Whittoons

You land at an Aussie Air Force base when heading to Ningaloo National Park.  No photos permitted. Originally it was an American base when the US found it had a gap in its submarine communication system.  So they built transmission towers taller than the Empire State Building in a grid at the end of the remote, desolate desert peninsula.  American cars were imported, and everyone drove on the right side of the road. And a town rose up in Exmouth and eventually the Aussies took over…and returned to driving on the left side of the road.

After getting the keys to our rental Toyota Corolla, we found ourselves to be the last in the airport. It was deserted. Just a little creepy.  We headed north to Exmouth with a vast blue bay to the east and to the west, – rough hewn hills warn down over eons.

Breakfast was at the Social Society Cafe where they served everything vegetarian…and sold vegan dog food.  You can hear the dingos laughing like hyenas over that.  Actually there are warning signs about dingos up here though we did not heard any yipes in the night.

Past the tip of the peninsula, we could see the turquoise water to the west in brief glimpses through the low dunes along the coast.

[Note the submarine communication towers in the photo off to the right.]

Just arriving at our “camping” destination Sal Salis Ningaloo Reef, and like magic a humpback breached just past the reef.   A nice orientation.

Our stay was brief but we managed to snorkel twice, drifting with the current just off the beach over coral and multiple varieties of colorful fish.  While kayaking we floated over a sea turtle and startled a reef shark.   At night, we walked down to the beach, stretched out on the beach furniture…and watched the infinite stars above us.

Conversations over meals came in all varieties from political, to health policy and homelessness. And travel.  Our fellow campers seem to have been everywhere.  Taking the first Northeast Passage Cruise, riding helicopters to resorts for Christmas on the Barrier Reef,  arriving to much hoopla in Yangon on the first cruise ship to dock at their port, and on and on.  No travel envy here.  Several fellow campers were from Melbourne…and without much to say on the positive side for Perth.  “Nothing to see in Perth!”

Our base camp in Adelaide was an historic site, Largs Hotel, about 20 minutes by light rail from downtown. Right on the water and near the Largs Pier, this spot was valiantly holding on as an icon of a vibrant time of beach frolicking and fun.   Now it hosted a tiny casino and a bottle shop around back.  A bar and large restaurant still brings a few visitors and to be fair, this was a cool spring week and not conducive to beach frolicking.

A short flight on a jet prop took us to Kangaroo Island where we were met by a tour guide Michael and a 4 wheel drive Toyota Land Cruiser.  Almost immediately our guide showed himself to be a acute observer.  Cruising down the main road across the island, he quickly swerved off the road, did a U-turn and stopped next to a wild echidna marching down the shoulder.

Well not actually marching, more like shuffling on tiny legs and shoving his/her (really hard to tell given the coat of spines) nose into the ground smelling out bugs.  It walked right by my knee as I squatted for a photo op…echidnas are not known for a sense of hearing or sight.

A new addition to the park contains grassland from a previous farm, so this is ideal habitat for kangaroos. Much of the older park has not be managed with fire, so is very overgrown and not suitable for Roos.  Several Roos were carrying around joeys. In surprising one or two, the young joeys nibbling on grass would dive headfirst into their mother’s pouch, then peer at us from the comfort of home as we drove by.

Our tour included dashing to sites between rain showers.  Lunch was served under shelter after walking through the woods spotting Koalas.  Koalas were brought to the island to rebuild their numbers, and they have now overpopulated the habitat.  Michael spotted three Koalas in one eucalyptus tree.  That is not good.  Usually it is one to a tree where they gradually … very gradually, eat all the leaves…and then move on.  Since it would be cause a huge uprising by animal lovers if they thinned the population by hunting and transporting them back to the mainland is exorbitant, the authorities have started to sterilize the cute little buggers.

At the Arches, the leaned into the wind to make it down to wooden platforms to see the enormous erosion that produced the natural arch.  Below were fur seal pups jockeying for position of repose.

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Though one mother was not too pleased with an interloper interrupting feeding time. We later learned that this fur seal population had invaded the island and gobbled up all the fairy penguins.

Final stop was at the Remarkable Rocks.  While utilizing a toilet at the site, a hail storm swept through and so I made what seemed like the logical decision to stay sheltered while Michele felt obligated to save Michael from the storm.  He was waiting for us out in the weather facing the onslaught. Both got completely soaked. Michele returned to the car to change into some Ibis wool underwear I had brought, while Michael persevered and lead me around the Remarkable Rocks.

Our flight back was not exactly smooth. Flight attendants stayed seated for the roller coaster ride.

Back in 1973 I was a crew boss for Petty Ray Geophysical Company,  working in the Great Sandy Desert.  Normally on our breaks, the company sent us to Perth, but we had passed an escarpment with caves during our cross county trek looking for oil and I asked to be dropped off at the site.  My crew thought I was crazy.  As you can see from the old photo, they left me with a large container of water and “Good Luck, Mate!”

I spent the week exploring the caves and found a variety of paintings depicting aboriginal song lines.  The silence was astounding and the nights spectacular.  Mid-week the crew drove several hours from base camp to check on me, and sit around my campsite.  As I flicked a scorpion into the fire, they judged that I had not gone bush nuts, so they left me in peace.

So here Michele and I were returning to the Outback to experience camping of a very different style.   Though not far from Alice Springs, we were privileged to enjoy extraordinary peace at the Squeaky Windmill,  beautiful bird calls from Galahs landing out front, (as well as Australian Ringneck Parrots, Western Bowerbirds and more) and a couple of wallabies at the watering hole.

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A day trek out to see the McDonnell Range took us to a road stop that had a lovely river cutting through a gap.  Other swimming holes are located at other range gaps yet the waters there were still, cold and had algae near the beach edges.

We did not venture in.

Crossing from Uluru to Alice Springs, we chose a rental car, though others in the past have used trustworthy camels.  Some camels still wild across the desert ever since the British brought in Afghans and camels to make supply runs across the vast outback.

This road side attraction was typical of the stops along the way…few and far between.  Here you could visit the Camel farm next door and take a short camel ride.  Here they told the story of the explorers Giles and Gibson looking to be the first to find a route across Central Australia.  Unfortunately, one horse died and Gibson went off for help with the other horse never returned.  Giles survived somehow.  The Outback is cruel. Definitely critical to fill up when you can so we took advantage to top off at the intersection of Lasseter Hwy and Stuart Hwy.

Respecting the wishes of the local aboriginal population, the Yankunytjatjara and Pitjantjatjara people, we chose not to try and climb Uluru aka Ayers Rock.  As of October 26th no one will be allowed to climb the sacred rock, but for now it looked like a bad day on Everest.  A line of rule breakers clung to a cable running up the precipitous trail, with some starting out in full 90 degree weather.  Absolutely nuts. Several people have died trying this and the attempt to conquer the peak is absolutely wrong.

We chose the walk around Uluru to view it up close an personal after viewing sunrise with hundreds of others.  Some in pajamas and one guy in his bathrobe but all there to capture the moment.

 As we learned from the Cultural Museum, several highly significant events occurred on and around Uluru in local Ananga legend.  The marks of ancestral spirit pythons versus poisonous snakes are on the walls, the vanquished snake is now a huge boulder.  The holes potmarked the surface, some created by the ancestral Minyma Itjaritjari mole.

We walked counter-clockwise for three hours to get a close up view of the rock, taking a view detours into a couple of gorges with sheltered watering holes, one still retaining water in this dry season.  In both gorges Michele and I had quiet moments to listen to the space around us..before more tourists found the spot.

How anyone makes it on these walks during the Australian summer is a mystery.  Temperatures reach 107 degrees?  Just stepping inside one’s rental car would be excruciating.  In the cool of one evening, we joined others to watch an art installation, the Field of Lights.

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In the cool of one evening, we joined others to view an art installation, the Field Of  Lights by Bruce Munro.  As we enjoyed beers before the show and as the sun tinted Uluru, another couple regaled us with their last four days and nights in the bush, sleeping in swags under the stars.   Knowing they would be going to a canyon where Prescilla in the Desert was filmed, the mate had purchased an outrageous outfit on eBay complete with size 14 red, high heeled shoes. Once at the site, he decked himself out in full regalia and showed us photo documentation on his phone.   The Show must go on so we downed our beers and headed out into the dry warm night wandering through the vast field of stars fallen to earth.

A site for tourists and locals alike, Mossman Gorge offers forest walks near cascading creeks and frigid pools for those with the nerve to indulge.  In the quiet moments along the trail, it is amazing to see the intertwining of vines and trees of enormous proportions. The huge vines eventually overwhelming a host tree as they strive to reach for daylight.  A slow quiet strangulation.   Up in the canopy an occasional screech or the slow hoot of a forest pigeon.

Humans are diminished by the scale of things, yet many fruits and seeds of these Goliath species have been used by the past aboriginal populations to survive.

Away from the constant chatter of Portuguese visitors or the crying of children, we could find a few isolated pools.

Though visitors approached one perfect spot with trepidation since a snake skin marked the trail as evidence of a lethal presence nearby.  Not the time to beat the bushes or explore the sand bars.  Tread softly but carry a big stick.

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Our retreat for the next three days and nights is a study in contrast with the Port Douglas Motel.  For one thing, you can not drive to your room.  At this eco-lodge, your car is parked for you, bags delivered to your bungalow and you walk everywhere.  Our package deal gets us a lower elevation bungalow in the woods.  The lodge sits atop the coastal promontory, and the most costly rooms sit up high.  But hey,  we have easy access to the beach and the nature walk.

From the tree house-like dining room, you can view visiting birds landing at a mini-watering hole up in a tree.

The beaches here are nearly empty, partly due to the season and the 25 knot winds yet this offers a magical space to share together.  The wind rocks you in your hammock.

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We drove onto the ferry to cross into an ancient forest – the oldest tropical forest in the world.  We felt a little under-prepared given the trucks around us with roo bars and exhaust pipes extending above the cabs. I expected to see Mad Max behind the wheel of one of these monsters.

Winding our way along curvy, narrow roads into the hills, the vegetation grew taller and thicker with each kilometer.  Layers of species of various hues and textures created a tapestry of foliage.

Yet danger lurks in the heart of darkness and along the bright lagoons:

So despite the idyllic conditions you need to stay on the alert or some creature from a deep lagoon may snatch you for lunch.

During our lunch break at Whet Cafe Bar [Lot 1 Cape Tribulation Rd, Cape Tribulation], a cassowary walked by. From out front row seats on the porch, I thought it was a pet trained to entertain the tourists.  But no, this was a wild critter moving quickly out of ancient times.  Known to be dangerous with a killer talon, she was given a respectable distance as I grabbed what shots I dared to on the go.

The food was amazing also.  Order Chicken curry if you head this way.

Sydney Opera House

Sydney Opera House

No visit would be complete without a shot of the Opera House. Though beautiful, the story of its construction is sad.  The Danish architect Jorn Utzon, who was forced in 1966 to withdraw as chief architect before completing the interior.  He left Australia with his family and never returned to see his masterpiece.  Jorn Utzon was awarded the Pritzker Prize for Architecture in 2003.

We covered a lot of territory walking through the botanical gardens, out from King’s Cross to Paddington (no bears, oh my!) , past the Rugby and football stadiums and beyond.  (We did not pay $388 to walk up over the bridge superstructure at sunset.)

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The building with the mural was across from one of several cafe stops, @ Cafe Con Leche.     In the Rock neighborhood where we stayed, many of the two story houses with iron balcony railings are being renovated and low income housing lost.  Gentrification hits again.

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Wendy’s Garden in North Sydney is lush and crammed with plants and highlighted with some comic characters. They stand as sentinels along the harbor walk.  The City wanted to reclaim the land from the guerrilla gardeners…but the City lost.

Wendy Whiteley lives in a tower (or rather a large house with a tower) above the community garden. Brett Whiteley painted the harbor scene below before he separated from Wendy after 40 years of marriage.  Though he died, he left a legacy of work that Wendy has managed. His surreal work remains in his Surrey Hills studio along with photos documenting his friendships with Warhol, Bob Dylan and Francis Bacon.

For an entirely different dreamscape experience, at the New South Wales Museum has a large collection of Aboriginal works.  The Spinifex Arts Project Men’s Collaborative piece Watiku Nguru Pulkana stood out since the artists are from the Great Sandy Desert where I worked on a geophysical crew in the early 70’s.   The sharp leaf spinifex was everywhere from dune to dune.  On one vacation I opted out of the flight to Perth, and chose a week by myself camping near some caves.  Along the walls of one cave were several song-lines that included the circular images and dots along wavy lines that this art uses.   Outside the caves were piles of sharpened, flaked scrapers.  As I walked from the caves to my tent, I remember a bird following me, alighting on each tree I passed until I settled into my site.  My crew came for a brief visit (driving several hours on desert tracks) to check up on their crazy crew boss and to make sure I was still alive.

Eubena Nampitjin often collaborated with her husband, Wimmitji Tjapangarti until his eyesight failed.

Check out the difference in her work before and after this collaborative period.