Category Archives: Uncategorized

It’s all about the pearls

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Broome is a interesting town with an ironic history: a booming pearling industry in the late 1880s sees more Japanese than European settlers living there, and a strafing attacks by Japanese Zeros on the 3rd March, 1942. Since our last visit in 2018, when there was no visible story of this major event, most Australians not knowing Broome was attacked, an evocative installation is now at Roebuck Bay. Japanese fighters strafed not only the Broome airfield, but also 15 flying boats at anchor. These were transferring Dutch evacuees to safety from Java which had been invaded by Japan. The nine figures of the installation stand looking out to the site of one of the fifteen wrecks, a Catalina FV-N. There are silhouettes of nine Zeros arranged in three flying formations depicted coming from the southwest, the flight path they took that day. The stories and quotes written on the figures are arranged into 9 themes: The Chaos of War, The Movement of People, The Attack, The Rescue, The Survivors, The Impact, Kudo, The Wrecks, Reflection and Reconciliation. The stories are both heartbreaking and inspirational.

Nine Zeros, Nine Stories on the Roebuck Bay

If is fair to say Broome is the equivalent of a seasonal retirement village. Those living in Perth and south flock north for Winter, many staying at the same caravan park, probably in the same site, with the same friends they have at home. Same, same, but warmer.

On advice from friends we head up the more remote Dampier Peninsula towards Cape Leveque, leaving the caravan in Broome. We remember flying over this wild part of the world back in 2018, and a magic trip to the Horizontal Falls (which I wrote about on my former blogsite). David Attenborough calls the falls the Eighth Wonder of the World. Here the tide runs full tilt between narrow cliffs and appears to flow, well, horizontally.  It is thrilling and mind bending, taking the powerful boats up through the narrow gap where water defies the laws of nature.

The main road up to Cape Leveque is recently sealed, long and straight. We continue past our turnoff and go into the tiny Beagle Bay Community to see Sacred Heart Church – not because I suddenly need to go to confession, but to see the beautiful pearl shell altar and side altars. It is quite spectacular.

The beautiful pearl shell altar of the Sacred Heart church

The Stations of the Cross (ask a Catholic if you can find one) feature pearl shell frames and are painted in German Impressionist style. They date from 1949 and include themes and symbols meaningful to the local Aboriginal community. Yes, someone really thought this.  At the risk of (further) inflaming any Catholic readers, I suggest what happens to Aboriginal people as a result of European arrival is on a par with crucifixion.  I appreciate the beauty of the church from a purely aesthetic viewpoint.

From Beagle Bay to our accommodation the 26km road is a 4WD track, and several times I think we may not be going the right way.  Sandy in places, rugged in others with borders of long grass so you can’t really see much other than what is in front of you. Other sections give out wide views across the seedy grass.

And then……. swaying palms, blue ocean, white sand.  

No longer an active pearling factory, the pearl divers quarters are now basic but airy queen rooms:  five opening out on to the water and five facing inland.  We are in the waterfront and thank goodness for the cyclone shutters, which sit at about 60 degrees down, shade the room from the easterly sun, but windows that allow in the breeze.  Anyone who doesn’t believe I am ever up early enough for a sunrise would generally be right. But in this case I have no choice as the dawn shines right in my eyes – until I realise I can drop the shutter the night before.

The days are spent walking, fishing (for Scott), crabbing, talking, eating (crab and fish), drinking, reading, learning about the history of the pearl industry, and pearls in general. Steve, who started the farm in the 1970s, and his partner Erin (a lovely Kiwi) are great hosts and generous with their time and resources.

And a lasting memory of Broome: we go to the Sun theatre, the world’s oldest operating picture garden to see Top Gun, Maverick. Broome airport is less than half a kilometre from the main street theatre, and about half an hour into the movie there’s a deafening roar as a jet flies overhead at no more than 500 metres – it takes a moment to realise it isn’t the movie sound effects, but then we realise – everyone laughs and cheers – go Qantas! That’s service.

The Kimberley region is one of the most remote in Australia, and one of the world’s last wilderness frontiers. The region is three times larger than England with a population of less than 40,000. think about that for a minute. It’s a empty space bigger than Boris Johnson’s ego. Extending over Australia’s entire north-western corner, the Kimberley is  spectacular: rugged ranges, deep gorges, semi-arid savanna and a largely isolated coastline. Broome is the eastern anchor, and we set off to Kununurra, 1,100 kilometres away. come with us.

And then you meet people like this

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Emma and James are those young people who help you believe good people exist in the world.  We meet them at a roadside rest area where we stop to stretch and change drivers, which we do every 100 or so kms.  Two people are sitting in the grass eating a snack. There are what look like bike trailers on the dirt in front of them.  When I go over to chat, I see the trailers are heavily laden carts, with two wheels and a handle.  

Emma and James are walking across Australia. You read that correctly. James started his trek pre Covid lockdowns and then couldn’t get into WA with border closures. With Covid dictating his passage, he suspended travel in Alice Springs.  

Now he and Emma are finishing the trip.  They have just come off 700 odd kms of the Tanami Road which runs from Alice Springs to the Great North Highway just south of Halls Creek.  Now, understand the Tanami Road is a sandy, rocky, rough 4WD road, not smooth bitumen, and they are pushing these carts.  I try one out for a few metres and yes, they are well balanced, but I can not imagine a full day pushing this in front of me.  With heat, flies, dirt, boredom and pain for company, then no hope of a hot shower at the end of the day.  Emma tells me they average 43 kms a day.

Why? You have to ask.  Why? They are raising money for Purple House, a charity that provides medical care for the remote indigenous communities they pass through on their journey. There’s a gofundme page and you can read more there. 

We offer water, food, a toilet, but they cheerfully decline. They are totally self sufficient. They are amazing.

A Short Rant – I’ll post this while I’m still angry

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What drives me away from the lovely open fire tonight is Barb’s declaration:  “I like Trump”. I don’t even wait for more information. Seriously, this is the man who stacked the Supreme (ha ha) Court with lackeys who have no respect for women, for children, or self determination. 

After an enjoyable round of where have you been, and where are you going, and how long have you been travelling, (the usual camp chat) I can no longer rely on myself to be cool, calm and intellectually inquisitive about these opinions.

We’ve had 15 minutes of Barb expounding the efficacy of six days a week at the gym to prevent Covid, while her fat ass husband says the only people who die from Covid are obese. 

Adam, who seemed like a normal person when we invited him over for a drink, tells us he lost his job as a social worker because he wouldn’t get vaccinated.  We wasted two gins on him. He says got Covid, but it wasn’t bad, although he couldn’t move for a few days. But he didn’t need to take the Ivermectin he’d bought before it became illegal – fecking Ivermectin! Not approved, actually for animals as an anti-parasitic for crying out loud. 

Some of you, gentle readers, want to know more about the people we meet. Well, they are some of them. I’m sorry I have to meet them on your behalf.  

Who wants to swim with Whale Sharks?

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Last year we vow, in Arnie’s immortal words, “we’ll be back” – and nine months and one bout of Covid (me) later, we are. Our favourite WA destination has to be Coral Bay on the Ningaloo Reef. You can read about last year’s adventures of swimming with Manta Rays and being entertained by Humpback whales and graceful Manta Rays in my blog Good times with the mega fauna, so I won’t repeat myself. NB – it is worth reading, or re-reading.

The Ningaloo Reef is both not as readily accessible as the Great Barrier Reef and also more accessible. Ningaloo is remote: Perth, the most remote city on Earth, more or less, is 1,200kms (745 miles) south, so it’s not a day trip. Conversely, as a fringing reef it grows within a few metres of the shore – you can literally snorkel from the shore, where Great Barrier needs a boat trip. Ningaloo is one of the longest near-shore reefs in the world with over 300 species of coral, but if you expect lurid colours you will be disappointed – mostly it is grey/brown, but the size of the formations is impressive. Fish, 500 species on fact, are everywhere and all the rainbow of usual suspects abound: Parrotfish, Butterflyfish, Angelfish, Nemo lookalikes, and bigger species including reef sharks and turtles are at ease in the marine sanctuary. (underwater photos all by @elle_gillett)

Now, like many my age, I carry the trauma of the movie Jaws deep in my psyche. I can’t hear da dum………da dum……..da dum da dum da dum music without my sphincter tightening ever so slightly, so it’s big thing for me to go to the deep water. To swim with the Humpback and Whale Sharks however, you need to take a trip outside the reef to much deeper water. I’m not a natural snorkeler but I remember last year’s magic time with the Humpback whales and Manta rays. Yet, Whale sharks are less whale and more shark as they do not need to come up for air, but engage in constant motion as a shark. Like Lady MacBeth, but without the knife, I screw my courage to the sticking place and off we go.

last year’s trip – humpbacks showing off

This experience is nothing short of spectacular. We snorkel inside the reef then move out through the gap in the coral to open water. A couple of Humpbacks come along to amuse us, but we are here for bigger things. The skipper motors about 20 nautical miles (37kms) up the coast before the spotter plane calls and guides us to the appropriate area. As with the swims last year our guides divide us into two groups – no more than 10 to a group and we are a boat of 18.

The first 10 swimmers get the call to go in while the rest of us sit ready, heart pounding in my case, on the marlin board (platform at the stern of the boat). The skipper positions the boat ahead and off to the side of the Whale shark: Slide in and swim right!  the call comes and off we go. Next thing, coming straight at us is the most awe inspiring and beautiful sight, a 7-8 metre spotty beast, lazily moving through the water.

I quickly turn in the same direction the Whale Shark is moving and try to stay abreast of the pectoral fin. It is swimming slowly enough to keep up without too much effort. Eventually the guide calls for us to stop and re-group and the boat comes back to pick us up. We repeat the process and see three different Whale Sharks in all – it’s hard to stop smiling.

And harder to haul yourself out of the water for the 4th time in half and hour – note to self, work on upper body strength. I bet Lady MacBeth wouldn’t have any problems.

Everyone is buzzing after a close encounter with one of the giants of the ocean, and the day gets even better as we motor back to base. Dolphins come and perform and ride along and then, back inside the reef, two more Humpback whales arrive alongside. The skipper and crew tell us it is extremely rare to find them inside the reef, and we are in only 10 metres of water. They hang around for ages and come up close to the boat several times. All we need now is Aquaman and a few mermaids and on a day like this, anything’s possible.

And then, because nothing is ever perfect, three days later Scott tests positive for Covid. We find out two of the crew are also now in isolation. Just proves it – you catch Covid from Whale Sharks.

So you want to go camping

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It is an ongoing source of fascination to see the wide range of caravan/camper-van/camping set-ups that abound in this country. To be fair, we do not camp or use campgrounds in New Zealand, but the press inches devoted to freedom campers and camper-vans suggests they are more of a problem rather than a desirable tourism asset. Unlike New Zealand, Australia is a country of people who head off regularly as well as many overseas visitors travelling in car, campers, vans and caravans. Consequently, there are as many types of camping areas as there are ways to camp.

The most basic level is just a swag at ground level, more or less a one person mini tent. this is for Nigel no-mates, or of you have mates then you can each have your own “bedroom”.

your most basic camping – a bed roll in a one person ‘tent’

Next up is the roof top camper which is very popular, especially with young people who tend to be lithe enough to climb up and bend themselves in the required shapes to be comfortable. And people who don’t have to go to the toilet during the night. Often the vehicle is set up with a drawers and pull outs to make a camp kitchen, or sometimes a small camper trailer is along for the ride.

Now, camper trailers come in all shapes and sizes and put you in mind of kids’ transformer toys. They fold out and up and change personality. One of my favourites is the little white one in the photo below. It opens its bum and doubles its size immediately – and not all of us can say that.

Camper-vans are the same in that you have a multitude of options, some from the factory, some homebuilt or conversions. In New Zealand, we are more than familiar with the camper-van and the multitude of companies hiring them out – at least, before Covid we were. Some of the same names appear here, Britz and Maui for example, but there are so many more.

everything in its place
home built, 14 years on the road and three kids

Caravans come in three main types: on-road standard, semi off-road like ours, which means it has more clearance but is not necessarily more rugged, and off-road which means tough. Length and breadth are also variable. Breadth can increase considerably with the use of slide-outs which give more internal space. I could not guess at the number of manufacturers, and we hear there is still a 12 -18 month waiting list to get one. When people had to cancel overseas trips they looked homewards and traded Bali for Birdsville and Amsterdam for Alice Springs.

Then for some people there is no limit to the amount of space or stuff they need. In this case you graduate to a bigger caravan or a bus. We see everything from converted public transport buses, the kind that takes the kids to school, through to custom built luxury liners.

or you can have a bus, with slide outs and tow a small car

Now just when we think we’ve seen it all, we see a convertible towing a camper trailer. We are so intrigued we watch them set up. None of it looks comfortable for long journeys or comfortable sleeping. They are not young. I ask how long they’ve been travelling – 61 days she says. How much longer? another 61 days, and the look on her face tells me she has it counted down to hours, if not minutes. This is not really her happy place, and if I had to crawl into that space to sleep I think I’d been signing the divorce papers sooner rather than later.

So there you have it – you pay your money and make your choice. I haven’t touched on the people you meet (as varied as there are ways to camp) or the types of places to camp, so if you want to hear more on the topic, let me know,

Sharks, Shells and Sausages

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Shark Bay seems to be an appropriate place to spend Election Day. We fail to understand the preferential voting process for both the House of Representatives and the Senate, and suspect many people are in the same situation.  Well over six million voters make their choice well ahead of polling day, so it’s possible not as many Democracy Sausages hit the BBQ as one might hope.  To quote Wikipedia, because God knows we have no idea what the hell this is, a “Democracy sausage is the colloquial name for a sausage wrapped in a slice of bread, bought from a sausage sizzle operated as a fundraiser at Australian polling places on election day, often in aid of the institutions that house the polling place.” I’m sure you are desperate to know the history of this fair dinkum tradition, so here’s a link , and, I kid you not, leading up to the election there is an interactive map so you can find your sausage.

You will know by now that Albo gave the elbow to Scotty from Marketing, who was last seen out the back of Kirribilli House choking down a Democracy Sausage as he fled into the night with his ego packed in a black plastic garbage bag..

We are staying in Denham (pop 750) which sits on a broad sweep of bay with nothing but the Indian Ocean between here and Madagascar.  Denham is the western most town in Australia and the only town servicing the Shark Bay area.

We spend a day on a four wheel drive adventure through the scrubby desert and along birridas – salt and gypsum claypans – to the tip of Francois Peron National Park, which forms the western arm of Shark Bay World Heritage area.  This is a magical patterned landscape of red, white and green with the blue of the sky, and when we reach the top, the colours of an angry sea.

it’s a long and sandy road

Yes, the day is windy, and walking to the  lookouts or along the beach results in an involuntary exfoliation of all exposed flesh. 

this is the calmer side of the lookout today

Before hitting the sandy road we stop, along with a bunch of other vehicles, to let the tyres down.  I notice we are the oldest people there by about 35 years. This doesn’t mean much at the time, but later I am able to make the scientific correlation between age and being in a hurry. We are not in a hurry. Why are they? Their whole life is ahead of them – but possibly not if they drive like this on the open road. We are day trippers, surfing the corrugations and sandy drifts for 40 kms to the point where beach sand and blue ocean waters touch the rust-red desert dirt.  I am so chuffed with my new 4WD skills I feel ready for the Paris to Dakar; mind you, there’s no chance of doing a Mark Thatcher here, the roads are obvious.

deflating the tyres before we head into the wild

So, Shark Bay. Not the most inviting name I am sure you agree. We can blame English explorer William Dampier – he writes in 1699: “Sharks we caught a great many of, which our men eat very savourily….Among them we caught one which was 11 feet long”. Indeed there are 28 shark species here and a trip to the Ocean Park Aquarium introduces us to a few of them, along with many of the other ocean dwelling creatures that inhabit the area.

As a UNESCO World Heritage Area, Shark Bay is one of only a handful of places to achieve this level – there’s several reasons including the presence of threatened species, evidence of ongoing evolution (not always obvious in the human population) and not least, the Stromatolites at Hamelin Bay. While on an adventure in the Pilbara last year, I write about the amazing geology and the stromatolites which kicked off life itself – amazing, I know, and even more amazing if you remember the blog. Last September when we visit Hamelin Bay, the viewing walkway over this delicate area had been decimated by Cyclone Seroja in the previous April, so we saw nothing. This year, however, we see stromatolites at Cervantes, further down the coast. I have to tell you, for something so important in the creation of life they look no more interesting than great big cow pats.

this is what gave you life – be in awe

What we do see both at Hamelin and Shell Beach, are shells – millions of them. Shell beach has no sand, but tiny Hameln cockle shells 10 metres deep and stretching for 60 kms. Over years and years the shells become hard packed and there are historic buildings in the area where the construction material is shell brick. The photo below shows Scott in a shell brick quarry.

One of the main attractions in Shark Bay is Monkey Mia on the opposite side of the peninsula. It is famous for the bottlenose dolphins which visit the area daily. There is a “dolphin experience” every morning which they say depends on the dolphins, but I know if you offer me food at the same time every morning I’m likely to turn up. We elect to drive over one afternoon and have our own dolphin experience watching a small pod of 5 or 6 swim up and down the beach. It is a beautiful spot and the day we are there it is glass calm.

yes, that’s a pelican, not a dolphin

For those who need a map or two

The larger picture – Shark Bay is 750 kms north of Perth.

You should be so lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky (thanks, Kylie)

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Lucky Bay has the whitest sand and is widely seen as the best beach in Australia – so, rhetorical question, why wouldn’t we go? I book the campground a couple of months before we leave New Zealand: previous experience tells us popular places get booked early. I pick a date a week after we fly in, hoping we won’t have to isolate on arrival in Perth. Far from it – after weeks of angst working out which forms we need, Western Australia relaxes all its restrictions a few days before we arrive and they wave us through with a lack of interest only a pensioner couple can arouse. 

Sweeping heathlands and dunes lead down to hundreds of metres of squeaky, whiter than white sand, so all the hype is true.

The squeaky white sand is as fine as talcum powder

Indeed 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. We are in the Cape Le Grand National Park and the one park campground – about 50 well separated sites is off grid, so no power or water hook up. We make sure the water tanks in the caravan are full before we arrive although there are clean, well maintained long drop toilets and solar showers available.  Just watch out for the roaming kangaroos that like to wander along the beach or into your campsite when you are lying back on your reclining beach chair, reading.

Bugger off Skippy, I’m trying to read

To arrive at this sumptuous destination we drive 720kms south east from Perth, across vast plains smouldering as in some post apocalyptic nightmare. This is the Wheatbelt, though there’s wheat, canola, oats barley and so on. From mid April to June farmers are seeding this year’s crops, and prior to planting, the stubble is burned off to clear manage weeds and the ground. Unless you see it, it is hard to imagine just how massive these cropping areas are. The WA Wheatbelt south of Perth spans 154,862 square kilometres, but the resident population is only about 75,000 spread across a couple of hundred small towns with populations of between 500 and 1,000. 

One such small, but perfectly formed town is Beverley.  It turns out I not only have a town in my name but it comes with a nifty slogan.

Being very me

I can imagine the town council meeting now. Mayor: We’ve got a new catchphrase, one that’ll have tourists lining the highway to get here – Be Very You. Councillor: I don’t get it. Mayor, with enthusiasm: Come on Ken, it’s great, it’s inclusive and encouraging , you know, to be yourself. And it’s clever – it nearly spells Beverley but leave out the le and add ou. Councillor: Be yourself? How can you be anyone else? Anyway, we don’t want people being themselves if they’re foreign or woolly woofters. Mayor: Ken! It’s 2022, you can’t say that. Anyway, we’ve paid that fancy Perth advertising mob $100,000 so we’re putting rates up to pay for it. Meeting closed.

Back in Cape Le Grand National Park we amuse ourselves visiting some of the other small beaches in the Park, swimming and body surfing in the clearest water ever, walking trails between beaches and, incomprehensibly, scaling a very large rock.

Frenchman’s Peak looms above us

Frenchman’s Peak, so named by surveyor Alexander Forrest for its resemblance to the hats worn by French troops in the 1800s, rears up to 262 very steep metres. A large cave near the summit is thought to have formed by wave action 40 million years ago when sea levels were at least 300 metres higher than they are now. At times we scramble up 45 degrees slopes. When I pause to rest – for quite some time – a young woman below encourages her 10 year old with “look that lady there is as old as Nana and she’s climbing”. His not unreasonable response is “I don’t care, I don’t want to die”. Fair enough but I’m more concerned with how old Nana is. Seventy-five apparently, though Jane has the good grace to say she knows I’m not that old, she was just trying to get the kid moving. There you go, Motivation 101.

Cape Le Grand National Park is the bottom right

And, we’re off again

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With 10 days to go before our flight back to Perth, I compile a to-do list.

  • Transfer money to our Australian account
  • Generate International Vaccine Certificates
  • Complete DPDs – these are Digital Passenger Declarations, a new treat for travellers to and from Australia: complete within one week of travel
  • Apply for our G2G passes – readers with good memories will recall these from our initial arrival into WA
  • Check requirements for pre-departure and on arrival Covid testing
  • Arrange with car and caravan storage for suitable pick up time
  • Suspend NZ car rego and insurance
  • Investigate travel insurance – more on this later
  • Investigate reciprocal health care agreement NZ/Australia
  • Advise social security we will be out of the country
  • Change our NZ phones to pay-as-you-go – we will get Australian SIMs, but need active NZ numbers for bank transfer codes etc
  • Arrange to shut off the power to the apartment
  • Suspend my availability for good bitches baking
  • Suspend my membership for shutupanddance
  • Register on the Safe Travel website
  • Get flu vaccinations
  • Make an appointment with the doctor to stock up on 6 months worth of prescriptions drugs
  • Make a list of what to take – more importantly, what not to forget

Scott’s list

  • pack fishing gear
keen to get on the road again with Walter in the back seat

The joys of insurance. If you want to see Scott get fired up about a subject, ask how he likes insurance and insurance companies – then take cover. I’m not sure why it takes us until now to be more discerning about how the various insurances work. If you already have this figured, feel free to be smug: for the rest of you, here’s a heads up if planning a few months overseas now that you can, and actually want to.

We have Southern Cross medical and pay an exorbitant monthly fee, which increases progressively with our age and decrepitude: both happening more quickly than we would like. We wonder, why are we paying our medical insurance which we can’t use while overseas? Aren’t we paying for medical cover as part of travel insurance? Indeed, why are we paying any travel insurance?

A bit of detective work (a five minute internet search) informs me: You can put your Southern Cross membership on hold for overseas travel on 3 separate occasions over the lifetime of your policy, ……. Any single period of suspension must be for a minimum of 2 months, and for no more than 3 years (36 months). So, had we mused about this before our first trip four years ago, we would have saved between $7,000 and $8,000 in payments over the two trips already taken. ARRRGGHHH.

But wait, there’s more. I always take out travel insurance because, well, because. But now, two things: the Landcruiser and caravan are fully insured in Australia, so no need for third party liability etc. Ok, so only medical then. Hang on. What’s all this reciprocal health we hear about? Another intense internet search: If you are a New Zealander visiting Australia: You’re covered for medically necessary inpatient and outpatient care in a public hospital under the Reciprocal Health Care Agreement. Outpatient care doesn’t include visits to a medical practitioner.

So that’s that then.

Two days to go and everything is done except the final packing. Where are we going? Directly to Perth, as that’s where the Landcruiser and caravan are in storage. Assuming everything is in working order we will head south east to Esperance, and Lucky Bay in Cape Le Grand National Park. We are reliably informed it is even more beautiful than Coral Bay, which we find hard to believe, but are willing to investigate. From there it’s back north and west to Coral Bay for more swimming with humpbacks, manta ray, and, this time, whale sharks. Last year we were there too late in the season and the whale sharks had moved on. This year we’re there in late May through early June for three glorious weeks.

Esperance, bottom right. Coral Bay top left.

The in-between bits are subject to whim and random recommendations from other travellers. The overall plan from Coral Bay is across the top into the Northern Territory to revisit a couple of favourites, including Emma Gorge. It was our initial outback trip from Darwin to Broome (by car, no caravan) in August 2018 that drove our decision to buy a caravan and tour Australia; we were, and continue to be, transfixed by the Australian landscape.

Should you be so inclined you can read about that trip on my old blog here – part one , here – part two Kununurra to the Bungle Bungles, and here – part three Bungle Bungles to Broome and the final part, the amazing Horizontal falls.

While we won’t cover all the same ground, some is inevitable due to lack of alternative routes: we Will not be making the news by getting lost crossing the Great Sandy Desert, or any other desert for that matter. We do plan on travelling down through outback Queensland and NSW, assuming no floods, bush fires, plagues of mice, ant infestations or, less worryingly, Covid.

If we have failed to connect with you in person over the six months since we have been home – apologies. It isn’t personal – I just don’t know where the time goes.

In breaking news – as a big welcome to us, the West Australian Government has announced that from Friday 29th April there is no need for G2G passes, restrictions on gathering numbers have been lifted and there is no mask mandate. Seems they are going the full Boris.

So, bye for now.

sunset over the Indian Ocean

My Week of COVID

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The hunter-gatherer is away for a week doing what he does: hunting, or more precisely fishing, and gathering.  Following on from our time north of Auckland I have been hankering for some beach swimming.  Yes, there is beach in Wellington but sadly the great unwashed emptied their toilets into it for three weeks and that makes it less appealing.  Anyway, the Kapiti coast is quiet.

Monday I drive to a lovely AirBnB up at Paraparaumu Beach for a few days: set back from the beach and with a private lane through to the sand, there’s a very nice view, lots of sun, and miles of beach to walk along and ocean for swimming.  Kapiti Island looms large. Terns and gannets swoop and dive. 

Kapiti island

Tuesday No symptoms: I walk two kilometres up the beach to a cafe for the best mushrooms on toast I’ve ever had, and a great coffee.  The cafe is very popular with locals and the usual suspects are all in attendance: lycra clad cyclists;  mums and bubs; tradies fuelling up on bacon and egg butties; older couples out for a walk.  Sorry everyone, but that’s how Covid rolls these days.  Scanning in, which I did,  is unlikely to help with notifications, and yes, I have let the cafe know.

Walking back along the beach I have a kilometre or so to go, when I know I need to go. An abdominal gurgle and spasm has me scanning the dunes for urgent relief – not happening. Diarrhoea is one of the less common symptoms of Covid and I’m not sure if this is my early warning notice, but suffice to say it is an uncomfortable butt clenching waddle back home.  It is only when I have the key in the door my body defies my will.  It is lucky there’s a washing machine available.

By afternoon I feel fine and happily go swimming in the sea, which is warm and quite calm. 

Wednesday Bodily functions return to normal but I feel a bit feverish – hot and cold sweats, runny nose, but no sore throat or cough.  I exercise deep denial as I have another two days here and it is beautiful and I don’t want to leave and most of all I don’t want Covid. 

Responsibility trumps denial so I mask up and drive to get RATs. There’s a queue, of course.  Two in fact. For the first one, which you only find you need to be in once you reach the head of the second one, you register and get an order number.  Then you re-join the queue you were in in the first place (grrr), show your order number and pick up the tests. 

I then drive home, read the instructions, screw my courage to the sticking point, perform a lobotomy though the nasal passage and there you have it. The positive line appears within one minute so there’s no denying it, but I wait the full 15 before melting down.

this is what a positive test looks like

Time to call the AirBnB host and the cafe – which is the only place I’ve been since Sunday – then sadly pack up and drive home. 

When I call our building manager to tell him I’m Covid positive, he answers croakily from his bed – his whole family is down.  An email from our property manager lets me know our tenant is down. Notifying friends and family, return emails and texts list people they know who are also suffering or recovering, along with many offers of help with shopping and so on. I am not alone. 

Or I am. The hunter-gatherer is still away and there’s no point him returning. If he gets infected we would have another seven days isolation.  We are off to a family gathering in Taranaki next weekend and don’t want to miss it, or infect anyone else.  We’ve also promised to bring, pāua, fish and crayfish.  Showing extreme concern for my well being, one of my brothers, that’s you Steven, asks if we can send the seafood. 

Like good boy and girl scouts, we have a stock of paracetamol, ibuprofen, nasal spray, throat lozenges, a pulse-oximeter, tissues, oh – and toilet paper, though isn’t quite as urgent now.  

Thursday Wake up feeling tired after a slightly feverish night – still hot and cold sweats, runny nose, bit of body ache.

A kind neighbour drops off a coffee outside the door.  Did I mention our coffee machine is at the doctor’s? Worst week ever for that to happen.   However, very kind friends drop off a spare machine and coffee. I assemble it and there is only one piece that doesn’t fit  – it’s making coffee anyway. So far there is no impact on my taste or sense of smell.

My doctor phones. Clearly some Health system somewhere is working: she has a notification identifying me as positive.  I assume the aforementioned order number connects to my vax certificate which connects to my NHI which connects to my doctor.  She tells me the diarrhoea is more common in children, but won’t discount it as a symptom.  We agree I am smart enough to call if I need help so there’s no need for a nurse to ring me every day.  We disagree on which day is day one of my seven days.  I win and she will never know. 

Thank God for Netflix. Thank God for Aloe tissues.

my nose survives thanks to aloe tissues

Friday

It occurs to me I have not taken my temperature at all through this time.  I haven’t felt as though I have a fever even though my body temp runs hot and clammy at times.  I definitely feel better today though still have a tap for a nose.  Aches minimal, still no sore throat. 

I feel I’m through the worst. By my calculations I’m Day three, so I do another test. Sadly, it looks much like the last one. Oh bugger. Still positive.

MIQ: week two, in pictures

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Walking the 100 steps around the forecourt, you can pause and read the letters of praise and thanks from former inmates

As I’ve mentioned, the fifth floor has the added excitement of corners, but there’s also the opportunity to peer into the rooms of other detainees and judge their creative pursuits

no prizes for guessing how they spend their time

And when we go for our Covid tests, the staff, possibly trying to alleviate their own boredom, get all halloween-y

We approach the last days

Now only one!

Roll on tomorrow. We’ve clearly been here too long: this morning room service rang and, in a worried tone, tell me they haven’t received our coffee order. When the kitchen is anticipating your every need, it’s time to leave.

In an example of bureaucratise, we will be moved to a hotel closer to the airport tomorrow. Our inbound flight touched down at 7.52pm. If your flight touches down at 8.00pm or later, you stay in the MIQ facility one extra night and leave first thing next morning. I can tell you already get the picture. At 5.30pm tomorrow, 1 November, they will move us to a non MIQ hotel, which is paid for by MBIE (aka the Government) then at 7.00am Tuesday 2 November we fly back to Wellington, clutching our dispensation to leave Auckland in our cold, dead hands. Huzzah! (we have been watching The Great)

And returning from our penultimate walk on level five this morning, I chuckle at the sign forbidding resting in what can only be termed a come hither pose, taking a toileting break, and soliciting for the purposes of prostitution. Possibly some people are having a more exciting time than we are.