Montreal and the Conference

We flew Porter Airlines from Halifax to Montreal. Very impressive little airline –the aircraft only had two propellers but they’re a lot of fun. Highlight was watching two young guys working their way through five beers each on a one hour forty minute flight – and then proceeded to turn around and chat up two young ladies in the seat behind. I’m sure they appeared irresistible to these girls.

                               Maurs and Patty with "The Gossips" - street art Montreal style

Montreal was warm and we walked and walked all over the old town in the morning and because it was going to be even hotter the next day, we walked up through Mont Royal in the afternoon. I came back nursing two blisters – a penalty for inappropriate footwear – but a small price to pay. It’s staggering to walk among houses that were built before Cook discovered Australia, although after listening to our tour guide who showed us around Vieux Montreal every building burned down at some stage and got rebuilt. You might have heard about the student riots in Montreal? Well you’ll have to fill us in when we get back because we saw no sign of them in spite of walking all over the city for a whole weekend.

                                      Gus and Patty outside the Basilica in Vieux Montreal

One thing we did notice was the number of young guys begging on the street (panhandlers as Jim calls them), just sitting on the sidewalk rattling paper cups. We overheard one panhandler telling a passer-by that if he thought he had a bad day it wasn’t as bad a day as the one that he had. Very loudly, he was outraged that “some (expletive) person spat in my (expletive) face, man!” I thought, it’s almost enough to make you want to give up begging! Another guy placed his cup right in the centre of the sidewalk and Maurs nearly kicked a field goal with it (she only just missed it). Maybe you have to put extra coins in the cup if you do kick it – I’m not sure what the penalties are in this town.

We reunited with our friend Jim and drove up to this conference at Mont Gabriel – a ski resort (now snowless) about 60 km outside of Montreal. It was good to catch up with colleagues that we had met over the years and we spent a number of nights crammed into Jim’s room drinking scotch and acquainting the younger students with the perils of extratropical transition. The conference was rather isolated but Jim and Maurs and I skipped class (we’re old enough to do this now) and visited a couple of the local towns for shopping (mostly scotch and beer) and meals. A highlight was Mont Tremblant which is a quaint little town whose income resolves around skiing and a casino. Must be fabulous in winter-time.

Gus and Jim explore Mont Tremblant

                                    Beer's here! Let the conference begin! (Jim, Pat and Liz)

The hotel may be isolated but it does have its own groundhog and Maurs has photographic evidence of course. I’ve got to check our bag to ensure she doesn’t smuggle one back.

                         Could be the next cane toad plague for Aus! The hotel Woodchuck

NYC Part1 and Halifax

Gotta say I was not looking forward to going through Tom Bradley Terminal in LA but we were pleasantly surprised by the efficiency and lack of hassle this time around. Onwards to JFK New York and a taxi ride into the Wall Street area. Driver was originally from the Punjab who had been in NYC for 22 years but we still had trouble understanding him at times. Our hotel was good and a welcome sight after the trip. We found a pub on Wall Street for dinner and we didn’t need rocking to get to sleep.

Next day we got out early and walked to nearby Battery Park – the first photo Maurs took in the Big Apple? Statue of Liberty? Skyscrapers? Any NYC icons? No. A squirrel in the park. We walked the south end up to Greenwich Village and back down Broadway on a really pleasant day with lots of the locals grabbing some rays after a few days of rain previously (so we were told).

                                                        One NYC squirrel over easy

Sunday meant a car ride to Newark Airport in New Jersey to catch a flight to Halifax Canada to meet our friends Jim and Andra. NJ is highly industrial – the airport also fairly efficient - and the trip to Nova Scotia very pleasant. One small incident occurred upon meeting Jim at the airport. It was Mother’s Day and there was a lady there handing out little chocolate treats (and not just to mothers – Jim and I got one too!) We were so excited that when we got to the car I noticed one item of baggage –our cabin bag - was not with us. “I must have left it in the airport while we were taking chocolate onboard. If this was Australia it would now be on the tarmac with a robot tank blowing it up”, I said. “This is Nova Scotia” said Jim and sure enough our bag was happily sitting out in the middle of nowhere waiting for us.

                                              Jim, Andra and Maurs at Peggys Cove, NS

Halifax is a beautiful little town. Jim and Andra drove us out to Peggy’s Cove which is an iconic piece of Nova Scotia, made all the more famous by our friend Barry Hanstrum years before when he chose to show his fluency in the French language, resulting in a large eruption of laughter from Jim’s French buddies. On the way home we picked up several HUGE local lobsters (still alive but tethered) and a mess of mussels. I started calling them “Lefty” and “One-armed Pete” and Andra said “Don’t name them! We’re going to throw them in a pot of boiling water in an hour!” She was right. It was sad saying goodbye to Lefty. (They were spectacularly good by the way).

                                                             Sorry about this Lefty

After dinner (or supper as they have in Canada) we went down to a local pub called the Lower Deck and drank some beer and watched a cover band called Signal Hill who were excellent. Someone flashed us and asked if he could use the photo on their website. Consequently we found ourselves on their website, looking like stunned halibut. One might assume it was alcohol but it was jet lag making us look like that, honestly. It was a big day.

Jim had some time off and took us to see the sights including Lunenburg and Mahone Bay and a tour of Nova Scotian vineyards. Interesting cold country wines were had.

                                                              Lunenburg scene

We had a great time with the Abrahams but it all turned sour when they discovered we had been to Tim Hortons for coffee and they made us leave. Tim Hortons is something of a national institution – stores on every corner and hugely popular, but the coffee is ordinary and distained in Abraham-land. We had to go once though.

Next stop – Montreal!

Brisbane and Mooloolaba

The only trouble with semi-retirement is that occasionally you actually have to do some work and unfortunately it has come down to this. My first week in Brisbane was spent in and out of various Weather Bureau buildings desperately seeking old cyclone data that no one really knew where it was or if it still existed. I found the archive on Day 2 and then I set Maurs loose on it. Now that she knows what she’s looking for she’s absolutely relentless and she hung on like a truffle hound under an oak tree in finding some obscure gems in the data that I would have surely by-passed. Since then I have been slaving away up at my brother Thomas’ apartment in Mooloolaba (north of Brisbane on the Sunshine when it’s not raining Coast) trying to process the data and write the report. It really hits on play-time. Gee I’ll be glad when I’m retired!

               (Family snap - Mal and Roy; Marg and Tom; Me - Maurs behind the camera)

While in Brisbane we stayed at our favourite Kirribilly Apartments on the river and made full use of the ferry service to get around. We even got ourselves a Senior’s Go Card for cheap travel. That was a bonus but I must admit that I was a bit disconsolate when the travel inspectors got on one afternoon to check for fare evaders. A guy in front had a student concession ticket and the inspector asked him for ID to prove he was a student. I got my ID out - handed him my ticket – he took one look at me and just walked away. Would it have killed him to just politely ask to see my proof of age? Thanks a lot!

And I can't resist providing a snap of Cocky Foley. The old bird is just shy of 57 by our reckoning and doesn't look a day over 20! (I was never good at guessing the ages of birds). He has terrorised our family as much as we terrorised him in our younger days. He now lives with Mal and Roy. Maurs loves him and wants to bring him back to Perth. As long as he flies there (unassisted) I'm happy. He talks a little and has a screech that drowns out jumbo jets. He can call "Gary" at 120 decibels. He is in good shape though. Must be all the sunflower seeds he nibbles on, but I'm convinced he still has the taste for Gary's fingers...

                                        " Cocky wants a fingernail, Cocky wants a fingernail.."

Staying at Pete and Dianne’s when we first hit town coincided with their daughter Carley’s wedding plans which included a high tea on the Sunday afternoon. With twenty or so demanding females to cater for I was press-ganged into a waitering job and Petar and I spent the afternoon frocked up asking “Mo’ Tea?”- “Another Scone?” – and assuring “Of course the cream isn’t fattening!” But we managed to get a few cakes into us plus a beer so it wasn’t all bad, and the food was fabulous, and we always have fun because we are both such idiots.

                                           "Mo' Tea?" Petar and I waiting, waiting, waiting.

Moreover this last weekend was the wedding and it was coincidentally on the north coast and we were proud to be able to attend. The ceremony and reception was at Spirit House in Yandina. Lovely ceremony in a beautiful rainforest setting complete with teeming rain (for which I got the blame and the kudos when it ceased briefly for the ceremony – neither of which I deserved). The food was unbelievably good and a splendid time was ‘ad by all.

                     (Blake, bro; Adrian, groom; Carley, bride; Dianne and Petar, parents o' the bride)

The only downer has been keys. Thomas and Margaret left last Friday to go back to Brisbane and habitually took both sets of their apartment keys, so when it was our turn to leave we were a set down (as they say in tennis). Fortunately a neighbour keeps a spare set so we eventually grabbed those so we could lock the place up when we left. I said to Maurs “Let’s put these in a safe place, namely the deep recesses of her handbag. The next day Thomas asked if we could do him a favour and return a rental car for him. He had left the car-keys in the apartment. I took Pete with me. We talked and talked as we drove back to Mooloolaba from Coolum Beach. Halfway there it hit me. Keys are in the deep recesses of Maureen’s handbag. Back we go, through the teeming rain to get the plurry keys. Then back we go again to Mooloolaba. Book me in to the old folk’s home. Now I realise what the ticket inspector on the ferry was looking at.

I’m getting back to work...

On the Road with Donna

Donna had a window where she could do the road trip with us and much to my surprise she took it. Our daughter is well-known to be exclusively a “five star” traveller so roughing it with Maurs and me in the camper suggested a stretch in her comfort zone parameters. We made for Jerilderie the first night – lovely little town – makes you wonder why Ned Kelly was so intent on shooting the place up.

Jerilderie coughed up a freezing cold night. Did I mention that our daughter is also a well-known frog who feels the cold like few other warm-blooded mammals? She wore every scrap of clothing she had, wrapped herself up on top of her air mattress and shivered through the night. A pathetic sight greeted us in the morning – just a pair of eyes in a sea of clothes and blankets. The next night in Dubbo was a little milder and with the aid of Maurs’ thermals she made it through the night.

                              Rock on Global Warming! (Donna freezing in Jerilderie NSW

We drove past the famous Western Plains Zoo on our way in to Dubbo but all I could see was a bunch of cattle in a field. Some zoo. I mean would it kill them to place an elephant in the distance as an incentive to see more? After we settled in we went for a walk and bought a local paper. The Dubbo Daily Liberal is a mighty fine little paper that seems to do a lot of street reporting of local opinion. We were particularly impressed with Keira who was 16, unemployed, likes eating chicken and watching Jersey Shore on TV. The future of Australia is assured. There was also an article about how four of the white Rhinos at the Zoo had died of a mystery disease. It occurred to me that they could get a bunch of those cows and strap their heads sideways so that it would appear to have a horn in the front – might be very effective at dawn and dusk at least.

I’m still adjusting to Caravan Park living. Guys ablution blocks are something else (apparently it’s not near as traumatic in the female blocks – it’s just guys and their...habits). I’ll blog an entry one day on the subject. I’m still compiling evidence.

We’re driving to Glen Innes today. The girls have thrown me in the back seat to write the blog while they take turns in driving. Please excuse the shaky typing. It’s really not easy to do this in a moving vehicle.

We made Glen Innes – had a meal at the local steakhouse that couldn’t be beat and spent our last night on the road for a while. The next day was rainy as we made our way through the mountains and down the Cunningham Highway to Bris. A nice friendly truckie on the Motorway nearly caused me to miss the critical turn-off to Pete’s place but somehow we made the leftie and got to Pete’s at one minute to two in the afternoon. I had phoned him from Glen Innes saying we’d be there at two. “Sorry I’m early” I said. “Don’t let it happen again” he said. Brisbane is warm and humid. It’s nice to be home again.

Leaving Melbourne

We are once again cruisin’ the Returd Highway after a month “off it” in Melbourne . Next big stop is Brisbane and it will be a quick trip north as I have to do some work in Bris. This semi-retirement sucks a bit at times – like when you have to work!

                                                    Catching up with Skaf at the Cafe Sana

We managed to catch up with quite a few people in Melbourne and spent some quality time with Donna and Craig and Renee and Justin (and Dexter the dog).  It was a bit disconcerting being greeted by a garden gnome called Ben Sherman at the front door of Craig and Donna’s place but once we negotiated the boundaries(he stayed on the doorstep – I edged around him on the way out) we were fine. We did try to oust him when we cleaned out their garage but Ben dragged his sorry ceramic arse back to the doorstep before the garbage truck arrived.

                                                              Ben Sherman - almost toast!

We would have seen more friends and done more in Melbourne if it wasn’t for Maurs’ back problem. She’s fine now and the upside was that we were able to fund some Osteopath’s kids through a year of private schools and a European holiday in the process.

We stayed at Justin and Ren’s house over Easter and just as well we did. Easter Monday night we all turned in early as some of us had to go to work the next day. At about 3.30 am Maurs woke to hear her phone ringing, then she heard Ren mumbling something about a phone. “It’s ok,” said Maurs “it’s my phone!” “I know” said Ren, “I’m calling you!” From the next bedroom?!

It took a while for the fuzz to clear but it turns out when Justin closed the bedroom door upon retiring it locked and when he tried to open it for a call of nature it refused to open.It was good and locked and no amount of tickling from either side would open it. So the Foley Demolition Team set to in the early hours of Tuesday morning to get that door open at all costs. After all there were somewhat anxious people waiting on the other side. We tried to be nice; we tried to be subtle; but in the end it was hammers and screwdrivers to remove the stubborn lock cylinder. We can’t imagine what the neighbours thought of the loud hammering sounds at that hour but still, we prevailed and they were released from their prison. Conversation then centred around what they would have done had we not been in the house – and then as to whether they should be left alone at all! However Brisbane was calling and we set off on the Wednesday with a special guest in tow! Who is it? Stay tuned...

                                                           Should we leave these people  alone?

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.