Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Baywatch

The pack as much as you can into summer extravaganza continued with a long weekend beside the seaside, complete with beachside brunches, brilliant BBQs, Boags beers and other things not beginning with B. From Malua Bay to Jervis Bay where Sunday evening provided me with a blissful walk which makes it straight into the top 10. The White Sands Walk sounds promising and lives up to its name, not only because of sands whiter than a Pommie in winter, but the wonderful bushland, fragrant lushness and melodic warbling of semi-suburban wilderness.



It was so good I came back the next morning, ready for some lazy lolling in the sunshine, suitable recuperation after a night in a genuine bushland campsite. On face value, a beautiful peaceful pitch for the night, set in trees beside a creek yet its sheer natural setting made it a haven for bloodthirsty mozzies, screeching nocturnal possums and a dawn chorus chirpier than a cheeky cockney chappie.


So back to the beach, just me, the waves and a glamorous bikini photoshoot taking place on a distant corner of the sands for company.



It was a tough Monday morning, but I had to move on, bound for Sydney and some work related shenanigans. There was time to take in a few more stops along the way however, with the odd detour up hill and down dale, scenery near Kiama with a semi-resemblance to South Devon, though still no sign of proper clotted cream! Further north, and the rolling hills turned to steep escarpments, rising up from the third biggest city in New South Wales, Wollongong or ‘The Gong’ for those in the know.



From here, the road rises up to the plateau, crossing a huge swathe of green before spluttering into the outer fringes of Sydney, levels of concrete rising, kebab shops increasing, wonderful pizza places serving yummy food to take onto the beach, cars commuting, training taking place, Ipods providing a good sing-a-long, Maccers in the misty highlands and the lights of the Telstra Tower appearing on the horizon.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

What a difference a week makes

Such is the sometimes cruel and sudden changeability in the Australian weather that this week triggered long trousers and jumpers, a cool moist easterly airstream cutting temperatures in half and giving the land a fighting chance. The land is a tough cookie and six years after bushfires ravaged a huge area of the ACT and Canberra, the Tidbinbilla Valley flourishes in life and peace and sanctuary.

The Sanctuary at Tidbinbilla is the perfect name for a meandering track through wetlands, eucalypt forest, grassland and virtually every habitat in between. It pulses with life, from not very scary unidentifiable tree mice, to slightly more worrying emus to very scary snakes slithering away before you can take a picture of them.



Outside of the Sanctuary are of course countless roos, possibly scary, although most of the time they just run away from you once they’ve stared you out. For some reason, I can’t help but picture the kangaroo with a machine gun in Crocodile Dundee… they just have that look about them.

Now I would like to point out a new link we have on the right of this here blog – it’s a work in process but I have started making my very own Google Map, showing the tiny portion of Australia covered in my travels and some pictures during those times. The aim is to keep it updated each week. Now you can know not only exactly what I have been up to but where I have been. Ah, life in the public domain!

Sunday, February 08, 2009

A million miles from snow

This is extreme summer, the very height of sweatiness marked by a fortnight above 30 degrees with three 40C days in a row. The cooling nights angrily absent, the fans spluttering and the air-conditioned malls alluring. The wide brimmed hats and smell of sunscreen offering a meek defence against the penetrating sun. The evening walks barely cooler, made worse by the smoky air filling in the valleys from every direction.

The dry gusty winds like an overactive hairdryer, all too quick to ignite whatever lay in their path. Great for drying the washing. Crunchy yellow grass, even the animals cannot be bothered to do much but sqwawk even more vehemently. Only humans persist, keeping the economy afloat, but that too seems to be withering away like a 30 cent softserve from McDonalds.

Metal handrails on Mount Ainslie are scalding to touch, frozen cokes rapidly defrosting in baking car interiors. The car a/c up to the FOURTH notch for the first time ever. Lethargic pilgrims heading to the water, the sand-whipped beaches and shark filled surf of the east or the brown waterholes of the west. Some even float along with eskies in the stagnancy of Lake Burley Griffin. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

This is the extreme of an extreme summer yet we are the lucky ones.