Mad Ted and the Mud Song

In our typical fashion, we descended into town for fuel, a visit to the info centre (primarily to get our certificates indicating our crossing of the fabled Nullarbor) and the traditional extra strong take away lattes needed before and during any willful venture. I had collected the coffees and was en route to find the clan who had gone for pictures with corrugated iron renditions of camels, when I found them in avid discussion with a fellow whose name I later found out was Mad Ted...Mad Ted of Norseman to be precise. He was your classical Aussie Old Fella with a long tattered beard to match his clothing and wafting odour. A tremendous soul was he though, presenting flowers to the kids and Jen and having his wife help him show off his Santa stunts on his mobile phone- we nearly had to winch ourselves away from his incessant conversation which eventually subsided. We've promised him a card once we're back in Canada! Back on the tarmac, we pointed the beast directly South towards Esperance. Jen was keen for us to see the Dundas Rocks - only a short trip out of town. Turns out Dundas used to be a small gold mining community which has for the most part simply disappeared back into the forest and scrub whilst Norseman took over. The rocks - multiple large eroded granite boulders piled haphazardly around the area were somewhat impressive but not worth leaving our nicely air conditioned confines. While Jen attended to some urgent nature's business, I attempted to turn Bessie and Gertie around so we could continue our journey south to Esperance. This entailed driving further up the dirt track which due to recent rains appeared puddled and soppy in areas. Sure enough I managed to find the mud pit and much to the kids' delight started spinning mud-balls onto Bessie and the mirrors without making much headway. The irony was that Jen had recently found some Rolf Harris songs on the ipod and as I was wallowing in the muck, Rolf was singing out the "Mud, Mud, Mud" of the Hippopotamus Song. Despite my distress - it was hard not have a little chuckle. Jen was about 400ms back and wondering what the hell I was doing and why I had left her back alone amongst the scrub. I managed to sort myself out of the muck somehow and with Jen back on board, navigated ourselves back to the highway, dirtied but unbowed. We made it to Esperance just after lunch and as we had been unable to replenish supplies for a few days, opted for a Subway lunch which was enjoyed by all. Not sure if it was the last few days of heavy driving, lack of fitness or what but I was feeling listless and lazy today. The kids had plenty of spunk though and after tearing apart the caravan park's kiddie playground we headed across the road to the white sandy beach for a stroll and play. Along the foreshore these seeming nests or bundles of thin, dry seaweed cluttered the ocean break. They were like intermittent straw-like cushions which the kids gleefully threw themselves upon and hopped through. We found the remnants of a deepish sand pit another crew of beach-kids had left and Cole, being the brazen, rather crazy kid that he is, decided to take a run at it and slide down the central mound to the bottom. For all intents and purposes it actually appeared as though he was jumping into a deep unending pit - immediately disappearing from view only to pop up seconds later with a grin that scaled from ear to ear. With dark approaching we scuttled back to Gertie and prepared for another evening amongst the hordes.

Mythbusting the Nullarbor and Fruit, veg and communications withdrawal

The Nullarbor – this icon of Australian geography, mythical in its breadth and isolation, part of the essence of the great Australian circumnavigational journey, arduous, long and touted as devoid of features – making its crossing a seeming quest and near heroic task. It wasn’t so bad. Perhaps we lucked out with rainy weather the first day and mild temps the next (highs of 26 degrees only) but all tolled the journey wasn’t as monotonous and difficult as preconceived. Firstly I would like to debunk the name – Nullarbor. For the entire 1500 odd kms across there wasn’t a stretch that I could say was without a tree so it perplexed me how such a name could stick to an obviously unbarren plain. It struck me moreover as akin to the African Plains than anything truly lacking in life or vegetation. The drive through the middle of Australia was comparably far more barren in parts especially around Woomera where scrub brush pervaded. The trees, as in other parts of this trip, were fascinating in design and artistic bent (especially the dead ones). Through stretches of predominantly dead trees one gets an almost gothic sense with intricate curves and wayward branches often bent sideways as if the wind was constantly applying its force. Some intrepid and creative tourists have livened up the roadside scenery at points by decorating various dead trees with assorted refuse. Some appear as literal Op-shop trees with a mix of t-shirts, undies, shoes, socks etc, while others seem more thematic with skulls from local roadkill, others with a preponderance of hats, shoes or bras and underwear to add a little seductive touch to the drive. Unfortunately, the enthusiasm of these occasional sculptures gradually waned throughout the drive and instead we had to be transfixed by the simple straightness of the road (there is a 90 mile stretch – the longest absolutely straight road / highway in the world), the incredible vistas which appear over the horizon of one hill onto another and occasional crazed lunatic(s) pulling a rickshaw-like contraption or riding a bike. Another distraction which I’ve developed into a near reflex action is the index finger wave as another fellow traveler crosses paths in the opposite direction. You know you’re in a personable, friendly country when nearly every driver that passes (the truckies excepted of course), courteously responds to the simple wave of the finger reflex. It takes a bit of timing and knack though as Jen has found out – her success rate is probably sitting around the 50 % at present – she is a bit too aggressive and almost desperate with her finger wave or flick– sometimes unknowingly concealing it behind the screen for the rear-view camera or behind the blind. She’s working on the languid subtlety of the slow gradual extension without releasing the steering wheel and is being rewarded with an improved response. She’ll get it – not to worry. Of greater worry to us both – especially since crossing through quarantine, has been the near incessant withdrawal symptoms from our beloved fruits and veggies. Servos along the way have had scant anything let alone fresh veg or fruity bits. It wasn’t until we were nearly at the end of the crossing that we finally stumbled upon some bananas which we devoured like something out of a B-movie zombie flick. The other main withdrawal has been our lack of linkage to the rest of the world. We were entirely without mobile access for the entire day today – some would welcome such lack of intrusion into their lives and aim to cherish such periods but for us the lack of connection nearly drove us batty. We even attempted to pay for internet use at a servo midway along the path but alas this was doomed to failure as their system was down. Strange that only a few years ago we were without such encumbrances and no the wiser – now the inability to touch base or stay connected to the outside world is almost tantamount to committing harikari! Perhaps this was the most isolating part of the journey. The phones eventually sprang to life as we were about the enter Norseman after a very long day on the road and relief spread across both Jen and I – once again in touch with the world. The kids burnt off very few calories today although their ocular muscles sustained quite a work out watching images dance across the screen for the greater portion of the day. We’ve only got a short stretch of driving ahead of us tomorrow so we should be able to re-start the fitness regime again. Thus far, traveling has not been all that conducive to improved or even some sort of maintenance of cardiovascular fitness - we’ll simply have to try harder to make it happen. So without further ado – farewell to the Nullarbor – and in the famous words of Rocky Balboa – “You ain’t so bad!” …but were glad we won’t have to drive you again anytime soon.

Murphy's Haystacks, Streaky Bay and Nullus Arbor

Whilst in Alice we picked up a book called "Are We There Yet?" by Alison Lester. It's a kids book about another family of 5's trip around Australia. It has become our new guide - everything they've been to see is now on our must do list and Murphy's Haystacks was one of these. They're not actually haystacks but some Irish harrowing fanatic made some elusive comments as to the benefits of harrowed fields and noted these rocky outcrops on Murphy's field many years ago - suggesting their presence was due to the farmer's excellent harrowing - essential for the growth of hay. Seeing how it all fits together? The haystacks are actually what are called Inselbergs or "rock islands" which are due to hard exposed granite around which erosion of softer rock/ soil has occurred and left them towering over the ground in different shapes and sizes - all quite impressive really and worth a visit. We got carried away a bit and tried to record our upcoming video of Caravan of Love - our traveling theme song - while standing atop one of the boulders. I think we managed to entertain or amuse some passers by as they seemed stopped in their tracks for the duration of our assault on this pleasant acapela song. Cole gave it the heavy metal touch, whilst Aidan sang out loud and proud and added actions fitting the verses as best he could. Piper merely attempted to climb up the rock, eventually requiring Jen to give her a boost. I was the camera-man and did my best to capture the scene - not sure what will make it to the video, but we'll see as we go. Having had our fill of these odd shaped pillars we trundled off on the dirt road to Point Labatt - thinking loosely of beer (Labatt's being a standard Canadian beer not unlike VB - one for the masses) but moreso of the sea lions touted to be holed up there. It was actually quite a trek and the prize fairly unfulfiling - another tribute to the journey rather than the destination. Back at Streaky Bay I managed to get some woeful aged shop attendant who'd had a hundred packs too many of cigarettes, guide me through the intricacies of setting up my fishing 'rig'. Rod, hooks, sinker and bait in hand, the kids and I headed to the beach to attempt some casting into the shallows with the hope of bringing home a whopper for dinner. 10 to 20 casts of the rod later, I'd managed to go through a good portion of the bait which seemed to fall off as I flung the line over the water and caught the smallest fish (a sardine) you've ever seen. I think it was simply fortuitous anyway as the hook was through' its gill and not its mouth. Needless to say - after enjoying the little sprog's company in our pale for a few minutes, we granted it its freedom and wished it well on future endeavours. For dinner we'd planned a seafood feast and had a plethora of tastes from our visit to a seafood merchant in Port Lincoln and our dozen or so oysters from Sheringa - unshucked. We'd bought the necessary tools and giggled a bit about the different connotations of 'shuck' - as you do - and got to business. The task wasn't all too hard and I managed to successfully open up a dozen without impailing myself (the leather glove came in very handy!). What can I say - I'm a bit of a shucker!

In anticipation of our long drive across the Nullus Arbor or treeless plain - as it has been nomenclatured - we'd copied Bill Bryson's - Sunburnt Country onto our ipod and had finally gotten organized to plug it into our stereo in Bessie. I'd read it the first year we'd been in Oz and recalled it being a riveting read. Now that we've lived here and are far more knowledgeable about this 'land of Oz', his rantings and sensationalisations seem a bit over the top. He comes across as a mellowed John Malkovich, with a similar sounding voice and enunciation, vearing towards pomposity and a hint of gaiety. His weaving of the story is quite titillating though and Jen and I were indeed entranced for each of the many five minute segments the kids would allow us to listen uninterrupted. It was somewhat surreal hearing him relate his experiences on the Indian Express (Ghan) crossing the Nullarbor just as we were making the same journey. As you enter onto the plain you also side-step the Great Australian Bight - a cliffed wall of limestone which looks on maps as though some massive monster of the deep has taken a large bite out of the continent. From May to October you can watch the Southern Right Whale make its annual journey across the Bight so unfortunately there were none for us to gaze upon but we enjoyed the saunter out to the walkways that have been placed to stop unwary travelers from falling off into the brink. Making reasonable time, we managed to make it across the remainder of South Australia to the 'Border Village' - not a village at all really - more of a Quarantine area to stop elicit substances - ie) honey, veggies or fruit from being brashly exported into the protected confines of WA. I have to admit I am a bit remiss at understanding the necessity of such bureaucracy - as a true blue conspiracy theorist I think Coles and Woolies is worried about their market share and has hankered down the government to force naive pro-veggie and fruit travelers to throw out perfectly good cukes and taters grown outside whichever state one's entering so that the exact same bunch can be repurchased within the new borders . Realizing we had to either consume or toss our beloved fruits and veggies en route, we feasted through the afternoon, remembering that if an apple a day kept the doctor away then perhaps 3 or 4 would  make us superhuman or at least super-colonic! After the strip search at the border of WA we eventually sidled up to Euchla and pitched our camp - ready for a few more days of treeless plain onwards towards Esperance, Wave Rock and eventually Perth.

"The Eyre Peninsula - where the experience is the journey"

These words ring true in many ways. It was drafted (or something very similar) on a highway sign as we trekked to Streaky Bay today. My adrenalin junkie shark cage diving experience ended up as more of a sea-sick journey to no-where than adrenalin (epinephrine for the aussie folk) filled, big teeth chomping, soil your pants sort-of affair. We ventured out 2 hrs and 40 mins to our anchorage spot between two islands of happy, lazy sea lions, frolicking on the rocks, minding their own business and for the next 6 hours poured fish blood and guts in the water waiting for the elusive snare of a great white's nostril to come and visit our wee cage. It was myself and about 14 other brave souls wishing a glimpse of this ocean beast so well engraved upon our sub-conscious by countless news renderings and the fatalistic du-dunt, du-dunt, du-duntduduntdudunt - so mechanically portrayed in Jaws. I thought I'd prepared well for the journey taking my two ginger anti-nauseant tabs well in advance of stepping aboard yet the urge to purge sat with me as soon as we were out of the harbour. I did my best to hold it all together until the fated moment I was sitting in the galley, finishing the task of putting on a wetsuit when there was really no way of keeping all that I had savoured earlier in the morning, down the hatch if you will. I wistfully grasped for the standard white vomit bag racked an arms breadth away and proceeded to chunder - I thought  - quite submissively and subtley, until all was good again. Sure enough - not an hour later, lunch was ready for tender and although roughened by the initial blow, felt pangs of hunger which needed to be filled. I felt rather like a Roman at a vomitorium as no sooner had it entered the hatch than found a way out again - this time peacefully and again quite subtley - over the edge - if I couldn't enjoy  it - why shouldn't the fish? I repeated my purging a couple more times and then seemed to settle. I think I managed rather better than some of my colleagues suffering the same fate as I actually was able to function between the chunders. Despite the lack of large toothy grins and fins, I still made my way into the cage for a look around in the deep. If a great pearly white had been visiting, it would have been absolutely thrilling as the bated food sat but meters from the underwater viewing slots and we would have been up close and personal. Earlier in the day, the skipper had teased me about some remnant sunscreen, poorly worked into my ever-growing forehead and I cantered with " it's shark repellant" - talk about famous last words to ruin a day! So unfortunately, the journey to and fro with much ado in between was all we were able to take in on this day - they've given me a voucher for half price next time though ...not sure I'll be able to fit it in - too much country to see - so little time...

As a glutton for punishment, we woke early the following morning to take down camp and join a crew for another ocean-going journey - this time to swim with sea lions. It was all quite festive as it was Aidan's birthday (he's turned 9 ! ). This time I got into the pharmaceuticals - none of this ginger - mumbo-jumbo - homeopathic/alternative glah - full on with the metoclopromide and I was good to go. The trip went without a mishap this time and swimming with these amazingly agile and friendly creatures was cold but very enjoyable and entertaining. It's rare that one can get so close to such natural and friendly beasts - we truly felt fortunate. Once back on terra firma we were off to Streaky Bay - a few hundred kms up the coast, primarily to put some mileage in towards Perth, but also to enjoy a B-day dinner and the local sites and surrounds. Again we were in this amazing rural sprawl of sweeping yellow paddocks, few trees and scrub. At points you could pick out the coast with large dunes invading the countryside. We stopped in a place called Sheringa - should have been Shenanigans - not sure why they stopped short? It was a store in the middle of nowhere really and there was a sign attached to the servo/town store suggesting just that. They were offering fuel - which we needed, and oysters for $5 dollars a dozen! Who could say no to that! I also noted, while fixing up the fuel bill, parcels of 5 acres of land for a mere $30,000 a block - says a little bit about Sheringa, no? Onwards we went, joining the hundreds of other caravaners who had beaten us up the road to the Foreshore Caravan Park. There are literally over a hundred other caravaners "roughing it" with us here on the foreshore. It's almost like an Australian lust for living in a trailer park - and here we've joined the lot - a swarthy group of white upstanding trailer park trash - so good to be alive...and travelling!  Tomorrow we'll see Murphy's Haystack - yet another pile of rocks, and stick our heads in a faux great white shark's mouth - should be good for a couple good snaps!

Flies, Salt Lake and back to Gertie

After a greasy spoon breaky and a couple of proper lattes, Bessie and the troupe were on the road - destination Quorn, to reacquaint ourselves with Gertie. She'd been holed up at the caravan park eagerly awaiting our return, tired of sitting idle and unused. The drive was long and straight for the most part with landscape alternating between low-lying brush and red sand to bushier areas and back again. There are a few salt lakes along the route back and we decided to stop at one called Lake Hart, about halfway to Quorn. Flies were en masse and the head netting was essential for maintaining sanity. We made the stroll down to the "lake" which is essentially one large dried up cake of salt, white to the eyes and going virtually to the horizon. Back on the road we made good time to Port Augusta and Piper joined me to get some supplies while the boys and Jen endeavoured to get the journals done. We hadn't had a chance to get the Easter supplies so I found the Easter aisle and went to town. With a few key chocolate treats in the cart I discussed  with Piper how we needed to keep it secret from the boys and she assured me it was just between her and I. Back at the car, she literally opened the door and announced she had a secret she couldn't tell and it was that we'd got some Easter treats! Oh well - it was good for a chuckle. Gertie was in good nick although the bike cover looked a bit more sun-bleached and she had a slight reddish hue of dust from the rains a few weeks ago. The boys and I had a great game of Monopoly (which Aidan unofficially won) and we headed to bed with dreams of Easter bunnies and Cadbury/Lindt chocolate in our heads. The Easter bunny did come and had hidden a bunch of eggs around the caravan (although some are still unaccounted for...). With glee in our eyes and adventure in our hearts we broke our fast with traditional hot cross buns and croissants (of course) and got back on the road for Port Lincoln.

The drive to Port Lincoln is one through rural sprawl - small towns and then nothing but dry rolling hills or brush for kilometre on kilometre. We had a break in Cowell to take in a local market and a park for the kids. The oysters were cheap, fresh and an absolute succulent slurp - especially the ones with a dabble of jalapeno Tabasco sauce and fresh crushed pepper. We eventually made it to Port Lincoln and were immediately impressed by its coastal serenity and beautiful calm waters gently cresting the shoreline. Although a bit of a number in the crowd at the caravan park (we can almost reach out the window and touch the neighbour's van) the scenery is nice enough, with the ocean on our doorstep. We rode the bikes into the main beach in town along an established walking/cycle track past a massive grain port operation and had a ball navigating the tight corners without Piper falling off (she only did twice!). Tomorrow I'll be off to explore one of the largest ocean predators, face to face, as I'm jumping into a flimsy cage and doing a shark dive. The exhilaration of seeing these massive powerful creatures will be amazing and will fulfill not only my male testosterone-filled need for fear and adventure but also my academic biological interests. Should be quite the trip! Jen and the boys will have an explore of the Port and I'll catch up with them on Aidan's B-day to swim with some sea lions. Too much fun to be had by all!

The Virtues of the out and back to the outback

I've always been a fan of out and back rides or runs as you get an entirely different perspective of the route you've just taken. The same is true of driving. On our way back from Alice there were notably less dead cows, more lizard road-kill and for some reason a number of front-loading washer/dryers spaced about 10kms apart, as though they'd fallen off a vehicle without being noticed - very odd. Jen was worried about me as we cruised along and driver fatigue set in so she took over the honours. I don't think I was hallucinating but we passed one of those diamond yellow warning signs like the ones for kangaroos and I swear, something akin to a Woolie Mammoth/Elephant was painted on it. It was one of those things where you see something and your brain takes a bit to process the information and realize it doesn't fit with what you would expect. We didn't turn around to go back and look - but I'm sure it wasn't your typical kangaroo warning sign. Driving into Coober Pedy from the other side during broad daylight is an interesting phenomenon as well. 40 km or so out and you start to see the human-made anthills which stand out on the horizon as they are a whiter/pink looking gravel compared to the surrounding red and light green of the low-lying scrub. The closer you get the more numerous and larger they become with larger piles overshadowing smaller ones of differing pink and reddish hues. It makes you wonder how the whole place doesn't simply cave in on itself. We're staying at the Mud Hut Hotel, near the entrance to the town and it's packed with people who've come in for the Easter Festival here in Coober today - stunt flying, sausage (bomb) throwing, three-legged races etc. As we had pretty much done Coober Pedy on the way up to Alice, we focused on getting some energy out of the kids after a cooped up ride for 7 hrs. We found the town pool which was a bit chilly but always fun for the kids, then headed into town for pizza, parmy chicken burger and some pasta at not a bad little restaurant. Back at the motel, James May's Toy Story was being broadcast so we tucked in for a watch as we've become avid Top Gear, Richard Hammond, Jeremy and James fans - enjoying their adult sillies and boyish hi-jinx - very English! Aidan was in his element as James was building a Lego house in which to live (for at least 24 hrs) - it was quite an intriguing documentary - who knows - maybe Lego is the future of construction? Today we'll probably get an early start to Quorn and get Gertie the caravan all sorted for the next chapter of our travels.

Alice in a nutshell and we're off

Took the opportunity and woke early for a run this past Thursday. As I ran out the door and around the corner the sun was just rising over one of the ridges which enclose Alice Springs and the sky was a bright crimson red - absolutely stunning! I managed to put in 53 minutes - which is good for me - I've been struggling to get in over 30-40 minutes as the legs aren't there yet. Should hopefully break the hour in the next few weeks if I can fit it in to the travel. My last day of work went off without a hitch and everyone was overly kind in wishing me well on our travels. Cole had a great surprise in the mail, with an envelope full of cards from his former class at the Narrandera East Infants - he was overjoyed and Jen and I both moved by the gesture. He'll have his work cut out responding - but will get something together. I caught up with Jen and the kids at lunch the same day at one of the local aboriginal art stores. We'd been to 'Des-art' the night before - an evening at a local Desert Park with artists/craftspeople from the surrounding areas, and left fairly unimpressed. It was almost as if you are aboriginal and wish to throw some dots on paper you are entitled to sell your work at these pseudo art shows. Some was of decent quality while most was your average 'dot work'. I am admittedly almost dotted out, although do appreciate the dream-time stories surrounding the works. At the art store we purchased a piece which was a bit more free-form - a series of large coloured circles representing waterholes.  We're looking forward to eventually putting it on the wall to enjoy.

We've had a great time in Alice as there was plenty to keep Jen and the kids occupied and it was quite the experience working in a small aboriginal community. It's an odd place in many ways with a very high incidence of violence (about 1 in 20 have been assaulted), yet a sort of beatnik, hippie feel especially from the artsy Caucasian crowd. There's sort of a peaceful-coating over an underpinning of debauchery much like the feeling one has wandering through a developing country, one eye forward, the other behind your back, treading carefully and avoiding trouble. The poverty is simply awe-provoking especially in that it seems rampant in the midst of a developed country - a tragedy really. Despite the destitution though, the patients I met and cared for were generally content and the kids incredibly accommodating and friendly. I was pleasantly surprised and never felt ill-at-ease within the community. We're off to Coober Pedy now for a night on Good Friday, then down to Quorn to collect the caravan and make our way to Port Lincoln.