Louise and I have embarked on a 3-week trip up from Perth to Exmouth in a hire car. It's the first time we have had a long holiday together since about 1999. We were supposed to do the trip in 2020, for my 50th birthday, but you can guess what happened to that plan. Finally we're getting back around to it. I'm going to blog every few days to let folks know what we've been up to. 

Sunday June 14.  The flight and transit section all went fine. Northbridge provided excellent Malaysian food but little else. It was drizzling rain all evening. We retired early. 

Monday June 15. We went to the Art Gallery of WA and did some shopping to dodge the rain, then saw my extended family, the Perth Lynches, which was a rare treat. 

Tuesday June 16 (today). The road trip began in earnest. We surprised ourselves by getting underway at 7am, and got to Yanchep National Park, on the hunt for the Carnaby's Black Cockatoo. We didn't see any there, but had a great walk round the wetlands spotting other birdlife and getting extremely cold. Neither of has have packed sensibly. We were both imagining a Cairns-equivalent level of tropics for the whole trip, and forgot that quite a few places on the drive up might still be a bit chilly.

We got properly underway on the Indian Ocean Drive by about 9.30. The Carnaby's flew over the car several times en route to The Pinnacles National Park, which I have detailed with photographs rather than trying to explain it. Fifteen minutes further north is the town of Cervantes, where there is an epic-level tourist trap called the Lobster Shack, where we were obliged to eat the eponymous shellfish, as well as some prawn bisque for good measure. The place may be called a 'shack' in the same way that the Adelaide Oval may be called a field. Both the Pinnacles and the Lobster Shack were heaving with asian tourists. The Perth-Dwellers won't be here for another few weeks when school holidays begin. 

I took to the wheel and we drove the rest of the way to Geraldton. We went jogging by the beach and saw an Osprey eating its catch on telephone pole, and are mow tucked up at our apartment. Quite a day. 

​Steve.

PS - on the opposite side of Australia from Geraldton is Balina, NSW. It is lush and tropical. Geraldton is windswept and sandy and quite dry much of the year.  

My wife Louise had a working trip to Port Lincoln between Jan 5 and 9, and I decided to join her. The pics are from my new Nikkon Coolpix p1100, which is like a bigger version of my older camera with better focus control, but a wee bit heavier. I had a great time with it. 

Hello, folks. 

Today was the best day of the walk so far, but it did not go without incident. I woke up early to get the best out of the upcoming archaeological wonders, and left the Rose and Crown just after 8, full of beans, and other aspects of the Full English. After several miles, within striking range of Wayland's Smithy (a famous neolithic long barrow), I stuck my hand in my right pocket to discover the hotel keys I had forgotten to return. Oh, bugger. I found a diagonal back down the hill, and spotted a perching raptor en route, but was feeling a bit beleaguered at the thought of having added about 3 miles onto my day through my mistake. Luckily, a chap (who I could swear was one of the cast of Horrible Histories) spotted me in a cafe and gave me a lift back up the hill. So, only 2 miles added. 

The rest of the day was great. I saw the Smithy, and took a few photos, but it's really more about being there, and I was fortunate that there weren't too many tourists present, other than me. After about half an hour I sauntered on, and got myself to the White Horse of Uffington. I was dreading to see the wonderful White Horse in a similar state to the last two chalk figures I had seen, which were looking shabby and unloved in the browning grass. But it was in great nick, green and pristine - perhaps the nearby airbase has been water-bombing it? The hillside was much more green than those nearby, I noticed. I wandered around beaming among a few others enjoying the sunshine, mostly locals getting a good vantage point to watch a nearby airshow, or, families with kids flying kites off the Iron Age hill-fort ramparts. It was great.

Now I had a decision to make - did I go down the wonderfully named Blowingstone Road, too see the Blowingstone, and have a half at the nearby Blowingstone Inn? Apparently there is a stone hidden in someone's front yard with a hole in it, and if you blow on it hard enough, you can make a small noise of some kind. (In the Middle Ages, you made your fun however you could.) The stone and inn sounded tempting (although I am glad I do not have such a stone in my front garden). But, I decided to keep going on the Ridgeway to Letcombe Regis, where a bus would take me down into the market town of Wantage. Another fine raptor was spotted in the trees on the way. Both turned out to be Buzzards. 

Wantage is a cool place; there's lots of Tudor half-timbered buildings with Turkish Barbers operating out of them, heaps of tradies drinking in the pubs, and about 6 op shops, which I visited in hope of replacing some of my thoroughly stinky clothes. I am now all good for socks, and have a new long-sleeve shirt, but fresh underpants await me further down the trail. The op shop people may have thought me a bit weird when I asked about second hand underpants and I had to explain that was normal in Australia. I didn't have time to explain that they are normally donated new, so perhaps that explained the funny looks. 

My place this evening is the Volunteer Inn, which originally housed a volunteer rifles crew, but now houses people who come to visit the Formula One Williams Centre, which is just down the road. Car enthusiasts abound around here. The hotel cheap and 'cheerful', because it's on a main road, and, the main train line to Bristol. My room faces both. Earplugs have been provided. Wish me luck. 

The weather tomorrow may feature ALL the rain the country hasn't had in the last 6 weeks, or, none of it, if the storms don't cross the Chilterns. I'll make my mind up in the morning, but if it really is chucking it down as threatened, I'lll go to Oxford by bus - it turns out to be just up the main road I'm on - and mooch about in my raincoat, buying whisky and underpants. If it's clear, I might bus back to Letcombe and start the trail again. Let's see. 

It's day 4 and my brain and body are demanding rest. I'm in a cafe in Kentish Town, waiting for the energy to do more things later on. I need to buy shorts. 

Yesterday I took the train out to Walthamstowe Wetlands to go birding. I knew from Google that it didn't open until 9.30am but I, stubbornly, got there at 6.30am, thinking to walk along the riverbank for a bit and see a few common species in the early morning. I had the great fortune to run into David, a local bird enthusiast, who saw my camera and asked me what I was doing. I explained my purpose and he said it was OK if I came into the main site with him. He has a special permit to access the site out of hours, to do species surveying as a volunteer for the London Wildlife Trust. I followed him around the reservoirs and marshlands of the River Lee for about 5 and a half hours, during which he got me up to speed on many things, and ensured I saw most of the available species. 

The first two days had felt like catch up on the past. Yesterday felt more like the current version of me. I have taken on the role of tour guide for a Chinese birder on quite a few occasions and I understood exactly why he was excited to show me species he had been seeing for years. I got his email and we might catch up further. Gallery below is only a few of the species I got.

Later, I went out to a cool cafe in Kentish Town and saw some American folk singers on tour. One, Lucy Clearwater, was exceptional. I'm listening to her stuff today. 

The first two days of my time in London were some of the hottest ever recorded. 36 degrees in London mugginess is no joke. The tubes were like saunas. The Londoners were all gadding / flitting about in shorts / sundresses, talking about how great it was, but moaning all the while. I've also been sleep deprived; I never get much sleep the night before a trip, and had almost none of the 27-hour journey, so Monday was a bit of a hot mess. 

On day 1, my friend Anita came down to help me with my sim card situation and give a general welcome to Old Blighty. We took a river cruise from Chelsea to Greenwich and ticked off a lot of Monopoly Board London on the way. I saw the Tower of London Bridge, and the Houses of Big Ben, and a very hot swan. And I saw the Cutty Sark, and it was hot. And we had Chinese food in Soho and it was hot, went to Leicester Square for about five seconds and it was hot. Anita went home and I crashed about 9pm, delirious.

Next morning I took in Kensington Gardens and was reminded of how butt ugly the Palace is, and how they really should just knock it down to make room for more dog-walkers, squirrels, joggers, and people doing Tai Chi, which is really what the park is for. I saw a swan. Maybe the same one. 

Then I relocated, to my longer term place in West Kentish Town. Most of the people near my place are either West Indian or Arabic background, and it has a vibe quite different to Kensington, by which I really mean it's much cheaper and lots more fun. En route I spent a few hours in Camden Town, about a mile south. In the 90s, when I was last there, it was still a cheap, slightly sleazy market area with good deals to be had. Now it's hipsterized hellhole. You can't always go back. 

But sometimes, you can. Yesterday evening I walked up to Hampstead Heath. I was last there in the winter of 1995, when Louise and I got engaged. It's still good. That winter, it was almost abandoned. In high summer, the bathing pools that mark the headwaters of the River Fleet were chockers with desperate Londoners trying to cool down, and people picnicking in the browning grass. The Bronze-Aged tumulus still has no signage, despite being one of the most important archeological sites in London. It's a weird old hummock covered in trees in the middle of a mowed field. I love it. Picture to follow. 

Then I returned to Kentish Town and crashed, again. I think I have successfully ticked off all the nostalgic and basic tourist London I needed to do, in the first few hot and sweaty days. 

It's day 3, lunchtime. I just walked Walthamstowe Wetlands with a friendly bird expert I met by chance, and saw about 25 new species. But that's a story for another post. 

Pics to come when I rig my card reader up later on...

Steve.

I've so far had one failed attempt to publish my Port Adelaide urban folklore book, the Panther of Divett Street, and I am tempted to self-publish it, or possibly reformat the book and try again with a regular publisher. Still scratching my head about that one.

In the meantime, a few mates have had a go at a cover, using AI. My prompt was "An old fashioned policeman holding a baton chasing a panther with a chicken in its mouth." Results are hilariously bad. Thanks to Richard, Chris and Eva for playing along.