We have planted our first commercial crop - garlic. It is already
sprouting, despite the very cold weather.
The climate can be relied on to deliver enough moisture for now, but
irrigation is necessary to ensure optimal growth to maturity. We
will pump water up from a stream to a big tank and from there
gravity will send the precious fluid to a second tank and then to
the garlic. The water tanks were delivered this afternoon.
One of them is to be placed near the house and the other on a little
hill we call "The Knoll". There is a 170m made track to the desired
position on The Knoll, but it had become overgrown. Eve and I went
out yesterday afternoon to clear a path for the delivery truck and
discovered that it was very much more overgrown than I had realised.
Problem one: we have a good quality scrub cutter, but had only
previously used the nylon line for cutting grass. The instructions
for changing the whirly bit were very clear, but could we get the
blade for tougher undergrowth on? We must have spent about an hour
before Eve finally got all the components in the right order and
(the difficult bit) stopped the shaft turning so that the all
important nut could be properly tightened.
It worked very well for several seconds, but thereafter either
loosened itself or tightened up so much it wouldn't turn. So much
for labour saving technology.
So we attacked the broom with loppers, secateurs, a saw and a
hatchet. Plus a lot of muscle.
By the time it got dark we had done roughly half the job.
This morning we were back at it, heedless of the rain, and cleared
all the serious obstacles. We hoped that the stumps were cut down
low enough to do no damage. Wet and triumphant we hurled all our
work gear in the washing machine and settled down to lunch.
A morning phone call had advised that delivery would be between 3
and 4 in the afternoon. Lots of time. Did we drag all the big
branches out of the way? Um, no. So Bill rugged up against the
elements in his sailing oilskins and properly finished the job.
At 3:30 pm the delivery truck driver phoned to say he was at Kohatu
and would be with us in half an hour. We reminded him that he would
well advised to leave his trailer unit in the bottom paddock and
just bring the truck with our 2 tanks up the drive.
Problem 2: At about 4 o'clock there was a tap on the door. It was
the truck driver. His mighty machine was stuck in the paddock. Do
we have a 4WD to give him a tow? It would only need a little extra
to get him moving again. Yes, we do. This is what we bought the
'beast' for. 3 litres of Mitsubishi no-nonsense grunt. Did the
driver have a tow rope? Yes, he had plenty of straps. It was the
first time I had engaged '4WD Low'. In the beast's lowest gear I
set off and, hooray, the truck followed. A figure of eight course
put us in the right position to unhook the trailer and now we are in
business.
Problem 3: The truck driver was adamant that his steed would not go
along the Knoll track. It wasn't wide enough, and he was concerned
that it was a bit slippery, too. Tank 1 was unloaded at the start
of the track. We are promised that it is easy to drag to the other
end of the track.
Problem 4: The truck could not manage the steep corner below the
house. This time it was easy to tow up to the corner by the orchard
where Tank 2 is to do its duty. The first tank was fairly easy to
nudge over the side of the truck. The tanks are plastic and not
terribly heavy when empty. But our drive here is on a bit of a
slope. The driver and I wiggled the base of the tank over the side
of the truck, but the slope was too much for the chocks and we
couldn't stop the tank from rolling back over the end of the truck.
You probably have never seen a runaway water tank. It is very round
and rolls. It is also rather squashy and bounces. So Tank 2 rolled
and bounced with exuberant freedom down the hill. It just missed
Tank 1, and came to rest fair and square on the Knoll track, still
on its side. Nothing Dion's tractor and a team of strong men can't
fix.
The driver produced the paperwork and I signed for delivery. Well,
the tanks are on our land and not in the factory.
He reversed all the way down to the bottom, since our turning
options all include driving off the drive onto the grass. That's no
problem in dry weather but ....
Problem 5: Back in the paddock we had to re-hitch the trailer. I
don't think I'm very good at giving directions. Mind you, the
second attempt was a bullseye, but the locking mechanism didn't
work. After about 10 goes he tried a different angle - and got
stuck in the paddock's mud again. The beast to the rescue for the
third time. The driver then removed a metal bar from his tool kit
and did mysterious and noisy things around the towing mechanism. He
didn't swear, but you could see it was only by prodigious
self-control. Now he played his trump card. I would drive the
truck and he would give directions. The first attempt wasn't quite
there, but the second produced a clang that announced the trailer
was "on".
After that, it was all quite simple really. The truck pulled the
trailer back onto the drive without another tow. It was then
necessary to untie the 2 tanks on the trailer and roll them onto the
truck. Sorry, there were no more mishaps. All in all, I'm glad
that I didn't see another tank make a bid for freedom. From by our
gate it would probably have plunged into the river, which was quite
high enough to whisk it away, at least to the next bridge if not to
the sea.
The driver thanked me for my help, which was mighty generous of him,
and set off in the gloom of the cloudy evening to deliver his
remaining charges.
Now I have to phone Dion and ask when he and his tractor can come to
clean up the mess.
24 July 2012
29 July 2010
An unsolicited testimonial
I have been known to complain bitterly when I feel a business has provided me with less than wonderful treatment. So in fairness I should make as much noise when I have received excellent service.
I therefore commend to you an Internet purveyor of computer consumables; Computer Food. https://www.consumables.co.nz/default.asp Unfortunately this recommendation is only useful for New Zealand residents, but it is a good news story that others may wish to read.
I have now made 3 or 4 purchases from this company. Every order has been processed rapidly and accurately. Last week was quite unparalleled.
About 4pm on Friday I ordered two ink cartridges for the printer. Many businesses, if not most, would have sent a computer-generated acknowledgement and not actually involved any humans until the Monday at the earliest.
The computer-generated acknowledgement arrived as expected, followed shortly by a confirmation of despatch. On Saturday morning the cartridges arrived in the letter box. They had come from Pukekohe, an outlying township South of Auckland to distant Mapua, where mail deliveries are always an uncertain event. True they had been sent by courier, but remember that it was an inter-island delivery. Since Computer Food does not charge for freight this is astonishing. But not the first time I have enjoyed such speedy delivery.
Having left the order rather too late, I installed one of the cartridges almost immediately. Alas, it was a dud. I buy remanufactured cartridges. I don't think they last quite as long as the genuine Hewlett Packard variety, but they are a fraction of the price. So I installed the 2nd one and got on with my printing.
A Sunday email to Computer Food explained the sorry tale of the faulty goods and asked what the procedure was. I expected to have to mail the defective cartridge back and wait until it had been checked before a replacement would be sent. No, no. Early on Monday morning I was advised that a replacement was already on its way, together with a prepaid courier envelope for returning the dud.
Beat that for service!
So I heartily commend Computer Food to you. Visit them at https://www.consumables.co.nz/default.asp for ink, toner, paper, storage media, etc. I'm sure you won't be disappointed.
And their prices are wonderfully low, as well.
I therefore commend to you an Internet purveyor of computer consumables; Computer Food. https://www.consumables.co.nz/default.asp Unfortunately this recommendation is only useful for New Zealand residents, but it is a good news story that others may wish to read.
I have now made 3 or 4 purchases from this company. Every order has been processed rapidly and accurately. Last week was quite unparalleled.
About 4pm on Friday I ordered two ink cartridges for the printer. Many businesses, if not most, would have sent a computer-generated acknowledgement and not actually involved any humans until the Monday at the earliest.
The computer-generated acknowledgement arrived as expected, followed shortly by a confirmation of despatch. On Saturday morning the cartridges arrived in the letter box. They had come from Pukekohe, an outlying township South of Auckland to distant Mapua, where mail deliveries are always an uncertain event. True they had been sent by courier, but remember that it was an inter-island delivery. Since Computer Food does not charge for freight this is astonishing. But not the first time I have enjoyed such speedy delivery.
Having left the order rather too late, I installed one of the cartridges almost immediately. Alas, it was a dud. I buy remanufactured cartridges. I don't think they last quite as long as the genuine Hewlett Packard variety, but they are a fraction of the price. So I installed the 2nd one and got on with my printing.
A Sunday email to Computer Food explained the sorry tale of the faulty goods and asked what the procedure was. I expected to have to mail the defective cartridge back and wait until it had been checked before a replacement would be sent. No, no. Early on Monday morning I was advised that a replacement was already on its way, together with a prepaid courier envelope for returning the dud.
Beat that for service!
So I heartily commend Computer Food to you. Visit them at https://www.consumables.co.nz/default.asp for ink, toner, paper, storage media, etc. I'm sure you won't be disappointed.
And their prices are wonderfully low, as well.
31 December 2009
Bill and Eve's 2009
A little of Bill's recent history
Provoked by Janet Delaney, I joined an Internet dating agency last year and very quickly ‘met’ Evelyn Franklin. The 'smile' I received from her was one of the first ones to arrive for me, and a last effort for Eve before she was to quit the site. A very lucky overlap. We properly met on 6 December 2008 and really clicked. Getting to know each other was a bit tricky at first because Eve lived 400km away in Christchurch. The Practice Review Administrator who allocates work to the reviewers decided to play Cupid and allocated me a heap of work in the Garden City. To get it all done, Dad and I stayed with Eve for 6 weeks.
Bill Heritage Snr.
An unflattering picture of my father with a barn owl,
taken in Warwickshire this year.
This sits awkwardly with the rules on visitors. Dad decided to go back to England while Eve and I were in Australia (see below). The consultant cheerily said that Dad would get a 3-month visitor visa at the airport on his return and we would sort things out from there. All lies.
When Nigel telephoned to check whether Dad needed a return ticket or not, the story changed radically. He had to have a visa before he stepped on the 'plane. So bookings got cancelled and more forms were filled in. Yet another medical report was commissioned, although this one was thankfully briefer. At the end of it all Dad was permitted to re-enter NZ on a multiple-entry visitor visa. This allows him to spend 18 months of the next 3 years in NZ. But before you shout, “Hooray”, you must understand that no visit may last longer than 6 months. So some time before 12 June 2010 Dad must leave NZ for at least one night. Crazy.
Little Brother
A Place in the Country.
The deal was signed in November 2008. I committed to buying roughly half of an existing property, Golightly Farm, and that could not happen until ‘my’ piece of land had a separate legal title. This process moved very slowly. Surveyors crawled all over the place and rammed pegs in to the soil. Kate and Bob, the vendors, and I are quite happy with the boundary dividing Golightly Farm. Of course, it’s not as easy as that. The Southern boundary of the existing farm was established long ago by ‘pacing out’ and was never formally surveyed. This doesn’t affect the piece of land I am buying, but it has to go through various legal hoops. Kate and Bob agreed with the neighbour that the legal boundary shall follow the existing fence line, which is very sensible.
Hoop 1 is that all the other neighbours of Golightly Farm had to agree, too, even though they are quite unaffected. Those signatures were requested and then forgotten about. They eventually got remembered by the Land Registry. Without signed consents LINZ wrote and offered 3 weeks to object, which dragged the whole process out by nearly another month.
Hoop 2. Then there is the boundary along the road. There the fence is about half a metre on the Council’s side of the true line, which won’t worry anybody. In years gone by the farms along the road owned a bit more land and the old boundary is now the centre of the road. This was duly surveyed in the 1960s and the owners were properly compensated for the strip of land that was taken away. Only no-one has ever recorded that on the Land Register. According to the Register I was about to become the owner of a stretch of the Southbound carriageway. How much of a toll should I charge? No. It was all fixed by making a third parcel of Golightly Farm and transferring it to the council. But it took time to figure that out and put it into effect.
This jaunt, which lasted almost 3 months, was a major 2009 event for us. It separates more or less neatly into 5 sections. The account here is very abbreviated. If you are at all interested, more detailed accounts of some parts were posted on this blog in August, September and October. Some of them are more lavishly illustrated, too.
We drove a small Hyundai Getz (it getz you there eventually) mainly along the coast. The major attractions are the lovely bush in the Otway National Park and the ocean coast scenery itself, particularly around the 12 Apostles.
The weather was mainly showery, which the car's wipers feebly smeared about. We did do a couple of small bush walks and hiked around the pathways at the 12 Apostles and Loch Ard Gorge. Although it was only a 4-day jaunt, nature study got well under way with plenty of birds and some kangaroos seen.
Part 2: The Darwin to Adelaide
The discontinuity is an uneventful flight to the capital of the tropical north of Australia. From there we took a camper van and drove it about 10,700km in 7 weeks. The principal attractions along the way were:
Kakadu National Park for rock art and birdlife. There are two major rock art sites, Nourlangie and Ubirr. Both are accessible along sealed roads, have helpful interpretive panels and if you turn up at the right times and places a Park Ranger will deliver a free talk. The tourists get explanations of the art at a small child level. You have to prove yourself worthy to the aboriginal elders before the advanced interpretations will be provided. And one aspect of worthiness is that you won't tell anyone else who isn't worthy.
A comb-crested jacana
Typical black and red layers in Bungle-Bungles rock. The grey cylinder near the top is the nest of spinifex termites and the line trickling down the side is the termites' sheltered route to the more substantial food source at the bottom.
A young male splendid fairy-wren moulting into his breeding plumage. The black is almost all there. When the moult is complete virtually all the other feathers will be the brilliant blue that is speckling his neck and shoulders. A wild bird photographed in Alice Springs Desert Park.
Next on the itinerary was Uluru, formerly known as Ayers Rock. Both the local aboriginals and the park rangers ask that visitors do not climb the rock, but many still do. We stayed down at ground level, enjoyed a ranger talk and took lots of photos. By now we were getting used to distances in Australia and thought that Kings Canyon was close because it was only 300-odd kilometres away. We walked in the bed of the canyon, but preferred the helicopter flight to walking round the rim.
The Serbian Orthodox Church in Coober Pedy.
It is underground and the light at the back is all artificial.
Our last week in that camper van was a hectic charge round the more temperate latitudes of South Australia. We had two days in the Flinders Ranges based in the best of camp grounds in Hawker. We saw many emus around the place, including a couple of family groups, kangaroos and lizards. Our guide, Derek, was particularly knowledgeable about the complex geology of the ranges.
Further South we returned to verdant climes with real grass instead of spinifex and farms instead of huge stations. The most famous crop is grapes, and we paid homage to the Clare and Barossa Valleys while sampling their output.
Our last two nights in the van were spent on Kangaroo Island. It does indeed have many roos, one of which bounded out into the road in front of us. There was a definite bump, but the careless pedestrian vanished back into the bush, leaving only some fur on the road. The island is, however, more important for its population of koalas. The first we saw was actually in the camp ground. She was asleep, which koalas do for 20 hours per day, but her joey peered down at us with a vague but very cute expression on its face.
The island also boasted sealions (where the ranger takes you right onto the beach with the animals, which is even better), fur seals, echidnas and the only live wild snake (a long way away) we saw during the whole trip.
Part 3: Golden Oldies Hockey in Adelaide
After 7 weeks in a camper van the 4-star hotel in which the Hampshire Harlequins were based was quite a shock. But a very pleasant one. A good many of the team from the last festival in Argentina were there and old friends from other teams were numerous. Eve has never been a hockey player, but she understands the much more important objective of the week – partying! The games themselves were a mixed bunch, and interrupted on occasion by torrential showers. It was a moderate consolation that South Australia badly needed the water.
June of GO Nelsun enjoying a photo opportunity with Wendy of Hampshire Harlequins. Geography has little to do with Golden Oldies. I live near Nelson and sometimes umpire with June. Wendy was born in Guyana, which is not very close to Hampshire. The HH manager lives in Nigeria!
As well as playing, I did some umpiring duties. For one of these tduties hree umpires turned up when only two are required. “Will you play for us, instead?” asked the Privateers. “O.K.” Don't tell the other Harlequins, but it was my best game of the week.
Eve admired the colourful outfit worn at the opening event by Bella Whippy (nee Heritage but we have not established exactly how we are related) of the Fiji Invitational Veterans. Bella responded by presenting the outfit to Eve later in the week. Swapping shirts is common, but this was an exceptional gesture. Eve did give her Harlequins shirt in return and we have since purchased a greenstone pendant as a gift for Bella.
Part 4: Adelaide to Perth
Crossing the Nullarbor Plain is still a major journey. We decided to do it in comfort by train. Unfortunately, by the time we made our booking only single cabins in Gold Class were left. These were staggeringly expensive at more than A$1,500 each for a journey of two nights and a day. The cabins were not especially comfortable. Give me a camper van any day. The fare included meals, but not wine or the tours along the way that were endlessly advertised to us. Don't do it, is our advice. It is terrible value for money. Go Red Class and take sandwiches.
The plain itself was not a disappointment. Flat to the horizon in all directions for virtually the whole day. No wonder it includes the world's longest piece of dead straight rail track. There's plenty of scrub growing, but not many trees.
The Nullarbor Plain photographed when the train stopped in Cook.
This would be typical if there were fewer trees.
We fetched up in Perth at a respectable time in the morning and it was drizzling. The queue for taxis was a long one. Why haven't the taxi companies worked out when the trains come in? But we were in no hurry.
Part 5: The South West
Our final 3 weeks was to explore Western Australia to the south of Perth. Unfortunately we had arrived during school holidays and camper vans were hard to rent. By starting the tour a few days later than planned we managed to book a van at a reasonable rate from a small, independent firm in Rockingham run by a very nice couple.
In the meantime we explored Perth and environs by various means. By sea we went to Rottnest Island for a day trip. Downriver between Perth and Fremantle we were shown the mansions of the wealthy. Yawn. On Rottnest itself we had a brief guided walk and were introduced to the local relative of kangaroos, the quokka. They are nocturnal so they weren't very active, but they are cute. In the afternoon a boat with very powerful engines zoomed us over the waves and round the island. “We might see a whale.” We saw several. They were humpback whales migrating. We were also shown more fur seals, the remains of shipwrecks and various birds all in sunshine. Lovely.
A Rottnest quokka.
By car we toured some back roads to the East of the city in search of wildflowers. In Toodyay (pronounced 2-J) the motel had left a tree stump in the parking area. I reversed into it; the first damage I have inflicted on a vehicle in many years. Curses and very naughty words!
At last we we once more masters on our own destiny in a camper van. We looped North and then South-East and started finding many of the flowers that the state is famous for. Even Eve did not know the names for many of them, but we could tell the banksias and the everlastings at least. The booklet we were more or less following did not always lead us to great displays, but in this area the flowers had been earlier than usual and since they are wild, they cannot be guaranteed. Sometimes we would turn down a road almost at random and find the verges thick with flowers. One yellow flower was very common. In places meadows were carpeted by these plants but we never discovered its name. A typical answer to our question was, “Oh, I know the one you mean. It's a weed. I don't know what it's called.”
At Wave Rock we switched to geology and admired the delightful formation where eons of wind and water have gracefully eroded away a concave curve of rock. On the top rain water is still collected for a local reservoir. An information board explained that the larger puddles lasted long enough for frogs to breed. Sure enough, we saw tadpoles in one of the temporary ponds. If you are ever there, do not miss the souvenir shop. It has a particularly good range, including excellent wildflower T-shirts and memorable luggage labels.
Esperance is on the South Coast and famous for its white sand beaches. On some, the grains are of a particular size that squeaks when you walk on them. The boat tour round the bay was very informative, with sightings of dolphins, sealions, yet more fur seals, Cape Barren geese and sea eagles that soar to order. Well, they know the boat will throw them a fish if they take to the air. Yes, I did get a photo of it.
The coastal heaths provided a varied palette of flowers, mostly different from the inland species. One banksia had pale green flowers. The floral scenery was best in Cape Le Grand National Park. We toyed with the idea of camping there, but it was blowing a gale so we retreated to the comfort of the town.
A flower (hakea sp?) photographed in coastal heathland.
On a Saturday (why is it always a weekend?) my back went out. I hobbled until Monday morning and went in search of Esperance's sole chiropractor. He couldn't see me until after 5pm. So for two days Eve drove while I sprawled in the back of the van. It was probably illegal and dangerous, but relief from sitting was what my back craved. It improved, and in Albany we did find a chiropractor who speeded up the recovery and straightened out a less painful kink in Eve's spine, too.
We meandered westwards, enjoying flowers, coastal scenery and local produce until we arrived in the land of the tingle trees. The biggest are the red tingles, that have a singular propensity to lose the inside of their lower trunk to fungus attack and/or fire, leaving them standing on 3 or 4 splayed limbs with a hollow centre. The biggest easily have room for several people to stand inside. One monster was regularly photographed with a vehicle between its tripod-like supports, but that died and fell a few years ago.
In the valley of the giants is a tree-top walkway. The idea is that you can experience what it is like to be in the tops of these forest giants 40m above the ground. It is so realistic that the engineers even designed the walkway so that it sways in the wind, like the branch of a tree. Being acrophobic (scared of heights)I could really have done without the movement while I was coping with the elevation. But you truly do get a bird's eye view. I
n an unremarkable township called Walpole the guide book gave a strong boost to the boat trip round the inlet. The inlet is pleasant enough, but the real treat was the commentary of guide Gary Muir. He was a walking encyclopaedia of natural history and illustrated his lectures with whatever props were to hand. Thus we had an animated explanation of why almost all marsupial males have a bifurcated penis. To do this he employed a number of cuddly toys, a jumper lead, a length of rope, a yellow funnel and whatever else he could grab. We now have an excellent grasp of the latest theories of mammalian evolution. My sun hat became part of a hilarious description of Gondwanaland and why various groups of animals are found in certain places. Later we learned that Gary also holds the record for running the Bibbulmun Track. This is normally hiked in 6 weeks or so. He covered the 1,000km in only 17 days.
Pemberton was memorable for two reasons:
(1) We went to admire the Gloucester Tree, a huge karri that the brave can climb up using iron pegs hammered into the trunk as a sort of spiral staircase. Eve and I watched others make the perilous ascent and listened to parents hurriedly inventing rules to prevent their fearless children heading straight for the top. We did take advantage of two short bush walks through gloriously flower-laden forest, though. The bird life here was advertised as prolific. Surprisingly, it actually was. It was a fabulous birding location and we added 6 species to our list.
(2) We bought mescalin in the local supermarket. Well, that's what it said on the packet. Inside it was only lettuce. Someone in the marketing department cannot spell mesclun.
From Cape Leeuwin we started North on the last leg of our tour. Now our eyes were in, we began to spot more orchids in the undergrowth. The rocks here are limestone and contain many caves. We visited 3 of them. We also visited Margaret River, WA's premier wine region. We were getting proficient now at holding the tasting glass by the stem and sniffing genteely before sipping the wine being tasted. The reds were generally excellent, but we have to admit to some disappointment in the whites. NZ whites have the edge. What? Parochial? Us?
A spider orchid.
We saw some thrombolites along the way and arrived back in Perth with time to visit the splendid aquarium at Hillary's Boat Harbour and have a most enjoyable lunch with Raj and Liz, colleagues from my Hayes Knight Days.
With apologies for the many places, people and experiences that have been omitted, that was our year.
The events of 2009 were strongly influenced by some actions in late 2008, so various threads have to start there. The following account draws in part from a letter distributed by email in late March 2009. My apologies for the duplication, if you received that. This episode is going to a wider audience.
Eve Franklin.
The image of Eve that first got my attention.
Provoked by Janet Delaney, I joined an Internet dating agency last year and very quickly ‘met’ Evelyn Franklin. The 'smile' I received from her was one of the first ones to arrive for me, and a last effort for Eve before she was to quit the site. A very lucky overlap. We properly met on 6 December 2008 and really clicked. Getting to know each other was a bit tricky at first because Eve lived 400km away in Christchurch. The Practice Review Administrator who allocates work to the reviewers decided to play Cupid and allocated me a heap of work in the Garden City. To get it all done, Dad and I stayed with Eve for 6 weeks.
We both enjoyed the experience, so Eve quit her job in a call centre, which she disliked anyway, and came to live with me in Mapua in late June. She is still here and we still like each other, so it looks very likely that it will last.
Like me, Eve left a long-standing marriage. Since then she has been widowed, so our histories have a little in common, but not everything. We have very similar senses of humour and a good range of shared interests – like skipping across supermarket car parks while others decorously walk!
Eve used to have a gardening business, so the poor, neglected garden here is beginning to look like a regular, cared for, orderly and attractive plot. She counts five children; one that arrived in the normal way, three adopted and one foster daughter. She actively likes cooking, so I spend much less time in the kitchen than I used to.
Like me, Eve left a long-standing marriage. Since then she has been widowed, so our histories have a little in common, but not everything. We have very similar senses of humour and a good range of shared interests – like skipping across supermarket car parks while others decorously walk!
Eve used to have a gardening business, so the poor, neglected garden here is beginning to look like a regular, cared for, orderly and attractive plot. She counts five children; one that arrived in the normal way, three adopted and one foster daughter. She actively likes cooking, so I spend much less time in the kitchen than I used to.
Luckily Dad really likes Eve - if he were 10 years younger I might have a rival ;-) – and Eve really likes Dad, too. The poor, besotted lass thinks I am drop-dead gorgeous. This misapprehension surely cannot last? Of course there is no question that she is perfectly wonderful; that is simply the objective truth! But as long as our mutual infatuation continues we are enjoying every minute of it.
Bill Heritage Snr.
An unflattering picture of my father with a barn owl,
taken in Warwickshire this year.
Dad came out to spend some time in NZ in early December 2008. Since then he has settled down to read his way through Mapua’s little library and remind me to lavish a little care on the garden. Before Eve arrived we established a compost bin which Dad tended enthusiastically. No weed on the property was safe!
Dad has been enjoying the Kiwi life so much he decided to apply to stay permanently. Even with the help of an immigration consultant, the form-filling was significant. However, all the appropriate boxes got filled in, an extraordinarily detailed medical examination was performed, the application fee was levied and now the forms are lying ignored in a drawer somewhere. Citizens' elderly relatives are not a high priority for the Dept. of Internal Affairs. We have been told to expect a wait of 18 months before the application is dusted off and a decision considered.
This sits awkwardly with the rules on visitors. Dad decided to go back to England while Eve and I were in Australia (see below). The consultant cheerily said that Dad would get a 3-month visitor visa at the airport on his return and we would sort things out from there. All lies.
When Nigel telephoned to check whether Dad needed a return ticket or not, the story changed radically. He had to have a visa before he stepped on the 'plane. So bookings got cancelled and more forms were filled in. Yet another medical report was commissioned, although this one was thankfully briefer. At the end of it all Dad was permitted to re-enter NZ on a multiple-entry visitor visa. This allows him to spend 18 months of the next 3 years in NZ. But before you shout, “Hooray”, you must understand that no visit may last longer than 6 months. So some time before 12 June 2010 Dad must leave NZ for at least one night. Crazy.
Little Brother
Meanwhile, my brother Nigel is back in England. He was lumbered with selling our parents house in a very depressed market. Luckily he managed that with less drama than expected. He indulged a fancy to live in Dorset and rented a property in Shaftesbury, where he entertained Dad during his return to the UK.
He is also the major caretaker of Dad's newly cashed up wealth and Mum's estate. I am an executor, too, and getting signatures half way round the world during a postal strike made for more stress. However, that all seems to be done, the lawyers have been paid (ouch!) and Mum's half of the property should be enough to buy a rental property in Shaftesbury where Nigel can become the tenant while he settles into his new job with posh Sherborne School.
A Place in the Country.
When I moved to the Nelson Region I had the idea of finding a corner of an orchard somewhere and building an eco home on it. But Tasman District Council has strong views on farmers nibbling off pieces of land for development. I ended up buying 12 hectares (30 acres) of mostly hilly land in the Motueka River Valley. The locality is known as Woodstock, but it has no known connection with music festivals.
The view from Woodstock facing North taken close to the spot where we will build.
The deal was signed in November 2008. I committed to buying roughly half of an existing property, Golightly Farm, and that could not happen until ‘my’ piece of land had a separate legal title. This process moved very slowly. Surveyors crawled all over the place and rammed pegs in to the soil. Kate and Bob, the vendors, and I are quite happy with the boundary dividing Golightly Farm. Of course, it’s not as easy as that. The Southern boundary of the existing farm was established long ago by ‘pacing out’ and was never formally surveyed. This doesn’t affect the piece of land I am buying, but it has to go through various legal hoops. Kate and Bob agreed with the neighbour that the legal boundary shall follow the existing fence line, which is very sensible.
Hoop 1 is that all the other neighbours of Golightly Farm had to agree, too, even though they are quite unaffected. Those signatures were requested and then forgotten about. They eventually got remembered by the Land Registry. Without signed consents LINZ wrote and offered 3 weeks to object, which dragged the whole process out by nearly another month.
Hoop 2. Then there is the boundary along the road. There the fence is about half a metre on the Council’s side of the true line, which won’t worry anybody. In years gone by the farms along the road owned a bit more land and the old boundary is now the centre of the road. This was duly surveyed in the 1960s and the owners were properly compensated for the strip of land that was taken away. Only no-one has ever recorded that on the Land Register. According to the Register I was about to become the owner of a stretch of the Southbound carriageway. How much of a toll should I charge? No. It was all fixed by making a third parcel of Golightly Farm and transferring it to the council. But it took time to figure that out and put it into effect.
So the process was finally completed and I (via a company called Shnurg Limited) became the owner on 14 August 2009, more than 8 months after signing up to buy the land. And of course by then we were in Australia.
I recruited a company to design a house for the site. They were to get an agreed design and then run a tender process, help me choose a builder and supervise the construction. Because of delays in getting the title, Australian holidays and other hiccups, the tender did not get run until after Eve and I returned from Australia. The builders were given 3 weeks to get their quotes in, which apparently means 4 weeks. The quotes came in and, oh dear!, we have completely lost sight of the budget.
David and James, who run BQD, the design company, are really nice young guys but at this stage I came within an ace of firing them. The dollars were not even within cooee.
So the design had to be revised. Fresh figures have been supplied. They are still too high. So BQD is working on getting better rates from subcontractors and prices for alternative waste systems. The biolytic one that was recommended is no doubt the best but it sure ain't the cheapest. As this piece goes to press, as it were, we have a preferred builder, but no contract and no clear idea of when building will even start. Hopefully we will have a new home next year, but it won't be soon.
We do have a road from the highway to the building site. Unfortunately the local digger driver with an excellent reputation was too busy to take on the task. Multidig Services came with a recommendation but they have done a terrible job and much remedial work needs to be undertaken before they get paid.
The house and garden will not, of course, take up the full 12 hectares. Mind you, we aim to have a substantial kitchen garden and a house orchard where we can grow one or two trees of all the yummy fruits we are partial to.
About 2 hectares is fertile river flat on which we (meaning Eve) will grow berries. Final decisions are not yet made, but the front runners are raspberries and blueberries. The hilly bits will be given over to tree crops. Hazel nuts, walnuts, etc. Again, the final decisions are yet to be made. The very steepest slopes will be encouraged to revert to native bush so that we may enjoy the song of bellbirds and tuis, grey warblers and tomtits.
The property boasts populations of rabbits and hares. We aim to farm these sustainably to provide a succession of dinners. Other, less agreeable, wildlife includes stoats, possums and occasional wild pig. Regrettably, a trapping programme will be necessary.
David and James, who run BQD, the design company, are really nice young guys but at this stage I came within an ace of firing them. The dollars were not even within cooee.
So the design had to be revised. Fresh figures have been supplied. They are still too high. So BQD is working on getting better rates from subcontractors and prices for alternative waste systems. The biolytic one that was recommended is no doubt the best but it sure ain't the cheapest. As this piece goes to press, as it were, we have a preferred builder, but no contract and no clear idea of when building will even start. Hopefully we will have a new home next year, but it won't be soon.
We do have a road from the highway to the building site. Unfortunately the local digger driver with an excellent reputation was too busy to take on the task. Multidig Services came with a recommendation but they have done a terrible job and much remedial work needs to be undertaken before they get paid.
The house and garden will not, of course, take up the full 12 hectares. Mind you, we aim to have a substantial kitchen garden and a house orchard where we can grow one or two trees of all the yummy fruits we are partial to.
About 2 hectares is fertile river flat on which we (meaning Eve) will grow berries. Final decisions are not yet made, but the front runners are raspberries and blueberries. The hilly bits will be given over to tree crops. Hazel nuts, walnuts, etc. Again, the final decisions are yet to be made. The very steepest slopes will be encouraged to revert to native bush so that we may enjoy the song of bellbirds and tuis, grey warblers and tomtits.
The property boasts populations of rabbits and hares. We aim to farm these sustainably to provide a succession of dinners. Other, less agreeable, wildlife includes stoats, possums and occasional wild pig. Regrettably, a trapping programme will be necessary.
Australia
This jaunt, which lasted almost 3 months, was a major 2009 event for us. It separates more or less neatly into 5 sections. The account here is very abbreviated. If you are at all interested, more detailed accounts of some parts were posted on this blog in August, September and October. Some of them are more lavishly illustrated, too.
Part 1: Melbourne to Adelaide
We drove a small Hyundai Getz (it getz you there eventually) mainly along the coast. The major attractions are the lovely bush in the Otway National Park and the ocean coast scenery itself, particularly around the 12 Apostles.
The weather was mainly showery, which the car's wipers feebly smeared about. We did do a couple of small bush walks and hiked around the pathways at the 12 Apostles and Loch Ard Gorge. Although it was only a 4-day jaunt, nature study got well under way with plenty of birds and some kangaroos seen.
Don't go swiming in Loch Ard Gorge
Part 2: The Darwin to Adelaide
The discontinuity is an uneventful flight to the capital of the tropical north of Australia. From there we took a camper van and drove it about 10,700km in 7 weeks. The principal attractions along the way were:
Kakadu National Park for rock art and birdlife. There are two major rock art sites, Nourlangie and Ubirr. Both are accessible along sealed roads, have helpful interpretive panels and if you turn up at the right times and places a Park Ranger will deliver a free talk. The tourists get explanations of the art at a small child level. You have to prove yourself worthy to the aboriginal elders before the advanced interpretations will be provided. And one aspect of worthiness is that you won't tell anyone else who isn't worthy.
Kakadu is a large flood plain and the most noticeable birds are the waterfowl. The best place to see them is at Yellow Water. If you are ever there be sure to get up and take the dawn cruise when there is most activity. We saw and photographed jabiru storks, brolga cranes, herons, fish eagles, ducks, jacanas, kingfishers and many more. Wonderful. And the most colourful bird was land based – the rainbow bee-eater.
A comb-crested jacana
Of the unfeathered life it was the crocodiles that made the biggest impression. Estuarine crocs grow very big, can move upriver a long way from the sea and are very well equipped to chomp and eat humans. The rangers actively clear them out of tourist spots, but the only place you can swim in Kakadu and be truly certain that reptilian death does not lurk is the municipal swimming pool.
Of course there is Darwin itself, with an excellent museum and memorable fish and chips. From there the Stuart Highway crosses the continent to Port Augusta and Adelaide. We took side trips to Litchfield National Park and Edith Falls, both destinations with superb swimming holes that are probably safe. We did swim and nothing bigger than a mosquito bit us.
At Katherine we turned right and set off to Western Australia, where the border patrol is as severe as in NZ. Any produce, even of Aussie origin, is confiscated. We made for Broome with pauses in Kununurra and Geike Gorge. And every day in the tropics we could be sure of sunny, dry weather. What we learned of 'The Wet' did not appeal. It comes in the summer and it is therefore even hotter and very humid when it's not actually raining.
Broome was a disappointment. We do not understand why it is such a major tourist destination. There are too many people, prices are high and there really aren't many attractions. However, we did have two delightful sunset swims off Cable Beach. Mysteriously there are no crocodile warnings, although it is still in the tropics. Leaving the town we detoured to the bird observatory and found a piece of magic. We must go back and do the tours. One of them saw 80 species of birds in a day! Every evening there is a 'bird log' meeting when the day's sightings are recorded. And when I innocently reported seeing two white-bellied cuckoo-shrikes I got challenged! Apparently I saw immature black-faced cuckoo-shrikes. Oh dear.
From Broome we retraced our steps to Turkey Creek, where we joined a 2-day trip into the Bungle-Bungles. The access road is seriously challenging terrain. Even the tour company's big 4WD took 2 hours to cover the 53km to the Info Centre. The guide had some very sad tales of inadequately prepared vehicles attempting the track.
The Bungle-Bungles themselves are fascinating chunks of rock with black and red layers and deep, canyon-like rents that are only accessible on foot. Even though it was winter, the temperatures went well into the 40s so sunblock, hats and water-bottles were essential. We really appreciated the gorges where we could march in shade.
Of course there is Darwin itself, with an excellent museum and memorable fish and chips. From there the Stuart Highway crosses the continent to Port Augusta and Adelaide. We took side trips to Litchfield National Park and Edith Falls, both destinations with superb swimming holes that are probably safe. We did swim and nothing bigger than a mosquito bit us.
At Katherine we turned right and set off to Western Australia, where the border patrol is as severe as in NZ. Any produce, even of Aussie origin, is confiscated. We made for Broome with pauses in Kununurra and Geike Gorge. And every day in the tropics we could be sure of sunny, dry weather. What we learned of 'The Wet' did not appeal. It comes in the summer and it is therefore even hotter and very humid when it's not actually raining.
Broome was a disappointment. We do not understand why it is such a major tourist destination. There are too many people, prices are high and there really aren't many attractions. However, we did have two delightful sunset swims off Cable Beach. Mysteriously there are no crocodile warnings, although it is still in the tropics. Leaving the town we detoured to the bird observatory and found a piece of magic. We must go back and do the tours. One of them saw 80 species of birds in a day! Every evening there is a 'bird log' meeting when the day's sightings are recorded. And when I innocently reported seeing two white-bellied cuckoo-shrikes I got challenged! Apparently I saw immature black-faced cuckoo-shrikes. Oh dear.
From Broome we retraced our steps to Turkey Creek, where we joined a 2-day trip into the Bungle-Bungles. The access road is seriously challenging terrain. Even the tour company's big 4WD took 2 hours to cover the 53km to the Info Centre. The guide had some very sad tales of inadequately prepared vehicles attempting the track.
The Bungle-Bungles themselves are fascinating chunks of rock with black and red layers and deep, canyon-like rents that are only accessible on foot. Even though it was winter, the temperatures went well into the 40s so sunblock, hats and water-bottles were essential. We really appreciated the gorges where we could march in shade.
Typical black and red layers in Bungle-Bungles rock. The grey cylinder near the top is the nest of spinifex termites and the line trickling down the side is the termites' sheltered route to the more substantial food source at the bottom.
Back in the Northern Territory we visited Katherine Gorge, where our cheery guide spoke with the unmistakeable accent of South Auckland. We then resumed our southward journey on the Stuart Highway. We spent a night at Mataranka, where the map notes “Thermal Springs”. Well, they are certainly springs and the water is warm, but there's no geothermal heating going on. The groundwater is simply at bath temperature. So we swam in the springs, which are in delightful bush, and spent the night in the adjacent camp ground. There were peacocks and wallabies looking for handouts and some spilled muesli was cleared up in no time by a noisy squad of apostle birds. But the dominant wildlife was the colony of red-headed flying foxes (fruit bats) in the trees near the springs. There are hundreds of thousands of them and at dusk they spiralled up from their roosts like smoke before setting off towards a distant food source. This performance lasted 15-20 minutes, but it was too dark to photograph.
They say that to call yourself a local in Alice Springs you have to see the Todd River flow three times. Expect to wait 20 years to achieve this. Nevertheless Alice Springs hosts a regatta every year, “Henley on Todd”, where the contestants have bottomless skiffs and carry them along the dry river bed.
We were a little too early for the regatta but the Alice Springs Desert Park is open all the year round. It is a splendid place. We started early with a bird walkabout. An expert guide helped to identify the species we saw. They included a very rare grey honeyeater, which we would never have been able to determine by ourselves. Throughout the day there were talks on various aspects of plant and animal life in the desert as well as numerous aviaries, a nocturnal house and reptile exhibits.
They say that to call yourself a local in Alice Springs you have to see the Todd River flow three times. Expect to wait 20 years to achieve this. Nevertheless Alice Springs hosts a regatta every year, “Henley on Todd”, where the contestants have bottomless skiffs and carry them along the dry river bed.
We were a little too early for the regatta but the Alice Springs Desert Park is open all the year round. It is a splendid place. We started early with a bird walkabout. An expert guide helped to identify the species we saw. They included a very rare grey honeyeater, which we would never have been able to determine by ourselves. Throughout the day there were talks on various aspects of plant and animal life in the desert as well as numerous aviaries, a nocturnal house and reptile exhibits.
A young male splendid fairy-wren moulting into his breeding plumage. The black is almost all there. When the moult is complete virtually all the other feathers will be the brilliant blue that is speckling his neck and shoulders. A wild bird photographed in Alice Springs Desert Park.
Next on the itinerary was Uluru, formerly known as Ayers Rock. Both the local aboriginals and the park rangers ask that visitors do not climb the rock, but many still do. We stayed down at ground level, enjoyed a ranger talk and took lots of photos. By now we were getting used to distances in Australia and thought that Kings Canyon was close because it was only 300-odd kilometres away. We walked in the bed of the canyon, but preferred the helicopter flight to walking round the rim.
Coober Pedy is the opal capital of the world. It is also located in one of the most desolate and unlovely landscapes that we have come across. The thousands of conical spoil heaps do not enhance the scenery. However, the town has many points of interest. About half its buildings are under ground to escape the extreme summer heat.
The Serbian Orthodox Church in Coober Pedy.
It is underground and the light at the back is all artificial.
Our last week in that camper van was a hectic charge round the more temperate latitudes of South Australia. We had two days in the Flinders Ranges based in the best of camp grounds in Hawker. We saw many emus around the place, including a couple of family groups, kangaroos and lizards. Our guide, Derek, was particularly knowledgeable about the complex geology of the ranges.
Further South we returned to verdant climes with real grass instead of spinifex and farms instead of huge stations. The most famous crop is grapes, and we paid homage to the Clare and Barossa Valleys while sampling their output.
Our last two nights in the van were spent on Kangaroo Island. It does indeed have many roos, one of which bounded out into the road in front of us. There was a definite bump, but the careless pedestrian vanished back into the bush, leaving only some fur on the road. The island is, however, more important for its population of koalas. The first we saw was actually in the camp ground. She was asleep, which koalas do for 20 hours per day, but her joey peered down at us with a vague but very cute expression on its face.
The island also boasted sealions (where the ranger takes you right onto the beach with the animals, which is even better), fur seals, echidnas and the only live wild snake (a long way away) we saw during the whole trip.
Part 3: Golden Oldies Hockey in Adelaide
After 7 weeks in a camper van the 4-star hotel in which the Hampshire Harlequins were based was quite a shock. But a very pleasant one. A good many of the team from the last festival in Argentina were there and old friends from other teams were numerous. Eve has never been a hockey player, but she understands the much more important objective of the week – partying! The games themselves were a mixed bunch, and interrupted on occasion by torrential showers. It was a moderate consolation that South Australia badly needed the water.
June of GO Nelsun enjoying a photo opportunity with Wendy of Hampshire Harlequins. Geography has little to do with Golden Oldies. I live near Nelson and sometimes umpire with June. Wendy was born in Guyana, which is not very close to Hampshire. The HH manager lives in Nigeria!
As well as playing, I did some umpiring duties. For one of these tduties hree umpires turned up when only two are required. “Will you play for us, instead?” asked the Privateers. “O.K.” Don't tell the other Harlequins, but it was my best game of the week.
Eve admired the colourful outfit worn at the opening event by Bella Whippy (nee Heritage but we have not established exactly how we are related) of the Fiji Invitational Veterans. Bella responded by presenting the outfit to Eve later in the week. Swapping shirts is common, but this was an exceptional gesture. Eve did give her Harlequins shirt in return and we have since purchased a greenstone pendant as a gift for Bella.
Part 4: Adelaide to Perth
Crossing the Nullarbor Plain is still a major journey. We decided to do it in comfort by train. Unfortunately, by the time we made our booking only single cabins in Gold Class were left. These were staggeringly expensive at more than A$1,500 each for a journey of two nights and a day. The cabins were not especially comfortable. Give me a camper van any day. The fare included meals, but not wine or the tours along the way that were endlessly advertised to us. Don't do it, is our advice. It is terrible value for money. Go Red Class and take sandwiches.
The plain itself was not a disappointment. Flat to the horizon in all directions for virtually the whole day. No wonder it includes the world's longest piece of dead straight rail track. There's plenty of scrub growing, but not many trees.
The Nullarbor Plain photographed when the train stopped in Cook.
This would be typical if there were fewer trees.
We fetched up in Perth at a respectable time in the morning and it was drizzling. The queue for taxis was a long one. Why haven't the taxi companies worked out when the trains come in? But we were in no hurry.
Part 5: The South West
Our final 3 weeks was to explore Western Australia to the south of Perth. Unfortunately we had arrived during school holidays and camper vans were hard to rent. By starting the tour a few days later than planned we managed to book a van at a reasonable rate from a small, independent firm in Rockingham run by a very nice couple.
In the meantime we explored Perth and environs by various means. By sea we went to Rottnest Island for a day trip. Downriver between Perth and Fremantle we were shown the mansions of the wealthy. Yawn. On Rottnest itself we had a brief guided walk and were introduced to the local relative of kangaroos, the quokka. They are nocturnal so they weren't very active, but they are cute. In the afternoon a boat with very powerful engines zoomed us over the waves and round the island. “We might see a whale.” We saw several. They were humpback whales migrating. We were also shown more fur seals, the remains of shipwrecks and various birds all in sunshine. Lovely.
A Rottnest quokka.
By car we toured some back roads to the East of the city in search of wildflowers. In Toodyay (pronounced 2-J) the motel had left a tree stump in the parking area. I reversed into it; the first damage I have inflicted on a vehicle in many years. Curses and very naughty words!
At last we we once more masters on our own destiny in a camper van. We looped North and then South-East and started finding many of the flowers that the state is famous for. Even Eve did not know the names for many of them, but we could tell the banksias and the everlastings at least. The booklet we were more or less following did not always lead us to great displays, but in this area the flowers had been earlier than usual and since they are wild, they cannot be guaranteed. Sometimes we would turn down a road almost at random and find the verges thick with flowers. One yellow flower was very common. In places meadows were carpeted by these plants but we never discovered its name. A typical answer to our question was, “Oh, I know the one you mean. It's a weed. I don't know what it's called.”
At Wave Rock we switched to geology and admired the delightful formation where eons of wind and water have gracefully eroded away a concave curve of rock. On the top rain water is still collected for a local reservoir. An information board explained that the larger puddles lasted long enough for frogs to breed. Sure enough, we saw tadpoles in one of the temporary ponds. If you are ever there, do not miss the souvenir shop. It has a particularly good range, including excellent wildflower T-shirts and memorable luggage labels.
Esperance is on the South Coast and famous for its white sand beaches. On some, the grains are of a particular size that squeaks when you walk on them. The boat tour round the bay was very informative, with sightings of dolphins, sealions, yet more fur seals, Cape Barren geese and sea eagles that soar to order. Well, they know the boat will throw them a fish if they take to the air. Yes, I did get a photo of it.
The coastal heaths provided a varied palette of flowers, mostly different from the inland species. One banksia had pale green flowers. The floral scenery was best in Cape Le Grand National Park. We toyed with the idea of camping there, but it was blowing a gale so we retreated to the comfort of the town.
A flower (hakea sp?) photographed in coastal heathland.
On a Saturday (why is it always a weekend?) my back went out. I hobbled until Monday morning and went in search of Esperance's sole chiropractor. He couldn't see me until after 5pm. So for two days Eve drove while I sprawled in the back of the van. It was probably illegal and dangerous, but relief from sitting was what my back craved. It improved, and in Albany we did find a chiropractor who speeded up the recovery and straightened out a less painful kink in Eve's spine, too.
We meandered westwards, enjoying flowers, coastal scenery and local produce until we arrived in the land of the tingle trees. The biggest are the red tingles, that have a singular propensity to lose the inside of their lower trunk to fungus attack and/or fire, leaving them standing on 3 or 4 splayed limbs with a hollow centre. The biggest easily have room for several people to stand inside. One monster was regularly photographed with a vehicle between its tripod-like supports, but that died and fell a few years ago.
In the valley of the giants is a tree-top walkway. The idea is that you can experience what it is like to be in the tops of these forest giants 40m above the ground. It is so realistic that the engineers even designed the walkway so that it sways in the wind, like the branch of a tree. Being acrophobic (scared of heights)I could really have done without the movement while I was coping with the elevation. But you truly do get a bird's eye view. I
n an unremarkable township called Walpole the guide book gave a strong boost to the boat trip round the inlet. The inlet is pleasant enough, but the real treat was the commentary of guide Gary Muir. He was a walking encyclopaedia of natural history and illustrated his lectures with whatever props were to hand. Thus we had an animated explanation of why almost all marsupial males have a bifurcated penis. To do this he employed a number of cuddly toys, a jumper lead, a length of rope, a yellow funnel and whatever else he could grab. We now have an excellent grasp of the latest theories of mammalian evolution. My sun hat became part of a hilarious description of Gondwanaland and why various groups of animals are found in certain places. Later we learned that Gary also holds the record for running the Bibbulmun Track. This is normally hiked in 6 weeks or so. He covered the 1,000km in only 17 days.
Pemberton was memorable for two reasons:
(1) We went to admire the Gloucester Tree, a huge karri that the brave can climb up using iron pegs hammered into the trunk as a sort of spiral staircase. Eve and I watched others make the perilous ascent and listened to parents hurriedly inventing rules to prevent their fearless children heading straight for the top. We did take advantage of two short bush walks through gloriously flower-laden forest, though. The bird life here was advertised as prolific. Surprisingly, it actually was. It was a fabulous birding location and we added 6 species to our list.
(2) We bought mescalin in the local supermarket. Well, that's what it said on the packet. Inside it was only lettuce. Someone in the marketing department cannot spell mesclun.
A ringneck parrot near the Gloucester Tree.
From Cape Leeuwin we started North on the last leg of our tour. Now our eyes were in, we began to spot more orchids in the undergrowth. The rocks here are limestone and contain many caves. We visited 3 of them. We also visited Margaret River, WA's premier wine region. We were getting proficient now at holding the tasting glass by the stem and sniffing genteely before sipping the wine being tasted. The reds were generally excellent, but we have to admit to some disappointment in the whites. NZ whites have the edge. What? Parochial? Us?
A spider orchid.
We saw some thrombolites along the way and arrived back in Perth with time to visit the splendid aquarium at Hillary's Boat Harbour and have a most enjoyable lunch with Raj and Liz, colleagues from my Hayes Knight Days.
With apologies for the many places, people and experiences that have been omitted, that was our year.
24 November 2009
How I won the cross country cup
I wasn't the fastest sprinter in my year at school. That title was the undisputed property of Hobart. I think his first name was Mick or Micky, but in the 1960s in England schoolmasters addressed the boys by their surnames and, for the most part, that was what we used between ourselves.
Hobart was a very tall boy for whom the adjective “gangling” could have been especially invented. For most of the time he gangled amiably about the school. But on the athletics track he stood out, both for pace and style. I have never seen anyone else run like Hobart; elbows haphazardly windmilling in all directions and hands flapping. My hands have to be either bunched in a fist or fingers straight out as if to deliver a karate blow. I have tried running with relaxed wrists and I just can't do it. But the Hobart head was still on his shoulders, eyes fixed on the finishing line as his long legs powered forwards.
In the cohort of 120 boys I wasn't second to Hobart or even third, but I was distinctly ahead of the bunch.
However, in the school athletics records, if they still exist, the name Heritage B.D.R. will be found not under sprinting but in the 4th Form cross-country section. This is quite remarkable because I was as hopeless a distance runner as I was good over 100 yards. I would start out at the front but after 200 yards I would be lagging and after 300 left behind with the other no-hopers.
The school cross-country course started in a nearby park. We had to run across a downward sloping sward, cross two bridges and then follow an anti-clockwise loop before re-crossing the canal bridge. Properly the course then involved splashing through the River Colne, which was quite shallow enough for the manoeuvre, but since Authority was not watching we trudgers at the back of the field kept our feet dry before climbing the slope to the park gates. One afternoon Rowe chose to see what running through the river was like, tripped and fell full length into the water. He was wearing white gym kit, which, when wet, clung to the body and became almost transparent. Rowe, always an exhibitionist, jogged back to school dripping and wearing a delighted smile.
Certain naughty boys, and here I am thinking of Fantes, Hicks and Scott, ran to the start of the loop and then sat in the bushes to wait. Their signal that it was time to reappear and go back to school was Heritage and the other back-markers sweating their way back across the bridges. Relaxed and fresh, Fantes & Co would run past me asking why I did not do the same.
The loop part of the course threaded its way along paths through uneven, scrubby woodland where someone had cleared enough trees to lay out a golf course. Fantes et al would sometimes occupy their unofficial leisure watching the infrequent midweek golfers. One unusual hole required a chip from the tee onto a green hidden at the bottom of a deep gully and invisible to the golfer. It was here that Hicks once took advantage of the peculiar terrain to gather up a pair's balls and put them both in the cup without being seen. He reported that the unmerited holes-in-one generated a lot of surprise but suspicion rather than elation.
It was Scott who told me that I was in the house cross-country team. “I was in the team and you were reserve but I've told them I've got a bad leg so you're running.” I didn't even know there was an inter-house competition coming up, but the notice board confirmed the news, with Scott's name already crossed out and a line through “Reserve” next to mine.
I never thought to ask how the team was selected. It must have been a mistake. However, I was far too honest to invent an injury like the mendacious Scott so I turned up at the starting line. Of the others who normally kept me company each week only Lawley had also been drafted into the big race. We looked glumly at each other in the certain knowledge that humiliation awaited us.
It was fully as awful as we expected. The rest of the field was already out of sight when we got to the first bridge. Round the loop we went, winter-frosted leaves crunching under our feet. In view of the seriousness of the occasion we determinedly refused to slow to a walk, although our jogging was a shuffle barely faster than the golfers striding up the fairways.
To make the time pass we discussed a recent physics practical, made almost farcical by equipment apparently purchased when the school was founded 400 years previously. Double, one of the brainy boys, had nevertheless managed to obtain a perfect graph. Kirkness, another brain, had actually obtained results that were quite impossible and the extrovert Dayman had broken his antique spring. Hattersley had been so bewildered that he had gone round the class asking to copy other boys' work
Shoulder to shoulder Lawley and I struggled on. Special occasion or not, we declined to get shoes full of Colne water so we used the bridge and set ourselves towards the finishing line. As we toiled up a slope that seemed to have grown steeper during the afternoon we became aware of a knot of figures at the finish. Normally boys who had completed their run went straight back to school to shower and change. Today the rest of the field was waiting and, we dimly perceived, they were shouting at us.
The words were indistinct but I suspected abuse.
Perfectly in step the last two runners puffed towards the line. With about 100 yards to go I asked, “Shall we race?” Let the record show that I waited until Lawley answered, “Yes” before I started to accelerate. It was a slow motion dash accompanied by what I could now determine were yells of encouragement.
Whatever my incompetence as a distance runner, there were few could out-sprint me in a fair contest and we were both equally exhausted. Not that it was easy. Lawley was right on my shoulder as we crossed the line and almost fell into an excited throng around a master holding a clipboard.
For a few marvellous moments I was a hero. Our houses had been tied for first place until we arrived and the fact that I crossed the line ahead of Lawley, no matter how narrowly, had secured the title for Travellers House.
Hobart was a very tall boy for whom the adjective “gangling” could have been especially invented. For most of the time he gangled amiably about the school. But on the athletics track he stood out, both for pace and style. I have never seen anyone else run like Hobart; elbows haphazardly windmilling in all directions and hands flapping. My hands have to be either bunched in a fist or fingers straight out as if to deliver a karate blow. I have tried running with relaxed wrists and I just can't do it. But the Hobart head was still on his shoulders, eyes fixed on the finishing line as his long legs powered forwards.
In the cohort of 120 boys I wasn't second to Hobart or even third, but I was distinctly ahead of the bunch.
However, in the school athletics records, if they still exist, the name Heritage B.D.R. will be found not under sprinting but in the 4th Form cross-country section. This is quite remarkable because I was as hopeless a distance runner as I was good over 100 yards. I would start out at the front but after 200 yards I would be lagging and after 300 left behind with the other no-hopers.
The school cross-country course started in a nearby park. We had to run across a downward sloping sward, cross two bridges and then follow an anti-clockwise loop before re-crossing the canal bridge. Properly the course then involved splashing through the River Colne, which was quite shallow enough for the manoeuvre, but since Authority was not watching we trudgers at the back of the field kept our feet dry before climbing the slope to the park gates. One afternoon Rowe chose to see what running through the river was like, tripped and fell full length into the water. He was wearing white gym kit, which, when wet, clung to the body and became almost transparent. Rowe, always an exhibitionist, jogged back to school dripping and wearing a delighted smile.
Certain naughty boys, and here I am thinking of Fantes, Hicks and Scott, ran to the start of the loop and then sat in the bushes to wait. Their signal that it was time to reappear and go back to school was Heritage and the other back-markers sweating their way back across the bridges. Relaxed and fresh, Fantes & Co would run past me asking why I did not do the same.
The loop part of the course threaded its way along paths through uneven, scrubby woodland where someone had cleared enough trees to lay out a golf course. Fantes et al would sometimes occupy their unofficial leisure watching the infrequent midweek golfers. One unusual hole required a chip from the tee onto a green hidden at the bottom of a deep gully and invisible to the golfer. It was here that Hicks once took advantage of the peculiar terrain to gather up a pair's balls and put them both in the cup without being seen. He reported that the unmerited holes-in-one generated a lot of surprise but suspicion rather than elation.
It was Scott who told me that I was in the house cross-country team. “I was in the team and you were reserve but I've told them I've got a bad leg so you're running.” I didn't even know there was an inter-house competition coming up, but the notice board confirmed the news, with Scott's name already crossed out and a line through “Reserve” next to mine.
I never thought to ask how the team was selected. It must have been a mistake. However, I was far too honest to invent an injury like the mendacious Scott so I turned up at the starting line. Of the others who normally kept me company each week only Lawley had also been drafted into the big race. We looked glumly at each other in the certain knowledge that humiliation awaited us.
It was fully as awful as we expected. The rest of the field was already out of sight when we got to the first bridge. Round the loop we went, winter-frosted leaves crunching under our feet. In view of the seriousness of the occasion we determinedly refused to slow to a walk, although our jogging was a shuffle barely faster than the golfers striding up the fairways.
To make the time pass we discussed a recent physics practical, made almost farcical by equipment apparently purchased when the school was founded 400 years previously. Double, one of the brainy boys, had nevertheless managed to obtain a perfect graph. Kirkness, another brain, had actually obtained results that were quite impossible and the extrovert Dayman had broken his antique spring. Hattersley had been so bewildered that he had gone round the class asking to copy other boys' work
Shoulder to shoulder Lawley and I struggled on. Special occasion or not, we declined to get shoes full of Colne water so we used the bridge and set ourselves towards the finishing line. As we toiled up a slope that seemed to have grown steeper during the afternoon we became aware of a knot of figures at the finish. Normally boys who had completed their run went straight back to school to shower and change. Today the rest of the field was waiting and, we dimly perceived, they were shouting at us.
The words were indistinct but I suspected abuse.
Perfectly in step the last two runners puffed towards the line. With about 100 yards to go I asked, “Shall we race?” Let the record show that I waited until Lawley answered, “Yes” before I started to accelerate. It was a slow motion dash accompanied by what I could now determine were yells of encouragement.
Whatever my incompetence as a distance runner, there were few could out-sprint me in a fair contest and we were both equally exhausted. Not that it was easy. Lawley was right on my shoulder as we crossed the line and almost fell into an excited throng around a master holding a clipboard.
For a few marvellous moments I was a hero. Our houses had been tied for first place until we arrived and the fact that I crossed the line ahead of Lawley, no matter how narrowly, had secured the title for Travellers House.
06 November 2009
Aussie spelling
We purchased this in the Pemberton, Western Australia supermarket. Despite the labelling, all it contained was lettuce!
If you are unsure of the significance, check the encyclopedia. Note for sticklers, the Oxford dictionary and some others allow that the final 'e' is optional.
And if you are still bemused, click here for the correct spelling.
If you are unsure of the significance, check the encyclopedia. Note for sticklers, the Oxford dictionary and some others allow that the final 'e' is optional.
And if you are still bemused, click here for the correct spelling.
15 October 2009
Rottnest Island
This is jumping a long way ahead from Kangaroo Is. Never mind.
We visited Rottnest on a day trip from Perth. As day trips go it was pretty good.
Stage One was the ferry. From Perth it made its way down the Swan River. We were given a commentary on various features of the river, with an emphasis on the mansions of those that mining has made into billionaires.
The vessel paused to take on more passengers at the mouth of the river in Fremantle. We were not all tourists; the ferry takes plenty of folk who, to judge from their clothing and luggage, were travelling on business.
In beautiful sunshine we sped across the waves to Rottnest. It really was a perfect day for it. The name comes from the Dutch for 'Rat's Nest'. The navigator who gave the monicker saw many "rats as big as cats" through his telescope and didn't land. What he actually saw were quokkas; marsupials built along the same general lines as a kangaroo, but much smaller and with a quite different head shape. Since they are nocturnal I had little hope that we would see any.
The ferry company offers a range of options. We had selected the optional short walking tour, a cafe lunch and a seaborne 'eco-tour'.
The walking tour - it was really an amble - gave us some history of the island and then the guide said she would try and find us a quokka. Of course, she knew where they slumbered through daylight and we saw dozens of them. The approach of a party of clumping humans woke up our quarry who blinked with a far-away look in their eyes and them mostly went back to sleep.
Time's up at this computer. To be continued.
We visited Rottnest on a day trip from Perth. As day trips go it was pretty good.
Stage One was the ferry. From Perth it made its way down the Swan River. We were given a commentary on various features of the river, with an emphasis on the mansions of those that mining has made into billionaires.
The vessel paused to take on more passengers at the mouth of the river in Fremantle. We were not all tourists; the ferry takes plenty of folk who, to judge from their clothing and luggage, were travelling on business.
In beautiful sunshine we sped across the waves to Rottnest. It really was a perfect day for it. The name comes from the Dutch for 'Rat's Nest'. The navigator who gave the monicker saw many "rats as big as cats" through his telescope and didn't land. What he actually saw were quokkas; marsupials built along the same general lines as a kangaroo, but much smaller and with a quite different head shape. Since they are nocturnal I had little hope that we would see any.
The ferry company offers a range of options. We had selected the optional short walking tour, a cafe lunch and a seaborne 'eco-tour'.
The walking tour - it was really an amble - gave us some history of the island and then the guide said she would try and find us a quokka. Of course, she knew where they slumbered through daylight and we saw dozens of them. The approach of a party of clumping humans woke up our quarry who blinked with a far-away look in their eyes and them mostly went back to sleep.
Time's up at this computer. To be continued.
More on Kangaroo Island
Owing to its isolation from the mainland, Kangaroo island has suffered less from the impact of European settlement and retains more than half of its native ‘old-growth' vegetation - a vast area of some 2,250 square kilometres. Similarly, the island has been spared the damage done by foxes and rabbits, ensuring the integrity of native bushland. The result of this is that the animal and bird populations have thrived. More than one-third of the island is Conservation or National Park and it has five significant Wilderness Protection Areas. So Kangaroo Island is a special and protected place.
It's about 150km from end to end, although the sealed roads go around rather than through the middle of the island. There are two camping grounds. One is at the western end of the island and the other is at Kingscote which is about 60km from the port of Penneshaw which is where the ferry docks.
The first day we went to the camping ground at the furthest end of the island. While we were registering we were told that there was a koala with a joey (all marsupial babies that have leftthe pouch but notleft Mum are joeys) in a tree just outside. Sure enough, there they were and, just as cute looking in the flesh as in pictures. We had booked earlier to go on a nocturnal tour that night, in a nearby wildlife sanctuary and there we saw many more koalas & joeys, kangaroos and wallabies.
Koalas were introduced to the island early last century and have done extremely well. They are reproducing so rapidly that a sterilisation programme has had to be put in place to control population growth. Because they prefer the young growing tips of the eucalyptus trees they can cause quite a bit of damage if left unchecked. The trees need time to recover but if there's too many koalas, they don't get time and eventually die.
After seeing the sealions,as described in the last post, we went to see the Remarkable Rocks which are interestingly shaped rocky obtrusions on a cliff top and then for a walk on a series of steps and boardwalks to Admirals Arch which is a large, spectacular sea arch.
The drive back to Kingscote was marred by a brush with a kangaroo, which bounced into the road in front of us. Even though we were driving well below the speed limit there was no time to swerve. There was a nasty 'clump' sound so we pulled up. Luckily there was no corpse. The errant pedestrian left some fur on the road but no blood that I could see, and s/he had vanished into the bush.
Australian wildlife in general has no road sense. We have seen many roos, wallabies and snakes that have become tucker for the crows and hawks. Australia's largest bird, the wedge-tailed eagle, has become much more numerous with the supply of fresh roadkill. We added one lizard to that sorry total, but have carefully avoided many others, managed to miss one snake and have pulled up in time to allow several echidnas to complete their crossing.
It's about 150km from end to end, although the sealed roads go around rather than through the middle of the island. There are two camping grounds. One is at the western end of the island and the other is at Kingscote which is about 60km from the port of Penneshaw which is where the ferry docks.
The first day we went to the camping ground at the furthest end of the island. While we were registering we were told that there was a koala with a joey (all marsupial babies that have leftthe pouch but notleft Mum are joeys) in a tree just outside. Sure enough, there they were and, just as cute looking in the flesh as in pictures. We had booked earlier to go on a nocturnal tour that night, in a nearby wildlife sanctuary and there we saw many more koalas & joeys, kangaroos and wallabies.
Koalas were introduced to the island early last century and have done extremely well. They are reproducing so rapidly that a sterilisation programme has had to be put in place to control population growth. Because they prefer the young growing tips of the eucalyptus trees they can cause quite a bit of damage if left unchecked. The trees need time to recover but if there's too many koalas, they don't get time and eventually die.
After seeing the sealions,as described in the last post, we went to see the Remarkable Rocks which are interestingly shaped rocky obtrusions on a cliff top and then for a walk on a series of steps and boardwalks to Admirals Arch which is a large, spectacular sea arch.
The drive back to Kingscote was marred by a brush with a kangaroo, which bounced into the road in front of us. Even though we were driving well below the speed limit there was no time to swerve. There was a nasty 'clump' sound so we pulled up. Luckily there was no corpse. The errant pedestrian left some fur on the road but no blood that I could see, and s/he had vanished into the bush.
Australian wildlife in general has no road sense. We have seen many roos, wallabies and snakes that have become tucker for the crows and hawks. Australia's largest bird, the wedge-tailed eagle, has become much more numerous with the supply of fresh roadkill. We added one lizard to that sorry total, but have carefully avoided many others, managed to miss one snake and have pulled up in time to allow several echidnas to complete their crossing.
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