Port Fairy

Yes, you read me right.
Either McKenzie or Elton John should be thrilled by the name of this town, I'm not sure which.
Not much to say about Friday. We drove the Hamilton Highway to Port Fairy, through fields of brilliant green dotted with cows and sheep. Then later, the fields became
the brightest shade of yellow that I have ever seen.


The flowers would become rape seeds, to be harvested for oil.
Many fields were waterlogged, two months into the rainy season. By January, everything will be brown again.

We checked into our cabin, about 15 miles the other side of Port Fairy, then returned to watch the mutton birds, otherwise known as shearwaters, returning to Griffith Island. It was freezing cold and windy, getting dark, but the awesome sight of thousands of birds returning to their habitat for the night was well worth it. The photo stinks, but you get the idea.
Whirling birds against a purple sky.


If you ever get to Port Fairy, Victoria, go to The Hub for some tasty dinner and dessert at not bad prices, an unusual combination in this part of the world.

On the road again...

...driving to Warragul, a small town east of Melbourne.
We stayed in Merimbula the night before, across from the golf course. We went for a walk on the course around twilight that night and saw kangaroos dotting the greens. The next morning, Jeff went out early to spot birds. The course was covered with roos and a groundsman told him that their course is famous for its pack of about 600 kangaroos. Apparently, they co-exist quite peacefully.

The drive through New South Wales was typically through gum tree forests, which consistently show signs of fire damage and are brown, dusty, and dotted with termite mounds. An echidna waddled across the road in front of us, lucky to escape with its life. Luckily, the roads aren't terribly busy and we don't see too much road kill, although Jeff swears he saw a dead koala one time. I don't want to think about it.
The landscape started to get greener almost as soon as we crossed the border into Victoria, looking like Oregon or New Zealand except for the flocks of cockatoos in the fields.


Australia is the land of slogans.
Take this one, for example. When I get home, I'll crop this photo so that you can read the writing. It says "Slowing down won't kill you."


Some of my other favourites are:
Break the drive, stay alive.
Drowsy drivers die.
(Very ominous, that one)
Take a break. Fatigue kills.
Long time dead so what's your hurry?
Slow down stupid.
Take a rest. Be our guest.
Fatigue is fatal.

The signs are frequent sights along the highways and gave us many moments of amusement. Although apparently, the government really believes that these will help to decrease driving deaths from fatigue. Personally, I think all the lumps in the roads are more than adequate for the job!

This blue-tongued skink was trying to climb a fence. There was a trio of boys watching it, but we noticed they kept their distance.
So did we.


Downtown Melbourne.


Even the freeway signs look like Oregon.

Dear blog...

...these are some of the things that I want to remember about Wednesday.
A visit to Birdland, in Batemans Bay.
The fulfillment of my dreams.
The cocky kookaburra that sat on the captive kookaburra cage and caused them to make a ruckus.


Petting a koala, at last.


Hobnobbing with roos in the kangaroo enclosure.


I was sneaking up on this group while taking a video and one of them came right up to the camera and put her nose on it. They thought I had food, I think, so were quite friendly, and very gentle and sweet.
This one had a little joey in her pouch.


No messing around with this ostrich.


Ostriches were originally from Africa and were brought into Australia by farmers. Some got loose and now they run around the country, terrorizing the natives.
The echidna is a weird and wonderful creature. This little fellow didn't stop moving. As you can see, I caught him on the run.


I held a python.
Be amazed.


And cuddled a wombat.


After all this riveting excitement, on to Bega, where the iconic Australian cheese factory resides.

Jeff, in his new Aussie hat.


The efficient cow.


The colourful cow.


Tillamook Cheese Factory, anyone?

Tuesday treks

Tuesday started with the blowhole at Kiama.


Then a trip inland around very narrow and windy roads to the Minnamurra Rainforest Reserve. It contains several distinct types of rainforest in one small area.

We were fascinated by the small leaf fig vines, which apparently surround a host tree and swallow it up until you have this.


It was a good hike along an amazingly constructed trail


and at the end was this waterfall.


I know, it's not Multnomah or Silver Falls, but this IS Australia!
This trail is well-known for lyre bird sightings, but several groups of schoolchildren pretty much nixed this possibility. Nothing like a nature trail and bird-watching with fifty screaming kids. But we did, in one quiet moment, see a lyre bird heading up a stream bed, which was slightly thrilling.

Then, on more narrow and even windier road (that's wind with a long i, not short) to the Barren Grounds Nature Reserve. Another hike, only shorter and flatter.
This view from Illawarra Lookout goes all the way to the sea. The lake to the far left is where Ben lives.


Then we drove and drove until I got whiny from doing all the driving. We were on a pretty remote road (one of several where we ended up backtracking on this day) so Jeff took a turn at the wheel. After about twenty minutes of breathless, white-knuckled gripping of the seat, I had a funny thought.

You must have been having a cow when I was driving in Sydney.
Uh-huh.
I laughed and laughed and praised him for his remarkable restraint.
Now we have both survived each other's driving on the wrong side of the road.
In the Hyundai Getz that Jeff calls a bucket of bolts.
And we're still traveling on.

We got to Batemans Bay that night and managed to find a fish and chips shop that was still open. My new strategy is to not buy dinner for myself, but to mooch off Jeff's plate. Or paper.

Monday tracks

Jeff said, "Why do New Zealanders call it a trek and Aussies call it a track?"
Um. Trek is what you do.
Track is what you do it on.
The joys of semantics and accents.

Yesterday, we...
walked on the beach and got wet feet in some tide pools


conversed with a cockatoo or two...
(The signs said "Please do not feed the wild animals)


Ate a hamburger with beetroot on it.
(Jeff, in one of his worst nightmares)
It was large but not delicious...


Ate the worst meaty pie I have ever had...
only some got stolen by a cheeky kookaburra, which made all the heartburn kind of worth it...
(note the gravy on his beak in the second picture)


Paddled up the Kangaroo River in a canoe
and back down again...


Whereupon, the camera ran out of battery power.
Then, we climbed a mountain that overlooked the river.
It was very steep and rocky and beautiful.
But you'll have to take my word for it.

If you ever get to the Royal National Park just south of Sydney, DO NOT EAT AT THE FOOD KIOSK BY THE VISTOR'S CENTRE!
You'll thank me later.

Rediscovering...

...the joys of being related.
As a child, I had no contact with the only grandparent who was still alive, who had been estranged from my Mum for years. My Dad had a bevy of siblings who we didn't see very often but who were part of a very rare group: people who adore me just because I exist. We moved to New Zealand when I was eleven, which essentially removed us from all extended family.
Almost ever since our marriage, Jeff and I have lived away from our parents and siblings. I have only had extended contact with my sister's children three times. So, while I have taken to role of Nana with gusto, I've never really had the chance to be one of those wonderful creatures.
An aunty.
The one who grew up with your mother and knows all of her foibles.
Who spoils you just because you are.

Now, I have Phoenix.
Who called me "hey" for the first few hours of our visit.
Hey, come with me.
Hey, are you done in the shower yet?
Who loves the animal book and chocolates that I bestowed on his little person.
The Spiderman-glow-in-the-dark shirt and Snuggle Puppy book not so much.
Then I graduated to "aunty."
Hey, Aunty Sue, can I have a cuddle?
He said, when we were talking about Anne, who he calls Gigi, "I love Gigi."
"Gigi loves you too, Phoenix."

Last night, before he went to bed, he came up to me and said, "I love you Aunty Sue."
While I suspect he was trying to delay the inevitable bedtime, I melted.
"I love you too, Phoenix."
How good is that?

This morning:
I love church. Do you love church?
Then Gigi called.
"Do you know who this is, Phoenix?"
"It's Aunty Susan!"
Ha!

Phoenix and Lorenzo.
Beautiful babies.

We're here

Traveling is stressful.
I do not think that this is an overstatement.
Consider this:
The day before we left, I discovered that I had booked the wrong starting date for our rental car, so I had to rebook the whole thing at a higher price.
I realized that we still did not have assigned seats on our Delta flight to Sydney, so had to make several calls to remedy that.
I got a letter from our insurance company telling me that I had forgotten to pay my car insurance.
I had to fight with Verizon to renew our internet at a reasonable price.
Note to self: remember that threatening to cancel works much better than being reasonable.
Then, our flight to Oakland was delayed.
And our flight to LAX was delayed.
Which was no big deal,except that I was worried the whole day that we would be so late getting to LAX that we would have trouble making our Sydney flight.
Then I couldn't get the WiFi to work at LAX and I couldn't get through to my nephew, Ben, to see if he was expecting us on Saturday.

One fourteen-hour flight later, we land at Sydney airport.
What a bustling, cosmopolitan place it is.
Check out this gorgeous creature,an employee of Emirates Air.


About fifteen women in these uniforms, all exotic beauties of different nationalities, stood in line next to us at Customs.
Didn't I feel dowdy?
So we finally figure out the pay phones, the currency, and the car rental, got hold of Ben, and we were on our way.
Picture me driving on the wrong side of the road, with a manual transmission, in a bustling city that is completely strange to me.
With Jeff navigating.
Yes, you read that right.
Jeff is refusing to drive.
He is also a hopeless navigator.
Although, to his credit, after an hour or so of wrong turns and backtracking, he got better.
I have only turned into the wrong side of the road about four times so far, and only in small roads.
And it was all worth it.
We are here with Ben and Le'ah and their two boys, Phoenix and Lorenzo.


We took a much-needed shower, had fish and chips for lunch by the lake in a very blustery wind, and visited a Buddhist temple.


These were part of a flock of very aggressive seagulls who stalked us for our chips.



Sydney is recovering from a dust-storm that covered thousands of square miles in red dirt. Apparently it went all the way up the coast to Brisbane and even over to New Zealand.



The wind is still fierce but the sky is blue and clear.


Till tomorrow.