WA road trip 2011 - days 6 to 8

With the sun deigning to make a return, and the canvas sealant applied, we were able to pack up a dry tent on day 6. That day we went as far as a little seaside village called Cervantes.
We just overnighted there - and enjoyed a bargain seafood platter at the local bowling club thanks to a voucher from the caravan park. Honestly, where would this country be without its bowling clubs?
From there Paul and I made a quick trip into a mad little pocket of coastal land called The Pinnacles. It's a funny little mini-desert, virtually right on the coast, and completely dotted with small rock formations rising out of the ground. Quite intriguing. And as I was feeling very lazy-bonesy that morning, I was delighted to learn you could drive through it, instead of having to walk. Hurrah! (You can walk through it too, if you're feeling even remotely energetic.)

Various shots of the Pinnacles. See, I didn't just sit in the car the whole way.

At one point we advised a gent on his camera, who wanted to know whether megabytes or gigabytes were bigger.
The road from there took us north, toward Geraldton and through beautiful lush farmland. Until, just south of Geraldton, we found a gorgeous stretch of beach and decided to make it home for the following few days.
We were happy with it, anyway. I can't say the same for the fish that ended up in our bellies. Other campers who came along and discovered we'd nabbed the best spot may not have been quite as impressed, either.
We'd been on the move almost every day since leaving home and it was finally time to kick back in one spot for a while. And kick back we did. There were walks along the beach, a brief, ankle-deep paddle in the wintry Indian Ocean, drinks as the sun went down over the water, fishing expeditions and morning sleep-ins.
I made a dent in the stack of magazines that had been building up at home and I'd bought along. I baked a cake. And, with the smidge of network coverage available, I even caught up on a couple of emails.
The most arduous part was trudging through the thick sand to get anywhere. Well, it was until our final night there. Then circumstances became decidedly more arduous...

Beautiful Flat Rock beach. Photos courtesy of my mother. Thanks Mum.
The orange tent is ours. No idea who the surfer is - quite a few turned up during the weekend we were there.

To be continued...

WA road trip: days 4 and 5. Part II

Once back in New Norcia, where we spent our fifth night, Mum and I trotted off to photograph what has to be one of the country's most photogenic towns, and Paul and Dad got to it with applying the sealant to the roof of our tent. (I'll fill you in on the success, or otherwise, of the exercise later. Suffice to say, it was not the last damp night of the trip.)

Inside one of New Norcia's glorious
churches (above and below)

Photographing this amazing place wasn't enough, so the Thursday morning we joined a guided tour of the town.
As a fact generally only stays in my head for as long as it takes for another one to enter, I don't recall 100 per cent of the info our guide imparted. Some of the more interesting bits I do remember include:
* New Norcia is Australia's only monastic town. It was created by Spain's St Benedictine monks.
* currently eight monks live there. They employ about 70 people.
* miracles involving bush fires and an angry Aboriginal man come in handy when you're a band of pioneering, missionary monks working to convert the local indigenous population.
* the early monks didn't agree with the government-appointed term of 'orphanage' for their home for Aboriginal children, as many of the children did have families living in the area.
* the monks have to get up before 5am six days of the week (meaning I shouldn't complain about having to do it nine days of the fortnight).
* but they get to maintain the Spanish tradition of an afternoon siesta (which I do not).

I cannot express just how amazing this town is. If you ever go to Perth, make sure you get up there for a look.

Some more photos:

Coming up: we head to the beach!

WA road trip 2011 - days 4 and 5. Part 1

Right, so I managed a whopping one holiday post while on holidays. Whoops. Click here if you'd like to read it. This one follows on from it.

Have you ever been camping in a leaky tent? Yes? No?
Nor had I, until this road trip.
I had once spent a wet weekend camping when someone, who shall remain nameless but whose initials are Paul Mayall, decided we didn't need the tent. And subsequently got dripped on all night thanks to a leaky tarp hastily erected over our swag.
But I'd never had a tent leak on me. Not even when the most ferocious thunder and rain storm I've ever seen cracked open over us while in Kakadu late last year.
The same tent that survived the Kakadu downpour decided enough was enough this time, and began to leak on night three of the holiday. We were not impressed. Though there was a couple of saving graces - we noticed before we even got the swag unrolled (putting a tent up in the driving rain is handy that way), and we had just enough room in my parents' camper to sleep.
We were near a place called Bindoon that night, and were on our way to Perth for the Wicked musical/show.
So, luckily, we did sleep warm and dry, and were able to book into a cabin for our night in Perth. Where it continued to rain intermittently, I might add.
Mum and I saw the show and loved it. If you didn't get around to seeing it, give yourself a smack. It was worth it.
First port of call the following morning, on our way out of the city and back to the fascinating monastic town of New Norcia, was BCF (Paul's second favourite place ever, after Bunnings) for some canvas sealant.
Second port of call, and almost as important, was morning tea at the Margaret River Chocolate Factory near Midland. If you're ever in that area and are even a mild chocoholic (though I have my doubts that mild chocoholics actually exist), make sure you visit this place. Beautiful chocolate, a huge range, and the best hot mocha Paul says he's had in years. Dad gives the thumbs up to their ice cream, too.

The front of the boys school at the
monastic town of New Norcia.

Some more photos of New Norcia (exteriors. Stay tuned for pics of the insides of these beautiful buildings).

To be continued...

Road trip 2011 - Days one to three

Regular readers will know we are on long-awaited holidays. For this holiday we're on a road trip with my parents. Internet service has been patchy, so here is a brief rundown on days one to three.
We traveled from Coolgardie to Bindoon, just south of New Norcia.

Beringbooding Rock

Sights include Karalee Dam, Elachbutting Rock (any advice on how to pronounce it would be welcomed), Beringbooding Rock and a brief stop in New Norcia - we will return to explore it properly.
The landscape has morphed from scrubby red desert, to blackened burnt-out desert to languid, stretching farmland vivid with green and yellow crops.
Almost every mile features wildflowers in shades of pink, white, yellow and purple peeking out from the undergrowth, refusing to let the wattle steal the show.
We encountered one wildly windy, dark night with bursts of rain, and one frigid but peaceful, moonlit night.
We have also:
* had a minor mishap with our brakes (resolved).
* had a mishap with with Mum's SLR camera (not yet completely resolved)
* dined with 20 gazillion flies.
* developed a system where after each trip to the campground facilities you report on the state of the toilet paper roll, for the benefit of the next person paying it a visit
* retrieved the kettle from the fire. Twice.
* found a pocket of vegetation atop Elachbutting Rock that was like coming across a secret garden on the rooftop of the world.
* sat back and drunk the requisite number cups of coffee and glasses of wine stipulated in Holidays 101.

Happy hour. Paul gives it the double thumbs up,
so you know it has to be good.

Canola fields.

Elachbutting Rock.

We are actually on day four now, and are at Perth. Tonight we will be in the audience of Wicked the musical. Well, Mum and I will be; the guys don't really go for "that kind of dancey, la-la caper" quality entertainment.

Here is a quick slideshow of some photos taken so far:



And a couple of brief videos. Which aren't all that interesting and were only recorded because I wanted to play with my iPad.






Coming soon: Day four to whenever I get to do another update

< Previous post: Taking a break. But hopefully not a bloggy break

Taking a break. But hopefully not a bloggy break

Image from here

At long last, I'm about to go on holidays. OK, so I had a holiday last September-October. And it was a pretty big one. (You can read about it here, here, here and here.) Nor have I exactly been been worked to the bone since. But it sounds better saying it like that. Because after months of the blasted, blaring alarm blasting and blaring at 4.40am, it feels like this has been a long time coming.
So, the Desert Rambler will finally do some desert rambling. And a bit of beach rambling. Even a tiny slice of city rambling.
I'm not sure yet what it means for this blog for the following couple of weeks. We'll be traveling through the region between Perth and Kalgoorlie and I've no idea what internet service I'll have. So, while I hope to use my days away from this thing they call work to write some drafts, things might go a bit quiet around here in the interim.
There is one thing you can expect: lots of photos. I love taking photos. My parents are traveling with us and they also are fond of taking a snap or six thousand. So much so that Mum has joined a camera club - and I fully intend to appropriate borrow some of hers to pretty up my posts here.
So be prepared for many, many pics, uploaded either during the trip or once we're back in civilisation.
Which leaves me with just one more thing to say for now:

 - I'm. ON. HOLIDAAAAAYYYZZZ!! (Yes, mispelling this word goes against my grain, but what the hell, I'm on holidays. I don't care about mangled English).

< Previous post: Wordless Wednesday - I'm a wildflower

Wordless Wednesday - I'm a Wildflower

All of a sudden wildflowers are everywhere.

The trip into town is like driving through a garden.

It's still bloody cold though. Grrr.

Linking up with Trish from My Little Drummer Boys again for Wordless Wednesday. 

Thanks Trish!

< Previous post: Some days, most days... Featuring chocolate and overly snug pants

To tattoo or not to tattoo. Have you?

Extreme full-head tattoo, nicely (perhaps ironically?)
accessorised with a conservative tie.
Image source: http://www.ultimatetattooexpo.com/

There is a certain something I lack. Something that not everyone, but many others, do have. I would see these folk out and about with theirs and think "Am I a little odd, backward even, to not possess such an item". The item in question being a tattoo.
Then I moved to Coolgardie/Kalgoorlie and my nakedness really stuck out like the proverbial, ahem, canine appendages.
Here it appears so uncommon to be uninked it puts me on the verge of freak territory. I'd guess there are more tattoos here than there are people.
I did a quick yet highly scientific survey while in the main street one recent afternoon and spied six separate tattoos over a total of eight men, three over a total of six women and one dog with its ruff area shaved and 'Freo Rulz' inked there. (Yes I made that last bit up, but people do love their tats around here. As well as football and mangled English, so it's entirely possible such a dog exists).
And that was just the ones visible on a mild May day.
I don't have an aversion to tattoos - or needles - but have never felt the urge to get one. In my mother's words, "they just don't appeal to me".
Excepting tattoos that form part of the owner's ethnic culture, for instance Maori tattoos, I've always viewed them as an expression of a kind of hardcore, rocker culture. So, and maybe it's the purist streak in me, but I think a tattoo should either stick to those origins or represent some other deeply important part of the owner's identity they wish to express. I can't help thinking that anything else is just a tacky tattoo gained for the sake of getting a tattoo.
My sister-in-law, for example, has several of what I'd describe as the above-mentioned rock-chick genre. Not everyone could pull them off but they look great on her because they suit her rock music-loving, live-life-loud-and-full personality.
Whenever I had that 'I don't think I'd like to get a tattoo because what the hell would I get' conversation people said 'oh, you could get a nice flower, or a sun or dolphin or something'. Which, despite their good intentions, makes me want to gag.
I do like flowers. But not enough to stamp one on me. The fake ones I stick in vases around my house is enough flower-tackiness for one person.
The sun is lovely, I'll give you that. But I'm not exactly sunny myself.
As for dolphins, they're very nice swimming about in the sea but I don't feel a resounding connection to them.
So, I believe I'll remain ink-free for the foreseeable future.
Now, there is something about tattoos that sparks my curiosity. And that is the craze for ones declaring the name, and sometimes birthdate, of one's progeny. Given countless generations of parents experienced the wonders of parenthood without accompanying tattoos, what is so compelling about them now? Can anyone fill me in?

So, what about you? Do you have any tattoos, and if so, what is their significance to you? Do you plan to get one, or add to your collection? Or are you someone who's changed their mind and had ink removed?

Paradise lost? Not exactly

Today we headed out of town and took our two dogs for a bit of a frolic through a local nature area. It's one of the simple joys of life and we do it whenever we can.
This used to be our favourite place to take them:

And this is where we went today:

Alas, the first picture was taken when we lived in paradise. AKA tropical Far North Queensland. Sea and reef on one side of you, rainforest on the other.
We now live in Coolgardie, WA. Desert on one side of you. And - surprise! - more desert on the other side.
With the possible exception of Siberia, it would be hard to find a place more different from Cairns than the Coolgardie (I should point out it's in the Kalgoorlie region, because most people have never heard of Coolgardie. I know, how weird is that?).
Even the threats to life and limb differ. While at the beach we'd be on the lookout mainly for stinging sea creatures (of both the deadly and merely agonising-but-you'll-live variety) but also had to be wary of stepping on a crab or stonefish and, if near a river, of running into a crocodile.
Here, dangers include snakes, baits laid for wild dogs, falling down old mine shafts and the very real likelihood of choking to death on a fly or 20. People are not kidding, or even exaggerating, when they say WA is home to a schmillion billion flies, with all but about six of them looking to take up residence in your eyes and mouth.
Now, it's very easy to fall under the spell of tropical Queensland. I loved it more than I had loved any other place. But this little corner of WA I've now found myself in also has it's own beauty. It's there in the endless, captivatingly red dirt, the rich afternoon light and the big, wide sky.
And, for all the glaring differences between here and there, it seems the magic of each springs from the same source: the sense that neither landscape can really be tamed.
The sheer lushness and vitality of the tropic's rainforest simply over-runs any attempt at control that isn't sustained. Out here, the desert is silently defiant. Its harshness will, given time, overcome all but the most resolute efforts to make life softer.
Except for the flies. I doubt anything short of apocolypse could move them.

What do you love - or hate - about where you live?

Sun! Surf! Sand! Was mucho excitement on days like these.

Even here, there is still sun, sand (the red sort) and
great excitement.