Worlds

We had decided all the way back in May (which now seems like ages ago) to go to the area of north-central Australia around Darwin known colloquially as the “Top End.” But because of the domestic flight patterns in Australia, we needed to go to Melbourne to get to Darwin. And because the world road cycling championships were being held in Melbourne this year, we thought it would be a good idea to wrap it all into one vacation.

And then Chelsea had a great opportunity to go see some of the recent flooding in the Murray-Darling Basin and meet with some local people working on various aspects of water management. So I found myself up at 4 AM in the morning, having packed two big bags of cycling gear (for Melbourne) and hiking gear (for the Top End) as well as two bicycles into bike boxes (from our friendly local bike shop) the previous night. I got the boxes and the bags to the rail terminal, checked in, found a seat on the train, and went straight to sleep. It took a courier truck and a taxi to get me and all of the luggage to the train depot – apparently there are no taxis large enough for bike boxes, and courier services refuse to carry human beings. Oi.

When I woke up from my nap, the train was descending the back side of the Adelaide Hills through the spring countryside of southernmost South Australia. Huge yellow fields of canola are in bloom right now, and the white shapes of young lambs scamper about the green pastures. The flooding had reached this area too – the train often passed lake-sized puddles.

Arriving at Melbourne’s Southern Cross station in the evening, I was met by Geoff Dale (thankfully, because I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage two bike boxes and 30 kilos of other luggage). After a brief day with the Dales, we caught our flight from Melbourne to Darwin. (That’s another story.) After ten days up in the Top End, we returned to Melbourne and the start of Worlds.

The world cycling championships are run annually by the UCI (the international cycling federation) and it is the only significant event where riders race for their country rather than their trade team. So, for example, if you are George Hincapie, you ride for the USA rather than the Swiss-based Team BMC. Denis Menchov rides for Russia instead of his Dutch-run Rabobank team. For people like Heinrich Haussler, born in Australia but raised in Germany, this raises confusing questions (Haussler had been listed as a German rider for a few years, but officially became an Australian for bike racing purposes this last year, just in time to not be selected for the Australian team).

Worlds consists of a road race, where teams of riders compete to see who is first across the finish line, and a time trial (TT), with individual riders trying to ride a course in the fastest time possible. There are races for the men, women, and under-23 men (apparently there aren’t enough under-23 women to make up a field).

Anyway, 2010 was one of the few times that Worlds has been held outside of Europe and the first time they have traveled to the southern hemisphere. The previous year, when Mendrisio, Switzerland hosted Worlds, Cadel Evans had become the first Australian to win the rainbow jersey of world champion. So it was that all of Australia was brimming with pride to have Worlds on their soil. Or at least they were brimming with pride until the week before Worlds, when the AFL Grand Final (sort of the Australian equivalent to the Super Bowl) ended in a tie. Because the rules don’t provide any sort of tie-breaking mechanism, the teams were left with nothing to do except play a repeat game the following weekend. Right during Worlds. That was okay with us, because it meant less people at the race venue, but it was a blow to the race organizers. The Grand Final replay was on Saturday, which was particularly hard for the women’s road race on that day. Women’s cycling gets the shaft enough as it is, so it seemed a bit unfair to the riders that day. Nevertheless, the attendance at the men’s road race on Sunday was in excess of 150,000, significantly more than the 90,000-odd spectators at the Grand Final replay, a good sign for the health of cycling in Australia.

Things kicked off with the time trials on Wednesday and Thursday. Taylor Phinney (“mini-Phinney” and also from Chelsea’s hometown of Boulder, CO) represented the United States admirably, winning the U-23 time trial by a fraction of a second. I guess it helps to be the son of two Olympic gold medalists in cycling. Emma Pooley of Britain capped off a great season by winning the women’s TT, and Fabian Cancellara won the men’s title for the fourth time in his career. The men’s TT was a great event, with Tony Martin coming in third despite having to change a wheel and David Millar putting in a huge effort to grab the silver. Cancellara was hugely impressive – he rode the entire race strongly and in control, making it look easy as he finished about a minute ahead of Millar.



Cyclists celebrate events like the Tour de France or Worlds by going out and riding. Almost every day that we were in Melbourne we rode. Sometimes it was just Chelsea and I, sometimes we rode with Geoff, and on occasion I rode in a small group with Geoff and some other riders. We rode on the local Boulevard, the Melbourne institution of Beach Road, and climbed up into the Dandenongs. We also ate well and frequently, a great part of being at the Dales’ house. Cycling does give one an appetite, and between all of the meals and snacks and afternoon cappuccinos, it is a miracle that I didn’t gain 5 kilos. Maybe Geoff was trying to slow me down for the climbs.

On Friday, we headed down to Geelong for the whole day to watch the men’s U-23 road race. It was a good race to watch, with Ben King (USA) going solo off the front for most of the race. Eventually, despite the two steep climbs on the looped course, the race came down to a sprint and Michael "Bling" Matthews won. The Aussies went crazy for their hometown boy getting the gold medal. Taylor Phinney showed well again, actually tying in a photo finish with an Italian for third. Phinney is going to BMC next year, and it looks like he’ll have a great career ahead of him.


As the Grand Final dominated the nation’s attention on Saturday, the women (most of whom had never heard of the Grand Final) set off to race for 127 km. We watched the race on TV so that Geoff could catch the Grand Final as well as the cycling. The Grand Final replay turned out to be blowout and was effectively over by halftime. However, down in Geelong a great race was brewing, with most of the favorites sticking together at the front up each of the climbs. Emma Pooley put in a huge effort to set up her countrywoman Nicole Cooke, and so when Cooke and Judith Arndt (GER) got free on the last climb, it looked like they had first and second in the bag. However, the run-in to the finish was too long, and the pair was reeled in inside of the last kilometer, setting up a sprint that was won by an anonymous androgynous Italian. Great race, but a bit of a disappointment at the finish.

Finally it was down to the men’s road race on Sunday, which is considered the main event of Worlds. After the obligatory breakaway and some minor skirmishing at the front, the race got serious, with Vincenzo Nibali making the field chase on the climbs. Cadel Evans put in an admirable defense of the title, covering every move for Allan Davis, the Aussies’ sprinter. On the final lap, the pre-race favorite, Phillipe Gilbert of Belgium, made a huge move to get free of the field. However, the long (5 km) flat between the final climb and the finish offered too much time for the main field to hunt Gilbert down and set up the sprint. To my delight, the man who emerged head and shoulders ahead of everyone else was Thor Hushovd of Norway. Hushovd is one of my favorite cyclists, but his victory was all the more satisfying because Norway had a total of three riders in the race. Typically the Worlds road race is won by the big nations who have long cycling traditions and lots of riders, like Italy, Spain, and Belgium. For a Norwegian to win Worlds is a little bit like a Kenyan winning the luge at the Winter Olympics. Nice one, Thor!

Wakadu Kakadu

The rest of our time in the Top End was spent in Kakadu National Park, which is very different than any National Park I’ve ever visited. This is primarily so because for most parks in the US, you can see an awful lot of pretty things just by driving the main road through the park. I’m not saying this is a good thing, because I think the statistics about how many people come to National Parks and don’t make it more than a quarter mile from their cars is quite sad. But, the difference with Kakadu just struck me because if you drive the main road in Kakadu, you don’t really see much. There are a few turn offs where you can see a few things, but really, to see anything interesting, you pretty much have to walk, or drive on rough 4WD roads. (The same statistics are probably true for Kakadu, it’s just that people aren’t walking very far from their 4WD vehicles.)

But, that’s beside the point. We spent a fair bit of time walking, and also birding. Matt was on somewhat of a birding mission, because there are five or seven endemics in the Top End, and Matt was hoping to see as many as he could. So, while Matt was still with us, we made some major efforts to try and find White-lined Honeyeaters and White-throated Grasswrens (at least I think that’s what they’re called.) We were unsuccessful on the grasswrens, only Matt saw the honeyeater, but fantastically, we all got to see the Banded Fruit Dove and the Partridge Pigeon. These two birds were precisely where the guidebook said they would be, and what fantastic birds they were. And, we saw a Large-tailed Nightjar and heard Barking Owls (sound like dogs) and Bush Stone-curlews (they make a long, eerie, mournful cry).

We also enjoyed some excellent swimming beneath Gunlom Falls (really a trickle when we were there at the end of the dry season); learned about bush tucker (how to forage in the wild for food – essentially, what Aboriginal people eat in Kakadu); and had the most amazing burgers at Cooinda on our final night with Matt.

The day Matt left, we met up with our guides Patrick and Penny for a bushwalking trip in Kakadu. Because 4WD vehicles are required to get to the best spots in Kakadu, we opted to go on a guided walking trip with Willis Walkabouts. We had heard good things from our friends in the Adelaide Bushwalking Club, and decided it made sense for us, since we didn’t know anything about Kakadu, and weren’t really prepared to rent high clearance 4WD vehicles. Also, access to many parts of Kakadu are limited because the land is important to the Aboriginal people who live there (usually called traditional owners). Permits are often required, and some areas are only accessible through approved guide services. Dinner Creek, where we went on our walk, is one such area.

We’re used to going walking on our own, and have never before used a guide service for an overnight trip. Although there were some parts I didn’t really enjoy about the guided trip, one thing that was absolutely incredible was the food! Our guides had prepared all the food before hand (much of it dehydrated), and they made dinner for us every night. We had to bring our own breakfast and lunch, but not having to make dinner was incredible. We had three course meals (soup, main meal, and dessert), and it was just fantastic not having to think about cooking at the end of the day. It felt seriously luxurious.

The walking itself was different from any other walking I’ve ever done. Much like driving in Kakadu, where you have to drive quite a ways to see something interesting, it seems like you have to walk quite a distance as well before you get to something interesting. And, the interesting things always involve water, and particularly places that are salt-water-crocodile-free so that you can swim. It’s really hot up in the Top End and there are lots of flies, which means that the best part about walking is swimming. But, you can’t just swim anywhere because there are salties in many bodies of water. Fortunately for us, it was the end of the dry season, which means that there is not enough food left in the smaller streams to support a crocodile. However, during the wet season, the crocs can swim upstream for miles, making any water body unswimable except for those that are inaccessible to crocodiles because they are above high waterfalls.

We camped at two places with excellent swimming holes, and it was an incredible feeling to go swimming at night, just before bed, to cool off. We didn’t need sleeping bags, and just had a sheet for cover. We didn’t put the fly on the tent, which meant we could also see the moon every night. Unlike most places, where you’d rather it not get dark, night time in the Top End was a welcome time. I began to see why so many creatures in Australia are nocturnal – why would you go out in the hot sun when you can move easily in the cool of night?

Our trip ended with a dinner back in Cooinda, and then a cruise in the Yellow Waters wetland, where salties and birds abound. We saw Jacanas (called “the Jesus bird” because it looks like they can walk on water with their especially large, webbed feet), beautiful kingfishers, night herons, darters, and brolgas. It was an excellent way to finish up our time there, except for the fact that we were trying to figure out how to get back to Darwin from Kakadu (a 3+ hour drive). It’s sort of a long story, but the short version is that we had arranged for one of the people coming on the following guided walk to pick up a rental car for us and drive it out to Kakadu so that we could drive it back the following day. I know it sounds like an unusual arrangement, but I had called the rental agency ahead of time (Alamo/Europcar) and made sure this was okay. They had taken a copy of my driver’s license, and agreed that I could be the second driver. Except that when the guy went to pick up the car, they told him that it wasn’t possible, and that I wouldn’t be insured if I drove it. Extremely frustrating since there really weren’t any other options for us to get back to Darwin.

So, Dave and I spent our last night and morning in Kakadu asking everyone at the campground if they were driving back to Darwin the following day (we had a flight to catch) and if they had room for two. We still hadn’t found a ride by the following morning, so we hung out by the check out desk to ask people leaving that day. I asked one guy, and he told me that he had the space, but that he had a fridge and a generator in the seats and two little kids, which just meant it would be too hard. He walked away, and a little disheartened, I looked for our next possibility. But, about five minutes later, he amazingly returned and said, ‘Come on, we’ll give you a lift.’ He and his family were taking the year to drive around Australia with their caravan. It was so kind of them to take us. We had to move the fridge and generator into the caravan, and then basically acted like babysitters for their two adorable kids that day. The title of this blog is in honor of the dad because when his kids would say something that was cool or interesting, he would say, “Wakadu” since they were in Kakadu. I thought it was great.

We also got to head up to Ubirr and Cahill’s Crossing to watch some exciting fishing. The river there is a tidal river, and so when the tide comes in, the little fish swim upstream to stay in the freshwater. The barramundi (the salmon of the Top End) follow the little fish, and the salties sit waiting for the barramundi to swim by. The fishers wait on the banks (not really all that far from the crocodiles) and also try to catch the barramundi. It’s lunch time for everyone. The guy who was driving us wanted to catch a barra (so did his wife, just so he would stop trying everywhere they went), and so we got to watch. It was pretty amazing to watch the crocs, just waiting patiently for a fish, and then to suddenly watch them strike out with a massive crunch. They sit there with their arms and legs spread out so they can feel the movements of the fish. Pretty incredible.

And, an unexpected but great detour for us on the way back to Darwin. We did make it back in time for our flight, and even got to go to the Mindil Beach Markets, which had been highly recommended. So, though Kakadu was at times Wakadu, we had a great time there, and would definitely recommend going if you’re looking for something different.

Pine Creek

We left Katherine Gorge and headed for the thriving metropolis of Pine Creek. While most people either blink and miss Pine Creek, or stop for petrol because there hasn’t been any for a hundred or more kilometers, we had specifically planned to spend some quality time in Pine Creek. Why you ask? Well, to see the Hooded Parrot of course. If you think I’m kidding, you can in fact purchase post cards of the Hooded Parrot in the petrol station at Pine Creek. Hooded Parrots have put Pine Creek on the map. And, wonderfully, we saw the Hooded Parrots in all of their turquoise-green glory. They really were beautiful birds, and we were fortunate enough to be able to get them in the scope.

We also saw Cockatiels, a tree full of flying foxes (apparently they’re not bats, but they look like enormous owl-sized bats when they fly around at night), Australian Figbird, a couple having some kinky foreplay involving slapping in the front seat of their van, and the scenic Pine Creek sewage ponds. Why did we go to the sewage ponds you might also ask? Why, to see birds of course. At the sewage ponds, we saw Rajah Shelducks, Australasian Pratincole, Black-fronted Dotterels to name just a few.

We decided to celebrate our birding victory with a dinner at the only place in town, the local pub. We found out it was steak night, which sounded excellent. The woman asked us which cut of meat we wanted. Then, she piled them all on a plate, handed it to us, pointed to her right and said, “Grill’s over there.” Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything. I’ve certainly never had the opportunity to cook my own meal at a restaurant before, which is probably why I didn’t do such a great job cooking our steaks. They were good, but definitely on the very pink-red side. The problem was that I’ve never actually cooked a steak before, and so all I could think of was my Uncle Joe’s steak-cooking mantra: sip and flip. Essentially, you just leave the steak on its side long enough for you to take a sip of beer, and then you flip it. I generally like my steak on the rare side, so I thought this might be a good plan for me. Unfortunately, the steaks were a bit thicker than your average steak, so I ended up going back to the grill after a few bites of my steak in an effort to have my steak a little less rare.

Anyways, after our afternoon and morning in Pine Creek, I feel quite confident that I could write the guidebook for the town. I know the best places for exercise, wildlife-viewing, Aussie-style cooking classes, and adult entertainment. Maybe Lonely Planet will let me be the Pine Creek contributor to the next edition of their Australia guidebook…

Katherine Gorge

One of the strangest things for me is to meet someone you know from one part of your life in a completely different part of the world. Especially if you’ve never been to a place before, it’s a little odd to meet someone familiar there. But it’s also a bit comforting – even though you have no idea what the place is going to be like, at least you’ll recognize a face. In September we flew up to Darwin, in the Top End of Australia, to meet our friend Matt there. I knew he was going to be there waiting for us in the airport, but it was almost amazing to see him there, looking at home in his sandals and binocular tan. We had arranged to meet, but ‘See you in Darwin’ seemed sort of like saying “See you in Estonia.”

The first thing you notice when you get off the plane in Darwin is that it is hot. Even in the spring, it was typically hitting 35-40 C during the day (that’s about 95-104 F, for the metrically challenged). Matt had spent the last four weeks birding in Borneo, Malaysia, and northern Queensland and was finishing his trip off with a week in the Top End. We promptly left the airport and began our 3 hour journey south to Katharine Gorge. We stopped at the markets in Palmerston where we had our first taste of Thai Paw Paw salad. Spicy, but very delicious. From there, we drove directly to Nitmiluk National Park in Katherine Gorge, pitched our tent amongst the grazing wallabies, and went straight to sleep. Our plan for Katherine was to paddle up the gorge, spend the night, and then paddle back. Our ‘canoes’ turned out to be more like wide sea kayaks than canoes, which made for some cozy paddling, particularly since we had to fit large barrels (to keep our stuff dry) between our legs. Nevertheless, we were happy to be in our kayaks and not on the tour boats with the loud speakers, since the tour boats can only go to the second gorge.

Paddling up the gorge was excellent. We went by beaches with signs that said, “Danger: Crocodile Nesting Area”, but didn’t see any live crocodiles. Fortunately, these were the nesting sites of freshwater crocodiles (‘freshies’), which are generally non-aggressive unless you mess with their nest. We also saw several wonderful birds, including Rainbow Bee-eaters, a Chestnut-Quilled Rock Pigeon, Fairy Martins, and Pheasant Coucals.

The paddling was relatively easy, even when we were going upstream, but portaging the kayaks between the gorges is hard work, particularly because the kayaks weigh as much as a small elephant. I was certainly glad that it wasn’t my own personal kayak that I was dragging over the large, unstable rocks. Thankfully, you don’t have to portage between the first and second gorges, but some of the later portages were hard. Some even took 45 minutes or more! Ugh. Whatever thoughts we had of paddling up to further, more secluded campsites were quashed by a series of increasingly difficult and lengthy portages past the sixth gorge. But the scenery was worth it – particularly in the furthest gorge we visited, which was set deep between towering sandstone walls.

We camped in the fifth gorge, at a very lovely campsite called Smitt Rock. Sharing the gorge (but across the river) was a family with four rowdy teenage boys who really enjoyed jumping off the rocks into the gorge. We sort of expected the parents to suggest that they be a little bit quieter, but the parents were busy having romantic paddling trips by themselves. It was actually quite funny. The father, who was rather muscular, would sit astride the stern of the canoe (they actually had canoes) as if he were a gondolier, and paddle his mistress around to secluded spots in the gorge. She sat in the front (without a paddle, which meant the father had to work extra hard to keep the going in a straight direction), and they went of on secret escapades while their sons did cannonballs into the water. Although we would have preferred a quiet gorge to ourselves, the entertainment value was top-notch. In fact, the next morning, they were also paddling back down and out of the gorge. There was a bit of a breeze, and two of the boys thought that they should try to make a sail out of their sleeping bag and canoe paddle. Needless to say, they were most unsuccessful, but we had to bite our lips to keep from laughing too much when they came within earshot. Their conversation went something like this:
Boy 1: “What’s wrong with you, mate? It’s not that hard to make a sail.”
Boy 2: “Dude, it’s hard for me. I don’t know which end [of the sleeping bag] to use.”
Meanwhile, their canoe was heading sideways into the bank.

We meandered our way back down the gorge, and just before the end of our trip, we managed to see a freshwater crocodile. The view from our very low kayaks was great, and we managed to see it before it slipped under water to get away from the massive tour boat heading toward it.

Despite the difficult portaging and the bogan campers, we had a lovely time in Katherine, and were happy to have the cool water to help us adjust to the 35 degree C days in the Top End. Our only major issue was that I left an entire set of clothes in the bathroom at the campsite on the first night. I didn’t realize I had done so until we got back the next day, but they were already gone, and had not been returned to the lost property. It wasn’t a big deal, but I still couldn’t believe that I went into the bathroom to change clothing, and walked out without my clothes. Who does that? Me apparently, and not just once…

Unfortunately, the people at Nitmiluk were most unhelpful when I was trying to locate my clothing. So, while I can highly recommend paddling Katherine Gorge, I wouldn’t recommend that you leave anything in the restrooms, because you will have a hard time getting it back.

The birds and the ... monotremes

After spending some time with our birding friend Matt in Kakadu, we were inspired to start learning and noticing the birds near Adelaide and wherever else we traveled. Dave got me the Australian bird book for my birthday before we came, and so we had decided that we would bring our binoculars with us to Australia. While that may seem like a simple decision, our binoculars are pretty heavy, and we had pretty substantial baggage weight limitations. We realized we hadn’t been putting the book or our binoculars to much use thus far, and so decided it was time we start looking for birds. We started to take more notice of birds around Adelaide, beginning with our drive up through the Barossa Valley for a farewell dinner at my advisor’s house up near Kapunda. We saw some lovely little birds on this trip, including Musk Lorikeets and Zebra Finches (that’s pronounced zeb-rah, not zee-bra down here). These small positive identification victories were just the sort of encouragement we needed.

We had our first chance to do some legitimate birding on Kangaroo Island, right before leaving Adelaide. Like many islands, there are a number of endemic birds. Although we didn’t see the Glossy Black Cockatoos, we did manage to see Crescent Honeyeaters, Purple-gaped Honeyeaters, Pied and Sooty Oystercatchers, Silvereyes, Cape Barren Geese, and Little Penguins! We actually went on a tour to see the penguins, but it was a really excellent tour, and well-worth it. These penguins (the smallest penguin of all, hence the name) stay out at sea feeding all day. At night time, once their eggs have hatched and they have little chicks waiting in the nests, they return to feed their babies. Getting onto shore, however, is not easy and quite dangerous. Seals think little penguins make great dinners, and they are able to catch them when they get close to the surface as they come ashore. So, the penguins have to be careful and sneaky. Once they’re on shore, as long as they’re not being chased by a seal, the only thing they have to do is climb what must feel like Mt. Everest and feed their starving chicks. These penguins can only waddle, but they have to climb up steep, slippery rocks and cliffs in order to get to their nests. It takes them quite a while, and they seem to climb in spurts, resting regularly. However, they are amazingly cute to watch as they waddle up to a rock, and then hop up to the next spot.

They must have an incredibly strong desire to successfully pass on their genes, because the greeting they receive when they finally make it to the nest is not a friendly one. The chicks essentially mob the parents begging for food. It’s especially bad if there is only one parent, as the chicks really start to compete with each other for the food. All I can say is that if my kids attacked me after I had spent all day looking for food, risked being eaten by a seal, and then hiked up a serious mountain just to feed them, they would be learning to cook for themselves. In short, the penguin tour was excellent, and Dave and I stayed watching the penguins even after the guide left. In fact, we stayed until the flashlight battery started to die, and we could no longer see them in the dark. If you do get to Australia, and you want to see the Little Penguins, I can highly recommend the tour out of Penneshaw on Kangaroo Island. It does mean you have to get over to KI, but it’s a very informative, reasonably-priced tour run by the South Australian agency that does wildlife (I don’t actually know their name). It’s not an over-priced touristy gimmick, which I have a feeling some of the penguin tours might be.


After KI, our next birding adventure was Tasmania. Being relatively beginner-birders, Tassie was perfect because the possibilities are limited. If you see a small brownish bird with perhaps one noticeable characteristic, like a white line above and below the eye, you can identify it. Not because you got a really good look, but because there is only one possibility in Tassie. There are some pretty awesome birds there, including 12 endemics (of which we saw eight). The highlights were Green Rosellas, Yellow Wattlebirds, Tasmanian Native-hen (their call is really funny – it sounds like a squeaky bed…hee hee), the Scarlet and Flame Robins, and the Yellow-throated Honeyeater. We went on quite an adventure up a windy, narrow unsealed road at dusk looking for the Superb Lyrebird, but to no avail (the bird book describes them as shy and secretive—go figure).

However, we felt we more than made up for that by seeing two platypus, wombats, echidnas, wallabies, kangaroos, and pademelons (they look like fat hopping rats). In fact, the platypus might have been the highlight of the wildlife tour for me. We knew they were relatively difficult to see, mostly because they get scared off easily, and usually only come out at dawn and dusk during the summer months. We wanted to see one, but weren’t really too sure how we should go about it. We decided to stop at the Tamar Island wetlands (to look for birds), and saw that a platypus had been spotted there recently. We got to talking with the woman at the visitor centre, and she told us that we were unlikely to see one there, but that they were often spotted in La Trobe. Having a flexible plan, we decided that we would head to La Trobe that evening to try and see a platypus.

We drove into town looking for dinner, and saw a sign that said “The Trout and Platypus Experience”, with a fork and knife symbol next to it, indicating food was served there. We weren’t sure whether that meant they served trout and platypus, but we ended up following the signs there, in part because nothing else seemed open in La Trobe. We arrived at the building – the giant platypus sculpture outside the front made it relatively obvious (did you know that La Trobe is the platypus capitol of the world?). We headed in and ordered some dinner, which fortunately did not involve platypus. A couple came in soon after us, inquiring about where they should meet the guide for the platypus tour that evening. Well, one thing led to another, and we ended up joining the tour that evening, which was most excellent.


Similar to the Little Penguin tour in Penneshaw, this tour was very reasonably priced and was run by the local Landcare group. It was really an amazing story – some people in the group decided to clean up a section of the Mersey River, and create a lake (prime platypus habitat) out of what used to be a gravel pit. They did that 16 years ago, and within 12 months of them restoring the area, they had platypus arrive. Ever since, they’ve been running tours whenever people want to go (at an incredibly cheap cost of $10pp). In fact, I think there are perhaps one or two people who do the tours (can you imagine how many they must have done by now!). Incredibly, the guy who gave us the tour told us he had been unsuccessful in finding a platypus only three times in the last 15 years, one of which had been the previous evening.

Fortunately for us, Dave was paying attention, and he spotted bubbles across the lake. When the platypus come out, they’re foraging, which they do by going underwater, digging around in the rocks and vegetation, and coming back up for air before going down again. They slowly release bubbles when they’re underwater, which is a good way to find them. At first the platypus was out in the center of the lake, which made viewing a bit difficult. But, almost as if our tour guide had trained the platypus to do so, it came right over to the bank, and slowly made a circle around the lake. We were able to move a few steps forward every time she went under, and watched her as she made her way around.

Since I’m on the subject, I may as well talk about the only other monotreme, which we also saw in Tasmania: the echidna. These guys are sort of a cross between porcupines and ant eaters. Anyways, they look so funny because they have these really long noses (Dave calls them the original pinocchio). They dig for insects with their nose, so when you see them, they primarily have their faces shoved into the ground. Still, they are very cute, especially when they look up at you. And, apparently baby echidnas are sometimes called ‘puggles’. Hee hee.



Anyways, I know I just went on a complete monotreme detour there, but it sort of fit in with the wildlife viewing theme of the whole blog. Our final especially notable experience (except for the Satin Bowerbirds in the Blue Mountains near Sydney) was our trip to the Blackbutt Reserve near Newcastle. We went in search of koalas (so our friend Eleanor could see them), and were pleasantly surprised to find a wide sampling of Australian birds in the reserve. Now, we can’t officially count these birds on our life lists since we saw them in captivity, but I don’t really care because seeing them up close and in the open was absolutely amazing. In fact, I would encourage you to google an image of the Tawny Frogmouth. What a crazy bird! And we stood face to face with one – not more than two feet from it. We also got to see Gouldian Finches, which look like brightly colored Easter eggs, Turquoise Parrots, an Eclectus Parrot, Apostlebirds, King Parrots, and Emerald Doves, to name just a few.



Many of you might be wondering how we could have spent so much time looking through binoculars, but if you haven’t done it before, I highly recommend giving it a try. Birds in the wild are, well, wild.

Blogging hiatus

Oh dear, what can I say? My passport has a stamp that says, “Departed Australia, 28 November 2010”, and we haven’t posted a blog for weeks, even months. I am going to make a valiant effort to write some blogs about the major happenings of the last few months of our time here. But, I think Dave was right when he told me it was more important to experience it than to write about it.

Still, I want to share our adventures, and also to have them recorded so we can read about them again in the future. So, hopefully over the next few weeks, we’ll post every so often about our adventures in Australia. However, we’re in Thailand for the next two weeks, so we may just have to wait until we get back to the US…

Catching up... and another funny story

As some of you have probably noticed, we haven't been the most consistent bloggers. I think what happens is that we fall behind in posting, and then we feel like we have to catch up on everything that's happened before we can write more current posts. Then, we don't feel like we have enough time to write about everything that's already happened, and so we end up not writing posts.

Dave made a good point the other day that we don't just have to write about big events on our blog. We can also include more day-to-day topics, and that this might help us keep our blog a little more current. A good idea indeed. So, while we are working to catch up on our recent trips (and we have some exciting things to share from our trip to Darwin and Melbourne!), I thought I would share a little story for this weekend.

The department I am a part of at UniSA had a conference this weekend, and had booked out a hotel for the visitors. They had two last minute cancellations, but couldn't cancel the hotel rooms on such short notice. They sent an email around to the department, asking if anyone was interested in having the rooms for the night. I thought it sounded like a fun idea -- we could stay late in the city without thinking about catching the train home -- and so responded to see if we could get a room. As luck would have it, the rooms were still available.

We checked into our room, which was really quite nice, apart from the strange painting on the wall. We meant to take our camera, but forgot. It would have been worth it just to take a picture of this picture. I'll try to describe it, though it's hard to imagine it without actually seeing it. The painting was a picture of a the top 3/4 of a woman. It looked as though someone had taken a picture of a naked woman, and then painted over it. Her body was covered in a pattern of diagonal squares of different colors, sort of like you might imagine a jester wearing. But, you could see her belly button and the bottom of her breasts as well, making it unclear whether the colored squares were clothing or not. That part of the painting would have been tolerable, but her eyes were also painted with this very strange makeup. They looked sort of like the eyes in Japanese anime, except they were narrow, slanted, and sinister looking. As bad as our picture was, it was better than the one in Judy and Graham's room, even though theirs was much smaller. Their picture was just a girl's head, with lots of letters and numbers behind and to the side of her head. But, her eyes were very disturbed and angry. They stared right at you and seemed to be saying, "What are you doing in my room?" Spooky.

Anyways, we had decided to make a night of it and go out for dinner, so we left the angry-eyed jester woman and headed downtown. We decided on a sushi restaurant for dinner (what is it about raw fish that tastes so good?). We ordered "the boat," which had a combination of sushi and sashimi. There were a number of Japanese people in the restaurant, but interestingly, we noticed that none of them ordered the boat. I'd always assumed that eating sushi was a traditional thing, and what most Japanese people would eat. But, after our experience, I wonder if it's not usual to have an entire meal consisting of raw fish. That certainly makes sense. We agreed we should return and try some of the other traditional Japanese foods served there.

We stopped by the Central Market to pick up some desserts on the way home. Judy, another student in my office, had gotten the other room, and so we thought it would be fun to have her and her husband over for dessert in our room. I had done a little research before hand, and found out that the hotel had a 'heated jet pool' on the 5th floor, with views of the city. Excellent! We had packed our swim suits (or, bathers as they call them here), and were looking forward to a dip in the hot water before bed. After a lovely dessert with Judy and Graham, we got into our swimsuits, and donned the bathrobes (which were almost impossible to get off the hangers) and slippers (which were too small for Dave) provided by the hotel, and headed up for some warmth.

We arrived to the top floor, opened the door, and were thrilled to find that we had the pool to ourselves. Also, we were excited that the pool was outside, and that we had a view of the tall city buildings (not really an incredible view, but not bad, either). We were feeling pretty special indeed, right up until we stuck a foot into the 'heated' jet pool. We had been expecting a hot tub, but the temperature of this pool was probably about the temperature of a swimming pool at a retirement home. Too warm to swim in for most people, but not quite warm enough to stand around in for any length of time. And indeed, after about a minute, we were feeling pretty cool. We looked around for the jets, thinking that maybe we needed to switch these on to get the heat going. We finally found the switch and turned it on only to have even colder water shoot out at us. And, the jets were industrial strength, pushing us to the far side of the pool.

The pool was not warm enough for a hot tub and too small to swim. After turning on the jets, we decided that the only practical thing you could do in the pool would be to run or swim against the current while its strength held you in place. But, if you did that, you would surely want to wear a tight fitting swimsuit. Mine nearly came off in all of the turbulence.

After a minute or two of strong jets and cold water, we decided we'd had enough. We jumped out, and shivering, put our bathrobes and slippers on and dashed back inside. When we got back to the room, we got straight into the hot shower.

Disappointing though the pool may have been, it was honestly pretty hilarious. We are still not sure why the hotel has that pool. It was like someone almost had a good idea, but not all of the pieces came together. Like when you bake a cake with lots of good ingredients but forget to put in the baking soda--everything just flops. Oh well! We did get to enjoy a nice breakfast (with the rest of the Workshop participants who we'd never met) the next morning, and got a complimentary weekend paper. And, they had the most fun little hotel-sized bathroom conveniences, including a dental kit with the smallest tube of toothpaste I've ever seen, and a shaving kit, with a similarly-sized tube of shaving cream.

Not bad at all, though I must say we were happy to sleep in our own bed last night if only because we didn't have a strange woman staring down at us with her scary eyes! I know these little boutique hotels want to be different, but whoever thought pictures like that were a good idea must be a little odd indeed!