Trip 4: August 15, Part 1

Beautiful sunrise—but noisy. Galahs, parrots, corellas, peewees, and several birds I could not identify broke into joyous cacophony as the sun peaked over the edge of the world.

The morning chill began to dissipate as the sun topped the trees and shone on our camp. We’re actually camped in what would be the bed of the river, if it were at full flood. As it is, we’re about 15 feet above its current level. Pretty amazing difference a little rain makes. The river is lined with river red gums and coolibahs (both large, handsome eucalypt trees—though thanks to the song “Waltzing Matilda,” more people outside Australia have heard of coolibahs). Nikki was heating water for our morning tea, and I quite happily got a photograph of her waiting for the billy to boil under the shade of a coolibah tree.

Nikki and I had a second cup of tea, while Richard changed the flat tire for the spare. I expressed my concern over this being such a rough trip, and Richard reassured me, “This is what it’s like out here. That’s why I’m prepared—and why I have insurance, for when it’s harder to fix than a flat tire.” Fortunately, he also expressed the sentiment that not traveling in the outback was not something he was willing to consider. Then, that task done, we headed off for a hike along the river, just to enjoy our surroundings, before heading out for the day.

Driving toward town, it was startling to see how, within yards of the lushness surrounding the river, the land became dramatically drier. We stopped at the nearby KING tree. Unlike other blazed trees in this area, this one doesn’t date back to the 1861 expedition, but was carved in 1947 to commemorate that this is the area where the expedition’s John King both survived and was found.

Into Innaminka, which was surveyed in 1890. First business was to get the flat tire patched. Then, since we haven’t had a shower in three days, we headed for the Innaminka public ablution block. The $2 “donation” seemed like a bargain, especially since there was plenty of hot water. Lovely.

The National Park Service office for this area is housed in what was originally a hospital established by the Australian Inland Mission (AIM). The building has been restored and, in addition to offices, houses a display of the area’s history, both European and Aboriginal.

Stopped at the town’s delightful general store to pick up lunch. Bought meat pies (yum) and Bundaberg ginger beer (spicy but non-alcoholic). One thing that caught my attention was a very practical product for campers: “toothpaste tubes” filled with condensed coffee and milk. Just squeeze a bit in your cup and add hot water. Clever.

After eating, we headed for Burke’s grave. This is where explorer Robert O’Hara Burke was buried when he was found dead near here in 1861. His bones were later taken to Melbourne and a monument was erected. Then on to the Dig Tree.

Trip 4: August 8

Another beautiful day. Up and into town. Sunday, so Brian wasn’t with me on the train today, as he didn’t have to go to work, but that made it easier to focus my attention out the window. Train swept past stands of trees, small towns, and the broad Parramatta River. I smiled when we pulled into the North Strathfield station, where, on my first trip to Australia, I changed from the Sefton train to the train to the Hawkesbury River, to ride with the riverboat postman. But today, I continued on into Sydney.

This time, I disembarked at Town Hall, where I emerged to the sound of bells pealing in the cathedral there—St. Andrew’s. Sign said there was a service in five minutes, so I decided to join them. The beauty of the interior matched the elegance of the Gothic Revival exterior. Founded in 1819. Anglican. A lot more formal than my church at home, but quite wonderful. Excellent choir. Great service. Delightful people.

Then I was off and hiking around. Still a lot to explore. Walked all around Darling Harbour, then headed for Chinatown. Finally found Indonesian food in a downstairs food court, so stopped for lunch. Then back through town, visiting sites I had wanted to photograph the day it rained and I’d left my camera at home. Over to Hyde Park, down Macquarie Street, through the Botanical Gardens, where I heard and then saw a kookaburra. I’ve never stopped loving their laughter.

Through the gardens to the shore and around to the Opera House. After several hours, I found myself wearying of walking, but I disliked the thought of stopping. I always realize that the future might hold a return trip, but I am also aware of the fact that this could be farewell. And though Sydney is not my favorite place in Australia, it’s probably my favorite city here (though that might be due at least in part to its being the city I know best down here). And though no city here holds my heart like the wild places do, I love Sydney enough to make parting a bit hard.

Made my way around Circular Quay and headed up George Street to the Wynyard Station. Walked in at 4:19 and saw that the next train was at 4:21, so weary or not, I quickened my pace enough to make that train. After boarding, I gave Brian a call to let him know which train I’d be on, and he was waiting at the station when I arrived.

Back home, I made tea, and Brian, Mardi, and I read the newspapers and chatted. Mardi was still not fully recovered, so instead of heading out for a farewell party, Brian and I headed off to get Chinese food to bring home—my treat, in thanks for their generous hospitality. Good food, good conversation, and an interesting documentary about kangaroos on TV rounded out the evening, with the day ending just after midnight.

Trip 4

Well, COVID is dying down and people are beginning to travel again, so I feel a bit more inclined to share my travels once more. I even have a friend who is heading Down Under in a couple of months. So here we go again:

Trip 4:August 3–4

Time to return to Australia. It seems to not be a place I can easily get out of my system.

Since it is clear that I have headed to Australia in August each time, I thought I’d mention that there are a number of reasons. First, it’s off-season, so the airfares are cheaper—and, just as importantly, I’m not battling crowds of tourists everywhere I go. Second, it’s winter in the top half of the country, which means days and days of dazzling sunshine. Then spring begins September 1, and while it can be cold and blustery in the south, it’s not cold compared to Chicago – and it’s usually in full bloom and quite a delight to see. So while it might not be the ideal time for everyone, it is for me.

(Of course, my first trip, when I was there for six months, I got to see more of a span of seasons and weather, but that was a different trip. Only important thing to remember is that you can’t really do the north in their summer—January and February—the monsoon season. But if you’re just heading south, summer is dandy, as well—though it can be toasty.)

My flight to Los Angeles was on time. First order of business was to hike over to International. It’s funny—as soon as I headed downstairs from my arrival gate, I had one of those travel flashbacks. It had been nearly three years since I’d hiked this same route, but in reverse, making my way to Domestic after about 25 hours en route home from Bali, and suddenly, the walk seemed as familiar as if it had been yesterday.

As you may remember, if you’ve read the tale of trip #3, not all travel days are this easy, but this was a breeze—or as much of a breeze as anything can be that involves a 15-hour flight. But this was happily uneventful. An inadequate amount of sleep the night before made sleeping on the LA to Sydney leg of the trip pretty much guaranteed, which makes the flight seem a little less long.

I was looking forward to seeing Australia again but also to visiting friends from previous trips. I would of course visit Judy and Geoff on their lovely ranch, and Nikki and Richard had outlined a grand adventure to remote areas still on my wish list. In addition, a friend from back home, Brian, had married a lady, Mardi, who is an Aussie, and he moved to Sydney, so I had someone new to visit.

And then, at long last, Sydney Harbour was passing below me and we were landing. I’m back in Australia! Brian and Mardi were waiting for me in customs, and we headed for their car. The drive through Sydney was lovely—much familiar and much changed. Out to the suburbs and home.

Their house is charming. Mardi took me for a quick tour of the house and of her small but lovingly arranged garden of indigenous plants. Fun to see so many of the flowers and shrubs that I knew from previous trips. Then a cup of tea, some delightful conversation, and finally upstairs to bed—because sleeping on a plane is not the same as really sleeping.

Trip 3:Friday, September 15, Part 1

It’s really quiet up here in the mountains, at least until the kookaburras wake up and start “laughing.” As a result, I slept soundly and awoke merrily. Hard not to chuckle along with the sound of the kookaburras. Enjoyed a rainwater shower (all the water here is collected rainwater), which was as soft on the skin as it is sweet to the taste.

It was a beautiful morning, with sunlight flooding in through the windows that face the back paddock. The chatty, bell-like song of the rosellas drew me to the window. Rahmyl (Judy’s horse) was tolling in the thick grass. A gentle breeze stirred the tops of the towering mountain ash. Sunlight and blue sky dominated the few white clouds overhead. I love this place.

More birds gathered outside, offering a great show: the brilliant red and blue crimson rosellas that I have always loved so much, the yellow and red Eastern rosellas, a little wattle bird, swallows, and a couple of maned geese with eight babies trailing along behind them. The resident black duck came up and settled into lunching on the seed that Judy and Geoff leave out for it.

After breakfast, Judy and I went shopping, leaving Geoff behind to putter in his work shed and the garden. (We figured he deserved a day off, away from both us and the car, after driving us all over Victoria for the last couple of days. Among the shops at the mall, there was an excellent book store that stocks all the Australian classics. Judy bought me a copy of Sara Henderson’s bestselling autobiography, From Strength to Strength—because during my tour up north, I had passed Henderson’s remote and rugged property (near Victoria River).

We were back home before 2:00, and spent a little time enjoying coffee and conversation on the deck, enjoying the cool but sunny day, watching the birds flit about and Rahmyl graze nearby. But then it was time to head off again, though now Geoff joined us for the afternoon’s glorious adventure.

Trip 3:Wednesday, September 13

Awoke to the sound of kookaburras’ laughter. Always a happy way to be awakened. Had a more relaxed morning, with a bit of a sleep in and then a tour of Judy and Geoff’s lovely, mountainside property. This is a pretty piece of land, surrounded by tall mountain ash (another type of eucalypt) and decorated with indigenous and imported flowers. We hiked among the trees and around the shrubs, down the steep paddock, and through the gardens. Geoff showed me the wombat holes and possum nests, and pointed out the grevilleas and banksias (local flowering shrubs, particularly healthy ones here). When a family of maned geese appeared, Geoff related that these birds, also known as wood ducks, mate for life.

We stopped to have a “chat” with Rocky the Cocky (pet Sulphur-crested cockatoo), and then gathered for lunch on the deck. It was a perfect day, warm and blue-skyed. Bird song offered a lovely “soundtrack.”

After a light lunch, we jumped in the blue Land Rover and headed off to the Karwarra Australian Plant Garden and Nursery. This intensely planted floral reserve, set amid forests of eucalpyps, is dedicated to indigenous Australian flowers and plants. Some of the flowers were ones I’d seen before, but here I was able to learn names. Plus there were some that were unfamiliar varieties of ones I knew. Pink and white star-like flowers growing in masses turned out to be waxflowers (eriostemon). I admired deep purple baeckea ramossima, wispy, pink hakea sericea, yellow phepalium squamulosum, white thyptome, plus by now familiar waratah, acacias, heaths, and everlasting. And the gum trees were in bloom: wonderful, shaggy, fragrant flowers. One interesting display showed the progression of banksia from flower to spire to starting fruit to mature fruit (I’d only ever seen the flowers before).

There were a lot of birds, as well. Many were familiar and often mentioned through this narrative, but I encountered a new one: a wonderful little creature with a curving beak, which I learned was an Eastern spinebill.

Here’s a link to Karwarra, should you wish to visit or learn more—or just see a few photos. https://visitdandenongranges.com.au/activity/karwarra-australian-plant-garden-and-nursery

In addition to exploring and pointing things out to me, Judy and Geoff were shopping for their own garden. So they were taking home some lovely blooms, while I was simply taking home photos.

We stopped at a bakery in the little town of Olinda, where we enjoyed cream cake and coffee and picked up bread and rolls for the week ahead. Then back home. First priority was taking care of Rahmyl (horse), Bullitt (dog), and Rocky (cockatoo). Then into the kitchen to fix dinner.

Those of you who have read my book will know that I met Judy on a riding trip (she is “Judy of the white crash helmet” in the book). Because of this connection with riding, Geoff put on the soundtrack from the movie “The Man from Snowy River.” And for those of you who don’t know the significance of that choice of music, below is a link to a post I did on “The Man from Snowy River.” Because if you want to know Australia, you need to know this poem, which is iconic, and was the inspiration for the movie that gave us the soundtrack. (It was also, to a certain degree, the inspiration for my taking the riding trip on which I met Judy.) Horses play a big part in Australian history, and a surprising number of the great riders also wrote poetry, so the two are intertwined.) Anyway, here’s the link to the poem, its background, and even an excerpt from the movie.

The Man from Snowy River

Restart

When Waltzing Australia was published in 2007, I felt certain that there would be a sequel—a book that covered the astonishing adventures I’ve had during return trips, each of which took me even farther afield.

But life intervened. I had to earn a living, so I began writing textbooks and magazine articles. Then I became increasingly drawn into food history, and a couple of books came out of that (Midwest Maize: How Corn Shaped the U.S. Heartland and Pigs, Pork, and Heartland Hogs: From Wild Boar to Baconfest). As the years went by, it seemed increasingly unlikely that I’d ever get around to that sequel.

And so, I’ve decided that this blog will stand in for that second Australia book. The adventures are now a few more years in the past, but that’s the nice thing about falling in love with a really ancient land—if you’re considering a rock that is 35 million years old, it doesn’t really matter if a few years have passed since you last saw it. So I’ll be getting back to blogging here, though not perhaps so regularly, and probably with fewer photos, because I was still using film on those last trips, and scanning slides takes a lot of time. But we’ll see. Books without wizards or werewolves don’t make one rich, so I still have to earn a living “on the side,” so there is never as much free time as one would like. But I still want to finish recording the trips back, as there were so many wonderful adventures.

Wish me luck. And hope to see you as I continue the journey.

Not Gone Forever

While I haven’t posted on this blog for a while (though have tried to keep my other blogs going, especially Midwest Maize, since that’s actually connected to how I earn a living, while this one is just done for love), I’m not gone forever. Two things have kept me from having the time to keep this going. I’m caring for my mom, who has dementia. And one of my Australian friends–Richard, who played such a big part in all my return trips–died of a heart attack last summer, and that just sort of took the wind out of my sails. But I still have information and a few adventures to share–including, alas, my last adventure with Richard. So I’ll be back. In the meantime, there are nearly 500 posts on this blog, so you should be able to find something interesting about Australia. Or you can check out my other blogs. But I shall return.

Moving Right Along

It has been a while since my last post — and may still be a few weeks before the next post. I have just moved house, so everything has been chaotic for a while, and will be for a while longer — because getting back up to speed on the activities that pay the bills (writing and speaking engagements) has been my highest priority. But once I dig out from all this, I’ll be back with more tales of my adventures in Australia. So stay tuned.

Trip 3:Friday, September 8, Part 1

We’ve decided to stay where we are, since it’s a nice little cabin and quite near the Flinders Ranges. But first things first. After a hearty breakfast, we jumped in the ute, took our damaged trailer to the repair shop, and spent a couple of hours immersed in insurance forms (though I was just there for moral support—Nikki and Richard did all the work). But that out of the way, we headed for the mountains.

Approaching the Flinders Ranges

Road into Flinders Ranges

On the far side of Pichi Richi Pass, with stopped in Quorn, to buy train tickets for tomorrow—because Pichi Richi is not just the name of the pass, it’s also the name of the railway that was built from Port Augusta northward. The Pichi Richi Railway, opened in 1879, was originally intended to stretch all the way to Darwin, though that never happened. However, it did make it to Alice Springs by 1929, and it became an important route, especially during World War II. Service on this line ended in 1957, but that was not the end of the railway. Local train enthusiasts formed the Pichi Richi Preservation Society and, since 1974, the rails have carried historic steam trains filled with visitors to the area. (I wondered if Pichi Richi Pass was named before or after the train reached Alice Springs, where Heavitree Gap, the break in the mountains that gives access from the south to the Alice, is also called Pitchi Richi, with the added “t.” It was explained to me on my first trip that Pitchi Richi means “break in the range,” which is certainly also appropriate for Pichi Richi Pass, so perhaps it was geology rather than the connection that led to the similarity.)

Quorn Railway Station

We drove across the Willochra Plain, passing the Kanyaka ruins, which we visited on my list trip. Showing nothing of the harshness that led to the ruins, the plain today was very green, with orange, yellow, purple, and white wildflowers running riot over the rolling terrain. Birds were everywhere, not just here but throughout the day: galahs, corellas, kites, eagles, kestrels, magpies, Port Lincoln parrots, and more.

We stopped briefly in Hawker, where Richard was greeted warmly by friends from his days as a guide in this area. The roadhouse at the center of town had a display of souvenirs and photos from the making nearby of the film “The Lighthorsemen.” One of Richard’s friends pointed out the locals who had bit parts in the movie—all much younger in the photos than they are now, as they movie was made a while ago. But it was a remarkable bit of history, and I have no doubt taking part in reproducing it would be a memory not readily given up. (If you have any interest in the history behind the movie, as well as a clip of the key battle, I posted about it after mentioning a monument to the Light Horse that I had seen in Western Australia. You can see it here.)

September 7, Part 2

The beauty of this land is such that, even though we had just traversed this section of road a few hours earlier, I was still absolutely delighted by it. The graceful, curving trees, the green and blue brush, the wild flowers, the red dirt, the mountains a purple ripple rising in the distance captivated me. Among the trees, there were a few gums and acacias, but the majority of the trees were the casuarinas known as black oaks. As we drove by one tree, a wedge-tailed eagle lifted into the air. The sky was remarkable, filled with towering cloud formations.

Going back over the site of our mishap, it was easy for Richard to see more clearly exactly what happened. Sheared off bolts were scattered about the place, and our swerves, as Richard fought for control, were carved into the soft edge of the road.

Skid marks

We began loading gear into the new trailer and discovered that the rental place had forgotten to include the handle for the winch. (Needed the winch to pull the damaged trailer up onto the bed of the new, larger trailer.) Richard tried to use a wrench to work it, with Nikki and me pushing the wrecked trailer. Finally, Richard (who is, fortunately, a pretty big guy) just grabbed the front of the trailer, and the three of us used brute force to get the camping trailer loaded. We then loaded everything else, covered it with a big tarp, and headed back down the bumpy road toward Port Augusta.

It’s a good thing Richard is such a good driver. We discovered next that the brakes on the rental trailer don’t work, so, without care, it could easily go out of control and flip the much lighter ute. At one point, a gust of wind hit the trailer, making it swing wildly, which started the ute swerving from side to side, almost off the road, but Richard managed to regain control.

We stopped a couple of times to stretch our legs and enjoy the scenery, but mostly we just kept going, trying to beat darkness and/or the approaching rain from catching us out. Late afternoon turned into a beautiful evening, with miles of purple mountains outlined along the horizon before us and dramatic storm clouds prowling up from behind. But we did make it safely back to Port Augusta.

Clouds closing in

What a day!

We checked into the Fauna Holiday Park. We’ve rented a “cabin,” sort of a large trailer on a permanent site. It has a kitchen, TV, two bedrooms, and a shower. We were glad to be able to clean up after all the dragging and loading.

We went shopping at a Woolworth’s on a street lined with lovely Victorian buildings. The store offered a huge selection of wonderful, often exotic food items (I’m guessing a benefit of being a crossroads). We got goodies for the evening, and returned to our cabin to settle in for the evening. Richard is making a stir fry for our dinner, and Nikki has set out delights for “happy hour.”

Tomorrow, we’ll drop off the camping trailer to be repaired, then plan what we’ll do for the next two days. But that’s tomorrow. Right now, the pâté with port, the prawn dip, and a cold glass of Strongbow cider are calling me.

Nice end to an unusual day.