Tour de France

   The last day of the financial year and last night was the opening stage of the 2013 Tour de France.

   This is an archive photo which just happens to show the Adelaide lad Stuart O'Grady in the left foreground in the dark Saxobank colours, looking after his team-mate, Fabian Cancellara, in the yellow jersey.  It's either 2009 or 2010.  These two were members of the Saxobank team in those years, and Cancellara held the leader's yellow jersey for several stages in both years.

   O'Grady is now the old man of the Australian GreenEDGE team.  He'll turn 40 in a few weeks and his appearance in this year's TdF means he now holds the record for the number of appearances by any rider.  His first TdF was in 1997.

   There are eleven Australians in this year's Tour, the sixth largest contingent and more than the Yanks, Poms and Germans.

   GreenEDGE managed to get some publicity last night by getting their bus stuck under the finish line banner with the race riders only a few kilometres away!  After embarassment and panic, they managed to clear things up before the bikes arrived at full pelt.

   Anyway, I got to bed at 1.30am, and there are another three weeks of late nights and excitement coming up!

Early School Days

   My early memories of school are scant.  I can remember the first day of school.  But I'm not sure if it was my first day, and I'm sure I could colour-in the scant memory with later details from more recent memories.

   Ridley Grove primary school in north-western Adelaide, a light-green weatherboard row of classrooms in the "infant" part of the schoolyard (the main buildings being red-brick), the long enclosed porch with external doors, louvre windows and steps, thick wire hooks on the walls inside holding bags and coats, white-painted wooden hopper windows and an internal door to each classroom.

   Standing in the doorway of the end room, with the teacher and my mother exchanging a few polite words, the release of hands and then whisked away into the room and Mum gone.

   Such a minute scrap of memory which could easily be wrong!  Because I remember so little else, I suspect that I could easily be translating this memory from the day Peter began school, or Lester, or Alan; it could easily be that I was an external witness to this moment, being with my Mum and younger brother before going off to my own classroom, when I was seven or older.  If one of the boys had a hard time on their first day, I might have been empathetic, and the memory imprinted.  Or, one could argue that I remember the scrap because of my personal first-day trauma, but if this is the case, I have no recollection of the trauma!

    All I can truly say is that I remember the doorway inside the porch, Mum being there, and the transfer of child from Mum to teacher.

(click on photos to enlarge)

   This is the main entrance to Ridley Grove Primary School.

   I do have solid memories of school from Grade Two, or when I was about seven.  I remember the classroom had a concertina wall which could be opened and the adjoining classes combined.  I suspect I remember this because it meant fun.  Whenever it happened, and the two classes came together, routine was discarded; a piano might be involved and sometimes hand puppets or figures on felt boards - at any rate, we were entertained, and if required to participate, participation involved singing or jumping around.

I believe this was taken in about 1952 when I was seven.

 

   Independently of the concertina wall, for a while we had two teachers.  I think now that one was probably a student teacher with us for a few weeks;  my memory has the two teachers generating a lot of fun and lively goings-on, so they must have worked well together.  It could just be that when one teacher flagged, the other took over, so that we were kept on our toes!

School and I got on well together.  I never stood out from the class except for good reasons, for example, getting things "right".  But about this time I did have a traumatic experience that's never left me.  When I was about seven, I became sick and spent time away from school, possibly a week but it couldn't have been much more, with mumps or chicken pox.  When I returned to school I had overwhelming feelings that everyone had moved on to new things; while I was away the class might have learnt a foreign language for all I knew what was happening.  My memory is of asking to go to the toilet, standing in the concrete block facing the grey wall of the urinal, and then bursting into tears.  It's likely that someone had to come and get me to resolve the situation but I'm reasonably sure I was OK again in 24 hours!  Fancy being seven!

   There's a gap between then and the next things I can be sure of.  In Grade Four, aged about nine, during a history lesson with Mr Howell I was appointed "monitor".  This meant that I stood out in front of the class, who all had history books open to the same page of an heroic tale involving the British Empire.  My job was to direct a student to read aloud a paragraph of the story, at the end of which they would sit and I would choose someone else to stand and read the next paragraph. (Mr Howell, seated at his desk, was probably marking spelling tests or something similar).  At a certain point, when I may have called on a slow reader, I became completely engrossed in the story, reading several paragraphs ahead and forgetting my job.  The class soon began to realise the situation, their catcalls and jeers attracted the attention of Mr Howell and I was dismissed as "monitor", presumably with a red face!

   Something I've never seen since leaving Ridley Grove is the scale of the dustbowl in the playground that was the "alley ring".  Marbles or "allies" required a few square metres in the dirt with a circle and a baulk line, a bit like hopscotch in area, but there could be literally dozens of games happening simultaneously.  Beside the green of the oval, used at recess time for french cricket (summer) and footy end-to-end (winter), was a vast expanse of bare ground, scraped clean by use of the playground equipment (there was no soft-fall) and the alley ring as big as a tennis court.  At recess time, kids raced out to get the best places and then shuffled around avoiding eye contact with the bullies while the pecking order was re-established, deciding who could play where.  I can remember the scene more than the detail of playing so I was obviously not an expert.  An expert could fire his marble from the baulk line into the ring, hit an opponent and go on to "skin" the ring.  Playing against an expert was like gambling - start with a bag of marbles and try to hold on as long as possible before losing the last one. 

    A landmark which took place in Grade Four was the conversion from writing with pencil to writing with pen and ink.  Many old blokes of similar vintage have written about the pens and nibs, the inkwells in desks and the ink monitors who mixed up the ink powder and distributed it daily to the inkwells.  But I don't recall anyone writing about being left-handed.   I could get away with being left-handed while using a pencil but not with pen and ink.

   Our writing system is designed for a right-handed person.  A right-handed person writes with the pencil point or pen nib pointing roughly towards the top left-hand corner of the page, and with the slope of the letters, drags or pulls the tip to the right and from bottom left to upper right.  With my left hand hooked around like a claw and the pen facing the bottom right corner of the page, I could move from bottom left to upper right and emulate the correct slope of the letters, but I was pushing the pen to the right and unavoidably digging holes in the paper as the ink softened it, and then using my hand to smudge what I had just written before it had any hope of drying!

   When you consider that we had writing lessons daily for several years during primary school, you'll understand that the progression from pencil to pen and ink was a serious matter; I had no hope of satisfactorily mastering the transition.  Over time I learnt not to dig into the paper, and to keep my hand and arm off the fresh lettering.  If my memory is good, ballpoint pens, or biros, were introduced into the school not long before I was ready to leave, and either biros or leaving solved the whole problem.

   Generally speaking, I liked school, fitted in and had little trouble with the the work, which got easier as I got older.

 

********

Goldfields

   During last week we took the new car for a run to the Victorian goldfields.  We took advantage of a winter special on Wotif and stayed for three nights in a cottage at Hepburn Springs.  On the drive up, we turned off the highway at Myrniong and had lunch at the bakery at Trentham, famous for its wood-fired Scotch oven and sourdough bread.

(click on photos to enlarge)

   Here's the cottage at Hepburn Springs.  It was a good size but the heater had trouble coping and there was no wood for the fire.  Otherwise a pleasant stay.

   After brunch the next morning, we headed off to Hanging Rock to see the setting of Joan Lindsay's novel.

   The volcanic formations did create an eerie feel to the place, and the walks were a bit steep, but we managed to get up close.  Then we had a beaut lunch at the cafe and trundled off to the nearby winery to get souvenirs.  We also bought a DVD of Picnic at Hanging Rock and watched it back at the cottage. 

   Next day we visited some of the early goldfields towns.  This is the main street of Clunes.  We had lunch in the pub on the left.

   The earliest gold mining in Victoria was apparently begun at Clunes in 1851 near this site, where the old diggings can be seen.

 

   We took a lot of photos of old main streets.  This one is in Talbot where there is an original shopfront with "Ironmonger and Tinsmith" still on it.

   Here's the main street of Maldon, still with old verandah posts but spoilt a bit by modern cars.

   Doortje can be seen in the doorway of this old place in Maldon.  The verandah roof was a bit skew-whiff, so she was probably taking a risk (but the shop was selling chocolate)!

   I was impressed by the wrought iron on the front of the pub, which I imagine dates from the gold-mining times.

   We also visited the woollen mill at Creswick, and saw the carding machines in action - a bit bigger than my little hand-operated one!

   On our way home we stopped in Bacchus Marsh and at the library they told us about this building, which features as the home of Catchprice Motors in Peter Carey's The Tax Inspector.  Carey spent his early years there when his father had Carey Motors, and I assume the family lived upstairs.

   We had an enjoyable three days, the weather was kind, and the car was a pleasure to drive.

New Wheels

In this 60th anniversary of Volkswagen in Australia, it was appropriate to go for a cruise in one.

No.  Boring.  Start again...

Doortje and I took delivery of our new car today.  It's a Skoda and we're very pleased with it. (click on photos to enlarge)

 Woops! It's not a Skoda Felicia, it's a Skoda Octavia;  ours has a roof.

 And it's not this 1963 Octavia, fifty years old this year.  But it is red!

 Here's the new beast in front of our place.  It was built in 2007 but was compliance-plated in 2009, don't ask me why.  It has a Skoda body and interior built on the VW Golf/Jetta/Audi "platform" and has a 2 litre VW turbo-diesel motor and 6-speed DSG gearbox.  It's done 59,000km.

 The Skoda sedan looks like a sedan but has a huge hatch opening and lots of storage space.  This is the "bells and whistles" Elegance model with everything electric, cruise control, etc.  The wipers are rain-sensitive and the headlights light-sensitive.  Or you can operate them manually!  Oh, and like all the other VWs I've had, the indicator stalk is on the left.  I tried to indicate a left hand turn today with the windscreen wipers, but only once.

 Doortje wants me to mention that it's "corrida red", corrida being Spanish for running, as in corrida de toros, running the bulls = bullfight.  (The Honda has been relegated to the outside weather until it finds a new home).

Our car has two connections to the world of international cycling.  Red Octavias are always used by the race officials in the big stage races like the tour de France and the giro d'Italia (which is on at the moment); and Barloworld VW, where we bought our car, were sponsors of a pro tour team until a few years back, competing in two French tours.

I could bore you silly with lots of detail but one snippet will do.  When we picked the car up the trip computer said we had 1,000km until fuel should be added.  When we got home, 30km later, it said we had 1,060km left, and that's after stop-start driving down Nepean Highway.

Anyway, I think we'll be doing lots more driving in the coming months on our new wheels, and let's hope it's all safe with no mishaps.

Gariwerd

   In the last week, Doortje and I spent four nights at Gariwerd (aka the Grampians) in western Victoria.  Our accommodation was at the Pinnacle Holiday Lodge right in the heart of Hall's Gap.  

(click on pictures to enlarge them)

 

   Our unit was behind the hedge in front of the car,  so only a few metres from the heated indoor pool which Doortje used every day, and three cafe/restaurants which we also used regularly were in the block to the left.  The setting was very beautiful with the mountains in two directions and lots of bush and big trees.  There were umpteen kangaroos on every patch of green when we arrived, including in front of the unit.

   On Tuesday morning we started the day with breakfast at the Livefast cafe, a few metres from our unit.  The ingredients were all top drawer organic including sourdough toast.

   The weather was not great but we headed optimistically out of town and up the Mt Difficult road to Boroka Lookout.  Visibility was almost nil because of the low cloud but at least it was not raining.

   We back-tracked and went south on the Silverband Road to the Lakeview Lookout which was lower down and below the cloud.  There was a great view of Hall's Gap to the north-east and Lake Bellfield to the south-east.

The walk to the lookout included some great bush and rocky formations like this one.  While we were driving up the hills the car engine got a bit hot and our plans for the day were disrupted (or would have been if we had real plans); we headed back to Hall's Gap and then on to Stawell to get a new radiator cap.  Doortje was not too pooped when we got back to have a swim (but I was!).

   On Wednesday, the weather was again ordinary; we decided to follow the range south from Hall's Gap, cut through the hills into the Victoria Valley and then drive down to Dunkeld.  The road through the valley was quiet and there were massive gums in the paddocks and lining the roads.

 

   We were impressed by these two houses in Dunkeld.  The architect has even replicated the concept of the addition tacked onto the back with skillion roof.  We had lunch in a cafe nearby and avoided most of the rain.

   Back in Hall's Gap we visited Brambuk, the Aboriginal cultural centre.  The building and its contents have won several awards and we could easily relate to a lot of the displays.  The building represents Gariwerd, the cockatoo - the wings and tail are obvious.

   On Thursday, the weather improved and we tried again to visit lookouts.   This photo is taken from Reed Lookout, only a few metres from the car park, looking south-west into the Victoria Valley.  There were also views to the east, so this is a high point.

   Further on, we next went on the 2km walk to the Mackenzie Falls lookout, where the view was spectacular.  There were steps all the way to the bottom but we declined the opportunity, content to enjoy the vistas from the top.

   Walking back to the car park we passed through beautiful country with dappled light through the trees illuminating the young xanthorrhoea leaves.  The tree trunks were black from a fire which had probably also germinated the xanthorrhoea seeds.

   We headed north from Mackenzie Falls on the Horsham road, through Wartook and Laharum, and turned off onto Plantation Road to visit Ngamadjidj, the home of these rock paintings, which we were impressed by.  It turned out that the "plantation" referred to was the oldest olive grove in Victoria, with trees planted in 1943.  We visited Toscana Olives and, being the only visitors, were treated royally with tastings and coffee by a young bloke who was very friendly.  Needless to say we bought a heap of olive products.

   Back south to Wartook and then we took the Rose's Gap Road east through the Mt Difficult Range.  This was a beautiful drive with no other traffic.  When we got to Rose's Gap we turned south on the road which follows the range back to Hall's Gap.  The sign said "Gravel road. Next 10kms" which we thought was OK.  After 12km, without a break in the gravel, another sign said "Gravel road. Next 10kms".  We didn't think this was OK!  Sucked in!  Of course it bucketed down with rain and it was a bit nervy, and mud splashed all over the car.

   Back in Hall's Gap we checked out the pub, and the barman told us about the Mt Langi Ghiran winery just out of town, so we went to look.  There were not only kangaroos, but also emus, among the vines!  Again, we had the place to ourselves and had a nice chat, tasted some shiraz, and devoured a plate of goat cheese, olives, dukkah, etc, for a (very) late lunch.  We bought some very nice 2008 (a dry year) shiraz, grapes from the paddock out in front of us.  The shiraz from there was "The Gap". 

   Here we are in the afterglow of a much-needed feed and some nice red wine.  Thursday was a beaut day with much to remember.

   On Friday morning, all too soon it was time to depart.  The kangaroos were still enjoying the green pick and the weather at last was less intense.  We were extremely lucky in the things we could do, given the weather, but as any Victorian might tell you, if you put off doing something because of the weather you'll never do anything!  And I'll add - when you do do it, you'll have the place to yourself!!

Carrera Cruise

   In this 50th anniversary of the birth of the Porsche 911, it was appropriate to go for a cruise in one.

Dong!  Boring!  Start again!  OK...

   Wowsers!!! and wowsers again!!!  What an experience!

   Doortje and I have been planning this trip since our kids (and their families) gave me 24 hours with a Porsche as a birthday present back in March.  We've had a lot of fun anticipating the experience and working out what to do to maximise it.  (I even went so far as, once we'd decided on an itinerary, to prepare a 66-page PDF document with google maps and directions to put on my darling navigator's tablet computer, so that the trip would be hassle-free.  We weren't sure if a Melways directory would fit in a Porsche!).  We decided to drive on roads we were unfamiliar with and roads that offered some challenge.

   Yesterday afternoon at 1.30pm, we started the trip at Richmond, the home of Sports Car Rentals,  when we picked up a shiny black Porsche 911 Carrera S, a 2005 model otherwise known as a 997, valued at $240,000 when it was new and now about $120,000.  We headed north out of the city to Whittlesea, on the edge of suburbia.  There were a few "nice" moments in the suburban traffic when the wannabes in their white tradie utes wanted to take us on.  I was only tempted once, when I needed to merge right from a lane that was ending...(the throttle is slow to respond, possibly to avoid tailending the car in front (!) but when you hit the sweet spot, it goes!)

   From Whittlesea, we went to Kinglake West and then followed the winding roads through the hills to Flowerdale and the village of Strath Creek, and west on to Broadford, the sort of route that motorbike enthusiasts probably take on Sundays except we had no traffic to speak of.  From Broadford we went north-west on the Sugarloaf Creek road and ended up in Seymour.  The weather had been great but then it rained in the late afternoon so we had no photo stops.  The last leg was on the Goulburn Valley highway and we stopped at a motel in Nagambie.

   Here's Doortje's photo (with cloud and sky) of the beast at the motel with Lake Nagambie in the background.

   Meanwhile I'm wondering if we'll get it fast enough to activate the automatic spoiler.  A Carrera S has the larger motor, 3.8 litre flat-six with lots of oomph, so no reason why not!

   Next morning (today!) and ready to head off again.  Doortje is holding flowers to celebrate our 42nd wedding anniversary (also today!!).

   Meanwhile, I'm loading our luggage into the boot, a space slightly larger than the spare wheel well in a VW beetle.  (I have no idea if the Porsche had a spare wheel or where it might be!).

   A quick stop at the Nagambie post office shows either that Doortje has grown or the Porsche is not that big.  In fact, we were both delighted with the size of the car.  It really is a sports car, still sharing DNA with cars like the Triumph TR3 (the last sports car I was in back in 1963 - the year of the first Porsche 911!! Spooky!)

   Did someone mention "black"?  On the outskirts of Nagambie, this is one of the entrances to Gilgai Farm, the birthplace of Black Caviar, recently famous for her 25th win on the trot (but unlike Porsche, she never won at Le Mans).

   From Nagambie, we drove to Heathcote, 53km of good but unused road.  Nice bush, sweeping bends, undulations, crests, and good driving.  The low profile tyres plus sports car suspension meant the handling was harsh and heavy at low speeds but a revelation at higher speeds.  A bend signposted at 70kmph, which I might take at 85kmph in the Honda, could be driven comfortably at 100kmph in the Porsche - no deviation, no body roll, just the feeling of side forces, all contained by shaped leather seats.

   This is the driver's view of life in a 911 Carrera S.  The info says I was in 5th gear auto (as opposed to Tiptronic manual, paddle changes on the steering wheel), 2000rpm, 81kmph, 10.6 litres per 100km and 106km until empty.  Shortly after this photo, we got to 166kmph and only noticed the difference because the road wasn't smooth!  (No, I wasn't still holding the camera!)

   It drinks a bit more fuel than the Honda!  In Heathcote we put in 40 litres of premium unleaded ($1.55 or 11c more than standard) which I reckon is about the amount we used on the trip.

   From Heathcote, we drove through Mia Mia, Redesdale and Kyneton, and then via Cobb and Co Road to Woodend where we had brunch.

   There were lots of nice vibes associated with our wedding anniversary, including the tulips.  Meanwhile, 24 hours wasn't long enough to work out how to get my left knee past the steering wheel when entering.  The seat adjustments were almost infinite but maybe the steering wheel adjusted too?

 

   From Woodend, we took back roads to Mt Macedon, the Macedon town, Riddell's Creek and Sunbury.  Opportunities to try out the car still came with overtaking manoeuvres.  I was surprised to find that my maximum speed after overtaking was much less than in the Honda because the acceleration was hugely better; in fact it was great fun, the things that could be done legally!

   All too soon we were on the Tulla freeway and into the city.  Here we are back in Green St with a clean bill of health for the car (phew!) and an anniversary photo to boot.

   The trip to Nagambie was 167km, the trip back 215km; we didn't make one navigational error (although the Porsche response was tested when I switched lanes in Hoddle St avoiding a concrete lane divider at the last second) and the whole trip was a huge buzz.

   Thanks to Jac, Daniel, Andrew and Helmy, their partners and kids, for their generosity and great insight (with no input from me) into what Dad would like.  Wouldn't be dead for quids!!

   My final assessment of the car for what it's worth.  To be honest, I don't have a lot to compare it with, which is why I mentioned Pete Elsegood's Triumph TR3 from 1963.  The ride is incredibly harsh and the tyres offer no suspension at all, but despite this it sticks to the road like glue and there is absolutely no body movement in relation to the chassis.  A Ford Falcon will feel softer but the movement of the driver (up, sideways, fore and aft) will be much greater on undulating bitumen.  In the meantime, this is a little car, with huge power and great fat tyres and provides great amounts of fun.  The DNA of the 1963 Porsche 911 can't have been much different.

An Eventful Trip

Went to Bairnsdale on Friday for Jumbo Pierce's funeral.  Jumbo was a friend from our Bairnsdale days, husband of Marion who was one of Doortje's work mates and still a close friend.  The funeral and wake went a lot longer than we imagined and it was after dark when we left Bairnsdale, after deciding we'd spend the night in Sale on our way home.

We were almost to Stratford when a truck coming in the opposite direction dropped a couple of star pickets on the road and one of them got caught under our car.  As it was dark, we didn't know what was happening. Except that I saw sparks on the middle of the road as the star picket bounced along.

The steel post, about 1.5m long, was thrown up into the left hand front wheel arch, where it gouged a 30cm gash in the tyre and wrecked the mudguard panel.  It made a tremendous noise as one end dragged along the road.

We were travelling at 100kmph and it took some effort to control the car and pull up on the side of the road.  We found that the star picket was bent ninety degrees and jammed under the car, with one end on the ground and the other into the front of the wheel arch.

It turned out that the vehicle in front of us had also been hit, in the grille and headlight, probably by another post, the one I saw sparking along the road.  Anyway, that driver stopped too, unsure what had happened, and very surprised at our damage.  He helped us jack up the car, remove the tangled picket and change the wheel.

Amazingly, there seemed to be no damage to any structures under the car, and it could be driven normally!  The axle, torsion arms, suspension, sump, etc, were completely untouched and we were able to proceed to Sale.

Thanks to Charles of Gippsland Amusements in Morwell, who stayed to help us get back on the road, and get over the shock of it all.  We're so glad that we are still alive!