Adelaide

   Doortje and I set off for Adelaide on Wednesday, 30th February, to spend time catching up with John and Sue at Hawthorndene and Circosis at the Adelaide Fringe Festival.  We spent a night at Naracoorte and arrived at John's on Thursday afternoon.

   John and Sue arranged for us to go to the Wittunga Under the Stars event in nearby Blackwood on Friday night.

 

   The stage was set among gum trees and we took folding chairs to listen to the various groups.  I liked the trad jazz ensemble and the youthful quartet, The Bearded Gypsy, who featured violin and nice guitar.

We enjoyed a glass of red as the sun began to set...

...but the absolute highlight of the evening was the fantastic pasties that John had made specially for the occasion.  We ate them cold and the flavour and pastry were superb.

   On Saturday, we continued to enjoy the bird life on the back deck and Jan and Ebony, down from Port Pirie, came for a visit.  In the late afternoon, we all joined up with Jason, Deb and Brooke at the Bakehouse Theatre in the city to see Andrew and Sarah's final performance of A Circus Affair.

   In Thursday's Adelaide Advertiser, a centre spread about the Fringe had as its centrepiece a Circosis photo and a review with three stars.  Andrew and Sarah were tickled pink and the Saturday night was a sell-out!  We all enjoyed the show immensely and were very proud.

   After the show, we went to Alfonso's in Hutt Street, quite near the theatre, for a meal together, the South Australian branch of Cookmob, plus Circosis and the "roadies" Baba and Ilsa. 

   On Sunday, we all met up again at Andrew and Sarah's digs on the beachfront at West Beach, and then went off to lunch at the nearby Ramsgate Hotel.  In this pic are Jason, Deb, Sue, Ebony and Andrew.

   Seated for lunch at the Ramsgate, proud parents talking to Andrew and Sarah, Deb and Jason at the end, then Ebony and Jan, and Sue in the foreground, photo taken by John.

   On Sunday night, Doortje and I were able to stay in the house at West Beach with Andrew and Sarah, since Baba and Ilsa left on the Ghan to Alice at mid-day and their bedroom was spare.  This was the view of the foreshore from the bedroom window.  

   With Andrew and Sarah, we went into the city to see a couple of fringe shows - Leo, rated five stars, and Benny B, a friend of Andrew and Sarah, whose show was Snarp!  Later we had a nice meal, which included goat, at a Henley Beach Indian restaurant.

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   We started the homeward trek on Monday, travelling via Victor Harbour and Goolwa, where we had lunch near the bridge to Hindmarsh Island.  Before it was built, the proposed bridge caused extreme friction between Indigenous groups and became a political football involving sacred sites and pro-development politicians.  Look who won!

   We crossed the Murray on the Wellington punt, drove along the Coorong (now full of water) got past some Limestone Coast wineries, and then went across country to Horsham, where all motels were fully booked for the Horsham Field Days.  We drove on to Stawell.  Same story, but after driving around in circles in the dark, we were told there was a vacancy at the Magdala Motel back on the western outskirts.  They were so obliging they cooked us a meal at 8.45pm!

   And so, on Tuesday we arrived home after a few marvellous days.  Thanks to John and Sue for great hospitality,  Jason, Deb and Brooke, Jan and Ebony, for joining us to make the weekend memorable, and Andrew and Sarah for a wonderful show.

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Alan's Visit

   My brother Alan came down from Darwin to visit for ten days or so, and we had a great time while he was here.  Soon after he arrived we went to the Dutch Festival at Sandown and met up with the Oakleigh and Glen Waverley branches of the family.  Stinken hot but enjoyable!

   Doortje took this photo in a bird hide at the Briars, Mornington, where we were looking at birds and hoping to have lunch (the restaurant was closed!).

 The portrait of the little egret was also taken from the bird hide.

   On the weekend, the whole clan came to Derna Crescent to "hang out" with Alan, and to celebrate his birthday.  Daniel was probably in the kitchen (as he often is) and Andrew and Sarah in Alice of course.  Ronja and Mason were here with the adults, the other grandkids out playing. (Some grannies reckoned they had two grandpas!)

 

Needless to say, we enjoyed ourselves!  Happy birthday, Al!

    We took Alan to Max's restaurant (rated with lots of stars) at the Red Hill Estate winery.  Two grumpy old men had lots to say; eg they wouldn't give us free water (not connected to the mains!), the table was wobbly and the acoustics were bad.

   However, the meals were beautiful, and for that, we were very grateful.  (Note the monogrammed plate!)

*     *     *     *     *

All in all, we had a great time.  Thanks, Kim, for letting your man off the leash!

Wedding Anniversary

           Happy anniversary to my older brother, John, and Sue, for today is their 49th wedding anniversary. 

 

   Congratulations, John and Sue, and well done!  It's a great achievement, and only a short rush to gold, the big one!  (The photo was taken in front of the mudbrick wall at Wiseleigh in the mid nineties.
 

   This photo was taken in 1989 at the party at Dad's place for John and Sue's 25th anniversary.

   At that time, I wrote the song "Winning Silver", the words of which are reproduced below.

 This photo was also taken at Dad's house at the party for the 25th anniversary, when the singing of "Winning Silver" was in full swing.

    

Winning Silver

1. He gave up his uniform in '64,

    Listen to our little story

    There's a girl in Adelaide attracts him more.

    We'll tell everything we know

    Up at midnight she was writing poetry,

    Oh amazing little story

    Writing masterpieces for her man to see.

    Do you think that we would lie?

Chorus:   And we'll raise our glass

                To the years gone past

                And the days that we remember well.

2. They were married on a summer afternoon,

    Listen to our little story

    They wouldn't take brothers on the honeymoon.

    We'll tell everything we know

    They lived at Stepney with a little black car,

    Oh amazing little story

    They could not afford fuel to get them home to Ma.

    Do you think that we would lie?

Chorus:

3. They had great parties 'til the early morn,

    Listen to our little story

    But things were different when Michele was born.

    We'll tell everything we know

    They moved down south to the salt sea air,

    Oh amazing little story

    Hiding under a cabbage was the son and heir.

    Do you think that we would lie?

Chorus:

4. They soon got weary of the great outback,

    Listen to our little story

    They left it forever when they left Port Mac.

    We'll tell everything we know

    Now they mark school papers and they drink red ned,

    Oh amazing little story

    Or they watch television 'til it's time for bed.

    Do you think that we would lie?

Chorus:

5. The years have flown and they are turning grey,

    Listen to our little story

    The house is quiet with the kids away.

    We'll tell everything we know

    So she turns down the lights and says "It's time we played!",

    Oh amazing little story

    But he hasn't turned up his flamin' hearing aid!

    Do you think that we would lie?

Chorus:

6. They've got the silver, now they'll go for gold,

    Listen to our little story

    It's a shame that we have to wait until we're old.

    We'll tell everything we know

Chorus: 

-------------------------- End of Post

Sacrificial Paragraph

   You may well ask what a "sacrificial paragraph" is!

   The observant among readers of this blog will have noticed that from some time late last year the last paragraph of my posts was being formatted differently from the rest of the post, with different font, font size and/or justification (see the post previous to this as an example).  This was not my doing - it was done by the mysterious hand of Blogger, and there has been nothing I could do to rectify it despite much trying.

   I hit upon the idea of announcing the end of the post with something like "End of Post" and following that with a sacrificial paragraph.  The sacrificial paragraph would act like sacrificial metal or a sacrificial anode which is allowed to rust or degenerate to save the stuff you don't want damaged.  The sacrificial paragraph would have corrupted formatting but the rest of the post would be untouched.

   Unfortunately, that didn't work either!  When I tried it, Blogger did its random thing on the second-last paragraph as well, and I see that some posts have more than one paragraph corrupted, so I abandoned the exercise.

   I wait with bated breath to see what Blogger does with this post.  Does it have intelligence?  Will it now react to me reacting to the formatting interference?

---------End of Post---------------

   This is a sacrificial paragraph.  It is not germaine to the rest of the post, or in this case, is it?  Time alone will tell.  I am perfectly sober!

Home Sweet Home Pt 1

   Here's the first part of some notes about all the places I've lived in over the years.  Click on the photos to make them larger.

1.  97 Owen St, Woodville Nth, SA

   I was born in Adelaide and lived my first fourteen years in Woodville North, to the north-west of the city.  97 Owen Street is on the corner of Owen Street and Thirteenth Avenue.  The house was in a large estate of identical rental houses built of fibro-cement sheet and tiled roofs, to house workers at the adjacent Finsbury Munitions Factory which opened in 1941 to build mainly shell casings for the war effort.  Dad moved there with Mum from Perth to work as an engineer in the factory, which had a foundry and rolling mill.

    The first photo shows the house soon after it was built but not completed (the window awnings had not been added).  Mum is standing at the front with Auntie Hazel, visiting from Perth.

   This photo was taken in about 1953 when the yard was established with hedges, fruit trees and chooks' yard.  The house had three small bedrooms, a dining table in the kitchen, and lounge room.  The bathroom contained the toilet and had a chip heater above the bath, and there was a wood-heated copper and cement trough in the laundry.  Dad built a back verandah and then enclosed it to form a sleep-out when there were five boys needing space.  He also built two sheds in the back, one to hold the car, workbench, etc, and a new car entrance in the side fence.

   This house still stands, with an extra room or two added on the Thirteenth Ave side.

2.  26 Kipling Ave, Glengowrie, SA

   In 1959, we moved to a new house that Mum and Dad designed and had built.  It was large and solid.  All the walls were brick- double-brick cavity walls on the outside, single inside, built on foundations and the floors filled in with concrete, so it was very quiet, designed to accommodate teenage boys.

  The photo was taken soon after we moved in, with five boys and one dog- I'm with the dog, Mickey.

While the next door block remained vacant for several years, Dad used it to grow vegetables.

   Most of the living space was across the back of the house (north side).  The laundry, kitchen and dining room were only separated by benches or half-height wall, making a huge space.  The living room could be closed off and ran from front to back of the house (next to the carport).  Four bedrooms were in the front wing of the L-shape.  There were both a bathroom and shower room, each with a toilet.  Luxury!

   This photo, taken recently when it had new owners, comes from Google streetview, showing the front garden with lilly-pilly and lots of shrubs removed, and was taken not long before the house was demolished and replaced with a two-storey McMansion!!

3.  Muloorina Station, SA

   My first teaching job, in 1965, was at Muloorina, north-west of Marree, on the bank of the Frome River just before it runs into Lake Eyre.  My accommodation for two years was a self-contained flat built onto the north-west corner of the main homestead.

   The door to the flat is to the left of the green tank, with my kitchen window beside it.  (The door further left is to the laundry).  There was a bedroom, and a living area that included kitchen and a toilet and shower walled-off in one corner.  A passage joined the front door to the back door.  I wasn't flash with housework, and when the green lino turned to red after dust storms, I used to make clean tracks one broom wide from front door to kitchen sink, to bedroom and then to back door so I could walk bare-footed without getting my sweaty feet covered with red mud.

   The flat is still there but the school building has been removed, bought by some community group.

4.  Hesso Pump Station

   In 1967 I spent twelve months at Hesso, 60km north of Port Augusta.  The school and my caravan were at the pump booster station several kilometres west of the Stuart Highway (which serviced the water pipeline from the Murray River to Woomera and Whyalla), but most students were bussed from the railway siding next to the highway.

    My accommodation was a "silver bullet", a caravan clad with polished metal (aluminium?), the walls all vertical and all edges rounded.  This polaroid photo is the only one I have showing the set up.  The caravan was completely conventional except for the outside cladding (unlike the NT "silver bullets" which were huge, high off the ground and built for hot weather with lots of louvres).  I made the additions to help keep the car cool and provide for a camp stretcher outside when required.

    This photo, taken from an 8mm movie, shows the "carport" construction.  I stood railway sleepers on end, part buried, to provide structure, and the roof is mostly an old corrugated water tank cut into pieces.

   In 1968, when I was gone, they appointed two teachers to do the work I had been doing on my own, and built a house for them!  (I had 30 kids, grades Prep to 7, including 5 new kids aged 5!)  Now all the infrastructure has returned to bush except for an unmanned pump and a couple of houses which look fairly derelict.

5.  Moline, NT

   I was at Moline for 12 months in 1968, about 60km east of Pine Creek in what is now Kakadu NP.  Moline was a mining town owned by United Uranium that produced silver, lead and zinc from the Mt Evelyn mine when it became uneconomic to mine uranium at the El Sherana mine.  The town had 180 miners housed in single quarters and a handful of management couples with kids, hence the school.

   This is the only picture I have of my quarters, known locally as a donga, (rhymes with "longer"), a single-roomed hut that measured about 4 metres by 3 and contained a bed, cupboard and my record player on a little table.  It had metal louvres on all sides to allow the breeze to penetrate - the only concession to the tropical climate.

   I had my meals at the miners' mess and was provided with a "cut lunch" (sandwiches).  Recreation was provided by the "wet canteen" (open-air pub) or on pay nights by card games in the mess - these usually finished on Saturday mornings when breakfast became available.  There were no shops or any other facilities normally taken for granted.

   Not only the school and my donga are now gone but the whole Moline site is a large water-filled hole as large as the blue lake at Mt Gambier with nothing left to see of habitation.

6.  Parap, Berrimah, Milner, NT 

   In 1969 I worked at Nightcliff Primary in Darwin and lived in three different places.  The first was provided by the Commonwealth government at the Ross Smith Hostel on Parap Road.  This complex was former RAAF quarters handed over for use by public servants.  Again I had a donga, but this time not detached as at Moline - the side and rear walls had neighbours behind them.  Ventilation was restricted to the front wall so I was glad that an overhead fan was provided, given that I arrived at the height of the wet season.

   I think this building, part of the large complex, contains about 12 dongas, six on each side.  It's the only picture I can find anywhere of the hostel, lifted from Doug Whitfield's book Call of the Kyeema.  Thanks to Tangee Publishing!

   There was a mess that provided morning and evening meals and a cut lunch, but the meals were awful and because of this no-one stayed at the hostel for longer than necessary, it being uneconomic to buy food elsewhere as well as pay the hostel.  I probably stayed there two or three months.

   Friends I met while at Hesso, Lyle and Kay Sims, arrived in Darwin and offered to take me on as a boarder.  They had a caravan and annexe in a caravan park at Berrimah, so I had the camp stretcher in the annexe (with no overhead fan!) and we all managed to cope with that for a few weeks!

   Finally, I went to board with Murray and Joan Lion in Sabine Road, Milner, opposite Milner Primary, and spent the rest of the year with them.  Murray was also a teacher at Nightcliff.

    I think this house on the right, taken from Google Streetview,  was the Lion house, but can't be certain without going to look.  Anyway, I include it to give the flavour - those familiar with Darwin will know the tropical style, a house on stilts with lots of louvres and good flow-through ventilation, as well as plenty of greenery to help keep things cool, and there were overhead fans in all the rooms.  The polished wooden floors always felt cool to bare feet.  The Lions' house was rented furnished from the Government and I do remember that the Govt issue cane lounge chair cushions were covered with sticky vinyl!

7.  Leitre, West Sepik, PNG

   In 1970 I went to New Guinea to teach in a Catholic school at Leitre, 50km east of Vanimo on the north coast.  Leitre was really just a clearing between the jungle and the beach.  It had an airstrip, a church and school for the benefit of 3 or 4 villages up and down the coast, and living quarters for priest, teachers and a few others.

    The photo shows the only non-traditional building at Leitre - it had 3 bedrooms, two of which were for visitors, and a shower/toilet.  It was made of a steel dexion-angle type of frame which was gradually rusting away from the salt spray; some steel supports for the verandah had been repaired with timber and fencing wire.  It was necessary to step around the holes in the timber verandah floor.  The thatched building to the right was a married teacher's quarters.

    Meals and living space were provided in this high-set thatched building further away from the beach. Downstairs were kitchen and priest's bedroom and workshop.  Upstairs was a large open living area with dining table.  A cook was employed to prepare meals for the whitefellas (the priest and me), which is why I couldn't look at white rice again for years afterwards.  After the evening meal there was an hour when the mosquitoes became vicious and this was when I played darts.  It was impossible to sit still but pacing back and forth to the dartboard kept the mossies at bay somewhat - I like to think that I became fairly good!

   Doortje was living at the Lote mission (near Vanimo) which is where we met (and fell in love!).

8.  Lower Settlement Road, Pearsondale, Vic

   When I arrived back in Australia I stayed with Doortje and her parents on their dairy farm, "Ommel", at Pearsondale near Sale, until we were married in May, 1971.

   This shows the farm more recently, but at that time cows were still being milked twice a day and the paddocks irrigated from the Latrobe River, which is off to the right of the swamp on the right.  An irrigation ditch runs along the fence line.  I learnt to milk cows and drink lots of coffee!

   We had our wedding reception on the front lawn as well as in the large front room of the house.

9.  246 York St, Sale, Vic

   After we were married, Doortje and I moved into Mrs Luscombe's house in York Street in Sale.  York Street is also the Princes Highway which doglegs through the town.

   The house still exists as this photo shows.  We rented a bedroom at the back of the house and had a toilet and shower as well as a make-do kitchen bench all on the enclosed back verandah.  Our part of the house was "self-contained".  We were invited to use the front lounge-room to watch TV but never did, only venturing into the rest of the house when Mrs Luscombe, who lived alone, asked for help with something.  We had use of the garage as Mrs Luscombe had no car.  I used it for storage and a workshop- I remember building a bookcase from 12" x 1" pine planks which then stood in the bedroom.

10.  3936 Malay Road,Wagaman, NT

   At the beginning of 1972, I got a job with the Commonwealth Teaching Service which had just been formed, and Doortje and I headed for Darwin.  We spent a few weeks in a motel in the city until our brand new rental house in Wagaman was complete and ready for us to move in.

    The 3-bedroom house was standard tropical design supplied by the Commonwealth for public servants.  It had polished dark wooden floors, floor to ceiling louvres and overhead fans in all main rooms, and was far superior to the new on-ground brick houses built for public rental by non-employees.  There was a mixture of the two types in Wagaman, which was a brand new suburb of 90% rental housing.

   
   The yard was bare, but by the end of the year, we had lawn, thriving banana and paw-paw trees and plenty of shrubs including the ubiquitous multi-coloured crotons.  I recall going outside after rain and digging holes in the slightly softer ground with a knife-sharpening steel (?) and then poking pieces of buffalo grass runners into the holes to establish our front lawn.

   Jacqui was born in May and Doortje remembers that the polished floors showed up all Jac's dribbles once she was crawling, and that the balconies weren't big enough for playing or keeping cool without going downstairs.

    We moved after twelve months and not long after that the house was no more.  This photo, taken after Cyclone Tracy, shows that no 3936 was turned into what was known locally as a "dance floor".  The house was blown away leaving the polished timber floor and the laundry and storage shed underneath.

To be continued... 

A Travelogue

   We've just come back from a trip to the Sapphire coast and hinterland in NSW, primarily to visit Ian and Rose at Mogareeka, and Fran at Numeralla.

  

   We set out last Tuesday morning and drove to Lakes Entrance where we spent the night.  We had dinner at the floating seafood restaurant across the road from our motel;  Doortje's fish and chips were beautifully cooked and tasted superb.

   On Wednesday we followed the main road through Orbost, Cann River and Genoa, then across the border into NSW and on to lunch at Eden.  Eden is a very hilly town, but the views of the coastline and Twofold Bay are beautiful.

   In the afternoon, we drove through Merimbula and then Pambula, where I took a wrong turn and we enjoyed more of the "suburbs" than intended; and then on to Tathra and Mogareeka, which is on the north side of the Bega River mouth at the northern end of the Tathra beach.  Ian and Rose's house is up the hill overlooking the river mouth to the east, and being on a ridge, there are also views of the estuary and forest to the west.  Cunningly, the house has balcony decks on the east and west sides to take advantage of the stunning views. 

     Rose and Ian wasted no time in tempting us with lots of goodies and we were soon enjoying al fresco wining and dining, which included locally smoked ham and chicken.

   On Thursday Ian drove us north to explore the coastline further.  We walked to the inlet at Bithry, the property that was donated to National Parks by the architect Roy Grounds.  Manning Clark had a property on the northern bank of the inlet.  Then we went to Bermagui and had a beer on the verandah of the pub overlooking the harbour and coastline, a terrific view that includes Camel Rock.  We drove back to Mogareeka inland via Cobargo and Bega, and Ian bought oysters from the oyster lady as we passed through Tathra.

    Ian "shucked" the oysters like an expert, being careful not to spill any of the salt water they contained.  They were as fresh as is possible, unless we were to stand in the water ourselves and eat them as they were harvested.

   The oysters tasted so fresh, with that great combination of salt water and lemon juice.  I had the privilege of eating the last one!

   While we sat on the deck we saw lots of birds.  The trees were full of bell miners and lorikeets, and each evening a family of black cockatoos came to drink close by and sat in the trees a few metres away.  On Thursday evening Ian smoked some salmon in the barbecue and it was superb.

   On Friday morning Doortje and I reluctantly left Mogareeka and headed north.  We passed through Bermagui and spent some time at Tilba Tilba, a national trust town turned into tourist shopping, including Tilba cheese.  Further north we came to Bodalla, Moruya and Bateman's Bay.  We had a late lunch inland at Nelligen with a nice view of the upper reaches of the Clyde River.  The traffic from Canberra to Bateman's Bay was thick - Doortje counted sixty cars lined up behind a truck crawling up an incline.  We reached Braidwood in late afternoon and booked into the motel.  We had a surprisingly good meal at the Royal Arms pub.

   On Saturday morning, the park in the main street of Braidwood was bustling with Australia Day activity, sausage sizzle and lots of flags.  We headed south and found the turnoff to Cooma.  The road was pleasantly minor with negligible traffic, passing through peaceful farmland until we reached forested country and the road was unsealed.

   When we climbed up into the Badja state forest, we drove through low cloud or mist for some time.  The road was stony but fine for two-wheel drive traffic.

   Late in the morning we reached Fran's property east of Numeralla.  She was not home but a friend was there to show us the improvements she has made to the house.   

   The two-storey right-hand side of the house is new and very well done.  We continued west to Numeralla, where the Music Festival was in full swing.

    When we arrived,  Fran was in the middle of a dance class in the hall.  Here she is backlit by the light coming in the front door.  The tuned played by the band was instantly recognisable as the one that is always played when fiddle and squeezebox players come together!

   After coffee and a brief yarn with Fran, who was busy as an organiser of the festival, we headed off to Cooma, where a Turkish café provided some beaut olives, feta and flatbread.  An Australia Day shindig was in full swing in the main park, complete with car display and jumping castle, and speeches about immigration from the stage.

   That afternoon we headed off south through Bombala to Cann River and then west back to Lakes Entrance.  We met up with Helmy, Doortje's sister, and had a great Greek lamb meal at the Kalimna pub, which specialises in Greek food.  We completed the trip yesterday, the Australia Day holiday, driving back in holiday traffic but early enough to miss the worst of it. 

   
   Photos all taken by Doortje, except the one in which she holds an oyster! 

Camping

   Being as it’s the summer holiday season when people like to get away, and we recently spent a few nights at Toora in Gippland, let me say a bit about camping.  It will possibly sound pedantic, and present what is undoubtedly an outmoded point of view.

   My views on camping are coloured by my earliest experiences.  The first encounter with a tent that I recall was on a trip with my parents and brothers to Normanville, south of Adelaide.  The tent was khaki canvas, of the Army type, almost a cube in shape but with a pyramid hip roof, held up with internal wooden poles and external guy ropes.  It had no floor and no zips - the vertical corners and door flaps were fastened with ties.  We may have been in a camping ground, but if so, were on the periphery away from everybody, just back from the beach with a high sandhill behind.  It was very peaceful, at the height of the Christmas holidays.

   Another adventure I recall was when John, Peter and I rode our bikes from Glengowrie to Brown Hill Creek in the Adelaide foothills and camped overnight.  The only "camping" equipment we carried (as I recall it) were a torch and a couple of waterproof army ponchos.  The latter had buttoned collars and somehow two of them could be buttoned together to make a rudimentary tent assisted by a couple of saplings and string.  The ridge was about a metre from the ground, with just enough room for two men to crawl under and stay dry.  There were no other people around; we chose a paddock near the creek to spend the night and were woken by huge cows blowing clouds of vapour and shuffling around the "tent" which only came up to their knees!

   A element essential to camping which is present in these early experiences is connection to the ground.  Perhaps not literally, as in feeling the rocks beneath a hip when trying to sleep, but at least the ability to remember later what the ground was like.  I can still recall that at Normanville the tent floor was coarse grass which produced a cloud of sand flies when disturbed.  Although we stayed in a caravan park at Toora recently, and slept on camp stretchers rather than the ground, I can easily recall the topography of the land where we banged in tent pegs, and the bare ground in the vestibule of the tent.  It seems to me that driving a motorhome from one park to the next without much to differentiate the sites, is not "camping", and stepping up onto the same patch of lino in a van at different sites takes away much of the awareness of the locality.

   Another essential element is the contrast between normal life at home and camping.  My early experiences had no "mod cons" - in fact, no electrical appliances.  The unique experience of camping is spoiled even with a radio.  Nothing would be more mundane than to be listening to the same old "breakfast" radio or talkback radio at a campsite.  Everyone is different of course, and few nowadays have had formative camping experiences like in the 1950s when radios suitable for a campsite were rare!  Live music around a campfire was  more likely the preferred entertainment.  In the 1960s many caravan parks during the summer provided just such evening entertainment.  Nowadays, every caravan seems to have a TV set and the poor sods in the tent next door have to listen as well.  Not to mention campers who need to leave the car doors open so everyone can hear music from the door speakers.

   A worthwhile experience afforded by camping is to enjoy the night sky and the noises of the bush.  Night vision is almost impossible to develop at other times.  Even with no moon, on a clear night it is possible to walk quietly in the bush and enjoy the serenity, or sit around the camp and watch the stars.  A kerosene lamp is ample light for any activity except perhaps prolonged reading which might be left until daylight hours.  This can all be completely spoiled by neighbouring campers equipped with everything that opens and shuts available from the camping chain store, including gas powered mantle lamps (which hiss loudly) or fluorescent lights without shades, illuminating a much larger area than required.  Try walking a hundred metres back to a campsite directly towards one of these lights - you'll trip over everything!

   There is much to be said for camping without a car, as in our trip to Brown Hill Creek, because equipment is necessarily limited, enhancing the contrast with normal life.  The only time I have combined hiking with camping, all gear in a backpack, was during a ten-day walk in the Flinders Ranges with a group of friends.  We didn't see any vehicle for ten days.  We had no tents and slept on the ground, usually a sandy creekbed.  The most sophisticated equipment would have been a torch.  We carried all our food and water, as well as musical instruments and reading material!  The best camping is in national parks or other public land where camping is not restricted to conventional camping areas.  Perhaps there are not many such places left, except in remote areas like we experienced in the Northern Territory.  Another advantage of northern climes is that it's often possible to predict successfully that it won't rain, making tents unnecessary and sleeping under the stars possible.

   Something I've noticed in recent years is that even remote campsites are being equipped with "ablution blocks".  Nothing wrong with a good pit dunny to save having to dig a hole, but I'm perplexed that people feel the need to have a shower when camping.  It's common now to see a huge big expensive rig drive into a campsite, the owners fiddle with chocks and blocks and drain buckets for a while, and then head off to the showers with towel draped on one shoulder, this being a priority after setting up "camp".  On the Flinders hiking trip, when we carried our drinking and cooking water, it would have been laughable to use much for washing.  It used to be that one of the pleasures of camping was not to shower but to become increasingly grotty and smelling of smoke from the campfire, and then have the much-anticipated privilege of a shower after arriving home.  Again, there is the contrast between camp life and home life. 

   In 2005, on the way from Alice Springs to Brisbane,  I drove south from Camooweal to the Caves NP on the Georgina River.  The road in was rough, with deep mud ruts and washaways, not really suitable for the Honda, but I was pleased to make the effort and really expected to see no-one else at the destination, being so remote.  However, the camp area by the river was occupied by four or five other groups, all with 4-wheel drives and off-road campervans except for one motorhome.  Mine was the only sedan and only tent (which I didn't need to erect).  There was at least one generator operating and there could have been more blending in.  Most vans had satellite TV dishes.  There was music playing and a couple of dogs barking at different times.  One van had an external electric light that burned all night to light the van steps.  In short, this was a beautiful, remote part of Australia spoiled by inappropriate "camping" of people who wanted to bring the city with them.

   Over time camping has been transformed.  A typical caravan park used to have as many unpowered tent sites as it did van sites with power.  Now many of the tent sites have been replaced with on-site vans, most with "en-suite" toilet and shower facilities that avoid the need to use the communal ones.  Most caravans now include toilet and shower for the same reason, as well as TV, air conditioning, and most electrical appliances that are used at home, including internet access devices.  The latest trends are to carry a generator in the van so that these appliances can be used always and anywhere, and to have a laundry on board to keep clothes clean.  Heaven forbid that travellers might go to a laundromat and meet people!  However, now I'm confusing touring with camping.  We used to have camping clothes that were only cleaned after the event.

   I suppose the point I try to make here is that the way to get the most out of camping is to make it contrast as much as possible with normal life at home.  This will vary for different people, times and localities.  For me it means roughing it in a remote location away from other "campers", so that a week away seems like a month, "mod cons" are left at home so they can be savoured all the more upon return, and unique memories are burnt into the brain, never to be forgotten.

   This has not turned out at all as I expected.  Maybe some revision at a later date.  Did I mention that on the Toora trip my e-reader was not left at home? Must be getting old and perverse.