songlines Road

HERE I GO AGAIN

2010-09-03T22:35:00.000-07:00

HERE I GO AGAIN

I have completed the barista course at William Angliss TAFE, so I am now qualified to know why I make bad coffee. My car is serviced and I leave very early on Thursday morning to drive to Adelaide in time to make dinner with friends who go on holiday to NZ the next day. Then, on Friday the approach to the Nullarbor Plain crossing begins, taking in the longest coastal cliff lines in the world and enabling me to enter the far south of WA in early March.

What happens after that depends upon my Daemon and the winds of fortune but I will be generally tracking north with the Kimberley in the far NW as my ultimate destination, where I will walk, camp and possibly 4 wheel drive to see both the geophysical wonders of this ancient land and its early aboriginal rock art.

Why am I doing this?
I am continuing to pursue my doctorate inspired strategy of working more for love, working to put back and working less just to live.Many of my friends and readers of my GoingNorth2 blog have urged me to write more and so a main focus of the trip will be doing on the ground research (Perth in the 1920s and the Kimberley at that time and now) and seeking inspiration to complete two novels, one three quarters written and the other stalled after chapter one. One finishes in the Kimberley and the other is completely located there.

What will I do?
I will have all my camp gear aboard-big, longer-stay tent and swag for overnight stops,gas cooker and a mini Weber,table, chairs and my mountain bike and so I will be prepared for anything.Amazing what you can fit into a Honda Jazz. The first few days in WA will involve drifting up through the Kari forests and vineyard areas towards Perth.

Perth is not likely to hold me long, time enough for some historical research at the Battye library and from there I will go north, taking in the great mines that feed China and India’s economic miracles and bolster my superannuation coffers, on the way to the tropical north, Broome and the Kimberley.

So, here I go again. Should you be likely to cross my path-there is room and spare beds in my large tent, I cook a mean bush roast, there is always plenty of red wine and of course the coffee should be better.

See ya later or on the Songlines Road.

ADELAIDE IN A DAY

2010-09-03T22:33:00.000-07:00

Uneventful first day out, driving the 800klms from Melbourne to Adelaide,if my Adelaide friend is right about the speed cameras, I may get one or more speeding ticket as I was unaware of being clocked on the final 200klms or so.Perhaps I will be on a fugitive run into the west.The countryside on the way across was fairly green in Victoria but dried out markedly in South Australia.Adelaide looked lovely-sunny and mild and about to go en-fete with the opening of their world famous arts festival.

Have had a delightfully luxurious night compared with where I am headed. Geoff is a leading business educator at Melbourne Business school and the Darden school in Virginia,USA.I have known him professionally for 20 years , he contributes to my Onesteel program and we have consulted to a number of organisations together and have become good, lasting friends.He and Mardi have a gorgeous federation house verging on to the grounds of St Peter's college.We dined at a very good Yakatori restaurant accompanied by their son who works at Dan Murphy's, when not studying Mandarin, and his visiting American girl friend.

ADELAIDE TO KIMBA 29 FEB 2008

2010-09-03T22:32:00.001-07:00

GATEWAY TO THE OUTBACK
One has to run almost 300 klms north to the top of the Gulf before starting to go west. It was a much easier 400klm day than yesterday's dash.Went out through Adelaide's awful northern industrial wasteland-an aspect little known to the festival ravers of North Adelaide, but all too well remembered by me as I drove that way everyday in 2002 when working with the Michell company in Stirling.
Things start to pick up as one approaches Port Augusta(gateway to the outback)The foothills of the southern Flinders ranges march along beside the road and an accompanying trans continental freight train(or was it going to Darwin) with double decked shipping containers,made a fine contrast with the iron red cordillera alongside the tracks.

I had driven this road before on my way to Wilpena Pound in early 1999 under much less happy circumstances. It was 40c and as I had recently split with my wife,there were a few fractious phone calls along the way to settle the division of our assets.

Port Augusta hadn't changed much-one was immediately aware of an aboriginal presence such as one never encounters in Melbourne. Women and children were at most city centre street corners and extended family groups gathered under parkland trees. much as they do in Broome. It was cooler than last time but plagued with bush flies-one even accompanied me into the bank.

At a Coles supermarket I stocked up on unmentionably unhealthy canned food in case of emergencies in foodless locations.

The road west to Iron Knob was much more dramatic, with sweeping plains carpeted with salt bush which rucked up against iron stone outcrops. Iron Knob(Pop 200)was where BHP started the Australian steel industry and mine tours are still available

It was a ghost town on this Friday afternoon and in the deserted pub I only got service when a crawliing child howled for her parents (so much for my Santa Clause look) In conversation with the publican I gathered that the bowling and tennis clubs were the social hubs of the town and only available to those born there.Tourists and blow-ins not welcome.I asked him what he did, as well as running the far from busy pub. In response to which he sighed and said that keeping his cars going kept him flat out. Much Holden technical talk ensued, sufficient to glaze my eyes over. I looked at his worn-out wife, who had made me a toasted sandwich and who seemed to be doing all the bar restocking, said cheerio to the wild and unkempt child and left.

The road west is good and rolls up and down hills that afford great views across the barren bush.Cars and trucks coming east were never at less than half hour intervals and only one overtook me in 100+ Klms.

I had been advised to stop in Kimba(which claims to be the cross roads of Australia) and as road fatigue was setting in I gave up pushing on for three hours more to reach Ceduna.Dodging kangaroos at dusk is no fun and it's then the intimidating road trains come out to play in great numbers.

The smart town pub served excellent salt and pepper squid and I even entered the Lions club meat tray raffle-would have been pretty high steak by Perth if I had won.

The campsite ground was too hard for the swag's pegs and I had to pull up two wheelie bins to secure both ends, on a dusty dry windy night.Not had much rain here in a while.

SLEEPING WITH THE SOUTHERN CROSS

2010-09-03T22:26:00.001-07:00

SLEEPING WITH THE SOUTHERN CROSS

All night and into the dawn, the Southern Cross star formation, a trusty guide to pioneer navigators, stood watch above my swag. It was comforting to look up at it through the insect screen before going to sleep and awaken to its steady gaze in the wee small hours of a Western Australian morning.

What scenes of human folly, triumph and tragedy it has seen. Early aboriginal nomads foraging the plains, Eyre losing his mate and himself striving almost unto death to establish the east-west route along the Great Australian Bight, he called the Nullarbor. Now it is largely the preserve of the lordly road trains and the lesser but increasing lines of grey nomads, proud in their spanking new Akubras, at the wheel of glossy four wheel drive monsters, motor homes or towing caravans and even the occasional car.

What could it make of a single, white, Honda bullet, dodging suicidal kangaroos and clean up teams of carrion crows, blistering west as though for its very life.
What might be the driver’s mission? Licence plates speak of where it has come from but where is its driver bound? To the stars it might readily seem no different from his forebears yet another, albeit 21st century, pioneer in search of a dream.

But yet there was something different about this latter day wanderer. He had found his dream and needed no guiding star for he was travelling his songlines road.

But still nice to sleep with the Southern Cross, just in case!

STREAKY BAY TO EUCLA (ACROSS INTO WA)-2 MARCH 2008

2010-09-03T22:10:00.000-07:00

Set off in the dark for Ceduna-not a wise move as one is less alert so early and the last of the night road trains, festooned with their Christmas tree lights, sure were intimidating.As the light breaks the bush had a uniformly almost colourless grey look about it-like a zinc coated tableau.
Ceduna is just a bigger version of Streaky Bay and after a welcome truck stop breakfast I confronted the start of the real Nullarbor challenge.

Only 1053 Kilometres to go

OFF THE BEATEN TRACK

I was soon distracted by the side road to the all but abandoned fishing village of Fowler's Bay, which turned out to be of surprising historical celebrity.
SO MANY EXPLORERS

The Dutch, Flinders and Eyre came by.Now there are just a few houses and a guest house.All is backed by sandhills of Arabian style and proportions. Very suitable for Foreign Legion movies.

Anybody seen Beau Geste?
IF THE ROAD DOESN'T GET YOU THEN THE WILDLIFE WILL

There were lots of wildlife warnings along the way, with good reason.The roadside was littered every few hundred metres by the night road trains toll of dead kangaroos.Missed a large one by about 50 metres and fortunately there was no companion animal following behind it. It's often the secondary one that gets you.I was surprised on two occasions to come upon wedge-tailed eagles squatting on kangaroo carcases surrounded by crows, all having a piece of the clean up action.I stopped and tried to creep up for a photo but the Eagles were too wary and canny to oblige and flew away as I crept up on them.

Whilst fairly featureless the landscape varied from treeless in places, to medium density bush in sandy soil and for a spell a ridge of sandy rock ran parallel to the road for about 50 Klms.

Covered about 700 Klms in the day and nobody overtook me.I was surprised by the number of people coming the other way who waved-must have been fellow Victorians because the farm truck types didn't.

A LONG AND LONELY ROAD

CROSSING THE BORDER

The quarantine check was more thorough than any I have encountered in Australia. I even had to surrender an unopened jar of honey. Well at least he didn't confiscate my nail scissors and Swiss army knife, like that hijab wearing security detail at Heathrow.Strange thing at the border was the fact that one didn't jump immediately to WA time-this only came into play a few hundred kilometres farther in. There is a sort of twilight zone between SA and WA time.

Stopped the night in a very hot and dusty camp site at Eucla-a very forgettable place.First encounter with WA police in the bar there. Big affable country boys of a rather pedantic disposition. No wonder when one reads signs like this about their responsibilities.
WIDE AWAKE IN WA

So what do they do? Tuck lonely travellers into cell bunks for the night. strange state this.
In SA on the way across, the road safety focus was intense. Instead of white crosses and individual shrines to road death victims,they erected black and red posts to indicate a fatality or serious injury.They really impact you, especially when you come upon a cluster meaning multiple death and mutilation.A large roadside poster showed a young man flying over the front seat of a car (No seat belt)about to collide, head first, with the female driver. The caption read-The last thing to enter her mind was her boy friend.The more conventional white crosses beside otherwise benign spots on the Nullarbor also served to remind me to stop and sleep at intervals.

EUCLA TO KALGOORLIE-3 MARCH 2008

2010-09-03T21:48:00.001-07:00

NO DEVIANTS ALLOWED HERE
The sign said it all.It really felt as though one could lock the wheel and read a book. But you have to be careful of that strange feeling of wanting to drift into the path of rare oncoming vehicles which you can see coming from far away.
Up at 5:30am-wonderful crescent moon and super star display. Big drive today to get through the Nullarbor-800klms to kalgoorlie.

At an all night road house, the trucker's breakfast was welcome-the sausage component was even a decent bratwurst, unlike those dreadful Aussie beef snags that just cry out to be burnt on a barbie.It was as well I had brought my West coast eagles cap as this turned out to be an entrenched Eagles lair.The toilet sign intrigued. They usually say-keep door closed to stop insects getting in. This one added a caution about snakes!!Made one sit on the seat rather carefully and only after thorough reconnaissance.Ladies seemed to contemplate this caution with studied interest.

KALGOORLIE, LEGENDARY HEART OF THE GOLDEN WEST

2010-09-03T21:46:00.000-07:00

After a very long hot day’s driving,I was glad to find a pitch on grass in a caravan park, in Boulder, sister city to kalgoorlie whose gold finds in the 1800s, as with the discoveries in Victoria’s Ballarat and Bendigo, secured the colony's economic future and influenced WA’s decision to grant the early enfranchisement of women and eventually opt for membership of the Commonwealth of Australia.

So I entered the city with high hopes which were satisfied ,at an architectural level, by the fine hotels and civic buildings of the gold rush period but somehow the existence of contemporary mining in the city seemed to have encouraged a lowering of social tone that did nothing for its image. I refer to the surprise of entering what I perceived to be a superb example of a goldfields pub only to find myself surrounded by a group of even dirtier old men, who were purving at the “skimpies”, barmaids whose attire left nothing to the imagination and who when they bent down (which they did frequently) revealed a profile likely to put even the reddest blooded man off his beer. I was called darling 5 times in the course of having one beer served and I must say I missed the gruff demeanour of some of the English barmen who recently served me pints of real ale.

On the other hand there was something amusing about the brothels in Hay street with their stable doors-which offer tours for tourists at $20 a session (no sampling of the wares)-and which were rammed, recently, by a disturbed female motorist.

HAY STREET BROTHEL

YOU'RE BETTER OFF IN VIC
My advice for tourists seeking to see the best of Australian gold fields history is go to Victoria where the visual, presentational and story telling is handled with style and wonderful interactive opportunities for adults and kids.

KALGOORLIE TO ESPERANCE-4 MARCH 2008

2010-09-03T21:45:00.001-07:00

Rose at 5am. Everywhere on the dark streets, men in reflector working clothing were either going to or returning from their shifts at the mine.You can appreciate the high demand for labour when you see female window cleaning contractors working early on the main street shops.Traffic is almost exclusively of the tray backed four wheel drive style and despite so many men on the streets it was hard to get a cooked breakfast before 7am.There was lots of pre-cooked take away food sitting in its congealing grease under warming lights but no sign of the Australian newspaper( a national paper printed in Perth) until after 9am.

I had been persuaded by a friend to go to see the theatre in the town hall and killed time, before it opened, on a park bench in the suburbs until I realised its proximity to a child care centre might make me a suspect person if I loitered there too long.

Again, the theatre was a bit tawdry and not like the one in Ballarat where I saw a performance of the fortunes of Richard Mahoney.At least I got some necessary banking done and international mail away.
THE SEA! THE SEA!

It was almost 500, hot and boring kilometres to Esperance where I would again be reunited with the sea. I had expected road trains to disappear after the Norseman junction with the Eyre Highway but not so, they were even harder to overtake on this narrower road and raised alarm when the third trailer started to drift to the right just as one was shaping up to overtake.A little welcome rain fell to settle the dust and alleviate the heat and it was a relief to enter Esperance and once more be by the sea.

At this moment-several days later at my former brother-in-law's house in Perth, some of his former Vietnam war comrades arrived, armed with a copious selection of red wines and ready to do damage to a spiced lamb roast(cajun powder and Rosemary) that was sizzling away in the Weber and they determined,unanimously, that I had to cease blogging for the night.As last night had not been the best in my life, I was happy to surrender and join in. To be continued to-morrow.

It was a very good night, both lamb and wine excellent and as only veteran diggers could dare to, they determined to critique and advise me on my love life.Fortunately I can't remember much of it and although the wine didn't react badly on me, because of its quality, I had a pretty sleepless night and deternined to return to the journey over to the west and get my blog up to date.

The town was nothing to write home about-a port city not unlike Portland in Victoria but similarly blessed with great scenery outside it-super white sand beaches and interesting rock formations.

Everything seemed to shut early in town and so having secured a tent spot for $20 I went in search of a chinese meal, only to find that even they were shut.
So,I fell back on the pub where,at least,I got NZ mussels in a chilli sauce and watched Australia lose to India.A tough looking character with tatoos like wallpaper on his upper torso, engaged me in bantering conversation, as Aussie blokes are wont to do with strangers.He became even more pally when he heard I was from Victoria as he was from Mordialloc (a Melbourne bayside suburb)

A much cooler night and my snow-line sleeping bag was welcome with swag's outer flap down.Cloudy night-no Southern cross to be seen.

ESPERANCE TO ALBANY-5MARCH 2008

2010-09-03T21:42:00.001-07:00

Hopefully the last long haul drive before Perth.As I had to wait until 7am to get the deposit back on my gate key, I used the time to paddle in the shallows along the fine white city beach.

More road trains and more small towns with fairly unhelpful, unfriendly natives and only take away food at service stations.Not even a MacCafe with decent coffee and clean toilets.In many such stopping points they just point you to a water boiler and the nescafe-"make it yourself mate!"

More drizzle but not enough to clean the car and windscreen.At last a suggestion of some more interesting scenery after the endless tracts of mallee in what is known as The Great Southern.

At first glance albany lived up to its reputation-being the first point of European settlement in WA.A fine Anglican church, whose sign announcing mass suggested a "spikey" leaning, and cafes with outdoor settings-although the one I chose for lunch had a demented woman amongst the alfresco diners, determined to pick a verbal stoush with anyone game enough to take her on-somehow didn't think she was a Liberal voter.

ORIGINAL SETTLEMENT DWELLINGS FROM WATERFRONT OVERPASS.
the library came good again as a source of coolness and email access-yet despite the govenment wealth in WA they charged $3 per half hour.Suddenly I decided to leave touring the town until the morrow and drove out about 50 klms to a national park campsite at Cheney's Beach.

CHENEY'S BEACH
What a wise choice-after a long walk on an isolated surf beach, I realised that I needed to slow down and let the residual sludge of the rat babble in my head, accumulated through hours of fast solo driving, sink to the bottom of my head's tank.Barely had I settled to write my blog notes,when a local told me he was setting a trap for a wild cat.I suggested that to put it near my swag would scare it away. To which he replied, displaying his country humour,"Don't like some pussie in the night?"He deserved and got the obvious retort from me-"The wilder the better!". Having spied my Victorian number plate either he decided discretion was the better part of valour or that male honours were even and as one does in Australia, we parted as "mates"

FRIENDLY LOCAL GOANNA
Then a much more welcome encounter with a young father and his kids as I was photographing a passing Goanna.

Just had to break from posting the blog, here in Perth, as Peter's( mine host)wife, Srey, has just fed us the most delectable Cambodian clear soup,rich in coriander and other spices for lunch.

He must have taken pity on a lone old man on the road-especially when he saw my swag and invited me to dinner with his family and friends as they had plenty of steak and onions to spare.His name is Kevin!-no relation I hope.

Drat those march flies-they really bite and I must have killed 40 whilst recording my day's adventures.Must get trousers on before mosquito squadrons arrive at dusk. Birds are squawking goodnight and settling down in all the surrounding trees.

LAST LANDFALL FOR THE ANZACS-6 MARCH 2008

2010-09-03T21:40:00.000-07:00

LAST LANDFALL FOR THE ANZACS
Walked along the bay where, in Ataturk channel, the ships carrying the first AIF gathered to form into a convoy and pick up warship escorts to take them to Egypt and eventually Gallipoli.I was so pleased and moved to be at the starting point of the journey of so many men, for whom this was their last sight of Australia, having stood on the beach where they landed at Anzac cove, in Turkey in November, last year.

SEAWAY THROUGH WHICH ANZACS DEPARTED

ALBANY'S NEWLY DEVELOPING WATERFRONT
Albany grows on you as you discover more and more little pockets. I liked the streets and old buildings that look down on the waterfront.Relaxed in a cafe bookshop and bought Ben Okri's Starbook to post to a friend who is reviewing her future.

OLD PIONEER AND MODERN APARTMENT HOUSING
Middleton beach wasvery impressive and nearby I found a whacky guest house with internet access.At Emu point was an old English style tea shop and in the milky waters of the sheltered beaches, ladies of a certain age paddled and wallowed to their hearts content.
It began to rain and I finished a perfect day in a micro-brewery where, in addition to fine beer, they served good Greek food.Albany was the best experience so far

ALBANY TO MARGARET RIVER

2010-09-03T21:39:00.001-07:00

I left early and on the way to town sprang two kangaroos which crossed the road, in line astern, some 30 metres ahead of me-so no collision.
I was beginning to feel road weary now and wanting to get the driving done with. Pete and Srey had dcided not to join me at Parry's beach and it was my intention to settle at Pemberton for a couple of nights.
But then the weather took a hand-it became much cooler and began to rain with a will. It held off sufficiently for me to traverse the tree top walk way in the valley of the Giants.Good, but not as impressive as its Tasmanian rival.

A GIANT INDEED

HOW ARE THE MIGHTY FALLEN
Then it really began to rain. Pemberton was misty, wet and cool-no place to throw down a swag. Fortunately I had been before and climbed the look out tree and all that and so I set off for Nannup, where Rae's family vineyard is and managed to visit the winery that bottles their wine and chat with the English owner whilst sampling his wares.Nannup looked quaint and could have been fun but it was very quiet and all the cafes were closed.It was not yet primed for the weekend visitors.
Margaret river on the other hand was crowded and brash and but for the late hour I could have preferred a better overnight stop. But at least the weather had improved offering late sunshine and a sunset.

MARGARET RIVER TO ROCKINGHAM-8 MARCH 2008

2010-09-03T21:37:00.001-07:00

I got both the Australian and a 6:30 breakfast in Margaret River which somewhat compensated for its Gold Coast(the same sort of clientel) feel. The aim then was to get within an easy morning's drive of Perth and spend a couple of nights unwinding by the sea.
The day was perfect and I made stops in Bunbury and Busselton, the modernity of which surprised me compared with my last visit in the early 80s. Mandurah was to be the stopping point but I hadn't counted on their crab festival and the huge crowds blocking the streets and diverting traffic-so I made a last dash to find a camp spot near Point Peron which Rae had recommended as a beauty spot and fortunately talked my way into an RSL caravan park for two nights, on the water front, close to the Stirling naval base.
VIEW ACROSS BAY FROM RSL CAMP SITE

This was an inspired choice-the folks were friendly, intrigued with my swag and seeing me typing emails in the night, under the light on the barbecue awning, with the backdrop of twinkling chemical plant lights across the bay.
The beach front location allowed me to walk and wade from the camp along some surprisingly fine strands and food at the Rockingham foreshore restaurants was more than acceptable. This was a good way to prepare to enter the big city and my first major destination.
POINT PERON BEACHES

Really enjoyed arriving before parking meters had activated in Fremantle, which is by far Perth's best asset.Had breakfast at an Italian restaurant on the main drag. Food great but again service bizarre. Had to get my own coffee at a separate counter and whilst there a waitress cleared my table and threw my newspapers away. I was not best pleased and said so.
The entry to Perth was uneventful-sunny, bright and almost clinically clean, it hadn't changed since Sandra and I visited almost two years ago.I had read a Financial Review magazine article that spoke of its mining driven wealth but also revealed a dark underside of social deprivation and youth suicide-but no sign of this that day.

MADE IT TO PERTH-MONDAY 10TH MARCH 2008
It was relatively easy to get to Peter's place at Padbury,via the coastal highway, despite intending to use the more direct freeway but I fell victim to Perth's errant traffic and street signage.I was greeted most warmly by Peter and his wife Srey and we immediately began to relieve the car of its unreasonable burden. As Peter is by profession an aircraft engineer-he soon fixed my loose bike brake cable and so removed one excuse for avoiding exercise.

So ended the great Nullarbor trek-some 5000 kilometres in eleven days.

BUMMING AROUND IN PERTH-14 MARCH 2008

2010-09-03T21:35:00.001-07:00

VIEW FROM KINGS PARK

have been in Perth a few days now. Made initial reconnaisance visit to the Battye library where WA historical records are held and dipped lightly into the microfiched editions of the 1920s in Western Australian, a hard job as it's layout resembled the pictureless original London Times layout.There were no obvious themes and items were confined to columns rather than newspaper sections and supplements, as in today's papers. I reacquainted my self with my novel after a year away from it and to my eye it still read well-so the juices of enthusiasm and inspiration were stirring again.

THEY REMEMBER THEIR ANZACS HERE TOO
In other respects I felt a bit listless and briefly "down" must have been the release and stopping after such a long and intense solo car trip.

My bike would help.I managed one run to the coast against a head wind from the sea in the early morning and puffing like a steam engine uphill on the way back.At first my stomach seemd to get in the way of my pumping knees and balance and gear changing needed caution, but the familiar rythm soon came back.

Took a car drive down the coast towards Perth where at 20klms were Floriat and City beaches. This made for a 40k round trip-about the most I dared cycle in that state of unfitness,perhaps even too far.But I intended to tackle it early on either Saturday or Sunday morning, even though rain was forecast.Pete had a bath so my seized up buttocks would get a good remedial soaking before rigor set in.

SATURDAY IN WANNEROO WITH THE MAFIA-15 MARCH 2008

2010-09-03T21:32:00.000-07:00

BARRY AND PETE NEAR GRAEME'S HOUSE

After two challenging nights of red wine drinking with former 9th Squadron mates, Peter and Graeme I was starting to settle into a Perth rhythm. Graeme was particularly interesting in that ,like me, he excelled in geography, English lit and history at school, graduated from the University of WA,then counter-intuitively served as an aircraft mechanic with the RAAF in Vietnam and retired a few years ago from a teaching post in state schools. Clearly a man who could operate satisfactorily in both hemispheres of his brain. This wasborne out by the diverse and sparkling nature of our red wine-fuelled post-prandial debates.

SREY, PETER, AND GRAEME

It was another sparkling, cooler but sunny morning in Perth and I was seduced from my intention to cycle to the sea by an invitation to go to Wanneroo fruit and vegetable market to get the week’s supplies. Although nothing like Prahran and Victoria markets ( my regular Melbourne haunts) it had a nice community feel and was very quiet for 9am on a Saturday morning.We settled for coffee in a cafe where it took more than 20 minutes to serve what William Angliss TAFE certainly would not have certified as coffee.

Gradually others began to join us some, Anglo Australian,others Cambodian and even the next generation of Eurasian grand kids.When I discovered that the third male of the party was an ex Vietnam vet from 9th squadron. I realised that I was gradually getting to know the airforce's Vietnam veterans mafia of Perth. It seemed there were 20 former squadron mates around the Perth suburbs-almost all with some personal issues emanating from their service in that unpopular and debilitating war.It was good to see how comradely and caring they were towards each other.Peter and Graeme used to work on aircraft that dropped agent orange and had undiluted doses contact their skin.

What really confirmed the special situation I was being initiated into was when I wondered when we would go to buy the produce, poor deluded bachelor that I am. Suddenly the women appeared having shopped for everything.I began to realise these guys had something going here that I was missing out on.

It transpired that Graeme was engaged on fitting out a former squadron helicopter which they had used in supporting the SAS in Vietnam and he was to take me into Swanbourne barracks, Australian SAS HQ,on Wednesday to see their museum, the helicopter and he suggested that I couldget to see the "killing room" where they trained with live ammunition to break hostage sieges without killing the innocent captives and their comrades.This was a special privilege and might provide valuable contacts and information to background the thriller I have set in the Kimberley, which revolves around a special forces action.
VIEW FROM GRAEME'S HOUSE

After this we went to see Graeme's house, meet his wife and then go to Jindaloop for an excellent curry Laksa lunch.On the way back I had a first hand guided tour of the new housing developments spreading out to the north of Perth-amazing how quickly sandy wastes get turned into green garden suburbs with amazing houses.The bars and cafes at the waterside marinas were like private clubs and there sure was some wealth tied up in boats.
LOCAL MARINA

Setting is much like Queensland/Northern NSW canal estates, but much quieter and perhaps a little less brash( but not much)

ON ME BIKE-SORRENTO TO CITY BEACH-16 MARCH 2008

2010-09-03T21:30:00.001-07:00

I set off at 8am suitably suncreamed and with a full water bottle, to try my longest bicycle jaunt so far-40klm round trip from Padbury via Sorrento marina to City beach and back.The combined road and footpath cycling took me up and down dale and gave a perfect view of beach after beach, very little patronised considering the quality of the day, and it a Sunday.At Scarborough beach the state surf life saving championship was in full swing and I made it to City beach (20k) in 55 minutes and celebrated with a good breakfast at an Italian style restaurant above Floriat Beach.

Very noticeable preponderance of families at these beaches and all around were picnic groups and even the parked bicycles had devices for carrying surf boards.
The heat was a bit of a problem returning after 1pm, I could feel the radiation off the concrete paths.Despite this I was pleased to feel my legs starting to remember the strength I had worked into them at the Richmond gym, almost 12 months ago when at my peak I could do squats shouldering over 100 kilos and without going too embarrassingly low on the gear ratios, I was able to maintain a respectable uphill pace throughout and was back in Padbury in an hour.

I was perspiring so much on return that I dripped onto the kitchen floor and after Srey had offered me a noodle powered lunch to restore my depleted energies, a hot bath with salts was organised, in the hope that it would prevent my seizing up.
Post mortem would occur when I tried to get out of bed in the morning.

THE MILK OF HUMAN KINDNESS

2010-09-03T21:28:00.001-07:00

Pete, Srey and I have just been to Bunnings and Spotlight-she to buy a zip fastner and other materials to repair and alter some of my garments and he to check out pieces of Jarrah for a chopping board he is to make for one of his airforce mates. As if this alone were not testimony enough to their generosity ( although I shall pay Srey)as Peter and I came through the pay point at Bunnings we heard the sad tale of a recently widowed lady ( her husband had died last week)whose lawn edge trimmer (made of Chinese steel)would not cut and which Bunnings could not sharpen.

In a flash,having ascertained she knew where Padbury was, he gave her his address told her to come and pick the trimmer up any time from this afternoon, and set off home with it.It is done and sitting by the door for her collection.A weapon that would serve Miss Marples and the homicidal villagers of Midsomer Murders fame.

If it's anything like as sharp as his kitchen knives (he keeps up to the mark with a diamond coated steel)she will have to watch her toes.Such is the spirit of my former brother in law and why people in the English village where my first boss (Howard-see Going north2 blog)lived with his wife Eileen,greeted with delight news of a visit by the Aussie fix it man and lined up with requested repairs to ancient garden gates etc.All of which he did for no recompense and with the skill and ingenuity of a man trained to get helicopters back in the air damn quickly, as his army mates out there were fighting the Viet Cong and he too was sometimes under fire.

Better stop writing and get into town to find fresh pasta in Perth, I'm cooking to night.

AT SWANBOURNE WITH THE SAS

2010-09-03T21:26:00.000-07:00

LAWN TRIMMER SEQUEL
The elderly widow turned up at Pete's, collected the sharpened edge trimmer and left him something else to sharpen and her address. He duly complied and he took it to her house and she gave him a lottery ticket. We all await Saturday's draw with hopeful anticipation. We also warned him that her husband may not be deceased and that she is about to do him in with the edge trimmer which has Pete's DNA all over it???
SWANBOURNE FIASCO
Bit of a disaster at Swanbourne-got through SAS security all right but found museum contents( including very large helicopter) dispersed because a new better museum was being built. Despite much inter-service enquiry and trying many places and keys, the helicopter might as well have been lost. Tempers got very frayed and I heard as much Vietnam reminiscence as a poor bloody civilian could absorb.The only bit of excitement, in what otherwise looked for all the world like an abandoned school campus-maybe because 300 troopers weree in Afghanistan-required some imagination.

As we passed the "killing house" where the SAS guys train to carry out hostage rescues a volley of very loud shots were heard followed by bursts of automatic fire.Red flags were up and flashing red lights warned against unauthorised entry.Signs outlawed rapelling down the wall of the house because two troopers did this and scared Bob Hawke when he was making a speech to open the facility.
Otherwise a morning of frustration management training,spiced with coffee at a Cottesloe beach-side cafe.

ON THE MOVE AGAIN
I will be back in Melbourne from very early 8/4 until 21/4. Main purpose-to fix up venue and entertainment, refreshments etc for 40th anniversary celebrations of my arrival in Sydney on 4 JUly 1968 (celebration will be on Saturday 5 July at time and venue to be announced),pick up light weight tent for Kimberley trekking from sea freight, if arrived by then. Have break from this beautiful, affluent but soulless city called Perth, before going north (maybe even feel some rain).

So open to social invitations in Australia's fastest growing and most livable/lovable city.

Will leave my car at Pete's house-they will be in Mildura all April and soon after I fly back on 21st will start my journey north. Now about to book kimberley activities. Have date in Darwin with friend on leave from a mine in PNG who will show me around in first week in June and lunch friday 13 June with former wife, Bronwyn ( Director of nursing-clinical at Alice Springs Hospital)in Alice Springs.

From Easter Tues for a week will be by the sea in friend's beach shack-still in email/sms/phone range -(lots of writing and exercise) then a final week with Pete's house to myself before coming to Melbourne. That should give me time to consolidate the writing research I have begun and get supplies etc ready for the north so there will be minimal delay after my return before departing northwards.

So, on the move again before I drowned in nightly red wine and became an honourary member of 9th Squadron RAAF Vietnam vets!!!

PERTH AT EASTER

2010-09-03T21:25:00.001-07:00

PERTH AT EASTER.
No wind-blown leaves here and never a hint of frost.
Trees refused to shed their canopies and relentless sunshine so scorched the lawns and foliage that sand seeped out to reclaim the once grass-covered space.

Out in suburbia, nothing and nobody moved.
Neat, well-appointed houses promised all and sumptuous creature comforts.
But surrounding land and nature strips seemed all but defeated by relentless solar assault.

Voices carrie over high garden fences on the barbecue-scented breeze. They told of laughter, social camaraderie and sometimes domestic strife.
A large, car and trailered-boat impeded the roadway, as husband and wife disputed the best reversing technique to avoid collision with her garaged car.

There was only me walking.Where was everyone? Gone away for the Easter weekend? Out on Perth’s fine and frequent surf lapped beaches? Or sheltering indoors with packs of stubbies and pizzas, before the giant plasma screen?

Radio disc jockeys burbled bonhomie, dispensing effusive Happy Easter greetings, blissfully unaware that Good Friday is the day of sacrifice and agony and that only on Sunday, does suffering resurrect into universal Christian happiness.

When might a cloud appear? Just a rippling shadow across the sun would do and maybe even a brief refreshing shower or two?
Far to the state’s south was cool and wet, whilst far to the north, monsoonal storms and deluges still held sway.

But, Perth, incarcerated in its bubble of unrelenting warmth, guarded by a sun that knows but to rise and set, and not to go away.
Football had started on concrete-hard grounds, played with no taking of prisoners in temps often higher than 30°C.

Surely autumn must be on us, but winter must be very, very, far behind.

HERE'S TO THE BRAVE OLD PIONEERS

2010-09-03T21:19:00.000-07:00

On Easter Saturday I decided to re-acquaint myself with the Avon valley pioneer towns of Toodyay and York.The latter was the first inland town in WA, established in 1830 and Toodyay in its original incarnation was known as Newcastle but had to have a name change because its mail kept going to Newcastle NSW by mistake.

This tree in Toodyay was over 370 years old

Toodyay was for a time the home of Moondyne Joe a famous larrikin horse thief who won his freedom fom imprisonment by escaping from what was believed to be an escape proof lock up.He appeared to be WA's answer to Ned Kelley. He is immortalised for Children in Randolph Stow's delight spoof called Midnite

A Toodyay hotel

On the way between the towns I took a small, flood prone side road and chanced upon evidence of the early settlers in the graveyard of a small Anglican church, alone in the bush, near the river.

Despite it's isolation, the church had many modern and international connections-there were memorials to the memory of a second world war commando who perished fighting the Japaneses on the island of Timor and a high ranking officer in the Girl Guide movement of Australia.

Even more fascinating and poignant were the inscriptions on the gravestones in the nearby cemetery.

LIEUT.FREDERICK SLADE R.N.BORN-ASTON-UP-THORPE ENGLAND 1787 AND HIS WIFE JANE FROM SCOTLAND

He was born two years before the French Revolution and as his naval career would have had to begin with his enlisting on a man-of-war as a young midshipman, he was likely to have seen action with the Royal Navy,under the command of Admiral Horatio Nelson, against Napoleon's maritime defences.He died in 1849 when Europe,once more,was in turmoil with violent revolutionary uprisings in several countries-but not in Britain, thanks to the service of men like Slade and developing parliamentary democracy.(Better watch it-I have been told this blog is a bit softer in tone than my previous one with all its martial and gory accounts of European history and here in a lonely and quiet Avon valley church yard I have left my mind's gate open and allowed the dogs of war to sneak in.)Such a comparatively quiet and peaceful spot to have ended his days. Both he and his wife died at the same age of 62.

His duty done

On another headstone, as well as recording the death of a loved husband,tribute was paid also to their dear son who had died in France in 1917-"His duty Done" Scratch a corner of Australia and up pops an ANZAC.

AUSTRALIAN MEMORIAL TO AN ANZAC ACT OF COURAGE (COBBERS) AT FROMELLES

I noticed in the Australian the other day that there was an expectation of finding a previously undetected mass grave of Australian troops at Fromelles in France, the first action involving Anzac troops newly arrived from Gallipoli,which could identify many whose only previous memorial was a stone saying-a "soldier known to God" All these cemetery headstones commemorated Wilkerson family members.

This otherwise plain headstone stated that Jane Elizabeth Wilkerson "Departed this life in Christian confidence." A nice way to go.

Abandoned pioneer homestead.

York is charming and like Fremantle demonstrated how towns that evolved developed a lived in atmosphere that Perth has singularly failed to achieve.Now the planners aim to make it like Dohar or other of those Middle Eastern "carpet-bagger" cities.

A YORK WATERING HOLE.

POLICE TROOPERS HOUSE, YORK.

MOTOR MUSEUM,YORK.

THE MINSTER IN ANOTHER YORK
A picture taken in the other, somewhat older York, taken on my Motor home tour of England Scotland and Wales in December, 2007

DREAMING AND WRITING AT POINT PERON

2010-09-03T21:17:00.000-07:00

DREAMING AND WRITING AT POINT PERON-Day of arrival
Arrived after 3PM at a Point Peron beach shack on a glorious 29C afternoon facing the prospect of every day through to Sunday, by the sea, in temperatures of 30C or above. In comparison Melbourne haD rain and temps in the high teens. I will feel cold when I go back for a few days in early April.

Point Peron was a delightful haven close, but far enough away from Perth’s chemical industry complex at Kwinana and Rockingham, to offer a peaceful retreat, in what appeared to be a well kept secret. The shack belonged to the family of my muse, Rae, who was again encouraging me to write, as she did for all those months when I traversed Siberia, Prague, Turkey, Finland etc. Particularly as ,rather than getting in milk for me, she had arranged a supply of very good full bodied red wine from their Nannup vinyard. Cheers!

The shack was precisely that, a real fibro cement classic and could have been part of a TV set for Facey’s Fortunate Life or Come in Spinner, in its depiction of how wartime battlers holidayed by the sea. I wonder what kept it from falling over-you could see light through the bedroom floor. Basic it might have been but it had the necessities-fridge-into which I loaded the frozen goodies and bread that Pete had kindly put in my Esky, plus the powerfully garlic smelling small goods I bought at the Polish butcher’s on Maundy Thursday. Lucky I was sleeping alone as the main bed was on casters and I feared a few good snores could have propelled me through the very thin walls, not to mention the garlic and Peri Peri sauce (another “essential” gift from Pete) on my breath. No wonder he was a legendary shearer’s cook for a while, when he returned restless from Vietnam.

The toys, surf skis, outdoor table settings and barbecue told a story of great past and ongoing family holidays with children and grandchildren as the main focus of loving, entertaining and fun. It felt a good place to bein, to dream and write.

In bathers I waded through the shallows along the beach to a distant point drawn towards a huge, dispersing black and sulphurous cloud that suggested either a chemical plant accident or fire practice that had got out of hand. Reminded me of my first fire crew training at Altona refinery-the men put the HR guy-me-at the front, barely within the spray blanket from protective hose teams, as we went right up to the blaze to turn off the blazing oil spill. Of course they achieved their objective as half my then red beard was reduced to resembling a worn out Brillo pad.

Few people on the beach, but all friendly-a very athletic young man seemed to be rehearsing for a part in the All Black’s Haka, but told me his gyrations were a form of Japanese martial art. A young couple-he still in his work overalls were fishing for whiting and responded good naturedly when I suggested on my return that if they didn’t get a bite soon the chip shop would be closed.

The setting sun’s warmth felt good on my face and I could feel the contrast with the slightly chill sea around my ankles. Good way to shake off the dust and tension of life in the city and open myself to creative inspiration.

As I approached the track leading from the beach, I encountered three jolly ladies, of a certain age, flushed from sampling a bottle of wine in the late sun. They assured me they were bearing up well under the strain of tight capital markets and rising mortgage interest rates. They appeared to me to have got a mortgage on living.

Now for one of Pete’s casseroles and a drop of red. Good way to round off day one

WRITER IN RESIDENCE AT POINT PERON

2010-09-03T21:15:00.000-07:00

THE WALTER SHACK AT POINT PERON
Well there it was in all it's glory-the writer's retreat at Point Peron.Peron by the way was a naturalist serving on Baudin's voyage to explore new Holland sponsored by Napoleon Bonparte. This house could have told a few stories about what had occurred within its walls, with three generations of inhabitants, but probably none so rarified as those I cooked up last week whilst shacked up there to get my stalled novel back on the road.When I started on Tuesday my hero was stuck in the state coal mine in Wonthaggi, his ultimate love interest(although he didn't know it yet, nor did he know he had a son by her) and his "siren" woman was still in Manchester and there was a risk she might come to WA with an ex Aussie first world war fly guy who was about to join Australia's first commercial passenger airline company, Western Australian Airways.

By saturday night I had added almost 9000 words. My hero was through Melbourne, having worked briefly for Monash at the fledgling SEC, survived a torrid sex scene in a Hawthorn Yarra bank gazebo,survived an IRA revenge plot re his earlier doings in Eire, killed a rioter outside the Bryant and May factory in Church Street Richmond (bit quieter now in the street where I live, except when there is a slain gangster funeral at St Ignatius-see TV series Underbelly when you are allowed) and crossed the Nullarbor, escaping possible trial for murder to start a new life in Perth and then on to the Kimberley, with his love interest on her way to Melbourne with said son and soon to be in hot pursuit of the father.So guess what-the novel was poised exactly where I was and where, after a spell back in Melbourne,I will be going for all of May and half of June.Thanks Rae!

The shack may have been a bit venerable but nothing was wrong with the beachscape-it was glorious to take breaks on the seemingly endless 30c days to cycle along the shore and walk partly on the beach and most of the time wading knee deep through the shallows.Most impressive here were the seemingly ubiquitous families. A saturday morning ride to get the papers saw lines of people of all ages wading and swimming out to a diving platform and hordes of kids at the Rockingham cruising yacht club unloading and rigging trailer sailers with plenty of parents backing them up. This is why Australia punches above its weight in sport-they don't wait for the state, the education dept and teachers to develop their children -the parents do it. Wait for it, my fellow pommy friends-most of the parents sound as though they came from Britain, attracted by the wages at the chemical plants, the climate and lifestyle for them and their kids. Message for Gordon Brown et al??

SNAKES ALIVE
Most countries control and prohibit dogs, booze and the like from their beaches but few can have Snake warnings as here in WA-perhaps this was how they control the birth rate or like the Spartans who left their babies unattended on the mountain side to see who survived, this was how the mettle of future fast bowlers and Aussie rules players wasforged-dodging snakes.

Now,time to get back into Perth where it was pouring rain-tail end of a cyclone from where I will be going at the back end of April. Back into the battye library today with a better idea of what I was looking for and in my contrarian manner I must say that Perth seemed preferable to me when it was a bit cooler and wet with rain.

The leaders of the 9th Squadron push left in the morning for Mildura and Tasmania respectively and so I was king of the castle at the Padbury HQ.When I asked what I could do to keep everything in order at the house-Pete had said to be sure to keep the red wine blending barrel flowing over.Fortunately Rae had provided me with some premium bottles of red from the family Nannup vineyard and so I was self-sustained, so to speak. The sister of one of the Vietnam mafia members would be coming in to check things out-she taught for a few years in Cambodia. I would certainly be standing by my bed.

HEADING NORTH AGAIN

2010-09-03T01:52:00.000-07:00

UNIVERSITY OF WA
Those who know me well, especially my friend Sandra who is a champion list maker and inveterate pre-planner, who despairs of my in-my-head planning, as I am about to go out the door to somewhere ordinary like Siberia! would be amazed to see that I had actually got round to mapping out a schedule for the next stage of my songlines road trip( after I have returned from Melbourne on 21 April)up the WA Coral Coast to Broome.But don't get too carried away, it is only tentative and may vary considerably when I get going.

BAR AND CAFE-CABLE BEACH RESORT BROOME
The reason for floating this in advance is that, whilst I had taken some local advice on places I must go and things I must see and do, I would appreciate any additional suggestions from my readers.There is a facility for commenting on the blog or if you are shy send a direct email.Thanks.

CAMEL TRAIN ON CABLE BEACH-BROOME

SUNSET IN BROOME

On the Songlines Road (Via Coral Coast to Broome)

Day 1. (Perth-Geraldton)

1) 115k New Norcia.
• Spanish Benedictine mission 1846

(2) 196k Nambung( National Park.)
• The Pinnacles

(3)188k Dongara.
• Pleasant little port town

(4) 73k Geraldton -Total 572k.
• Fresh lobster.
• Maritime museum.
• St Francis Xavier cathedral.
• Art Gallery.
• Waverley Heights look out.

Day 2. (Geraldton-Denham)

(5) 73k Kalbari.
• National Park. (Gorges) Loop, Z bend,
• Hawk’s head, Ross graham, Lookouts
• Cliff faces. Red Bluff, Rainbow valley,
• Pot alley, Eagle Gorge, Natural Bridge.

(6) 373k Denham-Total 446k
• Monkey Mia

Day 4 (Denham-Coral bay)

(7) 324k Carnarvon.
• Fruit(bananas)
• HMAS Sydney memorial

(8)155k Coral Bay-Total 479k
• Ningaloo Reef

Day 5. (Coral Bay-Tom Price)

(9) 623kTom Price- Total 623
• Mine Tour
• Karinjini national park-Dales/Knox/Hamersley Gorges

Day 7 (Tom Price-Broome)

(10) 260k Port Hedland.

(11) 567k Broome-Total 827

Perth-Broome-Total 2947

RECOULER POUR MIEUX SAUTER

2010-09-03T01:50:00.000-07:00

RECOULER POUR MIEUX SAUTER
This is a very useful French expression which suggests that stepping back and reflecting enables one to advance more effectively. So, tonight, I am taking this advice and leaving on the red eye special to arrive in Melbourne at around 5:30am Tuesday in a probable 10°C. The fibre pile jacket and red Goretex jacket, much in evidence in Goingnorth2 photos, will be close to hand. I recall leaving this flight years ago when returning from a long weekend assignation in Perth. It was 3C with sleet blowing down the Tullamarine freeway. The exclamation that escaped the lips of a woman in front of me is unrepeatable in polite society. But then it was July.
FIRST DAY IN SOUTH PERTH

There are practical reasons for returning but at the same time it will prepare me better for the journey north to escape Perth for the more rarified atmosphere of Melbourne.
7TH SEPTEMBER 2006 IN MELBOURNE

DE GRAVES STREET AND MAJORCA BUILDING-ENTRY TO MELBOURNE'S EXOTIC LANES

SUNDAY IN DOCKLANDS

HISTORY OF VIC-"GRAFFITI" WALL.DIMMEY'S WALL-RICHMOND

ARTIST HARD AT IT COME RAIN COME SHINE.

I indicated before starting this journey that Perth was unlikely to hold out much attraction for me and that has been confirmed by this visit.Apart from the quirky character, comradeship and generous hospitality of my brother in law, the 9th squadron boys, the inspirational solitude of Point Peron, the ambience of Fremantle and Subiaco, the rest was like a big city film set behind whose mock-up towers one found a very boring country town.
LANDING THE CATCH-FREMANTLE

I guess WA has always suffered from being a boom and bust state. Its early history shows how fortunate accidents continued to save the colony-gold discovery in Kalgoorlie and gold, opals, pearls and cattle drovers which opened up the Kimberley. Then came Lang Hancock, Bond and Fortescue and the rest is history.
As a result of this, corporate, government and individual wealth seems to be perpetually out of step with the need to develop social capital, effective, ethical government and an outward looking mind set. Where else in Australia would a government and business tycoons form an unholy and dangerous alliance to attack a newspaper (even though it badly needs reforming/competition-thank God for the Australian) It is noticeable how many of its better leaders choose to play on the national stage and live in the East. Both the physical isolation of Perth and its history suggest it really isn’t in Australia. Every time I stopped someone to ask for direction everywhere from Albany to Fremantle they were as new as me to the place and invariably displayed British regional accents, which told me much about their social origins and the likely attitudes they had brought here. Otherwise they were South Africans who knew where to buy Boerwurst and jerky and when the Western Force was playing a South African provincial team.

"Stamford" pub near "Scarborough"beach-close to Bondy's hotel-but then he was a Pom gone astray, too.

I felt a little sad and disappointed nonetheless as together with Mildura, Perth had played a significant part in my romantic life, a partner of four years coming from there to live with me in St Kilda and my former wife studied at U.W.A. But as the pop song has it “You can’t always get what you want”. Still, I will remember the miles of empty suburban beaches, the endless sunshine and puffing up the long hill from Sorrento marina, on my bike, with the sun in my eyes, the wind against me and the Australian and Fin review tucked into the back pocket of my cycling shirt. Nannup wines leave an after taste to be savoured at leisure and not easily forgotten

Enough of looking back. Forward to Melbourne and then the wild North West.
OH FOR MY OWN ARM CHAIR

HE LIVED, LOVED AND TRAVELLED WELL

2010-09-03T01:46:00.000-07:00

JOHN,CENTRE STAGE

HE LIVED,LOVED AND TRAVELLED WELL!
I went to John Button’s state funeral today and despite the presence of the mostly Australian Labor Party great and good and various groupies, there was no doubting who was the star of the show.

There was Bill Hayden and John Caine to ensure his enshrinement in the Labor party hall of fame but much more riveting of attention were, Morag Fraser, who spoke of his literary interests and skills and best of all his son, the journalist, James Button, who fought off his emotions long enough to give us a vivid picture of a father as political operator who found time still to be a father, husband, grandfather, mentor,story teller, football tragic and lover of several women.

Good stories were told and this was an entertainment as well as goodbye ceremony, as evidenced by the applause for each speaker and for John as they carried his coffin from the “stage’ of St Michael’s.

Dr Francis MacNab, presided and told that when he was putting together a book about how older men coped with aging and mortality, he went to see his friend of 58 years, John Button, to seek his contribution. John had just returned from the Richmond Gym (where I came to know him through an incident of mistaken identity-when he had a beard we looked a little alike to women who greeted me on the Richmond streets) and as Francis asked him his opinion on the topic, John was sitting down to breakfast and took a very burnt piece of bread from the toaster, smeared it thickly with butter and ate it. Francis took this as sufficient answer and put it in the book, despite John’s initial protest that his trainer wouldn’t like it.

Jim Kennan spoke of John the joker, who once at the airport having got off the same flight ahead of Jim, was to be found in the arrival hall amongst the chauffeurs holding up a card with Jim’s name on it. It seemed also, that he had a habit of buying quantities of post cards from wherever he went and which he would send to all and sundry (even once to Bronwyn Bishop!), sometimes even 10 years later, when the moment seemed right to him, such that recipients wondered how he could be both in Moscow and Mexico city at almost the same time. He wrote newspaper articles and sent challenging letters under the pseudonym of ‘Cartwright” to political opponents and allies alike and the Geelong football team Coach, such that some threatened to do terrible things to this writer if they ever tracked him down.
GOODBYE JOHN!

There were many present (including our new woman Deputy Prime Minister)who had gained higher political office and even outlived John, but none I think that could hold a candle to him as a human being and wonderfully complex, contrarian and charismatic man. Truly, as the Financial Review columnist said of him earlier this week, “He lived, loved and travelled well! Goodbye John! I will certainly miss you.
STOPPING THE TRAFFIC IN COLLINS STREET

NORTH FROM PERTH 23-26 APRIL

2010-09-03T01:24:00.001-07:00

Steel-grey rainy morning as I waded through the rush hour traffic, out of Perth.Rain, seen so little by me here,was like tears in mourning for my departure. The young woman who made my coffee at the breakfast stop was very excited about the downpour and said that an April record was in the offing.

NEW NORCIA MONASTERY IN THE RAIN
New Norcia appeared, not as grand as in the tourist photographs and had not Rae advised me to take in their art gallery and museum I would have been totally underwhelmed.It had an abundance of dreamy adoration paintings by European masters, but what made the exhibition great was the contrast with contemporary works, especially the 'dot motif' three wise men, by an Aboriginal woman. the commemoration of the Aboriginal boarding school fully captured the catch 22 of attempts to both educate and assimilate indigenous kids.

GERALDTON FIRST STOP

HMAS SYDNEY MEMORIAL

WIFE WAITING FOR NEWS
We also serve who can but only stand and wait

Apart from the distinctive cathedral and the wonderfully sighted HMAS Sydney memorial,Geraldton proved to be a working port town much like Esperance, although they seemed to have done a better job of presenting their city centre.This where Randolph Stow grew up and first fired up his imagination-perhaps as I did in Manchester-to escape inside my mind.

It must rain very hard here as the camp site provided shelters under which tents could be pitched.

ACROSS THE 36TH PARALLEL-24/04/2008

The sign announcing the crossing of the 36th parallel welcomes you to the Northwest.
A side trip to Kalbari and its national park gorges was rewarding. It is a great family resort town and proved to be the best I encountered before Broome. Mining income investment was obvious in the quantity and quality of new homes.

The gorges were beautiful and even with a very low Murchison river. The red rock cliffs impressed. Sad that one was named after a primary school head and conservator who had died at the untimely age of 31.Another long drive from the highway to the coast(a disadvantage of this coast when compared with Vic's great Ocean road and the Pacific Highway north through NSW and Queensland)took me to Denham which I'm glad I didn't stay at-cafes very poor and no tea available after 4pm. Despite being warned that the Monkey Mia campsite was chockers, I pushed on and they were right. School holiday long weekend (Anzac day Friday)and the lure of the dolphins had really pulled the families in. I was told that if I could find a spot on the lawn I should come back and pay. My little swag fitted so neatly between 2 tents that their occupants almost trod on me in the night. Never do I want to camp like that again-give me the showerless and toiletless bush.

DOLPHINS NOT DIGGERS ON ANZAC DAY-25/04

Dawn at Monkey Mia
But, having the dolphins swim up to me within touching distance, in the early morning, made it all worth while.
COMMUNING WITH DOLPHINS

Such beautiful, intelligent, trusting creatures. I was fascinated by the snorkel hole in their heads through which they breathed. As they waited for food they posed on their sides, flashing their undersides like coquettish women.

APPETITES BIGGER THAN BEAKS AND BELLIES

These opportunistic guys would have liked a feed too but the dolphins were just too great a challenge

Then the long drive back to the highway and hopefully t be in time for the Carnarvon Anzac day service.Not many people on the road at 7:30 am but as I came round a bend I met two of WA's finest in a forward looking radar car. I stopped for a chat with these charming young men, one of whom grew up in Kununurra in the Kimberley and who gave me advice on walking up there, whilst his partner charged me $150 for the service. At least the demerit points did not apply to my Victorian licence.

Keeping my speed down to 110klms, I drove the rest of the morning to Carnarvon a town known for its bananas and tropical fruit. It was noticeably hotter, the flies very bad and plenty of Aboriginals with evidence of injuries no doubt caused by some form of internecine strife.

LEST WE FORGET
I arrived just in time to witness the closing phase of the Anzac day service at the cenotaph, including the last post and minute's silence for those fallen in all wars.I got away first and so headed the queue for breakfast at a nearby cafe. After a brisk exchange of text messages with melbourne from party invitees, I complimented the owner on the presentation of her food(not to mention the trio of delightful blond daughters who served at table)-Guess what, she hailed from Mordialloc in Vic and goes back at every opportunity.What is this thing between Mordialloc and WA?

Not much otherwise to commend Carnarvon and so another 150klms to Coral Bay which proved to be a mistake. Despite it being the jumping off point for the Ningaloo reef, it was again "Bogan" territory, crowded, noisy and without any town infrastructure at all. The dearest camp fee so far $30-I noticed petrol had hit $1.80per litre compared with the highway price of $1.65-it was nothing to write home about. A walk on the beach turned up an interesting companion, whilst sat on a rock, I asked a passing young man the cause of the continuous jet plane sounding rumble and he confirmed it was surf on the distant reef.He was on for a chat and told me that although born in France he now lived on La Reunion a French department island near Mauritius, where he had taught and planned to start a diving school.He was a marine biologist and had worked on research out of Exmouth to perfect his "diving" English and was now skivvying at the local bakery, on the way to Brisbane from whence he was off to Vanuatu with his cousin. So we found much to discuss, including the undemocratic EU and the antics of president Sarkozy.I invited Francois to call on me if in Melbourne for a guided tour.

In the evening I found a reasonable cafe which served decent Americam style ribs and not over priced beer. Much warmer now. No need for a sleeping bag that night. my passage north had been heralded by signs announcing 36th parallel, tropic of Capricorn and most attention grabbing of all-"This iss cyclone season-have you checked the weather forecast for the road ahead?" Welcome to the NW of WA.

CAPRICORNIA AND KANGAROOS
Rained at dawn and had to pull full canvas cover over my swag. Pleased to be away by 6:30am-big mistake as in the gloom a large red kangaroo leapt out of the roadside darkness into my car. It flew through the air and disappeared, stone dead into the bush.

POOR LITTLE CAR!
The bonnet was crumpled, fender bent and driver's door only partly openable-but after recovering from the shock I found the car driveable and went on my way.Passed police doing their job on a 4 wheel drive back on the highway.

INTO THE PILBARA
Suddenly the flat savannah gave way to cowboy movie-reminiscent red mesas and the road began to climb-many ranges in sight. Clearly I had entered iron ore mining country.Parabadoo and Mount Tom Price were awful mining camp towns-shades of old SEC barracks towns in the Victorian Alps. Tourist bureau closed, neither sign of mine tour facilities nor suitable look out point, so moved on.
REAL BUSH CAMPING ONCE MORE

Booked two nights bush camping in the Karajini gorges national park. No shower but real camping and a pleasure to get my big tent up for a while, to cook on my own gas stove and read until later in the night by my gas lantern, entertained by the death defying fascination of moths,crickets and even a preying mantis for the light.The night was one of magical full moonlight and a sparkling carpet of stars. I was awoken by a prowling dingo exploring my camp and the howling of it and its mates during the dark hours. Otherwise the bush was deathly quiet until the glorious dawn chorus chirruped a new day.

PILBARA GORGES

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There is a wide selection of gorges and choosing between them was dictated by a combination of distance and their comparative spectacle. It took 46 kilometres of dirt road driving to get to the prime site which was made even less pleasant by the inconsiderate driving of mining company and exploration company employees. Their pennant toting tray trucks barrelled along in clouds of dust, often not even bothering to adhere to their side of the road.

But the vista from the viewing platform set above the junction of four mighty gorges was well worth the effort.

TRIBUTE TO JIMMY REGAN
On a tragic note, a striking celtic cross, thick with floral tributes,marked the heroism of an Irish rescue worker who drowned in a 2004 flash flood whilst pulling people from the bottom of the drowned canyon.

A CAUTIONARY TALE
As I took the staircase leading down into the bowels of Meago canyon there was a stark warning of the possible hazards-the warnings of deaths and need for wet suits and special skills dissuaded me from taking the route down into the deepest part of the canyon system and instead I walked along a stream bed beneath towering red sedimentary rock walls.This seemed safe enough but one had to remember that in the event of heavy rain all of this space would be filled with a mighty torrent of water.

FORTESCUE FALLS GORGE

FERN POOL
I was hot when I returned to camp and set off, at once, on foot for the Fortescue Falls and the lovely Fern Pool which provided excellent, refreshing swimming in warmish water. Even the waterfalls were warm.
BACK TO THE COASTAL HIGHWAY
The run back to the coast road was a mix of magnificent red mountain scenery-one expected 'Indian scouts" to shadow my "wagon train" from adjacent mesas-and flat, featureless spinifex plains.At last I attained the Northern highway again and came to horrible Port Hedland. The first sight of it was giant mounds of salt being loaded onto ships and otherwise its approach reminded me of Wollongong and Newcastle in the 60s when BHP did what it pleased environmentally and was not questioned.Pleased to read in Tim Winton's "Dirt Music" that he agreed with my take on the place

All that was edible in a small cafe, in the centre of town, was a sausage roll( usually never eat them )the middle aged lady who served me was friendly and helpful but looked a bit work worn. So I was heartened when a man in reflector safety overalls came in, hugged and kissed her-obviously her man going on shift. At least love flourished despite the dust and ugliness of that place.

I took a risk, considering the kangaroo clash in poor light,in pushing on 300k to Sanfire roadhouse, which I could just make by dark, placing me half way to Broome.I should have stopped at Pardoo roadhouse which had a grassy camp site and tempting licensed restaurant. i found to my regret that Sanfire's hotel had burnt down, the campsite and showers were disgusting( at least only $5) and the last half hour of driving risky, with roos and cattle at the roadside.

SANFIRE SUNSET

BACK TO BROOME 29-30 APRIL 2008

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300k to Broome and made it before mid-day.Booked a good shady camp site at a park behind the Cable Beach hotel. Then for breakfast at the Shady Lane cafe( a real find by Sandra on our last trip there-yes sandra, still not sold and under the same ownership and they can still do excellent eggs benedict)a cool spot under palm trees.

SHADY LANE CAFE
What one say about Broome? Clearly the best town on the NW coast of WA and a veritable oasis after all I had travelled through to get there. This is largely thanks to the preservation work financed by Lord Macalpine when he was treasurer to Margaret Thatcher's Conservative party. Now tourism is expanding it as a resort and mining incomes are throwing up the sort of suburbs one sees in Bunbury, Mandurah and the northern outskirts of Perth ( sort of miners rest homes in the tropics-what would Macalpine have made of that?.)at least some of the rewards are staying in the area rather than just gold plating Perth and environs.
Walked 2 miles along the beach on the next morning and in the evening attended the mandatory camel parade at sunset.
CAMELS AND SUNSET ON CABLE BEACH

Still very sad to see so many 'lost' aboriginals lying under the trees when labour is being imported. As I left Broome there were allegations on the radio that the local fire brigade had turned their hoses on them during practice.
On my final morning there, a cruise ship was in-the lanes were full of 'odd couples'with one of each showing signs of wearing out (a salutary warning to make the most of my remaining active years) Service at the Shady lane was overwhelmed. Mobile phone conversations at a volume suggesting no need for a phone to reach the other party, destroyed the tranquility. Time to move out. Derby, here I come.

WINDJANA GORGE

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DERBY OR THE BUSH?
"Derby!' not Darby asserted Rae, just as she had corrected me about the pronunciation of Albany and Pt Peron. "we're different in the west!" says she.Wasn't I coming to realise that? Where would I have been without my corrective muse? This reminded me of debates with my father ( he was even more stubborn than me) who counter-intuitively, insisted on calling England's Derby, Derby instead of the correct pronunciation"Darby".Rae was also right when she warned me that Derby was a "locked down" town as a result of the Federal Government's Aboriginal intervention strategy.
It was awful-its main industry seemd to be government hand out departments and its streets and roads were full of seemingly, aimlessly wandering aboriginals. It reminded me of my visits to South african apartheid townships.Its only redeeming feature was the nearby Prison tree-an ancient hollowed out giant boab tree that had functioned as a temporary lock up-used mostly for aboriginal tribesmen who had resisted white settlement.
DERBY PRISON TREE

Although late in the day, I guessed I could still 'risk" the only initially sealed Gibb river road to reach the Windjana Gorge National Park camp site by dark.Despite a few worrying moments on the final unsealed section of the 140k run,I made it by the skin of my teeth. The swag was the easy option rather than trying to assemble the big tent in the dark.

WALKING THE WINDJANA
The next day I set up my big tent in the shade of trees during the cool of early morning and set off to walk the gorge. Its walls were once(350million years ago) part of a giant reef of the same size as the great barrier reef and were worn down by rivers when the sea receded.

DON'T FEED THE CROCS!
At the gorge entrance was an early warning not to disturb the fresh water crocs.
I was to encounter many of them both sleeping on sand bars
CROC SIESTA

and floating in what was left of the Lennard river.
JUST DRIFTING

Whilst not being as inherently dangerous as the giant saltwater species, they would attack if cornered or harassed and at a metre long with impressive teeth, they looked very capable of defending themselves.

HOT SANDY RIVER BED
Walking, much of it on a sandy dry river bed that reflected the heat, became tiring sfter an hour and a half and so I turned back and returned to camp at a more leisurely pace, continuing to spot crocodiles in repose.

A PRIZE SPECIMEN
A siesta was called for on such a hot and windy afternoon, which was followed by a delightfully mild night and after dinner,I finished Tim Winton's Dirt music emcouraged by a few glasses of single malt whiskey ( great mosquito antidote)
Marie Dumais had recommended I read him and i was glad to say her insistance opened my closed mind about Winton. He was not just focused on southern WA surf drop outs and in fact his hero in that book paralleled my journey north to Broome and beyond, in search of himself and lost love. I agreed with many of his observations about the towns and country en route.
TUNNEL CREEK TO HALLS CREEK.
In November 1894,an Aboriginal tracker called Jandamarra(known as Pidgeon)shot two police colleagues and then led a band of renegade band of aboriginals on raids through the Napier Range area. he killed another 4 people but in 1897 he was trapped and killed at Tunnel creek.
Tunnel creek offers a 700 metre long walk through a dark and in places waterlogged tunnel. I entered it, without a torch and with no intention of wading, chest deep, in the dark, through icy water, to do the whole walk. First encounter with the most slippery, marble like rocks, shaky tree limbs and the immediate need to wade, confirmed my decision not to go there.A smartly attired German motorcycling couple, who had camped near me,came to the same conclusion.

TO CROSS OR NOT TO CROSS?
A Frenchman had warned me of water across the road ahead and the Germans were concerned for their smart BMWs. We agreed to help each other if we got stuck.The first crossing I encountered was easy but the second floodway looked decidedly tricky for a little Honda to navigate.I waded both to check depths and had horribly smelly feet for the rest of the day.the right hand side looked possible and the Honda jazz did it with ease and took in no water.
The rest of the dirt road across to the main highway was marked by the proud beauty of the numerous boab trees. they come in two modes, silky grey-skinned beauties,for all the world like perennially pregnant maidensand proud of it( no need for NGALA rescue mission here Rae)otherwise they are hugely fat and life-scarred, like deformed grannies. Such was the famous one near Derby which had been used as a prison lock-up.

SILKY-GREY BEAUTY

GUARDING THE RAMPARTS

TRULY A GREY, GNARLED, GRANNY

Many stood defiantly against the red rock escarpment like Tolkien's combative Ents, defending their own against the Orcs and evil powers out of Mordor.
it was bliss to be back on the tarmac but Fitzroy Crossing was another, uneventful, disappointing place. the mighty river was but a fraction of its wet season power. Mile upon mile of spinifex plain and savannah grasslands accompanied me all the way to Halls Creek-no wonder the pastoralists revelled on it in the 1840s. The Brahma cross cattle grazed by the road side-many of them a lovely milky grey colour and were more sensible than Roos when contemplating a road crossing.

Halls Creek was a gold rush town and its brief period of glory helped cement the infrastructure necessary to ensure the ultimate triumph of the cattle industry.At every roadhouse, I had to queue behind hordes of Aborigines who were returning home from a football game and restocking on coke and carbohydrates. No newspapers available!!

The camp site was stark but cheap($11 per night)Contrastingly the pub had stylish poolside dining(I barely qualified to enter, in a dress code sense.The main bar was more my go. Great counter meals(lamb shanks) and multiple plasma TV screens showing live Rugby League and AFL matches. it felt friendly,clean and safe(had to unlock car park gate to get out)and they let me recharge my mobile phone.

ROAD TO KUNUNURRA
Set off at 6:30am to the next small town as there were helicopter flights from there over the Bngle Bungles. Glorious morning and the road passed through lovely rolling ridges cloaked in lush post-monsoonal greenery and the plains were densely forested.A real garden of eden that would soon be dessicated and withered by the dry season sun. the next stop(140klms) was an aboriginal community with the very welcome Turkey Creek roadhouse. Managed,as ever, by a white family and with a very clean cafe.
Alas, I was the only prospective helicopter passenger and it was not economical for them to fly with but one. So much for arriving early on a slow day.Radio reception had been poor for some time-could barely hear the testimonial to the amazing John Cargah, but ofcourse, would you believeit?-there was no escaping the ubiquitous "Macca on a Sunday morning". Also, I picked up the great news that Boris Johnson had toppled "red" Ken Livingstone from the Mayoralty of London and Gordon Brown's discredited and morally bankrupt Labour party had been trashed in local council elections. Goodbye nanny state?
CDS are a saving grace in such remote places and the interaction of the heat,scenery and certain types of classical music is both soothing, refreshing and stimulating, especially when it's 380klms to the next stop and cool drink. Peter had burned a few composite CDs for me and the cello concertos of Elgar and Dvorak and the crystal clear, English tones of Dame Janet Baker were far from out of place in this tough terrain.Also, they took me back to happy memories of the lush green English countryside on summer evenings, when I was savouring the thought of a pint of real ale at the next pub-a mere 10klms away!

KUNUNURRA
With its huge reservoir, which contains ten times the volume of water in Sydney harbour, Kununurra is clearly the heart beat of this area. But here was the perennial problem of stupified aboriginal men prostrate on the grass, in the green spaces and others grouped around public amenities-supermarkets, tourist centre etc. I camped for one night and having been warned that my Honda could not cope with the unsealed kimberley roads, weighed up the cost of tours-especiallly those based on flights, I decided to hire a sturdy 4 wheel drive.

TO THE BUNGLE BUNGLES 5 MAY 2008

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I was lucky to get one of the last available hires in town as there was a big muster planned for the next week-blessing of the pastoral stations.The gleaming white Nissan Patrol seemed like a truck after driving the Jazz for so long.

THE BIG WHITE BUSH CHARIOT
But how glad I was to have hired it when I faced the first few kilometres of the Mabel Downs Station road on the way into Purnululu (which means sandstone in the local aboriginal dialect) National Park.The Jazz's exhaust muffler would have been shredded very quickly and the first metre deep deep water crossing would have been the death of it.

SERIOUSLY DEEP WATER HOLE.
The 4x4 more than coped and even as dark came on I felt as comfortable as when I owned Range Rovers and Discoveries.
A total fire ban was in force and as I cooked my dinner on my gas stove, a sheepish group of German gap-year students plus one boy from Wigan sought my help as they had counted on barbecuing their dinner on an open fire.They managed with my cooker and utensils.
What a great way to bridge between school and university. The English man had worked on a Queensland cattle station. All I did in vacations was make black puddings at Wall's smallgoods factory and abbatoir.

LOOKOUT VIEW ACROSS PURNULULU
Wherever you go in the park there are glorious vistas, including red rock escarpments that seem to go on for ever.In just getting from A to B the scenery is awesome.This park was probably the highlight of my trip.It is no doubt very grand from the air but passing through at ground level is an experience not to be missed.
NORTHERN BUNGLES GORGES

ECHIDNA GORGE
The walk up to Echidna gorge was hot and uncomfortable under foot(walking on river bed pebbles and boulders)but the way became cooler as the 200 foot high walls closed in until the trail was one person wide.The narrowness reminded me of a visit to Ripon Cathedral in my school days where I was fascinated by a narrow hole in a rock, in the crypt, through which suspects of witchcraft were required to pass to attest their innocence or guilt( if they could not)thus determining whether they were released or burnt at the stake. Could be a sure fire obesity deterrent.

ENTERING THE GORGE

INTO THE FIERY FURNACE
This continued to narrow until it required ladder climbing and came to a dead end.Large chunks of conglomerate rock were jammed in the cleft overhead and ensured I didn't dawdle at these points.

THE ROCK OF DAMOCLES
I found this gorge a little disappointing after Winjana and so decided to drive south to the more dramatic sounding Coronation Gorge.

TO THE SOUTHERN GORGES

What a difference, here were the wonderful striped bee-hive shaped mounds of the Bungle Bungles which in varied light could be seen as brooding Tawny Frog-Mouthed owls

I'M WATCHING YOU!
or even rows of Darth Vader helmets,radiating evil menace.

DARTH VADER AND MATES

CORONATION GORGE
The walk was short but rewarding-The striping of the 350 million year old rocks was endlessly fascinating and caused by the sedimentation of sandstone,iron-oxide and bacterial staining layers.

ROCK FORMATION IN CORONATION GORGE
In places it required iron staircase climbing to get past deeply pot-holed parts of the river bed track.

IRON STAIRCASE
I had entered the park with half a tank of fuel and had not really anticipated all the running about in there and the toll that driving in full 4x4 mode took on reserves,but I calculated that a quarter tank would see me out across the 53K of rough dirt track and back to the Turkey Creek roadhouse.
PICCANINNY GORGE-MAY 7TH

DANGEROUS WALK-YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
This is the park's most demanding challenge-a 16klm return walk along a creek to a gorge which goes on even further. Sometimes it is done as an overnight trek and all manner of warnings were issued-beware heat,no drinkable water, be sure to register your intentions at the ranger station.
Maybe I get more careless or indifferent to such dangers as I get older. The women in my life who have gone bush with me,would attest to my usual packing of all manner(what if)of seemingly superfluous gear in even more benign circumstances than these.
The litre of water I carried was insufficient as I had underestimated the radiant heat coming from the rocky river bed track ( raising a tolerable 30C to approaching 40c by mid-day)

HOT ROCK RIVER BED TRACK
Despite my brisk start over a smooth rock creek bed after 3 hours the 35c heat, little shade and the sapping terrain which had turned English beach style pebbles and sand.

THE TRACK GOES ON AND ON
The return was tough and towards the seventh hour when my water ran outi began to feel a bit woosy and the wise decision to strip off and immerse my overheated body in one of the brackish pools( no danger of crocs here)

WATER! WATER!BUT NOT DRINKABLE
Continuation of this practice, sucking a pebble and soaking my hat and camouflage veil at every spot of water helped me make it back.

LONG DRY WAY BACK
To keep me cool in mind and spirit,I composed a children's story and thought of the scene in the classic British war film-Ice Cold in Alex-in which the desert survivors contemplate tall glasses of icy cold lager in an Alexandria bar.There was nothing ice cold awaiting me-the park store had closed at 4pm and I felt so whacked, I couldn't even eat and went to bed at 7pm

TO EL QUESTRO STATION-MAY 8TH
on the way out the fuel was consumed at an alarming rate and for the last 20k of dirt road the low fuel light was on.it was a relief to hit the bitumen but Turkey creek was a fair way off. After yesterday's experience, walking a hot highway did not fill me with joy and so I was very glad to make the roadhouse without running dry( I was to learn that there was a pretty capacious reserve tank in the vehicle)
But, ironically, as is often the way up here, the fuel pumps were malfunctioning and I could only get $50 worth of diesel to take me to Doon Doon roadhouse, where I filled up and had a better quality breakfast than I had experienced on my previous visit in the Jazz to Turkey Creek.
WYNDHAM
Wyndham is so featureless as to be hardly worth a mention-even the so called 5 rivers look out was not worth driving up to. Don't go there.
How tame was my return to the Gibb river road in a tough 4x4 and thank goodness because the brave Jazz could not have waded the river that crossed the road into El Questro Station.
This is one of the premier resort destinations in the Kimberley but as this was a budget trip and as I had no "soft" campers in tow, I forewent the luxury homestead and took a bush camp spot. Mustn't have boiled the water as well as i had thought because I suffered the runs all night and couldn't eat. ( more likely a reaction to the punishment my body took on the Piccaninny creek walk and which it had now.
decided to tell me about)Still a good fat retardant.The next day was one of quiet recovery-dry toast and coffee seemd to placate the errant gut.

EL QUESTRO BAR/CAFE
I drove into the very pleasant main camp site for a welcome hot shower and sat at a cafe table to update my journal and plan an El questro walk.The runs returned and so took it easy for the rest of the day.
TO CHAMPAGNE SPRINGS
I decided to tackle El Q's most challenging walk-a 10klm round trip to a refreshing thermal spring.Mostly because of attending to domestics-doing washing etc.-didn't get going until 10am. So yet again 2 hours of rock-hopping in the heat of the day but this time rewarded by a refreshing swim in the waterfall fed pools of Champagne springs.

CHAMPAGNE SPRINGS POOL
As I went to slip into the pool a small water monitor ( like a mini-crocodile)shot into the water ahead of me-but there seemd to be no hazards.On the way backI managed to frighten a fresh water crocodile off the track and into the river.

ANYONE FOR A COOLING DIP?
on my return, drank two bottls of sprite and booked for the evening's BBQ. This turned out to be fun-shared a table under the stars by the fire with a delightful couple from NZ-he was a textile entrepreneur with business in Melbourne.There was a country and western singer, bush yarn teller and whip cracking.A tour guide from Kununurra, I met at the bar,contradicted the Dept of Main Roads advice of closed roads ahead and confirmed it was possible to get along the Kulumburu road.

TO KULUMBURU ROAD MAY 11TH-MOTHER'S DAY
Back on the Gibb river road heading west and lots of road crews in action repairing the damage done in the wet season.I managed two rather daunting river crossings-especially one at the Pentecost river, which is tidal,about 80 metres wide and full of deadly salt water crocs.

BEWARE 'SALTIES' IN RIVER

PENTECOST TIDAL RIVER CROSSING
The biggest I encountered.Not advisable to wade in to check the water depth.A truck driver was filling his water tanker on the other bank and signalled to guide me safely across as though he were helping me park a plane at the airport docking stand.The road was proving tougher than I had expected and goodness knows what the Kulumburu section would be like.I even passed a small bush fire lapping at the road. edge.
Made a smart choice in stopping at Ellenbrae station where a lady cooked me a great breakfast9 because she wasn't too busy) for $15 with coffee money going to fund the fling doctor service.I sat on a tropical shade verandah surrounded by the cooling shade of palms and plants. Geese and chooks wandered in and out. Looked like good no nonsense place to stay.
What an amazing proud and powerful land. great cliff walls march along for miles and stand out alone on vast grassy,scrubby tree plains. Out of nowhere come strong rivers that must form massive barriers in the wet season. There was constant sunshine and dry heat in the 30's. How hard it must have been for the drovers and other pioneer pastoralists to open up this vast land and survive it.Night comes on suddenly at 6pm. One minute there is dusk and then it's pitch black.Birds swoop home to their nests as bats set out for a night on the town. The sound of birdlife gradually subsides, leaving absolute silence and the stars. The nights are becoming noticeably cooler and I will be glad of my warm winter sleeping bag in the centre in June.
Up to my stopping point at Drysdale River station the Kalumburu road was better than the Gibb river road. This was a basic camping place but the people were fun.Had a tough pork chop dinner and a few beers-not much choice as post-wet supplies had not yet arrived ( a truck rolled in after dark with the first of the dry season relief necessities)Sat round a fire with a ranger( from Darwin) who seemed to know the country well.Was advised I could get to the Kulumburu mission but that I might have to wade the King edward river to access the rock art sites on the mitchell plateau,as my 4 wheel drive lacked a snorkel feature and the river was still high.

TO KALUMBARU AND BACK 12 MAY

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What a difference in the northern part of the Kalumbaru road.Suddenly you pass through belts of luxuriant palms intermingled with spindly gums.

BURN-OFF FIRE BY THE ROAD
The grass stood a metre high and there was lots of evidence of burning-off having taken place whilst the foliage was still damp.

PALMS AMONGST THE GUMS
At the Mitchell Plateau turn-off,a road sign said that the Kalumbaru road was not yet open, so I decided to explore the track to the plateau first. It was terrible-really extreme 4x4 terrain and to get to the falls would have been a bone jarring experience. At the 8klm point I confronted the King Edward river crossing-it was a lovely spot and there were signs of previous camping and picnicing.

DODGY KING EDWARD RIVER CROSSING(Not as benign as at first looked)
There was nobody else about , the depth of the crossing looked suspect and as I had been warned that I might not make it without a snorkel and did not want to risk wading it on my own, I had a tea break and then beat a retreat back to the main road. This was very frustrating as I had counted on seeing the rock art on the plateau.
Back on the road I ignored the sign and set off north towards the Kalumburu mission station. Then things really began to get testing of the vehicle and me.There were deep gullies,rock hard ruts, long boggy sections one of which had held up a Telstra truck for several days.These were best circumnavigated by bashing through the bush alongside the road to create a parallel side track.There was plenty of wild life around , especially cheeky, challenging dingos which trotted in front of the car before loping off into the bush when the car was Getting up to 60kph.

DINGOS RULE,O.K?
in addition, huge bulls, wild horses, emus and even a few kangaroos stood in or crossed my path on the dirt road.

A VERY ROUGH ROAD AHEAD
I was relieved to meet some guys coming the other way( one towing a caravan)who assured me I would get through and I did. The river crossing was easy and graders had cut through what would have otherwise been impassible sand dunes, thrown up by retreating wet season floods.

I arrived at the mission-one of the remotest in Australia-around noon as everything was closing for lunch and there appeared no certainty that the community centre, where I needed to get a permit, would re-open that day.Thre was a general air of manjana and nobody seemed ( or more likely admitted to knowing) to Know anything.I tried to find camp sites on the sea shore but to no avail. I became frustrated ( wrong attitude)and having failed to get help or advice from the nuns and brothers in the mission store, perhaps unwisely I left at 3pm-heading back south the way I had come.
kalumburu was far from inspiring.The mission was founded by a member of the new Norcia community and in its modern manifestation, all the community buildings were protected by steel shutters and grills.The walls were plastered with posters about government sponsored schemes. The army was there, doing infrastructure work and offering trade skill training via the inducement of a get-to-know you barbecue.Men's groups were advertised and opportunities to get "real jobs"( their words not mine)-fruit picking etc in Kimberley rural areas.There was plenty of evidence of lively kids, overweight mommas but no sign of any men, other than a youth in a phone box, wearing the latest gangster-rap style basketball gear and a beanie(in the tropics!!)On the other hand the drivers of bulldozers, graders and trucks moving earth for road works were invariably white, soldiers and civilian contactors.
The road back was a real challenge, especially as within 4 hours it became dark.There was river wading,rock crunching, mud holes that covered the wheels-little wonder that Avis charged such expensive rates.I almost hit a mob of cattle on the road as I came round a bend in the dark.relieved to make Drysdale River station again by 7pm. I was tired and my head aching from the constant judder and jolting. To have driven the round trip in 9 hours was certainly a test of stamina-must have been crazy.
Bugger it! I thought and elected for ham egg and chips(at $28)and several anaesthetising beers.A jolly party who were heading north for a fishing camp at Honeymoon Bay asked about the condition of the road.When they realised I had been there and back in a day-they declared me a "Legend".Feeling far from legendary I took my headache to bed and having slept surprisingly well in my swag, awoke to a freezing dawn.

MT ELIZABETH STATION 13 MAY 2008

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Made a slow and lazy start and cruised down the Kalumburu and Gibb River roads to try two nights at the Mount Elizabeth station which had its own gorges and rock paintings. I was delighted at the prospect of having a whole campsite to myself. including a large fireplace.Especially as the nights were very cold.

LOVELY SPACIOUS CAMPSITE ALL TO MYSELF
Alas, the condition of the roads on the station prohibited access to gorges and rock paintings ( So I was told initially but they relented in due course and allowed me access) Ah well, at least it was a good plce to squat and peacefully recuperate from the kalumburu madness-then the bombshell dropped!I was advised that the Gibb River road cyclathon was to stage there for the night and that 250 dirt road cyclists were to arrive that afternoon and set up camp.

CYCLISTS TO THE LEFT OF ME, CYCLISTS TO THE RIGHT
They did-complete withmass catering,refrigerated truck, ambulance, police back-up team etc.There was a great festive atmosphere and somewhere amongst them was the young cop who had booked me on the Shark Bay road on Anzac day!
They were aiming to cycle between Derby and Kununurra(600klms)in 5 days(some day sections as long as 200k)The overall organiser was a policemanwith a strong Merseyside accent who came from Birkenhead to WA some 30 years ago.
Everyone of them was very friendly and as they walked past my tent they apologised for disturbing my peace.
The cooks worked really hard-dinner looked likemass spagh-bol and serious mechanical repaires were underway in the background.Some bodies limped with fatigue and there were long queues for the overwhelmed showers and loos.Their pack-up and departure on the following morning would be quite a sight.

THEN THEY WERE GONE
Wonder how they would tackle the crocodile infested Pentecost river ( now that would be a sight to behold)
On the second day I did a short walk on the station involving some minor stream wading.

FRIENDLY RESIDENT COMES CALLING
After this I enjoyed a siesta( too late for the Station owners wife to fulfill her promise to draw me a mud map of where the rock art was) So, was this to be a solo night-no!A delightful couple-Psychiatrist and a social worker from South Yarra made themselves known. they had recently re-married with 6 grown-up children between them.Another couple from perth joined in the drinking of wine by the fire. The husband worked for Murrin Murrin mine and his wife ( who came from Manchester) taught leadership at Curtin university.

WANJINAS AT LAST-15MAY
Packed up and set off early as advised it would take take one and a half hours to drive the 30 or so klms to where the art was( an indication of how difficult the road would be)

HARD ROAD AHEAD
The station owners wife's map left much to be desired and the sporadic burning off in the bush along my way obscured the trail.

FIRE ON THE TRAIL
As a result I took a wrong turn and in a moment of inattention crashed off the eroding track and got stuck fast in a gulley.Half an hour of digging with my entrenching tool and piling sawn logs into the space under the wheels was not looking promising, when ,fortunately,a station hand came along, used the electric winch on his vehicle to haul me out and guide me back on to the right track for the art sites.
The first paintings I encountered were fairly ordinary but very colourful.

The wanjinas were much harder to find and required a lot of bush bashing and backtracking in the hot afternoon sun. Then just when I had despaired of finding them,there they were in the most perfect and sacred setting.

WANJINAS BY ROCK POOL
I found them on a rock wall across a beautiful secluded and inviting rock pool.but such was the atmosphere of this sacred place I felt no inclination to indulge in swimming.adding to the idyllic setting was a small waterfall to the right of the art which replenished the pool.

WANJINAS AND WATERFALL
I didn't dally on the way back to avoid the embarrassment of a search party.(the stockman who had rescued me said that if I had not returned by 3pm a party would come looking)Hit the main road by 2pm and made rapid progress-but the experience of getting bogged and the heat were making me too weary to push on all the way to Kununurra in one go, so I returned to Ellenbrae camp site for the night. This was very disappointing as the extremely basic facilities were in contrast to the ambience of the place I had had breakfast on my earlier visit.Everything was very Heath-Robinsonish-clearly the work of the "husband" who appeared to have put all his collection of spare materials into the bath house.A scratch dinner and early to bed. At least I had found the paintings and so my Kimberley mission was complete.

TO THE KATHERINE GORGE 16 MAY 2008

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RETURN TO KUNUNURRA
Set off early for Kununurra and had an easy run-the Pentecost river was less daunting after my experiences on the Kalumburu road and Mt Elizabeth station tracks.Dealt with a large pile of mail waiting at the post office( mostly bills) and recommenced text contact with the outside world.It was good to have a night in a comfortable, well appointed camp site.
TO KATHERINE-17 MAY
First task was to transfer all my gear from the four wheel drive into my little Honda Jazz-a tight squeeze but it all went in.

CHANGING OF THE GUARD.
Then off to Katherine. The 550klm run was good on a fast, well sealed road. Especially upon crossing into the Northen territory where the speed limit rose to 130kph.It seemed strange leaving WA, having spent so long there from far south to farthest north.
GOODBYE TO WA
Wanjinas blessed and boabs waived as I left by the Territory gate.
Responding to the call of my songlines fate.
Nobody else noticed my going,I left so small a space.
Except the miners, workers and crooks, waiting to take my place.

The Victoria river country was lush and beautiful-no wonder the Durack's loved it.After a brief stop at Timber creek I made Katherine by 6PM and put my watch one and a half hours forward, to go onto Territory time.I found a very comfortable camp spot in a caravan park by the river. A grassy, shady site with a high fence along two sides which gave welcome privacy from the adjacent caravanners.Deciding between two dinner venues was made easy when I saw aboriginal men falling down the steps out of one of them and when I bought a malt whisky at a bottle shop I was asked to produce my identity.Clearly a town with a few problems.
The next day, a Sunday,had an easy day in Katherine. Purchased supplies,acquired my first copy of "the Age" since early April and updated my blog notes.

NITMILUK NATIONAL PARK-19 MAY
The Nitmiluk National Park,which embraces the Katherine Gorge system-13 of them separated by rapids, was an easy 30klms out of town and, surprisingly,mostly within mobile phone range.The katherine river begins in Arnhem Land and further downstream becomes the Daly river before flowing into the Timor sea. it is the only river in the Territory to retain substantial water during the dry season.
The camp site was of the standard you would expect of such a famous tourist attraction and having decided that I needed to settle for a while,I booked in for 4 nights.
BARUWEI AND WINDOLF WALKS-20 MAY
There are a host of walking tracks in the park, mostly along the Katherine river and connecting with lookouts and subsidiary gorges that link with the main one.On another hot day I decided to put together the easy Baruwei walk, which clims up to a popular lookout from which there is a good view down into the gorge and the tourist boats that ply along the river below and the moderate Windolf walk that offered a rock pool swimming destination.

THE GORGE FROM BARUWEI WALK LOOKOUT
The view from the first lookout was superb-had the viewing platform all to myself and was able to interract with the tour boat below when the guide pointed up to my eyrie.
Th trail was surprisingly hot for a mere 30c day-I was to learn later from an information board near to the ranger station, that track temperatures can be up to 10c higher due to rdaiation from the light rock surfaces. Consequently the "moderate"8.4k Windolf track-yet more stream bed rock hopping-soon became wearing in the early afternoon heat and I was glad to get to Pat's lookout for a break in the shade.
The view from Pat's lookout was spectacular and embraced a bend in the river just before the point at which dry season water levels require the tourists to transfer between boats to cruise into the upper gorge.There was a particularly fine beach with a type of tree from which aboriginal women took leaves, which when bagged and thrown into a pool,reduced the oxygen level,stunning the fish and making them easy to catch.

PAT'S LOOKOUT
The diversion down to the swimming rock pool was not far but what was not apparent from the map was the steepness of the descent-requiring climbs down steel ladders in places with the need to hang onto chains at others for support and culminating in a tricky scramble down the boulder strewn bed of a dry water fall.I arrived very much "hot and bothered" and it was a relief to come to a lovely rock pool on a ledge before the wet season waterfall would have plunged into the main gorge.

I stripped off and plunged in.I couldn't touch the bottom in the middle but at the far side was a little beach of coarse sand, where I sat on a rock and played catch as catch can with little fish set on nibbling at my toes.Absolute bliss.

GREAT SPOT FOR A COOLING SWIM
But then I had to climb out again and walk the hot rock road home, again resorting to wetting my hat and camouflage veil in pools to keep me cool.An ice cool drink back at the ranger station was very welcome.In the campsite at night, cheeky wallabies came calling and were very aggressive in searching for food-they were not afraid to enter ones tent and forage amongst the storage containers.One in particular was particularly assiduous, despite carrying a young joey in her pouch.

MOTHER AND JOEY COME TO SAY GOODNIGHT
DOING THE TOURIST THING-21 MAY
I was more stiff and sore the next day than I had expected (must have been the steep climb out of the swimming hole)and decidied to do the tourist thing and take a short boat ride on the katherine river.I had done this during a bus trip to the outback in 1969 and so was interested to see what had changed.There had been much more development and where we transferred boats to get from one gorge into another, workmen were concreting paths,laying steps and erecting stainless steel handrails.

BOAT TRANSFER POINT ON KATHERINE RIVER
The rock art was still as good as I remembered( some of which is up to 7000 years old)

ROCK ART
and the vistas down the gorge were spectacular.

VIEWS DOWN THE MAIN GORGE
The commentary was more informed and interesting than one usually encounters on such trips and aboriginal practices were explained(such as fishing and hunting techniques)tools and weapons were passed around and there was even a demonstration of didgeridoo playing.
Really hungry when I got back and did serious damage to a burger at the ranger station cafe which had a lovely verandah looking out over the park.

ON TO DARWIN-23 MAY
Decided not to diverge via Kakadu and so drove directly to Darwin.I was looking forward to see what it was like having last seen the "old" pre-cyclone Darwin in 1969.It felt strange to be in a busy city again.All the buildings appeared new-more office and apartment towers( cyclone proof I hoped)were going up and estates were creeping out on the outskirts on Commonwealth land.
I drove along the coast taking in the Nightcliff foreshore, where according to radio news regular serious violence took place at night. To my surprise it was a beautiful setting and the real estate ozzed respectability and affluence.Seems that visiting aboriginals from the countryside tended to settle in the grass area-hence the term "long grassers" and under the influence of grog violence was common, sometimes leading to deaths.
I settled on a camp site to the north of the city-near to the sea-at Lee Point and booked in for 2 weeks. Much warmer weather here and I soon began to feel very lethargic.

WARM LAZY DAYS IN DARWIN 24 MAY-5 JUNE 2008

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As my friend from HR days in Melbourne was not due to join me to show me around the new Darwin until 2/6, I had a week to kill.First I got a feel for the centre, taking in the sights of wartime bombing and finished the day watching super 14 rugby and drinking Guinness at an Irish pub.My first impressions( which didn't change during my stay) were of a very bland, characterless place. A sort of Canberra in the tropical sun.I couldn't recall the "old' Darwin of the sixties but the new one was as disappointing as I found Vladivostok in that although in the tropics and facing Asian shores it had no Asian feel and was rather as asceptic as I find Singapore.
Despite this I was happy to give way to the tiredness that had accumulated in my body over the past few weeks and just mooch around. Lots of mail and financial admin to transact.
TO LITCHFIELD NATIONAL PARK-27 MAY.
whilst holding back on kakadu for Shelley's arrival,I decided to make the one and a half hour drive down to the Litchfield National Park. The key features here were waterfalls and giant termite mounds built by spinifex termites.From here on, unfortunately my camera began to over-expose my pictures, but here are the best of them.
The termite mounds are amazing in that they are designed and aligned to make the most of the sun's warmth, yet allowing the inhabitants the opportunity to retreat to the shady side on very hot days.Consequently they provided early pioneers with a useful way of pinpointing directions in daylight without resorting to a compass.

GIANT TERMITE MOUNDS

FULL FLOWING WATERFALL
The first signs of travel fatigue were beginning to gnaw at me and so having seen the falls, I overlooked the park's other offerings and headed back to Darwin to search out the public library and an internet service.
WELL MET IN CLIFTON
That evening ,in the campsite, I offered a man with a very smooth English accent my copy of the Australian and in return was invited to join he and his wife over glasses of red wine.Bev and Peter had met in Bristol in The Clifton Wine Bar-which was quite a coincidence as I had spent much time in Clifton ( lived there for three months) when I first returned to England in 1971 and during recent working trips.It's a fabulous Georgian suburb( in the style of Bath) high on the brink of the gorge and leading on to the glorious downs.Bev, an Australian from NSW had persuaded him to come out to Australia, 2 years ago, and they were touring Oz before his 80th birthday.Peter was an ex RAF pilot and flight instructor and had a fund of interesting stories to tell.She had 6 children from her previous marriage and he 2. They were a truly delightful and inspiring couple.Somehow we finished a whole cask of red!!
Over next few days drifted around Darwin in the listless manner that is so easy to get into in a city where the winter temperature seems permanetly set at 30c or above by midday.
On the way to the library I spotted an outback cycle tour bus with all the mountain bikes mounted on the roof and reflected that this way of getting about would have been right up Rae's street.

OUTBACK CYCLE TOURING
I breakfasted at the marina, enjoyed oysters on the pier overlooking the Arafura sea, read books and snoozed on park benches, like a true "swaggy", along the Esplanade,kept up email correspondence from the library,rode my mountain bike a lttle but I am afraid it was too hot for me.Found a good pub at Nightcliffe for an early evening drink and a private club(rather like a Sydney leagues club) which allowed temporary membership to visitors and where I enjoyed tolerable, economically priced food whilst watching international Rugby Union on the giant plasma screens.
After a few days of this I began to get restless and looked forward to Shelley's arrival on R&R from her HR management job at the Ok Tedi mine in PNG.

KAKADU FOR THE DAY.
Shelley arrived on 2/6 suffering still from the after effects of a bad dose of giardia. Poor thing she looked so thin and pale.But she was determined to get going and I soon found myself accompanying her to galleries where she spent serious money on her art collection interest.She wanted to fly into some of the Aboriginal art centres but the available flights did not suit our needs.So we decided to drive to Kakadu for a day and see what we could find.
We made good time on a fast sealed road to Jabiru-the centre for uranium mining-and lunched at the Gagadju Crocodile hotel( built in the form of a crocodile)which was very quiet so early in the dry season.Oenpelli-one of the outstation art centres Shelley had wanted to get to was inacessible by Honda Jazz and so we settled for a kilometre walk to a rock art gallery.The afternoon was very hot and I even needed to lend Shelley a hat.
It was worth it.The paintings were very impressive-some thought to be some 20000 years old, others a mere 10-and there was even a rendition of a European sailing ship in such detail that it included an anchor chain and a long boat in tow.Alas a combination of reflected sunlight on light coloured rock and my camera's sudden propensity for flashing at inappropriate moments, washed out most of my shots, but I have included a few tolerable ones.

KAKADU ROCK ART
On return to the Crocodile hotel we discovered a large display of Oenpelli art in its long corridors and Shelley purchased a great picture of two Mimis
(playfull/mischievous spirits)On the retun road to Darwin, the rural fire crews were at work and burn-off activity produced this impressive conjunction of the sun and a towering plume of smoke.

FIRE AND SUN
The rest of the week was spent relaxing in Darwin-we discovered that the Yacht club along from Mindil beach was a great spot for an aperitif whilst watching the sun set and the food was good.

SUNSET FROM YACHT CLUB

SHELLEY AT YACHT CLUB
We dined on the pier on a balmy night-the setting was great but alas the food indifferent.The high spot was being treated to a final night dinner at a super Nonya restaurant which must have been one of the best in Darwin.

SOUTH TO THE ALICE 6 JUNE 2008

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Made a good uneventful run back down to katherine, then further south came on a horrendous looking car and caravan crash.They had jack-knifed around a tree and the whole side of the van was ripped open. Fortunately nobody was injured.Near to Mataranka was the Elsey graveyard where some of the real life characters (such as the Fizzer)immortalised in the classical Australian novel-we of the never never. I was too tired to make it all the way to Tennant Creek and so opted for a night at Daly Waters which whose historic and quirky pub dates back 1893 and is reputed to be the oldest pub in the territory.

DALY WATERS PUB

LOCAL HUMOUR
I was guided into the campsite by a former British soldier from Portsmouth who had settled here after leaving the service many years before. He was friendly and became even more so when I congratulated him on his soccer team having recently won the FA cup.
I remembered the pub vaguely from my sixties visit.Most of the bar staff were from Europe and the atmosphere was one of maximum kitsch with walls and ceilings covered with collections of ties, football shirts,badges( Victorian police was represented) and even several items of ladies lingerie. But a good friendly place to stop on a cool night and its popularity was born out by the crowded camp site and large number of silver haired travellers crammed into the bar. I signed up for the dinner( a ute burger!!) and musical entertainment which consisted of a good singer-guitarist doing Elvis and Buddy Holley numbers(he certainly knew his audience's demographic) and I was both touched and tickled by the sight of suntanned and wrinkly, sixties something women hand-jiving to the music. What memories that brought back-Finnigan's dance hall-Manchester-where I indulged my Saturday night fevers in the early sixties.

INSIDE THE BAR

ANYONE FOR A NUMBER PLATE?
Despite the cold I slept snugly in my swag and after a hearty breakfast at the pub, whilst my phone recharged,I continued south heading for Tennant Creek.the tree coverage of the countryside began to thin out and the Lonely Planet guide advised that near Renner Springs the wet/dry tropical region gave way a desrt climate.As if to deliberately contradict this and right on cue, it began to rain and continued to pour down for the rest of the day-some 600klms-all the way to Alice Springs.
I had planned to take a break at Tennant Creek but it looked so depressing in the rain and was mostly shut up on Saturday afternoon that I decided once more to put in a marathon performance behind the wheel and shoot for Alice Springs-500klms further south. I was still wearing just a short-sleeve shirt and shorts( my habitual garb for the past three sun drenched months) and began to feel the cold when I left my car and certainly attracted the stares of locals rugged up in thick wind cheaters and with beanies protecting their heads from the chill.
It was a tough drive in relentless rain. The Devil's marbles looked so dull and colourless that they didn't even merit a photograph and to ave got out to walk around invited a drenching.I made a fuel and toilet stop at another historic pub at Barrow Creek. this was next to the old telegraph station with he graves of operators who had been speared by aboriginal tribesmen.I was beginning to feel miserable once separated from my car's heater and on entering the pub met the sympathetic eye of a classical bush character with white bushy beard, fleecy lined tarten jacket and a very broad brimmed sundowner hat. He was sipping a beer by a roaring fire and urged me to come over and warm my bones.
The car park was like a stream bed and a hellish drive lay ahead.It became hard to see the road at the onset of twilight and overtaking road trains, throwing back a constant spray of water and red mud, was no joke. Fortunately nobody coming the other way.The last 200 klms were particularly hard. I kept hitting patches of water which were impossible to detect on the black bitumen, in the dark, and was constantly aware of the dange of aquaplaning off the road.It was a great relief to reach a cold and rainy Alice Springs and I secured the last room( with a heater) in a budget motel-this was no night for camping bravado and my personal endurance tank was verging on empty.

A TOWN LIKE ALICE 8-13 JUNE 2008

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I had forgotten that this was the Queen's birthday long weekend and the Finke desert motor bike and dune buggy race was scheduled to run for several days, hence the fully booked accommodation and on this Sunday morning the place was slow to wake up.After several false starts I found a newsagent with the weekend national papers and was directed to a smart restaurant called Oscar's where I had an exceptionally good breakfast.It seemed strange to see aboriginal people on the streets clad in fibre-pile jackets, fleecy track pants and wearing warm beanies.No sleeping out under trees here at this time of year.
Gradually the sun came out and it was soon a very pleasant warmish day in the low 20s. From the lookout I got a panoramic view of the city's layout, snug in the embrace of the encircling red rock escarpments.

ALICE FROM THE ANZAC HILL LOOKOUT
I was encouraged by the warming weather to drive out to the site of the original telegraph station around which Alice Springs was founded here was the starting point of a remarkable long distance walk-the Larapinta Trail which runs along the West MacDonnell Ranges for some 220 Klms.My muse, Rae, was about to take on this formidable challenge, with her daughter, in a week or so and I decided to sample the start.

THE LARAPINTA CHALLENGE
An information shelter displayed an excellent plan of the whole route and of this first stage in detail. The quality of this and the marking of the trail were first class and an example to other national parks of how to do it.
At an early point on the trail I came upon a small well kept graveyard with a few white headstones-was the trail that tough, I thought? But no, they were the graves of pioneering people associated with the early days of the telegraph station.

PIONEER GRAVES

START OF THE TRAIL
On such a day the walking was sheer delight and the trail firm, relatively flat and dry enabled me to set a pace around 6klm per hour (especially as I was only going to sample the first hour or so of the trail and had no pack to carry).

ALONG THE TRAIL
The way undulated across the countryside affording sweeping views over the surrounding terrain and in the initial stages was accompanied by the remains of a telegraph line of indeterminate age. Despite keeping up a brisk pace, such was the moderate temperature, that I didnt even perspire. A far cry from the Piccanniny gorge experience.
After this I motored further along the range to Simpson's gap. The Larapinta Trail passes close to the Gap but as it still had water in it and it seemed that walkers would have had to wade to enter it.

SIMPSON'S GAP
Afraid the famous gap seemed a bit ordinary after the dramatic and much more tourist-free gorges of the Bungle Bungles.
After this I returned to town and found a good camping ground just outside the centre and opposite the cultural centre.I had arranged to lunch with my former wife, Bronwyn, who is Deputy Matron of the Alice Springs Hospital but as she was away visiting her parents in Mildura, we were not scheduled to catch up until Friday 13th and so I booked in for four nights.The camp site was full of competitors in the desert race, which must be very tough as a participant was killed that day.It was a very cool night-people in the neighbouring tent were from Victoria and I observed the wife in the camp Kitchen, boiling a kettle to fill her hot water bottle!!I slept in my fibre pile trews and my good snow bag came into its own-I knew it would sometime on the trip.
STANDLEY CHASM AND LARAPINTA AGAIN-9TH JUNE
Slow lazy start to the day. Tent was dripping with dew and it was right to wait until the sun was well up before starting on breakfast.I drove to the Standley Chasm, even further out along the Larapinta route.

STANDLEY CHASM
The walk to the chasm was easy but the rock scramble up a 45 degree slope at the end looked very uncomfortable and for once discretion got the better part of valour and so I retreated to reconnoitre another leg of the Larapinta.

HERE GOES
The start of the track looked forbidding as it climbed very steeply up out of the Chasm into a rocky gully.The signpost warned that it was only suitable for experienced walkers!!Indeed it proved to be a really knee trembling climb and descent.The stage went all the way to Swift's Creek but I elected to tackle just this climb up to to the ridge and the rim of the chasm.The views down into the gorge were spectacular and I was very impressed with the way the trail builders had maintained a natural look whilst creating an almost staircase like pitch in places where it became very steep and dangerous.

VIEW FROM THE RIDGE INTO STANDLEY CHASM
Coming down was tricky and I took great care to focus on my balance and not catching my boots on the rock. A fall here on such hard rock and down such a slope would have meant a spell of dental if not orthopaedic surgery.

WATCH YOUR FEET-STEEP DESCENT
Afraid camera over-exposure occurred again but you may be able to get some impression of the precipitate nature of the trail.This will test Rae's resolve-it tested mine.
Over the next few days I enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere of the Alice, I caught up with the latest Indiana Jones film and saw Queensland defeat NSW in the State of Origin decider in an English style pub.

OLD TOWN JAIL-ALICE SPRINGS
The cultural centre was holding an Albert Namatjira exhibition and after seeing that I went to the nearby graveyard to see the graves of Lassiter and Namatjira-the latter being particularly striking because of the reproduction of one of his paintings on tiles on his headstone.

NAMATJIRA'S GRAVE
After a very pleasant lunch with Bronwyn in a Thai restaurant I made an early afternoon departure from Alice Springs on the way to Uluru.

HEADING FOR ULURU 14 JUNE 2008

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HAD IT AT ULURU!
I overnighted on the way to Uluru at Curtin Springs and what a barren rocky camp site that was. Next morning I set out early in the pre-dawn dark and with due regard to early starting kangaroo road hoppers, got to the rock as the sun rose.

ULURU(AYERS ROCK)IN DAWN LIGHT

SUNRISE AT THE ROCK
I was shocked by the entry price to the park and for the first time on my trip ran in to serious numbers of organised tour groups with cameras flashing left and right.In 1969 I climbed the rock, before the chain rail was fitted and I had weighed whether I would do it again or accede to the local people's wish that we should not.
What should I do? Climb the rock and walk down King's Canyon? Suddenly, I had had enough.This tourist trap area lacked the peacefulness, natural authenticity and on a rainy, dull morning, the vibrant colour of the North West.Also, the little niggling feelings of road fatigue struck home with full force.(I had been travelling and sleeping out since I left Perth in mid April and before that across the Nullarbor Feb to March!)I determined to turn right around and head for home by the most expeditious rou

THE SCENT OF HOME 14 JUNE 2008

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The scent of home was firmly in my nostrils and I gave the car it's head.

A LONG AND LONELY ROAD
The next two days were a blur of scenery and marathon driving.Greenery gave way to flat gibber plains, long straight sections of featureless road and then I came into Coober Pedy, the legendery opal mining town, where people have developed underground homes in the spaces created by their mining endeavours.All around the town, both on the way in and out, were conical mounds of mine tailings-it reminded me of the limestone outcrops in the Turkish valley of Goreme in which people live and ancient Christian murals survive.Signs by the roadside gave ominous warnings of dire consequences for thos unwise enough to drive uninvited into these mine sites.In these parts they shoot first and ask questions after.
I found a very modern campsite and after a warm, reviving shower, headed to the pub for a hearty meal and to watch yet another rugby game in the company of some very partisan Kiwis, Aussies and another Englishman.
The next day took me past Woomera and back through the dramatic red rock scenery of South Australia's near outback,down into Port Augusta, from which I had started my desert odyssey way back in February.A long heavily loaded freight train snaked across the landscape below on the run to the north with all manner of Australian manufactured goodies destined for our Asian neighbours and the shops of Darwin.

LAST OF THE OUTBACK
From there I headed down the Clare valley and what a feast for the eye were the fat green slopes with white sheep, pretty stone villages and eventually vineyards sporting many of Australia's iconic brands.What a contrast with the barren country I had traversed earlier that day.

CHURCH AND VINEYARD IN THE CLARE VALLEY
It was not unlike a quiet Sunday evening drive through England's Cotswolds and it was becoming very cold, with the scent of woodsmoke from numerous home fireplaces making me hanker for a warm haven for the night.
Passing through Clare, I spotted a sign by the driveway leading up to a hill-top guest house, which offered home made steak and kidney pie as that night's dinner special.That was it and both the dinner, wine and warm soft bed were bliss, as mist and frost enveloped the lush valley below.
THE LAST LEG HOME-16 JUNE
The final day involved a tedious drive along the busy Adelaide to Melbourne highway, relieved only by my habitual stop at an excellent bakery, on the Victorian side of the border, which does super home baked pies.Traffic was heavy in both directions and in the final stretch, into and past Ballarat, the number of trucks heading west was truly amazing. Their seemingly endless headlights hurt my tired eyes and I was beginning to remember what it took to stay safe on busier roads than I had experienced for months.Then, there it was-marvellous Melbourne. One minute I was racing along in four lanes of dense traffic on a Monday night at 10PM!! and then I came down from The Bolte bridge, passing the brightly lit towers of Docklands and the city and into the Burnley tunnel-gateway to Richmond and home.The Songlines Road had run out and my magical dream run had come to its end.