It Never Stops Raining

There was a saying in Melbourne many years ago that, “It never rains but it pours”. Generally it meant you could have a spell of dry days and then when the rain came down it rained in bucketloads.

I don’t think anyone would use that particular phrase anymore because it so rarely rains in Melbourne. I now know the reason why. All the rain is in North West Tasmania and nowhere more so than Flowerdale.

We all know that rain is good. Rain replenishes the water supply, washes away the dirt and dust and makes our plants grow. However, there is a point where there is just too much rain and as much as I love it and have missed it over the years, I’d like it to stop raining, even if for a little while.

However, it never stops raining. If you go out in the morning it rains, the afternoon is the same and now I lie in bed at night and listen to the rain splattering on the roof. I’d like it to stop raining for a little while because everything is covered in mud. It is also hard to ride a bike or walk in constant rain and sometimes, just sometimes, it is nice to see the sun.

You see, we moved to Tasmania this year and the weather records now say it is the wettest winter in 30 years. It is over an inch above average each month. I reckon that makes it pretty wet.

I feel sorry for the folks back in Melbourne who desperately need the rain to fill the reservoirs. If I could, I’d tell the rain clouds to take a vacation over to Melbourne and rain on them for a while. I know that is not going to happen though because the rain clouds love it here. I’ve been humming another old saying, “rain, rain go away and come again another day,” but they never seem to hear me.

Sisters Beach

Sisters Beach and Rocky Cape

A long time ago Tasmania’s North West Coast was joined to Gippsland in Victoria. For those of you who have been to Gippsland you might be familiar with Wilson’s Promotory – a national park that is around 3 to 4 hours out of Melbourne and a great place to go bushwalking. When I was a teenager the Prom (as it was known) was a great place for school camps and an area was set aside for descending hordes of teenagers. The Prom has always been popular but in the last few years it has exploded and now you need to enter a lottery if you want to try and get a camp site over the busier periods.

Whilst the Prom has received an enormous amount of attention, the National Park at Sisters Beach on the NW Coast of Tasmania offers the same experience as the Promotory but with virtually no-one around. It might not be as established as the Prom but you certainly won’t need permits or take your turn in the lottery to explore its wonders. Various walks will take you to either Rocky Cape or to Anniversary Bay – a secluded beach that makes you feel you are at the end of the world. In fact if they were shooting another Pirates of the Caribbean it would be the perfect place for Johnny Depp and Co to find a hidden treasure.

There are indigenous caves that were used as shelters long ago, full of brackish water and the solitary echo of a people long gone. The various walks have a continous ascent before reaching spectacular views of the coast and fuana. Farmland also spreads out below but is only glimpsed every now and then. The place makes you feel like you’re a long way from anywhere when in fact it is only a 30 minute ride back to down. The magic of this national park is that it is unspoilt and that there are few people wandering its paths. Whilst it offers the same scenery and walks as the Promotory it is far more peaceful and feels so much more like unexplored terrain.

The past few Sundays I’ve gone walking for several hours through this National Park and found it peaceful, quiet and good exercise. It is like having Wilson’s Prom on my doorstep but without the three hour drive to get there.

Alpacas

On Sunday I went to the Serena Lodge Alpaca Farm in Stowport, just behind Burnie. I’ve been thinking for a while now about getting Alpacas and noticed the Lodge were holding an information day.

Alpacas aren’t the first thing you’d expect a midlife daredevil would race out to buy. After all, you can’t ride them like you can a camel or a horse, they don’t guard your property like a dog and they don’t catch pesky mice like a cat. However, they are rather cute and can, if you shear them and spin their wool, make fine jumpers and general outer garments.

There were all sorts of Alpacas on display, young and old, male and female, long shaggy coats or tight woolen ones. They reminded me of small camels with their big eyes and screwed up mouths. Alpacas are cute and will keep the grass down but I learnt that there is more to one than meets the eye. Yes they look adorable but like all pets they take a bit of looking after.

The Serena Lodge was a slick operation selling the Alpacas or exporting the wool. They provided food and drinks alongside the information session as well as a tour of the farm. However, I wouldn’t consider Alpacas as a viable business for people. The Alpaca farm reminds me of the Ostrich craze that hit Australian shores around 10 years ago. People went out, with no experience of Ostriches and bought thousands. After pouring all their time and money into setting up their Ostrich farm and waiting for the money to roll in they were left twiddling their thumbs and wondering why the industry never got off the ground.

Having said that, the Serena Lodge are doing a good job and have Alpacas at reasonably good prices for sale. Luckily, you can’t do an impulsive buy like you could a couch or washing machine and cart it off in the back of the car. The Alpacas have to be delivered and that gives me some time to think about how many I’d want and where I’d keep them.

Agfest 2009

Going to an Agricultural Festival doesn’t really sound like the sort of thing midlife daredevils would bother to do. After all, a trade festival about farming equipment would fail to excite most people let alone those seeking thrills and adventure. However, given that I’m living in the North West of Tasmania, in a farming community, the Agfest is a big event. Not only that, it is considered one of the annual seminal events in Tasmania. So much so that it attracts thousands of people of all age groups and even has interstate vendors lining up to show their wares.

So what can you expect from an agricultural festival other than plants, machinery and work clothes? Quite a lot really. Having grown over the years from its origins as a farmers bonanza it now includes tour companies, food, cars, motorbikes, alternative energies, camping, dog training and just about anything and everything you might want to put on a stand and flog. Added to this it is probably the biggest crowd you’ll ever see anywhere in Tasmania, especially in the North West, and makes you realise that there are other people living on the island besides the usual locals and squashed wildlife.

Indeed, the Agfest seems to attract such a large crowd because there is so much on offer. It is a well organised festival with plenty of food, toilets and areas to sit as well as a chance to look at some innovative technology and general gadgets. Set in a farmers field it easy to navigate your way around the huge space as you receive a comprehensive page guide when you enter the festival and it is organised into streets. There are street signs that includes Main Street and a number of avenues, making it really easy to meet up with people.

Although the festival wouldn’t appeal to everyone, particularly teenagers, it was worth a visit. For those thrill seekers looking for an adventure there are helicopter rides but this little daredevil had to go home.

The Morning Bike Ride

Riding from Flowerdale to Burnie takes around an hour and a half depending on the wind. Generally, this is a pleasant ride to work, Flowerdale is a rural area near the coast in North West Tasmania whilst Burnie is a small industrial city of 20,000 people. The bike route takes you along the Bass Highway – a flat road most of the time, not too much traffic and plenty of cows and horses that stare nonchalantly as I ride past.

I reach the roundabout after half an hour and the highway becomes easier to ride. The bike lanes appear just outside of Burnie and there is around 12kms of bike track. The wind picks up here though as the road meets the coast and exposes you to the full force of the sea winds. Starting at Doctors Rocks, a sheltered rocky area at the crossroads between Wynard and Burnie, the seaside hugs the road, around 50 metres away. The sea is usually calm and the only boats to be seen are the cargo ships. Very rarely a sailboat can be glimpsed in the distance but these are as infrequent as whale sightings.

The sea always gives me a good feeling. There is beauty to the ocean, the waves and the sand and the possibility for adventure. I think about how we are drawn to water, something about the oceans and its depths, the mysteries of the deep, the ships that crash and sink. The danger and the possibilities for escape are bound into novels and movies and continue to inspire the imagination.

Soon enough the shops and car yards emerge along the highway. More traffic comes from side streets, the first set of lights on my journey loom ahead. There are around 4 main traffic lights before you enter the town. The traffic slows down and the school buses appear. I keep going along the highway until I reach the main street of the town. I turn and follow the disused railway. It is only used to move freight these days but the stations are still there, the ticket booths closed down and no more fares to be issued for passing travellers.

It is a shame that the railways are closed, it would be a beautiful journey around the coast on the rail lines. They are still in place but I’ve been told that they can’t be used for passengers anymore because the gauges used in the tracks are too small – they use larger ones these days which means that modern passenger trains won’t work on them. Still, an opportunity awaits for the Government to re-establish the trains so that they can once again take people along the coast.

I often get asked how I can do the ride from Flowerdale to Burnie. I tell them it doesn’t feel that long when you have things to think about and that the ocean helps me on my way. Sometimes it is too windy and I can’t ride but I always feel envious when I pass cyclists who brave the weather on days that I can’t.

In the end though, I ride because I feel better at the end of the journey. I’ve breathed in the fresh air, had time to get my exercise and arrive at work ready for challenges of the day ahead. So I’ll continue my cycling from Flowerdale to Burnie whilst the summer lasts.

Ulverstone Rodeo

There is nothing stranger than a rodeo, especially when its in Ulverstone in Tasmania – a place of beaches and green landscapes.

Normally, you’d imagine a rodeo in the sand blown dirtscapes of middle America. Yet, here were cowboys and girls, bulls and horses, rodeo clowns and country music, people cheering and clapping and drinks flowing freely and plenty of Akubra hats and buckled belts.

For Daredevils, the ultimate challenge would be riding a 1000 pound buckling bull, pure muscle with a mean attitude. At least, that’s how it looks from the spectator stands. Why would you want to strap yourself to a bull and try to stay seated for 8 seconds whilst it contorts in the most unnatural way to throw you from its back and stomp you to the ground?

In fact, the danger of bull riding was pretty clear when one young cowboy took a buckle too many and fell to the ground, narrowly missing being trampled to death because he was unconcious. The rodeo clowns, who moonlight as bull target practice, vainly tried to distract the bull to get it out of the arena and away from the cowboy. Unfortunately, the bull didn’t like the clowns any better than the unfortunate rider and were lucky to escape being nailed to the fence posts between a pair of horns. Eventually the bull was led out of the arena, the ambulance came and took away the cowboy and as they say in the entertainment industry, the show must go on.

The saddest part of the rodeo were the young bulls, the equivalent of a human child, being lassoed around the neck as they vainly tried to escape a galloping horse with a cowboy on its back. The rodeo prides itself on its treatment of the animals, constantly announcing that they are respected and well cared for. This doesn’t sound all that convincing though when a young animal is chased and hog tied for entertainment.

The rodeo is a reminder of how entertainment has changed over the years, most of us will never see a rodeo in our life. Yet, given the right circumstances, a rodeo could be fun. I have no objection to people wanting to test their skills or testosterone levels but why not invest in a mechanical bull and prove your manhood in a kinder way.

Flying Lessons

In the cockpit with my son - not the crazy instructor

Ever wondered what it is like to get behind the wheel of a small plane? How hard is it to fly, can anyone do it and will it scare the crap out of you? To answer all of these questions I recently went down to Morrabbin airport in Melbourne to have a go at flying. A couple of airlines offered 1 to 2 hour flights to get you started with an instructor to see whether it was for you. I went on a 2 hour flight which took me round the bay and near the centre of Melbourne.

Did I like it? Not as much fun as I thought it would be. Would I do it again? Maybe with another instructor. The one I had put me off as soon as we got in the plane. He told me how bored he was taking people up and down for flying lessons. Imagine, he moaned, going through the same thing each day. When people make a mistake, he said, he felt like hitting them over the head.

Now when you’re in a small cockpit with a bloke who clearly doesn’t like his job, no easy exit and a couple of hundred miles up in the air, you start to feel a little nervous. Particularly as this guy, who’d been flying since he was a teenager, was now in his mid 40′s, complained that he was broke because his love of flying and associated expense drained the wallet, cursed his bad luck in being overlooked to become a pilot on commercial airlines (maybe it was his personality!) and couldn’t stay in a job more than a couple of months, is not my idea of a good instructor.

Added to this was the disconcerting comments he’d make. On flying over the Werribee sewerage farm he exclaimed ‘oh, that’s where our pee pee goes’. Now, if he wanted to speak to me like a 2 year old then he should have given me the wheel of a toy plane, not a Cessna that can crash.

Luckily the 2 hours was over pretty quickly. Despite the instructor, being up in a little plane and controlling the wheel had a definite thrill factor. It felt so much more like flying than being in a commercial jet as the plane was subject to the winds and accompanying bumps. The control panel was a little overwhelming though, trying to understand how to keep the plane level with the horizon line and watching dials spin around without knowing what they did was a little scary.

But it was really the instructor that was offputting more than anything else. My advice is to take a few more flights, with different instructors at different flight schools before you settle on one. You need to feel absolutely sure that you trust and feel comfortable with your instructor before committing to the expense of flying (around $8,000 to $10,000) for a full course and certificate.

As a one off experience though, a 2 hour flight was a good way to experience a light plane and get a glimpse of what flying is like. Also, I’ve now had an aerial view of Werribee and where my pee pee goes!

Camel Riding

A camels view of the world

Burke and Wills are probably remembered best as spectacular failures who tried to navigate their way North to South across the desert with a pack of horses and inadequate supplies. If they’d used camels, the experts say, Burke and Wills would have lived to tell the tale of how they conquered the desert. Instead all they have in memorial is a couple of statues, a pretty bad feature film made in the 1980s and a footnote in history of being a pair of twats.

Camels you see are designed for the desert, horses are not. A camel can get through the shifting sands quicker than a horse can run the Melbourne Cup – figuratively speaking of course. A camel is really the only way to see the desert and appreciate the sheer effort it takes to survive out in a hostile and dangerous environment.

Neil and his camel

Luckily we were in the hands of our guide Neil who runs the Australian Camel Farm, a couple of hours out of Alice Springs. Neil is everything you’d want in a tough outback man, grizzled by the sun,sporting a bushy beard and a no-nonsense approach to midlife women wanting to ride camels. Neil was someone you could trust to keep you alive in the outback. Which is just as well considering he makes a living off taking people on camel safaris.

We went for five days. Some people might find this a little long but I could have gone for a month. I loved the feeling of being unencumbered by modern needs and concerns, no electronic equipment, no music, no restaurants, all replaced by a diet of basic food, lots of water and great conversations. Sleeping out under the stars in a swag, drinking billy tea, eating from cans and dried foods was a great way to speculate how far we’ve changed as a civilisation from our hunter/gatherer ancestors.  

It is amazing to think that the Aborigines could survive in such a hot, desolate world. No rivers had water, the sun was relentless and the wildlife was sparse. Neil took us to rock paintings made by these incredible survivors and told us stories of their culture and the associated cruelty of life as a hunter/gatherer. There is no room for pensioners in this scenario, people were killed when they got to an age where they could no longer keep up with their clan. Often their legs were broken and they were left under a tree to die. Their bodies quickly drying out in the sun awaiting the return of their clan to mourn them and hold ceremonies months later.

Understandably, survival in this landscape required hard decisions. I am no-one to judge, however it gave me some appreciation of how hard it would have been for our ancestors back on the European landscape, suffering through an ice age and trying to feed their families. No wonder we started cultivating the soils, wanting to make life a little easier. These are the things you think about when there are no diversions. How tough life really is away from our cities and lifestyle of abundance.

Plenty of time to reflect about life

As the days went on and we relaxed into the slow pace of life we made up our own stories about the land. Uluru and Pine Gap, white man and Aborigines, camels and motorcars – we made up a white persons story that gave us a relationship to the land. Something we need to develop if we are ever to continue our lifestyles in our sea bound cities. It as a landscape of dreaming because it was calm, relaxed, back to basics.

I take away a feeling about the land that is different from when I arrived. I see that our culture needs to adapt to this dry continent, that our cities are wrong for this environment. We use too much water, we build over fertile land that could produce crops, we farm cattle that has no place in such a sensitive environment where marsupials roam.  We need to find a better balance between our needs and the needs of the land.

Sleeping under the stars

Five days on a camels back allows plenty of time for reflection but also lots of conversation as we gathered round the fire at night sharing our thoughts. Its amazing once the distraction of city life with its phones ringing and constant buzz can so easily be replaced by a peacefulness. Yet it is the contrast that makes it special. A lifetime in the desert and you’d be wanting the city and vice versa. However, we should all take the time to escape into the red centre and find a kind of peacefulness, even if it is only for the short term.

How different the story may have ended for Burke and Wills if instead of trying to chart the desert and discover new riches they had gone on a camel safari. Their thoughts on the value of the inner journey would have made a far better feature film.

For more information about how you can book a camel tour go to Midlifexpress

Bike Riding in the You-Yangs and Mount Beauty

Broken bones and teenage boys are usually what you associate with downhill mountain bike riding. Probably because it is teenage boys that take the most risks on their bikes by jumping off bumps and tree roots and gravel pits – something they refer to as fun. But what about a midlife woman? How do we stack up to riding at breakneck speed down a mountain knowing that all those bumps and grinds are going to play havoc with our bodies over the next few days.

As someone who is a bike rider anyway, the prospect of riding down a mountain sounded rather exhilarating. Though it wasn’t till my teenage son warned me that some of the terrain was pretty tricky did I begin to wonder whether I might not be quite the daredevil I needed to be to get me down the mountain.

At Falls Creek in Victoria there is a great mountain bike track that is used for both professional and novice alike.  Once your up the top of the mountain it really isn’t all that far down, that is of course, depending on how much of a risk you want to take tearing down the mountain like a banshee. Not being as brave as the fourteen year olds I was cycling with I took it at a slow speed. My brakes were on most of the time but that didn’t stop me from almost toppling over the edge of Mt Beauty and discovering first hand how many seconds it would take to fall from the top.

Luckily, I regained my balance in time to stop my destiny with broken bones and back.  It was sand, my son explained later, slippery stuff and much more dangerous than jumping over tree roots and solid clumps of earth. Great to find this stuff out after the event!

The mountain path narrowed halway down where it became the domain of more experienced riders as it was full of tree roots and bumps that required skill to manouvre.  My descent became painfully slow as the gulfs and gullies were a constant reminder that I was on a mountain, going downhill, without a safety net . But oh, what fun. So exhilirating to ride down and build up the courage to let go of the brakes.

At the bottom of the mountain my fingers were aching from the constant pressure of braking and my legs were sore the next day. But it was worth it. So much so that when I got the opportunity to go to the You Yangs I was excited.

The You Yangs are located near Geelong and about an hour out of Melbourne. Far easier to get to than the 3 hour trip to Falls Creek. Also, you don’t have to drive up the mountain to get there. In fact most of the time you peddle around on fairly flat tracks with varying degrees of difficulty. You can of course, climb up higher if you feel like it but there is plenty to do down at the base. The You Yangs are far gentler on the legs and hands, not much braking required. Also, none of that slippery sand and dirt that nearly did me in at Mt Beauty.

For begginners and experienced riders alike I’d recommend the You Yangs as a starting point. For when you feel more adventurous head for Falls Creek and Mt Beauty. There are other mountains too of course but this is enough to keep most middle aged women going for some time.

For more information on bike riding go to Midlifexpress

Indoor Rock Climbing

getting the harness right before the ascent

There is nothing like trying something new that requires a bit of mental and physical effort and that takes you out of your comfort zone. Indoor rock climbing with a group of midlife women who’d never tried climbing anything much in their life let alone a set of fake rocks stuck into a fake wall, was an interesting experience. The Hardrock Centre in Melbourne was to be our first rock climbing experience and we had a lot of laughs and took some rather unflattering pictures of our backsides as we descended from the rock climbing heights.

Probably the hardest thing about indoor rock climbing is trying to understand what the instructors are talking about. With their demonstrations of harnesses and knot tying, not to mention the five steps to saving your buddy’s life if they happen to come unstuck at any stage was enough to intimidate even the boldest midlife daredevil. However, the instructor was patient, explained and repeated the instructions to us as though we had a mental capacity and attention span of a two year old (or at least I have) and then let us loose on the smallest wall in the centre.

charlie climbing

Even the smallest wall though can be pretty intimidating when you’re not used to climbing. Your hands soon get sweaty and learning where to place your feet and clutch onto rocks was becoming trickier the higher you climbed. However, the most stress was really felt by the buddy at the end of the rope who knew they were responsible for the safety of their climbing partner. Suprisingly though, once we’d had a go at climbing the small wall we began to get the hang of it rather quickly.

Liz makes it look easy!

Feeling pretty confident we moved onto another wall. However, out of sight of the instructor we quickly forgot how to tie our ropes and which way the belay was meant to face. We were also out of our depth when we started the climb, pretty soon we were knocking into other climbers and if you think surfers are territorial wait till you stand on a rock that someone else was eyeing off. After I swung into someones partner holding their belay with gritted teeth I realised that I’d need to start on a few more simpler runs.

We moved over to a smaller wall where another climber told us we needed to start on walls with an inward slant. These sorts of walls allowed you to hang in midair and find your next footing rather than having to clutch at small rocks as you scrambled for a foothold. With this in mind we found a suitable wall, back at the beginners end. By now these walls were becoming easy and goes to show how quickly you can get used to something.

Astrid conquers her fears

Even the least confident amoung us was scampering up the wall in no time and we looked around enviously at the rest of the walls trying to spot something suitable. We discovered that the smaller the number on the rocks the easier the wall. So if you start at around 6 you can probably get up to 16 to 20 in one afternoon. After that it starts to get a lot harder.

We didn’t make it past the 16 but we were happy with our efforts. We’d all had a go, we had all conquered at least one wall and it was a great workout. All of us were enthused to do rock climbing again and to spread the word to our midlife friends. For around $30.00 you can have a great day out. Shoes and the climbing gear are included.  So for those would be daredevils, put on some comfortable clothes and get climbing.

To find out about indoor rock climbing centres go to Midlifexpress:

An ungracious descent