Tramping tales for October 2007

Over the past few months we have spent much time debating how we were going to continue with our blog – the previous one having placed far too much time and stress on ourselves. Not only meeting the weekly deadline but also our relationship, especially with regard to our different styles of writing and naturally our differing perspectives.

Our final decision is to write a less detailed monthly blog, containing anecdotal tales from our meanders around Australia. This second phase has us retracing our steps, in some places, for the third time. Hopefully, it allows a new form of blog to evolve - possibly each of us writing up a particular account. Apart from the excitement of exploring new places, there is still much to be said for returning to the places we have particularly enjoyed, re-experiencing them in a different season.

October route map

We began our journey with a relaxed 4 days spent just outside Dunsborough with Sax, Paul, Talia and Harley-dog. Sax and Paul took the whale watch boat out to sea and caught wonderful visuals of whales on the Saturday and our little charges were perfect.

Believe it or not we discovered a bad leak on the water pump when Lea found the floor of a cupboard sodden. Another wretched plastic fitting to blame! George tried mending it with two different types of adhesive sealants over the weekend, but neither worked. Fortunately a plumber in the caravan park told us where to find a brass replacement. Done with ease, and hopefully sorted once and for all.

It’s sometimes tough growing old – the confusions that arise, crop up all too easily!
Back on the road after eight months away demonstrates this point quite clearly….
After our meal of spatch-cocks on the BBQ – Lea noticed George had moved the BBQ close to where Talia was asleep. He duly moved it to the opposite end of our campsite to cool down.
Next morning as Lea approached the bins to dispose of “doggy do” she was taken aback to find coals lying on top of the lid and scattered around the base… Thoughts of “our coals” immediately jumped to mind BUT an environmentally conscious old fellow wouldn’t DO THAT would he? For peace of mind, best check.
“Yes, I tipped them into the skip” and the righteous mere male came to see what the fuss was about, and then blustered “It was dark and it looked like a skip from this angle”…

Naturally, the evidence was swept up in the time it took for Saxon to fetch her camera.

Plans to go to different places over the weekend were so often thwarted by Dogs Prohibited signs! Hence we didn't get out to Cape Naturaliste to look for whales until the Gees left after an early lunch on the Monday. Driving out to the Cape proved a measure of distraction to the farewells. There we spent a good two hours scanning the ocean from the whale watching platforms and only near the end of our time did we suddenly see some distant spouting and then some breaching - which gave us a thrill. We’d much preferred to have been without binoculars though!

We returned to the super bush camp at Conto's Field in the Leeuwin-Naturaliste National Park that we'd discovered earlier in the year and spent two nights there. Again, we walked that superbly elevated section of the Cape to Cape hiking trail looking for whales in vain! However, the wonderful variety of wildflowers in bloom more than made up for the missing whales. We have never seen the bush around here looking quite so magnificent.
A cold front moved in on our second day confining us to Getaway as rain and wind battered us despite being in a relatively protected hollow amongst the peppermint trees, even they added to the chill with their tiny white blossoms making them look as if they had been caught in a snow flurry.

Shire run caravan parks invariably have the best location and the one in Augusta right on edge of Flinders Bay was no exception. An entrancing, brilliant blue fairy wren and his dowdy little wife flitting around outside our door was an added attraction for the two days we were there. Our next couple of days took us to Molloy at the top of the Hardy Inlet which is fed by the biggest river in the South West, the Blackwood. Our stay in this lovely environment where wild kangaroos and parrots visit unfortunately coincided with another cold front bringing gusty winds up the inlet and intermittent rain. By evening we were shivering and mighty grateful for the electric kettle and toaster that we’d looked at askance when Sax and Paul had initially given them to us. The excitement of the World Cup rugby final generated many email photos of green and gold supporters (dogs and children included) and did not lead to ethnic problems within the family. Sadly we missed any coverage being out of TV reception range.

During a work orientated visit to Perup Ecology Centre in the late 90’s George returned full of enthusiasm after his many encounters with woylies. Since the eradication of foxes, researchers were using this 100ha study area, buffered by a 50 000ha nature reserve to monitor the recovery of the State’s rarest mammals including the numbat, tammar wallaby and chuditch.
Earlier this year we attempted to get permission to visit the woylies from the Dept. of Conservation and Environment only to hear it was closed. Back to try again, we struck lucky. Access is by arrangement only. This beautiful facility constructed of rammed earth and renamed The Perup – Nature’s Guest House offers “an environmental and ecologically sustainable nature based experience for the community” and as word spreads – tourism in general. Although not set up for caravans, Glen Batty the caretaker, was a most considerate host inviting us to join his talk to a group of 70+ Senior Citizens out for the day, supplying us with a strong torch for our night spotlighting walks and ensured we were comfortable in our little spot. We had a wonderful time with good sightings of tammar wallabies yet nothing of woylies. It seems the earlier successes with woylies are unravelling for reasons unknown.

Woylie Walk, one of four trails, wound us round the reed swamp and led us away into the woodlands when a strange sound caught Lea’s ears. On alerting George well ahead of her, he seemed to think it was an alarm call from a parrot. Somehow the sound seemed more of distress or upset and reminded Lea of the tree frog we’d heard in Kakadu last year – in the time it took for Lea to catch up with George the sound was ongoing… Together, we continued up the path straining to ascertain where the sound was coming from and moments later realised we were standing close to the tree but could see nothing as we scanned the boughs – almost simultaneously our eyes caught the gleam of a snake’s tail high-lighted by the sun at a broken off rotten fork near the base of tree. Binoculars were hurriedly raised to check whether we could believe our eyes. In the heat of excitement George passed over the binoculars saying “tiger snake”. That immediately sent a ripple of fear as Lea peered down the lenses to see the now magnified snake reverse slightly from the obvious hollow. It appeared so big that the gasp and leap backwards Lea made didn’t stem the drama that was being played out in front. “Get a photo” and to her consternation, instead of George doing just that he began sneaking up to the tree, moving to the left. This further agitated Lea as that seemed far too close to the head of a venomous snake and she swiftly moved up the path to see what view was to be had from that angle. Nothing! Dying was taking oh so long a time, but the final death rattle seemed to be in progress. Hoarsely Lea told George to move - he took steps to the right and began his time honoured procedure of composing the picture. Lea watched in dread, with adrenalin racing in case the disturbance should have the snake tumble out at George’s feet – the distress sounds resumed. A flash went off and then, in an effort to see more clearly, the mad man began using his watch face to create light within the hollow. He beckoned Lea over but nothing would induce her to venture closer. Eventually he returned to the path and related that the snake had disappeared from view by the time he had stepped right. No snake but he could see two possums towards the entrance of the big cavity that spread downwards into the trunk of the tree. Thinking about it later, we realised a tiger snake wouldn’t be searching for a meal in this habitat it was probably a carpet python. That evening we returned to the scene of crime and peered down to see a sleeping possum – only one!

Can you spot the possum?

The flash photo revealed a snarling possum, but no snake. So where did it go? Did it slip past the parents and in doing so create all that shamozzle, or was it squeezing one of the youngsters for breakfast?

Out of interest we are giving George’s written perspective –

Examining the tail through binoculars suggested its owner could be a tiger snake. If so, then the noise coming from within what we assumed was a hollow in the fork of the tree, must be its prey, now taking its last gasp? Instead of taking a photo there and then, George could not resist trying to get closer – and with that, the snake’s tail disappeared into the hole. Convinced that he was about to be bitten by an angry snake Lea kept her distance – quietly having kittens. Peering into the hollow George could see the face of a brush tailed possum staring back at him, but the hole was too deep to see whether the snake was in there as well. His first idea was to see whether by taking a flash photo – the flash may illuminate what lay within. This didn’t work too well so his next trick was to remove his watch and using it like a mirror, shine a ray of light into the hollow, thereby obtaining a clear view of two possums within but still no sign of the snake. His invitation to Lea for her to come and see them was refused.

The mystery of the missing snake remains unexplained. Assuming that the sound we’d heard had been the possums volubly objecting to the snake’s presence, why hadn’t they come shooting out of the hole as soon as the unwelcome intruder slithered into their den? If the snake hadn’t represented a threat, what species would it have been? Would possums be prepared share their den with a snake?

Remember how we fell for Boyup Brook? WELL, discovering that Harvey Dickson was hosting the WA State Rodeo Final - weekend 27th October had us mulling over the idea of attending for a good couple of weeks. Permission for Perup made it possible and back to Boyup Brook we went to await it. We grimly sat out the rain and wind all Friday hoping it would be over and done by Saturday – not so! George felt sure it was rained out. Easily forgetting that like England, weather doesn’t always dictate at long awaited events. Watching competitors, camped along the river with their ponies, at the Old Flax Mill Caravan Park, prepare to leave for Harvey’s rodeo grounds– we wondered what we were expected to endure and rugged up warmly. Saxon had bequeathed her old police boots to Lea and for the first time they came into their own.

To come over the rise and look across the Dickson land dotted with campers, caravans and tents regardless of the weather was an amazing sight and somehow we just knew we were in for something good! This place we’d loved in its emptiness had rightly come alive. Seeing this essential Australian scene of folk, kitted out in akubras and drizabones looking the picture of wet weather elegance captured our imagination and will forever epitomise these iconic garments. Adding to the occasion was the country music with its inclusion of riffs that were popped in at appropriate moments of introduction or drama during the bull riding, calf roping, steer wrestling and bucking broncos.

Harvey Dickson's Rodeo

All kept us entertained throughout the day as wave after wave of low grey cloud driven in by a bitter wind had us huddled under our rubberised picnic blanket in a desperate effort to remain dry and warm during these onslaughts. Just when we thought we could not tolerate another moment the sun would appear with empty promises and our attention would be diverted by humorous incidents. On a couple of occasions, an enraged bull held the arena to ransom, turning it into a mini bull-fight by refusing to leave the ring. Butting and chasing the horses, charging the clowns, scattering cowboys up and over barricades within an inch of their lives, pawing the ground and casting an evil eye on the spectators’ just beyond. Twice during the day we returned briefly to Getaway at the Flax Mill to add warmer layers and double up on warmer socks - even digging out our hidden long-johns and George’s beanie.

The final time was necessitated when George, shaking with cold and involuntarily and noisily hissing through his teeth, quite sure he was suffering hypothermia. Yet, determined to attend the after show party, we returned home to change his wet socks and have his feet bound in clingwrap to ward off the damp chill of his one and only pair of vellies. Gulped down hot soup as we watched the news and weather and learnt that not far off on the Stirling Range it was snowing. Then eagerly returned to Harvey’s Country Music Party moved from the rodeo grounds into his famous music shed to escape the inclement weather. We love The Shed with its history hanging from the rafters - a wonderfully eclectic collection and it made our day to end up witnessing a country music concert in here - packed! Three bands taking turns over the night we squeezed onto the dance floor amongst all the young folk, as it was the best place to warm up and immerse ourselves in the music and atmosphere. The spontaneous reaction of a young woman catching our eye, approached us quite overwhelmed and said “this is my first visit and it is unbelievably special” matched our feelings entirely.

With no let up in the weather we returned to the coast and found a perfect camp site at Cosy Corner. A free bush camp tucked away under peppi’ trees with the waves pounding close by.
Weather was the chief conversation amongst fellow campers here, as the gales and hail had upset the salmon fishing and the vineyards. Christmas 1998 was spent two beaches East and we walked there before breakfast on our second day scrambling over the rocks and reflecting upon the memories of that camping Christmas, joined unexpectedly by Jamie & Emma and wondering how fate finds us here almost at the 6th anniversary of his death.
When George came to get an updated photo of the beach – calamity struck! The power button had jammed and that was the end of camera number 2! No Paula with back up… As Albany is our last big town for a good month or more we decided to leave our “cosy corner” to do camera shopping. A camera is like George’s right hand he cannot exist without one!

Hong Kong Interlude

After carefully and deliberately distributing our luggage between three bags (these having been left in storage at Carmen’s flat in London - one containing a wooden chair for Talia) our flight to Hong Kong got off to a bad start when we told at Heathrow airport that, regardless of weight, we were each allowed only one bag in the hold, or else pay £120! Nor could I take my computer on board plus a small backpack. Having cable tied our bags – the first problem was to find a knife to open them. The next was to unpack adjacent to the check-in desk, squeeze our belongings into two bags, put some clothes into my computer case, squeeze that in as well and carry the laptop under arm. By the time we’d had to take off our shoes, removed belts, discard our water and an almost empty tube labelled 150ml – the “joys” of air travel were beginning to wear a little thin.

Eleven hours later we landed in Hong Kong, and in complete contrast to Heathrow, experienced the smoothest of smooth passages through immigration and customs, quick retrieval of our baggage, passage through a spacious, well-signposted facility and transferred on a silent, comfortable, high-speed express train to Kowloon where we were met by the Honk Kong courtesy buses that took everyone to their respective hotels - a painless affair that impressed us no end. The Minden – chosen from an answer in the travel section of an English newspaper proved perfect for our needs. Our first impressions of a city environment containing 7 million people which in spite of its towering sky scrapers, busy streets (11 700 road casualties / year) and shopping centres, was so clean and efficiently run - we seldom see equalled. Hats off to Hong Kong!

Adopting the stress free “package tour” approach that we’d found so rewarding and informative in Athens, the first thing we did on arrival was select a number of tours that gave us the widest possible range of experiences. These included a tour of the city, an island tour, a tour of the surrounding countryside (“the land between tour”) and, as a special treat, to coincide with our last night, a tour of the harbour with a seafood dinner. Our first morning we strolled to the Hong Kong History Museum doing our best to disregard the touts trying to obtain business for tailors and noticing how many roads have English names - relics of the “good old colonial days” when the British were enjoying the fruits of a thriving opium trade according to our visit to the Museum where we found a most enlightening historical introduction to our time in Hong Kong!

That afternoon we took a HK Island tour: Hong Kong’s water and 80% of its food comes from mainland China. Luxury items (tobacco, alcohol and petrol) are heavily taxed and the import duty on luxury cars is 110%. However, the various forms of public transport are so good that very few people need to own a car. The small, expensive council flats aptly named “diamond cages” stack skywards and overtime this has impacted negatively on cultural family traditions. Young people are not marrying until they are in their late 30’s because their first priority is to save enough money to buy an apartment, and by that stage they do not want children any longer. Young women in Hong Kong are steadily becoming more and more career conscious and self-sufficient (our guide Kim-Kim worked a 17 hour day with one week off per year and complained about the tendency of eligible bachelors going to China to find a traditional wife prepared to stay at home and do the housework! After visiting the ancient Man Mo temple we were taken on the funicular up Victoria Peak for panoramic views. Here we must mention the detraction caused by smog laden air enveloping the city from our arrival. We heard that a typhoon approaching Shanghai was causing unsettled weather (low pressure) and the industrial pollution that hangs over inland China had been pushed out over Hong Kong and there it stayed for almost 4 out of our 5 days.

Lea overlooking Hong Kong from Victoria Peak (400m asl)

En route to Deep Water Bay and Repulse Bay with the inevitable jewellery factory thrown in, we looked out on the elite suburbs where wealth, along with superstition, reflected itself in a prestigious apartment block overlooking Repulse Bay. A large architectural gap in the structure enables the passage of a dragon living in the hillside behind to move unencumbered down to sea without any difficulty and, if it desires, enjoy a drink from the swimming pool in the complex. A brief stop at Stanley market ensured we’d come back another time via the local bus service! Finally we caught the Star ferry to Kowloon for dinner on the waterfront with a laser show - HK’s Symphony of Lights which lost most of its impact for us due to the smog.

Our boat trip over to Lantau Island passed the runway of the airport and we discovered this was hardly our first visit to the island but the second as we had unknowingly landed here on arrival in Hong Kong! We were taken to the traditional fishing village of Tai O and in the market came across many of the weird sea-foods available for sale – masses of dried seahorses, shark fins and fish bladders – and were intrigued by the trouble taken by vendors to keep their catches of prawns, crabs and molluscs alive using battery operated aerators.
We were given a vegetarian lunch at the Po Lin monastery, the most popular Buddhist temple in Hong Kong with its massive 26m high, 520 ton, bronze Buddha - the “enlightened one” overlooking the place.



This tour scheduled a cable car ride but weeks before a gondola had fallen off - Horrors for Hong Kong! Digressing - Just prior to us immigrating to Australia a decade ago an article appeared in the South African newspaper about “Omo” land - referring to Oz as a highly regulated society and in comparison to Africa we found it so… However, Hong Kong takes the cake. Never before have we seen quite so many signs (many threatening prosecution) telling people what not to do! From pushing in queues to spitting, littering, fishing, lighting candles, smoking, you name it … feeding birds included! Instead of the cable ride we were taken to Cheng Sha beach. My! My! Having lived in Natal with its shark protection measures it was amazing to find all Hong Kong’s beaches protected by shark nets resulting from one shark attack that occurred along the coastline. Every swimming beach is enclosed by nets, inside of which is a boom to prevent people swimming near them. Despite the beach being empty when we arrived, there was a bevy of lifeguards in attendance. One in a stainless steel observation tower; another on stand-by with a motorised rubber-duck and shark warning flags; another waiting in a fully-equipped onshore clinic; and yet another sitting on a pontoon anchored offshore in the centre of the swimming area. All these precautions together with notices about not swimming during thunderstorms; when the water temperature reaches 24°C; for 3 days after rainfall; at dusk or dawn; and - just for good measure - notices about protecting one’s eyes and skin from UV radiation! This is called “duty of care” and the Chinese take the matter very seriously. Returning to Hong Kong using the local ferry from Silvermine we were stunned by the number of bicycles parked in rack after rack stretching for ever at the terminal indicating the number of commuters using this service. We’d love to have seen the mass exodus at the end of the day

Our Land Between Tour took us out into the rural portion of the New Territories which extend 60km inland towards China revealing Hong Kong to be surrounded by mountainsides covered in dense forest, reminding us of rain forest in places as we ascended Tai Mo Shan (Hong Kong’s highest mountain (annual rainfall is 2 000mm). Not much subsistence farming any longer as the local vegetable farmers have long since sold their plots to property developers.

Temple visits gave us an understanding that ancestor worship is an all important belief. We saw many memorial halls where the walls are filled from top to bottom with the ashes and photographs of people’s ancestors. There is not enough land available in Hong Kong for people to be buried in a grave, so 7 years after being buried the bones are exhumed, carefully cleaned and incinerated. The relatives pay astronomic prices for space in the halls, the most expensive being those at eye level. They purchase, and subsequently burn, all manner of things made out of paper for their ancestors to use in the next world. The Yuen Yuen Institute illustrated all this very clearly. A shop selling everything made of paper from clothing, watches, money, radios, mobile phones and foodstuffs – all of which are burnt as offerings on funeral and memorial days, the smoke taking these things up to heaven. George was reminded of the day he found a Chinese $200 000 note blowing around the Karrakatta cemetery in Perth and not knowing any better, thought he’d stumbled across a massive fortune. “Not so” said the bank manager – “but it would be useful for playing monopoly”!

At our next stop, the sight and sounds of the construction machinery busy extending a massive multi million dollar development - Beverley Hills, contrasted sharply with the simplicity of the Sam Mun Tsai floating village that we had come to see. As we walked out on the breakwater we stepped over the rough and ready cables and pipes supplying the floating platforms - homes to the fishermen with water and phones for fax / email contact. Generators provide electricity. We wondered about the countdown on what may be considered the “blight on the bay”?

Saturday night and we delightedly took our sunset cruise on a traditional Chinese junk taking in the upper reaches of Victoria Harbour lined by a multitude of towering buildings, all illuminated in different ways flashing and sparkling their reflections across the waterway. Even the moon was shining her silvery trails amidst all the glitter and glamour. Arriving at Lei Yue Mun Fish Market we warily stepped through the wet passages passing an amazing array of live marine delicacies awaiting consumption from menu orders of the many seafood restaurants that back on to the market in every direction. Specimens of which we’d never seen the like of… Elephant nosed clams looking the most gruesome!



Our table of eight turned out to be from Australia, all of an age and like minded, that it made for good conversation between the different courses that came our way. A post- prandial walk took us along the by now, for us, often trampled Avenue of the Stars to visit Temple Street Night Market which turned out to be exactly like we’d seen depicted in travel books.

Our last day was spent on the harbour wandering through Art Galleries and a craft market totally free of mass produced “made in China” goods as found elsewhere in the world! Instead, perfect examples of ingenious thinking, crafted by hobbyists who love what they do.

Crowning our visit was the pleasure of checking in our luggage and receiving boarding cards before we’d even got to the airport. The whole efficiency of the operation being just as impressive departing as it was arriving.

Rubber Tramps visit Greece

We planned to fly in and out of Athens, spend a night with a college friend, see Athens next day and then begin island hopping. Instead Greece unfolded another way… Our night with Pinkie and her husband Christos became a week! Their wonderful hospitality, caring and central location in Glyfada despite being their busiest period at their Language School added a special dimension to our trip.

Pinkie & Lea reunited after 40 years outside the language school

On checking out travel possibilities to Kos with a Travel Agent we discovered a 4 day Classical Tour inland that covered all the places that Lea’s Dad had mentioned in his 1965 Community Development Tour of Greece with 50 Rhodesian Chiefs. A visit to Greece was twofold for Lea as somehow it held the key to her Dad’s love of Greek Mythology and ancient history that came about after the Chief’s Tour and her Gran had always spoken of a deep desire to visit the Greek Islands. But as life will so often have it the plans made on her retirement at 78 didn’t come to pass as Granny Lassie died in her office just week before. We booked four tours that encompassed an interesting variety of places for us in the very limited time we had available and these proved a successful choice.

We arrived soon after wild fires in Greece (supposedly lit by arsonists) had received world wide coverage. In making our booking of the tour through the Peloponnese we were warned that there was little left of the countryside to see. Rumours abounded - the museum at Olympia had been burnt down. Olive trees wiped out leaving a shortfall of 12 000 tons of olive oil from the region. To conspiracy theories revolving around property developers being the perpetrators enabling them to buy the scorched, so-called valueless land, from farmers and shepherds at ridiculously low prices. With elections imminent some accused the opposition party to be responsible, while others considered international terrorism a likely cause. Whatever the case, from what we saw, we concluded that the severity of the fires had been exaggerated. Knowing full well that the vegetation would recover we couldn’t quite understand what all the fuss was about. Possibly the rumours arose from the smoke that no doubt engulfed Olympia’s museum… We found it unscathed. The scant ground cover under the olive trees meant that apart from a few singed trees on the periphery of the orchards, they too had remained largely unharmed. As luck had it the 4 day tour we made in a large coach with 4 Canadians, 2 Australian girls and ourselves was a joy. A private tour - courtesy of the fires!

Before leaving the UK we had been warned about Athens … “dense traffic, smog-filled air, crowded sites and museums, intense summer heat, a city in chaos, of constant noise …”
We missed the worst of the season’s heat fortunately and the abundance of yellow taxis in Athens (60 000 of them said to be serving the demands of the population); the prolific amount of hooting and the lack of road markings were amongst our first impressions of the city. This, as well as parked cars covered in grime, litter that lay thick in the gutters alongside the roads and men constantly flicking their wrists associated with the distinctive sounds of worry beads (go-bo-lossi). Contrary to this negative description we were amused by the taxi “chatting” at intersections and generally found the hooting to be a form of anti congestion communication!

Our visit to the Acropolis (meaning ‘city’ on the ‘hilltop’) as one of the most famous ruins in the world was memorable. The Parthenon and the temple of Athena Nike were both thickly clad in scaffolding due to costly restoration work following after American experts botched it first time round! The crowds of people were dense yet it did not detract all that much from the experience and the views over Athens were absolutely stunning.

Lea amongst the crowds at the Acropolis

However, take heed, all the stairways leading up to the Acropolis are crafted from marble and over the decades of pedestrian access (at rates in excess of 10 000 visitors a day) these slabs have become highly polished and lethally slippery. We saw several unwary tourists clutching at the air as they fell on their backsides and for much of the time found ourselves hanging onto each other like two old dodderers! Below the Acropolis, set among gnarled old olive trees, lay the ancient Agora (market place) and a magnificent museum containing all sorts of artefacts from the Acropolis. There were beautiful examples of bronze work (the griffon’s head being a favourite), the early use of glass and of the moulds used for making the folds in garments when carving marble statues. We’d just learnt that the three “enemies” of Greek antiquities were Man because of his inclination to plunder. Oh dear, in their National Museum an empty room has been set aside to remind visitors of the Greek antiquities currently residing in the British Museum! Secondly, Early Christians for demolishing idols and knocking the heads off anything that resembled a God! Thirdly, earthquakes… Situated on the north Aegean fault Greece is a seismically active region with 20 000 earthquakes, mostly minor, having been recorded over the last 40 years - the last severe quake being in September 1999. Thinking about it there are probably several other “enemies” – atmospheric pollution (acid rain) and flooding for example.

The fleeting sight of the Changing Guards caught from our passing coach definitely required closer inspection that after the agora we walked back to the city through the Plaka to find the Voulis and on the hour we watched this ceremony from start to finish and if Lea could have had her way, we’d still be watching… Whether it’s the Changing Guards at Buckingham Palace or the Guard change at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Arlington – USA, the rigor involved is the same. However, the unusual footwear and high stepping, foot-waggling legwork of the Greek Evzones enhances this spectacle.

The fast moving traffic travelling on the “wrong” side of the road according to our pre-conditioned minds made crossing the roads a hazardous affair – particularly for Lea who finds crossing without the aid of the “green man” at traffic lights traumatic. One especially stressful occasion arose the day of our “one day island cruise” We were waiting outside a hotel pick up point on the edge of a busy 6 lane highway into Athens, our coach well overdue, when Lea noticed a lady emerge from thick bushes growing on the median strip that separated the traffic flows, waving a piece of paper. It proved to be a signal for us to cross the road and join the coach awaiting us on the opposite side! With hearts in our mouths we managed to cross the first three lanes successfully and seek refuge on the island but, when faced with crossing the next three lanes, it became a case of every man for himself. George abandoned Lea and made a quick dash, leaving her to cross in her own time. Everyone on the bus watched this terrified lady looking in the wrong direction waiting for a gap in the traffic, and wondering how long it would be before we were finally on our way. No such thing as “duty of care” in Greece! We were so late boarding the ship that was to take us on our cruise that virtually every seat had been taken. Each deck jammed packed with people and we landed up sitting in a lounge with 4 Indians (one of whom reminded us of PW Botha, die “Krokodil”!), masses of Japanese playing card games and a crowd clapping and singing along to Greek songs being played by wandering minstrels. The austerity of the many islands we passed were a far cry from the postcard impressions of white sandy beaches we had in mind. At each of the islands of Poros, Hydra and Aegina we were given time off to wander – Here we found the quintessential street cats, donkeys, floating markets and the blue shuttered white houses that epitomise Grecian villages and many pistachio stalls!

One mule to another on Hydra

On the way back to Athens a sudden storm blew up bringing rain, and a chilly wind that generated a heavy swell. This did wonders to clear the smoke haze hanging over the Peloponnese in readiness for our “Classical Tour” the next day.

Our coach followed the “fine cliff hanging road…” past “the site of naval battle of Salamis (480BC)” and stopped in “New Corinth – to see the shipping canal through the isthmus” all mentioned by Dad. Two major engineering projects in this area…The first, impressive to Dad and ourselves, is the 6 km long Corinth Canal dug through the isthmus between the mainland and the Peloponnese to facilitate the movement of ships between the Aegean and Ionian Seas. Subsequently back in Perth, our friends Des & Liz provided us with another perspective of the Corinth Canal, as they had sailed through in their yacht a couple of months previously.
The second, opened in 2004 in time for the Olympic Games, is the 160m high, 2.2 km cable-stayed bridge over a narrow section of the Ionian Sea that facilitates communications with Italy and Western Europe. The bridge built by the French at a cost of 770 million Euro is a remarkable feat of engineering considering the weak sediments on the sea bed, the high seismic activity and possibility of tectonic movements.

This classical journey of 1 300km undoubtedly had the deepest impact on us. Beginning in the ancient amphitheatre of Epidaurus, which is famous for its acoustics, came a magical moment we are unlikely to forget. In the hubbub of the milling crowds broke the sound of a mother singing to her small son seated way above her - a spontaneous, spine chilling performance in its simplicity that instantly silenced everyone and afterwards resulted in resounding applause. Amidst the ruins of Mycenae with the concentric shape of the graves circles, the massive cyclopean walls and the conical / beehive shape of the treasury of Atreus to the stone stairways and chevron patterns prevalent among the stonework at Olympia, came our first realisation and understanding why Dad had felt such a great affinity to the Ancient Greeks. So too, did we recognise similarities in the stonework and form of Zimbabwe Ruins. Recollections of the stone work that Dad had so enjoyed doing in all his gardens dating back to his bachelor days in the 1920’s, came to mind. Even his daughter’s gardens, have contained touches of his handiwork. Not to mention the careful selection of rocks that went into the building of “Dangamvuri”, our family home. We were both acutely aware of his presence out there.

We found the setting of Delphi, known as the geographical centre or “navel” of the world, nestled below the rocky walls of Mount Parnassos and overlooking a deep fertile valley of olive trees stretching for ever, to be the most inspiring of the sites visited.

Our short, plump guide who Lea named the “flying fox” due to the voluminous black garment that billowed around her and our remarkably skilled bus driver both deserve a mention. Packed with character, Elena has been in the guide business for 39 years following in her father’s footsteps and there is no doubt she knew every twist in the road. She drew a sharp distinction between ‘tourists’ (empty-headed, uncaring sods on the look out for souvenirs) and ‘visitors’ (like us!) and was not afraid to yell at tourists doing unsafe things, or ask nearby tour groups in museums to be quiet in no uncertain terms.

Matching the majestic inselbergs of Niassa and the granite kopjes of Zimbabwe are the towering pinnacles of granite that occur behind the town of Kalambaka in central Greece. Unbelievably striking was to find old Byzantine monasteries, some dating back to the 15th century, perched precariously on top of them.

We visited two monasteries that had become nunneries, St Stephen (Agios Stefanos) and St Barbara Roussanou. From each we enjoyed stupendous views, looking over the edge of the cliffs - some sculptured like Uluru by wind and water - wondering what it must have been like building and servicing these places hundreds of years ago. Some had even been “bombardized” (using Elena’s terminology) during WW2.

A wonderful comradeship developed over the four days and we all felt a measure of sadness as each couple was dropped off at their respective hotels in Athens. We were sent back to Glyfada in a yellow taxi, and for once it was George who found himself nervously cringing after noticing that the driver was using his left knee to drive while he busied himself doing paperwork, answering the phone, making calls and then dismantling his mobile phone on his lap! All during the 17km ride home on the highway, congested with traffic moving between 80-100km/hr. Lea quite unaware of all this.

Catching the overnight ferry to the island of Kos, we disembarked at 5.00 the next morning while still very dark and walked through a picturesque fortified harbour in the gloom and found ourselves a bench outside the walls of the castle and waited until the sun rose over Turkey, a mere 5km away. Hundreds of frenzied little birds greeting the dawn mirrored our mounting excitement – and with no buses to be seen, we began walking out of Kos town along the coast to find the Beach Resort where our Ramsden family had been scheduled to arrive during the early hours of that morning. Once there, we sat on the beach eagerly awaiting a glimpse of a familiar face! Eventually a bleary eyed Dan emerged, wondering how he was going to retrieve his windsurfing gear abandoned at the airport. So began two nights and barely two days of idle, carefree family time together.

Squeezing illegally into their little family room added to the enjoyment along with eating custard filled donuts, visiting nearby sulphurous hot springs (therma) that run into the sea, and eating Grecian meals in the local taverns.

Finally, sad in the knowledge that we really had no idea when we may all meet again, Dan took us to Kos airport at the crack of dawn to catch our flight back to Athens, and from there on to London. We had loved every minute of our 10 day visit taking in Athens, central Greece and four of the 1 400 islands that are said to lie dotted among the blue waters of the Aegean and Ionian Seas.

Family Holidays

Our “family business” took eight months to complete. In a nutshell, it comprised:

25 January – 16 March

Enjoying time with Saxon and Paul in Perth awaiting the birth of our first Australian grand-daughter, followed by two weeks with Talia Paige Gee who arrived on 2 March 2007

Our family in Australia... Saxon, Talia, Paul and Harley dog

17 March – 18 April

Flew to South Africa, staying in Somerset West with our Wortmann family while popping in and out of Cape Town to be with Keith & Colleen in the lead up to the arrival of our African grand-daughter, Ella Malaika Begg, who arrived 14 April 2007

Our family in Africa...Keith, Colleen and Ella

Days later, en route to the airport for our flight to London, we arrived at the hospital to say goodbye to Colleen and had the joy of seeing and cuddling Ella, just out of ICU.

19 April - 2 September

Back in the UK for the summer it was hard to believe we were in Battersea Park with Carmen enjoying magnificent spring weather so like the start of the autumn we’d left behind us in the Cape.
Spent four months with Justine, Daniel and our three English grand children.

Our family in England... Ruben, Dan, Kiki, Justine and Otto.

Felt especially privileged to look after Otto, Roo and Kiki while Justine and Daniel went down to London for a music festival and later, when Justine and Daniel took a break to go diving in the Red Sea. Our plans to go on outings were knocked out by a summer that didn’t materialise. Instead we experienced thunder storms and flooding on a scale never seen before.
In early August took a three day trip to Poland to see Auschwitz.

3 – 15 September

At the beginning of September left for Greece, returning to London for the weekend with Carmen (15-17 Sept) before flying back to Australia via Hong Kong (18 – 23 Sept).

Week 44 (22nd - 28th January)

After four days of bush camping we needed to refill our water tanks and have a decent shower. Mandurah provided us with a site in a very pleasant, informally laid out caravan park set amongst big trees and an easy five minute walk into the town centre. The last place you’d think the Beggs would choose. However, with Mandurah situated alongside the Peel Inlet the town is a most attractive place. Actually it is hardly a town any longer, more like a mini-city. We were amazed at the development that has occurred over the last ten years and still ongoing around Mandurah. When we first arrived in Australia there had been a job prospect for George here, with Water & Rivers Commission. How tempted we had been to buy land overlooking the Peel-Harvey estuary. Not much point in thinking about “what could have been” … but it may have been a smart move.
Zigzagging again we left the coastal plains and headed inland into the Darling Range. Noticing a turn off to Waroona Dam we pulled in there, liked what we saw of the bush camp in the forest and stayed. The dam is very popular for water skiing and a large gang of teenagers under the supervision of adults arrived at the same time as us and for the rest of the day the sound of motorboats towing kids around on tubes and aquaplanes, together with their laughter, filled the campground.
Close to our campsite was a tiny memorial garden to a little boy, Taylor Jamie Price, “tragically taken at this site” in 2005. Most poignant, were his soft toys, pistol and swords and a message reading “Campers, if you have the time, please water this garden of mine”.

Watering Pricey's garden - Waroona dam

With first names to match the Jamie Taylor we’d had in our lives we felt an affinity for the four year old and gladly watered his garden. On leaving Waroona Dam Lea popped into the office and asked about “Pricey”. This small boy had died at that spot in a freak accident when a branch had crashed down on him. In Africa we’d have considered it a freak accident but here, in Australia we are not so sure. Here, trees regularly shed their branches and you may recall while we were in Darwin a nine year old school boy eating his lunch in the playground died as a result of a branch falling on him. With night falling late due to daylight saving in WA, the mob of youngsters only stopped their water activities at last light. When we went to bed they were only preparing their swags and eating dinner. Later bloodcurdling screams rent the air, followed by nervous girlish giggles. A girl obviously liked the sound of her own scream and kept interspersing the first part of the night with it.

We moved on to Lane Poole Reserve, also in the Darling Range, to check out Nanga Mill camp where we had intended spending last night. We arrived in “Murray Country WA” and discovered a suite of six campgrounds spread along the course of the Murray River. George had no idea the upper reaches of the Murray River were so inviting with huge pools, rocky water slides and stretches of ideal canoeing country not to mention white water rafting come winter, otherwise we’d have come here during our Perth years. We earmarked a future stay at this outward bound haven, two hours from Perth. Fate was on our side, next day bush fires swept through this area.

Murray River

It was too early in the morning to stay plus we were keen to see things around Dwellingup. Our first stop was right up George’s street. The Forest Heritage Centre built of rammed earth in a three gum-leaf design. One leaf housed a Gallery of fine wood pieces. The middle leaf is the Australian School of Fine Wood, WA’s only training facility. Sadly no students or artisans were at work when we visited. The third leaf was the Interpretive Centre with the most interesting information on the history of the timber industry within these jarrah forests. Following on from the railway logger’s “running guard” we learnt about in Shannon National Park we were no less intrigued by the “sleeper getters” of Dwellingup. In rough and difficult living conditions these men were skilled elite craftsmen responsible for cutting railway sleepers in the jarrah forests each providing seven sleepers a day. These became WA’s earliest export (1836) supplying India, South Africa and the London Underground! When a Royal Commission recommended hewing of timber cease in 1903 the sleeper getters took matters into their own hands, and calling themselves “Teddy Bears”, formed the first “socialist” (worker-owned) mill operators in the world! When WW1 broke out the sleeper getters were among the first to enlist. Of the seven Western Australians to receive a Victoria Cross, two were sleeper getters. Outside we took the Timber Getters Trail to a reconstructed camp which gave us a good idea of their bush life (circa 1910) and later a Jarrah Forest Foray included a short canopy walk with a good view of the Centre’s unique leaf form.

We lunched in a park proclaiming Dwellingup as the “heart of steam engine country” before moving a few kilometres down the road to the Marrinup POW Camp. Who and why did the Australians need to incarcerate was our query and interest in coming here. Following a dirt road into forest and then a pathway, we found the “Cage in the Bush” which during 1943-1946 held 1 200 Italian and German soldiers captured in the Middle East. In response to a severe labour shortage in WA they were brought here to assist in rural primary industries. Most of the prisoners worked as woodcutters supplying 2 500 tons of firewood each week to Perth. The Italians arrived first and had to build their place of incarceration. With the intense love Italians have for their trades, they readily produced buildings of a high standard. Other than a few foundations, a sawn off tree used as a watch tower and a little stonemasonry work are all that remain as testament to those times. Unfortunately what were clear explanatory boards have faded, warped and cracked with exposure to the elements, a pity on a site of such historical significance. We gained much from our visit and sixty years down the line understood how isolated and foreign this environment must have been in comparison to the wet, fertile lands of Europe for these blokes. Most of the escapees were recaptured having a beer in the Dwellingup Hotel! Although one soldier succeeded in returning to Italy, obtained his discharge papers and immediately migrated back to Australia only to apprehended working in a Perth night club in 1951.

Marrinup POW camp - Dwellingup

Late that afternoon we pulled into a rest area opposite the cemetery in Pinjarra for our last night on the road. In his book “Outback on a Budget” Brian Sheedy (1987) wrote “reaching the end of a long journey is like finishing a good book. It is a relief to be there, but it hurts to let go”. After eight months on the road we will miss the constantly changing landscapes and campsites we’ve been accustomed to yet, at the same time, welcome the luxuries of life in Saxon and Paul’s modern home.

We drove through to Perth the next day, unpacked Getaway, now in need of a major service, and with the weather having turned unpleasantly hot again, were easily persuaded to christen the spa pool on S & P’s patio. With the residents of Perth all running air conditioners the local demand for electricity rose to the extent that the wiring in a box on one of electricity poles near the house burst into flame. The falling sparks generated a grass fire on the street verge that Paul and George had to put out and during the black out that followed we sat on the balcony watching the Western Power team swing into action and fix the problem. The fire brigade arrived the next day …. for what purpose we still don’t know!

In the spa pool

The scorching hot weather (42°C) persisted all weekend. Australia Day – 26th was far too hot to consider joining the throngs alongside the Swan River for the day. Instead, we drove to a nearby vantage point to watch the fireworks at 9 o’clock that night. A combination of lightning strikes and thunder behind the city added to the spectacle. We are taking a “holiday” for family business now. It began with a weekend of birthday celebrations for Saxon and Lea and the countdown to the arrival of Baby Gee follows.