Last days in Perth

Monday, Feb. 7
We get up early and take the bus to the Scarborough Beach. I use Margaret’s bus pass, which makes the expense minimal. The water is very calm this morning and I have a lovely swim. Once I come out, Peter has dip - as he doesn’t like leaving our stuff unguarded. We have the shade-tent, so I don’t get too much sun. After we have our picnic, I have another swim and stretch-out on the towel to dry off. As the afternoon wind picks-up, we return on the bus. No jelly-fish on this coast?!
It is a beautiful day, so I put in a wash at about 2 p.m. When it is done, I do the final load and hang the first. By the time the second load is done, the clothes on the line are dry. After I get the second load hung, we have a visit from Brian and he invites us there for dinner. What a lovely surprise! I do have salad makings in the fridge, so I do a green salad.
Brian and Margaret - same name, different person - are most welcoming and have invited their next-door neighbour, Johnny, as well. We have barbequed-cajun chicken and roasted lamb. What a feast!

Tuesday, Feb. 8. Our last day in Australia & Down-Under.
Brian has kindly offered to drive us to the airplane at 9 p.m. tonight. We spend the day puttering - ironing, cleaning, washing bedding and towels, packing, not without some sadness and apprehension as we have loved our time in Australia and New Zealand and tonight we start an adventure into unknown territory - Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia, Sein Reap (Ankor Wat) in Cambodia, and, finally, a month in Vietnam.
Thanks to the kindness of Margaret Moir, this time in Perth has been like being at home. We have done everything in a relaxed manner. We have had lots of home-cooked meals. We have met some lovely new friends.
Brian arrives at 9 sharp and it is a quick and enjoyable ride to the airport. Our plane is one time and, squeezed in as you must be on a “no-frills” Jet Star flight, at 12:20 a.m. we are airborne for north of the equator.

Pictures from Perth and Margaret River trip

These are a few pictures from our trip to Margaret River and from Perth. I have the Kuala Lumpur post ready to go, but it is too late tonight.
Don’t forget you can make the photos bigger by “clicking” on them. Especially the young girl swimming.

Peter viewing Bunbury from the Rotary lookout.
The almost empty beach at Bunbury.

The jetty at Busselton.

A young girl practicing for the Jetty Swim tomorrow.

The forest between Margaret River and the ocean.

A wool fabric picture of Margaret River area.

Marilyn's new friend in Perth.

A beautiful old tree in downtown Perth.

From Canerra, thru Barrosa Valley to Adelaide

My apology to those of you following the posts, but we have had only scattered access to the Internet recently. In South America it was more readily available. We are now in Perth and we have access, so I'll bring you up to date over the next two days.

Friday, Jan. 21
Before we leave Mildura, we drive to the shore of the Murray River. This is one of the biggest rivers in Australia and it is slowly flooding, but a peak is not expected for another week. At some points the front of the flooded area is 20 kilometres wide. We see the side-paddlewheel river boat, The Rothbury, coming in to dock. I get a good picture as it turns in the swollen river.
We share the driving today. We experience a pot-pourrie of landscape in our short stint: dead-straight road for miles, sagebrush, corn fields, fruit trees and grape vines, rolling hills, desert, and the odd fluffy cloud. On the road we see more dead kangaroo, two dead fox, and a weasel that runs across in front of me and, although I felt nothing, he is either dead or has a very sore tail. At Renmark, we see the first fruit-laden citrus tree.
The Murray River has a steep escarpment on the far side. No flooding there. It turns south at Morgan and we cross it for the last time at Blanchetown as we continue west into the Barossa Valley.
We will stay in Tanunda for two nights so we can visit the vineyards and cellars tomorrow. The room is extremely big and there is a pool with “naturally”-heated water. The downtown is only a kilometre away, so we take a walk. The houses are the typical square-stone, fretwork decorated verandas, products of the late 19th or early 20th centuries. Most have tin (galvanized-steel) roofs with gutters and rain-water tanks connected. Obviously, they do get rain, but have long periods of drought. Everything is very “neat!” The downtown is about four blocks long on the main street. Since getting away from the city and east coast, the towns have begun to look alike. The huge churches are mostly varying Protestant denominations. There is a Presbyterian and an Evangelical Presbyterian one in this town. Quite different than South America.
I have a swim when we return and change into my long “low-cut” Brisbane $15 cotton dress. It is great for dinner-out or to wear to the beach over my bathing suit. And it doesn’t wrinkle in the suitcase. Bonus!
The braised lamb shank I have reserved as they only have one left is tasty, but I prefer the stewed-stuff from N.Z.
The motel owner suggests some wineries we should not miss tomorrow.

The Royal Doulton fountain in Mildura.
The long, straight road.

Another toilet with a frog statue enjoying the sun.

The paddle-wheeler Rothbury.
A typical lunch with the Eski (chilly-bin) on the table.

The local stones used in construction in Tanunda.

The dark green is the width of this hedge! Maybe someday at the back of the 10th tee box.




The Barossa Valley from the lookout.

Saturday, Jan. 22.
The Barossa is a wonderful wine-producing valley. It was actually named “bar rosa” but the locals spelt it incorrectly and so the single “r” and the double “s”. Some of the exported wines include: Jacob’s Creek, Penfolds, Lehmann, and Wolf Blass. Grant Burge and Kellermeister are big in the area. We visit the oldest winery - Bethany - which has vines that are over 100 years old. The sixth generation are the hands-on owners now. I wonder if their kids will keep it going!
Rockford is one of the smaller wineries, but they do export to Vancouver. The valley grows the Grenache grape which is new to me, but then I’m not into much beyond the very ordinary stuff.
At Grant Burge Wines, the lady serving us said she and her husband drove from Vancouver to Calgary last summer. It was obvious by her description that they probably went through Castlegar. Well, of course she remembered it as she was the navigator and she spells it out! This is the first person we have met in our travels who has personally been to our home town.
After visiting cellars of very differing wineries, we return to the first - Bethany - and buy a bottle of shiraz
During the day we go to the Mengler Hill lookout which includes a sculpture park. It looks like the rocks were found right on the hill, but there is no information except a plaque that says there was a sculpture conference here in 2008. From the lookout the whole valley and two towns are visible.
We continue over the hill to Angaston where the mystery of the biking signs along the narrow country roads is solved. There are teams of bikers doing a 30, 50, or 100 km. ride to raise money for Childhood Diabetes Research. Each team must rise $1000 to enter. The ladies I spoke with had grandchildren on one of the teams. They were very proud of the kids.
At the cellars of the wineries, as elsewhere in Australia, there is no charge for tastings - and they will let you try five or even more wines.
After our frivolous expenditure of a $20 bottle of wine, I settle for the left-over of last night’s meal and Peter has a take-out pizza for dinner.


The Eagle.


The naked lady lounging on the top of the benches.


This is the same stone as in the building above.

A sculpture in honour of the hard-working Clydesdales titled A Day Off.

The quarry at the Bethany vineyard which was family income for the family before the grapes.










Kate and Kimberly, our friendly hosts at the cellar at Bethany's.

The Chateau restored at a cost of $5 million.

Sunday, Jan. 23.
We are really on the outskirts of Adelaide, so we leave at our leisure. I drive as we will be only one hour to the city. We realize that the Santos tour down under is in its final day in town today. We hope we are not delayed too badly. As it takes almost as long to get across Adelaide as to reach it, the slight slow-down as we pass the finish-line area, does not cause any problems in our navigation. As we approach Glenelg, the beach area where we are staying, the traffic thickens. Yes, on a Sunday anyone not watching the final stage of the bike race is going to the beach.
Our motel is still in the Golden Chain, but includes a casino, sports bar, off-track betting bar, and a “bottle shop” - the drive-through liquor store. We get the last room available - Peter phoned last week - and have saved $30 a day as we are supposed to be without a sofa. Well, it is still there and is to be picked-up tomorrow.
I finally get to use the sun-tent I bought in North West Rocks. We wander down to the beach and I stay while Peter goes off to find an Internet café. There is a sandbar about 100 feet off shore and the water between is almost as warm as a sauna. Even beyond, the ocean floor is rippled sand and the water is warm. I am, once again, in heaven. I have a nice swim and return to my lean-to and read. Peter arrives and enjoys the “sights” (Australian beauties in bikinis (eat your heard out, golfing buddies) - he has been rating them!) About 4 p.m. we head back and I shower and change before we go Coles market to pick-up some fruit. We are the last ones in as they close at 5 on Sat. & Sun. It has been a lovely day.


The statue: Immigrants, at the Migration Museum.











A building at the museum.

A building at Rundle Mall.

Monday, Jan. 24.
We go to town, dropping off the car on the way. As we have read, the entire downtown is within walking distance, much like the main Vancouver downtown.
We get directions to the zoo and walk by the University (huge) grounds and along the river. Unfortunately, it just seems excessively expensive, especially when we just want to see the pandas which will probably cost extra, so we wander back to the Migration Museum. Like Canada, the country is populated mostly by immigrants. In fact, a class of adult ESL students are touring the museum at the same time as us.
As with most Australian museums, personal stories are the core of how the history is brought to life. This is a tiny museum, but still it takes a good hour to go through. I know it is past noon as I am hungry.
We head for Rundle Mall. Subway is as good as anywhere. After lunch we are stopped by the Caribbean style music and a black man with dreadlocks dancing up a storm. We watch as he engages a young boy in a few dance steps as the accompanying keyboard player and drummer play along. Finally, the pole balanced on two coke bottles becomes the focus of attention, but first - adding to the delight and suspense of the audience - the performer does some back-handsprings, then after hesitation, a standing back-somersault. Great clapping - but everyone is awaiting the limbo. We are not disappointed. I will post some pictures so you will see that he is not a tiny man, but he sure is flexible! Even we, along with many others, leave a tip for this performer.
We walk the couple of blocks to the Art Gallery and the South Australian Museum. We plan to meet in 1 ½ hours. I could have spent longer, but the stuff I see is lovely, mostly South East Asian art and artefacts. A young boy about six is coming through behind me and it is very entertaining to listen to his questions and reactions to the pieces. He says that two of the statues appear very angry. He is right. His mom points out that they are fierce men who are guarding the temple (Vishnu & Indra who guard Buddhist temples).
One extraordinary thing that struck me is a blue card beside a particularly wonderful, and large, painting. On the card are the thoughts of school children about the painting. The children are very insightful. The gist of one comment is: Everyone is dressed in black and daddy is not there. He is dead. Mommy looks sad. The boy looks tired and is leaning on her. The girl is brave and even in the rain she is selling flowers to help the family.
We meet as scheduled and get on the free Loop Bus to do a tour of the perimeter of the downtown. Even in traffic it only takes about 20 minutes. Outside the core is green-space. We get off at North TCE and King William where we can get the Tram to Glenelg. It is rush hour and the tram is jammed. We get all the way with nobody coming to sell us a ticket. Yes, there are free rides at the right time!
The walk to the terminal from the motel is less than 10 minutes. We stop, as usual, at Coles on the way to pick-up supplies. We decide to go to the buffet at the motel restaurant. It has a wonderful variety of food from which I can try lots of “good” food. Unfortunately, the desserts are also great, so I come away waddling, but feeling great. One needs to strike when opportunity presents itself.


The Jamaican performer.

A standing-back-sommersault.

Under the bar with a hair's width to spare.

He was just beginning here.

Tuesday, Jan. 25.
Tomorrow is Australia Day and Coles is advertising a beach set of tank top, short shorts, and flip-flops in the Aussie flag design. On the way to the beach, we stop and I try some on. Peter pretends not to know me as I stand in my bathing suit trying on the pieces. They will be good in Perth and on the beach in Vietnam. We also stop at the I-site and discover that there is a community breakfast on the foreshore for Aussie Day celebrations tomorrow. We will attend.
Peter comes and helps set-up my shade-tent, then goes off to the Internet café. He will return with our lunch (I made earlier) at 1:00. I swim and sun and read. I love being at the beach - just the sound of the waves and the salt water smell. Peter wears his bathing suit when he brings the lunch so we go into the water afterwards. Now he can say he went into the ocean - just. We spend until almost 4 reading and drying off. The clouds have filled the sky and it looks like rain, so we pack-up and return to the motel.
Dinner is left-overs for me and a tuna salad for Peter. Tomorrow is our last day in Adelaide. Staying at Glenelg, by the beach, has been a good move.


The tall condo/hotels on the beach.


My shade tent we bought at South West Rocks.











Camels by the beach at Glenelg.

Mullumbimby to Sydney

Monday, Jan. 3.
With six hours and one day difference in time, it is difficult to phone home. I manage to get Cathy and Lynda, but Douglas is not home and Patrick is who-knows-where in South Africa. With Internet at only $10 a day, we do take advantage. It is nice to hear familiar voices. We will visit Leslie Johansson tomorrow, so that will be nice, also.
We drive south towards Grafton, but detour to the beach at Evans Head. There appears to be nobody around until we reach the shore. The campgrounds are bursting! The beach is reasonably busy, especially where the lifeguards have placed the flags. They like families to stay between the flags in the case of an emergency, they are close at hand. The surf is quite rough, but the water is as glorious as yesterday. I await Peter on the beach while he goes into town to get a drink. I only swim for 20 minutes or so, but it is lots. The undertow is quite evident here. Luckily, no Blue Bottles, but I am still itching from yesterday. I bought some vinegar this morning when we bought groceries, and it does take out much of the sting. I just smell like a Quebec French-fry!
We stop in the Scottish town of Maclean for a picnic lunch. The Clarence River flows by. It is quite wide and, with all the rains they have had and are having in this area, it is quite swollen. I must ask Lesley if the rivers are always brown sludge colour or if it is just during run-off.
We have discovered a motel chain called “Golden Chain”, and have joined their club. They appear, from the two we have stayed at, to be older motels that have been refurbished to a good standard and which are individually owned. We plan to stay whenever possible as the price and the conveniences provided are good.
The Jacaranda Motor Lodge has been here since the 50s. The pool is the kind you used to be allowed to dive into! It is outside of town with farmer’s fields all around. The chain is celebrating 25 Golden Years this 2011.

Tuesday, Jan. 4.
As my welts are more prominent and itchy as hell, we stop at a pharmacy in Grafton. Even the pharmacist gasps when I show her my shoulder and chest. She sells us two kinds of antihistamine (one “knock-out” and one “non-drowsy”) and a topical cream. We hope they will work!
We have a noontime stop at Coff’s Harbour and a walk around the downtown and along the pier. There are people fishing in flowing mud. We stop again at Nambucca Heads as I am out of water and desperately need a drink - I think the medication is dehydrating me. It turns out to be the neatest place. The breakwater is a combination of man-made concrete blocks and huge boulders. Over the years people have been painting on the rocks. Some are quite simple and others very elaborate. One family have been returning to write on “their” rock for more then twenty years. It is graffiti well done.
South West Rocks is about 12 km. from the main highway and we don’t meet many cars on the way in. Unfortunately, they are all already there! The place is jumping. Lesley’s family home is on a main street but only steps away from where the river empties into the sea and two glorious beaches. The one to the south stretches at least five km. What a fabulous place to spend the winter! She and her family have not been in the ocean in the past while as they know about Blue Bottles and heed the warnings, but they cool off in the river water as it makes a lovely pool.
Yesterday, three relatives left Lesley’s place, and today she gains only us. But, besides Lesley and her “dementia-suffering” step-father, there is her sister and brother-in-law, and their daughter with her three children. It is a full house, but a welcoming one. As our last home-cooked meal was the lovely pre-Christmas roast chicken Antigone & Patrick cooked, the smell of ribs roasting is mouth-watering. The whole meal is scrumptious. Afterwards, I take two “powerful” pills and retire quite early for me

Marilyn is happy.


Peter with the Johnston tartan.

Typical public toilet, Maclean.

The Blue Bottle won!

Wednesday, Jan. 5.
This day hardly existed for me. The pills last night kept me awake with the weirdest jerks until about 2 a.m., then I went into a dead sleep. I can hardly arise at 10 a.m. when Peter comes to make sure I am okay. But I am not really. We take a short walk around town and then a drive to the Gaol - old jail - which has been restored. We don’t do the tour as my eyes are sensitive to the light and I just want to sleep. I have a short nap before dinner and awaken feeling quite good. When I show the pills to Jan, Lesley’s sister, she says they are way too strong and gives me some milder antihistamines to take. I feel like I have hardly been here, but am happy we got to visit Lesley, to see her lovely home town and to meet her family. Oh yes, Lesley assures me that the rivers are usually blue, not mud brown.
Melissa and her children live in St. George, one of the cities you may have seen on TV because it is under water. Her personal home is still dry, but she is not sure just when she will be able to get back to it. What a way to spend your summer holidays. We wish her luck.


Lovely beach, lousy weather.

Graffitti rocks

Thursday, Jan. 6.
I get a nice picture of Lesley’s family (and respect her dislike of having her picture taken) and we are on our way south. Our plan is to get away from the coast for a bit, so we choose Taree to spend the night. We do drive in to Port Macquarie for a break and to eat our “famous” Fredo meat pies from Frederickton. They are good, but most home made ones along the way have been just as good. It is amazing what a little prize and a lot of advertising can do for a company.
It is only 2 p.m. when we get into Taree, so we settle and then take the short drive up to Wingham to see this “historic” town and walk through the Brush Nature Reserve. If you stay until about 7 p.m., you can see the thousands of residents leave the trees and fly to the hills to feed for the night. Yes, the load noise overhead as you walk on the slimy wooden walkway is made by the bats that are just waking up from a long days sleep. On the way back from the riverside, I realize the slime is not from mould, but from poop droppings. I put on the hood of my jacket and walk gingerly so as not to fall. There are three variety of bats in the brush, but we can only distinguish the red and the grey. It is the first time I have ever seen bats in the wild.
Oh yes, talking about animals. We have seen two kangaroo and two koala as road kill. This also seems strange as they are supposed to be in zoos. There are warnings posted on the roads where there are large populations of each.
Finally, after three months of travel, we have found a good pizza. It is at el Colosseo in Taree! Peter eats the whole pizza.

Lesley's family.

Bats overhead!

Friday, Jan. 7.
Although we have been doing only little trips each day, Peter has done all the driving. Today he needs a break and I start us off. We are travelling the back roads, and back roads they certainly are. In some areas it seems the population voted for the wrong party as they road is more patch than asphalt. We take what is called the “Bucketts Way”, through Gloucester and then over to Dungog. We have everything from scotch mist to torrential rains. We stop at Maitland for the night. The area is much like the South Island of New Zealand - all up and down around beautiful farmland and lots of trees. Just not the sheep you see in N.Z. We are at the edge of the Hunter Valley which is amass with vineyards.
Not much to do here, so we walk the town centre - more rain - and talk to a real estate agent who will be coming to Canada with his wife and friends to spend a couple of months motorcycling in the Rockies. Our first choice restaurant for dinner is a zoo - so we return and have a little at the motel restaurant. I think the bats yesterday were enough excitement for a while. Tomorrow, we travel into the Hunter Valley - like saying you are going to the Okanagan or Napa. There are 108 vineyards in the listing and we hope to visit the ones that make Malbec wines, only seven. I’m hoping the rain stays away.

Saturday, Jan. 8.
Sun, glorious sun! We awaken to a lovely day and head to the wine country. In all, the first and the last vineyard we visit have the nicest wines - from my point of view. The area is extremely well mapped, and we make a circuit choosing those that grow Malbec. Unfortunately, most use the grapes in a blend, as a sparkling red, or as a base for their port wines. We buy a bottle of a 2006 Shiraz from the Wandin Valley Estate. I wasn’t that fond of their Malbec blend.
The entire valley is green rolling hills. I am the navigator and take Peter to a lookout where you can see nothing through the trees. Further down the hill there is a lovely lookout where we stop. I record the sounds of the cicadas with the video setting on the camera. The sound moves in waves like the wind.
We continue the self-guided tour to four more cellars. We stop at one of the few “eateries” (not posh restaurants) in the area. We meet the guy from the first winery who is picking up lunch. We both order hamburgers because they sound good and are a good price. Wow - what a great choose! A huge hunk of gently cooked - not blackened - beef in an enormous whole wheat spiced bun with lettuce, tomato, beet, feta cheese and olives on mine. This is our meal for today.
We visit the final vineyard against Peter’s best judgement as it is advertised “organic!” Tamburlaine is the only one that makes a pure Malbec, and we buy a bottle. We will save it for a celebratory evening. Yes, it was a little out of our price range but probably normal for some.
We will be moving on to Sydney tomorrow. We are thinking of skipping Melbourne in favour of Canberra and points in the interior. We will contemplate this as we navigate our way around Sydney.
Typical small town buildings.

Peter checking the grapes.

Hunter Valley wine country.

The hamburger from heaven.