Supressed anger

Ok, dunno quite know how to express it. Was in the South Australian riverland some 35-40 years ago, as well as 1999.. the changes are remarkable. Where once was sleepy little riverland towns, a viable economy and relatively pristine environment - now wall to wall brick veneer and fake Tuscan villas built out of plasterboard and thin veneer. Local vineyards, orchards, pubs and shops, are now "corporatised'. Was wondering who owned (or controlled - the names "Renmano", "Berri") .. and most of the vineyards around here -. Was told that it was some amorphous "hedge fund" American entity called 'constellation'. ("No one can make you feel inferior without your consent")?

Yer, well, sonny, am not inferior and I do not consent.

Fuck off, Wall Street.

Signing up to a "CO2 Emissions Trading Scheme" is tantamount to "trusting Wall Street trading schemes".

No way.

Ooo, lookee

[click pics fer biggeruns]

From the Maize Island campgrounds near Waikerie, I went through Renmark and up to the Mertho 'forest' floodplains, north of Paringa. (there is, as always, many, many words belonging to the 'back story' about that trip - and also about this area (was here in 1999 in a Toyota Coaster bus). Suffice it to say, was sitting minding my own business in the silence after sundown when I hear noises in the trees close by. There, silhouetted against the starlit sky was ..
Not only that - there were TWO of them. Methinks they are Brushtail possums .. and have never seen one in the wild before. Plenty of ringtail possums on Kangaroo Island, 50 years ago .. but never a brushtail.

Also, while am at it - echidnas.

While at the Burra Creek campground, also spotted one of these ..
Once again, first time that have seen one "in the wild" for 50 years.

(they're both on video)

'Big River' country

Have moved along a bit. Am now in 'Big River' country (though- at this time of year - without the locks, weirs and dams - would be a mere trickle).

Words later, just some pics at this stage.

(and Nah, one doesn't have to pay the ferryman)

(not another person within 5 kilometres)

(captured moon)

(dawn pelican)

Movin' right along

Just a quick update. The fires of last Thursday didn't really come all that close - in that I never saw any glow or flames on the horizon - but passing through Pine Point (12K up the road) on Friday, saw evidence that it had come right up to the back fence of the shop, caravan park, and also burnt a couple of the pine trees that border the road. If it had jumped the road, it would have got into the scrub surrounding the large group of shacks at Billygoat Flat .. so, congratulations to the Country Fire Services for containing it.

Packed up and pushed off from Port Julia at about 1pm on the Friday, but only moved about 50K over to the Maitland showgrounds, where they have HOT SHOWERS!!! and 240V power points, as well as water on tap. Only spent two nights there, though, as those little luxuries came at a price. $15-00/night.

Seemed a bit strange; $25-00/week at Port Julia, $30-00 for two nights at Maitland - so that sort of thing will have to be kept to a bare minimum.

Pushed off from Maitland at about midday on Sunday, and only intended to potter up to a freebie campsite at Kulpera about 50K away, as motor vehicle kept overheating - but YUK! Not much room, right next to main road. Sat there for a while waiting for engine to cool, trying to figure out where best to go next, and decided to check the oils. ERK! Tiny skerrick of auto transmission oil on tip of the dipstick. Peer under vehicle, see slow but steady drip from somewhere under engine. Um, think I; well, not much I can do about it here. Topped up the trans oil, and studied map. Decided to push on to Lochiel, but didn't hold much hope of anything there being open on a Sunday. It also occurred to me that Clare was only about 50K away so headed there. Filled up with autogas and bought some more trans oil ($41-00), and Hey, think I, Burra is just up the road. So, That's where I is. My favourite campground.

(pics from last year)

Was the only one here on the Sunday night. Absolute Bliss. "Personal space" must have something to do with early childhood. Some people - the 'majority', I guess - are born into, and brought up in 'family' situations in a city or 'town' environment and seem to be able to cope with living in close confines. Me, no way. Am always under stress in those situations. Even so, depends on population density, I guess. While in Brisbane some time ago, was in the the front bar of a pub having a chat with a guy from Japan. 'I feel uncomfortable in Australia', he says. 'Why', ask I. 'No people', he replies. I had a look out the front door and could see at least 20 people in the street, but having seen pics of the streets in Japan, sort of understood what he meant. Some people are 'socialised' into a 'personal space' of about 2ft. Me? .. have to have at least Five kilometres between me and the next person before I feel truly relaxed and comfortable.

Ran the front wheels of the wagon up onto a couple of rocks, yesterday, to have a look and see if I could find out where the trans oil was leaking, and found that the oil reservoir pan bolts had worked loose. All fixed.

A few more units turned up at the campground on the Monday, but there is plenty of space, so might stay here for a week or so. Don't expect any instant responses from this blog, though. Had to travel the 30 or so K into Burra for supplies and to post this. No internet where I am and, apart from the slough and sigh of the wind in the gumtrees, the trickle of the creek, the chirrup and chirp of birds, just blissful silence.

On the road again

Well, it's nice to know the gummint now think that am worth a few more dollars per fortnight. Had hung about 'til last Wednesday waiting until bank balance registered more than zero and, since was getting itchy feet again, had planned to push off into the unknown last Friday (yesterday?).

Had begun packing up and discarding excess detritus that tends to collect after lengthy sojourns but local events almost prompted an unscheduled and rapid departure. The weather had been unseasonably warm - first recorded November 'heatwave' .. six days over 35C .. and Thursday reached 42C at the campsite - when the fires began.

Weird weather, Thursday. Was hot, and the Northerlies came blasting in as precursor to a southerly change. Had to go into Port V for a few supplies mid-morning when I noticed smoke off to the west. Found out that there was a "dangerous and catastophic" bushfire near Curramulka - just 15 klm away over to the west (the bushfire warnings are a bit 'over-the-top' since the Victorian ones last year, but hey, whatever). Didn't pose a huge threat while the winds were northerly, but sort of scurried home as wasn't sure when the wind would go Sou'west.

Later in the afternoon the sky clouded over and then the lightning began. Weird stuff. Horizontal sparkles. Vertical slashes. Oddly, not much thunder. It really tried to rain but, apart from a few scattered drops, not much reached the ground. Apparently there were spot-fires all over the Peninsula, so the CFS had their work cut out, and couldn't concentrate resources on the one fire. Later in the afternoon, I noticed smoke near Pine Point, 10 klm to the north. Hoo boy.

At this point will have to say that the countryside around here is not similar to the disastrous Victorian bushfires last year. The terrain is mostly flat, vegetation - while tinder dry - is mostly crops or stubble, not much in the way of scrub and with many intersecting roads. Even so, with winds gusting to 90klm, it wouldn't have taken long to get to Port Julia.

Decided that discretion was the better part of valour, so pulled the annexe down, hitched the wagon to the van, and waited. Fortunately both nearby fires were contained by 10pm, so didn't have to make a hurried exit. Bittuva tense time, though.

Spent Friday morning repacking, and am now on the road again.

[I came into this world with nothing - and still have most of it]

Turning point?

Well, the day has come when I 'officially' cease to be a 'useless old git', 'dole bludger', 'cranky old shit' - or, as I preferred to think of it - an unofficial 'inspector of roads'. However, my previous function as 'Distributor of Commonwealth Funds' into rural areas is still current.

As of today am a "senior citizen" (though whether - considering past history - the descriptor 'respected' could be applied or added to my resume remains to be seen; probably not).

I will, however, henceforth refuse to add the three letter apologistic "heh" to any of my writings. You either 'get it' or you don't.

Learning to swim

Wazzat out there? Driftwood?

better take a closer look ..

Errr, nup, looks like .. a ..
Eeeek, am floating, what happens now?

Ok, have constructed this brief scenario. Happened the other day. Up until recently Abbey hasn't quite known how to swim. She will go into the water, but only until she feels her feet lose grip with terra firma - then scurry, bounding, on hind legs back to shore. This was the first time that she 'headed out into the unknown'.

The seal, of course, just gave her a casual glance, rolled over, dived; and reappeared some 300 yards out to sea. Abbey found herself out of her depth; swimming. She looked back at me. I shrugged; OK, I signalled, come back, it's OK.

Sprung!!

Aha. Google is 'all powerful'. Not only do they promise much .. also can't just simply "copy 'N' paste" ANYMORE. Gaaah! End up with some sort of "full disclosure". ooops.

Somewhere (reprinted)

One person's view of life in East Timor.

FRIDAY, 11 SEPTEMBER 2009

OUR MATE

HENRY KOBY

There is a core group of long-time foreign residents in Dili who have brought changes to Timor-Leste whilst at the same time being changed themselves. Henry Koby has certainly left his mark on this town. In return he discovered that he had reserves of energy, courage and humour, enabling him to face the challenges of running an enduring tourism business in Timor-Leste on a shoestring. He was the heart and soul of Dili Backpackers in Mandarin, a simple hostel that has welcomed hundreds of pioneering travellers, making Timor-Leste a must-visit destination for any backpacker worth his salt. I remember him welcoming visitors straight off the bus from Kupang, who turned to him in their bewilderment for advice about how to explore this slightly scary outpost on the backpackers trail. He would shake his head, sigh at their unworldliness and, in his usual irascible way, devote hours to answering their endless queries, pretending to be impatient. Henry had endless patience. He was generous with his time. He had a soft centre. He knew the backpackers’ world, showed a genuine interest in travellers’ adventures – and occasional misadventures – and entertained them by offering an acerbic and usually humorous commentary on life in Dili. He consequently became well-known on the international backpacker circuit, featuring in countless travellers’ blogs, and will be missed by more people around the world than we can imagine.
When Dili was hit by the 2006 crisis, many expats who had spent years and fortunes setting up businesses and making lives for themselves in this country watched in shock as Dili burned. Backpackers were still turning up as youths fought on the street outside the gates. These were strange days. One night Henry drove rioters away with a spade as they tried to climb the fence into the hostel. Even though he was greatly outnumbered, he roared defiance at the intruders. They fled. Henry could be fierce.
During this period, Henry found work as an electrical contractor at the Heliport, newly occupied by Australian forces. I met him one day as he cursed security guards at the Heliport as they would not allow him to enter to do his work because he didn’t have a pass because he was self-employed. Dili was full of people with passes dangling around their necks: police, army, NGO’s and aid workers, who had been shipped in to deal with the crisis. But we expat residents didn’t “belong” to an organization. We just belonged to Dili. We decided that we, too, needed an identity as a group, a pass. So Henry became the first member of the LCC – The Local Characters’ Club – open only to those foreigners who had arrived in Timor-Leste before independence, investing our own capital, without a safety-net . The LCC pass had a photo and an official-looking crest. It worked for Henry and he never had trouble getting access to the work site again when he flashed the pass. It was a joke, based on his quirky sense of humour, but there was actually an underlying seriousness to the bond between Local Characters, who numbered only 20 or so. One of the club’s rules was that all Local Characters should help any other member who was in trouble, regardless of whether they were on speaking terms or not. Henry was always there for us when we found ourselves in a predicament. He would grumble, suck his teeth, and pitch in to help.
Henry had a narrow escape in 2006 when he unwittingly rode into a gunfight on his motor bike. A bullet passed between his arm and his ribcage, punching a hole in his T-shirt and leaving just a graze. He often joked about it. When his final illness was diagnosed, and he returned to Dili after months of treatment, he had us laughing as he told anecdotes about his time in hospital and how he tormented the long-suffering nursing staff. He told us that his illness had brought him face to face with death and that he felt serene about the end, whenever it might come; he was ready. He had also gained a new appreciation of life, a sweetness, a gentleness of manner. In sharing these experiences, I believe that he was saying goodbye to us and trying to diminish the grief that we are all feeling now. He was shy, he didn’t like a fuss. He loved Timor-Leste deeply. He told us that he wanted to be here at the end and I am glad he was. He belonged here. But without Henry, Dili has lost some of its flavor. He will be missed and fondly remembered.

R.I.P. MATE

......

MONDAY, 20 JULY 2009

Oooh It Makes Me Mad

Overhead in a popular watering hole the other night. One UN Old Hand (i.e. more than 3 months here) handing out her wisdom to a couple of newbie’s:

“I like to collect Tais, but you can also get some really good coral jewellery here. The antique stuff is quite expensive but you can buy some made with new coral so I’d say get that”

It’s fucking illegal to buy or sell coral products here, to try and export it out of the country and to try and import it into either Australia, Singapore or Indonesia. Aside from that doesn’t this idiot watch Discovery, Animal Planet or any of the other many channels that have been telling us for years that coral reefs are dying? That we have a responsibility to help protect them.

UNTAET
UNTAET/REG/2000/19
30 June 2000
REGULATION NO. 2000/19
ON PROTECTED PLACES

Section 4
Coral Reefs

The coral reefs present in the waters of East Timor shall be protected. For the
purposes of the present regulation:
(a) the intentional killing, damaging, or destruction of coral or coral reef;
(b) the use of explosives or poisons for fishing which results in the killing,
damaging, or destroying of coral or coral reef;
(c) the buying or selling of coral or products made from coral; and
(d) the export of coral or products made from coral,
shall be prohibited.

Well, that got that off my well oiled and muscular chest

justice

Interesting word.

Am not dead, just sort of ' out of touch', don't say much - but still have a bittuva squizz around the blogosphere.

This one caught my eye.

Long walks are cheap.

Not a lot of anything major has been happening. Poverty is beginning to become a way of life. Long walks are cheap.

Go away, am sleeping.
Oh, we ain't got a barrel o' moneeee ..

but we travel along, singin' a song ..

side by siiiide ... heh.

Crinkle cut ...
Damn, that'll teach me to trust air traffic control.
Well, we tried to make a go of it ..
.. but there's always the next bit of road less travelled ..