A Reunion in Canberra

Forty years ago this March I was wandering around the streets of Melbourne, a little dazed and over-awed, waiting for the Bureau of Meteorology Head Office to open its front door so they would let me in and I could start being a meteorologist. I met a guy called Terry Ryan who was also that way inclined. We were the first there. A year later out stepped 26 of the finest meteorologists that ever drew... isobars (well we think so anyway). Something gelled between us and we kept in touch over the years and have had several reunions. I’m not aware of any other courses within the Bureau that have done this. One day we’ll understand why.

Clem Davis was the mover and shaker for this reunion. Fourteen of the old originals showed up, and with partners there were 29 attendees all up. Maurs and I and Gary Bot (the Legend) and Ros Bot stayed as Clem’s guests at his place. Clem’s planning was based on Sir John Monash’s tactics (Clem is now a guide at the Australian War Memorial and Sir John is one of his heroes) so it was complex, considered, and timed to the minute. A pizza night at Mary and Brian’s place, Parliament House Tour, War Memorial Tour, Saturday Night Dinner, and lunch at Elly and Howard’s Vineyard (Kingsdale Wines) outside of Goulburn on Sunday. The pace was hectic!

                                            The Met Course of 1972 in Canberra 40 years on

Some salient points: None of us had died! I thought that was an important point and was immediately branded as “macabre” for saying it. I watched a few people totter a bit over the weekend but my statement remained intact for the entire reunion. Also, a lot of the women there still work! Most of the lads have finished up to pursue a career in golf; however the women are still earning their keep in some form or other (I haven’t pointed that out too closely to Maurs – much! Well, I am still alive like I said before, aren’t I?) The high point of the reunion was definitely the free flowing poem penned by Clem for the occasion. It would have done McGonagall proud and included every member of the course. We’re all hoping for a written copy soon. And, except for isolated cases, the last thing we talked about was the weather!

So are we reunioned out? There was talk of a 45^th anniversary meeting in Tasmania. Hope there’s no deaths.

A bit of disturbing news from this part of the world. Watching local TV I noted with disappointment that they do in fact call Wagga Wagga Wagga in these parts (it’s just not right)! We are definitely bypassing Pura Pura, Bong Bong, and Gin Gin on our way north – I couldn’t stand the trauma.

                                                 Baileys Winery outside of Glenrowan

Two highlights coming back to Melbourne. One was relocating Baileys of Glenrowan – a place where we had discovered a very nice red many years ago. We tossed a couple of bottles into the X-Trail for good measure. The second was stumbling onto the Long Track Pantry at Jugiong. We just pulled off the Hume Highway when we felt hungry and this place ticked all the boxes. It was great food. Oh, it’s so good to find treasure in obscure places.

                                                    Good tucker in a tiny town (Jugiong)

We’re back in Melbourne now until after Easter. The vehicle has a 10,000km service booked and we need a break from driving for a while. We got the highway blues.

Heading for the Nation's Capital (no not Tumut)

With Maurs recovering slowly from her back injury we set off gingerly for Canberra to attend the 40^th anniversary reunion of Meteorologist Course No. 22. It just seems like yesterday I took off from Brisbane to start my post-grad year (but then my memory has never been good). We gravitated to Beechworth for the first night – we just love that little town for some reason and always enjoy our stay there.

Today we made for Tumut through the backblocks of the Snowy Mountains – just a magnificent drive and I must say, made all the more enjoyable (as the whole trip has been) because of the music selection that Roland gave me. Thanks man. We still haven’t been through all of the mp3’s yet but we’re getting there. We stopped at Corryong for a snack and drink and a perve on the locals. An old stager hobbled down the street and everybody greeted him “Hello George!” I thought “In some chic place he’d be a celebrity – but here he is in Corryong – he must be that one classification lower – an identity.” I’m not sure what the classification system is – what’s the next step down from identity? Help me out if you know. We moved on, taking care not to run down the old identity as we left.

We went through Batlow – famous for its apples, and we searched for a roadside stall in order to procure some. It was looking like “Is NSW also closed?” Perhaps Australia is closed and we haven’t got the email yet. Luckily a stall appeared and it was definitely worth searching for. Recently picked (like yesterday) and superb. Tumut is a typical little country town and we are in a further typical little country motel right now.

                     Yet another F@#& Off - We're Shut sign (getting used to them by now)

We did some locivore eating at the restaurant we found tonight – local trout and beef – and Riverina Shiraz – the trout and beef were very nice, but Maurs switched to a local cider (from Batlow as it happens) – sorry Riverina.

I’ll tell you what happens at the Reunion in a few days time when I recover.

A Rough Landing in Melbourne

Our drive into Melbourne was rather an anticlimax – we merely set the SatNav to West Footscray and in we came. Just one stop at one of those sprawling Service Centres on the highway for coffee and after that we didn’t really notice that we were on Footscray’s hammer. Justin was working from home that day and with his help we manoeuvred the camper up the side of the house, gutted it of what we required for “city” living and closed it down for a well-earned rest. Great to reunite with the family – Donna dropped by and Renee finally finished work and we went for a great Pho (Vietnamese soup) down the road. We have yet to find anything near as good as that in Perth. Even Dexter the dog told us he forgave us for leaving him last year (because he knows what’s good for him) – spoilt little piglet dog that he is. He conned a walk to his favourite park almost immediately and that was good because there’s some really nice graffiti around the place. There’s been a new piece developed since our last visit and pretty impressive it is too. Google “Vaughn Bode” (yes I spelled it right) if you have a spare moment. Interesting guy and long time dead (1975). Dexter must think highly of it too as he hasn’t cocked his leg onto Vaughn, unlike every other skerrick of real estate in the park – although he’s a bit like El Nino by the end – no substantial falls possible.

                                                  Vaughn Frederic Bode (1941-1975)

However our Melbourne foray all turned sour when, on Sunday morning, Maurs went to put some garbage in the recycling bin. I thought she was gone a while – it transpired that she badly pulled a muscle in her back while dealing with a sheet of cardboard. She slowly made her way back inside – told me what she had done – to which I replied “Hang on that’s MY job!” (actually I haven’t done my back in for a good while now). I knew what to do – put her to bed, sedated her, hoped for the best. That afternoon she could not get off the bed. I got a chair and placed it next to her bed. “What’s that going to do? I can’t move!” she said through her teeth. I placed the chair back in the dining room. More sedation – this time for me. She remained immobile for quite a while and just had to take it easy for several days. She went to an Osteo on the Wednesday and was at least walking for short periods. And that my dear Melbourne friends, is why we have not made contact as yet. It’s her fault!

Tapas in Apollo Bay - Ole!

We did the tour of what’s interesting in Apollo Bay today which meant we had to go elsewhere. Lots of winding roads through mountains and rainforest – all quite interesting – and we stopped at Kennett’s River to play “Spot the Koala”. This is where you drive up a dirt road for a few kilometres, stop the car almost arbitrarily, get out and then crane your neck skywards in the hope of observing our native fauna in the wild – there actually were a number of them doing nothing much up gum trees- swaying mostly, in the fresh southerly breezes - but you have to get your eye in to see them. Maurs also reacquainted herself with fungi and couldn’t resist taking a few shots of the Victorian cousins (shades of the Bibbulmun).

                                                     The first fungi shot of the tour!

You see bumper stickers with a map of Australia and the text “F@#& Off - We’re Full!” as a reaction to boat people entering the country illegally but in Victoria it’s more like “F@#& Off - We’re Closed!” Everywhere we went today we encountered the inevitable “Closed” sign – breweries, berry farms, wineries, olive farms...all remote and all closed. It seems like these astute business people are only open for summer and Victoria wasn’t blessed with one this year, so like funnel web spiders they kept their traps shut and allowed their prey to pass by. We eventually found food in Lorne and then we zigzagged along the coast road from Lorne back to “The Bay” – it was a wild ocean indeed to the starboard side as we ventured back - no summer today either.

                                                         Just one of a string of  closed signs

It’s our last night on the road for a while so we thought we would try a little Tapas Bar that we noticed the day before, called “Chill”. We fronted up – there was only one other couple there – and we settled in to a really good glass of Sangria – we ordered a few tapas, which was lucky as the place then erupted with an invasion of older people whom we suspect were too well dressed to be caravaners but who might have been on a bus tour of some sort. Unfortunately there was no concept of tapas amongst them and all had to be explained. They ordered one bottle of wine among eight and somehow it lasted the meal (most unlike any eight of our friends at one sitting!) The Chill Bar did good business tonight and rightly so; the food was excellent and the service great. Ole!

Onwards to Melbourne.

Poised to invade Melbourne any day

Now I know what happens to old caravans. They pack them up and send them to the Apollo Bay Caravan Park where they attach them to big pieces of ply board and call them holiday units! There’s a whole ghetto of them here!  I’ll have to get a snap shot for prosperity. I’m sure they’ll be heritage listed one day.

                                                   Old Caravan Graveyard, Apollo Bay

We’ve come a long way since the last blog. We stayed at Hahndorf for two days and soaked in the German atmosphere (perhaps it’s all that German sausage that creates the atmosphere) but it was great. The van park was no great shakes but it did the job for us. We then drove down to Robe and on the next day to Mount Gambier.  We stayed near the Blue Lake and took in those sort of sights. I hadn’t been to the Gambier since 1971 when Petar Nikolic and I toured there. They didn’t quite know why the Blue Lake was so blue then (theories abounded) and after 41 years of extensive research they still don’t seem to know. Certainly no explanations were forthcoming around the place. It’s still spectacular though.

                                                     A quiet afternoon in Hahndorf

                                                   Maureen in Robe (couldn't help it!)

                                                Maureen at the Blue Lake Mount Gambier

After Gambier we set off for Warrnambool Victoria and on the way there we stopped off to see the Princess Margaret Rose Cave near Nelson (just on a whim – it looked interesting). It’s only a small cave compared to some but it has some fantastic formations and is really worth a visit. The whole area begs further exploration – camping there for a week would do it. There was a story there about the small daughter of the guy who found the cave writing to Buckingham Palace in 1940 asking if it was all right to name the cave after the little Princess Margaret. When you think about it, 1940 was in England’s darkest hours - bombs raining down from the blitz – defeat after defeat from the Germans - mayhem everywhere – and some palace official having to sit down and consider a serious reply as to the naming of a cave. “Can you give me two ticks on the Balkans crisis old boy, I just have to finish orf this letter to Australia.”

                                                  Princess Margaret Rose Cave formations

At Warrnambool we caught up with Jodie and Chris who have given up the Perth lifestyle for the “Bool”. It was good to chat and share a glass of wine. They have an impressive vegie patch and chooks and we scored 6 eggs from the girls and some tomatoes as well. Scrambled eggs the next morning were distinctly the deep yellow colour of contented hens. So good.

Next came the Great Ocean Road experience and we dutifully turned off at every brown sign with all the other campers to check out the Bay of Islands and London Bridge and the Twelve Apostles of course. It sure is a beautiful seascape through there. One place we visited, I renamed the Cliff of Dead Caps as on the leeward side of the viewing platform was an array of caps and hats that from their owners’ heads were “untimely plucked” by the capricious winds off the Southern Ocean. I can imagine much gnashing of dentures from some poor old coots whose favourite chapeaux were now lying within sight but, what with arthritis and artificial hips could never be retrieved.

                                                      The Thirteen Apostles? Perhaps?

                                                        One more shot of the PMR Cave