Just in case my family ever read this

This blog was set up in the vain hope one day my family might read this.. 

Long after I'm gone, my grand children might stumble across the ancient medium of the internet, which was once a really big deal, and read some of the words I have written about my travels.

It would be my hope that they know how much I loved them. How much their laughter brought joy to my ears and how much love their smiles brought to my heart.

I would want them to know that I thought of them, every day of each of my journeys in the world. Every day, I would gaze at new scenery that I wished I could share with them. I yearned to take a photo so real that the love in that very moment could be conveyed to them when I returned. Every moment of my life in the world I wished they could share these moments with me. 

It is my life long wish that I get to take an overseas trip with each and everyone of the kids, alone, just the two of us. To show them that adventure awaits just around the corner. To show them that the real world is so easily within reach. To show them that each and every culture has something to teach us. To show them my wish for them to see the world and all it's beauty. 

To show them I love them. 

And that I will walk every step of their lives with them. Forever. 

A day in the country

Hugo is home from work for the week and decides to head out for a picnic.

Beautiful sunny day, crisp morning, so we set out, coffee in hand towards Springsure. Dodging Victorian plated caravans wobbling across all lanes of the road, we finally pass their designated stop at Virgin Rock and continue to head into town. 

Turning west onto the Tambo Road, we now find ourselves in un-chartered country, just the way Hugo likes it. One would think he would get his fill of wide open spaces whilst at work in Western NSW, but apparently not.

We pass herds of cattle, well fed and healthy, looking up at us as though we are merely an inconvenience to their planned day of eating. Onward onto dirt road, punctuated by sandy crossings and huge rocky sections that sneak up when least expected.

We pull up to check out the old wagon crossings, and find it difficult to imagine life in the 1800's, men and horse cutting their way through the virgin ironbark to create a wagon track west to the Barcoo. It's tough country, harsh and hot, and I can only imagine the hardships these men would have endured way back then.

Passing through many varying vistas, ironbark forests, to wide open spaces, to fern gullies and low lying salt pans. Every 5 kilometres the countryside changes, each incredibly beautiful in its original state. 

We're now in the country, the real country Qld, marked by the two finger lift from the steering wheel of passing vehicles, or a nod of the Akubra from the man on horseback. It's almost pristine, aside from the Coke can we see thrown from the window of a passing truck.

Watching, as it bounces frantically along the potholed track, I feel sad, annoyed that this one shiny tube of aluminium has sullied the whole land before me. The presence of this bright red can on the dusty dirt track is out of place, and part of me feels let down, as if global marketing is present even in places most unexpected. I feel the gentleness of the land, the skill in which the station hands tend the soil and raise their cattle, is being undermined by the global companies looking to make their corporate mark in all corners of the globe. The trees are covered with Anti-Mining signs, a token of the fight against more destruction of this land by the global companies looking to make a buck, without a thought for the longevity of nature, as we know it.

Finally, we make it to the fork in the road, a monument to Major Mitchell and his party who roamed this land looking for an inland route from Sydney to Darwin. The ground is littered with tissues and the remnants of recent campfires, making me wonder if this campground must be listed in the Free Camp Qld Guide, the bible to all newbie Caravanners, as I am sure the local stockmen wouldn't leave their toilet waste laying about as such. 

It's another 55 kilometres till we reach Salvatore Rosa, a beautiful sandstone section of the Canarvon National Park. We cut through private property, with incredible coloured cliffs and sandy gullies. The drive is superb, minimal traffic, healthy cattle along the roadsides and not a cloud in the sky.

As we pass along the banks of the Nogoa River, we cut through the dry salt lake and onto the camp grounds. There is toilet facilities and the camping area is well kept, primitive but clean and tidy. 

We take the water crossing through the Nogoa, the water is cool and clear, having its origins just a few kilometres upstream from here.  Passing by Spyglass Peak, we decide to have a walk around and see if we can climb this huge monolith. Rising up out of the sand like a concrete coloured Uluru, it's a mind blowing experience. One minute the track is sand, the next it is blocked by a huge hill rising up from nothing. I would love to be here at dusk or dawn, the photos would be incredible.

Further on down the track, we stop for our picnic lunch at the start of the Nogoa. Louisa Creek and Belinda Springs. The water passes through underground springs and peat moss till it finally pops out near Louisa Creek and becomes the Nogoa. It's so quiet, relaxing, a perfect spot for a break and a walk along the creek. The only sounds are from the birds and the bright orange dragonflies that are buzzing about the wild flowers along side the table.

Quietly reflecting on what a wonderfully lucky life I lead now, and thanking my lucky stars I am well enough to enjoy bush walking, rock climbing, I finish lunch and find a set of steep steps leading to the rivers edge. The water is as clear and as clean as the water from my kitchen tap. I can see the bottom of the river and as Hugo leans downs to check the temperature of the water, I briefly contemplate a swim. The water is freezing, having just come up from underground, through the ferns and peat moss, the sun has yet had the opportunity to warm the water. 

We drive on past the large expanse of Major Mitchell Springs, an enormous water course of bird life and plants. It was near here that Major Mitchell and his party created yards, three sides being of rocky hillside and the other fenced near the water. You can still see remainders of the old fences and wire in this area, as well as marks carved into the rocks.

This is a beautiful area to experience nature. The many changes faces of the farm land, to the pristine fern gully of Belinda Springs. We climbed and walked over 15 kilometres today, and enjoyed very moment of it. 

Turning for home, we decided to take the long road home via Tambo, for no other reason than we'd never been there, it's a long bumpy unsealed ride, and we reach there at 6pm. We bought an ice cream whilst we refueled and watched the kangaroos come in to graze on the banks of the town water supply on dusk. A female truck driver is down on the grass beside the local monument, doing abdominal crunches in her blue singlet and stubble shorts. Deciding against asking if I could take her photo, I felt a tiny bit guilty eating my Magnum Ego, caramel dripping down my chin, whilst watching her jump down from the Kenworth to do her daily exercise.  

We turn and head for home, along dusty road toward Alpha. The sunset is so clear, bright vivid colours that are only ever seen in the outback lands of this amazing country. Kangaroos and cattle graze alongside the road, seemingly dazed by the headlights, happy to munch the grass and watch us, as we drive right by. 

It's been a long day as we arrive home safely at 9.30pm. 13 and a half hours after we left home for a picnic lunch. Silently,  I wish I could pack the swag and head back into the countryside to sleep under the stars, and awake to watch the sun rise over the beautiful hills of Salvatore Rosa. But it's Anzac Eve, and a 4 am start tomorrow to celebrate the Dawn Service. 

Lest We Forget 

Easter in Brisbane

So, I'm writing this from the Emerald City, sitting on my deck in the sunshine with a cup of tea, pondering where on earth I would ever start to convey the last fortnight I've spent in Brisbane.

It was a cultural visit this time, punctuated with newly discovered coffee shops and sporting events. A varied and enjoyable break over the Easter period. 

I arrived down Wednesday night, after driving down in the ute. Taking the inland route and stopping along the way to chat and talk to other travellers. A leisurely drive which I enjoyed. 

Thursday I waited home all day for the Telco to arrive within their allotted time, which of course they didn't. The company gave me a 5 hour window in which to wait, seems fair, but then to be another 4 hours late... GRRRR, I was getting annoyed because I was to do my pre Easter shopping on Thursday and here it was 5pm and they still hadn't showed up. Finally a knock on the door, and I opened it to a wet, bedraggled redhead. He looked beaten, demoralised and exhausted. I let him on with a smile, and he proceeded to connect our ADSL. Luckily we were his last job prior to his Easter break, and he left happy in the knowledge he had 5 days RnR coming up.

Thursday's waiting continued for me, as I spent 2 hours waiting at the Airport Service centre for Hugo's flight to arrive, having been delayed by bad weather, and then another 1 hour 50 minutes waiting in traffic to actually collect him. My patience had worn thin by that time, and unfortunately for Hugo, his homecoming was frosty.

Friday saw the weather turn a little with rain overnight and an overcast day. Hugo and I, along with two of the Brisbane dwelling children set out on an adventure to Mt Cootha and Toowong Cemetery. Amidst short bursts of rain and intermittent sunshine, we wandered our way through the 120 000 graves at Toowong. Time was quickly passing and we moved onto Lunch, vowing to call again another day to complete our investigations at the cemetery. It's an interesting place, I've never seen a cemetery on a hill before, and certainly never one of this magnitude.

Lunch at Bardon, a randomly chosen Fish n Chip shop, open and cheerfully serving the passing Good Friday parade. Suitably nourished, it was off to battle the traffic to the airport to collect Cate. Cate had flown down from the country to spend the Easter break with us in the city. First stop,  at her request was Eat Street Markets, where we spent the evening, wandering through stalls, sampling the wares, and people watching. Beautiful cool night, fabulous food and festive atmosphere made for a great end to a long day.

Saturday saw the sun rise as we wandered up the street to Carseldine Market for breakfast. Having Cate here for just a few days it was hard to fit everything on her To Do list in, but we gave it our best shot. From here she left Hugo and I,  to spend the rest of her day shopping at Chermside and we headed to meet some old friends for lunch. After a few hours of laughing and chatting, Hugo and I made it home in time to drop the kids to a party out west. Deciding to make the most of some much needed quiet time, we found ourselves at the waterfront, looking for signs of the impending lunar eclipse amongst the clouds. Dinner whilst dipping our toes in the water and quietly enjoying each other's company. Almost simultaneously, we both start a conversation outlining our good fortune at having met each other at this stage of life. 

Easter Sunday saw the 5 of us planning to head to the city. Hugo and I left early, and left the kids to their own devices. We found out of the way coffee shops, visited the State Library, the Gallery of Modern Art and Southbank. We stopped for drinks at Lock n Load in West End and shared great food and laughs along the way. I love the vibe of West End, even on Easter Sunday, the place has an aura of cool. Of being able to wear tie dye and running shoes, of dreadlocks and a business suit, of no style is my style.

I could live here.

Easter Monday came and Cate prepared to head home. After a few fun filled days it was a bit hard to drop her back to the airport, I love exploring the city with her, she has an endless enthusiasm for all things new.. Makes me see the world through teenage eyes again. After a final brunch at her favourite Crepe Cafe, we made our way across town to the airport for our final farewells.

Tuesday arrived and saw reality hit us again.. Off to the city to the accountants. To be reminded of the reality of life and making an income that will sustain our thirst for all things new. Lunch and coffee somewhere different again, finding new favourite haunts is our speciality these days.

Hugo's days off have come to an end, and sadly we make the journey back to the airport again. Fly out day is shit. Both of us become quiet and reserved, thinking once more about the time that we spend away from each other. To cause a distraction, we called into Nundah village and spent a few hours wandering about coffee shops, and local organic food stores to pass the time. I can recommend Slightly twisted Cafe in Nundah Village, run by two old friends of mine, a great place to while away an hour or two. 

Wednesday afternoon saw me catch up with two ex Dysart people, girls who have left town and made a whole new life for themselves. Really odd how the universe has such different ideas for each of us, sending us spinning into lives so far removed from the past. 

Thursday I spent laughing and catching up with more old friends, precious friends who have become part of the fabric of our family, accidentally but oh so importantly. Brandi was showing off her no sugar cooking skills, and I must admit she did so in spectacular fashion. Food great, friendship better.

Friday, back off to the city to the accountants and to locate yet another coffee shop I'd heard about. James Wills Himself. Down a lane way off Elizabeth street. Funky interior inside a semi converted bunker. Great little hideout and one I will visit again. Friday night was Boundary Street Markets in West End, complete with reggae bands, elvis impersonators, Vintage clothes and jewellery and yet more fabulous food.

Saturday finally arrived and off to the Farmers market again for breakfast. Having the option of so many different foods to sample is a draw card I can't resist. A light breakfast before walking to the station to catch a bus to the city. State library it is today for me. A writers forum at 11am. I'm in town in plenty of time to catch the brass band playing military music in recognition of the Anzac Centenary Displays at the Library.

Satursday morning-  Enjoying a coffee in the gardens of the library, overlooking the Brisbane river, listening to a brass band... How on earth did my life get here? What lucky star did I catch to be able to experience this? How bloody lucky am I? Sitting in the sun, soaking up all this culture, I silently give thanks to whom ever helped me get to this point in life.

Writers forum saw me meeting the creator of Scum Magazine, the owner of Tiny Owl Press, and the founder of The Lifted Brow. Wow. Some fine minds here in this room. The talks gave me yet another idea to implement when I get back home. After a quick chat with Sue Wright regarding a possible project opportunity, it was off to catch my lift to the Gold Coast.

Metricon Stadium here I come.. Watching the girls teams play Lions vs GCS. it was a hard couple of quarters before the Suns found their feet and ran rings around the Lions team. Stayed to watch the Main Game, but St Kilda ran away with the game, and it proved to be far less interesting that the girls game prior.

Sunday arrives quickly, up early, wages, invoicing, filing, all things administrative before brunch at the cafe nearest to us.. I have been hesitant to try it, as I've read bad reviews on urban spoon about the coffee, but the food was delicious, fresh healthy options and friendly service.. I passed on the coffee, settling on a pot of tea, the kids had juice and milk shakes and both were enormous. A mid afternoon drive to Ashgrove and Petrie rounded out the week nicely.

The evening was spent packing up ready for the long drive home tomorrow. I'm not looking forward to it at all. 

See ya Brisbane, it's been much fun.

 

Solo Road Tripping

It's Easter time which means its the perfect time for a Great Aussie Road Trip.

Usually Easter at our home is a big deal. The Easter Tree is put up and decorated with eggs and choc carrots and iced bunnies. The arrowroot biscuits are iced in bright colours, with names, with dots and chevrons and coloured sprinkles. The gaudier, the better. 

This year will be the first year ever, we aren't all together as a family. We have 4 kids heading to Airlie to jump out of a plane, and the baby flying down to the big smoke for the weekend, shopping. Rather than staying home alone, with the chocolate, I decided on a solo road trip to Brisbane, taking the inland route. Like Beyond the Black Stump, inland. 

I set off early, and watched the beautiful sun rise as I drove toward the east. I saw family cars packed with camping gear and bikes, and I smiled knowingly at the already weary young Mum, wishing I could stop and hug her, remind her what a great job she's doing making memories for her kids. 

I saw DIDO workers rushing to get home for Easter, wobbling from side to side of the road with fatigue, stopping each 50 kilometres to smoke and drink coffee, fooling themselves that the caffeine is the magic ingredient to making it home in one piece. I prayed to any force I know, to help these people arrive at their chosen destination safely.

I saw drenched, Stop/Go workers standing in the rain, directing traffic around the reconstruction and roadside tree lopping, each looking longingly at the stream of cars passing them by. I could almost feel their desperation to be anywhere else than on the side of the muddy road, I could almost see their daydreams of the beach and a cold beer. I gave the obligatory 2 finger wave and silently said a prayer for their shift to end tonight and see them heading home to their loved ones. 

I found a old school radio station that played songs from the 80's and I stopped on the side of a country road to cry after three songs in a row reminded me of my best friend Ag, who's now been gone 4 years.Brian Cadd, Anne Murray played first, but it was Jackson Browne's "Stay" that tipped me over the edge and demanded I pull up for ten minutes. 

You know how some people pop into your life and then seem to inhabit every moment afterwards? That was Ag. She was not only larger than life, she was longer than life. Her presence is still felt, in the music, in my everyday speech, in my learned ability to find the funny side of most situation. I miss her. 

I ordered weak watery coffee from a smiling, young backpacker at a service station and was well over charged for it as usual, but the break was welcomed for the opportunity to stretch some muscles, sore from the previous nights exercise class. This trip is in the new ute, I'm bringing home some plants from Brisbane, and I can assure you, this ride is no where near as comfortable as the Chrysler.. The pedometer I wear on my wrist is telling me I have completed more than 10 000 steps today, so that's an indication of how rough the journey is in this vehicle. The roads have been badly damaged by the water and floods of the last Cyclone, and the stress I'm feeling in my shoulders is testament to that.. Lol, all my flying about is making me soft. 

I pushed on towards Monto, where I stumbled across a photography display of photos from the 50's to the 70's. I got talking to an older man  known locally as Spook, who, incredibly was the photographer. He is 86, and the most interesting person to talk to. He is still very passionate about photography and the true essence of film based photography. Spook, Liz and Lyn, were spending the morning scanning and cataloging his photos, to enable them to be stored digitally.  It is a huge job, and made necessary after a flood ruined a large proportion of his collection a year or two ago. Wonderfully genuine country people, if ever you are passing Monto on a Wednesday morning, stop and check out his work. it's one of those hidden gems that you leave feeling like your soul has been somehow enriched from the experience. 

Feeling rejuvenated, I drove on towards Kilkevan, the recent winner of the Small Town Culture Competiiton. With only 678 residents, it was up against some stiff competition from Clermont, but Kilkevan won. I'm secretly glad. Kilkevan has an aura of small town charm, it's quiet streets provide a serenity to the weary traveller. The German strudel and coffee shop was open, and doing a roaring trade, but I resisted and moved on toward a rain soaked Brisbane. 

I witnessed quite a number of close calls and saw the result of a single car and caravan rollover. The caravan was no taller than a Suzuki Swift by the time it was lifted onto the flat bed hired to remove the highways debris. The remnants of this mans life strewn across the lanes of the highways, served to remind all, to slow down and take much more care on the wet slippery roads.

Finally, my exit loomed upon me and I made the transition into the left lane. I had made it. It took me 11 hours to drive between our two homes. 11 hours of 80's music, bad roads, rain, and speeding erratic drivers. 11 hours to think, sing and remember those people I miss. 11 hours to practise my next public speaking event, refine my affirmations and to set new personal goals. Spending that much time alone with your thoughts is an incredibly empowering time, and I've emerged with a new found strength of spirit and reinforced knowledge that we aren't here forever. Time to make the most of the days I have left.

All in all 11 hours of my life pretty well spent, and my pedometer recorded 16347 steps whilst driving. Lol. 

Winning!!