Bay of Fires Pictures

April 4, 2010

Hingham, MA, USA

Here are some [long delayed...now that I'm back home, lots of other things are competing with my time] pictures from the Bay of Fires Walk.

First the Cast of Characters beginning with Claire and Joe, our leaders: Then we have Dimity and Gary from Melbourne(Gary here shown with Joe)

Arlene and Julie from Sydney

Richard from Victoria and moi:

We gathered at the Quamby Estate outside Launceston for an equipment check and orientation. The location of our walk is circled:

Loading up for the ride to the trail head:Some of the native inhabitants as seen through the bus's windows:Clair points out Tasmanian Devil tracks:...and points out some Tasmanian Devil tracks. Later, she showed us the way Aborigines carried fire:

We spent the first night in this compound. All the huts had been transported in by helicopter.

Very comfortable digs all in all.

All of us appreciated the amount of work Claire and Joe did. This is cleanup duty after a terrific meal of grilled Tasmanian salmon over pasta.

A good latrine facility, too. Verrry important!

Overall, we had perfect weather. But the morning of the second day we started in a little rain:

The skies cleared around noon just about the time we were arriving at the Bay of Fires beach: After a long and pretty walk along the BOF, we reached Bailey's Rock (Claire called it Turtle Rock...it works for me)

And then we saw the Lodge, our objective for the second and third nights:This is a detail of the Lodge from the picture above.
Sunrise from the deck...and a reflection:

Bay of Fires Walk

March 23, 2010

Bay of Fires Lodge

Tasmania, AU

Tuesday morning, the last day of the Bay of Fires Walk.

I'm sitting in this stunning and beautifully constructed lodge perched on a bluff above a cove on the Tasman Sea wondering for perhaps the 119^th time over the past few weeks how in the world I got here. [The 'Thought Moment' goes sort of like this: 1) mind's a thousand miles away; 2) someone says something; 3) mind comes back; 4) make a reply; 5) in replying notice something…a tree, flower, bird, stone, boat, whatever…and 6) suddenly remember, oh, right! I'm on the other side of the planet, amidst surroundings I never expected to see nor knew existed and with people I've just met, but find myself liking a lot. Go figure!] It's not as if I've stayed at home my whole life, but this is different. Very different.

The Bay of Fires Walk was a thoroughgoing pleasure. Conducted and populated (except moi) by Australians it afforded me three nights and four days with some of this great country's wonderful people. They swallowed me whole. The group included: two single women, friends who seek interesting destinations worldwide; a semi-retired GP and his architect wife who's engaged in a national project to revitalize blighted Australian cities; and a young farmer who represents the 5^th generation of his family working 25000 acres in Victoria. Then there were the guides. Joe is a Tassie native and terrific young man just out of university, who'll next head for India and points west for a year or so; and the beautiful Claire (actually an Englishwoman who has adopted Australia) who has a talent, one of many, for this kind of work. As was the case with the Backroads group, we jelled into a unit easily and quickly.

I met Julie and Arlene, the two women from Sydney, in the lobby of Peppers Seaport Hotel in Launceton Saturday morning. A bus picked us up at 7.20 and we drove about a half hour to the Quamby Estate, the former residence of a prominent Tasmanian family now owned by the company conducting the tour. Richard, the farmer from South Australia was with us, and we met Gary and Dimity, from Melbourne, at the estate itself where they'd lodged the previous night. Joe checked our gear, issued Gore-Tex jackets and backpacks and gave us boxed lunches for our trip to the trail head. Then he gave us what Backroads would call a 'Route Rap.' We would hike about 8KM that afternoon after a 3-4 hour drive to the coast. Our destination for the first overnight was a hut complex for a little quasi-camping. The following day we would hike along the beach to the actual Bay of Fires (named for the ceremonial fires set there by the aborigines). The entire day's hike would be about 14KM. We would break for lunch at a lighthouse on the easternmost point of Tasmania and then head for Bay of Fires Lodge for two nights.

The walking itself was relatively easy. We each carried packs weighing 25-30 pounds, but elevation change on this walk, about 95% of which was on the various beaches, was minimal.

Our first night was in the huts. There are a half dozen framed buildings with wood floors, bunks and sleeping bags, plus a larger dining facility and a quite sophisticated latrine building. All had been helicopter-ed in when the complex was built five or six years ago. Supplies for the season also arrive by helicopter at a cost, Joe said with a smile, of about 9 cents per rotor rotation.

Claire and Joe set about preparing dinner. It was abundantly clear that they both knew their way around a kitchen (surprisingly well equipped) Claire prepared a Thai dressing for pasta, and Joe grilled Tasmanian Salmon steaks that he'd carried in. Dinner was great and even had some good Tassie wine. Australians seem to know more about American politics than most Americans, and I again vowed never to return without brushing up on domestic affairs. We had a lively and interesting dinner table conversation, thankfully not all about Yanks and Mr. Obama's health care legislation.

After breakfast Sunday morning, we set out on the 'main event,' the long walk to the Lodge. We'd had some rain overnight, and we began our trek in weather that was clearly changeable. It began to rain shortly after we started, and for a while it looked like we were going to be in it all day. Thankfully, that didn't happen. We saw breaks in the clouds about 11.30 and by the time we were ready for lunch it had cleared completely.

Saturday, as we started, we'd all seen a lighthouse that Claire and Joe told us was our objective for Sunday's lunch. It had looked then like it was just around the bend, you know? Not a chance. We didn't get there until about 1pm the second day.

We'd just thrown down our gear in the rocks at the base of the lighthouse when I noticed a couple coming onto the beach about a quarter of a mile away…a lonely stretch of dirt road ended there. As I watched, they both shed their clothes and headed for the surf. He was in front and had gotten into the water about the time she looked up the beach and saw me standing there. She moved pretty quickly from that point on! Back to the pile of clothing and into her 'bathers.' I'm afraid we spoiled their day…they didn't stay much longer. Too bad. We certainly didn't care, but it reminded me that it's pretty hard to assure yourself of privacy, even as far away from things as we all thought we were.

We took a quick tour of the lighthouse, had our lunch and then set out again along the Bay of Fires. We arrived at Bay of Fires Lodge a little before 5 and were greeted with afternoon tea and cakes by Beth, another guide who was managing this beautiful and isolated place.

Yesterday four of the six of us spent half the day doing some kayaking on a nearby river. It was a picturesque and welcome change to the shore walks, and introduced me to the pleasures of a kayak. Richard teamed up with Arlene, and I with Julie. We spent a couple of hours on the river, had a picnic lunch and then walked about 3Km back to the Lodge. We had another great dinner and more good conversation. I offered a toast to not only a great country, but to all who had made my experiences here so memorable. Each one of these companions brought something new into my life and I'm a richer man for it.

The Lodge is certainly worth mentioning. It was constructed about 10 years ago and is the only structure for miles. It's very green. All water is rain water captured in a cistern. When you're out, you're out. There is running water and showers, but guests manually pump water from the cistern into an overhead tank for gravity fed water pressure. Toilets are composting units. Organic waste is composted and all other materials are set aside for carrying out and/or recycling. A generator supplies limited power (I didn't notice any solar panels, but that's not to say they don't exist), and cooking is done with propane. There is no heat save that generated by a fireplace in the main room, and I was grateful for the cold weather gear that had been required equipment. Many supplies and materials come in by helicopter, but there is road access to a point a few hundred meters from the building itself.

Rose Valley Memories

March 25, 2010

Potts Point, Sydney, AU



Here are some pictures from my visit to Rose Valley, Victoria. I've got a good internet connection here and am slowly catching up. Bay of Fires will have to wait another day or so.



This Rose Valley looking northward

, and this is from the same point looking south . Stephanie and Mark , Stephanie and Matt Roberts . Matt and Mark. The Kelpies (courtesy of Matt and Lindy). Off to work! . The Brown House . . The Barn from the Brown House
. Mid day heat . Parrots . Cockatoos, two views...same picture
. And a Kookaburra sitting in the old gum tree .

Update 2

I've just added some pictures to 'Fences' and added a little content about wombat holes.

FYI, in case you haven't noticed, if you click on a picture it'll expand to a more viewable size.

Am enjoying my last full day in Sydney and using the morning to get some photo editing and writing done. I hope to have more updates later today.

Update

I'm slowly getting a new post together and getting pictures into the more recent ones. Just posted a few pictures from Rose Valley and the fly-struck flock. Am in Launceton, Tasmania at the moment...finished the Bay of Fires Walk yesterday ...and am about to fly to SYD for two more days before returning home on Friday. I'll work on the blog some more tonight/tomorrow and hope to have some posts completed before I leave for home.

All's good down here. Y'all come.

Wangaratta to Melbourne

March 18, 2010 [Written yesterday]

Trip Day 40

I'm sitting in a nicely appointed coach car heading for Melbourne and Chapter 7, a short overnight and thence on to Chapter 8, the hike in Tasmania that starts Saturday morning. The train was a few minutes late but we're moving at a good clip and won't stop until we're at Southern Cross Station. It's a great view out the windows, but the land has gotten monotonous. Flat cattle and sheep country. The mountains are behind us. Rose Valley spoiled me. It was gorgeous.

We left the farm in Rose Valley about 1 intending to have a long lunch after which Stephanie would drop me at the train station for the 4pm express to MEL. That happened, but not without a hitch. As we were leaving Brown House, she wanted to be sure one of the gates was closed. We drove to check and when we turned around to leave she hit a concealed stone that dislodged and rolled under the front axle. It was just big enough that it lifted the front end just enough off the ground that the front wheel drive Mazda couldn't get purchase. We were stuck.

We'd left Matt earlier after a little scenic tour of the southern end of the property and he had been headed off on his motorcycle with the dogs looking for stock that might be in trouble. It looked to me as though we might be able to jack the car enough to pull or dig the rock out, but we couldn't find the jack. I did mutter to myself a bit that being down a jack in this place would be asking for trouble, but it plainly wasn't' there (not my first mistake this trip). We headed for the main house to look for a crowbar and shovel and got lucky. Matt was back with a lamb that we'd spotted earlier looking poorly. He'd had flats in the Mazda recently and looked at me a bit cross-eyed when I told him it wasn't in the car. We headed back to the car. Sure enough it was under a plastic panel, just where it should be. The panel was just jammed closed and needed a little Australian persuasion. I was a little, ah, chagrined that I'd missed the jack, but it turns out to have been the second piece of good luck…maybe the best of the day. As he was jacking the car he pointed out 'jumping jack' ants all over the ground near where we were working. They're nasty buggers that look very ordinary. They grab skin with their pincers and then sting like a bee. The venom is toxic and can cause severe injuries. Matt himself, stung many times during his outdoor life, has developed an allergic reaction and now needs to be very careful around them. I could just see myself under the car digging the rock out and wondering what those little stings I was feeling were. Tazzy would be out and I would likely be in a clinic someplace.

So Matt got the car lifted. We jammed a timber under the front wheel and he backed the Mazda off the rock. All good. We were off for Wamgaratta and a shortened lunch.

[I'm posting this from my suite…pretty snazzy digs for one night…in the Crown Tower, overlooking the Yarra River in Melbourne. Melbourne looks very interesting. I'm a bit sorry I don't have more time, but I'd not have missed the farm experience for anything! A cab is picking me up in a few minutes for the trip to the airport and Chapter 8, the last one: The Bay of Fires Walk. My foot has healed a good bit and I'm reasonably confident it'll carry me just fine.]

Magpies, Ibises, Kookaburras, Parrots, Cockatoos, Wedge-tailed Eagles, Wombats, Kangaroos and…Kelpies

March 18, 2010

Trip Day – 39

Rose Valley, Victoria, AU

Stephanie's farm is called Rose Valley, and is easily seen on Google Earth (look up Cheshunt, Victoria, AU) stretching from north to south between two ridgelines. There's a bit of natural amphitheater effect at the Brown House. Bird song and other forest noises are magnified. Mornings are filled with the calls of all the native birds…and sheep, of course, when they're grazing close by. And when the Kookaburras are about, their distinctive 'laugh' is laugh.

I've seen live kangaroos, dead wombats (nocturnal creatures that get nailed like deer by cars at night) and all manner of wonderful birds. The most lasting impression of the birds will be the flocks of parrots and cockatoos. I've never seen either outside of a pet store, zoo or someone's home and tend to think of them as solitary semi-exotic birds. Not here. They are everywhere and no one pays them any mind. Cockatoos are so plentiful and noisy that they are a nuisance. I haven't been successful getting a picture of a tree full, but they do travel and feed in groups.

Wombats are herbivores that can be big boys and girls. They live in burrows, either in the woods or open fields and pose threats to stock, people and vehicles. You can imagine what an unsuspecting axle would experience hitting one of these things at speed. I've seen two. Both dead at the side of the road, victims like deer in the US of collisions. Cars don't leave the scene unscathed.

I haven't seen kangaroos when I've had my camera handy. On the way to the farm, we passed a meadow that was literally full of them. I regret I didn't ask Stephanie to stop, but I thought I was likely to see others later. Saw one last night on the way back from dinner, but didn't have my camera. Oh well.

The dogs Matt uses for farm work are Kelpies: smart, happy and all muscle. Matt's two dogs are both aging and have lost some of their edge, but are still wonderfully intuitive about their work. Whistles and short verbal commands are all they need to move sheep where they're wanted. One dog is the house dog. He's Lindy's and the girls' companion and doesn't do a lick of work. A young dog is in training, but at the moment too exuberant to be useful. He'll calm down in a few weeks and Matt has very high hopes for his abilities.

Fences

Rose Valley, Victoria, AU

March 18, 2010

Trip Day 40

This is my last day with Stephanie, Matt, Lindy, Pipper and Charlotte at the farm. Stephanie will drive me to Wangaratta (about an hour) this afternoon for an express train to Melbourne. Won't have much time in MEL, but the extra time spent here has been wonderful. It's more than offset a longer stay in the city.

Yesterday we fenced. There's a lot of fencing on a 3000 acre farm, and it needs attention. Stephanie has bought an additional 30 acres close to the 'Brown House' (her new house, where we stay) both for use as well as for an additional buffer. Matt has begun the process of erecting a new electrified, 'dog' fence (wild dogs are a menace to the flock) along the new boundary. Before it's finished, though, the old fence still needs care.

A eucalyptus tree had fallen recently and taken a section down. Matt met us at the house with his chain saw and we got underway. Clearing the deadfall was simple. We simply cut it up and rolled it down the hill where it will dry and be burned sometime later. Closer study of the trees lining the fence, however, told us that some others needed attention. They or their branches would come down sooner or later and cause more work, so Matt cut them as well. One large tree in particular overhung the fence, and there was no way we were going to fell it without taking the fence out with it. We opted to cut it, down the tree and then repair it.

The fences are simple yet complex, the products of experimentation and modification. They consist of 7 wire strands, two barbed and 5 smooth, each separated by about 6". There may also be an additional electrified strand. [The dog fence, in contrast, also has 7 wires but 4 of them are electrified.] Fence posts are usually wood, similar to our cedar, spaced about 40' apart. Every 5' or 6' apart are 'droppers.' These are narrow hardwood stakes with shallow channels in them at the proper spacing interval. They're not dug into the ground, but attached to the fence strands by pre-formed wires that allow lateral movement (flex) but secure the strand in its channel at its proper spacing from its neighbor.

Stephanie's and my first fencing tasks were to straighten and realign a fence that needed some help. We learned how to do that day before yesterday after treating the fly-struck flock and before we could have our dinner. [It was just Matt's way of assuring we'd a) savor a cocktail a little more and b) have a better appetite for the roast Lindy had in the oven. Worked on both accounts.] We kicked and muscled the droppers (you can see them in this picture) into vertical and horizontal alignment and then applied new attachment wires where needed.

We did some of that yesterday, too, but spent more time helping Matt repair broken strands and address a particularly neglected stretch of fence that the flock had discovered and defeated. Between that and our little logging endeavor we all felt we'd done a good day's work. Dinner was, again, late, but accompanied by the satisfaction of knowing we'd helped this fine young man get a job done that would have taken him much longer alone.

And how do you put a price on the comedy of watching me stumble around trying to make inanimate objects do what and go where they're supposed to?

This is a picture of one of the paddocks. The circle in the middle highlights a wombat hole. I wrote in an earlier post about them being substantial critters and their holes presenting a hazard to horses, vehicles, stock and, of course, humans. The tree to the right of the hole is smallish, but it gives a sense of scale to the hole itself.

Rose Valley, Victoria, AU

Trip Day -37

[The pictures are incomplete. All are from my point and shoot. The cable I need for the SLR downloads has gone missing. There will be more at a late date in a web-based album.]

Stephanie Speakman's Farm . This aerial shot (courtesy of Stephanie and Matt Roberts) looks from north to south. The farm is about 3000 acres, small by Australian standards. They raise sheep for lambs and wool and Angus beef.

This is Stephanie. She met me, per Plan A, at the Melbourne Airport and we headed north about 4 hours to the farm near Cheshunt, Victoria. Her house is lovely. Warm, inviting and comfortable. High ceilings (some pressed tin), hardwood floors, and many other details salvaged from materials in the original building. An open floor plan. We stayed up late and talked about lots of things last night. I slept well.

Not being sure of the agenda today, we went to the main house this morning about 9. Matt and Lindy Roberts live there and Matt runs the farm. Stephanie told me I’d like them, and was she ever right. They are a very attractive young couple with two young daughters. Both girls had left for school (which has 22 students total - and they all get picked up by the same bus…there aren’t a lot of neighbors in this part of the world) so that by the time we got there and Matt had set his plan for the day: ‘drenching’ the sheep.

The flock had been ‘fly struck.’ He’d noticed it yesterday while doing some other chores. Some tell tale dark spots had appeared on several of the ewes’ backs, a certain sign that they’d become infested with fly eggs and maggots. Blowflies are the culprits. They don’t breed during dry spells, which the region has had plenty of during the past few years, but it’s been damp this year. Perfect conditions. Matt looked at me and asked me if being up to my elbows in maggots before lunch had been featured in the tour brochure. Let me at ‘em, said I.

So our day was set. The flock needed to be ‘drenched.’ Drenching simply means administering an oral treatment to ward off future infestations, a simple but time and labor intensive process. But more importantly we needed to separate the fly struck sheep and treat them immediately. We began by inspecting each sheep and separating the ‘dirty’ ones from the flock. The lambs, characterized by their smaller size and wool (never shorn), needed culling as well. They’d been treated when they were weaned a few months ago. The dogs (more about them in another post) drove them into a holding area in the barn and we got started.

Matt did the heavy lifting. We drove 20 or 30 sheep into a narrow chute. Starting at the front of the column, Matt, one by one, administered the treatment and released the ewe to Stephanie and me. If it was ‘dirty’ it went into another holding area; otherwise it was released to the lower paddock. Lambs for now went with their dirty cousins.

Watching Matt work, non-stop under the strong Australian sun was a lesson in itself. Firm but gentle, he avoided head butts and kicks, absorbed body blocks from panicked ewes and methodically worked his way through over 500 sheep one by one. Aside from stopping to reload the reservoir of his injector and getting some water from the tap (and discovering a red-backed spider…think black widow…resting in the tap’s cool shade) we didn’t take a break until the flock had been inspected.

Next came treating those ewes that had been ‘struck.’ They were all herded onto the second floor of the barn, normally used for shearing. Matt gave us both lessons in holding and maneuvering sheep…I need to keep my day job…and he worked on each one as we brought them to him. The infestation was impressive and ugly. The dark areas visible on the surface of the wool, when sheared away reveal massive colonies of blow fly eggs, most of which have hatched. The maggots burrow into the sheep’s skin and left unchecked cause terrible damage and death. Once the affected area was exposed (often much larger an area than was indicated by the visible spot on the sheep’s coat), Matt treated it directly with an insecticide and released the sheep.

We finished the entire flock late afternoon, called it a day and cleaned up. Here I give shearing a go. Again, for a sheep handler I make a pretty good broken down airline pilot...