The Southern Alps of New Zealand is a wonderful playground and I’m sure there are many like me out there who have experienced what this part of the world has on offer.
You’d think that living in close proximity to New Zealand Australians would visit all the time. After all it is just a short flight across “The Ditch” to get there. In fact it is quicker to get to New Zealand than it is to get from the East to West Coast of Australia.
Up until this year I had never visited previously, and here I am about to embark on my third trip in the last few months. I’m sure I’ll have much to write about after my week of climbing and mountaineering next week.
Earlier this year I competed in the Speight’s Coast to Coast Adventure Race, a race that starts on the West Coast of the country at Kumara beach on the Tasman Sea, takes you over the Southern Alps, and finishes on the East Coast in Christchurch at Sumner beach on the Pacific Ocean.
It is billed as the world’s premier multi-sport event and the benchmark by which all other multi-sport events are judged, both in New Zealand and overseas.
It covers a total distance of 243 kilometres comprising 36 kilometres of running, including a 33km mountain stage that climbs almost 1,000 metres, two cycling legs totalling 125 kilometres, and a 67 kilometre kayak down the Waimakariri River, through the Grand Canyon of New Zealand, the Waimakariri Gorge.
If you’ve got a spare 5 minutes take the time to have a look at the video, it showcases the race and is very inspiring.
The winner in this year’s one day event took line honours in just over eleven hours.
The cut-off times for the one day event were too severe for me, so I competed in the two day event and Janet my partner, and Tomo, our son were my support crew. They did a great job!
The scenery is amazing, and despite being in a race I made sure I took it in, especially the views as I made my way up over Goats Pass on the 33 kilometre mountain run.
The kayak leg takes you down the fast flowing Waimakariri River, a braided river that has a 33 kilometre section of white water as it passes through a long gorge. Spectacular country, and I rolled twice in the gorge as I negotiated rapids, usually about the times I relaxed to take in the view!
But what makes this event truly great is the camaraderie of all the competitors. Whilst it is a race I found the support given and shown throughout the event is unparallel in any other event I have competed in. The sportsmanship shown was fantastic, although, being an Aussie I did get some friendly ribbing from my Tasman cousins, as you’d expect!
And how is this for inspiration, Neelusha Memona a 27 year old who lost 70 percent of her sight after a brain injury in 2000 competed and finished the two day event assisted by a support crew…
The people of Christchurch are amazing. Almost one year to the day of the start of this year’s race, its 30th running, the city was struck by a devastating earthquake that destroyed a large part of the city centre, many people died.
But as we passed through the city on our bikes, racing to the finish line, ushered through traffic lights by police as though we were royalty, the people of Christchurch lined the streets and cheered us on.
I read many stories about people competing in triathlons, running, and cycling events, even kayak races.
I say, if you love adventure, exercise, and have a panache for travel – take the time to have a look at this event, you might find yourself drawn towards it, like a magnet. And truly, you will be rewarded by a great experience in a country full of spectacular scenery and warm friendly people.
I was, and if I can convince “the boss” at work to give me more time off I might just get back for next February’s start.
What do you say all you triathletes and adventure racers, see you there next year?
This morning while doing a weight session in “The Shed” I was listening to a great Aussie Rocker, Stevie Wright, and a song I hadn’t heard for a long-time played, “A Black Eyed Bruiser”. This is a favourite and I thought how appropriate it was for today.
This morning, TomO, our 12 year-old son, competed in his very first Taekwondo tournament. He has been training for over a year now and has earned his green belt and the right to compete…
Mum was a little hesitant at first, after all this was her little man going on to the mat, putting his body on the line…
But like when he first started playing football, Rugby Union that is, Janet has warmed to a sport that teaches respect, self-discipline and encourages a high level of fitness. And in a controlled environment that can’t be a bad thing?
He loved it!
After the tournament we asked him what he was feeling as he went out onto the mat…and he said,
“Dad I was pumped and ready, a little nervous, like it is hard to explain, but I just said to myself, here I go”…
TomO was a little behind in the points initially, but started to pick-up as the bout progressed.
But just as TomO spun around in a 360 – degree kick his opponent crouched slightly and it unintentionally connected above the other boy’s shoulder.
Unfortunately, this lead to an instant disqualification for TomO as under the rules of this competition hits above the shoulder or to the head area are not permitted, and rightly so!
His opponent was not injured and was fine with what transpired, there was no malice, just an unlucky hit. TomO bowed, shook his opponents hand and thanked him for the bout.
TomO accepted it for what it was, and although slightly disappointed at the way it ended today, he said he’d learnt a lot by competing, was better for the experience and can’t wait to get back into practice this week to prepare for his next competition.
Good work mate, we’re proud of our Little Black Eyed Bruiser…
Well I was excited a few weeks ago when I booked a mountaineering and climbing trip to the Southern Alps in New Zealand south island…
Now I’m bloody excited, you know, like when you can barely control yourself, excited like when you still thought Santa came down the chimney!
After an early morning paddle down at Narrabeen Lakes this morning, which I almost had to myself along with a few pelicans, I headed home for a final gear check and pack as I depart this coming Friday.
Whilst in New Zealand I’ll be climbing under the instruction of Dean Staples who is Adventure Consultants Chief Guide for New Zealand.
Dean is a highly skilled IFMA Guide and has guided many expeditions around the world for the company. These include three ascents of Cho Oyu, two times to Ama Dablam, and the Vinson Massif.
He’s also travelled to the Antarctic Peninsular.
If that all sounds very impressive, get this, this year Dean summited Mount Everest for the eighth time, yes that’s right eight times.
My current goal is to summit Cho Oyu, the world’s sixth largest mountain peak, which measures in at 8,201 metres (26,906 feet). But there is plenty of preparation and training to be done before I head off on that expedition, hopefully in 2014.
Under Dean’s guidance I’m hoping to learn some very valuable skills during my week in New Zealand, or N-Zed, as us Aussies affectionately call it…
We will spend the week in either Westland National Park, Mt Cook National Park, or Aspiring National Park, depending on where conditions are best suited. And as it is still very cold we will be staying in mountain huts rather than camping on the glaciers.
We will fly into the glaciers by helicopter or ski plane and at this stage we are planning to fly out at the end of the week, but that will depend on the weather and aircraft availability at the time, otherwise it will be a hike out.
Our focus over the week will be on crampon and ice axe skills, and crevasse rescues, with a few other mountain skills thrown in for good measure. So there should be a fair amount of ice-climbing.
This is designed to prepare mountaineers for climbing the “seven summits” the highest peaks on each of the world’s continents.
Mt Aspiring, Southern Alps, New Zealand
I’m also going back to N-Zed in January for a summit attempt on Mt Aspiring.
What makes this a real challenge for me is that I grew up in tropical Northern Australia, my playground was the Australian outback, and the tropical waters of the Great Barrier Reef.
I was almost thirty years of age before I even set foot on snow, and I’ve never snow skied in my life.
And as I confessed in an earlier musing, I can’t even tie my shoe-laces! But I can tie quite a few mountaineering knots, lucky that!
And what of Everest you ask?
Well let’s see if I can get to the top of Cho Oyu first…but Janet, my partner, has penciled it in the diary already, saying she knows me too well.
For me, I will be very happy to get to a position of where I could reasonably contemplate having a go for it…
And thanks for the vote of confidence Janet…I’m taking it as tacit approval for the funding of that trip if it ever eventuates…
If you’re inclined, I’ll be updating Facebook when I can, check out The Landy there, just click ‘like’…
Last weekend we had a pleasant and impromptu get-together at our place with a few friends. These evening’s are always enjoyable, unpredictable and a good laugh is always had, frequently at my expense…
The increase in banter and laughter seemingly correlated with the number of wine corks being pulled.
A few of the world’s problems were solved, and Janet, my partner, managed to organise a major shopping trip with her girlfriends whilst I’m climbing in New Zealand next week.
And then somehow we got on to a discussion about ‘what have you broken?’
Now don’t ask me why, it just did.
Bob kicked it off by saying…
“Yeah, I fell out of a tree, broke me arm”
Ray, a rugby-mad Kiwi, has a nose that’s been moved off-centre courtesy of failing to catch a high ball…
There was a couple of broken legs in their somewhere, I can’t remember who, but let’s face it they are kind of “dime a dozen”…
Jeff managed to break a finger in a schoolyard dust up. Mind you, it would’ve been a brave person to take him on, the bloke is about six-foot-six and has shoulders as wide as Beyoncé’s booty, and a bit firmer as well.
And hey, don’t get me wrong here, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with her booty!!
Kimbalee, bless her, broke a couple of nails and had to spend half-a morning in the beauty parlour sipping lattes while a team of specialists worked their magic on her.
Eventually it got around to me,
“Baz, how’d you go, you’ve bound to have broken something?”
Janet, her cheeky grin barely contained, egging them on…
“Yeah Baz, tell them what you’ve broken”…
Blushing,
“My bum”.
Maybe it wouldn’t have been so funny any other time, but this was a crowd that was only warming up. They laughed so hard and long that many were in tears…
“Thanks Janet…”
My broken bum had its making back in the early 1980s at a Sunday session at the Brekky Creek Hotel, in Brisbane. Back in those days the pub only opened for a short time on Sunday’s and it was a case of getting as many beers into you in as short a time possible.
I’d like to say that I was responsible in the way I approached these sessions, but I can’t…
Anyway, they were always very sociable and fun affairs…
After a few jugs of beer, the boys decided we should go and learn to skydive, sounded awesome, I was in for sure.
And thinking that I could always claim ‘beer talk’ if I needed to back out of it…
No chance, Bush-rat, as one of our mates was known, saw to it that wasn’t going to happen, and by the next Saturday we had done our first jump out in the Brisbane Valley at Toogoolawah.
At the time it was only a fledgling drop-zone. Today it is a major skydiving centre run by the bloke who tossed me out that very first time, Dave McEvoy.
Customary as it was, we had to shout the bar at the Toogoolawah pub on that Saturday night.
It was a big night…!
We went on to do quite a few jumps over a couple of years and enjoyed the shenanigans that was part of the skydiving scene, a crazy bunch by any standard…
It was fun times back in the days when sex was safe and skydiving was dangerous.
How things have changed!
Eventually work commitments saw us all head our separate ways, and skydiving tended to take a back seat to other activities…
Fast forward to more recent times and I thought it would be good to go back and do some more skydiving.
I sounded out Janet, who was right on to it and wanted to go also.
Back in the early 1980’s she was literally the girl next door, and yearned to go skydiving with us, but was to shy to ask. All of eighteen, and sweet as…
There was no such shyness this time around.
And, yeah, I did marry the girl-next-door…
We signed up to do an accelerated free-fall course, which went well…
So how about the broken bum they chorused?
On a jump I deployed my chute as I was diving away, it was a little sloppy really, and my foot got caught in one of the lines as the chute was opening and it flipped me through my harness.
The upshot was I went from 200 kilometres an hour to zero with one leg above my head, stuck in the line.
It was a leg split that even the most practiced ballerina would’ve be proud of, unfortunately for me it ripped my hamstring right off my bum…
The pain was intense, but I managed to land safely…
A couple of weeks later and after a few thousand dollars changed hands it was sewn back on again!
There was quiet around the table, I was hoping they would simply move on, no such luck, it was just the calm before the storm erupted with a burst of laughter!
Needless to say, I’ve been the butt of their jokes ever since…
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…
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.
Geez, those days were free and easy. You could head off on your bike with your mates in the morning, but 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?
(We’re fielding a lot of these questions at the moment…)
TomO tells me he’s starting to get the ‘twinge’ every so often, not that he quite described it that way – but as he put it…
“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.
Yep, he was nipping away, so I thought this is a good opportunity to reinforce the evils of smoking.
All due respect to smokers, your choice, but the evidence is out there.
Anyway…
I’m not sure I should be putting this in the adventure category, I’ll let you be the judge, but it was an adventure of sorts at the time.
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 and besides I wanted to avoid the peer pressure thing.
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 let’s just put it out there…
It was gross, yep, let me say it again, gross, but seemingly he was ‘clean’ as I’m still around to tell the yarn…
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, man, 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…
In between sets of squats, dead-lifts, and bench presses up in “The Shed” this morning, I was browsing Explorers web, a website dedicated to adventure, exploration, and expeditions.
I find it a very motivating and inspirational website to visit and it never ceases to amaze me the number of people who are out and about at this very moment, quietly achieving some incredible things.
There are polar expeditions, people on the high seas, mountaineering always figures very heavily, cycling is always represented exceptionally well, and even space exploration with a number of astronauts on the International Space Station…
But one that especially caught my attention was Carlos Soria, a Spaniard who has summitted eleven of the world’s fourteen 8,000 metre peaks and isn’t about to stop. His aim is to be the oldest person to have climbed all fourteen.
What makes it noteworthy is Carlos’s age, he is 73 years (young).
Carlos is headed to climb Dhaulagiri which is situated in Nepal and is the world’s seventh highest mountain peak standing at 8,167 metres (26,795 feet)
Very inspiring, and goes to the point of a quote I remind myself of frequently.
“If you didn’t know how old you are, how old would you be?”
It looks like age is no barrier to Carlos and it serves as a reminder to live life the way you want to, pursue your dreams and never let age get in the way, besides age is merely a ‘statistic’ that seemingly we all need to have…
And it doesn’t mean we should all be climbing 8,000 metre peaks when we are 70 years of age, just don’t let age be your barrier, your insurmountable peak, your glass ceiling…
The other day I wrote about an ocean paddle I had at ‘The Haven’ at Terrigal, just to the north of Sydney. It was a great day, but unfortunately there was little in the way of the ocean swells that can come that way, it was full of promise, but when we arrived there was very little happening…
The Skillion is a prominent feature in the area and is a promontory on the southern-end of Terrigal that commands excellent 360 degree views of the ocean and surrounding beach. It is also a popular whale watching spot and they are currently on their annual migration north…
We had a lot of fun out there, catching small swells and sprinting through to the beach on them, a great work-out for those who would like to give it a go!
And as I had the Go-pro running (don’t you love them!) I put some footage to one of my favourite Aussie rock-bands, TheBlack Sorrows.
And it makes a change to all the climbing I have been doing recently. Mind you there is plenty of that coming up very soon in New Zealand and I’m excited (very excited) about that!
I paddle three different kayaks, one is an Epic V10, which is a very fast boat, especially on flat water, but it is also designed to perform exceptionally well in larger ocean swells. It weighs in at 15 kilograms (33 lbs), is 6.5 metres in length (21.5 feet) and is made of fibreglass, carbon fibre, and Kevlar. And despite its narrow width, it is quite stable once you get used to paddling this type of craft.
The second is a Fenn XT, a great all-round boat that I have competed and paddled the Hawkesbury Classic Bridge to Bridge race in Sydney on. The race covers 111-kilometres and starts at 4pm on the last Saturday of October each year and runs through the night, supported by a cast of volunteers.
And if you haven’t paddled at night under a full moon, give it a go!
Starting as the sun slips lower on the western horizon the race usually has around 600 starters in all kinds of kayaks, and it is a great feeling covering those last few kilometres heading east watching the first strands of light appearing on the eastern horizon.
And after about 11 hours in the kayak you are suffering numb-bum… I’m calling that a technical kayaking term!
Anyway the Fenn XT is slightly heavier weighing in at 17 kilograms (38 lbs) and 5.8 metres in length (19 feet). It is full fibreglass and that is what makes it slightly heavier.
I usually use this for ocean paddling as it is more stable and much easier to get back on in an ocean swell than its bigger brother, the Epic V10.
And yes, I swim every so often when that rogue swell or wave hits you and catches you off guard! Although, when you’re a kilometre or more offshore the thought of a great white shark lurking kind of encourages you back on pretty quickly…
My other boat is a K1 race boat, very old, and I have kept it for TomO, my son, to use! They are typically very unstable due to the narrow width, but extremely fast in the right conditions, and with a good paddler.
The Landy – Out and About had many emails of support this morning. I was a little surprised to find the inbox filled with messages…
I was even more surprised that one was from the good people at WordPress.com informing me that I had been Freshly Pressed!
I felt humbled…
There are so many wonderful stories on WordPress, many inspirational, plenty that are motivational, and of course there are those that give you a chuckle just when you need it.
It would seem unfair that anyone of these stories is singled out…
In fact, I have spent so much time reading them recently that I have a pile of books that I have put off reading, gathering dust in the study…
So to all, I simply say thank you!
In part, my blog is about my journey to climb an 8,000 mountain peak, the trials and tribulations, the warts and all account, but it is also an opportunity for me to provide a window into an averageAussie bloke’s day-to-day life.
The commas may not always be in the right place, or the grammar might be left wanting at times, but hopefully the story shines through…
I chose to share my story because the dream I have, my goal of high altitude climbing frightens me a little.
Who am I that I should dream of such an undertaking?
And there is nothing wrong with being a little bit frightened, but I am determined to give it my best shot, approaching the challenge in a logical way and seeking the assistance of those who have been there, who have the skills, to learn those skills, but above all else to have fun trying…
Since putting my story out there I have received many words of encouragement. This encouragement is the energy, the fuel that powers me on…
Many people are on a journey, pursuing their dreams and it has given me great comfort to know that others are scaling their own peaks, whatever they might be. It is the collective sharing of these stories that demonstrates loudly that ordinary people are achieving great things each and every day.
The legendary mountaineer, Walt Unsworth summed up many of us when he opined…
But there are men for whom the unattainable has a special attraction. Usually they are not experts: their ambitions and fantasies are strong enough to brush aside the doubts which more cautious men might have. Determination and faith are their strongest weapons. At best such men are regarded as eccentric; at worst, mad…”
That first kilogram of weight loss, or a new personal best in a running race, overcoming adversity, or baking the best cake you have ever made, these are the dreams of others, and they are no less or more significant than others, but the one thing these dreams have in common is they provide a starting point for us all to start our journey…
And for many of us the greatest support we receive is from our families, encouraging us to find the greatness that lies within us all.
TomO – Welford National Park
In the words of someone who inspires me, TomO, our 12 year old son. On taking my place on the start line in the Coast-to-Coast adventure race across New Zealand earlier this year, he took my hand and simply said – Dad, just embrace it!
Today we celebrated Father’s Day in Australia, and we had an awesome day. With Janet, my partner, and our son TomO, we headed to the Central Coast region just to the north of Sydney for some fun at ‘The Haven’ – Terrigal.
Janet’s sister, Leah, and partner, Ray, and their beautiful son, Aubrey, joined us at Terrigal which is an old haunt of Ray’s.
Ray and I have decided to spend more time ocean paddling this spring and summer to help hone our white water skills. This will assist our chances in the Coast-to-Coast race across New Zealand next time we enter and hopefully give us an edge to improve our times from this year. It has a 67-kilometre kayak section, including around 35 kilometres of white water paddling along the Waimakariri River.
Ocean and surf paddling is a good way to assist in developing and advancing white water skills and is more accessible for us than white water kayaking. We have lots of beaches near-by, but very little white water other than the stadium that was used in the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games.
And Terrigal turned it on for us today, we are only two days into spring and the weather was fantastic, if this is what we can look forward to over the next few months then we will be in seventh heaven!
I gave my other kayak, a Fenn Mako XT, a run today, its first in months as it is a very stable boat to paddle. Although it is slightly shorter than my Epic kayak, which measures in at 6.5 metres long, and 42 centimetres wide. Ray was paddling his Beachcomber Barracuda…
There wasn’t much of a swell coming through the Haven and further offshore a strong southeasterly was making conditions choppy, but we made the most of what was on offer spending about three hours on the water.
Ray was eyeing the large hill that shelters the Haven from these winds, pointing out that the stairs leading to the look-out would be good for a cardio-workout and was booking me in for next Saturday morning at 6am. I was thinking of some ‘naughty’ words to use, but simply smiled and said…bring it on!
But hey, happy to put it in the diary as it is a great spot and we can finish off the session with a paddle in the kayaks, that will give me a chance to wreak my revenge on Ray…
And seeing TomO out on the paddle board today having fun in the sun whilst Janet and I looked on was the best father’s day present a dad could wish for…!
Out and About with the family, it doesn’t get much better than that…
Exercise, you have to love it, otherwise you end up hating it. I make it part of my daily routine and it is a lifestyle choice for our family…
I find it provides a great escape, a release valve to the daily grind and pressures we all face, and for me there is little better than cranking up the music in the shed and getting stuck into a workout session!
Most days I rise at 4.30am to row on my C2 rowing machine and I do some sort of resistance exercises using either body weight, or free weights later in the day. Usually I spend around two hours a day on exercise, depending on the program for any given week.
For strength I train as a power-lifter as I believe it strengthens not only the body, but also the mind.
My personal bests are listed here, and I am lifting not too far from those levels presently.
Squat – 175 kg (385 lbs.)
Bench Press – 152.5 kg (335 lbs.)
Dead-lift – 215 kg (475 lbs.)
But I might also grab a backpack, usually weighted at around 30 kilograms and go for a 10 kilometre walk up and down the hills near where I live. I have been increasing this in recent weeks to assist in the mountain climbing I will be doing over the next few months in New Zealand and later next year in Nepal.
In recent times I have been doing 50 & 100 kilometre walks, starting in the early hours of the morning and walking until I get to the finish, taking as little rest time as I can manage. Great for the mind, body, and soul…
And on the weekend I can usually be found kayaking on Narrabeen Lake located on Sydney’s northern beaches with my family. It is a great place to paddle, and nothing beats watching the sunset over the lake after a lazy summers day on the water.
This all fits perfectly with my pursuit of long distance adventure racing, and mountaineering goals I have set myself.
Earlier this year I competed in the Coast-to-Coast race in New Zealand. A 243 kilometre traverse across New Zealand’s South Island, and Southern Alps, running, cycling, and kayaking. A tough, but rewarding race.
On nutrition…
I think we over complicate it too much these days. For me it is meat and three vegies a couple of times a day, in addition to eggs, oats, and good quality milk. It is a simple formula really, eat more than you burn and you put weight on, eat less and it comes off…just stick to a good quality diet, it usually works well…
Well I gave away gyms many years ago, preferring to workout at home to my own music!
TomO, our 12-year-old son, popped up with a camera this morning during my session, which I did to a great Australian rock band, The Angels, and he started shooting some pictures for something to do, so here they are!
Apart from fitness, attitude, the right gear, I think what James highlights is that mountaineering, like many adventure pursuits, is about ‘risk mitigation’.
1.What age were you when you started climbing mountains?
I first started walking with my parents when we moved to Derbyshire in my early teens. We spent most weekends exploring the moors of the Peak District and later climbing on the grit-stone edges. My parents despite being active weren’t walkers so we started together really, learning to navigate and look after ourselves on the hill.
-What was the first mountain you climbed?
Most likely Kinder Scout in Derbyshire, but the ones I most vividly remember are Tryfan in North Wales and Ben Nevis in the Highlands. Tryfan was particularly exciting as it involved a lengthy scramble up the north ridge and I had never experienced anything like that before. Ben Nevis I also remember as we turned back from fairly close to the summit in bad weather, we were worried about the large cliffs of the north face in bad visibility. Turning…
I was mentioning the other day about how excited (very excited) I am about an upcoming trip I have to New Zealand. I depart in two weeks to further my climbing and mountaineering experience in preparation for some upcoming trips to New Zealand and the Himalayas in 2013.
Mt Aspiring, Southern Alps, New Zealand
I have a whole week climbing some smaller peaks in the Southern Alps of New Zealand’s south island, along with some ice-climbing, and we might even camp out if it isn’t too cold.
Anyway, over dinner last night, Janet, my partner, casually remarked to me…
“You don’t know how lucky you are.”
It is a favourite saying in her family, but usually reserved for occasions when you have been spoilt, been very spoilt!
I’ve heard it often!
Sensibly, I approached the comment with caution, not sure if this was serious or mischief, although odds-on it was mischief in the making. It wasn’t my birthday, it was unlikely I was getting a gift or present, besides with all the climbing gear I have bought recently even TomO, our son, remarked that I had already received my Christmas presents…for the next few years! (note to self, tell Janet about the new back-pack)
“Have you thought about all the activities and holidays you are about to embark on?”
I sensed where this was heading and there was a cheeky glint in both of their eyes, but in the interest of self-preservation I played dumb, which isn’t too hard for me!
You see, we were due to have a holiday in April this year on a tropical island located in the island nation of Fijiin the romantic South Pacific. As it turns out on the very island, Yasawa Island, that was featured in the movie Blue Lagoon. However, due to extreme weather it had to be postponed to this September as you could not even get to the small resort by boat or plane at the time.
The holiday was planned as a thank you to Janet from her boys for putting up with one who is rapidly approaching puberty and the other that hasn’t grown up yet…
I’m sure you’ve got it figured who’s who in the zoo here…
Anyway, this is the cool bit.
I head to New Zealand and the tail-end of its winter on a Friday. The day after I return I am participating in Tough Mudder, a 20-kilometre commando style course peppered with obstacles that you have to jump over, climb over, hurdle flaming hay bales, and even get zapped by 10,000 volts after being submerged in ice-cold water (is that supposed to be fun?) and then, get this, onto Fiji the very next day.
Mind you, our flight to Fiji is at silly-o’clock in the morning, and there is a chance, okay a big chance, there will be a few beers after Tough Mudder, either that or I’ll be in the back of an ambulance or something similar suffering third degree burns, or hypothermia…
And Janet added,
“if that isn’t enough when we get home from Fiji we are going to the Blue Mountains, just to the west of Sydney, to do some climbing and abseiling for a few days”…
I’m betting that while TomO and I climb, Janet will be putting the credit card through its paces in the quaint galleries and dress shops that are a part of the Blue Mountains scene…
And who would I be to complain!
Yes, I don’t know how lucky I am…What do you think?
I enjoy hearing and reading stories about people who are trying to change their lives, to get fit, to lose weight, to do something they have longed dreamed. Of goals that are set and milestones that are reached.
Accolades are usually not sought, momentous occasions in the journey often pass with little fanfare, the satisfaction gained enough to push them onwards, encouraging the next step.
It rarely comes easy…
As I rolled over and flicked the alarm off this morning, I lay back in the bed, tired, feeling like I should just roll the other way and forget about the rowing session. Surely it could wait until tonight, perhaps tomorrow morning? Anytime but now…
I’m betting we’ve all been there, I visit this speed-hump at least once a week and today was that day of the week.
And as I slowly drifted back into the dream-world I thought about my goals, what I want to achieve in mountaineering, even the possibility of competing in the Speight’s Coast to Coastagain this coming February, an adventure race that crosses New Zealand from west to east. It is a tough event, but I remembered how good I felt as I cycled through the city of Christchurch, the finish line almost in sight, bands playing, children clapping, men and women unknown cheering me to the finish line.
My tired legs pumped away, energised by the support, by the crowd that made me feel like a champion…
That was enough to break me free from my slumber, and I was up in the shed rowing within 15 minutes, and it was an awesome session.
Motivation, harness it however you can, reaching and achieving your goals is not an easy road, but you’re not alone…
The other day I was caught up in what seemed to be a never-ending stream of problems, you know the sort of day.
Nothing was going right, everyone and everything was conspiring against me. One problem after another, mounting, crushing, the world on my shoulders, leaving me pleading why was this happening to me?
In reality the world wasn’t going to come to an end, the sun had risen in the east, and in all likelihood it was going to set in the west, and a few deep breathes would probably have dispatched the garbage that was mostly going on inside my head to the trash…
But it did get me thinking why do we allow seemingly insignificant problems to morph into something that requires the Fantastic Four to resolve?
Human nature was my guess.
And then I recalled a quote by Frank MacAlyster, a member of the US Military’s elite Delta Force. Frank was involved in an operation to help free US hostages being held inside the US Embassy in Tehran, Iran, in the early 1980s.
As the doomed rescue attempt unfolded Frank was sound asleep in a US C-130 Hercules aircraft that was parked on the ground inside Iran.
He awoke to intense flames licking all around him, the aircraft was on fire.
Frank thought the aircraft was airborne, but the intensity of the fire left him no choice, he jumped from the plane without a parachute and went into a skydivers arch.
Of course he fell for only a fraction of a second before hitting the ground.
Frank had assessed his options and jumped. It must have taken a lot of courage. Death was almost a certainty, but he was buying time at least.
I reflected on this and thought that even under intense pressure Frank was still thinking through his problems he wasn’t letting the situation clutter his thinking, and by this time there were any number of problems to deal with. Of course the first was to survive.
What could I learn from that?
How could Frank’s experience help me as I pursue my goal of high altitude climbing, and how might it help others to deal with their own ‘burning aircraft’?
When asked a few days later by his Superior what he was going to do once he was out of the plane without a parachute, Frank replied…
“One problem at a time Sarge, one problem at a time.”
Narrabeen Lake, situated on the northern beaches of Sydney, Australia, is a beautiful spot by the ocean.
It is mecca for kayakers, windsurfers, and paddle board riders, a place where you can spend a lazy Sunday afternoon with family and friends under a shady tree…
With very few power-boats on the lake, which is about 10 kilometres in circumference, it is my choice for kayaking and makes for a great change from the daily rows on my C2 rowing machine, although I did get a rowing session in earlier in the day – just call me a creature of habit.
Today started on the chilly side, but warmed into a beautiful day full of sunshine and a cloudless blue sky. A day to good to waste so Janet, my partner, packed a picnic lunch into ‘The Landy’ and we headed to the lake for a training session, a bit of fun, and quite a few laughs with our friends.
TomO, our 12 year-old son, was waiting in ambush, as usual, at the end of my paddle, ready to toss me out of the kayak, but he was a bit slow off the mark and missed his chance today. Just as well, as the water is still quite cold…
Narrabeen Lake, Sydney, Australia
Be sure to stop by the lake if you are visiting Sydney, and if you want to get out on the lake, drop in to see Matt Blundell, a world class kayaker, at his boat shed, Prokayaks. Matt will hire you a kayak, or paddle board and get you underway…
There is nothing better than kicking back and watching the sun settle behind the hills casting a golden hue over the lake, pure magic!
Well to be honest, most days excite me, perhaps some more than others, but today I booked a week of mountaineering in the Southern Alps of New Zealand leaving in two weeks time, and I’m really excited about the prospect of getting out and about…
Hinchinbrook Island, Australia
I was intending to walk the Thornsborne Trail on Hinchinbrook Island, in North Queensland as it has been on my list of walks to do for as long as I can remember. However, each time I have planned to walk it something else has come along to interrupt the plan. Usually something that I have had no control over.
I’ve often joked that there is an unknown force at work that prevents me from going. Perhaps it is saving me from the jaws of one of those pre-historic reptiles, the crocodile, that inhabit the region, but I digress…
I already have a trip booked to climb Mt Aspiring located in the Southern Alps of New Zealand this coming January. But January seems so far away, so I thought, why not give those hand-crafted mountaineering boots I just purchased a run for their money instead of walking the Thornsborne Trail?
Yep, I had no trouble rationalising that one in my own mind.
A quick call to our travel agent, was followed up with a call to the wonderful team at Adventure Consultants, located at Wanaka on New Zealand’s South Island, to confirm I was on my way.
New Zealand is recognised around the world as a great training ground for mountaineering, and although most peaks are only around 3,000 metres in height, they are similar in ruggedness and valley to summit altitude gains as the higher peaks in the Himalayas.
Southern Alps, New Zealand
The week of guiding and instruction, the Seven Summits Course, is designed for people like me who are looking to progress to high altitude climbing, to gain exposure to snow camping, improve on crampon and ice axe skills, master ladder crossings over crevasses, along with other general mountaineering skills.
In Australia, it is more difficult to gain this type of exposure.
I have elected to undertake as much tuition as I possibly can, especially in the earlier stages of my journey to Cho Oyu, and Beyond, as this will hopefully make me safer on the mountain, and give me a strong base to build from and to assist in achieving my goals.
One area I will be focussing heavily on is my decision making skills, and I’ll be getting the team at Adventure Consultants to put me to the test on this aspect…
And I still need to break the news to Janet, my partner, that there is plenty more gear I need to buy before I go.
Mind you, Janet has not been watching the bank balance, but has asked only one thing of me, and that is to be safe at all times, reminding me there is always another day.
Her words of wisdom constantly echo in my mind, “summiting is optional, getting down is mandatory.”
I’ve just spent the past four days with the team from the Australian School of Mountaineering, ASM, learning more about rock-climbing and advancing my rope handling skills.
This was done in the Blue Mountains, just to the west of Sydney, a place where I am finding myself with increasing frequency of late, and not surprisingly as there is plenty of opportunity to hone my abseiling and climbing skills on the abundance of cliff faces in the region.
And what better place to do it than one of the world’s great mountain heritage areas.
Whilst my ultimate goal is high-altitude climbing, there are basic skills that can’t be practiced enough, much like military drilling, to ensure that the skills are second nature and can be performed under extreme conditions. I have been placing a lot of focus on rescue skills, after all, it is good fun until something goes wrong, and whilst there is always a chance of that how you respond will have a great bearing on the outcome…
That isn’t to say it shouldn’t be fun, and when I embarked on this journey I made a promise to myself that if I stopped having fun it is game over and time to do something else…
And we did have a lot of fun, and Shane, who instructed me on my advanced abseiling and rope rescue course, laughed as we welcomed each other and asked whether I can tie my shoelaces yet? Sadly, I had to tell him I couldn’t, but I had mastered quite a few other knots.
There were three other people on the first two days of the course as it has various stages that can be done separately, and with some time due off from work, I decided to spend four days in the mountains to cover as much as possible.
Our climbing was done in the spectacular Mt York area, not too far from the small township of Mt Victoria, against a very scenery backdrop.
The course began in the headquarters of ASM located in Katoomba covering important aspects such as safe movement on and around the cliffs.
On the first day we undertook a series of small climbs at Mt York, in near freezing conditions. These climbs left me wondering what they call larger climbs!
It was great to be on the rock-face, improving skills under the guidance of our very experienced instructors, and there were even some moments where I happily found myself outside my comfort zone!
Our second day was spent entirely on the rock-face, climbing and learning, and we managed around five climbs of varying degrees of difficulty.
It was nice to have the weekend pass knowing that I still had another two days in the mountains learning and climbing. I did this with Nathan, another ASM instructor who was covering important areas like route selection, hazard assessment, and protection systems. We did some revision work on rescues using Z-drags, and abseiling an injured climber in tandem. I hope the need never arises, but it is important to be proficient just in case either is called upon as a rescue tool.
We were greeted with fantastic weather for the final day which was spent setting up climbs, climbing, and moving on to another climb.
It was quite an exhilarating weekend of climbing, learning new skills, getting outside the comfort zone and just having fun out and about. I can’t wait to get back out there for another crawl up the wall.
As for Dope on a Rope, let’s just say I’ve improved greatly!!
Hands up if you think one of the best parts of camping and being in the outdoors is camp food.
On our travels we try and cook around an open fire using our cast-iron camp oven at every opportunity…
It is a way of bringing us all together at the end of a day, to talk about what we did, our experiences, and usually the only sounds you hear are the crackle of twigs burning, of birds heading to their favourite roost for the night, and of laughter, friendly banter being exchanged around the fire…
Janet, my partner, is a wonderful cook, and without fail she will cook up a batch of scones or a damper in the camp oven to be devoured with lashings of butter and golden syrup much to the delight of all…
Looking back at old photographs is like opening a time capsule, you just never know what you are going to find, and usually there are one or two little gems to bring a smile to your face.
I was at my partner’s parents home recently, Clare and Archie who are 83 and 98 years old, and over a cup of tea we were flicking through books of old photographs. The themes varied from trips overseas, the children growing up, and of Archie’s childhood in India.
You could pick any photograph and Archie would narrate a rich account of when it was taken, and the story behind those who were in it. And there were photographs of Clare’s childhood days, growing up in far western Queensland on the family’s sheep property, and of her days at boarding school in Charters Towers.
The conversation turned to our upcoming adventures, and my journey to climb an 8,000 metre peak close to where Archie grew up. Over the years I have listened to the many stories of Archie’s trips to Darjeeling, situated in the foothills of the Himalaya’s, and in later years of visits both he and Clare made back to Calcutta.
One story is about a mountaineering expedition group who turned up at the offices of James Wright and Company, General Merchants, the family business in Calcutta. The suave and handsome couple were in a rather irate mood as they stepped out of the taxi, demanding to know why they had not been met at the ship upon their arrival. Being general merchants, Archie and his father dealt in all kind of goods, and were the agent’s in India for the popular drink Ovaltine.
“These mountaineers were here to climb Mt Everest and they were going to drink Ovaltine all the way to the top, extolling its virtues to the world.”
It had all been arranged in England prior to their departure and there was surprise and indignation that they had not been afforded the courtesies expected upon their arrival. They even had a copy of the telegram from the Head of the company that made Ovaltine in England informing of their visit.
This was a gentlemanly age and young Archie arranged for the expedition to be put up at a first class hotel where they could rest after their long sea voyage, and ahead of their attempt to climb Mt Everest.
And rest and avail themselves they did indeed…
Unfortunately, there was to be no attempt on Mt Everest as the mountaineers were well practiced con people. After spending a number of nights in the luxury of the first class hotel, taking advantage of the young Fawthrop’s generous hospitality, they disappeared into the night, leaving Archie with an expensive hotel bill and the need to provide an account to his father of how he had been done by a slick group of con artists’.
But he could be forgiven, after all Ovaltine accompanied Sir Edmund Hilary on his ascent of Mt Everest with Tenzing Norgay in 1953, and the company went on to sponsor Chris Bonnington’s 1975 Everest expedition.
And speaking of Tenzing Norgay, as we continued our journey through the albums one particular photograph caught my attention, a black and white snapshot of Clare and Archie, and I was sure it was Tenzing Norgay, the famous mountaineer, standing beside them.
On a visit to Darjeeling, Archie and Clare met and spoke with Tenzing, a remarkable and quietly spoken man, whilst dining at the Darjeeling Club.
TomO, our son, was very excited at the discovery, a link to where we will travel next year when I attempt to climb three 6,000 metre peaks, Lobuche East, Island Peak, and Pokalde, all situated not too far from Mt Everest.
“Was the Ovaltine story and the photograph a sign-post on our own journey, a connection to the region brought about from Archie’s younger days? In the least, it enriches the experience for us…”
And as I climb in the Himalaya’s Archie’s Ovaltine story will be sure to put a smile on my face, warming me like a hot cup of Ovaltine on a bleak winter’s night…
There was a hint of an Indiana Jones Adventure in the making as we stood at the top of Nellies Glen, the sky darkened by a moonless night as we readied ourselves to go in search of…
“The Exotic Treasures of The Temple of Baal”
Fellow adventurer, Ray Tong and I set off in near sub-zero temperatures along an old bridle track, The Six-Foot Track, taking our first steps cautiously to ensure we didn’t slip on the ice covering the ground. Established in 1884, it is a well trodden path linking the township of Katoomba in the Blue Mountains to the picturesque Jenolan Caves to its west.
The 45 kilometre track initially traverses majestic forests and national parks deep in the Megalong Valley and is often trekked as a 2 or 3-day walk. Although, every March there is a six-foot track marathon run and the front-runners will complete the distance in around 3 to 4 hours despite the mountainous terrain.
Angel’s Wing, Temple of Baal, Jenolan Caves
The Jenolan Caves, containing some of the world’s most spectacular calcite crystal formations, have been entrancing visitors since 1838 and are the world’s oldest, dating back over 340 million years.
The glorious Orient Cave and the glittering Temple of Baal are indisputably among the world’s best…
Our route took us along fire trails and well-worn tracks in the Megalong Valley, an area steeped in early Australian settler history, before heading up on to Black Mountain Range, a tough section as the route winds its way up the mountain.
When the route was first surveyed in 1884 it took the exploration party around 11 days to make their way through the rugged Australian bush. We had planned on around 11-12 hours of walking to cover the distance to the caves carrying 15 kilogram packs.
And whilst that was the plan, we were content with just getting out and about in the mountains on another adventure.
The area is important to the Gungungurra people who moved throughout the various valleys in the region. The track even passes the site of the last recorded Gungungurra corroboree and a cricket ground where an all-aboriginal team played the Megalong settlers in the 1890s.
“And it would hardly be an adventure worthy of Indiana Jones unless there was a swing bridge of some kind along the way”…
Baz & The Swing Bridge
An interesting feature on the track is Bowtell’s Swing Bridge, a suspension bridge over the Cox’s River that was constructed by the army in 1992. It is used as an alternative crossing when the Cox’s River is too high to cross safely. It is such a beautiful spot that we were tempted to set up camp, but we were still a long way from our destination so we settled on a break to take in the peace and solitude that the flowing river brought.
The area teemed with wildlife, kangaroos feeding on fresh green shoots of grass, and Gang-Gang cockatoos, squawking, as though heralding our passage through the tall standing gum trees.
As we made our way up along the Black Mountain fire trail the silence of the Australian bush was punctuated every so often by motor-cycle riders who use the area for recreational riding, and occassionally, a four-wheel drive vehicle.
And as the sun lowered in the western sky, disappearing behind the mountains, and the air cooled, the Stately Caves House came into view, a most welcome sight after 11 hours of trekking.
Caves House
We took a look around the caves area and were later met by our families before heading to the small rural township of Oberon, situated about 30 kilometres away, where we were able to relax over a beer, reflecting on our journey, and…
The Three Sisters, Katoomba, New South Wales, Australia.(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Last weekend I headed to the mountains for a couple of days of abseiling and climbing with the team from the Australian School of Mountaineering (ASM) at Katoomba.
The setting was the spectacular Blue Mountains, an internationally recognised World Heritage Area where you can bush walk, mountain bike, abseil, climb and canyon in any number of spectacular locations, and at night sit around a log fire in one of the many inviting hotels, or bed and breakfast establishments. Unless you choose to camp out in the elements, and there are plenty of places where you can do that, all within two hour’s drive from the centre of Sydney.
Janet, my partner, and two of her girlfriends joined me for the weekend, although they were there to support the local economy in the numerous dress shops and art and craft boutiques that are part of the make-up of the small towns and villages in the region, not to dangle from the end of a rope!
The weekend was a follow-up to some recent training I undertook and an opportunity to learn more advanced skills. The first day was spent learning about gear selection and fitting, rigging of suitable anchor systems, hazard identification and avoidance, self-belaying techniques, and basic rescue and self rescue systems. Whilst there was some theory involved all the training was on the cliffs, and I was joined by two other people from Sydney who came to brush up on some abseiling skills learnt from boy-scout days.
Carrington Hotel (Photo credit: tolomea)
After a tiring first day I stopped by at the Carrington Hotel, a beautifully renovated Art Deco style hotel in the centre of Katoomba, to meet with the girls who were strategically seated in the couches around a log-fire sipping on champagne. Later, we went to a local restaurant, Avalon, situated in an old picture theatre, where we had a few good laughs as the girls discussed their day, and purchases. Although I did keep quiet about the two new ropes I purchased as I’m sure I would have been subjected to some friendly banter, especially after recently writing about their shopping exploits!
The second day was spent on more specialised rope rescue skills, tips and tricks that you need to know if you are going to dangle from a rope down a cliff face. And this included the use of mechanical ascenders and prusiks, and importantly, an improvised casualty evacuation method using Z–drags. These skills will form an important of my tool kit as I make my journey to Cho Oyu and Beyond, as much of the mountaineering I will be doing in the next two years will be glacier based and have the ever present risk of crevasses, so learning to rescue oneself from deep within is important. But like many things, this is all about practice, and you need to take the military approach to learning, just keep on drilling it until you can do it backwards in your sleep!
But alas, despite the serious side to the course it is supposed to be fun, otherwise why would you be doing it? And we did have lots of fun, and lots of laughs. Although the girls were heard to quip that how could anything be fun if it didn’t involve shopping!
Shane, ASM Instructor
Shane, our instructor from ASM, has a strong climbing background and also instructs at a local college on Outdoor and Recreational activities. He was able to impart his knowledge with ease and in a way that could be readily absorbed. This was great as there is a fair amount of stress happening as you are trying to self-rescue yourself from half-way down a cliff. I’ll be doing some more climbing with Shane in two weeks time which will give me the opportunity to hone in and practice the skills learnt this weekend.
And we had spectacular weather for the two days, a little cool at times when the sun slipped behind a cloud, but from our position at Mt York we were sheltered from most of the wind and the view was spectacular from our cliff-top perch – I couldn’t help but think, you wouldn’t be dead for quids!
Dope on a rope?
On the Rope, Mt York, Blue Mountains
Well there were times I was feeling that way as I worked to master the necessary skill level with what seemed like a fist full of thumbs, but hanging-out on a rope is a blast and I can’t wait to be back out there again!
Okay, there are many pursuits that could be classed as risky, dangerous, some more so than others, but really, it still comes down to one’s perspective, doesn’t it?
So Janet, my partner, and I were having a bit of a debate about this earlier today ahead of a trip we are making to the Blue Mountains, just to the west of Sydney this weekend.
And I will set the scene here, Janet is no wallflower, together we have flown aeroplanes, jumped out of them, abseiled off the side of the AMP building in Sydney side-by-side, and even rafted down some wild rivers in Papua New Guinea – so there’s no doubting she’s up for adventure and happy to balance risk against outcomes.
So when I said to her that a weekend of shopping in the Blue Mountains with her two girlfriends, we’ll just call them Kimbalee and Lisa to protect their identities, is risky and dangerous it seemingly fired her up a touch. It actually made me chuckle a bit, because it was a bit like when you were a teenager, you know, when you got sprung by your parents, as though they were mind readers, before you did whatever it was that you weren’t supposed to, and left you with no option but to go on the defensive…
“How’s that she asked? And besides, aren’t you climbing and abseiling off some rock walls isn’t that a little risky?”was the retort…
And true, I will be doing that, thankfully spared from being dragged from boutique to boutique, art gallery to art gallery, mind you, some of the art galleries are very nice, and the prospect of being in the company of these three attractive young ladies was pleasing, but I was looking forward to the outdoor activities I had planned.
I thought I’d better choose my words carefully here because as lovely natured as Janet is, she could stare down a stampede of cattle at a hundred paces.
Well I suggested these girls, Kimbalee and Lisa, were seasoned shoppers, fearless and old-school who live to the creed “if you can’t decide which one you like, buy the lot”. In the right setting that might be okay, our bank balance might just scrap through relatively unscathed, but these boutiques were high fashion, and that’s before we get to the galleries…
Sensing she had me on the ropes, of which there was a certain amount of irony, and with a glint in her eye she said…
“But haven’t you always said that if you are going to do something, learn to do it properly, and then go out and practice it until you are an expert?”
True I thought, and about this time I was wishing I hadn’t tried to be so smart, and had just gone about my daily routine without throwing out the bait, so to speak.
I should have seen it coming…
“So how much did you say those climbing boots are, you know the ones you’ll need for New Zealand, $700, $800, I’ve never bought a pair of shoes that have cost anywhere near that amount”. Was that a smile I detected, a cheeky little grin, as she turned away slightly?
I was looking for that big hole to swallow me up, and started to understand just how a stampede of cattle might just be feeling right now, stared down by Janet.
Yes risk and danger, it’s there wherever we look, in whatever we do, and as I climb and descend tomorrow, I’m sure that the klinking sound of carabineers on carabineers will be equalled by the ringing sound of a cash register playing the tune of three wonderful lady’s having fun, and of course, giving their cards a workout…
You’ve got to love the Aussie Shed, a beacon in a sea of green grass that is usually found near the back fence on any Australian suburban house block. I love my shed and even though it was designed to house a couple of cars, and all that stuff that you accumulate over the years, you know, the Christmas presents that you couldn’t stand but didn’t have the heart to send to the refuse tip, they all invariably end up hidden away in a dark corner of the shed.
As a long-term fitness junkie, my shed houses surfboards, kayaks, a Concept C2 rower, and my weight-lifting racks and associated equipment, as well as numerous bikes collected over the years. Not surprisingly there is a small collection of old Landrover parts and camping equipment. And yes, the odd Christmas present that seemed like a good idea to someone long-ago.
Mind you, not all Aussie sheds house exercise equipment, unless of course you count the bar fridge in the corner which is standard equipment. Often you’ll see the men-folk doing some elbow bending as they drink a toast to the day passed, usually just around the time the sun is going down over the yard-arm. And like a bunch of Cockatoos, high on the fermenting nectar of fruit consumed under a hot Aussie sun, the squawking tends to increase as the amber fluid flows. And you can be sure a fair amount of advice is passed around, an exchange of ideas, thoughts, happenings, and the odd joke or two. A bit like Speakers Corner where everyone is given a chance to say their bit, to tell their yarn in a not too serious way.
But I’m digressing…Each morning around 4.30am, or silly-o’clock as Janet, my partner suggests, I make the journey out the back door and up the driveway to the shed. Even the dogs, Milo and Jack, can’t be bothered to get out of their beds, preferring to wave me through, especially on these colder winter mornings. Although, usually after about 30 minutes or so one of them will wander up to see what is going on, but I suspect if they could speak they’d actually be asking for a feed, seemingly oblivious to anything else, such is a dog’s life. Depending on the day I’ll either pursue my strength training, or use the rower for my daily cardio fix and although I would prefer to be out on the water kayaking it isn’t always convenient during the week, so the rowing machine is a great substitute.
I must confess upfront to being an early morning person, I guess you’d have to be to manage a 4.30am start each day, but it does have its advantages. In between the clanging of weight plates being moved, or interval sets on the rower, I can stand outside in the pre-dawn silence and marvel at the stars in the sky, the wondrous universe with you at its centre, once a month watch a full moon setting in the western sky, and if I’m lucky even a shooting star to ponder a thought on.
And what of the neighbours I hear you ask, what if they don’t share my love of the early morning? I must say it is hard not to be tempted into playing some heavy metal, AC/DC or Led Zeppelin (okay I’m showing my age here!) to help the mood and give that much needed pump for the session. But alas, it is mostly done in silence, apart from a moan or groan under the weight of a squat bar, or the last 500 metres on the rower. But fair to say, if I head up for an afternoon session, which is more often than not, it is always accompanied by some loud rock or heavy metal music. I’ve always said that Theo, our next door neighbour, is a closet heavy metal fan, so the relationship has never been strained, he doesn’t always say much mind you, but smiles a lot, so maybe he’s actually deaf. And I’m frequently visited by Janet, and TomO, our son, during these sessions, which is always welcome, mind you there would never be any chance of that happening in the morning, in fact I don’t think they know what 4.30am actually looks like.
There was a suggestion not too long ago that maybe the shed could be converted and upgraded to have a loft, an upstairs area where TomO and his mates could hang out, maybe even move into as he advances in his teenage years. You know, a brand new building without the cracks that have accumulated over the years, possibly from too much heavy metal music resonating through the walls, or perhaps just cracking up from the tall stories that have echoed from within – but it just wouldn’t be cricket, and besides where would I put the bar fridge?
No thanks, I like my shed just the way it is, and as the sun slowly sinks below the yard arm in a brilliant display of burnt orange…Cheers, from the shed!
‘The Landy’ was packed, the Tvan attached for its first extended trip, and we were ready to head-off on another northern adventure and whilst it seemed like an eternity since our last trip north, in reality it had only been twelve months…
Thomas,Tomo (the walking hat,) gave the grandparents a lasting hug, Janet was seen giving last minute instructions to Milo, the wonder dog, and was heard to mumble something about making more sense out of Milo then she does me, most of the time anyway, and I did a final check to make sure the Tvan was in fact attached… and with the usual puff of smoke The Landy chugged to life, seemingly to the annoyance of a flock of cockatoos’ nestling in the tree opposite who protested in a most vocal way.
The drudgery of the freeway to the north-west, the escape route from suburbia, soon gave way to the foothills of the Blue Mountains and as we settled into the dawning moments of our sojourn we began to reflect on what it must have been like for the early explorers’ as they made their way westward, journeying on foot, horseback, and bullock dray. These days the trek over the mountains is done mostly in the relative comfort of a modern vehicle, although Janet was heard to whisper, under hushed breathe, something about there being little difference between a bullock dray, and The Landy.
Progressing westward my thoughts crossed to the characters that have passed this way in days long gone. Who were they, what took them this way, and did they find what they were looking for? Of course the obvious and famous were at fore of mind, visionaries such as Blaxland, Lawson, and Wentworth, three intrepid and famous explorers who helped open the way west. But what of the others, people who have lived in this rugged land, those who visited fleetingly, those who never left…
With this in mind I vowed to spend time looking for those characters that have enriched the Australian Outback, who have helped define Australia’s identity, and that would mean visiting the social centre of many towns and communities we would pass through, the local pub – all in the name of research, of course…
The first day was spent travelling on the black-top via the towns of Lithgow, Ilford, Mudgee, Dubbo, Narromine and finally to Nyngan. Passing Narromine I recounted it is often referred to as the town of Champions being the birthplace of Olympian Melinda Gainsford-Smith, and cricketer Glenn McGrath. On a previous trip to the Corner Country we stayed at the caravan park located on town’s substantial airfield. The airfield, established after World War 1, is home to the oldest rural aero club in Australia and was used as a training ground for RAAF pilots in World War 2. Over the years it has counted Charles Kingsford-Smith, Charles Ulm, Chuck Yeager, Nancy Bird Walton, and Barry O’Malley as visiting aviators.
In 1835, explorer, Major Mitchell was the first European to document a journey along the Bogan River, describing the area around Nyngan as ‘a long pond, with many birds, ducks, and brolgas’. The local aboriginal word ‘Nyngan’ is said to mean ‘long pond of water’. In 1882 the town’s site was surveyed, and buildings from an earlier settlement at Canonba 30 kilometres away were moved to the present Nyngan Township.
Many will remember the notorious floods in 1990 that focused the attention of Australians’ on this rural township. Despite the laying of 260,000 sandbags around the town, it was to no avail and the entire population was evacuated to safety by army helicopters. And one of the helicopters used in the evacuation is usually located in the town’s main street, standing as a monument to the work it performed in helping this community, but for reasons unknown it wasn’t there on this occasion. Tomo has had countless photographs taken with it, and we had hoped to get another for the collection before heading to the local RSL to dine and drink a toast to our first night on tour.
Early morning Nyngan
Henry Lawson wrote (The Paroo River 1893), “Tis said the land out west is grand! I do not care who says it”. And with that resonating in my head we set off towards the Paroo River area and a camp near Hungerford in the Currawinya National Park.
Heading north along the straight road to Bourke we passed the small township of Byrock, a favourite place of ours, and we stopped for morning tea, but I’ll write more on Byrock later as we will be returning this way. In fact, we had planned to head further west, before turning northwards, taking in Tilpa, the Corner Country and Innamincka, but we decided against it due to the flooding in the region over the past couple of months. Mind you, we needed little encouragement to visit Hungerford and Currawinya.
Bourke has a very colourful history, and was once a major river port, and much of this is still visible today. You only need to trace the Darling River to see what a major feat it must have been for the river boats to ply their trade along its course. Henry Lawson once wrote, “If you know Bourke, you know Australia’’ and whilst we didn’t spend a lot of time here on this occasion it is easy to see what he was saying.
Of course, we’ve always said that when you cross the Darling River you’re in the outback and with that in mind we cheered in the outback as we crossed the river at North Bourke. Tomo had bought a new hat before leaving Sydney, so he christened it into the outback here! Along the dusty road we gave up counting the emus’ after a while, they were prolific!
Crossing the border at Hungerford
Pulling up at the dog-proof fence at Hungerford, Tomo jumped out of The Landy and did the honour of waving us through before running the last 100 metres or so towards the pub, The Royal Mail which was once a Cobb & Co staging post. Now the grandmothers may not approve, but Tomo has been a frequent visitor, with his parents of course, and we wasted little time in quenching our thirst after the long drive from Nyngan.
Even Henry Lawson has enjoyed a drink at the ‘Royal’ although his description of the township in ‘While the Billy Boils’ upon his arrival was far less enthusiastic then ours. And we were pleased to meet up with the publicans Mock and Sherrie, who had been here on previous occasions and it was Sherrie who had placed a photo of Tomo, the walking hat on the wall of the pub after a previous visit.
Tomo in the Royal Mail
We planned to spend a couple of nights in Currawinya, and fortunately we were be able to visit the lakes, Lake Numalla, and Lake Wyara as the roads had just been opened after extensive flooding. Our first night was spent around the campfire eating one of Janet’s famous dampers and although it wasn’t a particularly cold night it was very pleasant sitting around the fire. We did throw in the yabby traps, but to little avail.
The dawn broke through the camper trailer signaling the start of a fine day, and one in which we would visit the lakes. After breakfast I headed off on the bike and under peddle power made my way towards the lakes, albeit in a round-a-bout way. Seemingly I did not take the correct turn and ended up close to the town before realising my error, and this added about 20 kilometres to my ride.
Janet and Tomo became a little worried when they didn’t pass me in The Landy as they made their way, and came back to look for me. I was very thankful for that as I was running out of water and needed something to eat, but finally I made it to Lake Numalla after riding about 70 kilometres in total. And I felt every single corrugation and made a note to myself to always run correct tyre pressures in The Landy to avoid making more corrugations!
Lake Numeral
After a couple of nights in Currawinya we bid Hungerford farewell until next time, and headed towards Thargomindah and the night’s destination a camp by the waterhole at Noccundra
It has been a while since we had passed this way and it was nice to reacquaint ourselves with the region. Thargomindah was the site of Australia’s first hydro-electricity system, driven by artesian water pressure and we stopped by to show Tomo as he was much younger on our last visit.
After spending some time in town we headed west towards Noccundra which is about 140 kilometres from Thargomindah. The last time we camped here it was on a ‘boys’ trip, two adults, and three boys under seven years old, and we experienced a very heavy dust storm. And previous to that, Janet and I flew here in our Piper Arrow aircraft, Foxtrot-Tango-Hotel, following a flying trip to the Gulf, landing right behind the pub. And I must say the airstrip is in much better condition today than it was back then!
The pub is built on Nockatunga Station and the town was established in 1882. It even has a link to the explorer Leichardt, with members of Andrew Hume’s expedition to find survivor’s from Leichardt’s 1848 expedition perishing from thirst to the west of Noccundra. We camped by the water-hole and enjoyed a warm shower and visit to the pub, before settling in for the night, with half the world’s population of field mice. Outback Australia is experiencing a plague of them presently and I awoke to one ‘snuggling’ up to me at around 1.30am in the morning. Janet was quite controlled and after about 10 minutes of frantic activity it jumped into her shoe making it easy to man handle it back outside.
We had a rather relaxed start to the next day as it wasn’t a long trip to Innamincka and a camp alongside the Cooper Creek. The road has changed significantly since our last visit and contains a lot of blacktop, a result of the substantial oil and gas development in the region.
We stopped at the Dig Tree situated on Nappa Merrie Station in far-western Queensland on our way and had lunch. Of course the story of Burke and Wills is well known, and much text has been written over the years, some favourable, and other less so, but it is hard to not be in awe of what they achieved at the time.
The Dig Tree
The name Innamincka will be very familiar with outback travellers as today the township, which has grown in size since our last visit, is reliant on the tourist trade that is ushered in by the cooler months of winter. It might have almost been inevitable that the Innamincka region played a substantial role in many of the early explorations of the interior. The fact that it is on the way from east and south to the unknown north and northwest, with a virtually permanent water source, guaranteed the arrival of a number of expeditions to Inamincka. Charles Sturt became the first European to set eyes on the wetlands in 1844-45, and it was only fifteen years later that Burke and Wills died here. A fact that is hard to understand given the supply of water, and presumably food that would have been available to them.
We camped along the Cooper Creek just out of town, and we managed to put on a roast lamb dinner in the camp oven, washed down by a couple of beers, and in the company of some other travellers.
Apart from tourism, the oil and gas industry is playing a significant role in the recent development of this region, and this is quite evident on the drive north from Innamincka. We made an early start the next morning as we decided to head to Birdsville in one day to enable us to stay a couple of nights in the town.
The Landy crossed the flooded causeway and headed northwards, but not before Janet and Tomo managed to get in a coffee and hot chocolate at the pub while The Landy was being fuelled. I must say I was a touch disappointed to see the pub going a little up market and in the process losing some of its rustic appeal, a product of changing times and the need to cater to a new age of tourism, I guess…
The Landy crosses the causeway at Innamincka
We had to turn off the Cordillo Downs road and head towards the border crossing at Arrabury as the northern section of the road was closed due to flooding which was of little concern for us as we had not been along the northern section of the Arrabury road previously and were looking forward to it. We passed Haddon’s Corner, the intersection of the Queensland and South Australian State border and truly, this is big sky country.
Big Sky Country
We encountered a slow trip along the Birdsville Development road into Birdsville from Betoota as it had become quite muddy due to a thunder storm depositing a significant amount of water on it the previous day. Needless to say The Landy was covered in the red stuff when we arrived at our camp alongside the Diamantina River.
And if it is characters you are looking for in Birdsville then there is only one place to head, The Birdsville Pub. In fact, speaking of characters, Tomo, the walking hat, found his first love here on a visit in 2003 at the tender age of three, oddly enough the daughter of the local policeman. And cross-my heart Tomo, this is the last time I’ll recount the story, well at least on this trip… we enjoyed a great meal and a number of beers before retiring for a very restful sleep.
The sun doesn’t appear over the eastern horizon until after 7 o’clock in far Western-Queensland during the winter months, and what a blessing, and change, to our normal routine at home. So it was another lazy start to the day before Tomo stirred us into getting up to greet the day, breakfast, and a walk around town.
And still speaking of characters, a visit to Birdsville would not be complete without stopping by the Working Museum which is owned and operated by John and Judy Menzies. The couple have collected a vast amount of gadgetry and items relating to life in the outback and brought it to life in a comprehensive and interesting way. John’s guided tour is well worth taking just to see him talk with such great passion of the items he has collected and restored.
Unfortunately, John is apparently closing the museum in ‘about’ three months time as he and Judy are ready to retire to Isisford and they have been unable to find a buyer to take over… this will be a great loss to Birdsville and everyone who has met John will attest to that.
Before our walk around town Tomo and I set a couple of yabby traps down on the Diamantina River earlier, and typically, the yabby traps were empty apart from one lone yabby that was spared the pot on the basis it would be little more than an appetiser for one of us.
Tomo the yabby hunter
After dinner by the Diamantina River we headed to the pub for a couple of beers with the gathering locals and fly-in aviators. Tomo had made himself acquainted with a number of the commercial pilots who were either doing tours out of Birdsville, or flying in tourists. As we sat at the bar I gave up counting the number of pilots who walked past and said g’day Tomo, seemingly he knew them all, and had in fact managed to sit in the cockpit of about half of the planes parked on the tarmac.
Another character we were able to catch up with was Henry, a local boy who Tomo met on the infamous night that he chased the policeman’s daughter around the front bar (or was it she who did the chasing?). Henry was playing pool with his mother, Fiona, a number of locals, and the aviation fraternity. So we joined in, and Tomo played his first game of pool.
Reluctantly, we left Birdsville after a couple of fun days to continue our northward journey and today we were heading to Boulia. We had been looking forward to travelling north along the Bedourie road as we hadn’t been that way previously, and a highlight was crossing the Eyre Creek, which was teeming with bird-life and had not long been re-opened after flooding in the area.
Cuttaburra Crossing Eyre Creek,
Travelling north we came across a memorial to WJS (Will) Hutchison who died nearby from drowning in 1920. The memorial was placed by the Coober Pedy historical society only a couple of years ago. Five years prior to his tragic drowning, and as a lad of 14, Will, along with his father discovered the first opal near Carryingallama Creek in SouthAustralia, it became known as Stuart’s Opal Range, later to be renamed Coober Pedy. Today, Will is recognised as the founder of Coober Pedy!
Will Hutchison Memorial
We had always heard Bedourie referred to in glowing terms from other travellers, but somehow we had by-passed the town previously. It is now the Diamantina Shire’s administrative centre and, not surprisingly, has a ‘Royal Hotel’. The Royal was built in the 1880s and apparently is little changed from its original state
Bedourie also claims as its own the famous Bedourie Camp Oven which is a metal dish and lid and was fashioned for use on Bedourie Cattle Station after the stockman found that the heavy cast iron ovens were too heavy and often broke when falling off pack-horses. Bedourie was playing host to a rodeo and gymkhana that weekend and as tempting as it was to stay we pressed on towards Boulia.
One thing that struck us on this trip is just how much greener the country is compared to last year, and the abundance of Mitchell Grass on the open plains. And this was very evident on the road north to Boulia. Banjo Paterson once wrote… “He sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended. And at night the wondrous glory of the everlasting stars…” It isn’t hard to see what he was writing about.
Before arriving at Boulia we crossed the Georgina River where there was a plaque commemorating Eddie ‘Jolly’ Miller who has been billed as the last of the outback mailmen. And whilst I think a few have claimed this title it was interesting to read of one account of his trip from Boulia to Glengyle Station, located south of Bedourie. Eddie passed away in Redcliffe Queensland in 1991, coincidently my birthplace.
Our stop in Boulia was in the camp area alongside the Burke River. A very pleasant spot were Janet cooked up Tomo’s favourite dinner, spaghettibolognaise, while the boys’ took a ride around town on the bikes. It was a pleasant night spent in the company of a couple who had been following us north since Innamincka.
Last year on our exodus north we stopped at Dajarra, on a very cold day, and we thought this trip would be a good opportunity to spend a night there and explore it further. Its claim to fame is it was once the largest trucking depot in the world and was a hub for cattle trains from far and wide. However, it wasn’t to be on this trip either, as we had decided to head to Camooweal via Mt Isa.
Dajarra
Dajarra has a strong aboriginal population and native languages are taught in the local school and I suspect there are some gems to be found in this town, if you are able to spend the time to scratch beneath its surface.
We were edging closer to the Gulf Country and Camooweal, a town located on the far western, Queensland-Northern Territory border beckoned. From Mt Isa we travelled along the highway that was built in the Second World War, although we had considered coming north via Urandangi, a route we had taken previously, however the roadconditions were uncertain.
The explorer William Landsborough was apparently the first European to pass through the region, in search of Burke and Wills around 1862, and his glowing report of the region led to pastoralists establishing themselves in the area, and a town soon followed in 1884. Just to the south of the town is the Camooweal National park which protects a number of caves that date back to the Cambrian Period, over 500 million years ago!
After a couple of beers at the pub, a good meal, and restful sleep we awoke to a perfect day, one of great anticipation for all of us, especially Tomo, who had been looking forward to another visit to Lawn Hill National Park, and Adel’s Grove.
The area has been a favourite for Janet and me since we first flew Foxtrot-Tango-Hotel into Adel’s Grove from Burketown in 1997 and the drive north was through familiar country having driven it on two previous occasions, but you could never become blasé with the beautiful countryside, and before arriving at Adel’s Grove we took the time to stop for a swim at the O’Shannesy River.
O’Shannesy River
Boodjamulla, as it is known by the Traditional Owners, the Waanyi Aboriginal People, or Lawn Hill as it is more commonly called is situated in the remote north-west region of Queensland and takes in Lawn Hill Gorge and includes the World Heritage listed Riversleigh Fossil area. The gorge, nestled in the Constance Range, is fed by a number of freshwater springs, abounds in wildlife and vegetation and could only be described as an oasis in a scorched and barren land.
Adel’s Grove is situated adjacent to the park’s boundary and was originally gazetted in 1904 as a Miners Homestead Lease according to the information provided. In 1920 Albert de Lestang took up the property as an experimental Botanical Garden, and in fact our campsite was situated in the old Botanical Garden. Albert supplied many Botanical Gardens around the world with the seeds of the over 1,000 species of plants he produced in his nursery. Tragically, in the early 1950s fire destroyed the grove, Albert’s dwelling, and all his research papers.
Tomo and friends at Adels Grove
And after a couple of days of swimming, (and swimming), bike rides, walks, and camp oven roasts, we were not disappointed we had made the trip north once again. The weather was perfect, a lovely campsite just alongside Lawn Hill Creek. Our nearest neighbour was only about 5 metres away from us, but he (or she) didn’t make too much noise, although we might have actually felt a little easier if it did – it was in fact a four metre long olive python. It seemed more than content to simply laze about in the sun, occasionally moving towards the water; I knew just how it felt!
Olive Python
After a couple of days lazing about and soaking up the beauty of the area I rode down to Lawn Hill Gorge on the bike, Janet and Tomo followed in The Landy, and we took the opportunity to do a walk with a swim at nearby Indarra Falls. Back at camp, as the sun settled towards the distant horizon, the sounds of laughter and banter could be heard as visitors toasted another day in the Outback.
I had lost count of how many days we had been at Lawn Hill but found myself sitting around the camp fire, mid-morning, eating one of Janet’s delicious scones that she had just freshly baked in the camp oven…
Camp oven scones
Our visit to Lawn Hill was marked by an important event on the Rugby League calendar, one when State revelries come to the fore with the culmination of the State of Origin series, and for a change the final game was to be the decider. We joined many other travellers huddled into the reception and bar area of Adel’s Grove to watch the game on a big screen. And the Queenslanders were not to be disappointed with a convincing win over the Blues! Needless to say we toasted the victory with a few ales before retiring for the night.
Baz on his way to Riversleigh Fossil Site
And given I had toasted the previous night’s victory to the Maroon’s with a number of ales I thought it best to work it off with a bike ride to the Riversleigh Fossil site which is located about 50 kilometres from Adel’s Grove. Yes, more corrugations, and I must say it always seems as though you are into a headwind when under pedal power. None-the-less it was a great ride rewarded with glimpses of various birds and wildlife.
Janet and Tomo followed behind in The Landy and I was greeted with the news that Tomo had ‘hauled’ in an enormous Sooty Grunter, his first catch ever. The catch was heralded by much noise heard all over the camp, and proud Mum was there with the camera to record the event. After loading the bike into The Landy we headed to the O’Shannesy River where we wiled away the time swimming, fishing, and trying to catch those elusive yabbys’.
Tomo & his catch
Our last full day at Adel’s Grove started with a great treat for breakfast, the fish that Tomo caught the previous day was dispatched to the frying pan over hot coals and devoured by Janet and myself. Tomo passed on the opportunity declaring he would sooner catch them rather than eat them.
And that set the tone for the day as the rest of it was spent resting, swimming, and eating Janet’s scones that she expertly prepared in the camp oven. Surely this must be paradise!After six wonderful days at Adel’s Grove we reluctantly packed The Landy and said good-bye to some new friends and headed towards The Curry as I have often heard Cloncurry referred to, stopping for a while at Gregory Downsalong-the-way.
Gregory Downsis a small township and the pub is an original coach-house, a great place to stop and enjoy the atmosphere of the Gulf Savannah! On last year’s trip to the area Janet bought a cookbook produced by the CWA at Gregory Downswhich contained a wealth of information on the early days of settlement in this area. I recommend it to anyone with an interest in the life of early settlers in Outback Australia.
After exploring Gregory Downs we settled into the drive to The Curry. And speaking of explorers’ Burke and Wills passed this way on their trip to the Gulf of Carpentaria. Burke named the river, Cloncurry, after his cousin, the Lady Elizabeth Cloncurry. Ernst Henry is credited as the founder of the town, he came looking for grazing land, but found copper instead, and the town was established in 1876. The town has many pubs, and no doubt they have seen their fair share of characters over the years…
Qantas flew its first paying passenger, Alexander Kennedy, from Longreach to Cloncurry on November 23, 1922, and the original hangar is still standing with Queensland and Northern Territory Aerial Service emblazoned on the front. The town also boasts a museum to commemorate John Flynn of the Outback.
Qantas Hangar Cloncurry
We explored the town after a good night’s sleep and before heading towards the Blue Heeler pub at Kynuna for an overnight stop.
There are many Australians who have made significant contributions to society and a common theme amongst their ranks is they are usually people who never sought accolades for what they did. Often is the case it is years after their passing that the significance of their achievements are fully recognised. We were able to learn more about two such Australians on this trip, John Flynn, whose drive was instrumental in bringing medical services to ‘those of the outback’ and one of my favourite Australians, Banjo Paterson.
Cloncurry, the birthplace of what is today known as the Royal Flying Doctor Service, houses a museum that pays tribute to the man, his drive, and those who made the Royal Flying Doctor Service possible.
Walk-a-bout Creek Hotel
Travelling south we stopped in at the Walk-About-Creek Hotel at McKinlay for lunch. Crocodile Dundee fans will recall Mick Dundee and his mates, among them Donk, whose lives were centered on the pub. And we had a good chuckle as we walked through the pub picturing various scenes from the movie, reminded by the many photos on the walls.
Walkabout Creek Hotel
But Janet’s memories went back past the movie fame to when as a young girl (she’s still young), and along with sister Leah stayed on Wolseley Downs, a property not far from town. Apparently a book could be written on that period of their lives; needless to say it brought back many memories for her…
Speaking of memories, we visited the Combo Waterhole, which is located not far from Kynuna. Many (c’mon, everyone) will know that the Combo Waterholewas the scene at which the Swagman, with Jumbuck in his tucker bag drowned after being confronted by ‘the law’ in Banjo Paterson’s Waltzing Matilda, Australia’s unofficial National Anthem.
In part, it is as tale of a very dark time for the Australian Outback, when Australian’s were pitched against Australian’s during the great shearers’ strike in 1894. There we sat by that very waterhole singing Waltzing Matilda which I ‘m sure resonated through the Coolibah trees, witnessed only by the resident budgies who seemingly looked on curiously, but undoubtedly had watched the scene unfold many times before…
Combo Waterhole
And as we settled into a sumptuous rump steak at the Blue Heeler we drank a toast to Banjo. Tomorrow, we would visit the North Gregory Hotel in Winton where they say Waltzing Matilda was first recited…
North Gregory Hotel Winton
What a steak it was, in fact so big it took a number of beers to wash it down, which was fortunate as we learned about the Dicks Creek Hotel ruins located on Bendemeer Station while we were dining. We were talking about outback history when a local, Ben and his partner Talia, overheard us and told us about it.
Ben is the son of the owner of Bendemeer and he suggested we take the stock route east towards Winton which starts near the Combo Waterhole, indicating the route will take us past the old Dagworth Cemetery before arriving at the Dicks Creek Ruins, which is on the road towards Dagworth Station. We enjoyed a good chat, and a few more beers, before retiring for the night, being careful to avoid the cantankerous, but more or less friendly Brolgas that were roaming the area around the pub earlier in the evening.
Brolgas at Blue Heeler Pub Kynuna
And a restful sleep it was before we headed off down the stock route towards Winton via the Dicks Creek Hotel ruins. About 15 kilometres along the route we came across the old Dagworth Cemetery which had six known people buried there. Tragically, the youngest was only twelve days old, a young girl, Catherine Sewell, who passed away on 23/01/1894, perhaps her death standing testament to the harshness of the Australian Outback despite its majestic beauty.
Dagworth Cemetery
After unsuccessfully trying to speak with Ben’s father on Bendemeer as we passed by the homestead, we headed about a kilometre on the track towards Dagworth Station where the ruins of the Dicks Creek Hotel stood clearly. We spent some time wandering about amongst the ruins (and bottles!), before coming across a plaque noting the last licensee of the pub.
Eventually we made our way to an outback favourite of ours, the town of Winton, where we visited the Waltzing Matilda Museum, the only museum in the world dedicated to a song, Banjo’s song, our Nation’s song.
Winton has quite a history, and certainly fits the bill of having quite a lot of characters passing through it over the years. During the 1860s a number of explorers passed through the region whilst in search of the ill-fated Burke and Wills expedition and Winton was originally named Pelican Waterhole, but later renamed Winton in 1879.
Another Winton character worthy of mention is James Francis ‘Gidge’ Taylor, the town crier. Gidge was given a retainer by Bill Evert, owner of the open air picture theatre The Royal to announce attractions of the night and it is said his imaginative description of the picture was often entertainment in itself.
And with a fresh brew of tea, we watched the sun head towards the western horizon, the sun-drenched red bull dust illuminating the western skyline in a blaze of red ochre colouring…
Our intention was to head towards Welford National Park after leaving Winton but not before a visit to the North Gregory Hotel were the first recital of Waltzing Matilda is said to have taken place in 1895. And what a magnificent night we had, a couple of beers, followed by dinner at the majestic Tattersall’s Hotel in the company of some fellow travellers’.
Bidding farewell to Winton we headed south towards Welford National Park a favourite of Janet’s, well all of us in fact. Along the way we detoured to Opalton, a small opal mining settlement approximately 100 kilometres south of Winton. We had a chuckle though as there was no-one about…We guess they were all underground! We also came across an old grave near Mayneside, that of twelve year old Alice Ellen Dakey, who passed away in July 1920. It was very well looked after and some-one had placed flowers recently…
Grave at Mayneside
We had a later departure than we had anticipated and with the detour to Opalton our arrival at Welford would be around sunset. And let me say it was a beautiful sight as the Mitchell Grass on the open plains changed colour with the advancing moments of sunset.
Our last visit to Welford was only last year, however due to the onset of rain in the area we didn’t camp at the park and headed to Jundah, seeking refuge in the pub. Now it is funny how things work out, but we had a very enjoyable stay at the Jundah Hotel. And like a magnet drawing us in, we stayed at the pub once again, after all we couldn’t resist with such a wonderful host, licensee Monique Rayment.
Jundah Pub
I encourage anyone who gets the chance to visit Jundah to do so, and be sure to call into the pub. Tomo had a great night playing bingo with the locals, and a game of pool later. Now I can’t say I’m a regular bingo player, and judging by the crowd you wouldn’t think half of them would be either, but there they were going at it harder than the old days of the 6 o’clock swill…
The next day after bidding Monique and the friendly township of Jundah farewell we made the short drive to Welford.
There are large permanent waterholes on the Barcoo River and these are a haven for wildlife, especially birds. And for those lucky enough, they say it is possible to see a yellow footed rock-wallaby sheltering in the rocky outcrops of the park. They have proved to be elusive on previous visits, but perhaps it will be a case of third time lucky.
Tomo, the walking hat, was immortalised in a Christmas card photo, many years ago on a previous visit, along the banks of a waterhole on the desert drive within the park. We did the drive before making camp, and another photo opportunity on ‘the tree’ beckoned. And Janet’s favourite, the rich red sand-dunes were a sight to behold.
Welford National Park
And as we sat alongside the banks of the Barcoo River, the fire was coming to life in preparation for a camp oven roast, the whistling kites soared overhead, and budgies flittered through the river gums in a brilliant display of colour.
For the first time on this trip we awoke to an overcast sky, and the possibility of rain. Despite this we had a camp fire breakfast of jaffles, baked beans, and bacon. Tomo is a big fan of bacon jaffles and just as we were breaking camp for our drive to Toompine some very light rain started to fall.
On our trip north last year we stopped at Toompine for afternoon tea, but vowed to work in an overnight stay at the South Western Hotel. It is the only building in the area and was a Cobb & Co staging post between 1884-1915. The town was originally called Thuenpin which is the aboriginal word for ‘leech’ and was named so by pioneer Pastoralist JD Steele who arrived in the area around 1875. The Survey Department later changed the name to Toompine.
Before arriving at Toompine we travelled to the site of Maggee’s Shanty and Richard Magoffin’s Grave which were not too far from Welford and just before the turn on to the Budgerygar-Thylungra Road. Those familiar with the writing’s of Banjo Paterson will recognise this is the place immortalised in his poem A Bush Christening. The grave of Richard Magoffin who perished in 1885 is nearby.
Magoffin came to Australia from County Down in Ireland in 1853, digging for gold in Victoria and fighting at Eureka. Later he settled with a brother at Chiltern, Victoria, before moving to Bourke, where they sank dams and ran a carting business before tough times sent them further north, to Queensland.
Richard Maggofin’s Grave
There was very little to see of Maggee’s Shanty, although a plaque indicated its site, but Magoffin’s Grave was very well kept. Our drive along the Budgerygar-Thylungra Road was pleasant and in keeping with our desire to travel the less traversed route. However, by now light rain was falling and it appeared it had been heavier earlier as the road was starting to feel like glue, initially, and a touch slippery later.
The Landy, with Tvan in tow, arrived in Quilpie covered in mud, and I was relegated to the duty of cleaning it while Janet and Tomo spent some time in town. Like many towns in this area there is an artesian bore providing water and there was a washing point just on the outskirts of town.
The Landy & TVan covered in mud
And just as the sun was disappearing below the horizon we arrived in Toompine, set-up the Tvan and headed to the South Western Hotel for a couple of beers and a hearty meal. The next day’s arrival was heralded with the pat…pat…pat of rain on canvas, although we had little reason to complain given the fabulous weather we had enjoyed on this trip.
We departed Toompine in the rain, but eventually, much later in the day, we caught glimpses of the sun as we headed towards the township of Bourke for the second time on this trip and before arriving at our destination of the Mulga Creek Hotel at Byrock.
Earlier we stopped at Eulo for a visit to the leather shop where Tomo purchased a leather pouch for his Leatherman tool, and The Landy got a whip, something that clearly amused Janet who suggested it might come in handy when the time came to cross the Blue Mountains once again. Tragically, not long after our return home we were saddened to learn that the general store in Eulo had burned down in a fire, a great loss to this small community.
We have passed through Byrock on many occasions, and flown over it at other times, and whilst we have often stopped for a ‘cupper’ we wanted to stay for the night and enjoy the area’s hospitality. One of the things that had stood out for us on previous visits is its military history. The town counts a Victoria Cross, Military Cross, three Military Medals, and a Distinguished Flying Cross, as being awarded to members of its community for service in both World Wars.
Byrock Memorial
It seems no-one is quite sure how the town got its name, but it seems to have some origin in the near-by rock hole which is situated not far from the highway just north of the Mulga Creek Hotel. The local Nyamimba people referred to the rock hole as ‘bai’ and could be one explanation for the town being named Byrock.
As with many other towns, the coming of the railway in 1884 attracted people to the area and eventually the town boasted five hotels, a baker, butcher, and a number of other stores to support the 500 people living in the area, although the town did exist prior to the rail. Cobb & Co also ran a service to Bourke each week, and the journey lasted around 12 hours but must have felt like an eternity on the rough track. Janet mumbled something about The Landy and knowing how they must have felt…
Our evening was spent in the company of locals around a warm fire, having a few laughs and Tomo continued to perfect his pool playing talents. Eventually we retired to the Tvan and the patter of rain on the canvas during night.
Our last full day on tour would take us to the winery region of the upper Hunter Valley. And we had a great day travelling through some familiar and some less familiar places as we headed towards an overnight stay at Mudgee.
The Mudgee region is part of Wiradjuri country, and the Wiradjuri language group is the largest in New South Wales. Apparently, in Wiradjuri Aboriginal dialect, the word ‘Mudge’ means ‘nest in the hills’. And I must say after traversing the wide open plains country over the past three weeks it was a change for The Landy to be hauling itself over some hills, and no, the whip was not required, although Janet seemingly was poised and ready!
Wine, fine food, well we’ve had plenty of that over the three weeks we journeyed through outback Queensland and the Gulf Savannah, so it was fitting we celebrated our last night on tour in the fine food and wine country of Mudgee.
And as we headed home we began to recount the many memorable moments we enjoyed on this trip… the golden Mitchell Grass swaying in a light breeze, rich in golden colour as the last rays of a setting sun lightly touch its tips, the splash of colour as a flock of budgies sprint past, the sounds of the whistling kites overhead, and of freshwater crocodiles basking in the sun; the outback is truely alive!
As for characters, well we met some, learnt about many, and without doubt we had one travelling amongst our midst and who went by the name of Tomo, the walking hat…
I have been driven by a quote from the legendary mountaineer, Walt Unsworth, who said in part, “But there are men for whom the unattainable has a special attraction. Usually they are not experts: their ambitions and fantasies are strong enough to brush aside the doubts which more cautious men might have. Determination and faith are their strongest weapons. At best such men are regarded as eccentric; at worst, mad…”
I have been discussing high altitude climbing with a number of people and organisations over the past twelve months and have been encouraged by the support and enthusiasm shown by all. I have been working specifically with Adventure Consultants in New Zealand, a company founded by Rob Hall, very professional and they have provided some great advice and insight to what is required, both mentally and physically.
I will be climbing in New Zealand in early and mid-2013, and in Nepal towards the end of 2013 on three, 6,000 metre peaks to assist in honing my skills. If all goes to plan I am aiming to join an expedition to climb Cho Oyu, situated in Tibet, in 2014. Cho Oyu is the world’s sixth highest peak, and one of the world’s fourteen 8,000 metre peaks. In between I may head to Alaska to climb Mt McKinley, often referred to as Denali for further experience.
And beyond this, well who knows, if I can pull that off, and it is a big ‘if’ mind you, than Mt Everest would be a possibility. And the goal I have set myself is to achieve the skills and fitness required where those with the ability to judge can say you would be a chance at giving that a go! And I’ve always said better to dream big, than not at all. That is the road-map, but journey’s often end at a totally different destination to the one you plan…
But putting aside the skills required, fitness plays a key role in this pursuit, and fortunately the type of training I undertake, which includes a strong emphasis on strength and weight training, combined with High Intensity Cardio (HIT) work, which comes from my rowing, fits perfectly like a glove. Over the past few months I have been doing a lot of endurance walking with a 30/35 kg pack, great training for those who care to give it a go. In fact I completed a 100 kilometre walk a couple of weeks ago, and there will be a few more of those coming up, in part, to simulate long-tiring days as many summit attempts involve 15-20 plus hour days.
Over the months ahead I will be back on the bike as it is a good cardiovascular builder. In fact, I have been reading about an Australian couple who both successfully climbed Mt Everest in 2007 and who took up competition cycling as a way of increasing their cardio-vascular capacity.
For me this is a journey, and it can only be made one step at a time, and the best advice I have been given is to enjoy every step, and let it take you where it wants to go! And whilst I am a big believer in the power of positive thinking, and goal setting, I am tempered by this advice, and it is a healthy life-style choice as it requires plenty of exercise, positive mental attitude and good nutrition, which can’t be a bad thing!
Oh, and Janet, my very supportive partner, said recently, ‘just as well money in the bank account isn’t too important to me’ – I kind of took that as a green light, but I’m yet to tell her how much my boots cost!