Monday, December 28, 2009

ROCK AND ROLL (PART 2)

How was I going to get out of the mess I was in? I looked at my damaged vehicle and all of my belongings that were strewn in the mud. The rain continued to tumble as the light started to fade.

Decisions had to be made.




Now it would have helped if I had my satelite phone charged and ready but it was packed away unused. My first task was to pick up all my bits and pieces that were waterlogged and caked with mud. So I retraced my role path picking up this and that and stowing the items in the shattered car.

That done I stood in the rain and waited for inspiration that wasn't forthcoming. In frustration I got behind the wheel and turned the ignition key......to my suprise the engine burst into life, albeit with a few clanks and clunks. M'mmmm a few possibilities here I thought to myself. I wonder if the car will drive?

I placed the car into gear, revved the engine, released the clutch slowly and gave the car some gas. It lurched forward and stalled. But it was promising the car moved!

I tried again this time engageing four wheel drive and gave the car more gas. The vehicle moved forward and slowly clawed its way through the mud. It was a rough ride but we made it to the roadway. Amazing!

Thoughts and theories rushed through my mind. Could I possibly make it all the way to Ngukurr in this shattered vehicle? It didn't take me long at all to work out the answer....why not give it a go, nothing else was on offer. 

So off I set to drive 60 kilometres in a vehicle with three tyres, a shattered winscreen and a wonky engine.

My biggest problem was visibility, I couldn't see a thing through the windscreen, so I had to poke my head out the drivers side window. Every time I hit a puddle I would get a facefull of mud and slush. But I didn't have to worry as the driving rain soon cleared the mess away until I hit the next puddle. It was slow and taxing work.

Even though I was driving on a dirt (mud) road the front rim made a horrible noise, especially when I had to ford concrete floodways. But I was making progress and that invigorated me. 

Soon after I started I saw a car coming in the opposite direction and as it approached it slowed down and stopped beside me. A middle aged Aboriginal woman was driving the car and when she saw me her face almost went white and her eyes were as large as saucers. She grasped at something around her neck which she later told me was a talisman to ward off evil spirits. 

This lady thought I was one such spirit sent along the road in a battered car to take her off to the unknown. 

On reflection I can not blame her at all for this attitude.

First of all was the battered and muddied car.  And behind the wheel of the car sat a man with ragged, curly hair and a bloodied face that was coated in blood, mud and eggs. Yes, eggs. As I said earlier I had done my shopping in Katherine and for safekeeping I had placed two dozen eggs on the front seat. Of course a rollover isn't at all kind to eggs and they were launched all through the car but most unbeknownest to me had landed all over me. Add to this visage a stupid grin. Yes it was a face from hell and that's exactly what this poor lady thought. I was here to take her to the back and beyond.

Before I could even get out a greeting, she stomped on the gas and got outta there away from the crazy white man.

I was somewhat startled by this turn of events. What was wrong with her?




No matter, I soldiered on through the rain and the mud, once passing another vehicle whose occupant somewhat reluctantly offered help and who appeared delighted when I turned him down. 

It was a truimph to reach every five kilometre signpost, slowly I wound them down. A few times I almost ran off the road through a lack of visibility or potholes in the road. The hairiest part of the trip was getting the car through a swollen river. A few times I thought I may have pushed my luck too far but somehow I got across to the other side. 

Darkness was falling and I was around eight kilometres from Ngukurr when I was stopped in my tracks by an oncoming police patrol vehicle. The policeman got out of his car had one look at my vehicle and another at me and told me that this was far enough. I could go no more. I pleaded with him to let me continue but he said it was too dangerous, perhaps not so much for me but for other vehicles. He told me that one of the cars that I had passed had reported my plight to him.

So that was the end of my epic journey. The policeman's wife was in the car with him and she stayed with my battered vehicle as the policeman drove me to the Ngukurr clinic to have a checkover. On the way he informed me that I was the third vehicle to rollover in that same spot in the last week. Comforting news. 

I got a few stitches in my ear and whilst at the clinic I had the first opportunity to look at myself in a mirror and what looked back at me gave me a fright. I understood now why the woman took off at such speed.

The policceman and his wife transferred all of my belongings from my car to the police van and ferried it to my accommodation. This was a really nice thing to do. 

As for my car it stayed on the side of the road for several days before it was towed into Ngukurr. Whilst it was left unattended no one touched the car. I am sure if this occurred in a city or town the car would have been stripped of everything of value. The car spent the rest of the wet season in Ngukurr and ended up being sold by the insurance company to a local for a pittance. 

akmacca08@live.com.au

Sunday, December 27, 2009

WOLVES

By chance we stumbled upon the Northern Lights Wildlife, Wolf Centre which is close to the town of Golden in BC. The centre is located a little way off the highway down some quiet country roads. The Centre itself is unpretentious and blends in with the surrounding countryside.

We arrived late on a cold winters afternoon and paid the $10 admission fee. We were then shown to the large enclosures that house the wolves. Each enclosure houses two wolves which are regularly rotated through the Wolf Centre. The Centre houses six wolves all who have been born and raised in captivity.





A husband and wife team run the Wolf Centre and in the 10 years or so they have been involved in the Centre they have never been away for more than four days at a time.

As with many captive animals the wolves don't do a real lot, actually they did nothing at all whilst we were there. It is enough I think to just able to just get a look at these animals up close. The male was huge and weighed in at 135lbs.

One of the owners gave us a very informative talk about the wolves, their habitat, mannerisms and way of life. They stated that wolves get a bad rap and there has been only one proven human fatality to a wolf in the wild. Wolves aren't protected in Canada and are regularly killed by hunters and farmers. 




We were also told that wolves have the most highly developed family structure next to humans. An alpha male and female rule the pack and the weak within the pack are looked after and cared for by the strong. 

Another interesting inhabitant of the Wolf Centre were the Karelian  Bear Dogs who originated in Russia and Finland to hunt bears. In North America, these bear dogs are part of bear management programs aimed at rehabilitating "problem" bears. Karelian Bear Dogs can be used to teach the bears, as well as other species such as cougars and elk, to respect and avoid human "territories".

The Wolf Centre isn't large, nor is it a high-technology facility, but it achieves what it sets out to do and that is to educate people about wolves.

akmacca08@live.com.au

Saturday, December 26, 2009

BANFF

Christmas has been and gone for another year, though the stores aren't finished with us all yet as they wind up for their new year sales.

I spent a lovely Christmas in Banff, Alberta. Banff is one of the great  national parks of Canada. High snow covered mountains compliment, deep valley's filled with snow that looks like icing sugar. Forrests of pine trees cling to the mountainsides, weighed down by snow. How they stand the weight I don't know. Some of the rivers and streams are sheets of ice whilst others have been reduced to just a trickle by the cold.




It is cold, around -20c, but the air is fresh and the sun casts an aura over the high mountains. The summer crowds of shorts and t-shirts are long gone replaced by heavy clothing and ski's. It is cold walking down the streets of central Banff. Christmas decorations abound and storekeepers look hopefully at anyone that enters their store.

Compared to the rest of the year Christmas is a quiet time at Banff.

I stayed at a very nice hotel that came with a fireplace that we put to constant use. The cold outside makes the room more desirable, especially when we have a view of a beautiful moutain capped with blinding white snow. We walk to dinner. It is now -25c and I forget my hat, I can't feel my ears. Of course I only realise when we get to the restaurant that I have a hood on my coat. Stupid man!

I did something this year that I have never done before and that is I went to a Christmas Eve church service. I did feel a little hypocritical but what the heck, it's Xmas and a time of goodwill. The scary thing was that I remembered many of the carol's as well as the Lord's Prayer. Something that I learnt by rote over 40 years ago. Some things we never forget!

Christmas day was a quiet affair with an exchange of gifts and a nice Christmas breakfast follwed by a day of just chilling. We had dinner in the hotel and a course was a Canadian Xmas treat called turducken, which is chicken stuffed into a duck which is stuffed into a turkey. Sounds rather distgusting and a little like animal cruelty but it sure tastes good. Who ever dreams up such dishes?




That was Christmas spent far from family and friends and bbq's on the beach. 

As I drove out of Banff this morning I reflected upon the last time I was there as a teenage soldier who came to the town to drink and carouse. All of my friends and I bought Daniel Bonne coonskin caps to wear around town. We created havoc wherever we went but the Canadian's were nice enough to put up with our silly Australian antics.

You know I could not remember one site from that visit all those years ago, nothing looked familiar which is just another example of what alcohol does to the memory.

I am now back in Okanagan Falls after a beautiful drive through the majestic Rocky Mountains. I am over mountains for now as I have had my fill over the past few days. I am spoilt I know.

A few days here then off to Vancouver.

akmacca08@live.com.au

Friday, December 25, 2009

MERRY CHRISTMAS

A very merry christmas and a fruitful and happy new year to all my family, friends and anyone else unfortunate enough to stumble upon this blog.

I am currently in Banff, Alberta, Canada enjoying the beautiful scenery and cold weather which currently sits at -22c. So a white Christmas for me.

Take care, have a great day and a better 2010!



akmacca08@live.com.au

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

ROCK AND ROLL

Around this time last year I was living and working in the remote Aboriginal community of Ngukurr, which is located in East Arnhem Land in the northern part of Australia. It is a wild and beautiful place that is isolated for around five months of the year due to the heavy rains of the wet season.

The road that leads into Ngukurr is the same road that leads out. To get to Ngukurr is somewhat of a task. Usually you would approach Ngukurr from the Northern Territory capital of Darwin and head south 400 kilometres to the town of Katherine. From Katherine you travel down the Stuart Highway for a 110 kilometres or so until you reach the Ngukurr turnoff.

At the turnoff you have a 190 kilometre single lane road all the way to Ngukurr. The last 60 or so consists of rich, red earth, filled with potholes, corregations and creeks. Beside worrying about the road conditions you have to be on the lookout for the abundant wildlife that appear hell-bent on jumping, slithering, flying or in the case of water buffalo's standing in front of your vehicle.

My personal record for wildlife hits on this trip is three kangaroos and a flock of gallah's.Not nice at all! In this part of the world bullbars aren't for decoration, they are a necessity.

I usually did this trip at least every two weeks, either to Katherine or all the way to Darwin. It was a hard drive, hot, dusty and tiring but a privilige all the same.

But I digress.

I was returning from Katherine after picking up personal effects that were stored there. I had also done my grocery shopping for the next fortnight so the car was laden with all manner of things. The wet season had just started though the sun shone as I dodged various critters along the tarred road.

Music was blaring from the stereo as I approached the section of road where tarred road gives way to dirt. Just a 100 metres or so before I hit the dirt the heaven's opened up and heavy pellets of rain cascaded from the sky. Visibility went to almost zero.

I hit the dirt at around 85kph, with no visibility I wanted to slam on the brakes to slow down but I knew if I did the car would start to buck and slide. I had no idea where the road was it was basically hold onto the steering wheel and hope. 

Well, hope doesn't always suffice as the surface of the road became like an ice rink and the rear of the car started to slide. I tried to correct the slide but this only encouraged the rear of the car to tailspin. Soon I was going done the road sideways just waiting for gravity to take over.

And it did.

All the while this was happening I couldn't do anything, it was out of my control. I knew the car was going roll over, it was just a matter of when. I wasn't scared, the thought that was going through my head was, "I am going to be in deep shit now." The my Government vehicle was almost new, it had less than 3000 k's on the clock.

It all happened in slow motion as the vehicle had arrived at a point where it couldn't sustain traction and balance and it just rolled over. Once, twice and then a third time.

Slow motion it may have been but it also felt as though it was over in a milli-second. The thunderous roar of metal tearing and things breaking was replaced by the sound of rain and heavy breathing.

I felt okay a bit shaken but nothing too terrible. I was alive so it seemed. Wait. There was blood. Now where was that coming from? I checked myself over......it was coming from a cut at the top of my ear. Nothing too dramatic at all, just lots of blood.

Luckily the car had come to rest on its wheels some 25 metres off the road. I looked through the shattered windscreen that barely hung in place. Rain pelted me and helped me regain my senses.  All around me lay chaos.

I undid my seatbelt and had to put my shoulder against the drivers side door to open it. The door clunked open with a groan. I climed from the car to survey the damage. The first thing I noticed was the trail of personal belongings that lay strewn about the place. A sodden pillow over there, a shoe there. Someting shinny poked from the mud, I bent for a closer look. It was my iPod.

I turned to survey the damage to the car. One tyre was blown whilst the other three looked okay. There were dents and scrapes all over the front of the car though the main damage was at the rear of the car where the roof had been badly dented and most of the windows were blown out. The words 'write off' sprung to mind.




So here I was, wet through, bleeding with belongings strewn everywhere with a vehicle that looked like its wheels would never turn again. I was 60 or so kilometres from Ngukurr on a road that on some days may only greet a handful of cars. It was late, pouring with rain and would be dark soon. Shit!!!

(to be continued)
akmacca08@live.com.au


Sunday, December 20, 2009

SILVER STAR

We spent the night in the town of Vernon with friends a highlight of which was soaking in an outdoor hot tub in the snow and interesting experience indeed.

Mid-morning Sunday saw us making a short 22 kilometre trip to the Silver Star Resort, which lies in the hills on the fringe of Vernon. On the way there snow continued to fall though it wasn't that cold at 0c. I had never been to a ski resort before so I wasn't sure what to expect. 

My first impression was how white and pristine everything was. The pine trees that cover most of the mountain were laden with snow which hung to the branches like dollops of whipped cream. Every now and again a branch could take no more and a tiny explosion of white fluff would ripple through the tree and onto the ground.

There was activity everywhere, people were coming and going, usually with ski's or a snowboard tucked under their arm. All of them were dressed for the cold outdoors with outfits and equipment that no doubt cost an awful lot of money, something that made me appreciate the sport of sunbathing on the beach where the only cost is usually factor 30+ suntan lotion.

Ski lifts made their way up the mountainside unconcerned whether they were occupied or not, parents pulled children along on ski's as groups of warmly wapped people stopped and regaled each other with their exploits on the slopes. A dog on a leash sniffed here a snow plough chugged past there. There was a lot going on. 

I felt somewhat as an imposter as I wasn't there to ski, I didn't have all the right gear and my two bug knee's won't permit such foolishness.  As a compromise I decided to try my hand at snow tubing. Sixteen bucks for two hours seems a far price to pay for some fun.

It is a simple sport. You select a tyre tube that has had a cover placed over it and proceed to the hook up point, you sit on your tube and a cable that's attached to the tube is hooked to a pulley system and you are serenely transported up the icy slope. Once at the top you pull your tube to the edge of one of three runs and prepare for lift off.

You are asked by one of the attendants whether you want to join your tube with that of your partner. You look into your partners eye's to determine if she is worthy and can you trust her? You make a decision that she can be trusted for now so you sit on your tube link legs and are asked by the attendant whether you want to be pushed or not and if so do you want a twist?

Never let it be said that I don't live on the edge, a twist it was. So with a push, shove and twist we are launched down the slope like an exocet missile.

What was it like? Well it was fun, no doubt about it but I suspected that the Silver Star tubing slopes weren't the most frightening in Canada. Actually it was a little sedate. I am told that there are some real doozies that are akin to riding a bucking bronc and I will have to seek those elsewhere at another time.

Nevertheless I really enjoyed it and I think I completed 7-8 runs.

Now I must tell you the thing that really stands out here at Silver Star is the number of young Aussie's who work here. Wherever I turned I bumped into an Australian or heard the Aussie twang. The three receptionists at the hotel were all Australian. The women who sold me the tube tickets were Australian as were every tube attendant bar one. I asked many of them how they liked it and each and every oe of them replied with a smile that they were having a real blast. What a great experience for a young person from the other side of the world to come and work in the Canadian ski fields. All I have to do now is to try and convince my kids to give it a go!

My first ski resort experience has been a good and positive one and somehow I don't think it will be my last such visit as there is a certain person with whom I have a few snowball scores to settle!

akmacca08@live.com.au

Saturday, December 19, 2009

THE HAIR DRYER STORY

As I stated in my last blog some of my postings are going to be blasts from the past which detail adventures, yarns and tales that have befallen me on my travels.

This tale occurred when I was a tour guide in China and had flown into Hong Kong in preparation of taking a tour group from Hong Kong to Beijing.

I had just flown into Hong Kong from Phuket, Thailand and proceeded to the baggage carousel to pick up my back pack. For once my pack was one of the first off the aircraft but my joy was a little short lived as the back of my pack was soaking wet. The backpack must have been lying directly against the floor of the aircraft and the condensation had wet the pack.


I had no choice so I shouldered the pack and caught the bus to my Hong Kong hotel. Of course as soon as I placed the pack upon my back my shirt and shorts became wet.



After checking in I had to run some urgent errands in town so I had to go straight out again. If you have lived out of a backpack you will know how valuable clean clothes are and how you put off until the last possible moment changing them. I was now faced with this same dilemma.



I was then overtaken with inspiration as I had noticed that there was a hairdryer on the bedside table. Perfect, I could use this to dry my shorts.



 So I took off my shorts and turned the hairdryer onto them. I was immediately impressed by the results, the shorts started to dry rapidly.



Now for various reasons I was not wearing any underwear, but this was of no concern, I was alone in the room on the 22 floor and no one could see into the room.



All of a sudden I had this strange feeling that we all sometimes get that someone was watching me. I turned around towards the door and there was a Chinese man standing there with a horrified look on his face. He stared at me a moment more and bolted out the door.



I don’t know who was more surprised him or I. I had not heard him come in because of the noise of the hairdryer. Then I realised what he must have seen. Here was this white guy standing there with just a t-shirt on and a hairdryer in his hand and from the angle he stood he would not have seen the pants only that that I had a hairdryer pointed
towards my groin area and a content look upon my face.

No doubt he thought that he had burst upon a guy with a severe hairdryer fetish.


Soon the phone rang. It was reception calling to tell me that a maintenance man had knocked upon my door and hearing no reply entered the room with a pass key. The receptionist said nothing about the incident, but asked if I could let them know when I was leaving the hotel so the maintenance man could enter the room without bothering me. There was an emphasis on the word bothering.



For the rest of my stay I am sure that the hotel staff scurried away when I approached. Worse still I had this strange feeling that they were also pointing me out to others and laughing behind my back.



I wonder why?

akmacca08@live.com.au





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