The Boys Are Back

The movie opens with a madcap scene on Sellicks Beach, a scene we visited a year before seeing the movie

Since the journey that launched “Crossroads” ended, I’ve let the blog sit, like a fallow field. But yesterday a seed was planted. I’m compelled to water it a bit and let it sprout.

The seed was a sweet, touching film, The Boys Are Back. Some talented people are behind it, including the producer of Billy Elliot, the director of Shine, and Australian heart throb Clive Owen.

Robin and I would have enjoyed the film no matter where it was shot. The people in it are ordinary and flawed and ultimately likable.

What gave it more stars in our estimation was the South Australia setting. Sweeping expanses of brown-grass hills, rose-lined vineyards, white-sand beaches, eucalyptus-dotted landscapes, even the screeching of gulahs and the flowing warble of the magpie—they all made us homesick for Adelaide and the Fleurieu Peninsula.

After the movie, we Skyped David, Robin’s twin, who lives in Marion, a southern suburb of Adelaide. What we really wanted to do was hop a plane and head for Australia.

[If anyone else is lonesome for the song of the Australian magpie, click on the sample of "A Madrigal of Magpies" on the Listening Earth Blog.]

Great Ocean Road Trip, Day 1, April 2, 2009 – Adelaide to Mount Gambier

Leaving Adelaide, where we were warmly received by so many people, would have been even harder had we not been looking forward to the journey with David and Jeannette. We fed, loved, and played with Charles the poodle one last time, locked the door, and climbed in the car. I had a lump in my throat as we drove past familiar sights, not knowing when we would see them again.

Brown fields stretch endlessly on the outskirts of Tailem Bend, victim of the drought that has lasted for years

In Tailem Bend we stopped for breakfast at a petrol station where D&J knew we could find tasty raisin toast. Fields that in good times are lush with growth are now an endless plain of dry, brown fields. The photo shows the story for the locals, who know how to interpret it. What looks like plenty of water for irrigation is, in fact, a drought-stricken river whose level has sunk too low for the out-take pipes to bring it to thirsty farmland.

The long, narrow lagoon of the Coorong runs parallel to coastal dunes for 140 km

On the long stretch between Talem Bend and Kingston, we stopped for a glimpse of the long stretch of water and dunes known as the Coorong. Mandy Perry had given us a copy of Colin Thiele’s Storm Boy when she and husband Brenton visited us in Port Elliot. When we had lunch with them in Willunga in March, she gave us a DVD of the film made from the story.

Both are Australian classics. Children still grow up hearing the 1970s story of a young boy and his hermit father who live on a sand-swept Coorong beach. They still weep when the pelican he befriends… No, I won’t give it away because if you haven’t read the book or seen the film, you’ll want to find the poignant story. As we stood looking out at sand and water, knowing the sea was just over the hump of the dunes on the other side, I thought of the boy, of the Aboriginal man who befriended him, of the difficult choices he and his father had to make.

Robin is a tiny figure by the foremost, right leg of Kingston's giant lobster in South Australia

In Kingston we stopped at a park for a tailgate picnic. Of course, we also had to stop to take photographs of the giant lobster that gives the town its distinct identity.

Kingston isn’t the only town with “the biggest” something or other as its claim to fame. It’s an odd compulsion, but it does attract visitors, even if they’re only passing through and stop to snap a picture. I once lived in a town whose icon was The Biggest Hockey Stick in the World. (That’s in Duncan on Vancouver Island in British Columbia, for those of you who have somehow missed this outstanding bit of trivia.)

Some of the best stories come from the exploits of people who cling tenaciously to an outrageous idea. One of those was the creator of the Woakwine Cutting, a slight detour on our route from Kingston to Mt. Gambier.

The deep trench known as the Woakwine Cutting

Murray McCourt owned a peat swamp he figured would make good farmland if he could drain it. He and Dick McIntyre, who worked for him, set to work in 1957. Using a D7 Caterpillar Crawler Tractor, a seven-ton Drawn Ripper, an eleven-yard LeTourneau Scraper, and a Single Furrow Swamp Plough, and plenty of explosives, they spent the next three years cutting a kilometer-long trench through stone and earth. At its deepest, the trench is 28.34 metres. The two men removed 276,000 cubic metres of material and turned “wasteland” into farmland.

It’s a curious story of dogged determination. There’s no free environmental lunch, of course. Draining a 420-hectare swamp boosted one man’s fortunes but didn’t do much for his neighbours, the water table, or the downstream recipients of his agricultural runoff.

Robin, Jeannette, and David Jarman on the walkway leading down into the Umpherston Sinkhole in Mt. Gambier

Mount Gambier was our destination for the day. We spent some time walking down into the Umpherston Sinkhole. Millions of years ago, a shallow sea covered the area. When it receded, the remains of marine life formed limestone, which was gradually pushed up out of the sea. Over time, groundwater found its way through faults in the rock and formed a cavern. Eventually the roof collapsed. That’s a short version of what took eons, but now it is a lush underground park that stays cool even on the hottest days. With a stage at one end, and grassy tiers rising to the edges of the sinkhole, it is a favourite place for summer performances and gatherings.

Mt. Gambier is built on old volcanic land so we drove up into the hills that were once the slopes of active volcanoes and visited two lakes that have formed in old craters. Visitors to Oregon’s Crater Lake will have a sense of what these smaller versions look like. We stopped for a walk at Valley Lake. It’s a great spot for family picnics and water skiing, though North American water skiers might be surprised at how much pleasure can be gained turning small circles on a small lake.

Kangaroos by Valley Lake in Mt. Gambier watching me edge toward them

For me, of course, the best sight was a couple of kangaroos, a female and her joey. They stared at me as I slowly walked toward them. When I violated their comfort level, they took off with the fluid springing motion that’s something of a combination of a bouncing pogo stick and the grace of a bird.

We also stopped to look at Blue Lake, the water supply for Mount Gambier. For a few days in November, it turns a vivid blue. From then through March it gradually fades, until it takes on the dull grey it carries until the next November.

Blue Lake is even bluer for a few days every November

Our last stop of the day was Pine Country Caravan Park. We stayed in one of the two-bedroom units. With its small kitchen/living space, it was a simple, clean, quite adequate home for the night.

Marion (Adelaide) Historic Village

Our stay in South Australia was really in Marion, a suburb on the south side of Adelaide. David Jarman has so internalized its history that a neighbourhood walk is peppered with stories of the village whose colonial history dates back to 1838.

Early settlers were primarily English. Soon after the company of Colonel William Light, Boyle Travers Finiss (first Premier of South Australia), and Henry Nixon surveyed the region, they began to snap up allotments at a cost of six pounds each.

With its Mediterranean-like climate, the region soon flourished with market gardens and orchards. A brickworks supplied building materials. Settlers with all the skills needed for establishing a new community soon turned South Australia into a thriving colony.

As Adelaide grew and modern suburbs threatened to destroy Marion’s heritage, a group of volunteers formed the Marion Historic Village Project in cooperation with the City of Marion. Since 2006 they have identified 23 significant sites, including those in the photos.

Many Marion babies came into the world in the Birthing Cottage in this picture.

David is one of the prime movers of the group. He is often called on to lead walking tours of the historical sites. For him, every street tells a story, which he is only too happy to share.

St. Ann's Catholic Church was built in 1859 and used as a school after 1865. Two bells were commissioned - one for this church, the other for the town of Gawler. The order was mixed up, but the bell was blessed and something had to be done with it. It was too large for the church so was hung in this gum tree, where it hangs to this day.

Little Marion peers into a well here. The spider web is still intact, which means no child has fallen in.

The Cobb and Co. coach used to stop at the Marion Inn on its way south

Storytelling in Adelaide

Cathryn sharing a tale at the Adelaide Storytelling Guild gathering in March 2009.

There are no doubt wonderful storytellers in Melbourne, but my e-mails to those I found online went unanswered. So I was delighted when one of the Adelaide Storytelling Guild members offered a warm welcome even before we arrived here.

Isabel Piercy is a member of David Jarman’s Probus Club. He has asked her to do some storytelling in historic dress as part of the Marion Historic Village project. When she learned David’s twin was coming to Adelaide with his storytelling partner, she wanted to meet me.

Gaynor brought along the hats she'd made for all her family members, each a reflection of something special about that person. I suspect she didn't think she was telling stories, but she was.

So shortly after we arrived, I gave Isabel a call. She planned a spontaneous gathering and invited the four of us (Robin & David, Jeannette & me) to be special guests. Storytelling Guild members came bearing delicious food. We ate and talked and then told stories. I jumped at the chance to tell “Letters from Frank”. I’ve been telling that story since I met the characters who inspired it. That was back in my Seattle days. Every time I tell the story it’s like having a visit with loved friends.

In March the Guild gathered again, at the home of Josephine and Mick. They are a delightful couple whose suburban property boasts fruit trees, grape vines, vegetables and herbs, and a flock of happy chooks (aka chickens).

Robin and I joined the group for more good food, more good conversations, and more good stories. I haven’t been in a community with a storytelling guild since leaving Seattle in 1990. To be with people who love to tell and listen to stories felt like coming home.

It was Graeme's 50th birthday, and the Storytelling Guild helped him celebrate.

I think that’s true of anything for which we have a passion. Wherever we are in the world, when we meet others who share our deep interest, we feel a sense of homecoming.

So as we prepare to leave Adelaide, I will take with me the memory of time spent in Adelaide and Perth, where stories gave me a common thread with people we’d just met.

Going to the movies in Adelaide

Adelaide movie buffs have alternatives to the multiplexes where most of us sit in one of ten or more small boxes, watching films that are hugely expensive to make but often mediocre. The two below are not the only off-beat options, just those we’ve been lucky enough to find.

Ingle Theatre

Nigel Dear lost his wife fifteen years ago. After a career as a movie projectionist, he found himself with a large collection of old films and no one to share them. So he built a theatre in his own home.

The suburban house looks like any other from the street. Open the door and enter an old-time movie house, complete with lobby, film posters, ticket counter, and seats for waiting.

Push back the red plush curtain separating the lobby from the theatre, and rows of seats rise at an angle that gives every audience member clear view of the screen. To one side of the screen is an organ, which occasionally someone plays. To the other side is a piano. On the day we went with David’s Probus Club, Robin and David gravitated to the piano and played “Tea for Two” while we waited for the film to start.

The pattern is always the same, though the specific films vary. On this day we watched a 1952 news reel and then a 1950s Hanna-Barbera cartoon, Tom and Jerry in the Hollywood Bowl. After a modern travel film we had a break for tea, coffee, biscuits (aka cookies) and conversation.

Then came the feature film, In Old Kentucky. The 1935 story of greedy land baron versus imperiled but gutsy young woman starred Will Rogers and Dorothy Wilson. Nigel told us that Rogers was known for improvising lines during filming and that this young woman was one of the few who could throw something equally off-the-cuff right back at him. Some scenes were grating for 2009 sensibilities, but Rogers is still impressive as a low-key, folksy actor, and watching the legendary Bill “Bojangles” Robinson was a treat.

If you’re traveling to Adelaide and belong to some group with a chapter here, try to persuade them to rent Ingle Theatre. Ten dollars a head buys several hours of nostalgia and good fun.

Windsor Theatre

Built in 1925, the Windsor Theatre became a two-story moviehouse in 1934.

We stumbled onto the Windsor Theatre when we checked out an open house on Commercial Street. I’d been wanting to see Clint Eastwood’s latest, Gran Torino. When I saw it was showing a half hour after we toured the house, I proposed an afternoon at the movies.

Robin was willing so we had a bite to eat at The Edge, on nearby Jetty Road, and arrived in time to find our way to a seat in the darkened theatre. Within five minutes I was nudging Robin. “This is the wrong movie,” I said. An explosion, scattered wreckage of an airliner spread across a beach, dazed survivors? None of that would fit into Gran T0rino’s plot.

The movie, The Passengers, was mildly interesting. True to the fabled politeness of Canadians, we stayed in our seats and kept hoping in vain the plot would improve with time. It didn’t.

When it ended, we wandered out to the lobby, where a long line of people was queuing for tea and treats. Curiously, they were hanging around instead of leaving. Then it hit me. This was a double feature, with Passengers as the warm-up and Gran Torino as the main attraction.

After chatting with some of the folks hanging around for the “real” movie and a brief conversation with Peter, the ex-movie projectionist turned theatre owner, we decided to take full advantage of the $8 we’d paid. We were glad we did. Eastwood’s latest movie shows the old warhorse struggling with prejudice against the Hmong people who have moved into his neighbourhood.

Though I’ve never been a fan of the silent, macho male Eastwood generally plays, I found this performance nuanced enough, the premise engrossing enough, to keep me engaged.

So there it is. Two options for movie buffs who find themselves in Adelaide.

It happens.

Cleland Wildlife Park

March 5, 2009 – Cleland Wildlife Park

It’s Friday as I write, at least on this side of the world. I’m behind on the blog, but yesterday’s visit to Cleland Wildlife Park was such a highlight that I am eager to share some photos with those of you who do me the great honour of reading these travel notes.

Cleland Wildlife Park is twenty minutes east of Adelaide, in the hills that flank Mount Lofty. Developed in the 1960s, the park is dedicated to the preservation of native flora and fauna. Many of the animals in it are orphans hand raised by the staff. Accustomed to humans, they are ready to assume the best – i.e., food – from the travelers who wander through their large enclosures.

Tasmanian Devil female

Our visit began with the Tasmanian Devils, whose feeding time coincided with our arrival. The winsome face in this photo is of a female who, along with her sister, was donated to the park when she passed breeding age. So many of these and other small native mammals have succumbed to human impact and imported foxes that only zoo and refuge breeding programs are keeping them from extinction.

From the Devils we wandered through one of the kangaroo enclosures. In the broad expanse of grassland, the roos could easily avoid their human visitors. What brings some of them up to nose around hopefully are the little bags of pellets sold at the entrance. Stand still or hold out your hand, and it won’t be long before a roo comes sniffing around or pats you with its paws. Fill your palm with pellets, and you’ll have a soft muzzle gently emptying it.

Until the visit to Cleland, I didn’t know how to identify a kangaroo with a joey in her pouch from a distance. Now I’ll recognize the telltale sag and size of the pouch. We saw only one joey poking its head out for a peek at the outside world, but we saw other kangaroos with saggy pouches. The future population is assured, though it was never in doubt in this roo-laden land.

Joey peeking out of mum's pouch

Small pack of dingos thriving at Cleland Wildlife Park

Dingos are less likely to be around in future, at least in the wild. Domestic dogs have interbred with this Australian wild dog. The keeper told us within ten years pure dingos will only be found in captivity, where breeding programs keep them from complete extinction.

Typical of canine packs, the four at Cleland have a hierarchy, with one of the young females at the bottom. The day we visited, the youngster was limping, likely having come out on the bottom of a squabble over food. Her stronger brother didn’t really want the bone the keeper gave the young female, but he didn’t want her to have it either. She would drag it away, take a few gnaws, and then watch him snatch it away and abandon it elsewhere.

Pelican in Cleland's bird sanctuary

After we left the dingos, we stopped at the bird sanctuary to watch ibis, pelicans, pied cormorants, Pacific Black ducks, Cape Barren and magpie geese, and white herons. These birds, too, are comfortable with humans, though it’s mostly the geese and ducks who nudge humans for pellet treats.

Ibis patiently watching for dinner

Shy yellow-footed rock wallabies eye us warily

We were lucky to see the yellow-footed rock wallabies. These shy marsupials don’t always let tourists see them. The ones in the photo put up with our stares and photo snapping for a short while, then bounded off.

I’m not sure why emus are not among my favourite birds. Perhaps I’m intimidated by the stories told of emus’ aggressive behaviour. Or perhaps it’s just the oddity of a large, flightless bird. At any rate, we spent little time among the half dozen at Cleland, turning our attention back to the free-roaming kangaroos, whose quiet friendliness enchanted me.

Flightless emus

Tawny Frogmouth

The tawny frogmouth was one of the last animals we saw before reluctantly leaving the park. It was on the floor of the enclosure as we entered to see the mallee birds but immediately flew up to the tree you see in the photograph. Shaped like a small owl, the frogmouth is from the nightjar family and is common throughout Australia.

While our koala visit fell in the middle of our tour, these delightful marsupials were what I most wanted to see. So I have saved the best for last.

Koala just awakening

Koalas sleep nineteen hours and feed the other five. They never drink except when drought and intense heat lower the water content of the eucalyptus leaves that comprise their entire diet. This little guy had just awakened when we approached the enclosure. Others were sleeping in the crook of trees. I feel instantly in love with their fuzzy ears, their flat noses, their squat bodies, their thick fur.

Cathryn and Robin with Osmo

I snapped a couple dozen photos and then joined Robin in the line to meet one of them. The keepers scoop up one of the tame beasts and bring them to be fondled by visitors. Osmo was the little guy into whose fur we sank our fingers. He munched contentedly, completing ignoring us, as we snapped photos and stroked his back. How could anyone resist a face like his?

Osmo eating eucalyptus while we run our fingers through his fur

So there it is…a day at Cleland Wildlife Park. The native flora and fauna of Australia – as well as those, like the dingos, who were introduced thousands of years ago – are among the strangest and most fascinating to be found on any continent. How lucky we are to have spent the afternoon in the company of this handful of animals who have been given sanctuary here.

Monitor lizard dozing on a tree, blending so well into his environment we nearly missed seeing him

N.B. An illustrated transcript of a lecture by Dr. Tim Flannery, author of The Future Eaters, is well worth reading for anyone interested in the flora and fauna of this beautiful, old, harsh, captivating continent.

The Barossa Valley, South Australia

February 8, 2009 – The Barossa Valley

It’s Valentine’s Day as I write, and I’m reminded why I try to keep up to date with this travel journal. In just a week, details have faded. But here goes…

We left Port Elliot on the second-hottest day of the South Australian heat wave and were sorry to leave the cooling breezes of that beautiful spot. [Two days later the state of Victoria burst into flames. Google has set up a Web site to track the news from the worst bushfires in decades.]

On our last full day there Mandy and Brenton came for a visit. Mandy brought me a bag full of children’s books by Australian authors (Mem Fox, Margaret Wild, and Colin Thiele). I was captivated by every one of them.

That evening a couple David and Jeannette met on one of their many long caravan tours dropped by. Ivan and Jenny spend 8-9 months of the year traveling the Australian bush, away from what they call “Plastic Australia”. Their take on Australia’s environmental challenges is informed by firsthand knowledge of this vast land. (The same could be said of David and Jeannette, who have undoubtedly seen more of Australia than all but a tiny percentage of the country’s population.)

Back in Adelaide, heat had driven thousands of tiny ants to seek sustenance and water inside the house. I tried hard to feel empathy for them but was grateful to the deterrent David and Jeannette sprinkled on their trails.

We spent the next two days glued to the computer, trying frantically to catch up with e-mails and all the financial and tax miscellany that had come in while we were offline. Then, on our last day in Adelaide, David and Jeannette took the day off to drive us out into the famed Barossa Valley. They invited long-time friends, Jill and Don Cant, to join us so we all car-switched through the day in order to visit with everyone.

The day was a sentimental journey for Robin, who spent part of his childhood in the area.

Robin standing by Gumeracha school, where he went to first grade and later taught on a teacher exchange

One of the first stops was Robin’s favourite. In this photo he is standing by the window of a classroom in the school where he spent a year on a teacher exchange. But his connection with the village of Gumeracha is much older since this is the same school where he and David went to first grade. Every corner and hill of the town holds memories.

David and Jeannette sharing a Kitchener bun

David and Robin on the Whispering Wall

The next stop was in Williamstown for morning coffee so the first photo is of David and Jeannette sharing a Kitchener bun, a deep-fried, sweet confection filled with jam and whipped cream.

From there we went on to the Barossa Reservoir. It wasn’t built to be a whispering wall, but when it was completed that characteristic became quickly evident. A person standing at one end and having a normal conversation with a mate could be heard clearly by someone standing at the other end. Robin brought tears to my eyes when he walked to the far end and pledged his lifelong commitment to me, standing at the other.

Sign by the creek that gives this winery its name

Those of you who enjoy Australian wine will recognize the name of one of the best sellers in Canada, Jacobs Creek. [Curious note: you have to enter your birth date before going onto the site, where, in theory, only those of legal drinking age are allowed.] David stopped at the actual creek so I could take a photograph of the sign that appears on the company’s advertising. The winery has been designed as a tourist destination, with wine tastings, a fine restaurant, and expansive views out over the vineyards.

Jacobs Creek vineyards

We made other stops along the way – at the Yaldarra Winery, the Peter Lehmann Winery, at Collingrove Homestead, and at the Barossa Sculpture Park on a hill that overlooks the Barossa Valley. All were wonderful, but as Jeannette rightly anticipated, my favourite stop was at Maggie Beer’s Farm Shop.

Maggie Beer's Farm Shop

The place is a foodie’s heaven. Much of the food prepared in the kitchen is grown organically on Beer’s own farm. We ordered the ingredients for a feast and ate it in a room adjoining the kitchen where her cooking show is filmed. We were there in time for a demonstration session, sliced mushrooms sautéed in butter and verjuice, the unfermented grape juice Maggie splashes into many of her signature dishes. We even got to don aprons and have ourselves photographed in the demonstration kitchen.

David, Cathryn and Robin in Maggie Beer's demonstration kitchen

And the food…ah, bliss. We nibbled her rosemary and olive oil crackers and crusty French bread, topped with vegetable and meat patés and terrines, duqqah and olive oil, pickled figs, grapes, and salad and all washed down with some of her own wines.

Picnic feast at Maggie Beer's

There was so much more to the day that I hate to stop here, but this entry has gone on too long already. Just remember that name when you come to Australia: the Barossa Valley. Plan to stay a while and eat and drink your way through some of the best South Australia has to offer.