The heat is constant, a searing, blinding heat with the surrounding scrub and bush providing little in the way of shade. I swat away a fly but another takes it's place, then another and another. How many constitute a swarm? The sand stretches away on all sides, brilliant white in the middle of the day, a subtler shade of beige now that the sun is lower in the sky. How long have I been out here? 2, 3 days? Check my watch - it's still working. Christ, it's only been 4 hours. When did I last eat? Not hungry anyway, must be the heat. Some days, I've been living on coffee and nicotine. Must drink water. Only a drop or two left now at the bottom of the bottle, warm and stale, enough to coat the back of my throat but no more. What's that in the distance, a hint of green? Oasis? Shade? Mirage? Rub my tired eyes. Try to focus again. Definitely something. Must find the strength. What'll it take to get there? Did I say that out loud? The answer comes...
"Just one more good five-iron, two putts and we'll be sipping a cold one in the pool before you can say Woolabonga mate!"
Yep, life sure is tough down under, playing golf without a cart.
I've been in Australia for almost two weeks now but in truth, I've only spent one night out in the outback. First stop was Perth on one side of the country and have just spent my last night in Sydney on the other side.
Perth is a warm, welcoming, windy city with a relatively small downtown area and a large and very neat suburban metropolis surrounding it, hundreds of Ramsay Streets fanning out in every direction. In fact it reaches the neighbouring port of Fremantle (or Freemo, as they say here) a place famous for producing the first boat ever to beat the USA in the Americas Cup back in 1983. In order to defend the cup in 1986, millions of dollars were poured into the community and it's now a very smart, laid back town with markets, museums and coffee shops galore. And while we're on the subject, how come Switzerland is the current holder of the Americas Cup? I mean… Switzerland?My one venture out into the wild was an overnight camping jaunt north to a geological oddity called The Pinnacles, a round trip of some 300 miles. I booked it through one of the many backpacker travel agents that abound here and was assisted in this by one of those energetic, over-enthusiastic guys who look like they've jumped out of a plane and wrestled a crocodile before breakfast.
"OW'RE YOU GOIN' MATE?" he screams at me as I cross the threshold.
"Well I'm using my legs and feet to get around on… you know… FOOT and later on I'll be getting a train home," I reply dryly.
"Eh, right. Nice one," he continues, regardless. "So what's your name then?"
After telling him he says, "Aw great. Good English name, that."
"Scottish," I correct him coldly as my fist connects with his jaw releasing a torrent of blood... or would have done had I been able to release my arms from the straps of my backpack.
The trip itself is very good and includes a visit to a brewery/winery, sunset at The Pinnacles (tall sand and limestone pillars jutting out of the desert sands), tents and songs by the campfire, sandsurfing down some huge dunes and swimming in the Indian Ocean. It's all conducted by Terry, a huge bear of a man (more grizzly than koala), who drives his four wheel drive truck with a passion and is never shy to tell us that he needs to pull over "cause I'm bursting on a shit." He also thinks that the best way to rouse us from our slumber at 5.30am is to march round the campsite belching and farting. Strangely though, if you listen quite closely, there's a haunting, melodic quality to it. Must be an aboriginal thing!It's only when I get back from what seems like quite a long trip and check the map that I start to get a sense of how big this country is. It's absolutely huge! Imagine getting into your car in Glasgow and driving to, say Rome, only you'd not see many people and you'd pass through only a handful of towns on the way. That's like driving half way across Australia.
Sydney has a different feel to the laid back atmosphere of Perth. Bigger, obviously with a real buzz about the place, as Paul McStay used to say. It's more like London or New York; continually on the go although like Perth (and most great cities I suppose) it does its recreational spaces very, very well. Lovely waterfront full of bars, restaurants and shops and some beautiful parks only a short nine iron away from the city centre skyscrapers. I've been on the harbour ferries and travelled out of town to see the Blue Mountains but there's nothing to beat just wandering around Sydney, stopping for coffee (or anything else you might be "bursting on") and drinking in the views. I was tempted to do the 150 dollar Harbour Bridge climb but settled instead for the zero dollar Harbour Bridge stroll.So, I hear that Christmas is coming. I know this because I've finally started to see decorations and trees and slightly sweaty Santas in the street but it doesn't FEEL like Christmas at all. That was until I went to see 'Christmas With The Sydney Symphony' in the concert hall of the Sydney Opera House. This is really something. Outside, the harbour waves lap up on the rocks, the clink of champagne glasses ripple the air and the building is beautifully illuminated against the night sky. Inside, the Symphony play a variety of classical pieces (some of which I actually recognise), a solo sopranoist sings a selection of arias and a huge choir of children sing Christmas carols, old and new. (I was tempted to insert a Cliff Richard lyric here but thought better of it.) I come away from the concert thinking that if there's a more simple or beautiful melody than 'Silent Night' then I've yet to hear it.
It's a great concert and is almost as good, not quite, but almost as good as seeing Robbie Williams two nights later at the Aussie Stadium on the last night of his world tour. If there's a better opening song to a gig than "Let Me Entertain You" then I've yet to hear it. Answers on a postcard please. He's got two bands supporting him, Machine Gun Fellatio (OUCH!) who are crap and Duran Duran who are excellent. They've got all the original members back and despite being in their mid-forties, can still get away with singing 'Wild Boys' without much embarrassment.Anyway, now that I can feel Christmas coming I've had to rethink my Christmas card/greetings strategy. I had such a simple yet brilliant plan. I was going to have my picture taken on Bondi Beach in nothing but my skimpy Speedos and a Santa hat (I even bought the hat) and after five minutes on the pc, I could dispatch Christmas greetings to you all and return smartly to the beach without missing a beat. No stamps, no post office visits, not much writing... the definition of efficient, 21st century communication. However, I realise now that that kind of misses the point - misses it, in fact, by some considerable margin so I'll be revamping the strategy to ensure that Christmas greetings have a far more personal or individual feel.
And yes, okay, I admit it. This George Bailey sentimentality was further fuelled by going to see "Love Actually" at the movies... the absolute definition of a twenty first century chick flick. It's over the top and ridiculous at times (Hugh Grant is Prime Minister for God's sake) but it caught me with my usual, cynical guard down.
And now to local news. Since I've been in Australia, there's been quite a debate gathering in the media as to whether politicians should be subjected to random breath tests, not while they're in their cars, but while they're at work! This follows an incident where the leader of the Democrats in the Senate verbally and physically assaulted another Senate member on the floor of the Senate itself. He is currently taking time off "to seek help in addressing personal health issues". I would have let this stereotypical Aussie incident slide if I hadn't been bombarded with advertising for what looks like being the top cd stocking filler this Christmas - "The Absolute Best Beer Drinking Songs Album In The World... Volume 2"! Classic!
Anyway, later today I fly north to tropical Queensland, Cairns to be exact and the Great Barrier Reef. I'm going to find out how to surf, find out how to explore the reefs and then find bloody Nemo.
And finally, in case you're wondering, Dunrobin is the ancestral home of the Sutherland clan and is located near Golspie in the north of Scotland. Come for a visit some time and I'll make sure my people (clan brethren and the help) look after you big style. It's well worth it.
http://www.clansutherland.org/FrDunrobin.htm
Till next time.
Love, Neil x
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