Exmouth to Carnarvon

The drive from Port Samson to Exmouth, was a long one for us traveling for 7 hours and covering 550klm. The drive was a continuation of WA desert landscape and easy traveling. Exmouth is located on North West cape and only came into existence in the 1970s when a US communications base was built there, so the town was established to support it. It has been interesting to realise that many of the north west towns are younger than me. However, Exmouth is a popular tourist destination now with the nearby Ningaloo reef and its turtles, dugongs, hump back whales and the huge but harmless whale sharks. The Ningaloo reef which is over 200klm long, is quite close to the shore and creates a haven for marine life so snorkeling and diving in the clear aqua waters is fantastic.

We stayed two nights at Exmouth and then went around to the ocean side of the cape and spent a week at “Yardie Creek Homestead Caravan Park”. It was a short drive from here to the clear waters of the coast where we swam with turtles, snorkeled the reef and walked Olly. The photos include “Turquoise Bay” which is a beautiful bay for snorkeling in the Cape Range national park. I am told that the aborigines consider the whole of the north west cape a bad place as a result of many of them being killed by a severe cyclone in the area before the arrival of European settlers, so they do not inhabit the area, which is quite different to most north west WA towns.

Next stop was Coral Bay which is a 150klm drive down the coast and also on the Ningaloo reef. It is another beautiful bay with crystal clear water and good snorkeling inside the reef. It is a marine sanctuary so teams with fish including the spangled emperor that are swimming around me in the photo as I enter the boat. The landscape at Exmouth and Coral Bay is very dry with Coral bay being located on sand dunes with the only vegetation being low scrub and small shade trees that look like silky oaks but they live on the salty subterranean water and drop this salty water all over any thing underneath them in the night, including cars and caravans, so ours was covered in blobs or dust and salt after a week there. There is no water available to connect to your van and you either buy bottled water from the shop or fill bottles from drinking water taps around the park. A large goanna (pictured) lives in the caravan park and gives the tourists a scare when he wanders under your car of van. Worse still there was no radio reception, no ABC or SBS TV and unwatchable commercial channels. I do like my luxuries so we were not unhappy to leave after a week. However, the beauty of the bay and reef make it a place well worth visiting. Coral Bay is the location of a shark "nursery", it is a shallow cove where sharks come in over the reef, give birth to their live babies and then leave the babies to fend for themselves. Walking along the beach here you have a great view of lots of reef sharks one to one and a half meters long swimming in the shallows only five meters away. We kept Olly on the lead here.

From Coral Bay it was about 250klm to Carnarvon, with a population of 8000, the largest town we have stayed in since Karratha. We crossed the tropic of Capricorn on the way and the temperature is now comfortable in the mid 20s, the first time we have had day time temperatures below 30 in four months. Olly is very happy to be in a cooler climate. Carnarvon is an oasis in the desert with a good clean water supply from under the dry bed of the Gasgoyne river, providing extensive irrigation for the fruit and vegetable farms that surround the river. The area provides 70 percent of WA’s tropical and subtropical fruits. We have bought beautiful bananas, capsicum, beans and tomatoes that are being picked at the moment. Unfortunately we are too early for the mangoes. The caravan park we are in is surrounded by paddocks filled with capsicum, tomato and chili plants. It is such a pleasant change to see green trees and gardens, instead of desert, the first since Kunnanurra.

Carnarvon is famous for its 100 year old jetty that is one kilometer long. Sue and I looked at it on our first day we were here, but as it is a recommended as good fishing spot we planned to return the next day with the fishing gear to walk the length of it. Unfortunately that night a section of the jetty was damaged by a fire apparently lit by vandals. It is going to be closed for at least a year so we missed or opportunity. There are some other fishing spots so we might try them tomorrow. We drove 70klm back up the coast to The Blowholes a scenic but rugged part of the coast as shown in the photo. Carnarvon is also home to a large satellite dish, not as big as the Parkes dish, but as it is no longer used it is lit up at night and looks like a big moon trying to rise over the town. It was last used to track Halley’s comet’s last visit to Earth.

We meet some interesting folks in caravan parks, as were our neighbors, a mid 20’s couple from Melbourne, who we have been chatting to over the last few days. Their tragic story was that last week they were traveling north from here when as a result of an argument they had causing distress to their dog who jumped out an open window in the back of their Toyota 4wd camper. They were traveling at about 100 kph and did not realise this had happened at the time. So all they know that their dog vanished from the van somewhere over a 40 klm distance. The window was not normally open as far as it was on this occasion but they did not hear or see a thing. They have spent the last week making contact with the relevant council authorities, property owners in the area, putting up notices, driving the route several times at 20kph calling the dog’s name, and stopping to investigate the many circling birds along the way. All with no success, as yet unfortunately. During their time here they palled up with a local fisherman who took them to some good spots but was a bit of a loose cannon and a feral with missing teeth etc. He had a few drinking nights with them celebrating their catches over a carton of bourbon, bottle of vodka and whatever else was going. As last night was their last night here he and his mate came around for a BBQ and a few more cartons. At about midnight Sue and I awoke to the sound of a revving engine as they left and were glad we were not on the road. We found out this morning that the feral and his mate had a fight over driving the vehicle which belongs to the mate, as the mate wanted to walk home and the feral wanted to drive. The feral took off in the mate’s vehicle, and proceeded to cut off a police car out the front of the park, in the mean time the mate reported his car stolen. Understandably our neighbors were pleased to leave this morning, getting away from the pair of them. The feral fisherman has promised to bring Sue and I a fish before we leave, but I don’t really mind if he does not deliver on that promise, that’s if he can make bail ? So Robert, you were right in some of your comments.

Well that’s all our adventures for now and we are off to Denman and Monkey Mia in Shark Bay on Friday.

Love, Sue Chris & Olly.





Fish feeding frenzy.


Coral Bay


Resident of Coral Bay caravan park


Cape range Coast


Turquoise Bay

View from Exmouth lighthouse

The tackiest place in England

Hi everyone, hope you're all well.

As I mentioned in my latest e-mail, I spent the weekend in Blackpool with Katy. It really is the tackiest place in England, if not the world! Enjoy the pics.

Love Kel xxx

Happy Birthday Dad!

Isn't he just the cutest little fella you've ever seen?

Happy birthday my Dad! Thank you for being the best dad I could ever wish for. You really are.

And you're a remarkable blogger. Although I don't comment much, I read them all and appreciate them very much.

I'm looking forward to having lunch with you today.

Please admire the magic my pre-press manager has done on your photo - she took a lot of care to deep-etch you from the background and remove Nona's hand... how clever.

I love you so much,
Alice xoxoxxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxxxxx

Wedding jitters

Oh dear! The family curse of reciting the names of everyone else before coming up with the name of the one you are addressing has slipped across the line into my bloging. Of course COK was meant to read SOK in “All the news…” My personal editor pointed out this, um, typo, yesterday. I bet you all think, he’s OK he has his own editor. Well yes I do but unfortunately owing to the time difference between here and the North Shore, my ed usually comes about a week after publication.

Never mind that though whilst on the subject of the North Shore and similar malfunctions I have been brooding on the upcoming wedding ceremony and its coincidence with an election. As we all know a wedding is a once off event even though some thick heads incapable of learning a lesson will cross the line a second and even third time, there are some, in fact, who regard it as a Guinness World Record event but we, the vast majority, regard it as a one off. Elections by contrast, are dime a dozen. No one is going to attempt the world book record for elections, are they? Certainly no one is going to say “dam I missed the election” without the confidence that there will soon be another. Not so weddings. Ah no! For weddings we need to have much more respect, they must be held in much higher esteem for they along with birth and death are foundation stones of personal history without which there is no need for elections and their accompanying politic.

Having said this much I now grant that politics and their electoral results are of great interest to us all. I venture that the audience for an election result would eclipse that of cricket, all the football codes, basket and net ball, hockey, track and field, swimming and chess put together. Everyone has their favorite team, well most, I stand corrected, otherwise why have a campaign. We are bribed and blasted conned and connived by the media for a whole season. Without the benefit of preliminary matches we have to rely on polls for scores and the best head to head comes with a one off penalty shootout debate. Naturally the counting of results in the tally room relayed boring minute by boring minute across the radio and television waves is spellbinding, nail biting compulsive stuff and should be enjoyed. What it should not do is distract us from the main game, the important, once off, societal building block, corner stone of Alice and Jacks Wedding.

Now to cope with all this on the day I wish that all guests would show the dignity and restraint displayed by the guests at Gabby and Adrian’s combined twenty first. There The Sea Eagles, who must have been the home team of the vast majority in attendance, lost conclusively and publicly, on multiple screens. This result was taken blithely in stride as from winger to the fullback for a winning touchdown and without fuss they got on with the main game, Gabby and Adrian’s majority in the adulthood stakes.

Of course it will be easy to be of good cheer if your home team wins. It will on the other hand be incumbent on those who’s team looses, and there must be losers, to remain of good cheer for the common good. To assist all in feeling a state of wellbeing in whatever result I suggest that all come with at least one thought in mind as to how they might enjoy the results of their non-favored team win. Thoughts along the line of how they might spend their 34 billion tax break couldn’t hurt. Thoughts along the line of an incumbent government returning to power with such a limited majority that they no longer feel a mandate and may in fact be hostage to some minor party or independent member could console me. Console yourselves that who ever wins will be the government we deserve and nothing remotely like the government we want who would immediately shut down all coal fired power plants, stop exporting coal to anyone who cant prove that they intend to use it only for sculptural purposes, ban all automobiles that feature engines with more than three cylinders or aren’t electric however many cylinders they need, double, no hold on quintuple old age pensions and drop the age limit to 62 for non property owners, oh and say sorry. There will always be the great divide, no one will ever rule for me but Alice and Jack will only marry once on election day 2007, that’s where I’m putting my money

Oh how do I wish I were a computer with the skills of Mr. Microsoft. Whenever I find myself in troubled waters as Paul (the Beatle not the prophet) would say, as when Messes. Media Player and Internet Explorer are finding themselves stressed and needing to close to have a nap, as I often do, mother System Restore comes to me speaking words of wisdom, and even better winding back the age of old Mrs. Computer to a less troubled time. Oh how many are the times I could have employed this skill to the wonderful benefit of all concerned. No sir these are not my drugs, you just go back to sleep whilst I reprogram myself to two weeks ago when aided by this foreknowledge I shall not undertake this path. I’m sure my ancient machine only labors on because I’ve wound its’ clock back so many times it thinks it’s five years younger.

Really if you are saying to yourself “oh if only I hadn’t done that” and you don’t know well, you haven’t, your future self did not you, for you are lurking back in time, as much as you like, with your buddy System Restore (we’re so close now he lets me call him Sy) who is always at home in “all programs”- “accessories”- “system tools” a mere four clicks to yesterday when you were young and innocent Halleluiah.

For those who missed it we managed another family day on Sunday photos of which follow. I’ll make no further comment as I’m reasonably assured that Gabby or Cathrine or who knows wants to provide the captions. Gabby will probably be too modest but the magnificent sculpture in water on weathered ply are hers as are many of these snaps.
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All the news thats fit to print

Had a call from Stephen yesterday and when I told him that I’d recently flown over and wondered “which was his shed?” in relation to the buildings collected at one end of the extremely long wharf. Eventually I had to admit that my fly over was only at the auspices of that respected international carrier, Google Earth, he resolved to leave a painted message on his roof stating something to the effect of COK accompanied by the date, for Google’s next satellite pass. Might loose him his job but that’s not much price for transient immortality, or fifteen minutes of fame is it. He sounds pretty happy with his five acres (I think he said) to scratch around, and is already generating some favorable comment. Although on the mainland he refers to it as the island owing to the fact that it is accessible only by sea or air though it’s not as isolated as Chris led us to believe, they do have satellite phone, internet and TV.

I went shopping with Alice at Bondi Junction yesterday sort of filling the role of girlfriend as she sought a pair of shoes to marry in. The first pair chosen were unavailable in her size, the second were available but only to someone with two left feet. The bewildered sales girl plead that nothing in her training had prepared her for this eventuality. The third, successfully acquired, came with the portentous name “marry” so something was working. Returning home we drove by Hugh and Betty’s place at Paddington to get her street number for mailing an invite and as we drove up Betty came out so we stopped. She had just returned from lunch with a girlfriend and found Hughie with a bloody head wound from a fall in the yard, bid us to go in and see him while she proceeded next door to see if the doctor neighbor was in. Hughie in bloodied pajamas in the living room was surprisingly compos, recognizing Alice and I without any prompting after such a long time. He had a wound at the back of his head which was congealing but seemed otherwise bright and well for one recovering from recent Pneumonia. Raising myself to full professional height and recollecting the full extent of my medical knowledge, learned at my mother’s knee, I held forth that a blow to the head that doesn’t bleed can be a worry, perhaps butter should be applied. A blow that bleeds is a great relief as long as bleeding subsides and it has. On reflection I do hope Betty got a second opinion.

Alice is pretty upset with John Howard, not just for the disruption caused to the plans of potential wedding guests caused by his tardy election timetable decision, but for the potential politicization of the wedding itself. He has certainly blown what little chance he ever had of her vote. Well who would want their wedding day to be remembered as the day John Howard, who’s Hooch like bottom lip will surely soon require a prosthetic dam to hold back the drool, won his what? Fifth election. Only in the fifth dimension surely. On the other hand it might lead to an interesting collaboration with David Williamson on the finale to his illustrious playwriting career called simply “Alice’s Wedding”. Mmmm.

Even if the other crowd win it’s difficult to think that all 250 guests will be apolitical enough not to be somewhat distracted by goings on in the tally room which owing to time differences and the importance of the WA vote will be hard at work till late evening or more.

Mention of WA provides a nice segway to note that we have received regrets from the nomads and Stephen that they will not be driving back for the event, and Kelly who’s marathon swimming prowess has suffered recently in direct proportion to her alcohol intake will be unable to attend. This led me to reflect that I missed the weddings of Dot, Chris, Hugh and Stephen only being in attendance at those of Nanette and John when I was too young too have a good personal excuse. So Alice it is I who owe you an apology for having set such a precedent. Luckily, I need have no other regrets - ehem!

Well what about that eh, some relevant possibly even useful news this week instead of the usual hypothetical drivel of scocio-political mores. Even less to be regretful of. Chuffed I’m sure.
R.

The Dreaded Pension

Having recently turned 65, I naievely assumed that our gracious government would be contacting me along the lines of, "Congratulations, Hugh, old boy, you've reached retirement age at last. After a lifetime of dutiful payment of tax, you are now entitled to your reward." Well, that was silly of me, wasn't it? So I decided to take the matter into my own hands.

Despite repidly approaching dinosaur status, I felt I am modern enough to apply online (!!) and duly found the appropriate site. I began filling in the required information until I found a question I couldn't answer withour further research. As I use the library's computer, this meant logging out and starting all over again. Nothing would let me move on to see if there were other questions that needed investigation, so that was that.

On my second attempt I did a lot better and eventually was given a reference number and informed that I had successfully applied and would receive the relevant papers in the mail soon. So much for the paperless society.

To my surprise, the papers did duly turn up. Now among other things, I had to prove I was born. So onto another website to apply for a birth certificate from the Victorian government. This meant more waiting, which is a concern, because the pension will be paid from the date of application (not one's actual birthday) BUT ONLY IF ALL THE PAPERWORK IS DONE AND PRESENTED WITHIN A FORTNIGHT. Fat chance.

Finally, I'd filled in everything, had all the relevant documents - passport, birth certificate, driver's licence, bank statement, etc - so now there was a phone no to ring for an appointment.

"Yes, Mr O'Keefe, your relevant Centrelink is at Darlinghurst, but there are no appointments available for three months - but that's not unusual." This last comment would surely not endear him to his employers? "However, you can have a walk-in appointment."

"Oh, what's that?"

"You just turn up and information will put you in the queue."

"That doesn't sound like an appointment to me." None the less, that's what I did, yesterday.

I got to Information after only ten minutes and explained I was applying for the Old Age Pension (oops, in these politically correct times, the Age Pension). He promptly gave me forms but I pointed out that I had already filled in the form.

"Oh, where did you get that?" he asked with some surprise. (A little fat ethnic quean with an infuriatingly soft voice and a granny shawl draped about him.)

"In the mail," I said, which seemed to confuse him somewhat. However, he told me to take a seat and someone would be with me shortly.

Forty minutes later (I'd brought a good book) a voice said "Mr O'Keefe?" and Phil took me to his work station. He was charming, helpful and apologetic, but that wasn't much help. I informed him I'd applied online and here was my application and supporting documents. "But you haven't filled in an application," he said. I found this somewhat confusing, but now that I had a real person at a real computer, I wasn't of a mind to argue. So he got me an application form. In the course of filling it in, I realised that this was all the stuff I'd entered on the online application. He said, "Well, it's safer to have it in writing." Again, I wasn't arguing.

Meanwhile, as I reapplied, he looked at the first form I'd filled in and said, "They've sent you the wrong form." Well, it didn't say Dole, it didn't say Job Seeker, it said Age Pension Application, but there you go. So he went off again to get the RIGHT FORM.

I don't know if any of you have spent time in Centrelink, but they do a great show. While all this was going on, a very short, very old, very irate Aboriginal woman stormed into the interview area demandingt money, using buckets of foul language, including frequent references to having sexual intercourse with one's female parent. No one but me seemed to find this unusual, so I stayed Mum. Also, when one of the other interviewers left her station to ask some question of my Phil, the two rather grubby applicants at her station went into a deep and serious pash session which wasn't abandoned until their interviewer returned. I'd rate the whole place MA.

So now, after an hour with Phil, we had abandoned the online original application and done a written one. We had also torn up the original written application and filled in the right one. Now to enter it into the computer - hah!

Would Mister Computer accept this stuff? No way. So a a phone call to the hot line, a ten minute wait, and eventually all was duly entered - I think.

But one last thing. I hadn't brought my Uiversity payslips (nowhere on any form, electronic or otherwise had these been asked for). So tomorrow (Phil doesn't do Thursdays)I turn up with these, march straight through the office (much like my indiginous sister, but more softly) and slip these on to Phil's desk. And wait to see what happens next.

Butterflies

Who said fight


Oh Hi there! There’s a fly in here and I’m waiting for it to come to rest, as they all do when exhausted, on my frosted patio window where they make a fine target for my rolled newspaper. Oh yes! I extract maximum value out of my papers. Its fearfully hot outside, and windy, one of those days were you’d not be surprised if the air itself caught fire, otherwise I’d have the balcony door open. I’m taking Alice to pick up her dress early this evening, after sundown I hope when at least I should be able to take continuous hold of the steering wheel even if the real air temp hasn’t fallen much. I have to admit, as I did to Alice at lunch today, that I’m beginning to have butterflies. Only five and four seventh weeks to go and now it seems John Howard thinks he can compete for top billing on the day. We’ll show him who can run the best Kirribilli show. Though on the off chance that he does retain tenancy, it’s just down the street and how could he deny us entree with our credentials. I’d be happy to schmoose John whilst one of Jacks rat pack chums, charms the keys to the cellar out of Janet. Just imagine what lays hidden therein (the cellar lads, mind on the job) and wasn’t it paid for by us. We could call up motorcades to take guests home with motorcycle outriders sirens and RTA green light access. No bugger that, let’s commandeer the harbour and get water police access all areas passes, choppers, fireworks, The Bridge. That’s it, as James Brown would have said “let’s take it to the bridge”

See there’s always a silver lining as reflected by Monty Python in “Always look on the bright side of life” or some Jamaican hic’s “Don’t worry be happy” though James Brown doesn’t seem to have made much of a contribution to this genre unless you want to count “It’s a man’s man’s man’s world” and by those groans I can tell you don’t. If you’ve read this far you can see I’m excited, some would say over excited. There is beginning to be a form. Alice, Gabby and I are to dress, depart and arrive together by HC with a bow from some local hostelry. I still need to make some finishing touches to my speech which I’ve only been working on for five months. I haven’t yet chosen who will deliver it. Is that my job? Oh well one day at a time I suppose. Oh and my dress is apparently still of some concern. I’ve poured enough oil on these waters to be regarded as a major polluter and still the question seems able to poke up.

I’m sure Alice won’t mind me telling you she’s pretty much made her mind up to become Alice Ellis, something traditional old farts like me took as granted. Apparently there is a trend to maintenance of original identity nowadays. Makes some sense if you’ve already made some fame out of a maiden name and want to capitalize on it but your not going to burden your children with schizophrenia at birth are you? Alice Ellis has a nice roll to it don’t you think? O’Keefe is mighty difficult to pare up with anything and not have to repeat it. Even Johnnie, which worked better than most, had to become JOK.
Yes I see I’ve mentioned children again, no I’m sure it’s not my subconscious, no there not christening presents, just stuff I picked up.
Later.
Robert

Family days are here again

Ohmigawd, Its Thursday night, the crest of the working week hill, not one of those free range weekend days. I came on line to pay rent and bills and to canvas interest in my family day, October 28 I note, seventeen days hence, three weekends away. Whew, no need to panic when you do the math. Then I found this blog from the nomads which I need to comment on, with addendum update on COK who I must call and reference to a video on Facebook which I go to look at leading me into a labyrinth I haven’t recently explored, and I still have to pay the bills. Oh how I envy those with nothing better to do than drive across sandy deserts to inhospitable towns being eaten by yet unclassified insects or others with all the time of day and nothing to do but apply for old age pensions.
Anyway Im thinking The Warren View, (everyone likes a view) right here in Enmore, the centre of the universe, lovely beer garden with ample Ti Tree for those inclined to crush there own oils, um no, where was I? Oh yes, anyone interested, I sort of need a bit of a head count. Dot and Strobe (um Glen) You can stay over, Mondays the best day to take off, I should know, I take them all off.

I just know that signing into the O'keefe blog is going to save me from Altimers, I have to concentrate so hard and when I make a mistake it's almost like solving a sudoku to get it right.

News from SOK

I called Stephen after he came back from his first two week stint as gardener of a peal farm at Kuri Bay. He has enjoyed it and is going back after his week off. His job involves maintaining and improving the gardens, landscaping the swimming pool that has just been installed, managing the rubbish disposal (what isn't mulched is crushed and taken back to Darwin)and helping out when planes arrive with supplies and whatever else comes up. He worked in shorts and T shirt for the first two weeks but as a result of being bitten by every imaginable insect he is getting some long sleeved shirts and trousers for the return. His arrival was interesting in that the sea plane lands and then you get into a tinnie to go to the jetty, but as the tide was out the boat could not get to the jetty so you jump into knee deep water and wade through the mud to shore, keeping in mind that the water is the home of crocodiles and irikanji stingers that can kill.He survived though and is really enjoying working with a group of 40 or so people, and was looking forward to returning. Give him a call or text and you might catch him on his week off. Bye, Chris & Sue

In the Land of the Sandgropers.

After picking up father’s day present (Bourbon flavored coffee from El Salvador & Chocolate Turkish delights from Turkey, all via London and closely inspected by Aus Customs for traces of foot & mouth) we headed off west to new lands for us. The next stop was at timber creek for the night, watched the croc feeding and left our Humpty Doo honey at the local school as you can’t take it into WA. Next day we crossed the WA/NT border and on to Kunnanurra. I covered the border crossing and Kunnanurra in the last blog.

After a week there we headed on west into the Kimberley. This was a big day as our destination was a free camp called Mary Pool, 570 klm. We traveled through beautiful rocky hills and more interesting scenery than the flat terrain of NT. (If you saw the video on face book, it was filmed here) Stopped at Turkey Creek for coffee and happened to park near a pest control man who was spraying the motel units for pests. Sue approached him and asked, “what was the best treatment for ants in the caravan?” and he ended up giving it a free fumigate for us. You should have seen the number of dead ants and other insects when we next stopped. We had lunch at Halls Creek and got to Mary Pool about 4pm. It was about 40 degrees there with a strong wind blowing so we were glad when dusk came and it cooled down a bit as we had no electricity to drive the fan there, but the night was ok. Next morning was a short run into Fitzroy Crossing and we were there by 10am. We stayed in a very nice van park there, lots of shade and grass and a big, cool pool. Fitzroy Crossing has been in the news a lot recently due to the problems in the aboriginal community with suicide, domestic violence and abuse resulting from alcohol and drug abuse. They have banned all alcohol sales there now except for low alcohol beer, for a 12 month trial period. It is really sad to see the problems created by alcohol and boredom in many of the WA towns.

From Fitzroy Crossing we went on to Derby where we spent 4 days. It was an interesting town with lots of history and galleries and museums to visit. It is famous for its big old boab trees some over 1000 years old, and its tides up to 11 meters rise and fall. The highlight of our visit there was a flight in a small plane (just Sue & I) over the Buccaneer Archipelago to see the “horizontal waterfall” which is caused by tide water rushing through two small gaps in the landscape. The tide rises and falls so fast that the water cannot escape through the gap so will be two or three meters higher on one side then the other (see the photos). You can go on a sea plane tour that lands and then takes you through the rushing water in a jet boat, but ours was a fly over only. The trip was spectacular though, seeing the Kimberley landscape and islands from the air as the sun was setting. We enjoyed Derby and caught up with some old friends of Dennis Wright. They have been living there for a few years so it was good to talk to some locals about their lifestyle.

Next town to visit was Broome as we had arranged for a new side for my glasses to be sent there from Sue’s Safilo connections. We were not able to stay in Broome as none of the six caravan parks there accept dogs. This is the only town in Australia that you cannot find a place to stay with pets. In fact next year it will be hard to stay there with a caravan as three of the six parks are closing this year for the developers to convert to holiday villas for the moneyed visitors to Broome. This year the six parks were full booked for the winter months. There are lots of building works and new road construction happening there, it is booming, but not caravan or dog friendly. We stayed three nights at the Roebuck Plains roadhouse & caravan park which is 34 klm from Broome and we traveled in each day until the mail arrived. Olly, Sue & I enjoyed a few swims at Cable Beach, we watched the “stair case to the moon”.

We stocked up on supplies for the 610klm trip south to Port Hedland, on which we planned to take our time visiting the beauty of the WA coast. However, we did not take into consideration that this road passes along the edge of the Great Sandy Desert with 40 degree winds pushing up the red dust that goes right down to the beach to meet the sand fly ridden mangroves. Not one of the most enjoyable sections of coast. To get from the highway to the coast you traverse 10 to 23 klm gravel roads (depending where you are going) of red bull dust. We stayed one night at Barn Hill station, which was hot & dusty but had nice open air bathrooms and a nice beach. Then two nights at Port Smith where the caravan park warns you to cover up from the sand flys, We did at dawn & dusk but still were attacked at any time of the day. We went for a drive following information provided by the caravan park only to be reprimanded by some of the local “brothers” for being on their land without a permit, when we stopped to ask directions. We departed the area with the feeling that they are welcome to it. Fortunately the caravan park at 80 mile beach does not allow dogs so we did not have to venture in there and headed on to “Sandfire” roadhouse (aptly named) for fuel, then Pardoo roadhouse (where we should have stayed as it had grass) and onto Port Headland, having taken four days to travel a section we hoped would take two or three weeks.

As we entered Port Hedland we saw the Port Headland Caravan Park opposite the airport, with its own pub and roadhouse, it looked to be very full with lots of permanents, but it took dogs. We went looking for another one that was listed in the NRMA guide but found it was closed down and as the other two had no dog signs it was back to the first one where we got one of the last sites, with a nice westerly view over the highway. I went to the roadhouse to see if they had the Weekend Australian yet (as it was Monday) and found the biggest selection of porn on open display, in a service station I have ever seen. It must be a lonely life for the truckers and mine workers that inhabit Port Hedland. We probably did not give Port Hedland a fair go as we left the next day, but what we saw of it looked just like a flat dusty mining port with a huge stockpile of salt and unending iron ore trains as its main tourist attractions. I watched a mine train go by the caravan park and even though the landscape was flat I could not see either end of the train, as far as the eye could see.

Next town was only 200klm down the road to Karratha to stay in a park recommended to us in Port Headland, but again it was fairly basic and packed with permanent mine workers etc. We looked in the tourist information booklet and saw there was a new caravan park at Point Samson nearby so I called them and booked in for the next day. Next morning we toured Karratha, Dampier and the Burrup peninsular where the huge North West Shelf gas project is situated. We had a look at the visitors centre there and the enormity of this project has to be seen to be believed. The coastal scenery is attractive with red and rocky hills contrasted against the tropical aqua color of the ocean. Again more salt stockpiles and long trains.

We arrived at the Cove Caravan Park, opened in June 2006, that afternoon and it has green grass, nice concrete sites, a view of the ocean and a nice cove to swim in at high tide. Point Samson is a small village with a pub and general store, two caravan parks, some nice tourist villas, a fishing port and some multi million dollar holiday homes. It has a big tidal sandy beach and while it has sand flys we have been able to avoid too many bites in the week we have stayed here. Olly is enjoying having a swim here again although he picked up another tick yesterday, but it caused no harm. We have visited Cossack and Roebourne , two small historic towns that were established by the first settlers in the late 1800s. Many of the original buildings are still standing as they were built of the red ironstone rocks that litter the landscape here. The early settlers certainly did it hard in this hot, dry cyclone prone environment and the aboriginal experiences of the times are interesting to say the least. Cossack was the old port and is now a ghost town except for the museum, gallery and café. Roebourne is still an operational town with the shire office, a mainly aboriginal population and the visitors centre/ museum located in the old goal which was used as goal from the late 1800s right up to the 1970s.

Well that has you up to date, we will go from here to Exmouth in the coming days and hopefully stay some time there and at Coral Bay, which we have been told is beautiful being adjacent to the Ningaloo reef. Hopefully no sand flys.

Love to all, Sue, Chris & Olly

200!

Not a lot to say, just thought I'd like to be Blogger 200, especially after that handsome photo of me in my finest with Robert and the always stylish Nona. 200 blogs, eh? Might just have to become an archivist and see what percentage are from the Family Philosopher, the Travelling Nomads (tautology?) and the Ever Sweller Kelly. They'd win, I'd say. Might have to pull my socks up.

Hugh

Pride cometh before a fall

Heading off to THE CITY yesterday of course I took care to look sharp, something like this


As lunchtime approached I decided on some pub grub – I much prefer the old, Counter lunch – but of course time marches on. I perused the menus of a number of establishments all touting pasta specials which sounded nourishing but out of consideration for my smart white tee shirt I declined this food type. Eventually I settled for a reasonably priced grilled steak at the courtyard of Australia square, placed my order and purchased a glass of red to accompany it. I found a table, spread my paper at the letters page and took my first cautionary sip only to be gripped by one of those involuntary choke spasms causing me to splutter red wine all over shirt and paper. Dam I should have had the pasta a fact that became even more obvious when the steak arrived over-cooked and accompanied by an unwanted and un-advertised pepper sauce. Dam

A day by the sunny seaside

Hi everyone, what's new?

I spent Saturday catching the last rays of sunshine (and drowning our sorrows after the Rugby) at Brighton Beach with the Snare boys from Goulburn. It was lovely... even though the pebbles weren't very comfy!

Check me out...

Love Kel xx

Bogongs rule OK

I’m becoming a bit of a gardener at least to the extent that watching, Gardening Australia with Peter Cundall, when I get home from work on Saturday evening, makes me so. I’m finding that watching others probing wet earth and worms, crawling about and pruning overgrown plants very relaxing at the weeks end. Touring large and beautiful Hunter Valley and Southern Highland estates that must require the dedication of two or more full time curators, without ever swatting at a fly or mozzie is also very satisfying. Add the shows half hour duration to this equation and you have what I call the perfect gardening experience.

The problem is that lulled by this pastoral and aided by couple of glasses of cardboard, it’s very difficult to stay awake till nine twenty for the wonderful Side Show or the equally delicious RocKwiz. Usually I must content myself with experiencing whichever is tuned in, as interruption or quasi direction to whatever dreams I may be having before finding enough consciousness, fueled by bladder pressure, to drag myself off the couch, via the bathroom, to bed. My Saturday Night Fever you might call it, has to be measured with a thermometer as there are no other observable signs, and even this will probably register a slight lowering of temperature.

At least I woke early today and in good form to vac up the bogongs. Haven’t those buggers provided us with some entertainment this year. Bunnings has done a roaring trade in fly mesh with folk desperate to keep them out. Good luck I tell them, those bogos will find a way in. My car is full of them. On Wednesday night when I started the engine to come home they swarmed about the cabin, which they had mistaken for a cave, until they calmed down. The next day I chanced to open the passenger door and a bunch of them enjoying the warmth and darkness of the door seal, quivered, drew their wings across their eyes and complained; “turn off the bloody light” Whilst I’m not one who, like some I know, can turn apoplectic in the presence of small strange fast moving insects, I don’t encourage them and there will be some who will say that the poisons I have commissioned to be spread throughout residences I have occupied places me firmly in the anti insect camp. However there is something strangely friendly about these soft furry fellows that makes me feel that if enough of them formed a large enough clump I might keep them as a pet. Is it only me? I guess so. Of course there is a dark side to this once important source of protein to mountain dwelling aborigines and that is that they now transport arsenic from Southern Queensland and South Australia where they spend their formative years (as miners no doubt, hence the arsenic) to the Snowy Mountains (or my car) where it leaches from their dead bodies into the pristine soil giving it a taste of the future when these mountains themselves will be turned into mines.

I went to THE CITY Ta! Ta! today partially to research lanes for Clover’s Mini Bar scheme and partly to find a wedding present for Alice. Unfortunately I found nothing good enough for Alice, see photo


And no lanes suitable for Clover though I did find a movie set lane which was so uninspiring, see lack of photo


(not a photo to be seen)


It wasn’t a waste of time though. I did find this handsome man made cave at 9 Clarence Street and so had the Bogongs, in their plentitude. Sorry about the shake, I over estimated the control I thought I would get from those two glasses of wine with lunch. These guys are thirty odd meters up, all trying to get through the cracks between the ceiling tiles to the, must be a cave, beyond. I wish I’d had a big bass drum or amplified guitar. Bogongs must be very sensitive to vibration I think, and sound can provide that. I’ll never forget when Alice and I were at The Eagles Nest, a venue at the top of the chair lift at Thredbo, for an eleven AM gig at the Blues Festival there. When Who’s Muddy Shoes, the band, struck their first chord, the whole room was filled with disturbed moths. Most of us could just keep our mouths shut and put our hands over our drinks but I did feel sorry for the singer.






This isn’t anything to do with Bogongs you’ll be relieved, It’s a corner of an exhibition room at the MCA


Here’s another corner.


The room had four corners, bet your sorry you missed it

These youngsters are just auditioning for the Opera (house)


Oh yes. You were there too Kell.

Some photos for Kelly

These photos are of the mountain near manila NSW where they do Para flying world championships. And a hill of rocks in Kunnanurra called "Kellys Knob" and one of my favorite sunset shots, also in Kunnanurra.

The Venue

This yacht, in despair over global warming, committed suicide by hanging at the pier opposite the venue, seen in the background, last Sunday. Hopefully they will have removed and buried the carcass by late November

Alice and Jack's lovingly tended garden

Mr. or Myth

Boy can’t that Robert get hissy. I wouldn’t want to make excuses for him but it’s probably his foot troubling him again.
Um, what’s that? You want to know how my foot is? Nice to know someone cares. Well it’s still sore but every other ache I ever had including thumbs and toes and especially that shoulder/neck which used to be a real bugger has vanished in the silver lining.
I’m hooked on Naprosyn for sure and it does make walking possible.
Yes, yes I’ve heard about the side effects, but you know we’re all going to die and with the way medicine’s going, all cluttered up with old farts, it looks as if the only choice we’ll have left is what drug procedure to die of.
What? What? Speak up! Not in front of the children? There old enough to be told a spades a spade, strictly in the gardening sense of course, though the perils of their having offspring has crossed my mind.
What’s a Grumpy old Bastard Gran? The one I heard you talking about on the phone to grand Uncle Hugh.
Yes in the unlikely event of the arrival of a new generation I think a censored version of the blog is a good call. An abridged version. Maybe someone could do a comic strip where I would be portrayed as the uncomplaining steadfast scary looking Griffin like character who stands guard of integrity at the gate. The ultimate protector of innocence. Mmm I like that.
What’s that? What about you? Create your own myth, you don’t want to turn out my creation do you? Or maybe you do Hmmm.

Went to Jack and Alice’s on Sunday to compile and collate nine and a half hours of music for your entertainment at the forth coming, no as time flies by make that third coming wedding. Amidst a tangle of cables, books, musical instruments, cups , emptys and an assortment of other paraphernalia which my troublesome short term memory cannot recall, where every footfall of our ten feet had to be carefully considered, we recorded a masterpiece of Bossa-Nova, easy listening, dance and get out of here music.

After that we retired to The Club to witness the second half of the weekends compelling evidence in favor of Clover’s bid to change liquor licensing laws to accommodate more Melbourne like small, intimate and pokie free bars. I suppose this theorem depends on the yet unknown fact of Gelong’s having small intimate bars also, you’d think licensing laws would be statewide. That’s not good enough for you is it, you want more research, dam, you know research is my weakness.

Whilst there I had ample opportunity to survey the potential of these event accommodations and am able to present the following well researched report. Upstairs an approximately thirty meter-square room separated by a concertina partition from the pokie bar, with which the members will have to content themselves, has a bar at one end and a ample glassed off balcony at the other. Happily management has resisted the urge to drape the place in spars, sails and rope. The only decorations being a collection of framed photos and a large bell which will certainly be rung, at least once by some yob, I hope it’s not me. This rather plain room with even plainer lighting, which Jack has plans to modify, is amply glossed by its views of park and harbor. Downstairs, easily accessed, an ample wharf provides another outdoor authentic harbor front entertainment area. Best of all I’m able to report a functional gents with an ample five man urinal where some member, with plumbing skills and an artists heart, has provided an elegant though probably wasteful pipe-work sculpture that delivers equal spray to all five positions at the pull of a string. Sorry girls I have nothing to report.

Devon and Cornwall

Hi everyone

Spent the weekend visiting Mart's parents. Had a lovely time seeing the sites of Devon and Cornwall - such a beautiful part of the UK. Here's some pics from the weekend...

Love Kel xxx