Taiwan Part 2: Earthquake(s)!

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I know many of you think I write these in real time but I don’t. Thank you all those who have messaged hoping I’m not still there, or betting I’m glad not to be!

I’ve been home for two weeks now so I am not clutching my pearls worrying about aftershocks. But I am shocked by yesterday’s events. Even though I am well gone, for some reason if feels like a close call. Hualien, the town with the tilting buildings you see on repeat on the news, is the town that services Taroko Gorge, the beautiful National Park I enjoy the most in my Taiwan travels. It is naive to hope the gorge isn’t damaged, but I suspect with the epicentre so close there is significant rockfall. Those of you who follow my Instagram will know I feel a dickhead wearing a safety helmet on the Swallow Grotto Trail walk, but I just now read this on CNN “All the deaths were in Hualien County, among them three hikers killed by falling rocks in the tourist hotspot Taroko Gorge, the NFA said. Falling rocks also killed a truck driver in front of a tunnel on the east coast’s Suhua Highway“. I don’t feel quite so much of a dickhead now, though I suspect a helmet would be no match for a car sized boulder on the head.

Without a helmet on a Taroko Gorge trail
I hope the Temple of the Eternal Spring is still eternal

I head down the east coast to Taroko Gorge/Hualien after my first few days in Taipei. I can’t emphasise enough how steep and rocky this part of Taiwan is. Travelling along the coast we go through countless tunnels, many of them several kilometres long. The coast road is precipitous, plunging straight down into the Philippine Sea. Richard, my guide, tells me that several years ago a landslide hit a bus full on Chinese tourists and swept it into the ocean and they never recovered anyone or anything, not even a door handle. It gets deep very quickly.

The coast road south from Taipei to Hualien

It’s a surprise to learn there are almost 300 hundred peaks over 3,000 metres, mostly covered in dense forest. As we leave the lower parts of Taroko and head inland and up, the drive is unnerving: mountain mist shrouds the valleys and it is difficult to see further than a few metres ahead. When we do emerge above the clouds, it’s spectacular – not to mention a relief – as Taiwanese drivers mistake a Sunday drive for a kamikaze mission.

What I fail to understand, however, is why, when we are back in another cloud at the top of the pass, where it’s 0 degrees and there’s frost coating the bushes, people are out taking photos of each other and the mist.

If, when you watch yesterday’s earthquake footage, you wonder why the Taipei 101 tower doesn’t sway, I can explain. At 508m tall it offers stunning views over Taipei and the surrounding area, but even more interesting (especially yesterday) is the Damper Ball. This is a giant golden ball suspended between the 87th and 92nd floors: it weighs 660 tonnes – more than 100 African elephants, but I guess a big ball is easier to manage than 100 elephants – imagine cleaning up after them. The damper acts as a giant pendulum and stabilises the tower in very high winds, or earthquakes. How cool would it be to have been up there to see it in action?

As I say, I am safely home now. However when I checked in to my Taipei hotel for the final couple of days following my trip south, it amuses me to see a multi language leaflet with the title “What to do in an Earthquake”. The very next day I feel the telltale sway and a quick google tells me it was magnitude 4.5, enough to freak out tourists who don’t live in an earthquake zone, but barely a ripple for me. I guess I’m lucky it wasn’t yesterday – even I might have had to Drop, Cover, and Hold.

Screenshot

Taiwan Part One: no caravanning involved

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I realise I’m out of practice with this long haul travelling lark as I try to enter Taipei through the Residents Only line. It’s even more obvious as I pile into an airport taxi and have an immediate heart attack as I can’t find my phone, which has my credit card, bank card, and drivers licence. I’m in Taiwan with just my passport and about $200 in local cash.  

Stop! I shout at the driver. Poor man lurches to the curb and I gesticulate for him to open the boot so I can check my bags. This is ridiculous. Only seconds earlier I send a text announcing my safe arrival. My rational mind knows the phone is in the car, but my lizard brain has left the building. As panic threatens to overwhelm me, I see the phone in the footwell of the car. For God’s sake woman, get your shit together. 

It takes little time to get a feel for the city and find my way around. The MRT (metro) is cheap, most trips around central Taipei cost no more than $20 Taiwan, so just over $NZ1.00; clean: no graffiti, litter, or beggars; orderly: everyone lines up at the barrier to board, giving disembarking passengers room to exit; quiet: there are messages reminding passengers to use headphones and speak quietly; and fast. It is quite a change from New York or London or other big city metros where you are in a noisy, grubby human pinball machine being eyed by people who look like they forgot to take their meds.

I kick off my visit with a three hour walking tour of the historic part of Taipei and around the political/Governmental district, which includes the imposing Chang Kai Shek Memorial Hall. It’s a stunning site with curved blue tiles on the roof and slanted cream walls. Looking from the top of the 89 steps leading to the hall (he lived to 89) you see extensive gardens and a huge square. The National Theatre flanks one side, the National Concert Hall the other. Inside the cavernous hall is the “Great Man”, sitting with his arms on the chair arms and smiling benevolently, emulating the statue of Lincoln in Washington DC.

But there the similarity ends. A few hundred metres away is 2-28 Peace Memorial Park, named after the vicious crackdown by the KMT on locals protesting corruption and economic hardship. The number 2-28 refers to 28 February 1947. The next four decades of White Terror were marked by brutal martial law and it’s fair to say Chiang Kai Shek is not universally revered. There are some efforts, subtle as they are, to reduce the reverence paid to CKS, such as renaming the Memorial Square Liberty Square.

The big ticket item is the Changing of the Guard which takes places every hour on the hour. Now you may think you have seen it all in Athens, where the pom pom lads prance prettily in front of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. I agree, this is elegant and enchanting. However the ceremony at the Memorial Hall is next level, though the choreography is more Joseph Goebbels (think goose steps and Hitler) than Parris Goebel (think Superbowl and J. Lo). There’s lots of heel clicking and rifle tossing and serious expressions. You can find videos on YouTube.

Housing 2.6 million people, the city itself is very spread out but easy to get around: everything is clean and tidy despite the lack of rubbish bins. I make enquiries. When there were public rubbish bins, people would bring all their household rubbish out and fill the bins rather than disposing of it at collection centres. Why wouldn’t you? So the Government took all the bins away but also promoted an initiative to reduce waste and promote recycling. They now have one of the highest recycling rates in the world. Go Taiwan.

Still on the cleanliness schtick, let me mention public toilets which, unlike rubbish bins, are plentiful. In every Metro station, public park, transport station, museum, temple and rest area you will find a spotlessly clean facility. I thank years of yoga when there is no western style throne and squatting is the only option – falling in is not an option.

In Europe I find you tire of cathedral after cathedral: in Asia it’s the same thing with temple after temple. Once you learn the difference between Buddhist (there’s a big fat buddha sitting there) and Taoist (a riot of colour with numerous beardy gods and no big fat buddha) and Confucian centres (no colour, no fat buddha) there’s not much different to admire, though the rooflines are always fascinatingly decorative.

I pretty much eat my body weight in dumplings, particularly xiao long bao, the pork dumplings with soup inside. On a previous trip to Shanghai I take a class to learn how to make these, but any attempts at home are more dumpster than dumpling. Street food is plentiful and delicious, even if sometimes you don’t know what you are eating, and often it’s better you don’t.

The two young women in the photo are making something that looks interesting, and there’s a queue of people so I reason it must be good. A thickish batter goes into what look like mini muffin tins, which sit over a heat source. Something unidentified gets plopped in, then more batter and cooking and turning commences. It takes several minutes and for my T$70, about $NZ3.50, I get a small basket of six with fried onion and some sauce. They are quite delicious and I eat them still not knowing what they are. When I go to the night market I see a big sign for Tayoyaki, a Japanese snack. A-ha, octopus balls! and just like you, I never knew octopus had them.

PS: I’m too lazy to set up another blog now we have finished caravanning, so sorry about the false advertising.

And here we are

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Back home again. This time we are home indefinitely and there are no future caravanning plans; after four years it does feel a little weird. Especially when you leave 33 degrees of sun and balmy weather and come home to this (see pic below). It does make you question your judgement.

Which places do we like the most? Well, there’s lots of places, but we both agree the south coast of Western Australia is hard to beat. To quote me, all the beaches along this stretch of coast SE Western Australia sparkle with pristine sands, and mercifully the only things missing are cafes, shops, houses, and assholes. There are also stunning natural landforms, towering forests of ancient trees, interesting history, and nice people. You can remind yourself about why we like the area so much here, here and here. We would travel back there again, no question.

Tingle tree
Lucky Bay

And I can’t go past Coral Bay, so good we go there twice. Swimming with humpback whales, whale sharks, manta rays, and turtles is indescribably joyful and, in every sense of the word, amazing. Different every time, and every time a delightful wonder.

The trip across the Nullarbor is also a treat – read out it here and here. In fact, I love all the long outback drives. Each Roadhouse is an opportunity to experience another slice of Aussie life – with all its shades of good and bad.

What would we do differently? Not much, though we have a list of things we should’ve (would’ve, could’ve, didn’t) bought/buy. These include a blow-up paddle board/kayak – there were waterways we would have been able to explore further, and just general mooching around on the water; an electric chainsaw – for firewood when free camping in out of the way places, and fending off potential serial killers – this is Australia after all; a coffee machine – for obvious reasons; a roof rack, a battery drill with an adjustable torque setting, and some easy attach anti-flap clamps for the awning.

What were the unexpected delights? Random art projects, be it on grain silos, dams, water towers or city walls. Give an Aussie a blank space and they’ll slap a mural on it – and they are fantastic. The images generally portray some aspect of the history or people of the area. Sometimes you stumble on a stunning image in the middle of nowhere, other times you can spend some time meandering along a mapped out trail which leads you to places you’d otherwise miss.

Meeting some wonderful people at campsites and freedom camping along the way. There are a lot of the aforementioned assholes as well, but most people are generous with their time and tips about places to visit, camping information, and campsites – sometimes too generous, and it’s hard to get away.

Hot Springs – we never had a clue about the Great Artesian Basin that sits under a huge chunk of the mid to north east, and the many hot springs that are available.

floating down the river at Bitter Springs

Did you go everywhere? No, but we covered a lot. Colour coding on the map shows where we did go, and when. The blue line is 2018 is a precursor to caravanning – we flew to Darwin, hired a car and drove to Broome. We met so many campers and caravaners on the road we see no reason not to join in. So 2019 is the yellow trail; 2020 we all stay in our bubbles at home; 2021 is the pink trip across the Nullarbor and up and down WA; 2022 the purple took us from Perth almost the whole way round, ending in Mellbourne for a return a couple of months later in December /January 2023 to visit Tasmania. The murky orange, 2023, is our last trip along the Queensland coast.

All in all six, trips trips between April 2019 and October 2023 – no travel on 2020; 103 weeks of Aussie adventures. The Landcruiser had 18,000km on it when we bought it for $A91,000, and 95,000kms when we sold it for $A80,500. It was a machine – absolutely no problems, took us anywhere and everywhere, hauled us out of sand, rolled over some ugly terrain and didn’t miss a beat.

The caravan has new Kiwi owners who are going to live, work and travel around Australia for the next few years. They got a bargain.

end of an era, and yes, Walter the koala came home with us

How much did we spend on diesel? Don’t ask, don’t know, don’t care

Will you go back? No immediate plans

Do you recommend it? Hell, yes.

The Coast of Diminishing Returns

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Sometimes, more is not better. That is the case as we travel further north up the Queensland coast. There’s more heat, more humidity, more things that want to harm, or kill you. Now, when we go to the beach the signs are less than encouraging, warning of strong currents, marine stingers and crocodiles. The only thing less inviting would be attending a party political rally. While it is not quite stinger season yet, it is close as temperatures are rise and the ocean is getting warmer. Beaches have “stinger net” areas for swimming, which might enclose 250 metres of a two kilometre long beach, so it’s not really like the beach at all – especially when the tide’s out, then it’s more like a big damp sand pit.

stinger net at half tide

The small and invisible pests are the worst. Midges. The very word strikes fear into my heart. Where mosquitos are like attack helicopters and let you know they’re coming for you, midges are more your stealth bomber – and the real damage happens after they’ve gone, and you wake in the middle of the night ready to tear the itchy skin off your body. I am an expert in the range of insect repelling techniques and potions; even my moisturiser is insect repellent. In this instance I subscribe to the more is better philosophy.

We arrive in Airlie Beach, capital of the Whitsundays to meet with family for a week. My oldest brother, sister in law, five nieces with their three husbands, one boyfriend, and seven kids all travel in from New Zealand and Melbourne. There are moments of mayhem, especially when Scott hands out water pistols – and yes, it’s even worse when the kids get a turn.

The idea of cruising the Whitsundays has a dreamy appeal – gentle tropical breezes, white sandy beaches, snorkelling in clean, clear waters. That’s what the brochures sell and we are ready for it. The weather has different plans. For the entire week the wind doesn’t drop below 30knots (55 kph) making water activities more like water torture. Our full day charter, booked well in advance, goes ahead, and the 2.5 hour trip to the snorkelling spot sees one adult and one kid feeding the fishes. For a lot less money we could have taken the Cook Strait ferry in a gale force wind and had the same experience. But when we arrive at the designated bay, it is a bit more tranquil than the open sea and there’s a great deal of fun bombing off the top deck. You can’t do that on the Interislander.

no children were injured in these activities!

We are at the southern end of the Great barrier Reef and here we find a mix of lovely, floaty soft and hard corals. The soft corals are beautiful, waving so gently in the current they seem to be breathing. Colourful fish dart about, hiding in the gaps and flitting back and forth. It’s very pretty, but the wind does make the water a bit choppy. I now know how much energy it takes to keep a kid afloat while you adjust their mask and try to convince them to keep their mouth closed on the snorkel. It’s a bit like being hugged by a drowning koala. The conditions mean no paddle boarding or kayaking as the skipper would be picking us up in Fiji, which in hindsight might be nice.  But by the time we all get home the worst is forgotten.

The next day the blokes go fishing and, surprise surprise, report rough conditions and tough fishing; a mediocre adventure mitigated by the consumption of a record numbers of beers. We cancel the last day’s snorkelling and beach trip in the interests of family unity, avoiding further trauma to children, and returning from holiday with the same number of people as left. 

The week ends as it begins, with Air New Zealand completely stuffing up various family bookings, requiring the repurchase of tickets, extra nights accommodation, and family groups split by ridiculous ticketing processes. Here in Australia, Qantas is the subject of a Senate Enquiry into flight prices and consumer rights following a tidal wave of marketing disasters. It doesn’t help that Alan Joyce, the CEO of 15 years, left early with a $24 million in bonuses and share options. Perhaps Air NZ will take note and proactively sort itself out. Oh how I laugh to think that might happen.

Windswept and interesting, that’s us

The Northern Migration

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Do you ever wonder who comes up with group terms for birds and animals? Such as a parliament of owls, an array of hedgehogs, or a tower of giraffes (yes, really)? This is a rabbit hole that deserves excavating at some point, but as most mornings we wake to a cacophony of high pitched faarrrk, faaarrrk, faaarrks, heralding the awakening of the crows, I can easily understand why the collective noun for these faaarrrkers is a murder.

We are nearing the end of a three week stay at Blacks Beach, 15 kms north of Mackay. The beach stretches six kms and is as usually punctuated by fishers people tryng their luck. The fishing is patchy, but the keen anglers are now bringing in Spanish Mackeral, though I have yet to see one grace our table. The fisherman tells me he’s not that keen.

We are lucky to have not one but two sets of visitors while we’re here. Aussie mates Eleanor and Philip are doing on water what those from the southern states generally do on the road: heading north over Winter. They leave Lake Macquarie, south of Newcastle, NSW in early July and this is the first time our paths converge. We think we’re lucky with our whale encounters off K’gari/Fraser Island, but every day they are sailing with hundreds of migrating whales and, in the solitude and quiet the open ocean, they can hear the whales singing in communication.

It is hard to fathom the numbers of migrating whales: estimates vary, but around 60,000 leave Antarctica and begin the world’s longest mammal migration of 5,000 kms to the warm waters of northern Australia where they mate, calve and teach their newborns how to be whales. Comparisons with the vast numbers of “grey nomad” caravaners heading north over Winter are inevitable, though there’s probably a bit less of the mating and calving.

Each time we go to a lookout – or the Eimeo pub which, while otherwise unremarkable, is on a bluff and has stunning views and sunsets – we see humpbacks. At this time of year they are heading back south. As will the caravaners and yachties as Spring arrives.

While Martyn and Sue are here we take a trip 80km inland, up the Pioneer Valley, to Eungella and Broken River. Our mission is to see platypuses and this part of Australia is recognised as the world’s most reliable location for observing them in the wild. The drive starts as we expect with miles of sugar cane fields, a couple of sugar mills and little else. Then the road climbs. And climbs. And climbs, zig zagging almost 700 metres up to Eungella where we can look back out over the rainforest back to the coast.

But the platypuses – Broken River does a great job of making sure you have the best chance of seeing these shy creatures. There are paved walkways with information boards describing the habitat and local flora and fauna. Two viewing platforms, one up and one down stream sit at broad calm pools, and further well beaten paths edge the river. Dawn and dusk are the best times for viewing, but patience is definitely the order of the day. After 45 minutes squatting riverside, I need knee replacements. As I decide to walk down and try the other end of the river my reward awaits at the road bridge. A feisty little animal – monotreme actually – is ruffling the waters and riverbed looking for tidbits. We see several more over the early evening so we’re relieved we won’t have to get up at dawn and try again. FYI a group of platypuses, should you be lucky enough to see more than one at a time, is the very appropriate paddle.

photo credit for playtpus photos goes to Martyn and Sue.

We are on the final countdown now, with just under two months of travel remaining. In mid October we fly home, mercifully a few days post the New Zealand election, so we are missing all the rhetoric and hyperbole that is typical in the run up. I’m extremely confident in the Electoral Commission however, as having moved 500 metres up the road and notified my change of address (same post/zip code), they apparently don’t have enough information about which electorate I’m in. IT’S THE SAME ONE! Sorry Kiwis, but there’s something we can learn from the Aussies – introduce democracy sausages – it might make the election more palatable.

Every Dog Has Its Day

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While a dingo is genetically somewhere between a wolf and a modern domestic dog, it is certainly having its day in the limelight. It might turn out to be a very bad day, as calls for culling become louder. Since April this year there have been six dingo attacks on people on K’gari/Fraser Island. The latest, where a young woman needs airlifting to hospital suffering from more than 30 bite wounds, galvanises political action and sees the Environment Minister visit the island to gauge the situation. Clearly, as a career politician, she is well qualified to understand animal behaviour. 

In the interests of investigative holiday-making, we too are on K’gari for a few days. The caravan is in storage and we take the Landcruiser onto a barge which runs across the inlet between Hervey Bay and K’gari, taking about 40 minutes. Friends Peter and Jenny, up from Brisbane, and Brigid and John, in from New Zealand, meet us at the barge. In fact we are gate crashing their plans, offering the Landcruiser for exploring the island: K’gari is, famously, the world’s largest sand island and a grunty 4WD is essential – that and a driver who sees no obstacle too great to impede progress.

We hit the highlights, balancing activity with our proclivity for copious eating and drinking. A swim in Lake McKenzie is mandatory. It is one of several perched dune lakes on the island, all well above seal level and fed entirely by rainwater. The shores are sparkly white, fine silica sand which filters the water so it is clear as gin – and we should know. The temperature lets you know you are alive, as you can see in the photo by the look on Jenny’s face.

A drive across the island to the east coast takes us through a series of six different dune systems. Drive is an understatement – we undulate, sway, bump and grind through rutted tracts which vie for space with soft sand. Sadly we do not count a physiotherapist or osteopath or even a massage therapist in our number.

The oldest dune system, on the west coast, is home to heaths, swamps and mangroves. We continue through woodlands, rainforest, tall eucalypts, and mixed forest before arriving at the Pacific coastal forests. All this over only 18 kilometres – which takes us an hour, slewing our way through the sand tracks. Suddenly it opens up and we power through the soft sand and hit the 120 km long beach road. This runs the length of K’gari and is an official Australian gazetted highway, which also happens to be a runway. We are not the first to roar up the beach, eyes peeled for dingos – we see three or four, and watch out for any rocks or soft sand traps.

You may think we don’t need to go whale watching again after our fabulous experiences on the Ningaloo Reef, but we do. Every time is different. The humpbacks in the Great Marine Sandy Park are on their way south and find themselves funnelled into the bay by K’gari. It takes them a few days to realise the short cut doesn’t work. There can be a couple of hundred in the bay at any one time. We see about eight pods of three or four and the final ones come and investigate our boat. The crew call this mugging, and joke it is the only mugging where you walk away still with your phone and wallet.

Remember that barge we came across on? Well the reverse trip takes somewhat longer than 40 minutes. The hydraulics on the loading ramp fail so we are slowly travelling with the ramp locked halfway up with a jury rigged cable (or is it jerry rigged? the internet is confused)securing it. We arrive at the mainland with no way to take the vehicles off – short of magic. Cue men standing around, shaking their heads, talking on phones and, in that time honoured fashion, generally pretending they know what to do. An engineer arrives – it’s Sunday by the way – and in just another hour and a half – how time flies when you are stuck on a barge with a 300 km drive ahead of you – the ramp descends to loud applause and we can be on our way.

Beyond the beaches and into the hinterland

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We take several trips up into what the Australians laughingly call mountains, but what we call hills. The Glass House Mountains, formed by volcanic activity about 27 to 26 million years ago, are thirteen hills that rise above the coastal plain of the Sunshine Coast. When he first saw them in 1770, James Cook thought they looked like the glass furnaces of Yorkshire. Needless to say, they already had more meaningful names to the local Aboriginal people. There are lots of walks, both long and short, a plethora of lookouts, and if you are up to it, climbs. The views are sensational and there is a special blue light that infuses the landscape.

While Scott punctuates our stay with a dive trip off in Papua New Guinea, I find more cerebral offerings at a yoga retreat at the Chenrezig Buddhist Institute/Monastery. It is a forty minute drive from the coast winding up through the Blackall Range through beautiful eucalyptus bush. As I get closer the road is gravel and narrows rather alarmingly: I hope I don’t meet any oncoming traffic as there is nowhere to go other than over the side of the bank. It turns out I took the road untravelled – there is a much easier route to nirvana, and it’s sealed.

The Institute itself is more extensive than I expect, sprawling over several acres with temples, stupa, prayer wheels, an art centre, and it also offers both short and long study courses. If you need longer to find enlightenment there is accommodation, and there’s the Big Love Cafe for those seeking more bodily nourishment (although I agree, the name sounds a bit dodgy). There’s also the Dharma Gift shop so you can take your new found tranquility with you. It is a serene and beautiful place. and I’m happy I get to experience it.

At this time of year it is possible to go to a different country show (along the lines of my last blog including Maleny Show). There are also markets galore and our local at Caloundra is a Sunday routine. It tumbles down the main street and in the middle, under a massive shady tree there’s live music showcasing local musicians. The food carts circle this area so it’s great for brunch.

However the reigning champion of markets remains Eumundi, running since 1979. There are two markets each week, on Wednesday and Saturday, but through Winter there’s a Friday night market once a month. So, why not? We decide to stay up there for a couple of nights and drive up on the appointed Friday. The night market promises a lantern parade and expectations are high for something along the lines of a Chinese lantern festival. Instead of grand we get cute: children make their lanterns and shyly parade along to show them off. There’s also music and food carts, but the full extent of the market is not open until Saturday.

This is what I wrote in this blog four years ago: On Wednesday we head up to Eumundi for the famous mid week market, hoping for fresh fruit and vegetables, homemade chutneys and interesting people. Yeah Nah. We park about a kilometre away as the entire population of Queensland has descended on the place.  The market area is bigger than the town itself and contains vast amounts of useless (read macrame dream catchers), useful, tasty and/or tasteless crap, miles of womenswear, yards of menswear, hats for all the family, and a fortuneteller, palm reader, medium or psychic so you can get in touch with someone who knows better than to consult these charlatans. If that’s not enough, there’s gallons of snake oil available to cure your sleeplessness, stomach disorder, eczema, arthritis, back pain, and neck pain, but not enough to cure my scepticism as to their efficacy.

Nothing has changed. The genuine artisan goods, food and, I hesitate to use the word crafts as it feels like it diminishes the skill and beautiful workmanship of many items, but yes, crafts, get lost in the many, many stalls and outlets of other stuff that is factory made and available anywhere.

Now about ten minutes away from Eumundi is Yandina, a place worth visiting for at least three reasons: lunch or dinner at the Spirit House if you can get a booking; the Macadamia Nut Nutworks; Buderim Ginger Factory.

To get to the Spirit House dining area, set in a U shape surrounding a small lake, you walk in through lush greenery including towering stands of bamboo. The whole setting is very tranquil and the food is both visually stunning and delicious. The crab and coconut soufflé, see photo, is so light it is what eating a fairy must be like.

Zingiber officinal – edible ginger. Go on, ask me anything. We do a tour of the planting and growing process, which in this climate seems remarkably easy. The young ginger has virtually no skin, is very pale and milder in flavour. What we see in the supermarket is generally older, and the exposure to oxygen means the skin is thicker and darker, and the texture is fibrous. In the processing plant vats of ginger in syrup simmer away before becoming anything from crystallised and chocolate covered ginger – highly recommended – to chutneys, syrups, marmalades, ginger beer, beer flavoured ginger, and more. The dark chocolate covered ginger we buy – exit through the gift shop – is made with young ginger so the texture is softer and not fibrous- very delicious. Turmeric is in the same family, along with galangal. That is fresh turmeric in the photo.

How many ways can you flavour and eat macadamia nuts? I don’t know, as we are yet to reach saturation, however as the three packs in the photo cost about $50 it’s unlikely we will ever find out.

Sunshine, a show and a shipwreck

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The wreck of the 226 tonne Steel Screw Schooner “Dicky” is visible at low tide on Dicky Beach. At 10.35am on 4th February 1893, in lashing rain and cyclonic winds the Captain beached the schooner to avoid hitting nearby rocks. There is a longer story, but here the Dicky rests. Or what’s left of it. The propellor has been restored and now sits at the end of a sculpture replicating the ship. Little known fact: Dicky Beach is the only recreational beach in the world named after a shipwreck.

restored propellor
what’s left

We are back, four years after our first caravan trip up the Sunshine Coast. We choose Dicky Beach for our first six weeks for a couple of reasons: an hour from Brisbane and Scott flies to Papua New Guinea part way through for a dive trip, so it will be an easy drop off and pick up ten days later. Secondly, we really like this Southern end of the Sunshine Coast. It is much more low key than up Noosa way, which feels a bit more flashy and over wrought. Our caravan park is about 50 metres from the beach and, at the beginning of Winter, very quiet. The beach runs for kilometres and there’s a shared bike/walkway up and down the coast.

We join the local Surf Club which is just over the fence. Our year’s membership is $5, $1 if you are staying at the Caravan Park. Bargain. Scott has a burning yearning for a Chicken Schnitty, a crumbed chicken breast run over by a Mack truck, famously the national dish of Australia and sharing honours with it’s ritzier cousin, the Chicken Parmi – the difference being a bit of tomato passata, ham and cheese slapped on the latter – so we go for dinner. There’s raffles, and I love a good gamble. You may remember I won big bucks at the Cairns Casino playing roulette. Anyway, who can resist a meat pack raffle, and there’s ten, yes ten, up for grabs. $10 for 20 tickets, the odds have to be good. Well my luck is in – it’s winner winner meat pack dinner! And Scott still gets his chicken Parmi. How proud am I? I don’t know why it is a surprise when we cook up the meat that it is all delicious.

We love a good country A and P show (Agricultural and Pastoral). Last year we had a great time at Kununurra, WA, which features competitions such as Hay Bale Stacking and the Cowboy Challenge – you can read my colourful description in this blog 

On our first weekend we are off up into the hinterland for the Maleny Show. It is the 100th anniversary so we are expecting great things. I fail to guess the weight of the prize bull, but then so does everybody else. There’s no Cowboy Challenge, but we check out the Comedy Races. I’m not sure what the ducks and piglets think, but we find the piglet race very entertaining. Actually as both the Cowboy Challenge and Pig Races end with guzzling a bevvy, I guess they are similar: the difference is a warm can of beer or a trough of caramel milk.

These shows definitely give rise to childhood nostalgia. The smell of candy floss (fairy floss) and chips and hot dogs – you want them til you have them, then wish you hadn’t. And the scarier rides – once you are on you can’t wait to get off.

Scott gravitates to the baking competition like an Aussie to a can of beer. The calico covered trestles groan with cakes, loaves, biscuits, and some offerings that beggar description. The kids decorations have the most imagination, though it’s hard to tell what some of the creations represent. I love that there’s craft section for the “70 years and over”. They probably have to separate them as they’d show up everyone else.

We spend an enjoyable hour at the show jumping, clapping clear rounds and gasping if a horse refuses a jump, or knocks down a rail. It’s nail biting stuff. We watch a real life Horse Whisperer, Guy McLean, who wields magical powers over the young horses he trains. Mounted on his feisty stallion, Guy releases three young horses from their halters and then, with tactics reminiscent of a sheep dog herding ewes, canters, turns, stops, divides, brings together and completely and effortlessly controls the horses. Look him up on Youtube and prepare to be amazed.

This year our plan is different: longer stays in fewer places along the Queensland coast. As this is the stamping ground, or more appropriately shuffling ground, of the southerners who head north for the Winter months, this requires some pre-planning and booking of desirable sites. Not our preference, as we would rather move, or stay, as the mood takes us. However since the pandemic more Australians have caravans and campers and travel within the country. A marked difference from our first trip in 2018 when we never booked ahead, nor need to.

At the moment, however, life is still very quiet here at Dicky Bay, just how I like it. I suspect it will all change with the advent of the school holidays.

Don’t all rush at once

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This is not the blog you are expecting – that will come soon.

New Zealanders can become Australian citizens more easily, and enjoy all the rights and privileges that brings. Here are some of them. A snapshot from today’s news that will have Kiwis rushing over the ditch. 

Politics:

  • Yet another politician has been stood down after sexual misconduct allegations from two female colleagues. Independent Senator Lydia Thorpe used Parliamentary Privilege to accuse Senator Van of sexual assault. Further allegations from others followed. 
  • The Brittany Higgins rape case (in case you’re behind the news) continues, despite the trial collapsing. Yet the fall-out impacts through and the media, with allegations about who knew what, when. This event dates back to 2019, and happened in the office of the Defense Industry Minister in Parliament House after hours. 
  • The 10 News political reporter confirms Parliament is a toxic environment to work.
  • The Government does not role model a safe workplace.

Economics:

  • Good news, unemployment is down. Bad news, this could trigger further inflation and another interest rate rise. 
  • The country is headed to recession, just like New Zealand according to today’s figures.
  • As in New Zealand, house prices are falling and interest rates rising – no-one can sell and no-one can afford to buy. 
  • Wages are higher, so are taxes – and there are more of them. Luxury car tax (which we had to pay when we bought the Landcruiser). Stamp duty on property.

Cultural:

  • After acknowledging the Aboriginal people have lived here for over 60,000 years, there’s a referendum this year which, in a nutshell, would enshrine a permanent Indigenous voice to Parliament in the Constitution. Be clear: this is to establish an ADVISORY body with the purpose of recognising and representing Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders.  Advisory being the operative word. Not making legislation, just having a (non binding) say. Imagine. Asking people who would be directly impacted by a law for their input. While this may seem like a no brainer – it is a no brainer – success is by no means assured. It’s not quite MAGA, but red necks proliferate.
  • A ten kilo, two metre carpet python snake was found in a bathroom in Queensland. 

None of these things reduce my pleasure at vacationing in this warm and pleasant land. We meet lovely people, most of the time; enjoy the opportunities offered to us as visiting neighbours; inject our enthusiasm and dollars into everything we do – It’s nice place to visit, but …….

One trip ends…and another one begins

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What could be more wonderful than the ferry from Tasmania arriving into Geelong three hours late, at 11:30pm? Only one thing: a midnight arrival at the caravan park to find the gate code they sent doesn’t work. Oh joy! 

Fortunately another late arrival uses their code and we don’t have to camp on the side of the road.

We’re on a mission to drive the 1,645 km to Queensland where we plan to store the caravan for a few months. We take the Hume Freeway and our first stop is Glenrowan. If you don’t know, Glenrowan is the site of Ned Kelly and the Kelly Gang’s fatal last stand. This town is all Ned Kelly all the time. A new Ned Kelly Centre is under construction at cost of $3.5 million. Priorities, priorities.

In a last minute decision we to go to the museum – it advertises an animatronic experience: a what you say?

We move into a dark room which recreates the Railway waiting room; the Police are taking the train to Glenrowan where they hear the Kelly gang are resting. For the next 35 minutes we see the famous story from multiple points of view. We progress through several rooms, each with animated life-like mannequins (this is the animatronics bit) conveying the story. There is elaborate staging and multiple special effects. It’s not the Marvel universe, but it is engaging.

One minute we’re in a rowdy pub with a band playing while the barkeep serves customers; we’re on a verandah witnessing the final gun fight; we’re in the burning house where the gang take refuge. The room is full of smoke (steam) and the sound of crackling flames. Suddenly the roof caves. There are gasps. Someone swears (me). Two children are traumatised for life. And that’s before we witness Ned’s hanging.

After this we need a drink. A temperature of 33C means where’s the beer? We find Red Dog Brewery, which turns out to be a vineyard and winery as well. Peter, the current patriarch, is on duty and the man can tell a good story. Or ten. His grandfather not only planted the first vines, small blocks of Trebbiano and Shiraz, in 1919, he also built, by hand, the cavernous cellar in which we stand sampling some good beer and drinkable wine.

I engineer our trip so Scott can see the Dog on the Tucker-box at Gundagai. There’s a famous (in Australia) statue, inspired by a bullock driver’s poem, Bullocky Bill. The mythical dog loyally guards his owner’s tucker-box until death. You can read the full story here. Excitement builds as we approach the site, and….. well, there’s the tucker-box, but where’s the bloody faithful dog? So much for loyalty. Walter has to sub in.

Many ask where we leave the caravan when we return to New Zealand. It varies, as it depends on where we end the trip. This time we head to Ballandean, just over the NSW border into Queensland, to friends who have a vineyard and winery Just Red Wines on the Granite Belt, a lesser known winemaking area of Australia. The region is elevated and specialises in cool climate wines, and you will find varietals not typical in other regions: whites such as Alvarinho, Marsanne, Roussane, Vermentino and Petit Manseng, and reds such as Durif, Petit Verdot, Tannat, and Nero d’Avola.

The Just Red property has two accommodation cabins with lovely views over the vineyard, and bush over a few acres at the back. We bring some track markers to replace the fading strips that mark the trail and that will be our first job when we return.

Oh, look at that – we’re back! It takes a couple of days to mark, and check the marking, of the trail. We call it blazing, but Australians don’t like that word, especially when you are talking about the bush. As you see, the Granite Belt is aptly named as the trail not only leads through towering native trees, but traverses the massive boulders that give the area its name.

So here we are, back in Queensland and this is the final caravan excursion for us before we sell up. In the meantime we are heading north along the Queensland coast: first stop Dicky Beach, a destination we remember enjoying back in July 2019 – our first trip. Seems like a long time ago.