Striking a balance. No panic. Rather, just making sensible preparations for the arrival of Severe Tropical Cyclone Yasi. The hundred kilometre wide eye expected to make landfall along the Queensland coast within the next 48 hours. Off to stock up on tinned food, bottled water, fuel for stove, cash. And a small birthday cake.
Australia Day. Celebrating what it is to be Australian. I’d feared it might be a bit too overtly nationalistic for me. Public displays of flag waving lacking appeal. Much preferring a more understated, but unquestionable, patriotism.
But I needn’t have worried. Breakfast barbeques. Bands playing in the park. Families relaxing in the shade. Rather tasteful. A few flags. Mostly face transfers at that. Perhaps that’s what it is to be Australian. Getting the job done. Without fuss or frivolity. Aborigines a bit thin on the ground mind.
They’ve certainly got a lot to celebrate. For theirs is still a very youthful nation. An entire continent elevated to first world in just a few hundred years. Remarkable achievement.
I’d wondered if there might be more subtle undertones. Seeking to bind together a diversity of immigrant cultures. But no. For, specifics aside, the underlying philosophy for being allowed to settle here seems to have been a fairly consistent one. Fitting in. Integration. And it seems to have worked pretty well. You sense, for all the diversity of backgrounds, a pretty homogenous society. Good on ya.
Birthday looming. Some celebrate with jelly and ice cream. Looks like I’m going to share mine with Tropical Cyclone Yasi. Described by Australia’s Bureau of Meteorology as a “Goliath“. Deep joy. Look carefully at the map of the system’s expected track and you’ll notice some small numbers. Indicates strength. Increasing as it approaches the coast. Four isn’t good.
Still, feeling pretty stoic about it all. For several reasons. Firstly, I’m actually quite excited. So far I’ve found myself arriving after the riots, missing the bomb attacks, escaping the flooding. Looks like I might get some first hand experience. Hoping to capture it on film. See how quickly I can get to share it on the web.
Then there’s the Aussie spirit. Talk of Cyclone parties. Batten down the hatches. Get the washing in. Find a safe refuge. First floor is good to avoid being flooded out. Tape up the windows. Grab a beer. Some friends. Watch things fly past. The odd dustbin. Debris. Livestock can be a bit problematic.
And even if my curiosity doesn’t appeal, nor does the “Dunkirk spirit”, there’s the little issue of where exactly would you go? On a bicycle? Cyclones have a habit of being a bit unpredictable. Suddenly veering off the expected track. Best to sit put.
[Image above Copyright Commonwealth of Australia Bureau of Meteorology. For illustrative rather than predictive purposes]
16,028 kilometres – 9959 miles
Distance cycled. So far. My own, reasoned, estimate had been about 10,000 miles. But now I’d got a much more accurate figure from all the GPS fixes I’d collected over the past five hundred or so days.
You’d think there’d be some nifty software to calculate the distances between fixes. But no. Not that I’ve been able to find. Rather, you must devise your own. Or ask your webmaster to help.
Enough statistics. Early morning here in Cairns. Might have to go and do a couple of loops of Cairns. Bag another 41 miles. Hit the magic 10,000.
[With especial thanks to James the webmaster for devising the software to calculate the distance ridden]
I’ve nothing but admiration for crocodiles. Evolutionary design classic. Doesn’t claim to be man’s best friend. No aspirations to be fluffy or cuddly. Rather, it simply does what it says on the tin. And does it rather well. A ruthless predator.
I smiled. Nodded appreciatively. Yes, of course, I said. Original print outs. Not a problem. And I was certain it wouldn’t be. However oxymoronic it might seem to me. Confident in my ability to generate a wide array of authentic paperwork. Central Asian visas had been such an education. Besides, I am the genuine holder of the requisite documentation. No need for any administrative creativity.
But this time I wasn’t seeking entry to another country. Rather more mundane. Enrolling with Medicare, Australia’s healthcare scheme, under a reciprocal arrangement with the UK. Nothing serious. But it would mean a forthcoming visit to a local doctor would be free. At point of delivery. Just like the NHS.
I’d provided my passport, complete with Australian immigration stamp. Cut down print out of my electronic visa. And a copy of my medical insurance certificate. The need for the latter had struck me as a little odd. After all, surely the point was that by registering with Medicare, I’d not need to use my cover. But, if there was a lesson I’d learnt on the road, best to avoid philosophical debates when dealing with bureaucracy. Rather, just feed the machine. Provide all the right answers. Nothing more.
Taking off from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Great way to go spotting crocodiles? Possibly. I’d be tempted to opt for a helicopter with floats. Just in case it ditches. Like one a few weeks ago..
Bluff Yorkshireman. Aren’t they all? And a good friend. Or at least he was the one that had encouraged me to head off around the world whilst I could. That was a while ago. But we’re still talking. Amongst the friendly banter we exchange by e-mail was the suggestion I might sometimes be a little less than erudite. A bit loquacious. Quite unfounded of course. But it got me thinking all the same…
So, you can now also keep up with my exploits on Twitter – simply click on the link to sign up. In return, you should receive my tweets – short messages, no more than one hundred and forty characters – assuming you’re following me! It’s a tough discipline but I’m determined to give it a go. And even if you don’t sign up, you can still get to see the most recent tweets on my website’s home page – on the lower right hand side.
[With especial thanks to Pete – ex-pat Yorkshireman – now lives in Devon – and Laura at The Outward Bound Trust for cajoling me – in the nicest possible way – to make use of Twitter. And Niall for being the first to follow..]
Great Knots from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Remarkably tame birds on Cairns’ seafront. And a bit smaller than fruit bats. Reckon they’re Great Knots – Calidris teruirostris – but others may know better…
At first I ignored him. He was lying prostrate a few metres away. Sheltering, as I was, from the fierce afternoon sun. An ambassador for the Aboriginal community he was not. He’d decided I was attempting to photograph him. Which wasn’t the case at all. Just using the shade to look back through the images I’d just taken of nearby fruit bats. Deciding whether or not I needed to run the risk once more of being peppered with guano. Thankfully not.
Perhaps others had photographed him without the decency to first ask. As I would always do. Not least because I suspected that true Aborigines might be fearful an image might somehow steal something of them. But, in this instance, you quickly sensed the only spirit he cared about came in a bottle.
His tone became increasingly aggressive. Enough. Advised him to mind his own business. Robustly. Very. A little road trick. Picture how a Westerner is expected to respond – what I call the script – then do something quite different. Surprisingly effective. So far. I wandered off. When I was ready. His parting words. The offer of a photograph for a dollar. Selling his soul.