Marsupial moments

I’ve just returned from my EO Forum’s annual overnight mini-retreat. Regular readers will recall that last year the group flew a hot air balloon in Melbourne, and visited Canberra in 2022. This year we stayed overnight on the Gold Coast.

I organised this year’s mini-retreat. As always, I was determined to deliver a memorable event. You’ll recall I organised our main annual retreat in Wellington in March last year. As I’ve blogged before, EO is big on developing the “whole person”. As a result, a great retreat needs to include people presenting on commercial topics, as well as people offering unique, or eclectic, perspectives on life. We also try to schedule a “once in a lifetime” experience.

This year I booked us into spectacular Sky Apartments at Peppers Broadbeach. Here we hosted a presentation by an old friend, Liz, who transformed her business from a physical operation employing more than 40 people to an entirely virtual organization that doesn’t maintain a single physical office.

Later that evening her husband, Adam, joined us to share his experience running their company, as well as inspiring the team with stories about their tree-change lifestyle living on a hobby farm near Ballina. Garry and I will be spending four days with them after Christmas.

We then spent Thursday afternoon at Currumbin Wildlife Sanctuary where we touched and held a koala while enjoying beer and wine with a light charcuterie board. The photos we received were spectacular. This is the first time I’ve ever held a koala. They’re heavier than they look! The little fella I held was at least 10kg or more.

Many years ago I got a few photos of me with koalas in the wild. It was Easter 1990. Three of us drove to Portland to spend the long weekend with a friend, Dean, on his family farm. While there we ventured out to nearby Mount Richmond National Park in search of koalas. We eventually came across one high in a tree. We climbed the tree and briefly touched it. However, if truth be told, the poor animal kept climbing to the tree's highest point to escape us. 

We subsequently encountered a second animal sitting half along a sturdy horizontally extended tree limb devoid of vegetation. The koala was very subdued. One at a time, we gingerly shuffled out onto the limb, sat next to it, put our arm around it briefly, took photos, and left it in peace. In hindsight, the animal was probably deeply unwell, or near death, as its exposed location, lack of fear and immobility were very abnormal.

We finished our afternoon on the Gold Coast with leisurely drinks on the outdoor patio at Burleigh Pavillon. Our corner table overlooked the arcing white sands of Burleigh Beach. We then relocated for dinner in a private dining space at Social Eating in Broadbeach. Garry and I ate there when we visited the Gold Coast last year.  Although the food this time wasn't as impressive.

We held our normal monthly business review meeting on Friday morning, followed by a leisurely lunch at Miss Moneypenny, a local institution. I ordered the truffle and mushroom risotto, which was mouth-wateringly good. Then, it was straight to the airport for our flight home.

Yesterday’s weather in Queensland was horrendous. The rain absolutely bucketed down. More than once the minivan taking us to the airport had to gingerly weave its way around or through localized flooding. Flights were also chronically delayed. Although, by sheer luck, our Jetstar flight was on time. All this was in stark contrast to the glorious weather we enjoyed flying in and out of Sydney.

However, everything I hate about Jetstar was borne out by my experience at the boarding gate. They weighed my hand luggage, declared it 4kg overweight and promptly hit me up for a $75 “gate upgrade charge”. Had I checked in my bag they'd have charged me nothing. Same bag, same weight, but loaded differently on the aircraft.

As the years pass, my love for Qantas slowly erodes. Year after year the airline quietly eliminates or downgrades benefits for Platinum frequent flyers while maintaining a Machiavellian Chinese Wall between its full-service airline and budget offshoot.

It’s happy to consolidate Jetstar’s performance as part of its annual results, while completely negating any frequent flyer benefits for Platinum members by declaring Jetstar “another airline”.  For example, my booking - completed on the Qantas website - included a Qantas-branded flight to the Gold Coast. This wouldn’t gall me as much if it wasn’t simultaneously pulling Qantas-branded aircraft off routes and replacing them with Jetstar alternatives.

Friends for life

Garry and I joined two long-standing friends, Jon and Colm, for dinner last night. We kicked off the evening with cocktails at Bobbie’s, a new subterranean bar in Double Bay before venturing upstairs for dinner at Neil Perry’s new Cantonese restaurant, Song Bird.

We last caught up as a quartet in July 2022, and before that, we enjoyed leisurely Sunday cocktails at the Beresford Hotel in 2019. However, we’ve had a couple of meals alone with Jon in the intervening years. Garry and I entertained Jon at Margaret, Neil Perry’s flagship restaurant, earlier this year, and an evening at Rockpool in Melbourne last year.

Our meal in 2022 was a leisurely lunch at Nour, followed by cocktails at the Dolphin Hotel. Jon succinctly describes this post-COVID reunion as “The best seven-hour lunch we’ve ever enjoyed”. Nour really was awesome. The restaurant gave us a large circular table next to full-length picture windows overlooking its rear garden wall. Above is us at the Dolphin.

Jon has the dubious distinction of being one of my longest-standing friendships in Australia. More than 30 years ago we met at a mutual friend’s housewarming party. Since then, our friendship has endured through good times and bad. Along the way, we’ve always been there for each other as we’ve battled some of our darkest moments, met our respective partners, got married (Jon and Colm in December 2002) and relocated across the globe (Garry and I to London, Jon and Colm to Vancouver).

Jon has taught me much about life. For example, his friendship helped me understand my mother’s personality and what she valued most. He’s also taught me true friendship is often an endurance race, not a sprint. I've learned that factors sustaining the relationship morph and evolve over time. Here's to many more decades of growing older together.

Mount Steel

I’ve written very little about the history of my neighbourhood in Sydney. As I read old blog posts, I’m struck by the fact that I’ve researched and written more about the history of our local area in London. How curious that so much of our daily life is considered dull and taken for granted.

I’d like to address the imbalance with a post about Mount Steel, a 60-metre-high tree-clad hill visible from our apartment. I was surprised to learn recently that this verdant mount is one of four prominent sandhills that once marked the southern boundary of colonial Sydney: Mount Steel, Mount Renny, Mount Lang and Constitution Hill. In fact, not far from the base of Mount Steel, stands a battered stone pillar marking the nineteenth century city limits.

Over time, all four sandhills were modified, or removed completely as the demand for park space grew. Mount Lang was removed to create the grassed parking zone opposite the Horden Pavillion, and Constitution Hill was flattened to form sections of the golf course behind the Supa Centre and the western fringe of Randwick Racecourse.

Today, only Mount Steel and Mount Renny remain. However, Mount Renny’s summit was flattened into a broad plateau in the 1920s to house the Moore Park Golf Club House and car park. As a result, Mount Steel, the tallest of the four original sandhills, remains the least altered. It was named after Alexander Steel in 1869. He was a Sydney Council Alderman who served from 1860-1870 and 1872-1874.

Mount Steel offers some stunning panoramic views of the city skyline. It reminds me of a similar view of London that we once enjoyed from Primrose Hill. Over the years it’s become a popular spot for people to sit and reflect or watch athletic types doing hill sprints on its northern flank. I also recall my friend Brendan using it to observe Comet McNaught in 2007.

Incredibly, Mount Steel has hosted all manner of athletic endeavours over the years. I discovered that in the late nineteenth century, it served as a training ground for professional, amateur, and " would-be” circus and vaudeville acrobats. Apparently, numerous athletes, young and old, would gather on Sunday mornings to train. Their training sessions were regularly watched by curious local onlookers.

From the 1970s to 1993, a grass ski centre operated on Mount Steel. A portable tow rope pulled skiers up the hill. They then skied down to the oval below on special grass skis or snowboards. The slope was reported to be ideal for both beginners and experienced skiers. It was 110 metres long and had a smooth beginners’ area and bumpy spots for the more adventurous.

More recently, the city council completed a crushed sandstone pathway partway up Mount Steel to improve access to its summit. The path replaces a dirt track joggers and dog walkers had carved out over the years from the base of a footbridge that spans South Dowling Street. It’s hard to imagine this landscaped mound was once a scrappy tussock-covered sandhill.

Broken Hill and back

Here's the last of three posts I've published about a Kodak-era road trip into the Australian outback. This post covers my time in Broken Hill, a place I'd dreamed of visiting as a child. My friend Enda and I spent two days exploring this iconic outback town in 2003.

After stopping for the night in White Cliff, it was on to Broken Hill. Along the way, we stopped to adjust our watches to Central Time, 30 minutes behind the rest of the state. Naturally, I couldn’t resist a classic tourist photo while passing into the new time zone.

Broken Hill was every bit as rugged and special as the mesmerising 35mm documentary film that inspired me as a child. As all good tourists do, we stayed at the Palace Hotel and booked ourselves into the hotel’s world-renowned Priscilla Suite. This unorthodoxly decorated room was made famous by the 1994 hit movie, The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.

 

The room’s walls and ceiling are covered in murals depicting classic Australian landscapes of streams, red dirt and gum trees. The halls and stairway leading up to the room are covered in more of these extraordinary hand-painted murals. An Indigenous artist from Port Augusta by the name of Gordon Waye painted much of what you see over several years.

However, despite its exotic decor, the room was fitted out in what could only be described as classic country pub sheek. In one corner sat a tiny TV on a varnished wooden shelf, floral duvets adored the bed, the floor boards creaked with every step, and an odd freestanding wash basin was installed midway along the wall. Thanks to a double-height ceiling, and a pair of balcony doors, the room did feel abnormally generous for pub accommodation.

We ate dinner in the bistro downstairs, then retired to our room. We sat outside for a while on the classic under cover wraparound balcony, soaking in the outback air. However, the temperature dropped quickly after dark from the mid-20s to about 18C so we soon called it a night. Bizarrely, we visited Broken Hill during a brief cool period. Daytime temperatures hovered around the mid to high twenties while we were there rather than the normal mid to high thirties earlier in the week.

While in Broken Hill we took time out to visit the Line of Lode Miners Memorial built on a ridge of mine tailing that towers over the town. Mining has claimed more than 800 lives over the years at Broken Hill, and the dramatic arching memorial is a poignant monument to them all. After viewing it you can sit on the Big Bench nearby and reflect on the lives lost. This colossal red seat is two and a half times the size of a regular bench.

We also took a mine tour which saw us don hard hats, enter an open cage and descend in into the depths of an abandoned mine. We were told that it continues to be maintained in working condition for the benefit of tourists. The tour gave us an excellent insight into the lives of miners and the risks they manage every day. We learned that the Line of Lode is one of the world’s largest bodies of ore, containing the silver, lead and zinc that's made fortunes in this remote outback city.

The following day we toured the Flying Doctors base and visited the town’s quirky monument to the lives of bandsmen lost in the sinking of the Titanic. Even though none of the bandsmen were Australian, their memorial in Stuart Park was completed less than two years after the disaster, in December 1912. It was a poignant reminder that tragic events impact every generation, each with its own 9/11 moment.

We then ventured out to the ghost town of Silverton. Once a booming silver mining town, its abandoned buildings and their restored facades are now renowned for starring in iconic Aussie films like Mad Max 2 and The Adventures of Priscilla. Most of the town's buildings are long gone.  However, a handful of lovingly restored structures dot an otherwise barren, gently sloping plateau. It's one of the oddest places I've ever visited in Australia.

After visiting Silverton, we drove to the nearby Mundi Mundi Lookout. Although back then it was called the Edge of the World, for good reason, as it sits on the rim of the Barrier Ranges. Beyond the hills the road winds down to a plateau that stretches to the horizon in an unbroken plain of barren red dirt. You really do feel like you’re standing at the edge of the world with eternity unfolding before you. I’ve since requested that a portion of my ashes be scattered here when I die.

From Broken Hill, it was onward to the Murray River. We drove into Wentworth and made our way to the confluence of the Darling and Murry Rivers in time to witness a spectacular sunset. Even now, decades later, I still consider the photo we took as one of my all-time favourites. We then stopped for the night in Mildura. 

The following morning, we booked ourselves a river cruise on the Paddle Steamer (PS) Melbourne. This vessel started life in Koondrook on the River Murray in 1912. Built for the Victorian Government as a work boat, the Melbourne was once fitted with a huge winch that was used for hauling fallen trees and snags from the river. This kept the main channel open throughout the year for other boats. 

The PS Melbourne was restored and converted for the tourist trade in 1996. Today it’s licensed to carry 300 passengers. Incredibly, as a flat bottom boat, it can safely navigate in water only four feet deep. However, our tour spent a relaxing two hours in much deeper channels sailing down through Mildura's Lock 11 and back. Along the way we passed the Melbourne’s sister ship, the Rothbury MV. 

Afterwards, we drove out of town to the local Yabbi farm where an enthusiastic farmhand gave a private tour. It was fascinating to learn how these freshwater crayfish are cultivated. They take two years to reach a commercial size of at least 10-15cm. The secret to optimal growth is to keep the water at a constant temperature between 23C to 25C year-round. Sadly, the farm at Gol Gol has long since disappeared.  I looked for it to no avail when Garry returned to Mildura in 2021.

From Mildura we drove directly to Wagga Wagga, stopping briefly in Hay and Narrandera to stretch our legs. This was easily our longest scheduled drive, taking more than six hours and covering more than 550km. However, Wagga was little more than an overnight pitstop on our way to Canberra.

The next morning we carried on to the ACT, stopping briefly in Gundagai to check out the famous Dog on a Tucker Box statue. This was my second visit to Gundagai. I'd first stopped here while driving to Portland, Victoria for an Easter weekend break in 1990.

Canberra was our final overnight stop. Enda and I did the usual tourist thing, visiting Parliament and venturing up Mount Ainslie to marvel at the city’s carefully planned layout. We then drove back to Sydney via Goulburn and its iconic Big Merino. In six days we’d driven more than 2,700km and ticked off many of New South Wales’s most iconic outback experiences.

I’ve never been back to Broken Hill. However, I am keen to return and drive north to Tibooburra. This remote town near the Queensland border has always captured my imagination. It regularly reports the state’s hottest daily temperatures. Hence, I’m dying to see what's out there. Tibooburra is also close to Camerons Corner, a roadhouse that sits on the tripartite border point for South Australia, Queensland and New South Wales. Watch this space!

White Cliffs

I visited the iconic opal mining town of White Cliff in February 2003. At the time, I’d embarked on a six-day circuit of the New South Wales outback with my friend Enda in tow. This is the second of three posts about our Kodak-era adventures.

The road to White Cliff was an adventure in and of itself. Shortly after leaving Wilcannia, the tar seal ended, and the road reverted to graded red dirt. For the next 50km, we slowly weaved around ruts, potholes and through pools of muddy water. More than once, I wondered if we’d soon find ourselves bogged in the middle of the desert. 

Despite a few hair-raising moments we made it safely to White Cliff as the sun neared the horizon. What a sunset! On the edge of town, we climbed a low tailings ridge and stood in awe of the jumbled, iridescent landscape unfolding before us. The image below simply doesn’t do it justice. 

Many White Cliff locals live underground in “dugouts” year-round. It’s the coolest place in the Outback where outdoor temperatures can soar above 40 C for weeks on end. Underground the temperature remains a comfortable 22 C all year round. 

I was keen to experience life underground, so I booked us into PJ's Bed and Breakfast, an underground establishment with five guest rooms. The photo below was ripped from the web as I never took any of my own. Even its address was a novelty: Dugout 72, White Cliffs NSW 2836. This was the first time I’d slept in an underground home, a feat that wasn’t repeated until Garry and I spent two nights underground in Cooper Pedy in 2019. 

Like many homes in this opal mining town, our accommodation was built into the hillside alongside a miner’s active claim. Opal miner Peter Pedler (the P in PJ's) runs the place with his wife, Joanne. Although, much to their surprise, Edna and I rocked up a day ahead of schedule. Hours earlier we’d walked into a dodgy hotel I’d booked in Cobar, thought better of it and kept driving. As luck would have it, our unsuspecting B&B hosts, who’d been on vacation, arrived home minutes before us. 

Edna and I shamelessly played dumb and insisted we’d booked the correct date. Our hosts graciously agreed to accommodate us a day ahead of schedule. They also apologized for only offering a simple pasta meal as they hadn’t restocked their pantry.

After dinner, Peter took us on a tour of the narrow winding shafts in his home’s private opal mine under Turley’s Hill. He showed us a promising seam and let us touch a few of his more recent finds, including several opals that had been polished to perfection.

I’d wanted to visit White Cliff after watching contestants from the TV reality show, The Amazing Race, play golf on its barren nine-hole course. Edna and I simply had to give it a go so our B&B hosts tracked down the local “greenskeeper” the following morning. We hired a set of clubs and balls and set about playing the oddest course I’ve ever encountered. I’m not too proud to admit that we both lost balls. However, I still finished with the best score. 

The golf course was the ultimate outback experience. No grass at all, narrow fairways, lots of saltbush, plenty of out-of-bound zones and a few unique desert hazards including gravel, dry creek beds and burrow holes. To protect your club from damage, you’re given a small mat of artificial turf to carry with you. The local rules allow you to move your ball one club length onto your portable mat for each shot, while the greens are little more than fine rolled gravel, occasionally damped down with oil.

 

White Cliffs is also home to the world’s first commercial solar power station, built in 1980. On the outskirts of town, 14 shiny concave dishes focus the sun’s energy to generate superheated steam for driving electromagnetic turbines. We saw it from a distance as we drove into town, returning the next day for a closer look. It’s easy to forget that solar power was still in its infancy four decades ago. While preparing this post, I learned that the White Cliff station ceased operation in 2005, two years after my visit.

Follow this link for more outback adventures as we explore Broken Hill and the Murray River.

NOTE: 17 November 2024

This evening, I discovered that the golf course I’d seen on The Amazing Race was filmed in Cooper Pedy. I can’t believe it. I’ve been wrong about the White Cliffs course for over twenty years. How lucky were we that this red dirt town inadvertently offered an identical golfing experience!

A very outback adventure

I visited Broken Hill for the first time (and thus far, only time) in February 2003. It had been a lifelong dream to visit this iconic outback mining town. My dream was inspired by a 35mm movie I’d seen at primary school while living in Dunedin—around 1974. I’d have been eight years old at the time.

Once a month the school took delivery of hefty reels of documentaries and teaching films. The projector would be set up in the school library and the windows covered by blackout curtains. Classrooms then took turns watching the latest delivery of celluloid education.

For reasons I may never understand, a film about mining and life in Broken Hill captured my imagination. The town it depicted was simply the most exotic, remote and magical place my young mind could comprehend. Perhaps it stuck with me, simply because it opened my eyes to the wider world around me for the first time.

 
In February 2003 I was suffering from burnout. Following my recent appointment as Asia Pacific (APAC) Regional Director for Text 100, I'd been working insanely long hours and travelling continually for more than nine months. After a rather unpleasant run-in with my CEO, my Regional HR Director and I agreed it would be wise for me to take a few weeks off.

After a week of sitting around home, I booked myself a road trip to Broken Hill, and on to Mildura, before returning to Sydney. The final circuit I mapped out covered more than 2,700km, spread over seven days. Along the way, it ticked off plenty of bucket list destinations including the Parkes Radio Telescope, White Cliffs and the Murray River. 

At the last minute Edna, a close friend, decided to join me on the trip. He’d just split from his long-term partner, and thus, like me needed an emotional circuit breaker. Here's a summary of our itinerary as best I can recall. I’m unsure if we stayed one night or two in Broken Hill, as we dropped one of our scheduled overnight stops on the way there.

DAY	DATE	ITINERARY
1	17 Feb	Blue Mountain, Bathurst, Parkes
2	18 Feb	Nyngan, Cobar, White Cliffs
3	19 Feb	Broken Hill
4	20 Feb	Silverton, Wentworth, Mildura
5	21 Feb	Murray River, Wagga Wagga
6	22 Feb	Canberra
7	23 Feb	Return to Sydney

Our first day on the road started with a morning drive to the Blue Mountains. We stopped at three of the area’s classic sights including Wentworth Falls, The Three Sisters and Govetts Leap, then carried on to Bathurst. We completed the mandatory Panoramic Hill circuit (home to the Bathurst 1000 motor race) before finishing the day in Parkes. Here we visited the 64 m CSIRO Parkes Radio Telescope. Enda and I explored exhibits at its visitor centre before finally checking into a local motel for the night. 

The following morning, we headed north towards Nyngan. I was keen to visit this remote town after watching record floods devastate it in April 1990. A wall of water 14 kilometres wide, spread around the town and surrounding countryside making escape impossible. More than 2,500 locals were eventually evacuated using 15 helicopters.

Edna and I toured the local museum inside the town's old railway station. We both learned a great deal about the flood and its soul-destroying aftermath. In a car park outside the natural disaster is dramatically commemorated by a retired RAAF Iroquois helicopter mounted on a two-metre-high pole.

We then continued to Cobar. I’d originally booked a room in the local hotel for the night. However, Edna and I walked into the bar, looked at the locals and the ramshackle décor, and decided to head for White Cliffs, our next overnight stop. However, before leaving town we took a detour to the local meteorological station, arriving in time to help the resident meteorologist launch a daily weather balloon. 

He gave us a superb briefing on his remote outpost's role in forecasting the state’s weather. Sadly, the station was automated in 2016, and the 3:15pm balloon launch we enjoyed is no more. On the way out of town, we stopped briefly at the Fort Bourke Hill Lookout to check out the recently reopened Open Cut Gold Mine. It's hard to believe the soaring price of gold has made these old mines commercially viable again.

As good tourists do, Enda and I stopped several times, literally in the middle of nowhere, to photograph the arrow-straight Barrier Highway disappearing into the horizon. Without a doubt, these were iconic outback photo opportunities for both of us. Even more so considering that Enda comes from Ireland and me from New Zealand, two countries where straight, flat roads are few and far between.

Wilcannia was our next tourist highlight. We stopped to look at its old trestle bridge and catch our first glimpse of the Darling River. Much to our surprise, the river wasn’t flowing. Instead, segregated pools of water filled the river channel. Information panels nearby displayed images of the river in flood with boats docked along its banks. It was hard to believe we were viewing the same scene. However, we finally saw Darling flowing freely as it merged with the mighty Murray River in Wentworth several days later.

From here it was on to White Cliffs and our first encounter with life in the Outback.