Baotou Inner Mongolia: Beijing: Hong Kong: Brisbane: Qantas QF 98: Lake Baroon: Maleny: Landsborough: Montville: Chinese Winter: Queensland Summer:
From Chinese Winter to Australian Summer
Homeward Bound 2010
Introduction
This article relates some events in my life as I traveled from Baotou in Inner Mongolia to Brisbane in Australia, in January 2010. Containing 5 separate stories first published at Magic City Morning Star News between February 1st and 5th 2010, it contains photographs that may not have appeared in the Magic City Morning Star News Edition. The photographs are not specifically placed to match the article text.
I write this whilst sitting in the heat of Queensland's Perfect weather; hence the 'hot air' title, but the story is actually about the snow and ice in Baotou in Inner Mongolia.
From the time I first arrived in Baotou (June 26th) until I finished work there on January 10th, I had not had much opportunity to do any sightseeing, and so therefore, have not had much to offer readers in the way of photographs of the area. The city itself does not really have much to offer, other than a number of parks and gardens; the most interesting of which in my opinion is the Grasslands Park. I have on many occasions visited or seen a variety of parks, but usually not with my camera in hand, and I don't own one of those mobile phones with the ability to take photographs. Those types of mobile phones are far too complicated for this feeble mind to work out. I'm still coming to terms with using mobile phones, and in an up coming story you will come to understand just how difficult modern technology is for me.
Anyway, getting back to the point at hand; just before I left Henry's Private English School in Baotou on January 10th, the city received a few hours snow to add to the ice that was left over from the one day of snow we had had about 6 weeks earlier. With 4 days free between ending my employment at Henry's school, and my flight back to Australia, I took the opportunity to take my camera out to a rather deserted looking park alongside of which is some type of water storage facility.
I had visited the park twice before, once in Summer and again a few weeks ago to see if the water was frozen. On neither occasion were there people to be found there, so I am guessing that it is not a popular place. Once we got the fresh snow I went up there again with trusty camera to capture these shots. On the map, the area looks like a river, but it can only be a dry river bed that feeds into the Yellow River. I have been told that it takes an hour to drive out to the Yellow river. This tributary is just 'up the road' so to speak, on the edge of town.
It is hard to describe. One half of this river bed has been filled in, and the rest of it has been turned into a series of water catchments. Each segment is quite long and each has at one end, water that is just an inch deep. At the other end of each segment it is probably several meters deep. Who knows? But there is a barrier of sorts between each segment, on the other side of which is a 3-5 meter drop, at which point there begins a new catchment area. Each segment has a concrete 'bottom / base/ floor', so that the water doesn't seep down into the water table. It appears to be a place where flash floods are trapped, perhaps to avoid letting water run out into the desert to evaporate. These two photos (below) are of workmen who were digging a trench beside what can only be described as a 'dam' which separates the various segments.
It wasn't until I went on a few more meters that I realised why they were digging the trench. Apparently, underneath the surface there is some kind of 'heater' to melt the ice, which then flows down into the next segment. It was quite interesting to watch the steamy water running through the ice. The park constructed alongside the water catchment is also quite interesting, with a number of sulptures or themed features. It's worst feature was that it has no WC's (Washrooms). Yes that was me furtively lurking about under the bridge - won't tell you what I was doing!
At the time I took these photos, the water was frozen, and tracks across it were visible. What was interesting was the depth of snow on the surface. It seemed to be far more than we had a few blocks away in the Kunqu District CBD. Now I have included here a photograph of two penguins, but those are just for show. Like those who take photos of them, they are just dummies. The Ice sculpture behind them is created by a series of pipes through which hot water is pumped. The pool tables out in the snowy park are not however for show! They are real! For some reason however, (perhaps -20 degree temperatures?) they were covered and no one was using them. (That was not a redundant statement!) The tables are located in the same park as the penguins, which is to say, at the end of the block on which I lived (Linyin Road), at the intersection with Gangtie Dajie.
The photo of the people walking on the ice was taken at a pond on Tuanjie Dajie, within walking distance of where I was living. I traveled past it every day on the bus and was determined to go there and get some photographs. Of course if you come from a place where it snows, these photos mean absolutely nothing, but for those of us from places with decent climates, they are interesting.
So there you have it. Just a few photographs I took before heading back to Sunny Queensland Australia, where everything is beautiful one day and perfect the next! (It says so in the State Advertising Campaign!) I hope you enjoyed this little snippet from my life. Within days I will publish a few more articles of what has transpired since these photographs were taken. If you would like to see some more photographs of Baotou, go to the links contained at the bottom of the article entitled: Sitting Pretty in Baotou Inner Mongolia. (That article was specifically written because I knew that my first employers in Baotou were disreputable.)
I am writing this little story whilst sitting in the Summer heat in Brisbane Australia, but the story itself takes place in the Winter Cold of China. On January 14th 2010, I commenced my trip back to Australia. The temperature at that time was varying between minus 15 and minus 20 degrees. It was for this Aussie, despite living in China for 7 years, truly cold.
Although in Baotou, the buildings come equipped with central heating - a simply marvelous invention - once you hit the cold outside air your system goes into shock. Everyday when I went to work, the first thing that happened was that my eyes would run rivers of tears. Half the time I couldn't even feel them. The other thing that happens is that your nose begins to run. But not to worry, in 2 minutes flat the snot freezes up and you are OK until you enter warmer air. But this story is not about nose snot!
Having air traveled between Baotou and Shanghai on occasions, I pretty much knew that it would be fruitless to buy a ticket direct from Baotou to Brisbane. This because the planes in Baotou are always many hours late, and of course, they did not disappoint me on January 14th. My 11.45 am flight left at 1pm. Knowing that this would happen, I had bought my international ticket from Beijing, and chanced travelling to Beijing the day before. That also meant that I would need accommodation on the 14th. After checking the Internet, I came across the Beijing Aulympic - Olympic - Hotel, located very close to the airport. The fees were very very very low and that suited me fine. I did not expect however, that the hotel would be as nice as it was.
View from my hotel Window
When I booked the room I asked for a driver to meet me at the airport, and he did. That sounds simple but it really wasn't. Firstly, I had no idea where to find the bus, and despite the fact that someone at the hotel could speak English, it was still difficult to get directions with regard to the meeting the bus. I ended up doing that in Chinese. After a few phone calls, I found myself waiting on the 4th level of the airport in a pick up area (not that sort of pick up), and finally my phone rang and as I tried to answer it, the driver introduced himself. The phone call was from him just to make sure I was the right foreigner. The drive to the hotel was short, but noting how we got there reminded me of a guest comment on the hotel website warning that taxi drivers can't find the place. No wonder! The name of the hotel on the brochure is 'Beijing Aulympic Airportel', but in every other place it was just Beijing Olympic Hotel.
Except for the Chinese breakfast which I still won't eat, every other facility and amenity that you could wish for was available. The room was spacious, airy, clean and above all, warm. In fact, just as I do in Baotou, I slept with the window open to cool the room down. Central heating delivers just one temperature in all rooms, and I prefer a cooler sleep, even in winter.
The first thing I did upon entering the room was hit the Internet and post articles for Magic City Morning Star News. After that I checked emails. Later in the evening, having read that google had removed their censoring of politically incorrect content in China, I decided to try it out. Yep! I typed in Tiananmen square massacre photos and had everything I could wish to read, available at the click of a button. (Next morning I couldn't access the Internet at all! mmmm?)
Left Frame: R.P. BenDedek on Yancheng TV Program
I prefer local food to hotel food, and so for both dinner and breakfast I went out into the streets and found a local dive. For dinner, I ordered Qingjiao Rousi, and ended up with a different dish. Eh! you get that. None of us spoke proper Mandarin (they came from Sichuan) and I knew that they had difficulty understanding my pronunciation. No worries! It was a great dish. I even had a floor show. The Twenty year old boy who served me ended up in a fight with the drunk cook, and I thought for awhile that it was going to be a full on punch up. Everyone was embarrassed to have allowed the foreigner see the event - but hey! - I have seen worse in China. Fist fights usually occur between members of the 'Gentle' sex. This was the 2nd time in 7 years I have seen males fighting. I have lost track of the number of 'fairer sex' fights. Gotta watch those Chinese women!
On the 15th, I took the bus back to the airport and boarded a flight to Hong Kong. The journey took about three and a half hours, and by the time I arrived, I was just about broiled. I proceeded to the Washroom where I stripped off my long underwear, a T-shirt, 2 pairs of thermal underwear tops, and a sweater, and swapped my boots for regular shoes. Just as well I had taken an extra empty carry bag to stuff my underwear into. I couldn't have sat on the next plane wearing all that clothing for the next 9 hours.
Well that is all I want to write at the moment. I hope that you have enjoyed this snippet from my life, and hope those of you having a stopover in Beijing now have some information at your fingertips in regard to where to stay.
The Beijing Aulympic Airportel room cost me just 199 rmb for the evening.
On January 14th I flew from Baotou in Inner Mongolia to Beijing. That night I stayed in the Beijing Aulympic Airportel and next day flew to Hong Kong where I connected with a Qantas flight to traveling to Brisbane Australia. The three and a half hour flight from Beijing was quite pleasant, and I spent a reasonable amount of time talking with 'Vaibhav' an Indian who was returning home to India after a month of working in Beijing.
In Hong Kong I transferred to Qantas Flight 98, which left Hong Kong at 22.45 local time on it's 8.5 hour trip to Brisbane. I have traveled Qantas countless times, but never have I witnessed the 'extra security precautions' that were taken in Hong Kong. We were all made to line up single file and be 'inspected'. We had to produce our passports to the first inspector, and then 'some people' (not specifically mentioning ethnic persons of the Muslim persuasion) were quizzed by a second officer.
Bribie Island looking out to Moreton Island Queensland
Once we had our boarding passes checked, we headed down the ramp to baord the plane. Then we discovered that we were to undergo individual hand luggage inspection. Having security officers looking through your unmentionables is bad enough without having everyone else having a gander as well. I realise that security is necessary, and that perhaps the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation had received a 'tip off' about some specific matter, but I gotta tell you folks, all that 'strange' security was a little unnerving.
With that out of the way however, we passengers settled down for our flight. Now as I have said, I have traveled Qantas many times, and I always enjoy talking to the staff. I am one of those passengers who simply cannot sleep on a plane, not even in the fancy type of business class section (you know - the one almost like 1st class). Additionally my legs cramp and swell, and so I am constantly walking up and down the aisles to keep the blood circulating. I therefore always appreciate the friendliness of Qantas staff. It can't be easy for them having to get from the galley past those queing for the washrooms and those of us blocking the aisles.
I can honestly say that I have N-E-V-E-R encountered a surly, impolite or obnoxious Qantas staff member and simply don't understand why it is that from time to time, Qantas staff get a bad rep in the press. They are always very friendly, and except for this specific trip, have always been female. I was to discover on this trip however, that most of the attendants were male. There was John, Craig, Terrance Chin, Lucas, and there was also a Brendan, but I can't read my notes so I can't remember if that Brendan was the pilot Capt. Heslin, or another person. There were two female crew as well, but I only got one name, that of Gabrielle.
Surf Side Bribie Island
You might well ask if I usually go around taking down the names of the crew. Well actually I don't, but the flight started with such a laugh, and the crew were such characters that I did in fact write down their names. So how did the flight start with a laugh? Well - it was like this.
As we were taxiing out to the tarmac for take off, an announcement was made, and it went like this:
'Ladies and Gentlemen, we are just going to dim the lights a little to enhance the appearance of the Cabin Crew'.
Everyone on the plane burst out laughing at the announcement and so I figure that it was just the right thing to say after scaring us all out of our wits with the extra precautionary security checks. I might also add that dimming the lights didn't enhance the cabin crew's appearances.
Monteville Swimming in swollen creek and Bribie Parachuting
Throughout the flight I made frequent trips to the galley area, and at various times talked with different staff members. They all appeared to get on very well together. During one brief discussion with an attendant, the subject of Google's troubles with the Chinese government was raised. I mentioned the troubles I had had with my own website, and that led to mentioning that I am a contributing columnist for a 'newspaper'.
As a joke, that attendant told another that I was a journalist with 'The Australian' newspaper, and that I was doing a story on Qantas Flight Attendants. I joined in by saying that within a few days my article and comments on the staff would be posted and everyone would know what the standard of service was like. The joke was kept up for the rest of the trip. I never did work out if anyone bought that story, but at in the final analysis, this is that article.
Congratulations to Qantas for a job well done.
Footnote:
We arrived at Brisbane Airport 10 minutes early and as a result had to sit and wait to disembark - and that is when I finally fell asleep. Go Figure!
I have written over the last few days of the progress of my relocation from Baotou in Inner Mongolia to Brisbane Australia, and in one of those articles, I mentioned that mobile phones are too technologically challenging for me. Today I just want to share with you some of the 'Murphy's Law' type of frustration I have suffered in relation to mobile phones.
I bought my first mobile phone in 2002 and only did so because I had planned a long road trip up the east coast of Queensland, and figured that it would be a prudent thing to ensure that I could contact 'emergency services' should the need arise.
Glasshouse mountains
I had a great trip and the phone came in very handy, although my kids complained that I didn't answer any of their text messages. It could text message? Go Figure!
In 2003 I moved to China, and the first thing I did of course was buy a 'SIM' card for my mobile; and the phone rejected that move outright. Back in OZ on holidays I went to the dealer who told me to call the service department where, having failed to unlock my phone using the appropriate command codes, sent me to someone who would physically unlock it so that I could use it in China. No Luck! I gave the mobile to my sister-in-law.
In 2008 whilst living in Yancheng, I finally purchased a mobile phone. I bought it while on a trip to Suzhou, and it cost only 400 rmb. It was a nifty little thing and I loved it dearly.
Unfortunately in May 2009 it fell out of my pocket during a rickshaw ride and I didn't discover that fact for 24 hours. So once again - no mobile phone.
At that point in time I was being conned into going up to Inner Mongolia to work for EET Baotou. The boss told me not to replace my lost mobile phone for she would surely buy me a new phone. You know what they say: If it sounds too good to be true - then it probably is!
Maleny Pub
The phone she gave me was a piece of cheap junk that had no English in it and was only useful for making local calls. (In retrospect I can understand the reasoning behind providing a phone that would cut me off from the outside world.)
When they found that I couldn't work the phone, they bought another with some English in it, but when I quit EET Baotou by simply walking out of the office and moving out of my apartment during the middle of my shift, I made sure to leave that phone behind.
Then I purchased another phone and it has been bearable to use. Bearable simply means 'I can use it!' which is a Chinglish expression meaning I don't want or don't like something, but will put up with it!
I brought the phone with me to Australia, and as soon as I checked into my hotel (Chermside Motor Inn 644 Gympie Road Chermside), I set off for the nearest newsagency to buy an Australian SIM card. And that's when I fell foul of Murphy's Law and my own stupidity.
The shopkeeper ask: 'Which type of card would you like? The Telstra this or the other name that or the other cheap crap or......."
I said: 'Look, I don't care. I just arrived in the country and I need a SIM card so that I can use my phone and contact my family.'
With that he sold me a Telstra Start up pack for $30 which gave me $30 worth of calls. I removed my Chinese SIM card, inserted the TELSTRA card - and nothing happened.
'Give it a minute mate!' said the Shopkeeper. 'It has to register on the network yet! You receive a message shortly! Maybe you'd like to read the instruction manual while you wait?'
"No thanks!" I snorted: "She'll be right mate!"
From Monteville looking down the valley
A little while later I received messages asking me to 'save this' and 'save that' into my phone, and with that done, I tried to call family. Nope! It wouldn't let me. I went back to the hotel and tried again. Again nothing! Tried again but by this time I'm beginning to wonder if 'Your phone is not registered', meant more that 'give us some time mate!'
So I did what any Aussie male would do in a situation where nothing works - I read the instruction manual. Well it turns out that whereas in China you just buy a card, stick it in your phone, and 'Bob's your uncle!', in Australia you have to provide all sorts of personal information before you can get a telephone number. (and China is not a 'free' country?)
According to the instruction manual, I could telephone TELSTRA or I could go to their Website and do what needed to be done. Unfortunately, the motel didn't provide landline connection to the internet, and as my computer is so old, it would not cooperate with whatever system it was that they had working in the motel for 'wireless' connection.
Too exhausted from all my travelling and the frustration, I decided to get a fresh start the following day (Sunday). I also decided to go see Avatar at the Mall. That was no easy task. I couldn't find the ticket office. I even asked the guy who collects tickets as you enter the cinema. 'Down at the service desk!' he told me. I couldn't find it! So I went back to the Motel and collapsed.
The next day - Sunday, I paid my $30 deposit to the Motel Manager to have the landline phone connected to my room and then made a call to Telstra. Naturally the service was automated and I sat and listened to all the choices that the 'voice' gave me. By the time it had finished, I couldn't remember which button was the appropriate one, and had to wait while the confused machine recited the instructions again.
Flooding rains a welcome relief after years of droughts.
I settled on 'Press One', and waited. Then it gave me more choices, and I made the appropriate choice. Then it told me that my call might be monitored for instructional purposes and that I should tell the operator if I didn't want the call monitored. Then it told me to listen to all the advertising that would play while waiting to be connected, and even reminded me that I could do this registering on the internet.
Eventually I heard the ringing tone again, and waited to speak to a real live person. Instead I got:
'We are currently undergoing maintenance on this service. Please call back in 24 hours.' OK! What to do? The answer seemed plain. Forget about registering the phone until the next day, and just go to the movies. (I had discovered by then that the tickets are sold at the snack bar). I had seen that Avatar was on at the cinema in the local mall, so off I went.
As I entered the mall I saw a Telstra shop. What luck! So I went in to see if they could help me, but was reminded yet again, that nothing is simple in my life.
I went to the service desk and stood beside another fellow who was waiting there. After about 5 minutes I asked him if the place had any service staff. He assured me that eventually someone would come and speak to me and then I would have to wait for the first available person to talk to. And that is just what happened. I waited and waited and waited. I had my name taken down and the nature of the problem, and then waited and waited some more.
Montville business premises
Finally a lady comes to talk to me and after a brief discussion, we head off to their 'customer use' computers. This lady was really helpful navigating the system.
Finally she says: 'OK! Now we just need your address. Where do you live?'
'In Inner Mongolia China' I informed her.
'Oh! That won't do! Can you give me an Australian address?' she asked. So I gave her my sister's address. 'OK! Now what is her telephone number?'
'I don't know!' I reply. 'The number is in my computer!'
'Is there anyone else whose number you know?'
'I know my brother's number, but I don't know his address!'
The lady smiled one of those 'oh isn't it fun to be dealing with old people' smiles. Then she asked me where I was staying. So I told her. She asks if I know the address and telephone number. I assured her that I did. She types in the address and then I opened my mobile phone to show her the hotel telephone number.
The computer then informed us that they didn't match. Oh Crap! At that point I gave up and left to go to the movies. Much later I discovered that I had provided the telephone number for the Olympic Hotel in Beijing. That was a rather silly thing to do, but not as silly as both of us having failed to look up the Chermside Motor Inn telephone number in the phone book.
Next day, when Telstra services had been restored to normal, I phoned the company, went through all the automated service, and finally got connected to a wonderful chap - in the Philippines! Well, at least he got me connected! Problems solved. Or so I thought!
Not long after finishing my call to the Philippines, I discovered two things. The first was that I could now make calls, and the second was that my phone battery was critical. OK then! Before I start calling people, I will charge up the phone. Right? Wrong!
I'm using a Chinese phone in Australia, which means that the charger plug won't go into the power outlet. So it was off to buy an adapter. I went back to the shopping center, bought an adapter and put my phone on to charge.
Inside Poets Cafe Montville
At the mall I used the "public use" computers to send everyone an email listing my new telephone number.
Some hours later I discover that I had missed two telephone calls. I called the first number, and got one daughter's answering machine. I then called the next number, and got a lady's voice on the phone. Thinking it was my daughter, I put on a fake Indian voice and started to talk - AND SHE CUT ME OFF!
I then texted a message which said: 'Don't you recognise your father's voice? Maybe I should have spoken in Chinese'.
Over the next 3 days, everyone I contacted insisted that they had never received such a call nor any such text message. Then I got an email from my brother asking why had I sent his Wife a message about not recognising her father's voice. Did I not know that her father had died the year before. Well at least the explanation gave everyone a good laugh.
So there I was in Brisbane for 48 hours with no way to contact anyone. Well actually that isn't quite true, for I had paid for the landline to my motel room to be connected, but no one answered their phones. At least that was understandable.
My sister had an operation the day before I arrived and my eldest daughter had had a 'C section' the day previous to that. Everyone was out visiting everyone else in the various hospitals and of course telephones must be switched off in the hospitals.
Between Murphy's Law, dreaded technology, and Telstra, I spent the first 2 days in Brisbane, incommunicado and judging by some of the emails I get from Magic City Readers, that is just the way they like me!
I have this week been publishing an account of my trip from Baotou in Inner Mongolia to Brisbane in Australia. I've written about the ice and snow in Baotou, my stay at the Beijing Olympic Hotel, My Qantas flight from Hong Kong to Brisbane, and my troubles getting my mobile phone to work when I arrived. Today I am going to tell you about a recent activity that would have shocked my father, were he still alive. I went fishing!
My father tried his best to be a good father, and he loved fishing, but fishing is one of those things that I put on par with having teeth pulled at the dentist. My dad loved to fish, but for some reason thought it was a good thing for me (certainly not for himself), to take me out in a little boat with oars and outboard, to try my hand at the game. My father simply couldn't get it through his skull that I simply did not W-A-N-T to be sticking worms on hooks and nor could I master the simple art of tying hook and sinker on a fishing line. I frustrated the hell out of him on every occasion we went fishing, but he persisted. And I never learned a thing. Watching paint dry in my opinion was just as exciting as fishing, except when he would catch a shark.
Driving into Maleny - beautiful countryside
My dad would hook the sods and spend ages dragging them to the side of the boat where he would proceed to bash their heads in with a hammer. I remember on one occasion when, having concluded that the shark was dead, he proceeded to drag it into the little boat. He miscalculated. No sooner had he managed to get the 2 meter monster in the boat when it came back to life. The boat was only 3 meters long (if that), and being shorter than either the fish or the boat was long, I was terrified.
I have always been terrified of sharks, and with good reason. My father's favourite fishing spot was down at Hayes Inlet near the Hornibrook Bridge at Redcliffe, and the area was infested with the monsters. Hell they infest all the rivers as far as 40 kilometers inland. I've had a close and personal encounter with a shark in the ocean, and I fairly walked on water - or was that ran on water to get away from it. Such is the morbid and ingrained fear of sharks that once when I went swimming in the Hanjiang river, just 100 metres from the Yangtze River junction, that it took real will power to convince myself that I had absolutely no fear of being eaten by a shark there - 1000 kilometers from the sea.
Another thing that drove my father crazy when we went fishing was that I seemed to have a wonderful knack of getting my line tangled and he spent most of his time untangling my lines. To add insult to injury, if we ever caught anything, I simply refused to eat it. But all that said and done I do admire my father for having had the patience that he did. It was something I could not give my own boys, cause they knew more about fishing than I ever did, so we didn't indulge in the pastime together. Sorry boys! Given my disdain for fishing, you can imagine my reaction when my little brother decided it would be a great thing if we caught up with each other and spent some quality time together by going fishing. I did gently try to dissuade him from the idea, but his love for the sport overrode his aural senses, and so it was that I found myself going on a fishing trip. At least I knew I was not going to have to contend with sharks, for he had chosen to go to Lake Baroon.
The exact distance from the heart of Brisbane is unknown to me, but I can estimate that it is around 90 kilometers. It's a small manmade lake which in parts is at least 34 meters deep. This I know for a fact, because my brother, the penultimate sportsman who never likes to leave anything to chance, has a sonar device installed in the Kayak (our mode of transport for the occasion) that lets him know not just the depth of the water, but where the fish are, and whether or not it is worth the effort to circle the area in an effort to catch something.
Old style queenslander home in Landsborough
Now you did read that right. In a lake - no sharks - with sonar and paddling around in a kayak. No ordinary kayak mind you. This one has peddles that you ride like a bicycle (both of you) and they power the kayak, being as they are, connected to paddles under the kayak. My brother assured me that I would not have to contend with worms, hooks, tying lines or untangling them. And he was right. There is no sinker on the line, and he uses lures with multiple hooks. You don't even tie them on the line. You just snaplock them into place and 'bob's your uncle'.
While all of that sounded great, what I was not sure about was the actual kayaking. I can't keep my balance at the best of time, and he warned me that I must never move suddenly or lean too much to one side or try to turn around in the kayak. So there I sat in the damn thing, transfixed like a kangaroo in the headlights of a car, fearing to move a muscle.
By now you have already noticed a number of photographs taken of the countryside location of the Dam, so I will show you a little map to give you an idea of where we were.
Of course, given that most people reading this live in the USA or Canada, it ain't gonna be of much use to you, but you never know when you might be passing Australia and feel like dropping in.
As kids we were often taken on long drives in the country on the weekends. I'm not sure why because I'm sure we drove dad crazy. It did however leave me with a love for the countryside and the Maleny-Montville area is certainly one of the more beautiful places that can be found within a short distance of Brisbane. Located to the north of the city and with views of the ocean, the area is quite hilly. The Glasshouse Mountains can be seen from most locations, and they are remnants of ancient volcanoes. Their name derives from the fact that from the ocean, they reflected the sunlight and so appeared to be made of glass. My brother was kind enough on our return trip, to stop in several places to allow me to take these photos which I am presenting here today for your pleasure. Just 4 days later I was back in the area with my cousins just for the drive. We went up to Montville for breakfast at the Poets Cafe and had a bit of a 'chin-wag'.
We like to say that Australia is the lucky country, but within that country, I think the city of Brisbane is the luckiest place, because whichever direction you go, there are great scenic spots to visit, and of course, Lake Baroon where I went fishing, is one of them. We had almost no rain from 2001 to 2008 and our water supplies were down to just 5% if my memory serves me right, before we finally started getting rain. According to my brother, Lake Baroon is currently only at 40% of capacity, although given the rain we have had since the fishing trip, it has probably improved.
Tibrogargan - one of the glasshouse mountains - did I get it right? Spelling right?
Never having been on a kayak before, I did not want to take my bulky camera out on the water and more's the pity. The wildlife is spectacular. Brother did however take his pocket camera, which is how I come to have a photo of me releasing a fish. Dad would drop dead if he was still alive, to see me with my fingers in a fish's mouth.
The photo is not staged, and I am proud to say that I not only caught the first fish of the day, but caught enough to have to release one since it would have taken us over our permitted catch. I did rather well for myself actually. Three big bass (less one I let go), one something else which, while small, was a legal sized fish, and one something else, also small, which my brother dropped while getting it off the hook. I did tell you that I don't take hooks out of a fish's mouth - yes? Well I don't!
We had a good day, and my brother learned a new side of my character. While Nixon couldn't chew gum and do something or other as well at the same time, I apparently couldn't talk and peddle the kayak at the same time. And when I didn't talk, I tended to think a lot, and that too was not conducive to peddling. Oh well! You get that with beginners. At one stage we were peddling along when something struck my line. I quickly grabbed the rod and started reeling the fish in, but almost immediately the line went slack. Oh well! Doesn't matter!
Only shot of me fishing. Brother in right frame with his kayak
About 5 minutes later brother yelled: 'I got one! Bring your line in so we don't cross tangle!' As soon as I started reeling the line in, I realised that it was a bit heavy and all of a sudden the line went crazy. We both had fish on our lines. I reeled mine in but brother dropped it before he could get it in the boat. Mine was a littlie (small one), but brother lost a big one. Them's the breaks!
It was an interesting morning and well worth the effort. It's hard work watching brother load up that Kayak; sticking in the peddles, attaching the sonar, loading the storage compartment (which leaked and flooded) with all manner of strange equipment. It was equally tiring watching him dismantle it all. But I did help him lift the kayak onto the car. It was a good day, and I am thankful that my brother gave me the opportunity to go fishing. Now I can add that to a long list of things I have done and will never do again.
Next time he invites me out, I'm going to nick off with the kayak before he can load anything into it and just cruise around the lake. Much more interesting I think. Then again, if he doesn't get that dam leak fixed, I'll probably drown while strapped into my seat.
I do hope that you have enjoyed this little story about my vacation, and I hope you don't expect any more such stories.
My idea of an exciting activity is getting up from in front of the TV and going out to the swimming pool to cool off in this summer heat. But if anything exciting happens, I'll be sure to let you know about it.
R.P.BenDedek is from Brisbane Australia and is the author of 'The King's Calendar: The Secret of Qumran' at http://www.kingscalendar.com His academic articles set forth Apologetics for and results of his discovery of an "artificial chronological scheme" running through the Bible, Josephus, the Damascus Documents of the Dead Sea Scrolls, and Seder Olam Rabbah.
He writes photographic 'Stories from China' and social editorial commentaries, both at KingsCalendar, and as a contributing newspaper columnist. He currently teaches Conversational English in China and in addition to his English Lessons at KingsCalendar, he has created specific sites for Students of English.
