Halleluiah!!! Toilet paper. COVID Tales 1

It is war folks! The fight in the trenches of the supermarkets is on. Scandalous footage televised directly into your loungeroom, revealing fisty-cuffing Aussies for nothing more, and these days nothing less, than toilet paper??? To me this phenomenon came out of left field. A bit unexpected and the question has to be asked why this sudden rush for bumwad? 

The media has grabbed hold of this subject with crazed Shakespearean gusto, amplified by social media. The urge for ‘bumff’, it has been reported, has us running around the countryside with darkly stained undies. Imagine this – going without the hygienic tickets of splash. This is a mental conundrum, much like the feeling you get when suffering from extreme diarrhea. When you got to go.

In this article I am trying to, where possible, de-bunk the hoarding myth and attempt to restore my faith in humanity.

Let’s just calm down for a minute and think about what has been happening. There is a virus called COVID-19, you may have heard about it? This nasty virus has bowel-moved everything around in Australia and the world. How does that affect the need for panic buying of ‘bum polish’? A large percentage of Aussies are out of work or have been told to stay at home. Where did they go to the toilet? You guessed it – at work! The employers of our nation provided us working folk, without question and in spades of generosity, those pristine, white paper squares that you could fold or wrap to your hearts content, free of charge and without risking your life in the supermarket aisle.

You can read the unemployment forecasts everywhere. All saying something different - 10,11 percent, possibly more, This represents a large percentage of Australians being forcefully thrown into their own dunny at home. It has become clear that no one prepared properly for a long-term increase of sustained family abuse of their own ‘poopatorium'. Many of us looked in our cupboards and found the supply of Mexican tablecloth inadequate, hence, the mad rush.

Just over two weeks ago, I was returning home from my employment with my recently re-named title of ‘essential worker’ when I stopped obediently at the traffic lights. An elderly couple crossed the road in front of me – the lady looked very happy with herself as she carried a 12-pack of TP under her arm. As I watched them pass by, a split-second crazy thought appeared in my brain - ‘go on – take the foot off the brake and push it down HARD on the accelerator’. I was ready to collect my 12-pack of thunderbox ply that I don’t even need. I want it here and I want it now, without fear of consequence. 

Immediately, I slapped myself in the head, chastising myself, and put to rest that demonic desire. Am I that disturbed? What kind of doomsday prepping, zombie world have I become part of? Let’s be honest, this Covid world has some of us a little on edge. 

My weekly shopping expedition became an orgasmic feast to the senses. I rounded the corner with my disinfected trolley and cruised into a vast open space. There it was, stacked high on four pallets was a massive amount of interconnected certificates of deposit all wrapped up in plastic. It had been over six weeks!! A joyous tear wanted to squeeze itself onto my cheek, I had struck white gold. Halleluiah!!!

Desperately, I fought off the impulse to run up, take a giant leaping dive and wallow gloriously in the soft tissue. I was at risk to embarrass myself in front of a lone shopper, a plastic gloved check out chick and more importantly a frowning security guard.

Back in control, I only purchased one pack as per Scomo's orders, "Just Stop It!" (his words).

Just one more thing - here is to the few ‘bum-nuts’ who have not been able to control themselves and scored enough dunny roll to last for three generations. You know who you are! You had us all in a big stench. This calls for a quote from one of my favourite comedians Billy Connolly, 

‘you’ve squeezed one off too early’.

The End

Brown bits:

Notice in the opening photograph that the toile paper is absent, replaced by tissues and nappies in the adjacent spaces. The mind just wanders into all sorts of trouble here.....

The Heysen Trail 17. Finding the Light



Every trail ends differently – the Kokoda track ended with an unforgettable glorious PNG national anthem being sung by the porters on top of that last grassy knoll - when I walked the last stretch of my solo Bibbulmun (don’t forget it is 960km) I was treated with a picnic by my beloved, 6km from the end, the Rocky theme was sang to me through the phone and a hospital visit followed to clean out an infected toe (all with a smile on my face) - the Great Ocean trail  ended in a magnificent stroll to the 71 Apostles (does anyone really know how many are left?) - the Annapurna ended in a jump off a row-boat in Phewa Lake disturbing the mirror image of the Fishtail Mountain –  the first and sectional attempt of the Bibbulmun track ended with the overwhelming urge to go to the toilet.

It basically all ended up in a state of euphoria!

To finish my trek on the Heysen Trail, there was only one place to be – ‘The Cedars’ Heysen's residence and pride.



The winter sun shining through the Himalayan Cedars
planted in Heysen's garden

I strapped the steadily growing pack of pain and supplies to my back again and walked, hunched over towards the bus stop. Quasimodo would have been proud of me. With a heavy heart I stood there waiting for the bus to Adelaide. ‘Its for the best’ I reassured myself.  I had booked a rental car from the airport and two bus trips later I was heading for the Adelaide Hills in a little sedan.

Seeing  a couple of the Heysen trail signs flash by around Hahndorf, I instantly missed the slow-motion visions of the natural wander. In my humble opinion and after many years of hiking, I know cars don’t care much for the soul.  They make me lazy, blasé about distances and disconnect me from my surrounds. I easily churned up over 100km in a couple of hours, more than the total I had walked in five days.

I entered the front door of the museum after getting a sneaky look at the garden and the magnificent cedar trees that are spread through the large, hilly property. A tour was set to start only five minutes later. Hans had bought the property in 1912 and lived right there until his death 46 years later.
 

A water feature next to the back door

The Heysen’s residence was a classy affair. Our guide explained how they were great entertainers. Many famous people visited and sat at the same dinner table still placed in the heart of the building - unfortunately, no photos were allowed of the inside of the cottage. There wasn't a piece of blank wall left. Magnificent still-life artworks, as well as studies and landscapes, took up every inch of the stylish but cosy property.

The Heysen's house warmly hugged by the Cedars

Hans Heysen did well for himself and his family (eight children). They lived a comfortable life at 'The Cedars'. His car, an absolute classic Ford, is still parked in the old garage next to what has to be one of the earliest caravans ever built in this country. These vehicles obviously used to travel all along the Flinders Ranges, the Fluerieu Peninsular and the rest of South Australia.

The classic Ford in sepia setting

One of his paintings was auctioned and sold while I was, coincidently, walking the trail named in his honour and fetched $110,000. Not a bad payday for whoever owned it.

The studio - where many a masterpiece was painted

In the tall, beautifully lit studio the click of connection with the talented man finally came to me. The guide flipped out several printed versions of paintings out of a large file and there it was – the stretch of coast just outside of Encounter Bay - already forever imprinted in my mind -  out in wonderful water colours - infusing the exact feeling I felt when, I swear, I stood there for real looking at it in awe. I would buy that painting if I had the money - tell my grandkids and anyone who will listen about my crazy and difficult experiences on this trail that were so rewarding and about the love I share for this country with that man Heysen.
 

Photo courtesy of nga.gov.au/exhibition/HEYSEN



No need to look any further. I found the light!

The End

Grey Bits


Here is the website once more if you plan to walk the Heysen Trail - heysentrail.asn.au



Hans at his easel in his studio

For more information about the museum visit www.hansheysen.com.au

Find out more about the record breaking, recent sale of the Heysen painting ($110,000) by clicking on this link www.adelaidenow.com.au

The Heysen Trail 16. No Rest for the Crippled




Have you ever given yourself advice and then completely ignored it? Initially I found myself putting the leg up in bed but soon had enough of laying down. I found myself wondering about and explored a very quiet Victor Harbor.

'I don’t think I make a very patient patient.'

 

Granite boulders of all shapes on Granite Island

I hobbled over to Granite Island using the jetty a couple of times. My timing always off as I was never there when the magnificent Clydesdale started to pull the whole tram carriage. Meeting the horse-powered tram halfway, I was wondering whether he had joined the UWH (union of the working  horse) and if he had negotiated enough carrots and apples in his enterprise bargaining contract. What were his future plans when eventually industrialisation takes over and canns his employment? 'How about boosting your super! mate?' His glistening hide shone in the bleak afternoon sun as he strode past me.

 

Carting a large load for humanity

One evening I joined the little penguin tour on Granite Island. I was very early and while I was standing and waiting for the guide to appear, two dolphins were forcing fish onto the rocks of the peer and snacking out - a seal cruised by only two metres away from  the jetty - the sun went down spectacularly over the mainland.

 

A tern resting on the hand-rail. Notice the lichen-coloured rocks in the background. A feature of Granite Island.

We watched these tiny fellah's come in from a rock-belting, ripping ocean and negotiate a safe passage to the undergrowth of a tranquil Granite Island. Their calls sounding out loud and clear, determining which penguin was where and who wanted to impress their mate the most.  The small group of tourists stood rubbernecking above them on the boardwalks as they made their way, unseen, to their hollows. Here, the pairs of 'little penguins' relaxed on their balconies in front of their cosy homes and cuddled and smooched.

 

Love was in the air!!!

 

Yep!! Cute!!Photograph courtesy of Pintrest

Our knowledgeable guide Terry came out with a passionate plea to protect these vulnerable creatures from extinction.  "They are easy prey for cats, foxes and sharks" he said. The intrusion of humans on their habitat has had a massive impact. No wonder these cute little feathered creatures look for deserted islands to nest.
 

 

A little penguin calling out for its companion

 

For one day I endeavoured  to be a train enthusiast and caught the bumblebee to Goolwa. The old fashioned, volunteer-fixed, historic ride swaying between the rusted rails past Flueriue’s county side and splendid beaches. The wooden carriage filling up with families and that nostalgic, but distinct diesel fragrance. We greeted every crossing with the hoot-hoot of yesteryear. Thomas the Tank Engine's grand-poppy still made it up the hill even though it wasn’t Usain Bolt's record breaking speed that got us there.

 

Goolwa, you may recall, is the place where a bridge was built despite the protests of the Indigenous population claiming the site was used for secret women's business. It is a quaint little town where the mighty Murray river flows between the mainland and Hindmarsh Island. You can find paddle steamers, home boats for hire, cafes, an arts exhibition centre and even a distillery graces the side of the river. It appears to be another popular tourist precinct and definitely cries out for further exploration.  For now, this 'traino' hopped back on the Goolwa Train and returned to Victor Harbour.



The toilet in Goolwa appears to be sinking

Many a mother and child tried to dislodge me from the front seat next to the driver, but I stubbornly refused to take heed of the subtle nudges and comments. Taking a photo of myself to prove to you that even in the middle of the day and sitting next to a diesel engine, I still needed a beany. 
 



A rare shot of a cold nomad



I was attempting to walk back normally, from my night out with the romantic penguins, when I came to the realisation that I needed to pull the pin on the Heysen trail. I wasn’t enjoying the awkward short walks without my pack. How on earth would I go piggy-backing a sumo wrestler. Having never had to quit any track before, I would rather amputate a limb or two and carry on fighting like a man, this was a moment where I felt something tear on the inside. The cold wind making my eyes water as I walked back under the street lights of the jetty feeling all ‘film noir’ if there is such a thing. The sensation of failure not easily dealt with.  

 

The jetty at sunset

I don’t know why or how it happens but moments later my mind swished to a new frontier. Isn't it all about how one bounces back? Visions of a non-hiking, maybe even a driving Semi-Grey Nomad floated through my mind. Two weeks left before my flight back to Alice Springs.

What the hell will be next? 


Maybe I will join these guys

 Grey Bits

There is a great article written in The Age about the secret women's affair. Here is the link. www.theage.com.au
 

The controversial Hindmarsh Bridge

For more information about visiting Goolwa and the surrounding area, click on the following link www.visitalexandrina.com

My blog has recently hit the 10,000 viewer mark without a marketing strategy. This is awesome! Thanks for the clicks.
 




Granite Island is teaming with wildlife. This is a little quail I found there

The Heysen Trail 15. Anchored

 

I admit it!!! It was me!!! Blame me for the water shortage in the state of South Australia. I defied the ‘three minute' sign on the shower wall. Little did the water authorities know I had to get rid of five days worth of Kermit’s spawn. Every crevasse needed a good soaking, besides some of my extremities were in need of a good defrost. It was crispy-bitter that first night. The old building breathing frosted air through its large echoing hallways and the air-conditioning wasn’t yet discovered as being of the reverse kind. This made me curl up under the single thin blanket with all my clothes on wanting to forget about the world.




The stained-glass window in the stair-well

I slowly crab-walked downstairs on my first morning over the squeaky, carpeted wooden steps. Warm smokey air wafted towards me in the hallway. The huge café out the back wrapped around one of the biggest roaring potbelly stoves in the southern hemisphere. A herd of anti-hitchhiking grey nomads almost melted to its blackened features. Stiff joints and runny noses all soothed by the flames. Nobody in the place was in need of a jumper.

Very secretly, I fancy myself as a hotel reviewer with odd tendencies of a restaurant reporter (don’t tell anyone) and ordered a flat white. My goodness - the taste exploded in my head like a misfired rocket from North Korea. The eggs florentine to follow equally as vivid in its experience. “This is the best restaurant I have ever eaten in. "A ten and a half out of ten,” I thought but then remembering the cardboard-flavoured food that I ate on the Heysen trail and toned the mark down somewhat.

All sorts of materials used in this establishment

I started to have a look around the café/restaurant and noticed that the structure and contents appeared to be made out of recycled materials that gave it that smashed advo, industrial feel.  Large pillars holding up massive black steel beams connected by an engineered cable crossover that once upon a time could have towed a ‘Geograph’ or a ‘Reliance’.  The modern lighting atmospherically blending it all together pleasantly and looks like it would have cost a fair florin or two.



Avant-garde light switches

There was much to like about the café. The fact that it had chairs, pleased me no end as I had been scrounging around for somewhere comfortable to sit while I was on the trail. The whole cappuccino conveyor belt was enclosed by a low granite wall with massive glass panels drawing your view to the ocean visible through the Norfolk Pines in the distance.



A cuppa to remember

The massive bright yellow La Maezocco reincarnation machine stood firmly on a custom made concrete slab that was paneled with weathered floorboards or were they salvaged from an old ship? Another feature that stuck out was at the back wall of the café. It consisted of two huge barn doors. 'Handy' I thought, 'In case a road trains wants to come in and grab a long black on its way to Darwin'.

Ignoring all the visual goodies so far perused in this trendy but friendly caf you still can't help but spot the essence of the place positioned elegantly on the polished concrete. The old whaling boat converted to a bar now serving a variety of beer and other alcoholic beverages. Its wooden shellacked features taking you back to a time of tough sailing and of piercing the unsuspected. A reminder of a rugged past in which we didn’t know any better, but also an ode to the craftsmanship of the boat building industry and very clever marketing.

Barn doors, concrete floors and a whaling boat

The idea was to spend two nights at Victor Harbor, buy some more supplies, rest the leg and continue on to Adelaide on my much loved Heysen Trail. I decided to stay for one extra night, and then another and finally because the knee was still not right, another........

 Grey Bits

Look, this isn't an advertisement but the Anchorage Seafront Hotel is worth a visit. It is very close to the old railway station and the horse-drawn tram. Check it out. anchoragehotel.com.au

As a tourist, there is plenty to do in Victor Harbor. I always kept an eye out for a whale, back slamming the waters of the bay. Unfortunately the whales that were frolicking about were out too far for me to walk or swim to. The Whale Centre keeps a log of sightings and will send you an email as soon as a sighting is confirmed. This is their website www.sawhalecentre.com.au
 

Photo courtesy of victorharboraccommodation.net

Contact the info centre, which is run by volunteers, for more information on this tourist hot spot. encountervictorharbor.com.au.

Take note you history buffs - Encounter Bay is the place where Nicholas Baudin's Geograph met Matthew Flinders in the Reliance on the 8 April 1802. It was said (by Wikipedia) that the encounter was a peaceful one even though France and England were at war. My guess is that the meeting was an exchange of information and possibly goods needed for survival, beating any conflict on the other side of the world. 

I can imagine Nicholas and Matthew having a couple of frothies together?

The Heysen Trail 14. Limp Epiphanies

 

Wolf Creek has forever changed the landscape as far as hitchhiking is concerned in this country. It is rare to see someone with their thumb up on the side of the road these days.

I had not accounted for a pavement pounding seven kilometre on top of the 17 km I had already  grafted out on the cliff faces on this trail. In a town full of retirees, I was awfully mistaken thinking someone would give me a lift to Victor Harbor. I guess that if I was one of the three fresh young ladies I met at the Deep Creek waterfall, I would have gotten a lift instantly. A wet, tired looking, shivering,  limping hiker with an obvious bowel problem, judging by those stained shorts, is much too Harry Taylor like to offer a ride. ‘Betsy, you never know with the youth of today’ and ‘Darling he is going to mess up the car.’ I imagined conversations that would be had in those warm four-wheel drives that drove past me.

 

The cold weather of Victor Harbor. Notice how my lens was smudged by
 remnants of the Heysen Trail bush

So on I walked!

Believe me, walking an extra seven km through this cold and windy place was fruitful in regards to a spot of epiphany hunting.

“Overall Mars” I told myself, “you still love this stuff”. Even walking with the bad combination of freezing hands and busting to go to the toilet (hands-free effort required), I maintained I was in the right place and at the right time. For me, hiking beats any TV program, anything you will ever find on the net (my blog included) or any other self-challenging activity I can possibly think of. Some may prefer to hang off cliffs with ropes, jump out of planes, be chucked down a ravine attached to a 'lacky' band or swim in altitude sickness on Mt Everest, but I loved the mixed-nut-bag of experiences on the Heysen trail. It has given me so much to live through that it has lit me up like a Territory Day cracker night. 'Who would ever think I would write fourteen blogs about a five day trek?'

 

Aproaching Victor Harbor and Granite Island

Hiking has proved to be more difficult this time around. This is something that is hard to come to terms with for my inner competitive self. The recently operated knee had michellinned out of proportions during the last hobble to the Harbor without the guarantee that it would ever improve. 'Totally reckless, to put yourself in this situation', some would argue but I just can’t see the point of staying at home and watch Bear Grills get his thrills. I may have to reduce the distances I walk per day or travel lighter – whatever that looks like. Maybe a bit of ‘enjoy it while you can’ could be a point to make here?

An observant reader of the first couple of my Heysen trail blogs would have noticed that there were many complaints about the weight of the backpack I was carrying. I have called it every name under the sun and thought about turning it into an unloved orphan many times. I think it even tried to throw me down a cliff just to get even. Well!!!  This bag of repulsion appeared miraculously light five days in. First of all, the balanced amount of stodgy hiking feed had all but vanished out of the pack. Much of the 'almost' edible kilos destroyed by outrageous, much needed, gobble sessions lightening the load.  Man, did I eat on that track!!

 

The whaling past of Victor Harbor commemorated in the town square by this water feature

 

Secondly, I realized that the bruising of the straps around my shoulders had hardened up to calluses with skin peeling everywhere. Every muscle from the neck to and including the Netherlands had gone 'toight'. The pack of sorrow, galvanizing all previous back issues, some stress-related I am sure, into surprising solid Dutch Oak. Am I saying that this trudging business can make you stronger, healthier?
 

Stumbling into a strange place

While I was walking, philosophizing and epiphanizing I had switched on the phone, googled a hotel and pressed the directions button. I followed the blue dotted line on the screen that appears when you press the rarely used, little lady that likes to walk and talk with you. She appears to know where you are at all times! I rounded the point where the horse-drawn carriage takes off to Granite Island and in the end I stood there in the lobby of this old creeker of a hotel tantalizingly named “the anchorage”.  Feeling totally hollowed out, destroyed and swaying on my legs, I bravely negotiated a good price for an ocean view while apologizing for my dishevelled appearance. 

I think I needed a break.

'Please? - No more - Drop the anchor!!!'


Grey Bits
 

The view from my room that night

 

The Heysen Trail 13. Catching a Rainbow

 

You want a walk to remember? Walk the stretch from Waitpinga to Victor Harbor. It is simply stunning. 

 

From the campsite there is an easy, sandy trail through pretty, tall bush that suddenly cracks open to reveal the wild ocean. The high vantage point on top of the cliff brought the clouds so close I could almost touch the rainbows plunging down into the deep. I stretched my arm out across the massive drop to try the impossible – touch the multi-coloured light. Self preservation prevailed as any effort to lean further over the edge would have seen the untimely demise of this semi-grey nomad.

 

Wonderful wild flowers of the area

 

Where there is a rainbow (see opening photograph) there is light and water. Clouds, haze, heat, cold, wind, rain and beautiful sunshine were revolving around me like I was a lone sock in a washing machine. Still wearing my brown/green stained shorts, I was forced to wear my rain jacket. The combo not exactly a high-flying fashion statement, but it just had to make do. I caught glimpses of an even taller cliff and the heart started beating faster as it came near.

Again, a sudden opening in the bush revealed a small flat area – a viewing platform with the best location of a picnic bench I have ever seen. There was no way I could ignore its urgent call.

The arched face of the ancient continent boasted a serrated front much like a chippies saw blade which raised out of the ocean like a broad skyscraper. The pack came off in a hurry and an extensive morning tea was held simply to soak in this enormous view. A beautiful feeling washed over me. It seemed a little bizarre to feel such a large strand of freedom standing on top of a tall ridge all sweaty, smelly and with a crappy knee, but it was a rare moment of perfection.

I tried to slow down - make it last - cling on -  be inspired by the moment - capture it - gather it up - save it for the pen.



Taken from the picnic bench

But life has a knack to want to go on. The feeling faded and the stove and gas bottle always ends up inside the almighty cup - all packed up and ready to go.

A couple with down-syndrome and what I presumed was a carer, walked up the trail as I took on the long decent to the beach. Great memories of long bushwalks as a carer in a past life came flooding back. Thoughts of many wonderful people I hiked with entertained me for a long time. What a great gift to give each other - A picnic in the sky.

 

Looking back - thinking about the past

 

The rain started lashing down as a large dark cloud raced past overhead. The trail became slippy, more like a waterfall in places. A young woman stood fully kitted out in rain garb talking on her mobile somewhere down the track.

 

Calling from a muddy trail

 

Civilisation was drawing near and I could see a car park next to a beach. I stood and chatted to a couple of beach walkers who had just spotted a seal in the ocean. I was no longer walking on the Heysen trail. It took a left turn at Kings Beach and curved around Victor Harbor to continue north to Adelaide.



Heysen capturing Kings Head and the large cliffs from around Rosetta Head
Photo courtesy of Pintrest

I cut across Kings Head where a rocky West Island lays only a short distance off the coast and continued through the rain along rugged rocks and seaweed covered beaches with my head down. Rosetta Head, a rock that needs exploring some other time, is the point where a bitumised trail plunged to Encounter Bay - zero altitude. A flat, tarred bike path is a strange sensation to walk on after days of uneven tracks. 'You mean I can let my mind wonder while I am walking - relax?'

 

West Island



The sound of cars and chatty retirees walking their dogs greeted me as I made my way, excitedly, to the first available café I could find along the glorious foreshore. I was forced to sit inside due to another storm passing overhead. All the tables were full, but an elderly, West Australian couple from Mandurah invited me to sit at their table. A large coffee and Haloumi burger with chips later I felt, in a weird kind of way, like I had arrived at home..... and a bit bloated.



A White-Faced Herron posing in front of the ocean



Grey Bits

The reeds that are growing here along the ocean and rivers were once used by the Raminjeri people to make spears, rafts, baskets, ornaments and even clothing.



Multi-purpose grass