Goodbye Oz! Good Evening Vietnam!

Travels have once again prevented an update until now - it is always go, go, go with the Mitchell Clan - you know how it is. We checked out of the Ashmore Palms Holiday Park and managed to pack all our bags in the Hyundai without too much ado, decidedly taking one more visit to the Harbour Town Centre for yet another bag to distribute the weight. With it stuffed in our boot we headed to Brissie and the soothing enclaves of the airport Novotel. Problem was, although visible from our vantage point on the highway, near impossible to actually get to. It took us a good 30 minutes of wrong turns and missed exits before we were finally able to unload into our evening retreat. They had this great heated lap pool on the top floor with a patio and reinforced plexiglass windows which looked out onto the spaghetti thoroughfare around the airport. In dire need of releasing plenty of pent up energy, the kids and I jumped in and paddled back and forth a few times - releasing our inner demons. While the boys attempted to focus their thoughts on their daily journals and school work remnants, Piper and I ventured to the local DFA - not sure what it actually stands for but suffice it to say - it is the garbage depot of retail stores - where all the excessive and unwanted clothing et al ends up at massively discounted prices. Fortunately, due to our lack of packing space and inkling of taste we were able to subdue our consuming passions and give most of it a miss...Piper did need new PJ's and some new tights to go with her ensemble from Byron Bay - had to contribute to the economy in some way - besides I had a few Aussie Dollars still left to unload. We ended our last evening with a nice meal at the Novotel restaurant and the Squealkel Movie (The Chipmunks II) in the privacy of our room.

Our journey to Ho Chi Min (more commonly known as Saigon historically and by the general populace) took us from Brissie to Darwin and then across to the ditch. With mere remnants of Aussie Dollars and coins in need of liquidation, we had a field day at the news agents and with the vending machines - packing as many 10 cent coins in as possible. Our stack of 5 cent pieces were generally unwanted anywhere so ended up filling the Rotary club's coffers.  We flew Jetstar - a truly minimalistic airline in which even the blankets cost $5 to shield one from the cold .. The seats in our A320  didn't even recline - making the trip a tad more uncomfortable than your standard economy class! It was only 9:25 pm in Ho Chi Min when we arrived but this equated to 12:25 AM our time - needless to say, the clan was nearing complete exhaustion. Foreigners in a foreign land we had to negotiate our way through customs which involved a visit to the landed visa office and then through the customs agents. Cole was completely passed out on the waiting room chairs with Aidan fighting off his fatigue with increasingly silly and obstinate behaviour - his norm when completely exhausted. Piper gets clingy and whiny in this state, wishing to be carried wherever we need to go but is at least manageable. We had booked our tour through Private Asian Tours, a Vietnamese Tour Company located in Hanoi (the North of the country) and were counting on our email contact, Ha (his name), coming through with someone to greet us as promised. Sure enough, as we walked out of the terminal a short bespeckled fellow was smiling and holding up my name in large letters - I can't recall the last time I felt so good and relieved to see my name! Our driver pulled up and we piled in seeking the solace of an air conditioned hotel room. It took a good 30 minutes to finally arrive at our hotel - The Hotel Continental Saigon - a magnificient looking place built in 1880 by the French. Walter Cronkite, Somerset Maugham and a handful of other famous people have resided here at one point and time giving it a majestic, historical feel with classical french architectural finishes all around. We felt truly blessed as we had placed complete faith in our tour organizer to find us appropriate accommodation. With orders to be ready to 'tour' by 8 AM we crashed heavily into our beds.

Cole woke at about 5 AM - around 8 AM to his biological clock, gradually incensing the rest of us out of our beds in a truly weary state. A couple Panadol and a shower fixed my jet lag headache and we ventured to breakfast. The restaurant sits in the middle of the complex with both an inside and outer area at the edge of a large courtyard. The employees and people in general are incredibly friendly and completely enamored by Piper and her blonde hair. Breaky in the courtyard had an old-world charm to it and we regaled in our luck to have such a place on our itinerary. 'Tri' (sounds like Tree) - our tour guide arrived right on time with Mr. Chi (our driver) and we started the congested and long trip to the Cuchi Tunnels on the outskirts of Saigon. The predominant mode of transport here is by motorbike or moped and it is literally chaos on the roads with road signs, lines on the road and stop lights being more of suggestions on how to drive rather than legal entities aimed at alleviating risk and helping traffic to move appropriately. The bigger the vehicle the more right to the road it seems. Our driver would slow for other like vans or trucks but not bat an eye if he was heading into a mob of motorbikes/mopeds. Pedestrians are the lowest of the low and zebra crossings are simply decoration on the tarmac. There are over 8.85 million people in this city and apparently about 5 million of them have motorbikes. They carry anything from fridges to rainwater tanks and industrial supplies on them - it is phenomenal to see. I can only imagine the horrific accidents that must occasionally occur - the emergency departments of the hospitals must be a trauma haven. Surprisingly though, our tour guide informed us that the life expectancy of the average Vietnamese is somewhere around 80 yrs (more for females than males) although I haven't been able to check on his figures. Obesity, other than in tourists, is virtually non-existent and in general the streets are clean, virtually clear of graffiti and people happy and friendly. We eventually made it to the Cuchi Tunnels - a Viet Cong hold out during the Vietnam War which was virtually impenetrable due to the clever tactics and 230 kms of underground tunnels of the Cuchi guerrillas. Our first stop was in front of a TV screen on which a film from 1967 was played, giving some historical pretext and significant communist propoganda to the guerrilla insurgency against the US and South Vietnamese. It was in black and white with barely audible dubbing at times and minced no words in deprecating the US invasion. There were tiny secret refuges under trees where individual guerrillas could hide if the enemy were near, a three level system of tunnels and burrows barely tall enough to crawl through, demonstrations of various booby traps, special smokeless kitchens, underground meeting rooms and much more. Necessity was truly the mother of invention for these freedom fighters, taking whatever refuse or bomb scraps they could collect and reusing them to make spikes for booby traps. Aware of the tunnels the US would send out German Shepherds to sniff them out but even this attempt was of short-lived success as the guerrillas soon found out that they could disguise their holes from the German Shepherds by making them smell like the Americans. They used clothing and other wares collected from US camps to foil the dogs. Widespread bombing also failed in that the tunnels would sometimes descend three levels below the surface. They even made shoes from bombed out jeep tires and fashioned them such that the widest portion of the show was at the back and narrow part at the front giving the impression from above that they were moving in the opposite direction to which they actually were. It was truly fascinating and perplexing at the same time as seeing such ingenuity formulated towards the killing of other human beings and imaging the pain and suffering which must have befallen both sides in the conflict left me feeling a bit queasy and unnerved by the end. In the midst of the tunnel display is a shooting range where you can purchase some bullets and fire them into some oil cans/ sand bags some hundred metres away - I was tempted but gave it a miss. The souvenir stand on the way out had various airforce jet planes, tanks and other war related contraptions all fashioned out of bullets - again - all a little bit odd and seemingly pro-violent in its formulation - like we've all been desensitized to mass destruction and killing machines.

From the Cuchi Tunnels we ventured back to the CBD for a bite to eat and our intrepid leader guided us to the Pho Restaurant adjacent the largest markets of Saigon. It had particular significance in that President Clinton and his daughter Chelsea had eaten at the same establishment back in November 2000. We actually sat at the very same table and instead of your typical table cloth, it had a glass top covering an A4 piece of paper detailing what both Bill and Chelsea had to eat on the day. The Beef Noodle soup came highly recommended so we all ordered one. Chopsticks have never been our kids strong point but they managed quite well today after a few pointers from our host. After lunch we headed into the markets and at one end was herded into a stall by some very keen and friendly women determined on re-clothing our children. We caved in and paid a bit exorbitantly for some soccer jerseys and a pretty Vietnamese get up for Piper - seems we're not the best at the haggling game.  From there we hit the Reunification Palace - another majestic building akin to the White House in that it previously housed the deposed President of South Vietnam and his family. When the North Vietnamese eventually overcame the US and South Vietnamese forces in April 1975, the building was taken over and converted into a museum of sorts as the prevailing forces had their government in Hanoi in the North. The building is spectacular in its layout and decor, sadly displaying massive elephant ivory tusks and hoofs as symbolic gestures of power from yesteryear. Our guide was an encyclopedia of information and took us through the 4 story building room by room, giving a play by play of their use and the symbolic patterns or objects inside. By this time the kids were on the verge of collapse but we still had the church of Notre Dame and the colonial Post Office to visit. En route, Tri guided us on how to cross a road in Saigon without getting run over. Stepping off the curve into oncoming traffic is not for the faint-hearted but as a group we managed to manouvre through the flotilla of buzzing mopeds and safely arrive at the other side. The church and Post Office were intriguing but we'd lost the drive by the time we'd arrived to view them and only gave them a cursory look. We'll hit the War Museum tomorrow and do a bike ride of the Mekong Delta - should be a rather sweaty, scenic and solemn day - will be sure to report every detail when we return from our ventures in the arvo.

The Bay of Lord Byron

I have been pining to visit Byron Bay since the outset of the trip having read a number of airplane magazines and travel articles highlighting its bohemian glory. With a day in hand we decided to make the trek as it was only about an hour or so away down the coast. It was funny though, as we entered NSW Jen commented how it suddenly felt like we were home – like she could sense the different feel or sense of place that NSW has compared to Queensland. With the preconception of entering some modern hippy enclave we headed into town and found a parking spot off the beach ready for an explore. Of particular note was the absence not only of large multi-national food chains such as KFC or Maccas but also the big box malls on the outskirts of town which have the parasitic tendency of causing all the interesting independently owned shops in the main drag to suffer into bankruptcy. It was refreshing to wander down a multitude of avenues with assorted shops and cafes with varied multi-cultural fares. It was touristy without a doubt, but in general there was an air of contentedness. For a touristy place it was also surprisingly clean with very little in the way of litter tarnishing the parkland or streets – people seemed to be conscientious, courteous and generally healthier. We bought a few rolls of sushi for lunch, ironically, from a small Sushi Franchise shop (Euro Sushi) owned by a Caucasian proprietor with a foreign accent and purporting to be the best sushi in town. The meal deal of the day was 2 sushi rolls with a juice – not a soft drink – a subtle but refreshing change to the ‘supersize’ mentality so commonly taken for granted. The ‘Bay’ was beautiful and I can see why it attracts the wealthy and back-packer alike. Stretching a few kilometres in either direction, it would be an ideal training ground for runners or triathletes and definitely cater to the surf-junkies. Jen was less enamoured by the place until our drive home when she opened up one of the tourist guides we’d found at the info centre and had a gander. In between pages of touristy information were essays from present and former eminent Byron Bayites about the virtues of the community and why they had come or previously lived there. One piece focused on the evils of globalisation and need for ‘localisation’ to overcome the environmental and community ravages perpetrated by the former. It emphasized the importance of ‘community’ and working together with a general awareness and conscientiousness. The author, a woman in her forties or thereabouts, had been awarded numerous community prizes having helped to re-establish farmer’s markets in the area. Another article was written by an entrepreneur who had established the first backpacker’s hostel in Byron Bay and essentially made his fortune in this way. His piece suggested he was more disillusioned by the invasion of backpackers to Byron (which he himself had helped to facilitate) and that before the masses of tourists, it was truly a noble and peaceful spot to live but had since become tarnished by the tourist influx. If I was back in my twenties and free to roam, I could definitely see the appeal of such a place and could easily have gotten stuck there (in a good way of course). Back at the holiday park on the Gold Coast, the boys settled into some overdue schoolwork, an endeavour one would think would become second nature after 6 months of near daily entreaties. Unfortunately, it seems to still drain us both and particularly Jen who predominantly takes on the task. Alas school holidays are upon us this week so aside from journal writing, we’ll be able to relax a bit. Today we’ll say goodbye to the Gold Coast and head back to Brisbane for one more night, then off to Vietnam on Monday.

Harbour Town, a new PM, Goodbye to the Beaumonts and off to Sea World

We’ve again fell into a bit of luck in choosing our Caravan Park accommodation (staying in a small hut adjacent the Beaumonts). Everyday they have a new kid friendly activity first thing in the AM and today it was a visit and feeding of the numerous birds they have holed up here on their property. Their collection is zoo-like in proportions with a beautiful collection of bright red, green, blue Macaws and cockatoos. We fed them numerous almonds and attempted to get some to say ‘Polly wanna cracker’ to no avail. It was a great start to the day and permitted a wander around the grounds and the all important discovery of a nicely heated pool.
There is Pacific Fair, Australian Fair and now Harbour Town (actually it’s probably been here for years) – another mall complex but different in that all the stores open up to small walking areas rather than enclosed in a massive complex. We’d gone to meet up with a friend of Phil’s and enjoy yet another coffee – it has become a bit of a theme on this trip. A bit of bargain hunting later we were starting to feel the hunger pangs and had children chanting “beach, beach, beach” under their breath – keen to leave the ‘harbourless’ expanse for true sand and ocean breeze. Although sunny, it was still a bit nippy – especially out of the sun where the breeze could get at you – mind you it was still about 20 degrees celsius – a temperature that would make most Canadians feel as though they were in a sweat lodge and relate very poorly to any sense of ‘cold’ or ‘nippy’. Some greasy fish and chips were enjoyed by most of the crew with few exceptions and we ventured into Surfer’s Paradise for a little driving tour behind our SatNav intrepid leader – Phil. Given the relatively frigid temp we decided not to try the beach but instead head back to the caravan park where that heated pool awaited us. Interrupting a seeming romantic liaison in process by much splashing, raucous yelling and play involving the launching of children into the air, we eventually took over the pool and burned some pent up energy. With the sun on its descent, completely water-logged and spent we sat down to watch the news and catch up on the sudden ousting of the PM by Julia Gillard – Australia’s first female Prime Minister. We were all a bit shocked, like most of Australia, by the turn of events and felt sorry for Kevin 07 – he did get a bit of the blunt end of the stick – such is the way with politics though I guess. He is sort of the Bill Gates of Australian politics in terms of looks - only geeky in a different ‘political’ sort of way. Julia, although to be quite the thorn in Tony Abbott’s side (leader of the opposition), will unfortunately be judged through different spectacles – having to not only fill the shoes as the nation’s leader but also work the part in looks and fashion choice – seems almost unfair in this day and age but alas – it is what it is.
For dinner we joined Phil’s friend Pete and his wife at a local pizza joint seemingly wrapped up in Knights of the Round table/King Arthur sort of lore, serving pizzas with names such as Merlin’s Magic or Dragon’s Breath and Excalibur. Cheesy names aside (and no pun intended) the ‘zas’ were actually quite tasty. Merlin’s Magic was a mixture of banana, prawns, bacon and your regular toppings – sounds hideous but was absolutely delectable. Dragon’s Breath was touted to be a bit fiery but never required much in terms of extinguishing. Regardless, the tucker was tasty, conversation intriguing and a great way to spend Phil, Tamra and their clan’s final night up here with us. They’ve been wonderful friends almost since our arrival in Narrandera and will be missed greatly as we take up a new home overseas.

Feeling a bit toxic from many moons of good food and drink and a modicum of what one might term exercise, I woke early and donned my running gear to brave the early morning streets and chill. As always it felt good for the first kilometre or so and then began to hurt – problem was I was now committed and too far from home to simply hobble back, tail between my legs, so kept on hoping the route I’d chosen wasn’t going to end up being some epic 15 km classic. I had missed the meditational side of things such ‘me-time’ affords and despite it being a bit painful – it was a good pain – one I needed to come back to more regularly. I could feel all the toxins getting pumped out of my body and on my eventual return, felt cleansed by the experience. I remember thinking in a few races of my past - “why am I doing this? My legs are numb, lungs feel like someone is stabbing me with upteen number of tiny knives and some plump, knobby-kneed girl has just blown past me like I was standing still…” and now have an inkling again of why it’s worth the suffering. The feeling at the end makes it all worth the while – a feeling not only of euphoria from the endorphins kicking in but simply that of accomplishment and some improved inner completeness. Once back in some organized lifestyle, getting back into the swing of things will be high on the agenda.
The Beaumonts were shoving off, so having passed off whatever we could to alleviate some of our load and enhance theirs, we gave our final goodbyes and saw them off into the sun. We had some final admin jobs and some haircuts to attend to so got on our way as well with aims of hitting Sea World in the afternoon. As they do, things usually take more time than you anticipate but in the end we did make it to Sea World in all its splendour. The crowds were definitely much younger than those at Movie World and for good reason given the types and number of rides available. We were keen on hitting the rides mostly and perhaps some of the shows if they fit in to the schedule. We headed to one of those water rides to start as our kids usually fit the size restrictions but for some reason Piper – usually the most fearless of us all – had a little ‘caniption’ – indicating it was to be too scary for her. A bit dumbfounded, Jen decidedly took her to the kiddie rides while I and the boys ventured to the bigger kid ones. Cole was completely stoked as he wasn’t able to ride much at Movieland due to his stature and now he met all the requirements! The numbers at the park weren’t overwhelming so on one of the roller coasters which afforded us a loop-de-loop and a few upside down twirls, we were actually able to run around and get a second ride right away. The aquariums were fantastic with oodles of interesting looking fish and sharks all co-habitating. They had assorted touch pools as well including one with rays which was a thrill. We ended the day enjoying the Pirate Show with all its acrobatics, high-diving and jet-ski/motorboat feats. Although it was only an afternoon visit, we felt we had done Sea World justice and ticked it off our list of things to do. We have yet to be to Byron Bay which is only a short trip down the coast so will plug it into Google Maps in the AM. It will likely be our last venture on this ‘near-circumnavigation’ of Oz so we may feel a bit of sentimentality as we head home at the end of the day – our trip in Australia for all intents and purposes at a close….(for now).

Brissie Museums, Cole’s B-day and Movieworld

Our final morning in Brisbane saw us scrambling to do some last minute postings, faxes and a drop off at the Salvos before packing the car for a short trip down to the Gold Coast. We’ve rented a Hyundai Elantra which essentially has just enough space for us as passengers and as such provided quite the challenge in packing our remaining foods, linens, and suitcases. Each child ended up with a bag on their lap and had to sit with their legs up for lack of any room. Jen was saddled with about 3 bags in front and a large box of teas, spices and other odds and ends on her lap while I had to nonchalantly keep a bag of groceries from spilling as it sat on the divider between Jen and I. The boot was packed to near explosive potential and I nearly had to sit on it to get it closed. We weren’t too worried though as we anticipated most of our extra gear would go no further than the Gold Coast and we’d make it across to Vietnam with a reasonable load – fingers crossed. We spent the remainder of the morning and early afternoon at the Brisbane Science Centre and Museum. We pulled up looking for a park and noticed a good 3 to 4 school buses waiting outside – it made sense as it was the last week before the holidays so naturally every air-breathing and rational teacher had planned some key field trips at the end of the term to alleviate workload. Although at times deafening, the low roar and chaos of hundreds of kids running amok wasn’t too bad and despite a few short moments of anxiety when different kids in our clan were missing from our immediate view, we managed to get through it all relatively unscathed. The museum had some great displays although noticeably some repeats from previous museums we’ve visited over past few months. They had this one massive wall depicting the actual outlines of different animals and humans in both size and shape demonstrating the incredible largess of some and minuteness of others. The themed exhibition was of swimwear through the ages, ranging from the full body costumes of nether years to the topless and floss-like variations of more recent decades. It made you wonder why some would even bother to sport anything at all, leaving virtually nothing to the imagination. A spot of lunch and some smoothies later we crammed ourselves back in our wee Hyundai and followed our SatNav equipped friends, the Beaumonts, onward to the Gold Coast. It was a Tuesday night so the kids were hyped about the imminent episode of Top Gear which has become a weekly custom. Jeremy Clarkson won the most recent challenge yet again, leaving us fulfilled and more enlightened for another week.
Another custom which has evolved is Piper’s early morning venture into our bed for a cuddle. Sometimes we will even wake up to find her there, neither of us with any recollection when she arrived during the night – almost like she morphs herself there. This morning it didn’t end with Piper though. As it was Coley’s birthday, the birthday boy couldn’t contain his excitement with any sort of sleep in and crawled in shortly after Piper, leaving but one child remiss. Not 5 minutes later, Boy 1 (Aidan) found his way in as well leaving one very close happy family on the verge of toppling out of bed. The pressies were opened and much glee had by all. Our caravan park hosted a colouring contest and face painting venture first thing this AM and most of the kids had a go while the adults organized a visit to Movieworld – one of the theme parks in the area purportedly the best to cater to our age group of kidlets and with 4000 square meters undercover to boot. It was a day when we were likely to need such coverage as intermittent showers were forecast. It was a wonderful place but perhaps because it arose as the Australian equivalent to places like Universal Studios or other theme parks based in the USA, didn’t seem to have that same mystique and grandeur that these other parks that we’ve previously visited seemed to have. Upon entering the grounds, Phil, Aidan and I bee-lined for one of the key roller-coaster attractions, the Superman coaster. The line up took a good 40 minutes to get through and as we stepped up to the door that would let us onto the next coaster another wave of rain has coming through and they closed the ride. Beaten but not unbowed we decided to give it 5 minutes as a quick peak outside showed sun as far as the eye could see and sure enough the ride opened again and we had our go. Aidan was completely taken with the ride as it posited us high above the grounds and in a pure vertical descent, dropped us like a stone, threw us around the track in loop de loops and careening corners before, no more than 30 seconds later, deposited us back where we started – completely flushed with adrenalin. The rest of the day we dodged the rain, went to shows, parades and did as many rides as we were physically able to do in the time permitted, closing down the park at its 5 pm curfew. Cole’s B-day party went without a hitch and he blew all but two of his candles out signifying his continued adoration of Isabella and perhaps ….Pearl? Isabella copped a quick kiss on the cheek as he managed to hit the plate with his first slice – ooo – boy germs! Won’t be long before he’s really wooing the girls and likely joining the ranks as a heart-throb – melting all the girls’ hearts with the whimsical smile and ‘je n’ai sais quois’ attitude.

A Catch Up and Brissie with the Beaumonts

Frankie

Once again I’ve managed to skirt some fairly important blogging events and need to make amends for my omissions. Cut back to a few days ago and our afternoon drive to Marlborough for the night. We had to stop at a service station for fuel, use of the facilities and some all essential snack food to keep us going. Fraser took care of both, as he is a very generous sort, and in doing so felt we deserved a treat of TimTams. When he brought the package to the counter he was informed that if he only bought one package it was $4.70 but if he bought two – he could get both for $4.60 - total!! It seemed like something out of an Eddie Murphy sketch – if you buy one sugar-infused bickie-like snack you get one free and 10 cents to boot! No here – take the hole box, feed the kids, your pets – whatever! And they wonder why obesity is on the increase in Australia? Perhaps they should take the same type of deals to veggies or fruits? Thus it was – two packets of TimTams in hand and we were off to Hervey Bay and Fraser Island. The latter gained its name from Captain James Fraser who’s ship sank near Fraser Island many moons ago and managed to get himself, his wife and some crew members to the Island. At that time it was inhabited by Aborigines and by the end of the year he had perished due to a spear in his back. His wife Eliza survived and eventually made it back to England to recant her story which apparently became more and more elaborate as the years progressed.  Another shipwreck years prior to Captain James’ unfortunate demise reportedly left two young girls and their mother to fend for themselves on the island. Rumours abounded that these two 'white' girls were living amongst the Aborigines so someone decided to go up and have a look. The girls couldn't explain how they arrived there as may have been too young at the time of the shipwreck and only spoke the Aboriginal dialect. From internet accounts I've been able to dredge, the girls were found to be albino and possibly not related to the surviving family at all. Tragically, he found them so interesting he decided to extract them from the tribe and return to Sydney where they ended up in an institution and eventually died there.

Brisbane has been an interesting part of our adventure in that it has predominantly been an organizational point from where we could empty the caravan, pack our residual keepsakes into boxes, deliver the boxes to the moving company and then put our Kluger and caravan up for auction. With great fortune, our good friends from Narrandera have come to visit their Uncle/ Brother/Brother-In-Law Andrew and been able to scurry off to help us in some of our endeavours. Caravans – despite being relatively small compared to some cousin vehicles inhabiting these parks – can actually store an incredible amount of ‘stuff’ – for lack of a better word. As we were preparing for the trip I think we slowly kept adding to and stuffing in more and more things we felt would be good to have or essential for the trip and after a few months ended up with an incredible amassing of materials. Jen and Tamra’s emptying of the beast seemed never-ending, with box upon box quickly being filled and more cupboards yet to be emptied. By late afternoon we had made some serious headway but still had yet to empty Gertie and give her a good clean. In order to keep the kids from the clutches of the ‘boob’ tube I let them put up our tent and play with some of the toys we’d brought along on our trip. Word to the wise – never let your 9 or 10 year old (or his friend) swing golf clubs unsupervised with other kids around – especially Cole. Cole was having a tough afternoon having somehow fallen down the steps of our cabin and abraded the skin covering his achilles, caught a tennis ball on the chin and finally and only seconds from the tennis ball incident, walked non-chalantly into Tyler’s back-swing, catching the club on the right lateral part of his eye socket – 2-3 cms towards his nose and he might have coped one right in the eye. The wound was only superficial and there was a bit of bruising so fortunately no need to head to the hospital – just a little ice and some jelly bellies to ease/distract him from the pain.
Our second day in Brisbane wasn’t much more exciting than the first as we were essentially relegated to the caravan park for the better part of the day. As Jen had tackled the caravan with gusto the day before and the kids had some schooling to attend to, I rolled up my sleeves, grabbed a bucket and set into finishing the inside of the caravan – tossing the remnants of cupboards out the door and giving it a good clean. My respect for those that do cleaning jobs for a living increased insurmountably as after 3 hours of scrubbing and cleaning I was well and truly spent. Piper had been a little under the weather having contracted a touch of croup so hung out with me for the better part of the morning – helping out when she felt up to it and at other times occupying herself with the many sand-buckets we’ve collected on our journey. Prior to the croup you would have thought there was nothing that would have quieted her down. If she wasn’t talking to you or anyone else she would be having some in depth discussion with one or both of her imaginary friends – Udi and Muda. Croup definitely settled her babbling down and tamed a bit of her wild beast, truncating her spirit into one of passivity and ease. We’d basically completed our cleaning/packing by the late afternoon and ventured to the peri-airport area to collect our hire car that would take us to the Gold Coast later in the week. It was an interesting trip in that our SatNav’s guidance essentially took us through a few residential neighbourhoods, on and off various freeways and finally to our rental agency – seemed like an odd collection of streets to get us to a large public utility – the airport. It almost seems as if Brisbane has grown too quickly for its infrastructure, leaving mazes of routes to get to key public facilities and areas of interest. Aside from the confusing traffic layout though, Brissie is definitely heading towards becoming a chic cosmopolitan city – Jen reckons it is sort of a meld between Sydney and Melbourne but I put it between Adelaide and Perth. It’s not totally touristed-out like Sydney and has a little bit of country feel like Adelaide or Perth and lacks the pretentiousness you get with either Sydney or Melbourne – but this is only from first impressions. We did manage to get into the CBD before nightfall and met up with Tamra, Phil and their kids at Parklands in the Southbank district of downtown. It’s virtually all new with plenty of restaurants, cafes, a weekend market, museums, art galleries and a manufactured beach/pool lying just inland from the banks of the river which runs through Brisbane. A short walk and play in the park for the kids to expend some energy, then dinner at Nando’s (short for Fernando’s I’m told) filled up the evening and left the kids ready for bed.
Today I had the task of a) collecting the trailer in which we would pack the remnants of our caravan clean out and deliver them to our movers somewhere on the south side of town and b) dropping off the Kluger and Caravan at the auctioneers at the opposite end of town. Collecting the trailer and loading it proved none to difficult but actually finding the moving company – near impossible. Fiona (our SatNav) seemed convinced I was thwarting her suggestions to take a left where no street actually currently existed. New roadworks had blocked her suggested path much to her ignorance and left me the task of trying to sort it out on my own. Google Maps eventually came to my rescue as well as a new vantage point for Fi and I eventually found my way there. I had to unload the trailer with the assistance of a fellow who spoke through a whole in his neck which added a bit more to the fairy tale of my venture – like some sort of fabled wizard or troll encountered on my quest to lead me closer to the coveted idol (or something like that)… I eventually made it back to the caravan park and loaded Gertie on Bess for one last trek. Aidan helped to navigate with the aid of Google Map, we filled in our paperwork and said our goodbyes. The trappings of consumerism caught us on the way back to our cabin, pulling us into a massive mall on the outskirts of town. From there we eventually met up with Tamra, Phil and their clan and spontaneously decided to catch “Shrek 3D – Forever after” at the local theatre housed inside the mall. We all got to wear some pseudo Buddy Holly 3 D glasses which led to our instant geekification. Aside from the very trying 30 minutes of ads at the outset, the movie filled me with both glee and tears, infused with guffaw-quality gags and sentimentality to make it look like you were peeling onions for the entire show.

There is something quite liberating about extricating yourself from your possessions. Perhaps it was simply the onerousness of the tasks or the timeliness with which they needed to be accomplished, but once we had let go of our boxes of assorted goods and then witnessed Bessie and Gertie disappear into the distance of the auctioneers lot, the air seemed to get fresher and bodies lighter as if a large weight had been lifted. Now it’s just us, our hired Hyundai and another week of adventure with our friends and their kids. It’s hard to believe our 6 month/ 7 year journey is nearing its conclusion but I won’t get too sentimental – not just yet.

Whitsundays (Part IV), Frankie the frog and Marlborough, Hervey Bay – Gateway to Fraser Island

Apologies again for lack of contact – we’ve been out of blogging range whilst playing with four-wheel drives on Fraser Island. I’ve a bit to catch up on so here it goes. Our final day aboard the Whitsunday Magic arrived and the weather had settled. A beautiful Eggs Benny for breakfast set us up for the morning activity a hop, skip and a jump from where we’d spent the night. It was our last chance to have a snorkel so all but Piper hopped in (she wasn’t game – remembering the chill she had last time she had been in). The reef had obviously been frequented a bit and sad, forlorn-looking coral, broken and lying in pieces like some ancient ruin of bygone scattered the area. The fish were still there though and at one of the many coral ruins a school of brightly coloured yellow, white and black fish were chewing at the coral in a feeding frenzy. Cole and I decided to head back to the boat, having had our fill and hopped into the dinghy which lay waiting to collect us. Back at the boat we were allowed to jump off the bow- something Cole had been keen to do since getting on board. To demonstrate it was safe I went first and survived without any problems so Cole cautiously climbed onto the railing, albeit a bit timidly, and with some positive coaxing eventually sailed over the edge feet first. We hurried up for a second go and I hurled myself over with a flip and a definitive 10 point landing to await Cole down below. This time he climbed up without issue and without a second thought did a front flip!! It was amazing and hilarious. Aidan and Uncle Fraser eventually made it back to join the festivities but couldn’t top Cole’s acrobatics. With but a few hours left in our journey we opened up the Monopoly board and played a speed game in which Cole prevailed convincingly.
We collected Gertie and Bess and got ourselves back on the road after disembarking the Magic, en route to Marlborough – halfway to Hervey Bay. We arrived in the dark at a roadhouse caravan park along the way and got sorted for dinner. Jen heeded nature’s call and in doing so discovered Frankie – the green tree frog. Frankie is an icon to the women’s toilet having been removed a number of times only to return and take up his/her roost over one of the toilets. Sure enough, there he was – a resilient green, moist, solemn looking frog about the size of your palm and open to petting. Despite residing in the women’s toilet, we all had a look out of interest, careful not to intrude on any unsuspecting female who might bag us for perving.
With an early start we made our way to Hervey Bay – the exit point to our new adventure – a four-wheel drive trip to Fraser Island. It took us the whole day to get there but made it in time for dinner and Top Gear at 7:30pm. Unfortunately, when we made it to the TV Room an older gent had beat us to the punch – geared up to watch the final episode of Australia’s Got Talent. We accepted our fate and since Jen needed some space to get packed for Fraser Island, watched the opening and a string of advertisements of the talent show – it was an unimpressive intro and owing to the delay in getting to anything interesting, the gentleman who had beaten us to the remote control conceded and turned the channel to Top Gear which was far more exciting. I popped back to the caravan and grabbed my computer to attempt a catch up on the blog. I struggled though as couldn’t keep the muse working with the distraction of Jeremy Clarkson and his fellow mates gesticulating about different car feats.
We woke early the next day in order to attend our pre-Fraser Island briefing at the 4WD rental agency – Fraser Island Magic – not sure why everything we seem to be doing is associated with Magic – simply the powers of the universe I guess. There must have been (and possibly still are) some pretty serious accidents on FI and as such an instructional, safety video has been fashioned to instruct us would-be-4WD venturers. It went through the basics of four-wheel driving and how not to roll your vehicle in the sand. It tended to point out the obvious such as trying to avoid flocks of birds which may have recently returned from long-haul flights abroad or dingos which were depicted as wild frightening creatures capable of attack with the least provocation. The weather was looking a bit inclement and although we had booked tenting sites were seriously considering looking at alternative arrangements if the forecast for rain persisted. We loaded into our Land Rover Defender with eager anticipation, fired it up and directed it to the closest coffee shop. It was a stripped out SUV essentially – no radio or functioning air conditioning, and had sliding windows and aluminium floors throughout. The rear seats sat up over the wheel wells and unfortunately, the passengers relegated the back seat either had to stoop to see out the windows or rely on their midget status for vision. The clerk at the coffee shop indicated our worst fears – the forecast for the next few days was for intermittent heavy showers so our contingency planning went into effect and we scrapped our tenting plans. While waiting for the ferry a couple of Hummers arrived much to the excitement of Aidan and Cole. I snarled at them, (the Hummers that is) pointing out to the boys the incongruity of such environmentally remiss vehicles being used to visit such a natural, untarnished area such as Fraser Island – a veritable physical oxymoron. They truly are ridiculous vehicles – consuming hordes of fuel and spewing it out unforgivingly into the atmosphere – seemingly giving the bird to mother nature all for selfish, likely male inadequacies.
Fraser Island had arrived and without trepidation we headed into the island. The track was indeed tenuous and we were glad not to have brought Bessie who would have struggled and likely been stuck in the first couple kilometres which were moist and sandy. Bumping around the inland track we arrived at Central Station – a former hub of forestry and some mining in the region. We hopped out for a look around and decided to take a short hike to get a sense of what this part of FI had to offer. The map indicated a 2.7 km hike to ‘the Basin’ which was proposed to take 1 to 1.5 hrs. We’d encountered signs like this before and presumed it meant 2.7 km return so eagerly ventured forth. The path seemed to go on forever based on our expectations and we soon figured out our assessment was incorrect and our total trip would be 5.4 kms – a lot for someone the size of Piper – taking 3 steps for every one of ours. She seemed unphased though and only required a shoulder ride on the way out – what a little trooper! The basin was simply one of the perched dune lakes in the area – lakes that have been formed from depressions in the dunes and filled with rain water. Their pH or acidity is rather low allowing only a few types of marine creatures to exist. The water was quite clear with that tea-tone to it from leaching decaying roots and organic material. The rainforest was beautiful though and towered over us with an almost all encompassing canopy at times, shielding us from the occasional down pour. We swung on vines which mimicked swings, marvelled over the height and geometry of different gum and pine trees and keenly examined the variously coloured fungi taking over decaying wood along the track. We felt almost euphoric breathing in the clean 02 enriched air and after an hour and a half made it back to our Land Rover. With Uncle Fraser at the wheel we made our way to Eurlong – one of the main resort areas on the Eastern Coast and had some lunch. We managed to find a cabin to hold us all at Cathederal Beach and blessed our lucky stars as dark clouds sat ominously on the horizon. We were only allowed to drive on the beach 2hrs either side of the high tide and had been given the approximate times by our rental agency so waited out our time with a wander down to the beach. Fraser at the helm we eventually made it onto the beach and quickly became attuned to the conditions, letting other, more acquainted buses careen by seemingly travelling at comparatively mach-speeds. There are a number of sights along the beach and we hit each in tow. The first of many was Eli Creek – the largest freshwater creek on the island and often with a current forceful enough to carry you to the sea. The water was expectantly chilly but despite this we jumped in at the end of the track and hiked through the shallows on the way back to the truck. Further up the beach we encountered the wreck of the Maheeno, a now rusted out relic of an Italian cruise ship built around the turn of the 19th century. It had been deemed unseaworthy and was being towed to Japan for scraping when a cyclone erupted and broke it free from its towing vessel back in 1935. It managed to gouge a large hole in its side and floundered before finding its eventual resting place on FI. Since then it has been used for target practice during WWII and gradually rusted away to its current withering bulk. As we arrived it was being framed by a rainbow and would have been a perfect postcard shot if it weren’t for the other tourists standing in front of it. We’d seen a number of photos of it prior to arriving and although intriguing, like anything not seen at hand, didn’t encompass the actual object itself. Seeing it firsthand was quite impressive and it must have been quite the sight when it first landed and for the many years that it persisted essentially in tact. From there it was a short hop to our accommodation up the beach. The cabin fit us perfectly and on countless occasions, Jen reminded us what a great idea it was to scrap the tenting option. We had some time in lieu so ventured out once again for a quick peak at a lake nearby with Kelter Turtles which, we were told, would come to the surface simply with the clap of your hands. The 9 km drive in took us a good half an hour and we were worried we weren’t going to beat the sunset as darkness seemed to be consuming us quickly. A near head-on collision woke us to our senses and we eventually made it to the lake. The cute little turtles heard our claps and sure enough started popping their heads out to see what the commotion was about. We made it back without much ado and feasted on some home-made chili before finding our dry protected beds for the evening.



The second day of our FI adventure saw us wake early for a drive to the furthest point accessible on the Eastern side of the island – the Champagne Pools and Orchid Beach. The sun was out and waves crashing incessantly along the beach. Swimming was apparently banned due to the proximity and proclivity of sharks in the area which I suspect is a bit of hype wishing to scare the tourists with the gravest of their ocean fears to prevent drownings due to the many rips and chaotic conditions – risks that some perceive as less likely to lead to a shortening of their existence than the former. We arrived at the Champagne Pools early and had them to ourselves at the outset. Due to volcanic debris and remnants of hardened basalt, large tidal pools have formed in the area and as the tide comes in it fills the pools giving the impression that they are bubbling like champagne. There were a number of little outcroppings and partial caves to explore in addition to the pools which were beautiful but a bit frigid. Uncle Fraser challenged Piper to jump in which she did without fear or hesitation – as is her norm. The boys had a quick spell as well but decided the nooks and crannies were more to their liking. We were in peaceful bliss up until I happened to gaze up to the walkway leading into the pools and noticed a seemingly unending line of young tourists making their way down to us. The invasion led to them stripping down and venturing into the pools. Now – for the record – the outcroppings and boulders surrounding the pools is relatively extensive and capable of providing clothing refuge for a good entourage of tourists so I wasn’t too sure why they had to congregate around where we had laid our wares – to the extent that one self-absorbed sod felt it necessary to step all over Aidan’s clothing nicely folded and dry perched on a rock. It was the final straw of their onslaught and given their numbers we felt a retreat was in order. The group were apparently conservation volunteers from the US and Canada – code for rich uni students wishing a holiday to Australia but lacking the gumption to call it what it was and offering to look at plants and animals for a couple of weeks in the interest of cajoling their karma or guilty consciences for the carbon footprint taken to get here. Up the road we came across yet another store and fuel stop – literally in the middle of absolutely nowhere – I was surprised though as Unleaded petrol was actually cheaper than up in the nether regions of the NT! A kilometre or so further on we reached Orchid Beach and planted our flag as we were the sole intruders to the area. It was somewhat unique and refreshing to occupy our own stretch of beach – just us and the tired birds. Since arriving we had been struck by the amount of pollution that seemed was scattered along the beach. We had stopped on numerous occasions to pick up a recalcitrant plastic bottle littering the vast expanse of beach upon which we were travelling and were surprised that some seemed to be from Singapore or Malaysia or China – presumably washed in from boats skirting the mainland. At Orchid Beach I took a stroll up the beach and in doing so managed to pick up a bucket load full of plastics and a pillow complete with pillow case. I have this relationship with karma such that if I see a piece of rubbish on the ground, feel it is then my responsibility to pick it up and dispose of it appropriately. Probably why I despise Maccas so much as there always seems to be someone who feels that if they consume crap they can treat their environment in a like manner and simply toss their refuse wherever they please – something my conscience can’t handle. A picnic lunch and passage of the high tide later we turned our compass back down the beach to Indian Head – a large volcanic outcropping rising well above the crashing waves and open ocean below. A rather washed out track led to the edge of the cliffs and from atop Jen spotted a frolicking pod of whales on the horizon – the first we’d seen on our circumnavigation and as such an incredible thrill to witness. Manta Rays abounded and a couple of dolphins could be seen playing in the waves as well. Back on the beach we ventured homeward and rented a couple of fishing lines to see if we could catch our dinner. I (with Aidan’s help) was the only one with any luck though and caught a couple of Darters but neither of sufficient length to keep so we had to throw them back. Whilst casting my line and shivering in the shallows a dingo happened down the beach and headed up to the vehicle causing Jen and the kids to scramble in – fearing for their lives. The curious canine wandered around the truck wondering what the fuss was about and realizing there were no treats to be had continued on his/her way to more exciting shores. I copped an earful later from Jen, citing my non-chalant casting behaviour as being uncaring to hers and the kids’ precarious situation with this wild beast. It was all worthy of a chuckle as the beast looked more likely to lick you to death than take a bite. Resolved to a dinner of kebabs and no fresh fish, we trekked back to the cabin for some past due journal writing, dinner and evening Uno tourneys.



Our final day on FI took us to Rainbow Gorge, a sand-blow (moving dune) a few hundred metres inland through some rainforest with brightly coloured orange and creamy lichen. The rainforest opens up into a treeless void with variably coloured sand ranging from white to tones of yellow, orange, beige and black. It looked like a moonscape of sorts and the kids likened it to a scene out of Star Wars. A steep dune rose up before us on one side and like Everest simply had to be climbed. From the top the kids rolled and scrambled down with much glee and having had our fill we headed back to our Land Rover for one last in-land trek. We had anticipated time to hike to Lake Wabby – the deepest freshwater lake on the Island with dunes that you could apparently slide down into the water, but time was of the essence so continued our journey to Kingfisher Bay and the ferry barge terminal. The resort there is absolutely stunning with a couple of pools, a heated spa and trails out to the calm beach on the lee-side of the island. We decided to enjoy our last few hours with Uncle Fraser by treating him to lunch at the resort and enjoying the tranquillity of the surrounds. The water was like glass on our short ferry-ride back to the mainland and we made it back to Fraser Magic 4WD hire without incident. Bessie and Gertie were waiting – keen to get back on the road and down to Brisbane. Uncle Fraser had decided to rent a car as he wished to visit some of his friends down on the Gold Coast so we said our goodbyes and headed onward. Now I’m not sure what the planners were thinking but virtually all the way to about 50kms outside of Brissie, the road is single lane with the occasional overtaking lane. We were pushing it to try to make it to the caravan park before closing at 7 pm but soon found out our efforts were to be obviously unsuccessful. Fortunately, they were able to leave our site information at reception so en route we were able to get fed and ensure we arrived alive with fuel in the tank. Our last night in Gertie had arrived and exhausted from our long day we crashed, the end of our 6 month journey nearing an end.

The Whitsundays – Part II & III

After a pleasant night off Hook Island (with no sight of Peter Pan or Tinkerbell) we ventured northward and through a narrow pass to Luncheon Bay – the first of our dive/snorkeling spots for the day. Jen and Fraser joined the first dive owing to their previous experience while I took the kids into shore for some snorkeling around the reef. The water was about 25 degrees Celsius, so not too frigid and while Aidan and Cole independently swam around gawking at the amazing fish and coloured corals, I helped Piper. She is lacking in insulation though and it wasn’t long before she was chilly and clamboured on my back for a shuttle to shore. In tag team fashion, Fraser and Jen came to shore and I jumped back in, joining the dive master and three others for an introductory dive. I was a little nervous to start due to all this hoopla around asthmatics and diving but the chest was feeling good so I knew it wasn’t going to be an issue. Given you’re reading this now and I’m the author I obviously survived the dive and enjoyed it thoroughly. You’d think snorkeling around and seeing essentially the same things from above would suffice but actually getting down to the bottom and being able to swim with the adjacent sea-life was a phenomenal experience. The only issue I had was with my frontal sinuses which seemed to have difficulty decompressing as I went down causing a rather sharp headache just above my eyes. It did settle somewhat so I didn’t miss out on anything and kept up with the group. Back at the boat we were fed and then pointed the helm northward again to a spot called Blue Pearl Bay for another snorkeling/dive experience. I opted to take the kids this time while Jen and Fraser had another go. It was here that we caught up with Lady Gaga and hundreds of other fish which seem to congregate due to the free tucker supplied by the ships’ crew. The cheeky Irish-chap feeding the fish would throw the fish-food directly into our vicinity causing the water to erupt with fish trying to get their share. It was almost scary as they would virtually be swimming and banging into your mask. Cole spent a good portion of his time trying to reach out and touch as many with his hands as possible. On the shore, Aidan felt compelled to climb some of the rocks which rose up into a cliff over the water and I followed in suit to keep an eye on him. Cole joined us once he’d finished traumatizing the sea-life. Back on the boat again, the Captain steered us back around Hook Island to a sheltered area called Morena Inlet and anchored for the evening. While Jen and I enjoyed the Coral Sea trout, Fraser and the kids hoovered down the steak – seemingly famished from the day’s escapades. While the kids settled with a movie, Jen, Fraser, myself and an Israeli tourist popped open the Scrabble board for a game. Meanwhile the chef entered the galley carrying two full pints of water placed with the openings facing one another and then balanced over two pens on top of a jug below. He offered an extension to happy hour if we as a group were able to figure out how to get the water from the upper cup into the jug without touching the apparatus, using only a twenty-dollar bill. Our gay comrade Glynn from Newscorp International in the U.K. solved the puzzle and cheap drinks reigned for another hour or so. The human puzzle was the next challenge, involving two pieces of thin rope with wrist loops. Criss-crossed and then applied to the two lucky puzzle solvers it became an exercise in problem solving and body contortions. Jen and Fraser had a go and with much twisting and turning managed to remain attached. The organizers eventually caved in and provided the solution but not until it had been through the ranks with more gymnastic trials. Finally, Glynn and his companion Steve challenged us to a team ‘noodle’ lowering task where two groups of 5 had to hold up a swimming noodle (flotation device) with the backs of our index and middle fingers and lower it en masse to the ground – an exercise in interpersonal communication and the physical failure thereof. It was near impossible to get started and if anything we only seemed to raise the bar rather than make any progress towards the ground. It wasn’t until we decided to slide all of our fingers together at opposite ends before we were able to somehow communicate to lower it – good fun. In the end Fraser prevailed at Scrabble and we virtually collapsed in our beds full of good cheer, tasty food and drink.

The Whitsundays Part III

Day 3 greeted us with a bit of blustery winds and a drop in temperature yet the program had to go on and off we trekked to a peak overlooking Whitehaven Beach, touted to be one of the finest beaches in the world. The sand is 90% silica and, as we were told on multiple occasions, some of it was used to make the glass for the Hubble telescope. After a rather wet dinghy ride in we, like about a hundred other tourists, made our way up a short track to the look out and gazed upon the turquoise blue tones framing the beach in all its glory down below. Back on the boat we powered to the south end of the beach and took the dinghy in to enjoy an afternoon playing in the sand and enjoying the sheltered waters. The beach sand has resulted from millions of years of erosion from rocks formed from the earth’s mantle. Millenniums ago this area used to be the Alps of Australia but after a couple Ice Ages and tectonic movements it has been relegated into a chain of beautiful and virtually untouched islands. Having dammed some beach-going waters and run ourselves silly on the beach we headed back to the boat to head back up to Hook Island and another sheltered inlet for the night. Dinner again was superb and while the kids quickly settled after a busy day, we hit the Scrabble board again with Jen taking the honours this time. We had but one day to go and we were in no hurry for this dreamy escape to end but alas every good thing has to and we toddled off to bed a bit sheepish, realizing that we’d be back in our tin can very soon.

The Whitsundays (Part I), Lady Gaga (Elvis is dead!) and the Magic!

We are still alive! Sorry for the tardiness of this blog update but we’ve been essentially marooned on a sailing ship out of contact with civilization ie) internet access. With a day in hand after Piper’s birthday before the sailing adventure we engaged the boys in their school work and with Uncle Fraser around, endeavoured to plug some fitness into the day. It’s funny how one extra responsible adult permits enough flexibility to add some ‘me’ time. We’ve been abnormally slack in our fitness so it was an eye-opener and treat to finally do some. I elected to tackle some of the Airlie Beach hills on the bike – nothing like signs indicating 9% and 10% grades to peak your interest! Fraser bravely went for a run up and down these beasts and Jen had a go as well. We also needed to check in for our trip so found the company office and went through signing ours and our kids’ lives away as is the usual requirement. The option of scuba diving popped up and since I’ve been pining to get some in whenever we’ve been near the coast I managed to find a clinic nearby to have a dive medical – a requirement due to my asthma. After a saline challenge test involving increasingly long exposures to misted salty water and then spirometry, the lovely German doctor reluctantly granted me my ‘fit to dive’ certificate and told me not to die – she’d only been there a month and didn’t want a death on her hands. I assured her I would take ample care and thanked her for taking a scientific, evidence-based approach to the matter. Apparently, asthmatics comprise the highest group of morbidities and fatalities in scuba diving due to the difficulties some get with spastic bronchi (tubes in the lungs) and their propensity for blocking off segments of the lung from decompression as you ascend from depth. The area of lung then pops and if it expands quickly can cause what’s called a tension pneumothorax which if not resolved – is incompatible with life. Not being highly reactive in exercise or ‘fearful’ pursuits I was confident my asthma – which is mild at best at present – was unlikely to widow my wife and have her cash in on the life insurance.
Sailing day arrived but due to tides had to wait until the late afternoon before we were able to board and make it out of the harbour. With only a little over two weeks in Oz to go I set into some of the administrative tasks – banking et al – which needs completing before our departure. After clipping together the final pieces in their new Lego projects, the kids once again delved into their studies, trying to complete most of the week’s assignments before the sailing trip. We boarded the Magic of the Whitsundays, a 35 metre tall ship schooner built in Turkey 16 years ago and large enough to hold 38 tourists and crew. We had fortunately chosen a good time to go as there were only 13 of us embarking – all from overseas. It’s a beautiful wooden boat from stem to stern with 3 masts, an upper deck, lower deck with shade cloth covering and the galley where we have our gourmet meals – about the closest I may ever get to a cruise liner and for this I am very happy. Not really a big fan of those massive ocean going liners – always struck me as idiosyncratic while I was working in places where the people were as poor as dirt and you could see the opulence of an ocean liner on the horizon – just not right. As we exited port and entered the Whitsunday Strait – named by Captain Cook for the Sunday seven days after Easter - ie) the Whit Sunday, the sails went up and powered this massive wooden bulk some 8 knots up the passage to our first night’s anchorage at Stonehaven inlet. Prior to dinner we had our scuba briefing. Our scuba dive-master was a bleach blonde-haired Frenchman with a dead-pan sense of humour. As he skimmed through the basics of diving and breathing underwater he juxtaposed his address with descriptions of sea cucumbers, basic creatures which are essentially a thickened tube – eating through one end and excreting waste through the other (of course he liked to call it ‘Poo’ and said it a few times for emphasis). He described it as a true ‘dick – head’ as all the sexual organs sit towards the mouth end where one would expect to find a brain. He seemed to dwell on these sorts of details rather than those of the intricacies of diving – giving the briefing a rather jovial, light-hearted touch. He reminded me of our ski guide back in Chamonix although never once uttered “and god bless.” Dinner was a seasoned organic chicken breast atop of risotto in some mildly spiced sauce – succulent and beautiful. The Captain spoke to us after dinner, giving us a breakdown of where we’d been and where we were going. He was very humorous as well, pointing out the obvious in a succinct and witty manner. One of our main ‘adventure’ destinations the next day was home to a large, currently trans-sexual Maori Wrasse, the tropical fish equivalent of a bus. Wrasse are territorial and predominantly female with one large male called the Napoleon (because of the bump on its forehead) Maori (because of the seemingly Maori-like tattooing pattern to their face) Wrasse that essentially rules the roost. When he dies one of the women have to change sex and become the male – amazing! The former, and now deceased. Maori wrasse in the area was named Elvis and the new emerging one, aptly named, Lady Gaga owing to the previously questioned sexuality of the pop-star and the similar nature of the metamorphosing wrasse. Altogether, it was an enlightening afternoon and evening and we looked forward to our adventures over the next few days.

The Big Mango, Uncle Fraser arrives and Piper turns 4!

The count down and build up to Piper’s birthday has been incessant for the past few weeks with the boys eyeing virtually anything girly in a store and contemplating purchasing it for her birthday – nice brotherly love but a bit overboard! The day was finally upon us and Piper woke with a gleam in her eye, knowing her special day had arrived. As we crowded around her on mom and dad’s bed, she opened her presents and cards and was content that she’d received everything she’d hoped – it was all very fulfilling and gleeful. With the niceties out of the way, we got down to business and packed up shop to head to Airlie Beach and the imminent arrival of Uncle Fraser who was catching up with us after a few pit stops from London.
We’ve made a pact to stop at every ‘Big Thing’ that we encounter on our route around this big island and we were almost caught off guard when the Big Mango announced itself. It essentially looks like a massive mango-coloured egg which sits adjacent a tourist information centre on the side of the highway. There weren’t a tremendous amount of Mango Orchards visible from the highway – more sugar cane than anything else so we would have expected to see a giant cane moreso than a mango. It apparently is representative of a specific variety that grows in the area (Bowen Mango’s?) and we sampled some sorbet made from its fruit at the tourist info centre to calm our curiosity and growing hunger pangs. Airlie Beach eventually came up on the radar and we eventually found our caravan park which sat a good 5 kms from the central business district. Aidan and Cole put together a platter of cheese, veg and cold meats for a mid-afternoon snack and by the time it was all cleaned up, it was time to collect Uncle Fraser from the ferry terminal. Piper’s birthday and Uncle Fraser’s arrival had Aidan and Cole teetering with excitement – they knew he always came laden with gifts and this time was no exception. His bags gradually emptied and through the onslaught of show and tell we eventually pulled the crew into town for a birthday dinner at a local restaurant. Piper had requested sushi but the Sushi place looked a bit unceremonial and weak on ambiance so we found a nice sit down place where Nicole Kidman, Keith Urban and a few other celebs had been to in the past and signed some plates that they’d plastered on the wall. Despite a rather sexist, demeaning poster in the men’s toilet depicting a scantly clad woman and qualities thereof which would deem her ‘perfect’, the establishment had a lot going for it with well cooked tasty meals and delicious desserts. As I read the poster to Aidan on one of many bathroom visits with child, a fellow patron added that perfection would entail that she clean fish and fill the fuel tank of the boat motor as well – I couldn’t relate and it made me feel like we’d regressed somehow into primitive cave speak and I left rather shocked and unimpressed. Here in the country of a ‘fair go’ and ‘true blue’ and women are readily and without much thought, diminished to an objectified slave – and this in a well established classy place – unbelievable! I have sense of humour – but it just wasn’t funny.
Piper’s evening wasn’t ruined though and in her new birthday dress she enjoyed her spaghetti and meatballs without an ounce of spillage. Her evening was capped off with a serenade of ‘Happy Birthday’ complete with a slice of caramel mud chocolate cake, a single candle and one big smile! She’s a special little one!

Catch up info, Charters Towers and onto Townsville – back to the big smoke!

When I write these things I tend to get on a roll and sometimes omit certain things which I later wish I had noted. For example, as we were driving into Winton the road signs went on for a good 3 kms, one after another and right in the midst of them all was one with a bright yellow background and pinkish letters indicating there was “Free Sex” – presumably in Winton. About 5 signs later the Winton town sign came into view with the additive of “friendliest town on the Barkly” – so perhaps the previous sign wasn’t a joke! On the way out of Winton en route to Hughenden we had to drive on what appeared to be a single width highway for a good portion of the way with barely enough space for on coming traffic to get past – fortunately there wasn’t too many coming the other direction. Halfway up to Hughenden we began to see little squalls of black dots coming towards us in waves – the locusts were about. We hit a fair few with the masses getting so thick at times they came close to obscuring the sky – amazing. They weren’t small little creatures either, giving me a good 3-D experience as they hit my windshield, seemingly the size of hummingbirds. There was probably more to tell that I’ve missed but alas I can’t get everything in here.



Goodbye dinosaur trail – hello big city. A chilly morning did not deter us from shoving off at a reasonable hour – destination – Townsville! The temp held a steady 18 degrees until we seemed to scamper over some great divide and then it climbed to 24. It was about this time that we had made it to Charters Towers – a former (and current) Gold Mining town, 110 kms outside of Townsville. We decided to stop for lunch and have a look around as it was said to have some interesting old buildings. It reminded me of York (the town just east of Perth we visited a couple months ago). It hasn’t been invaded by the insidious ‘box mall’ so the main street remains vibrant and packed with small enterprises giving it a hustle bustle country flair. We hit the information / visitor centre and were nearly attacked by the info representative there – Had we started our Queensland Passport? We needed to start our Queensland Passport – we could win $1000! Right – Jen took the bait while I flittered around trying to find some info on Townsville and attempting to control the boys who were obviously a bit keen to run around and get some energy out but weren’t in the most appropriate place to do so. We found what we needed then headed down the bustling main drag to find a café for lunch. Aside from problems heating up my tasty chicken and mushroom filo wrap, the food hit the spot and set us up for the remainder of our drive to Townsville. We weren’t sure what to expect of Townsville, thinking it might be a sort of moderate-sized coastal town but nothing could have been further from the truth. It was urban sprawl with box malls seemingly everywhere and that definitive driving style one finds in congested city areas, like everyone is in a race to get to their 9 to 5 jobs and keep up the mortgage or car payments. We found our caravan park which happened to be just off the highway with a great outdoor pool set up complete with slides, a kiddie pool and the essential jumping pillow. The pool looked great but water was fairly chilled limiting the time we were able to enjoy it so we moved onto the jumping pillow and played “poison ball” – an Aussie equivalent to dodge ball – good fun which attracted a few other kids from around the park.



Being in the big smoke we decided to get some preliminary tasks done – like fixing the chips in the windshield and hitting Cash Converters to exchange Jen’s bike and our old detachable bike rack for some cold hard cash. We also found some boxes to start the packing process over the next week or so – not something we’re looking forward to – it’ll be a bit messy! We headed into the Museum of Tropical North Queensland and the Reef HQ aquarium (complete with turtle hospital) in the afternoon. The Museum was terrific with plenty of hands on kids’ things and intriguing displays for the adults. As you climb the stairs to enter the main foyer you are greeted by a life-size partial model of the HMS Pandora – the tall ship sent to collect the mutineers from the Bounty who were held up in Tahiti living a life of pleasure with their Tahitian wives and children. Only a few had stayed in Tahiti, Fletcher Christian and 8 others made their way to Pitcairn Island with their Tahitian companions and by the time the island was eventually discovered, only one remaining mutineer had survived, John Adams. The Pandora never made it back to England after collecting its prisoners as it ran aground on the Great Barrier Reef and sank in about 30 metres of water. At that time, it had been sailing for about 5 months since picking up the unfortunate prisoners in Tahiti. The prisoners were kept in what was called ‘Pandora’s Box’ – a wooden hold on the main deck which held each prisoner inside in shackles and leg irons – unbelievably harsh conditions. Although a number of lives were lost in its sinking, many did survive and eventually made their way to Timor where there was an English Colony, sailing and paddling their way in overcrowded life boats. Other exhibits included Mawson’s expedition to find the South Magnetic Pole and the trials and tribulations of others who attempted the same. Interestingly, Mawson never quite made it to the exact pole as it is constantly shifting. The magnetic pole wasn’t reached exactly until 2000! Upstairs from the main level held a kids section and some dinosaur and rainforest interactive zones. With the afternoon quickly escaping us we made our way down the street to the Reef HQ aquarium. The highlight here was the Turtle presentation which led to a visit to the turtle hospital attached to the aquarium. The aquarium runs a conservation and rehabilitation program for injured or sick turtles in conjunction with some local vets. Only one per thousand turtles survive from hatchling to adult and this statistic appears to be getting worse due to human imposed dangers such as pollution (plastic bags) and speed boats. The hospital had 4 in-patients at the time of our visit – 2 with a history of pneumonia (diagnosed by x-rays) and the other two traumatized by outboard motors. Apparently if the shell gets cracked they are lucky to survive as it essentially covers their internal organs and opens them up to infection. We learned from the other parts of the aquarium that phytoplankton actually produces 70% of the earth’s oxygen (Jen wanted me to add this as she felt it important). All in all it was quite an educational afternoon and we trekked back to camp with plans for some sustenance, another jump on the jumping pillow and finally an evening treat of Top Gear as we were adjacent the communal kitchen complete with TV. The excitement in the masses was accruing as we were on the verge of Piper’s B-day in the AM in addition to the imminent arrival of Uncle Fraser on the same day. Sleep came quick after some final pressie wrapping in anticipation of the big day!