focus on the uniforms, equipment and vehicles of the Allied and Axis forces in the period 1939-1945. He re-enacts as a member of the US Forces 2nd Armoured Division and has quite a collection of gear and equipment he has assembled from the era and which he proudly had on display in his “bunker” during the weekend.

Each year Ausreenact, along with a number of other military groups, including those dedicated to Napoleonic re-enactment and Knights from medieval times, are invited to attend and take part in the festival.

No wonder the “battle-ground” was chaotic…

Medieval swords flashed and clashed to the boom of Napoleonic guns that were challenging the armoured vehicles from more modern times.

When the Knights were not swinging their swords in battle they were charging at each other in a medieval jousting match.

And here I was thinking how macho I must look wielding the whipper-snipper with menacing precision each time I trim the moraya hedge at home. Strewth, talk about starting to feel just a tad inadequate.

So I’ll just move on…

Away from the “battlefields” there was the sound of iron striking iron on anvils as blacksmiths demonstrated their craft, beads of sweat rolling down their faces as they forged metal into works of art.

And hey, what about all those Steampunk people…?

Steampunk I hear you ask? I too had to look up the definition of a “Steampunker” and I am still not sure I have it right.

One of the best definitions for a Steampunker I have come across is from Jess Nevins, author of the Encyclopedia of Fantastic Victoriana (it hasn’t come up on my book club read list yet) who said…

“Steampunk is what happens when Goths discover brown.”

The costumes were as varied as the people that dressed in this fashion genre inspired by the Victorian era of steam and industrial machinery. I think it was the default costume for many who attended the festival.

But the Steampunkers seemed a happy bunch even if the women’s corsets appeared three sizes to small and their mode of transport was from another age if not simply strange…

Without doubt this weekend is possibly the two days of the year the various groups can safely come out from behind closed doors and still look normal; safety in numbers, so they say.

The activity was as diverse as it was frenzied, but somehow it all worked and integrated in a way that you would not think possible and I even got to take Janet-Planet on the cruise she has always wanted to do…

On the infamous “Love Boat”…

Photos: Baz – The Landy & Janet-Planet, Lithgow, Australia…

 

Nature’s Alarm Clock…

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Alarm Clock

 

The Kookaburra’s bush anthem rings out, typically at 4:30am every morning, but hey, what would Australia be without them..

Photo: Baz – The Landy, Out and About in the Australian Bush….

 

 

Wildflowers – In the Australian Bush

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After weeks of rain in Sydney, Baz and I managed to find a sunny day to walk through a favourite spot of ours in the Kuringai National Park in the northern suburbs of Sydney. The rain had washed the bush clean and the colours in this banksia were glorious!

 

Photo:  Janet Planet – Kuringai National Park, Sydney

 

Yes Sir, No Sir…how high Sir!

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It may will be a case of Yes Sir, No Sir, how high Sir, over the coming week.

As part of TomO’s school curriculum he does military cadets and is keen to advance to a full military career in the future and this coming week he is off to an army cadet camp at Singleton Army barracks in the Hunter Valley.

And this year I get to tag along and join in the adventure, although I suspect for me it will be peeling sacks of potatoes and onions to feed the “starving” cadets who will number approximately 330.

Mind you, a week in the bush is right up my alley and with a bit of luck I get to drive one of the army trucks and take a ride in a black-hawk helicopter – such is life in the “retired ranks”…

Speak to you in a week, Baz – The Landy

Photo’s: Janet-Planet

So Many Tears…

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Art has a wonderful ability to transport us to a place in our mind’s eye…

A place where we can explore the meaning the artist is endeavouring to convey and perhaps even challenging our own bias or prejudice.

Currently, there is an exhibition of wonderful sculptures, hand-crafted by talented artist’s of all backgrounds, in a picturesque harbourside park with sweeping views of the city and the iconic Sydney Harbour Bridge. We spent a morning wandering around Clarke Reserve at Woolwich, an old historic harbour suburb where the exhibition is being held, viewing and photographing the many artworks on display.

For us, one stood out…

 “So Many Tears” by Keith Chidzey”

In creating this work, Keith used two old wharf timbers and embedded glass tears into the wood.

It was simple, poignant, and a very moving tribute to the artist’s great-uncle, Private Ryles, who perished in the mud of Passchendaele, Belgium, over 100-years ago.

The choice of the wharf timbers is to recognise they most likely witnessed the embarkation of Australian Troops onto ships from the many wharfs dotted around the harbour. Loved ones waving, wiping away their tears as they strained to catch one more glimpse as the troop ship pulled away from the wooden dock.

 “We shall remember them…”

Each of the timbers has a carved relief, one of a slouch hat; the other with the inscription on Private Ryle’s headstone where he lays in the cemetery at Tyne Cot.

And, sensitively, one of the timbers is facing the sunset, the other the sunrise.

We reflected on this wonderful piece of artwork, its simplicity amplifying the ultimate sacrifice that too many of our fellow countrymen and women made so we can enjoy the freedoms that we have today; to be able to sit in a quiet reserve on Sydney Harbour’s foreshore in relative safety and free from the anxiety that conflict and war brings.

Bravo Keith, you have created far more than a wonderful sculpture to be admired, it is a wonderful tribute to your great-uncle, to all those who served, and to those who currently serve.

“We shall remember them…”

 Photos: Baz – The Landy, & Janet-Planet, Sydney Harbour, Australia

Land of Lizards – Outback Australia

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Ta-Ta Lizard
Thorny Devil

Photos: Baz – The Landy & Janet-Planet, Out and About in Outback Australia…

Selfishness – A simple word (With a complex meaning)

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Baz – Mt Aurora, Southern Alps, New Zealand

Selfishness is a word that we are likely to be confronted with every day…

But what does it really mean and how should it be applied to our daily lives, if at all?

Most dictionaries define selfishness as…

“Devoted to or caring only for oneself; concerned primarily with one’s own interests, benefits, welfare, etc., regardless of others.”

I pondered on this definition and eventually came to a conclusion that this is possibly one of the most misused words in the English vocabulary.

I asked myself the question..

Is it selfish to pursue our dreams, to live the life we desire, to see what we can achieve; to explore new horizons and to develop as individuals; to stand at the edge and look at the world through a different lens…?

Baz – Boar’s Head, Blue Mountains, Australia

 

As individuals our life and the way we lead it creates a mosaic of who we are.

The pieces of a jigsaw puzzle randomly sitting in a box are meaningless unless they are joined.

In much the same way the pieces of our lives, scattered, cannot portray or project anything about who we are or what we seek to be until pieced together.

Interlocked they provide a mosaic of whom we really are…

The picture unfolds…

Whom or what would we be if we were not able to join the random pieces together and pursue our dreams?

Would we ever achieve our real potential, or would a fear of selfishness limit us and how we develop as individuals?

Baz – The Landy

A place to contemplate (Outback Australia)

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Photo: Baz – The Landy, Gumhole Waterhole, Outback Australia

A White-Faced Heron – Delicately Poised…

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Australian Birds

Photo: Janet-Planet, Kangaroo Island, Australia

Adversity – A stepping stone to success (Hey, what colour is this..?)

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Seemingly, whenever I tell someone I am colour-blind they feel compelled to put me to the test.

“No… really, is that what you see?”

“Can’t be, you sure?”

And every so often I get that old chestnut…

“Are you like a dog and just see black and white?”

Mind you, I’m pretty relaxed about it these days…

Perhaps my dress sense gives me away, after all, there was that matter of the yellow pants I bought all those years ago.

Sensibly, these days I outsource my clothing purchases to Janet-Planet who has a good eye for fashion, mind you she has a naughty sense of humour as well, so I usually get TomO to do a second pass on any clothes she buys me, just in case she’s in a playful mood.

But even that has its limitations as without doubt TomO has inherited his mother’s sense of mischief…

Throughout my school years I always wanted to join the air-force and fly fast jets.

Yes, I know, everyone did, but I really wanted to!

It wasn’t until I underwent the air-force medical that the discovery was made, which went to explaining quite a lot. I only wish they had given me the medical first, rather than have me sit through hours of entrance exams only to stamp that brand new file…

“Colour-blind, FAIL….”

..Talk about being gutted, but I eventually moved on and ended up in the employ of the Bank of New South Wales, licking stamps to put on envelopes…

A Bank

 

And speaking of my banking colleagues.

I did manage to give them a good laugh when I came home with an old Holden Station Wagon.

Not that there was anything wrong with having an old Holden…

But a pink one?

It was unique…

I was living in a small country town in Northern Australia and I’d had my eye on that car for a long time and couldn’t believe my luck that it hadn’t been sold before I saved enough money to buy it.

I swear that car was yellow, such is the vagaries of a colour-blind!

But hey, I wore that car like a badge and there was no missing it at the Mareeba Drive-In on a Saturday night…

CrayonsAnd for heaven’s sake we won’t even talk about coloured crayons, other than to say the sight of a colouring-in book and crayons is still stressful to this day…

But my colour deficiency did motivate me to thumb my nose at the air-force, give them the

bird, so to speak, not that they shouldn’t have rules about colour deficiency, that sounds perfectly reasonable to me, but I wasn’t going to let it beat me either.

“After all, adversity is just a stepping stone to success, right…? It only gets the better of you if you let it and there was no way this would hold me back, ever…”

I’ve enjoyed a successful career with the bank, 42-years worth…

Ah, no, I’m not still licking stamps, but thanks for checking!

And I went on to fly my own plane.

It wasn’t quite a fast-jet, but hey nothing wrong with pretending sometimes. And when I tired of sitting in the pilot’s seat, I swapped the plane for a parachute and jumped out of them – until I broke my bum in a mid-air incident (but that is a story for another time).

But strewth,  I’ll tell you a funny thing, odd as it may seem I didn’t like the colour of the plane I owned, so I repainted it…go figure!

Baz - The Landy
Baz – The Landy

 

Tranquility – In the Australian Bush…

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Kangaroo Island

Photo: Baz – The Landy, Kangaroo Island, Australia

 

Windmills – In the Australian Outback…

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Windmills

 

Photo: Baz – The Landy, in the Australian Outback…

Nature’s Canvas – The Australian Outback

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Outback Australia

Photo: Baz – The Landy, Great Victoria Desert, Australia…

Heat wave hits Australia (How to survive…)

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Keep the fluids up…

Okay, yes Janet-Planet, I will put up the disclaimer

…”Please drink responsibly”

Crikey!

Photos: Baz – The Landy, and Janet-Planet, Out and About toasting Australia!

Crumbling – In the Australian Outback

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Outback Australia

Cadelga Outstation, Outback Australia…

Photo: Baz – The Landy…

 

Surviving an Atomic Bomb!

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In 1956 the British Government built an atomic bomb testing site in the South Australian outback with assistance from the Australian Government of the day…

We discovered these beautiful flowers growing at “ground zero”…   Don’t they demonstrate the tenacity of nature by defiantly shining through in spite of the brutal treatment this wonderful landscape was subjected to?

You can read more about the area in our blog titled “An Atomic Blast (In the Outback)”.

Photos: Janet Planet – Maralinga, South Australia

Remote…deep in the Australian Outback!

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Canning Stock Route

Remote..

Immersed deep in the Australian Outback…

Photo: Baz – The Landy

The Australian Outback – More than just a state of mind…

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Australian outback

Deep in the middle of one of Australia’s remote desert lands at a place where perhaps only a handful of Australian’s of European descent have stood, if that many and not a soul in sight

Photo: Baz – The Landy

Rosenberg’s Goanna, inquisitive and vulnerable…

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australian reptile

The Rosenberg Goanna is a monitor lizard and Kangaroo Island, situated off Australia’s southern coastline, is the last stronghold for this wonderful and inquisitive reptile. We came across this one on our recent visit to the island. 

It has been declared a vulnerable species, so let’s hope we won’t just be looking at them in wildlife journals in years to come…

Photo: Baz – The Landy

Weathered…

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Kangaroo Island

 

Fisherman’s shack, Kangaroo Island, Australia

Photo: Baz – The Landy

Breakfast, in the Australian Bush…

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Campfire cooking

An egg poached in an orange over a coal fire with bacon on the side. Seriously, it’s gotta be the best thing since sliced bread, hey!

Photo: Baz – The Landy

The thunder of a hundred hoofs (Camping in your backyard)…

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oo9KGZiPiSw

Breaking the bounds of urban living from Australia’s largest city and heading bush into the Australian Outback without a care in the world is always tantalisingly attractive.

Fortunately, as a family we are to be able to hitch up our camper trailer and head west at least once or twice a year.

The glow of a setting sun on a faraway horizon, the warmth of a camp fire crackling in harmony with the sizzle of a roast cooking in the camp-oven, and the chorus of laughter and banter with family and friends is what draws us to camping in this great country of ours.

And if you are like me, my mind’s eye pictures this scene almost every other day!

The problem for many of us is that work and the studies of teenage children tend to get in the way of a sojourn across a parched, rugged landscape under a never-ending blue sky.

Such is the beauty of Australia.

Recently, the call of the bush and a shoulder of lamb roasted on the fire was far too great to resist so we headed for a camp in our own backyard. Well, not quite literally our backyard, but a short drive up the freeway to a place called Glenworth Valley.

Glenworth Valley is a sprawling 3,000 acre property located just to the north of Sydney that caters to a variety of activities including, horse riding, quad bike riding, and for the less active inclined, a float on a li-low down a quiet meandering creek or if you like, just a leisurely stroll along many of the bush tracks.

Glenworth Valley has it all…!

And for those who cannot go a couple of days without a coffee fix expertly prepared by a barista, don’t be alarmed, you are catered for in a small café located near the stables.

Usually, we avoid camping with the crowds, in fact, as a family we are quite comfortable being in the middle of no-where without another soul in sight. The trouble with living and working in an urban environment is you usually need to travel some distance to find your idyllic spot, especially one that you won’t need to share with someone else…

The trip to Glenworth Valley was a rewarding way to re-charge the soul with family and friends despite there being just more than a few other campers who were perhaps encouraged out by the warmer weather and a long-weekend.

But don’t be put off by there being other campers, we still had plenty of room to kick-back and enjoy our camp-oven roasted lamb, washed down by a glass or two of red!

If you ever make it to Glenworth Valley don’t miss watching the horses’ race out of their holding yard and along the bush track that leads to their paddock. The thunder of the hoofs of over a hundred horses in full flight is a daily ritual that happens not long before the sun slips below the western hills, a spectacle not to be missed, that’s for sure…

Australian Kookaburra

And don’t worry about taking your alarm clock, the kookaburra’s will herald in a new day dawning just before you hear the sound of the horses returning from the paddock to be saddled up for another day of riding in the picturesque Glenworth Valley.

Enjoy, XPLORE…

Photos: Baz – The Landy

On Walk-About…

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Australian Desert

 

How good is the Australian Outback, hey? Absolutely mind-clearing country…

You could well be forgiven for thinking I was lost out here somewhere on walk-about, mind you there is some appeal to that…

Photo: Baz – The Landy

A Call to Action…

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American Jeep

This scene must have been played out every day during the Second World War, in either the European campaign, or in the Pacific…

 Photo: Baz – The Landy (circa 2016)

 Footnote: I was part of a photo shoot in the Blue Mountains this weekend past…

Mateship…along the Black Cat Track

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Menari Village, Papua New Guinea

The Black Cat Track is not another four-wheel drive track that I have discovered in Outback Australia, but for those with a little more than a passing interest in Australian Military history will recognise it as a significant battle ground in Papua New Guinea.

Many will be familiar with the story of the Kokoda Track.

Military historians have written often of the bravery and courage shown by those involved in the New Guinea campaign, especially along the Kokoda Track, and no doubt there are countless stories of others whose sacrifices and bravery are known only to a higher authority.

Today, many Australian’s in increasing numbers are walking the Kokoda Track to pay homage to those Australian’s and Papua New Guinean Nationals, affectionately known as the Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels, who fought to defend Australia and Papua New Guinea. Most, if not all, are moved by the experience, especially after gaining only a glimpse of the conditions they would have experienced and the enormity of the task they faced against the highly-trained Japanese invasion force.

In the mid 1980’s my partner, Janet-Planet, and I lived in Papua New Guinea and we relished the opportunity to travel and work in a country that was so close to ‘home’ but was so  culturally different to Australia

The experience was humbling at times.

Before leaving the country one of my National colleagues said that I would return on many occasions in the future. Of course I said I would love to, but he was insistent, telling me that he ‘knew’ things of the future.

And he was correct, since leaving I have returned twice, once for work in the mid 1990’s, and the second to walk the Kokoda Track in 2006.

I have always had a deep interest in Australian Military history and the Anzac Spirit; the Australian commitment to one’s mate that is legendary and unique amongst the World’s fighting forces; on the sporting field, anywhere for that matter. And it was with that in mind that I found myself walking the Kokoda Track with a ‘mate’ in 2006.

 

 

We visited many battlefields; sang ‘Danny Boy’ in honour of Butch Bissett at the site that his brother, Stan, nursed him to his death, and stood in silence to the fallen at Bomana War Cemetery just outside of the country’s capital, Port Moresby.

The countryside was amazing and the people warm and welcoming.

Ten years later and I am to ‘return’ once again.

In May next year I will be travelling to Papua New Guinea, this time to trek the Black Cat Track in the country’s Morobe Province.

Yes it sounds like a long time off, but time flies, right, especially when you are trying to get your fitness “up to speed”.

Partnering up with a group of like-minded people we will be guided by Aidan Grimes, an Irishman with a great sense of humour and who now calls Australia home. Aidan’s experience and knowledge of the battlefields of this region are unparalleled and with this knowledge in hand he will help us retrace the steps taken by those who fought in this region over 60 years ago, expertly guiding us through the jungle and over mountains.

Although we will never be able to walk in the boots of those that trod this region during the War Days……

The Black Track Cat starts in Wau and winds its way down to the coast at Salamaua, with many suggesting this track makes the Kokoda Track seem like a Sunday afternoon stroll in the park.

It is not an established track like ‘The Kokoda’ on which thousands of trekkers regularly tread, but a forgotten World War ll track that passes through what has been described as some of the toughest and most-hazardous terrain in the world.

In an account of his experience in The New Guinea Narrative 2001, Signalman Lloyd Collins, 3rd Division Signals, explained;

“…there was little conversation. You neither had the time nor the inclination. Talking required energy and energy was a scarce resource. When passing a mate you sometimes glanced at his face, a face dull from fatigue and dripping with perspiration. You saw his sticking clothes, his muddy boots and trousers. You noticed the heavy pack and you could hear his heaving breath as he struggled past. Then, as you pitied him and felt sorry for his plight, you realised that you looked the same to others. Even though no words were spoken the silent glance conveyed sympathy and understanding…”

This hardly sounds like a holiday I hear you say, perhaps it is more of a test of one’s own ability to draw on inner-strengths, to be inspired and stand in awe of those that fought to protect our country; laying down their own lives so we may enjoy the freedoms and way of life we do today.

To add to the adventure we will raft down the San Francisco River from the village at the end of the track to Salamaua on rafts made locally before resting overnight and completing our journey back to Lae by sea.

It is said that Salamaua is one of best kept secrets in the world and one of the most idyllic places you will ever go!

Those that follow my expeditions into the magnificent Australian Outback will know that I enjoy a camp oven roasts, scones, and Janet’s dampers, not to mention the odd beer or two. And whilst maintaining a high level of fitness it is fair to say that I am back in the gym, rowing, and weight training as well as spending time much time in the “hills” the Australian “bush” with my backpack on…something that I need little encouragement to do!

Cheers, Baz – The Landy

The Painted Desert

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Outback Australia…

Photo: Baz – The Landy

Fate, are you a believer?

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A couple of months ago I decided to put aside my climbing ambitions in Nepal this year after my sister, Debbie, was diagnosed with advanced cancer.

Instead Deb and I went on a road trip a week or so ago with our mother to the Queensland country town where she grew up, having a wonderful time together as a family.

Last Wednesday, TomO, the crown prince, broke his patella, his knee cap as it is more commonly known, in a bad fall in the school gym.

Needless to say it was a traumatic time for Janet and me to see the little bloke in so much pain.

This happened on the day I was due to arrive in Kathmandu to climb Mera Peak and just ahead of the tragic news overnight of a severe earthquake involving large loss of life in Kathmandu.

TomO had surgery on Thursday to repair his patella and all went well and he is recovering at home with lots of ice-cream! Unfortunately this will keep an active young man on the benches for the next few months, but the young bounce back quickly!

My climbing partners on this trip to Nepal headed to Lukla just prior to the earthquake and I’ve had news they are okay…

Janet has always been behind my mountaineering ambition and adventures one-hundred percent, but gave me a hug this morning and said,

“Glad you didn’t go you were needed here for reasons we didn’t know at the time…”

If it had not have been for Deb’s condition, which we would change in a heart beat if we could, I would have been in Nepal. But despite her condition Deb is still looking out for her little brother in ways that big sister’s do and perhaps only the “universe” will ever understand…

Our thoughts go out to all those affected in Nepal and if you are able to support the wonderful Nepalese people via a relief fund, please do.

 

Baz – The Landy

Courage, Endurance, Mateship, Sacrifice…

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Kokoda Track This morning, just prior to the rising of the sun, Australian’s for all walks of life gathered in the parks of our cities and our small country towns to honour the men and women of our military who made the ultimate sacrifice so we may enjoy the life we do today.

 A life in Australia that is governed by a democratic process and free from many of the troubles that we see around the world today.

As I stood silently by the Memorial in our local park the sun was piercing the eastern horizon on a glorious morning, the Kookaburras’ were heralding the arrival of a new day and I thought how lucky am I to have grown up in this great Nation of ours.

Our outback travels take us through many small towns and communities in this vast country of ours and it was from these places that the young men of a new Nation enlisted to serve the Empire…

Bluey and the Boys, people just like you and me, men, just boys, that didn’t think twice about serving King and Country.

Today marks the 100th Anniversary of the landing at Gallipoli, Turkey, in 1915, a place where the term ANZAC was forged on that small wind swept peninsular, stained forever with the blood of our brave and courageous…

“They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old; 
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. 
At the going down of the sun and in the morning 
We will remember them.”

Lest We Forget

Australian Military

Everything has changed – really?

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Scarborough, Australia

Do you ever get that sense that wherever you look these days something has changed, perhaps for the better, often for the worse?

Seemingly, technology has made life easier for us, if you know how to use it!

Crikey, I have just worked my way through that whopping big manual that came with the VCR recorder and now they tell me they’re finished, kaput, and useless.

TomO, the crown prince, said it belonged in a museum anyway, adding that in fact that most of the contents of our house were starting to resemble a museum collection.

Strewth, isn’t that something else that has changed, the cheek of the young people these days…

And how about fast food?

Hell, I remember when fast food was a Chiko Roll and a can of coke from the local fish and chip shop. These days we’ve got so many choices that a bloke would starve before he got around to making up his mind.

Hey, what about GPS and smart phones?

Talk about change, I never had any problem finding the corner store, but seemingly the young and not so young need one to navigate around the local mall these days.   And besides what was wrong with the old paper maps that you could spread across the bonnet of the car and then spend an hour chasing across a paddock after that big gush of wind turned it into a sail?

But they call this progress, change…

On a recent road trip, dubbed “Ocean to the Outback” we visited my mother’s hometown of Bundaberg situated on the east coast to the north of Brisbane. Fay reveled in the visit and we spent time visiting the property that her Grandfather owned and ran cattle on when she was a young girl. “The Springs” as it was known due to a spring fed creek on the property is now a scout camp.

As a young adult she worked in the Metropolitan Hotel in downtown Bourbong Street, the epicenter of the town. Mum insisted we stop, have a beer and a good old-fashioned counter-lunch.

I remember as a kid having a can-of-lunch there. At least that is what I thought they called it. It was a few years later when a cute barmaid in a small country pub fell into stitches of laughter when I ordered a can-of-lunch that I made the discovery; it was a counter-lunch.

But I’m digressing and Janet is peering over my shoulder asking about the cute barmaid…

The Metropole Hotel

There was much reminiscing as Fay walked through “The Met” and we were fortunate to spend some time with the owner who loved to hear about how the pub was in the days gone by.

As we sat down to our can-of-lunch and a few beers, Mum looked around and said that it had all changed, it wasn’t the same anymore, she said. You couldn’t see the old stairs that took you up to the accommodation rooms and the old kitchen had gone.

Sometimes things have the appearance of having changed, but maybe when you delve just below the surface you see that nothing really has changed after all – maybe it is just a matter of perspective!

As I sipped my beer I looked around and thought…

“Surely nothing has changed”

After all the main bar was full of people chatting, laughing, enjoying a meal…

And of course, drinking an ice-cold beer!

I’m betting nothing has changed at “The Met” in the last hundred years…

Do places or life generally really change or just our perspective?

Photos: Baz – The Landy

Ocean to the Outback…

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Kylie’s Beach
Trilby Station, Outback Australia
the beach
Camp-fire cooking over coals
scones
The Surf

One of the great things about Australia, apart from the laid back nature of the people, is the diverse landscapes in our sunburnt country.

 The beauty of our never-ending beaches where one can walk for miles and feel the golden grains of sand between your toes, to the ochre red colours of the Outback…

In a couple of weeks we will be heading off on our first trip of the year and themed from The Ocean to the Outback.

Starting close-by to the World Renowned Fraser Island, the largest sand island in the world we will make our way inland to Trilby Station, a large sheep property situated on the mighty Darling River in Outback Australia…

Hey, it will be great to have you along, so I’ll give you a shout as we are heading down the driveway in “The Landy” – strewth, if we’re lucky Janet-Planet might cook up some of those great scones of hers over a camp fire!

Photos: Baz – The Landy

A Snog or a Durrie

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http://youtu.be/mIWrZfDT5IQ

How good is hearing one of your favourite songs played on the radio?

Even better when it is a long time favourite unearthed to tickle the airwaves once more.

Music has the ability to move your emotions. It can motivate you, take you places, make you laugh, or even cry, perhaps rejoin you with distant memories…

Or just make you sick!

Uh?

Recently TomO and I were driving along the freeway and one such song came on the radio…

“Most People I Know (Think That I’m Crazy)” by Billy Thorpe and the Aztecs, a great Aussie rock-band.

I was growing up in Townsville, North Queensland and heading into puberty faster than warp speed just as this song was released.

Strewth, remember those free and easy days?

You could head off on your bike with your mates in the morning with strict instructions to be back for dinner.

In reality we were usually back by lunchtime. Food was required on a regular basis with all that testosterone sloshing around!

But testosterone and girls is for another time…

Anyway, TomO says…

“So Dad, you like this song, hey?

“It’s fitting ‘cause Mum and me think you are just a little bit crazy, that’s for sure.”

I reminded him that he was a chip off the old-block and he might just be a little crazy as well…

“Sure, it is one of my all time favourites” I said, “it takes me back to a time when I was around your age, maybe a touch older.”

“Were you going through puberty”, he asked?

“Yeah, sure mate, I love that song, but it makes me feel sick” Avoiding the puberty question…

“How could it make you feel sick if you like it?”

“See Dad, you are crazy.”

“How could you love a song and say that it makes you sick at the same time.”

“It doesn’t make sense.”

I had aroused an interest that would have him hunting down an answer like a pit bull terrier nipping at your heels.

The song had finished and I vowed to find a quiet moment up in The Shed later in the day when I could crank it up on my iPod.

Humming along to myself I got to thinking this would be a good time to share a story from my younger days…

A good opportunity to reinforce the evils of smoking.

As I drove, he listened…

I’d heard some mates talking about how they had tried smoking, but I was shying away from these discussions as I was too scared to give it a go.

I wanted to, but didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of my mates. I mean what if I threw up, or coughed, or whatever? I’d be the laughing stock of class 6E and maybe even risk being dropped from the footy team.

It was about mid-semester when that fateful day arrived, I just didn’t recognise it when I got out of bed that morning and headed to school, after all it was the same as any other day, at least I thought it was.

On the way home I passed Leong’s corner shop.

You’ll know the place, full of lollies, ice-creams, chips, stuff I didn’t usually have any money to spend on, but still I passed by most days.

I was hanging around outside on my bike, not sure what I was actually waiting for as I was still another year or so away from taking an  active interest in the girls that hung out there.

Anyway, I see this bloke pull up in a flash car. Well I thought it was flash anyway, a new Holden Kingswood sedan, and as he gets out he tossed a half-finished cigarette onto the ground.

The next couple of moments were a blur really, certainly impulsive!

And isn’t that the story of my life.

I swooped on that smouldering cigarette, durrie, as the older boys called them, with all the zest of two seagulls fighting over a lone chip, discarded uncaringly on a beach side promenade.

Quickly extinguishing it, I hid it in my pocket and was back on my bike.

Maybe that is where my athletic prowess started, if I can call it that, as I peddled faster and harder than I had ever done before and probably ever since.

I swore the whole world witnessed this event and the police would be on to me before I got home, sirens blaring, handcuffed and dragged before my parents.

Oh my gawd, the risk I was taking of being caught with this solitary piece of contraband.

Luck was seemingly on my side though, I got home unchallenged by the law.

But there was still Mum to navigate past as I headed for the kitchen cupboard that stored the matches.

Would she miss a box?

The mind was racing, but I needn’t have worried.

I should have been in the military as the task was completed with precision. I had the matches and the durrie, there was an air of subterfuge about the whole thing; a tinge of excitement…

I was now feeling like a fugitive running from the law as I headed down to the old sawmill a couple of kilometres from home.

In hindsight, I’m not sure why I didn’t do it the time old-fashioned way and light the bloody thing up behind the shed.

Anyway, I scaled an old sawdust pile and slid down the other side, careful to remain well out of sight.

Fumbling, I took that used durrie, yep the one covered in someone else’s spit and saliva, probably contaminated with all kinds of germs and put it in my mouth.

For crying out loud, this thing had been between the lips of someone I didn’t even know.

But it was far too late to contemplate now as the flame of the match was licking at my fingers like an out-of-control bush fire…

This was supposed to be a pleasant experience, or so they say.

I tried to be sophisticated about it…

Sophisticated?

Hell, who was I kidding?

Here I was covered in sawdust and sucking on a discarded fag…

Despite numerous advances from our next door neighbour, I still wasn’t willing to let her tongue loose in my mouth, mixing all those salvia juices together for fear of catching girl germs.

But here I was with someone’s used fag, durrie, whatever you want to call the damned thing, jammed between my lips…

Okay, so let’s just put it out there, it was gross!

But give me a break, I couldn’t even afford a packet of lollies from Leong’s store, let alone a packet of durries…

I coughed my way through that cigarette.

As I lay back in the sawdust dragging on that cigarette I got to thinking that snogging Debbie Kelly couldn’t possibly be this bad, and now I had ticked this off the “to do list” maybe I could take up her offer…

Just for a comparison!

I wasn’t feeling one way or the other on this smoking thing.

I was indifferent at best!

And about half-way home it hits me, my head started spinning and I felt the whole world was about to end.

I felt sick…

Man, I mean really sick.

To this day I’m sure Mum was wondering how I came to be covered in sawdust.

But she didn’t ask.

Perhaps she thought I was stealing a kiss from Debbie Kelly down at the old sawmill?

Having a good old snog as our tongues danced in a sea of saliva.

If only it had been the case maybe I would have a cheeky smile on my face each time I heard Billy Thorpe and the Aztecs belt out that song.

TomO listened on intently.

I did notice a bit of a wry smile coming out the corner of his mouth.

Perhaps he was weighing up what he would have done, a snog or the cigarette…

You see as I lay back on my bed, my head spinning faster than an out of control merry-go-round, Billy and the Boys were belting out that classic on the radio…

And I felt so sick, so very sick…

But I still love that song!

Baz – The Landy…

Jump into your day (and throw caution to the wind)

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44990018

Take a running jump into your day…and throw caution to the wind!

Janet waving at the camera for me at 12,000 feet…

You just wouldn’t be dead for quids, hey!

Baz, The Landy

 

Beach Culture – Downunder

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Surfing

Merewether Beach, Newcastle, Australia…

Photo: Baz – The Landy

Watagan Mountains (The Australian Bush)

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The Watagan’s is a great place to spend a weekend or  few more days hiking.  Situated just to the north of Sydney, it is a lush mountainous area full of wonderful flora and fauna.

We hiked a familiar route, the Great North Walk, overnighting at  Barraba Trig, a picturesque site that overlooks the famous Hunter Valley wine growing region from its vantage point high on a ridge top…

The girl’s, Janet and Leah, packed their men, TomO, me, brother-in-law Ray (the Kiwi) and young Aubrey, off on Saturday afternoon, before glamming up and heading to a beautiful French restaurant in Newcastle…

And what an awesome effort by nephew 5-year old Aubrey, he walked half of the 25 kilometre hike!

And the Kiwi showed some great endurance carrying him and a 20-kilo pack the rest of the way! Mind you he did run 100-kilometres of this route just a couple of weeks back in 20-hours!

The Australian Bush hey, you’ve got to love it.

 Photos: Baz – The Landy

A Writer’s Retreat

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Kylie TennantKylie’s Hut, Crowdy Bay, Coastal Australia.

It is here that Australian fiction writer Kylie Tennant penned the novel Man on the Headland, a wonderful story in which she portrays Crowdy Bay and the man who built her the hut, Ernie Metcalfe.

Many of Kylie’s novels bordered on documentaries and she wrote in a way that sought to bring attention to her readers about poverty and disadvantage.

She died in 1988.

 Photo: Baz – The Landy

On the Evils of Smoking (And Puberty)

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http://youtu.be/mIWrZfDT5IQ

There is nothing better than hearing one of your favourite songs played on the radio, even better when it is a long time favourite and one that you hadn’t heard in ages, unearthed to tickle the airwaves once more.

Music has the ability to move your emotions. It can motivate you, it can take you places, it can make you laugh, or even cry, it can sometimes rejoin you with distant memories…

The other day TomO and I were out driving and one such song came on the radio, Most People I Know (Think That I’m Crazy), by Billy Thorpe and the Aztecs, a great Aussie rock-band.

 Initially formed in the 1960s, the band parted ways, but reformed again in 1971. It was during this second coming that I was growing up in Townsville, North Queensland, heading into puberty at the rate of knots and just as this song was released.

Crikey, those days were free and easy.  You could head off on your bike with your mates in the morning, with strict instructions to be back for dinner. In reality we were usually back by lunchtime.

Food was required on a regular basis with all that testosterone sloshing around!

But I’m digressing from the story, testosterone and girls is for another time, much later…

Anyway, TomO says…

“So Dad, you like this song, hey?

“It’s fitting ‘cause Mum and me think you are just a little bit crazy, that’s for sure.”

I reminded him that he was a chip off the old-block and he might just be a little crazy as well…

“Sure, it is one of my all time favourites” I said, “it takes me back to a time when I was around your age, maybe a touch older.”

“Were you going through puberty”, he asked?

TomO tells me “Things are a happening down there, Dad.”

Geez, I wasn’t long out of Sesame Street at his age and I was still struggling with the alphabet…

But moving along…the song now in full swing, I said,

“Yeah, sure mate, I love that song, but it makes me feel sick!”

“How could it make you feel sick if you like it?”

A fair question I thought as I gave myself a mental smack around the chops…

“See, Dad you are crazy.”

“How could you love a song and say that it makes you sick at the same time, it doesn’t make sense.”

Realising I had just aroused an interest that would have him hunting down an answer like a pit bull terrier nipping at your heels I now had to share a story that had been holed up inside that little brain of mine, never shared with anyone before that moment…

If I was Homer Simpson, I’d be slapping my forehead and saying, DOH!

The song had finished and I vowed to find a quiet moment up in The Shed later in the day when I could crank it back up on my iPod.

Anyway, with him nipping away I thought this  a good opportunity to reinforce the evils of smoking.

At school I’d heard some mates talking about how they had tried smoking, but I was shying away from these discussions as I was too scared to give it a go…

In reality, I did want to give it a go, but didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of my mates, I mean what if I threw up, or coughed, or whatever, I’d be the laughing stock of class 6E and maybe even risk being dropped from the footy team.

It was about mid-semester when that fateful day arrived, I just didn’t recognise it when I got out of bed that morning and headed to school, after all it was the same as any other day, at least I thought it was.

On the way home I passed Leong’s corner shop. You’ll know the place, full of lollies, ice-creams, chips, stuff I didn’t usually have any money to spend on, but still I passed by most days.

I was hanging around outside on my bike, not sure what I was actually waiting for as I was still a couple of years away from taking a more active interest in the girls that hung out there. And no I wasn’t looking at boys either, just on the off chance you’re wondering!

I see this bloke pull up in a flash car, well I thought it was flash anyway, a new Holden Kingswood sedan.  As he gets out he toss’s a half-finished cigarette onto the ground.

The next couple of moments were a blur really, certainly impulsive, and isn’t that the story of my life.

I swooped on that smouldering cigarette, or durrie, as the older boys called them, with all the zest of two seagulls fighting over a lone chip, discarded uncaringly on a beach side promenade.

Quickly extinguishing it, I hid it in my pocket and was back on my bike.

Maybe that is where my athletic prowess, if I can call it that, started as I peddled faster and harder than I had ever done before, and probably ever since.

I swore the whole world witnessed this event and the police would be on to me before I got home, sirens blaring, handcuffed and dragged before my parents. Oh my gawd, the risk I was taking of being caught with this solitary piece of contraband.

Luck was seemingly on my side, I got home, there was still Mum to navigate past as I headed for the kitchen cupboard that stored the matches.

Would she miss a box?

The mind was racing, but I needn’t have worried. I should have been in the military, the task was completed with precision, I had the matches and the cigarette, there was an air of subterfuge about the whole thing, a tinge of excitement…

By now I was feeling like a fugitive running from the law as I headed down to the old sawmill a couple of kilometres from home.

In hindsight, I’m not sure why I didn’t do it the time old-fashioned way and light the bloody thing up behind the shed.

Anyway, I scaled an old sawdust pile and slid down the other side, careful to remain well out of sight.

Fumbling, I took that used cigarette, yep the one covered in someone else’s spit and saliva, probably contaminated with all kinds of germs and put it in my mouth.

For crying out loud, this thing had been between the lips of someone I didn’t know.

But it was far too late to contemplate now as the flame of the match was licking at my fingers like an out-of-control bush fire…

This was supposed to be a pleasant experience, or so they say. I tried to be sophisticated about it…

Sophisticated, hell, who was I kidding? I was covered in sawdust, sucking on a discarded fag, strewth what was I thinking…

As things stood I still wasn’t willing to kiss Debbie Kelly, our next door neighbour, despite her numerous advances for fear of catching girl germs. But I had someone’s used fag, durrie, whatever you want to call the damned thing between my lips…

I grew up with the Kelly girls and their father was a dentist, so surely they wouldn’t have too many girl germs swilling around in their saliva.

Okay, so I’ll just put it out there…

It was gross, yep, let me say it again, gross…

But hey, give me a break, I might have been all of thirteen, thinking I was going on twenty-one or something. I couldn’t even afford a packet of lollies from Leong’s store, let alone a packet of durries.

I coughed my way through that cigarette.

At one stage I was thinking that snogging Debbie Kelly couldn’t possibly be this bad, but as they say, the rest is history.

I got on my bike and headed towards home, I wasn’t feeling one way or the other on this smoking thing, I was indifferent at best, and maybe now I had gotten this out the way I could take Debbie Kelly up on her offer of a snog, just for comparison.

Crikey, about half-way home it hit me, my head started spinning and I felt the whole world was about to end.

I felt sick, I mean really sick.

I made it home and headed for the shower, I’m sure Mum was wondering how I came to be covered in sawdust, but she didn’t ask. Perhaps she thought I was stealing a kiss from Debbie Kelly down at the old sawmill?

If only that had been the case, maybe I would have a cheeky smile on my face each time I heard Billy Thorpe and the Aztecs belt out that song.

TomO listened on intently. I did notice a bit of a wry smile coming out the corner of his mouth, I thought perhaps he was weighing up what he would have done, a snog or the cigarette…

You see as I lay back on my bed, my head spinning faster than an out of control merry-go-round, Billy and the Boys were belting out that classic on the radio, and I felt so sick, so very sick…

But geez, I still love that song!

Footnote

Over the past three months I have been able to step up my rowing and fitness regime following the injuries I suffered in 2013. 

Usually this is done up in “The Shed” and if it isn’t silly o’clock in the morning, but past the cocktail hour in the afternoon, I have a dose of good old fashioned Aussie Rock  playing on the iPod.

A couple of days ago, whilst playing on random, this song came up, it brought a smile to my face, but turned my stomach as I was rounding off a 15,000 metre row.

Anyway, I thought I would indulge myself and share this story once again…

Cheers, Baz – The Landy

Adventure and Youth (How good is this)

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Adventure and Youth (TomO the Trailblazer)

Adventure and youth, what a great mix!

TomO lead the way today heading off for his first scuba dive which he did at Clifton Gardens, on beautiful Sydney Harbour…

scuba diving

 Despite Janet and I quite comfortably diving out of airplanes and loving water sports, we’ve never harboured the desire to scuba dive! So TomO has set a first for our family!

Crikey, adventure hey, good on you mate.

Bravo TomO!

Photos: Janet Planet