Men dancing the welcome to country story
Poor John and I are on a new adventure. This time it’s a 13-day overland trip in Australia’s remote Arnhem Land. Located in the northeastern corner of the Northern Territory, Arnhem Land covers about 97,000 square kilometres (37,000 square miles) and has an population of about 16,000, of which 12,000 are Aboriginal and Torres Strait Island people.
We started out yesterday in East Arnhem Land in Nhulunbuy, the region’s service hub, which was settled in the early 1970s as a mining town for bauxite.
Women and children dancing the welcome to country story
The Yolŋu culture in East Arnhem Land is possibly one of the oldest living cultures on Earth; humans are known to have lived in the region for about 60,000 years. This is also where the oldest-known stone axe of its kind was found. Scholars think it is 35,500 years old.
Today we were welcomed to country with a special ceremony at Wirrwawuy Beach. Then on to the Buku-Larrnggay Mulka Art Centre in Yirrkala. All the pictures here are from the welcome to country ceremony.
Playing the clap sticks
There’s so much more to share but it will all have to wait until later.
We leave Nhulunbuy early tomorrow morning and are likely to be out of internet range for the next 10-12 days. Have fun without me. I’ll be too busy being a tourist, so won’t have access to or a chance to visit other blogs or reply to comments.
P.S. Plus, I promise to come back and tell more about Antarctica and our trip across the South Atlantic. I’ve been sidetracked these last few months.
Didgeridoo player and male dancers
Esperanza Base on a snowy day
As the world’s windiest, coldest, iciest and driest continent, Antarctica gets less than 17 centimetres or about 6.5 inches of precipitation each year.
I reckon about one-third of that fell as snow on our second day in the Antarctic.
We woke to a good covering of snow on the decks, the promise of a zodiac cruise around Hope Bay, and a viewing of Esperanza Base.
Zodiacs were our ferries—they were used to take us ashore for landings and allow us to ‘cruise’ an area when landings weren’t possible. Our ship had 12 Zodiacs stacked in the open at the back (stern) of the ship.
Passing an iceberg on the way to Esperanza Base. Photo by Werner Kruse
This day, I think our Zodiac must have been on top of a stack. It was covered in snow and we soon realised that our waterproof pants weren’t as waterproof as they used to be.
Nevertheless, we made the most of the outing—seeing loads of gentoo penguins (geez they are tough critters) and getting a sense of the difficulties faced by those who live year-round at Esperanza Base.
A bit about Esperanza Base
Esperanza Base is unique. While it is a permanent, all-year-round Argentine research station in Hope Bay, it is also the only civilian settlement on the Antarctic mainland.
It was built in 1953 with the main purpose of giving Argentina a strong claim to Antarctic sovereignty. To that end, and in 1978, Emilio Marcos de Palma Morella was the first person born in the Antarctic (try to remember his name for a trivia night). Back then, his father was head of Argentina’s army detachment at the base. His mother, then seven months pregnant, was airlifted to the base to complete her pregnancy.
A closer look at Esperanza Base. I wonder where the tourist accommodation is. Photo by Werner Kruse
Imagine having penguins in the ‘front yard’. Photo by Werner Kruse
Wow, the extremes people use to prove a point.
These days, the base is home to about 56 inhabitants, including 10 families and two school teachers. A civil registry office records weddings and births (there have been 10 births since Emilio, but no information about how many weddings). There is a Scout troop. I wonder what badges the children can pursue—maybe shovelling snow.
Obviously, we didn’t go ashore (weather too severe), but I’ve read that there is tourist accommodation and about 1100 people visit each year.
In better weather we might have landed here, amongst the penguins
No doubt thousands of penguins also arrive each year, and the ones who were there when we visited must have been bloody cold.
I was freezing and my underwear was soaked. But I’d do it all again.
P.S. I was grateful for Werner’s (ship photographer) long telephoto lens. I have credited the pics he took.
Gentoo penguins braving the snow at Esperanza Base. Photo by Werner Kruse
Gentoo penguins heading to shore. Photo by Werner Kruse
Fur seals find plenty of things to argue about
You might remember that last November our expedition from South Africa to Argentina never made it to the Antarctic. Halfway across the South Atlantic, one of the ship’s two propellers developed a problem that forced us to sail directly to the nearest port.
That was Ushuaia, the southernmost inhabited city on earth and the main gateway to the Antarctic. As an aside, we were told that 600 Antarctic expeditions sail from Ushuaia each year.
Fort Point, our first landing in Antarctica
But in March, and with many thanks to Swan Hellenic, we repeated the trip in reverse—from Ushuaia to Cape Town—on the SH Diana. And yes, this time we made it to the Antarctic.
Once we cleared the Drake Passage, which was surprisingly calm, we arrived at Fort Point on the edge of Greenwich Island in the South Shetland Islands.
Although the South Shetland Islands are 120 kilometres from the Antarctic Peninsula, they are still considered part of the Antarctic.
This important first stop for us included a landing amongst fur seals, birds and two main kinds of penguins—chinstrap and gentoo—as well as a zodiac cruise.What a great way to start an expedition.
A bird’s eye view of Fort Point. Too high to show us traipsing around. Photo by Werner Kruse
A bit about Fort Point and surrounds
Fort Point is exactly that—an 85-metre-tall rocky point that is linked to Greenwich Island’s southeast coast by a low-lying, 700-metre-long isthmus. The point used to be called Castle Rock.
Greenwich Island, which is 143 square kilometres (55 square miles) in area, has also been called Sartorius Island and Berezina Island. Chile and Ecuador have Antarctic research stations on the northern part of the island.
A closer look at spots we can’t reach on foot
The South Shetland Islands were discovered by William Smith in 1819, when he diverted while sailing from Buenos Aries, Argentina, to Valparaiso, Chile. Other mariners and sealers may have seen these islands much earlier, but Smith’s discovery was the first to be well documented.
The South Shetlands stretch across 500 kilometres (270 miles), and include 11 major islands and more than 12 minor ones. The land area measures 3,687 square kilometres (1,424 square miles), of which 80 to 90 percent is permanently glaciated.
A chinstrap penguin with attitude
King George Island is the largest, with Livingston Island second.
Today 13 countries maintain a total of 19 research stations, with 10 of them open year-round.
P.S. Werner Kruse was the professional photographer on the ship. Not surprisingly, he had a drone and a telephoto lens as long as my arm. I have used some of his pics and given credit.
Gentoos come ashore to breed, moult and fledge their young. They look seedy on the way
Rockhopper penguins and fur seals on Nightingale Island
Our recent Antarctic expedition was a complete success. We had multiple stops and zodiac cruises in the Antarctic, South Georgia and Tristan da Cunha, as well as a rare, bonus stop at the remote Nightingale Island.
I promise to write about all of them but I’ve had an unexpected, but welcome glitch. We arrived home last Sunday afternoon. Monday the Canberra Hospital called to say there had been a cancellation and could I come in Wednesday morning for a long-awaited foot/toe surgery. Oh yes, because I thought surgery would come around in July or August.
So they knocked me out for a couple of hours on Wednesday and have, I hope, corrected a bad genetic bone structure that I was graced with at birth (thanks mum). The surgery and care have been excellent and the outcome seems positive. Now I’m recovering from an anaesthetic fog and going easy on the pain killers. I get to wear the stylish sandal 24/7 for six weeks.
In the meantime, here are pics of rockhopper penguins and fur seals on Nightingale Island, and my foot. My leg is pink thanks to antiseptics. You don’t want to see the ‘before’ x-rays of the foot.
Recovery will be at least six weeks. The cookbooks in the background won’t get much attention any time soon.
We’ll definitely see loads of icebergs. Maybe even A23A which ran aground near South Georgia.
Oh the joys of being retired and finding someone available to mind the house and dog. As a result, we have been able to rearrange life and get ourselves to South America. Tomorrow (Argentina time) we head out for another expedition to Antarctic.
We’ll be on the same ship we were on last November (the one that didn’t get to Antarctica), and doing the same route but in reverse.
That means we’ll sail out of Ushuaia and head straight to the Antarctic Peninsula. After four days exploring there, it’s on to South Georgia and then another visit to Tristan da Cunha. We’ll finish in Cape Town, South Africa near the end of the month. I won’t have access to the blog until after Tristan da Cunha, but I hope to spend the days at sea bringing together some posts.
We expect plenty of sightings of whales, penguins, seals, birds and more. We might even see Iceberg A23A, the world’s largest iceberg, that recently ran aground near South Georgia.
Our compliments and heartfelt thanks to Swan Hellenic for helping us to join this return expedition. We highly recommend their professionalism, ship, crew and customer service.
P.S. Sorry I won’t be able to follow or comment on blogs until after Tristan da Cunha. Also won’t be able to reply to comments here from later today. Cheers to all.
I wonder if these two elephant seals will still be blocking/diverting this small creek
Fur seals getting romantic on South Georgia
Our ship and some of its passengers have unexpectedly become world famous. Yes, we are on that ship. The one with a few passengers on a hunger strike because engine problems mean we miss out on all the days in Antarctica. Bummer.
You can read one of the many newspaper articles about it here. You can check youtube.com as well. Search for hunger strike ship.
Of course, everyone on the ship is disappointed, but by law a faltering ship cannot sail into even more remote waters.
Thank goodness the Petrel is not our ship! Long ago abandoned on South Georgia
Luckily we managed to visit Tristan da Cunha, the most remote inhabited island in the world, and a bit of South Georgia. To soften the blow of the disappointment, we were all given free internet access that allows me to post to the blog. So I’m sharing a few pics now and will write much more later.
P.S. I think it’s down to one hunger striker. Also we have a few journalists on board but everyone is still trying to figure out who posted the initial story in The Times.
It’s not really a headless king penguin. Just one with an itchy bum
Striking Bird of Paradise flowers we saw today in the Company Gardens in Cape Town
Sorry to have been so quiet on the blog. Lots of reasons, mostly laziness and distractions. Here’s hoping for a change.
Poor John and I spent today exploring in Cape Town, South Africa. Tomorrow we set sail on an expedition ship across the South Atlantic. Stops are Tristan de Cunha, South Georgia, the Antarctic Peninsula, and Ushuaia, Argentina.
We’ve been to the Antarctic and Ushuaia before, but Tristan de Cunha (the most remote island in the world) and South Georgia (home to countless species of wildlife) have been dream destinations for me.
Sadly, internet will be limited (for example, no email) on the ship unless I pay an extra US$500. Even then it is still limited. Not sure blogs and photos can be posted. I’m trying to decide what to do. The family might like to hear from us.
So don’t worry if you don’t hear from me for the next three weeks. Consider your posts liked and commented upon. If I cough up the dollars, you may see more of me. Either way, I plan to get back to blogging in December. So much to tell.
Shown below is the route we take.
Starting in Cape Town, then travelling west to Tristan de Cunha, and then southwest to South Georgia and Antartica, and finally north to Ushuaia
Six horses out of the gate with the city in the background
We didn’t come to Mauritius to go to the horse races, but we did exactly that on our last full day in the country.
It’s not all that surprising given that our hotel room overlooked the nation’s main racetrack, the Champ de Mars. In fact, our hotel has the same name. Every morning we watched the horses train.
Racing got started in Port Louis, the nation’s capital, in the early 1800s. The English, who conquered the island in 1810, decided the social atmosphere of horse racing might help to win over the French settlers, and bring peace and harmony after years of fighting.
It must have had some positive effect. The island is mainly French and Creole-speaking, although everyone seems to manage in English too. And the races are still going, with the largest crowd of 100,000 in 1984.
Events are every Saturday from 10am to 4pm. After a half-day of sightseeing, we arrived in time to see the last three races. We started on the hotel side of the track and I took photos from the rail. Virtually nothing between me and the horses.
At the rail on the hotel side of the track with hills in the background
Then we walked around to the main entrance and through the crowds placing bets and buying food and drink (lots of Phoenix, the local beer, on offer). We even joined the hoards and wandered into the ‘winner’s circle’, ignoring the sign that said ‘officials and press only beyond this gate’. Not sure we lived up to the rules on dress code either.
Once again I could stand virtually trackside, while Poor John sat in the stands.
The photos and map show that the track is close to the centre of town and partially surrounded by hills. That last pic was taken from 5th floor of our hotel on Sunday. If you look closely you might see a couple of joggers on the dirt training track.
A map of the race track. Our hotel is the pink dot.
My history with horse racing
Mary McGraw introduced me to horse racing when I was 12. Mary was one of my parents dearest friends. Her husband, John, worked with my dad at the Army Corps of Engineers. Dad was the civilian pilot for the Corps.
Mary was devoted to betting on the ponies which raced during the summer months every year in Nebraska. I never went to the races with her in Omaha (children not allowed), but she took me as a companion when she went to other towns. She was afraid of being alone, heights and lightening. Her brother was struck and killed by lightening.
Our first outing was to Lincoln, Nebraska’s capital, where 12-year-olds could enter the track and even place bets. Every day Mary gave me $2 to bet and told me which horse to bet on. I think the winnings from those bets paid for a lot of my college education.
Cantering past the finish line. The building is outside the track
I still remember the last race of one day. I had $2 on horse 8 in the ninth. It trailed for most of the race and then charged home to win. I was jumping up and down, yelling ‘its winning, it’s winning’. Without looking up from the racing form, Mary simply said, ‘I know’.
Mary taught me how to read and analyse a racing form, as well as a system for betting. She also taught me the importance of visiting the stalls and having a chat with the jockeys. One day, Mary announced that her betting days were over and she was never returning to the track. She decided that the track had become crooked, and that no amount of study and research would overcome that.
As an indication of her success, in 1960, Mary made $10,000 during Nebraska’s summer track season. Her tax return listed ‘professional gambler’ as her job.
The view from our hotel with the city in the background and two tiny joggers
A loaf of warm bread falls from a conveyor belt
Loaves get put in plastic bags, while new loaves shoot down
It’s a good thing we love bread and aren’t on a low-carb diet. Ever since our trip through Arabia began in November there has been bread on the table for virtually every meal.
I’m not talking about a little bit of bread, but loads and loads of bread. You don’t even have to order it in a restaurant. Whatever you choose automatically comes with bread. If there are four people at the table, you’ll get four loaves of flat, round pocket bread. After you’ve eaten two, four more loaves usually arrive.
Luckily, leftover bread isn’t wasted. At one truck stop we saw a huge tarpaulin covered in leftover loaves being dried for animal feed.
We’ve lived or travelled in about 15 Middle Eastern countries, and bread has been revered in all of those places. But my first introduction to this obsession was in Cairo where bread is called ‘aish’ in colloquial Egyptian Arabic, which literally means ‘life’. In the rest of the Arab world, bread is known as ‘khubz’.
I thought you might like to see some of the different breads we have enjoyed. My favourite pics are a series from a supermarket bakery in Medina, Saudi Arabia. I’ve shared three pics here (and took many more).
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed bread falling from the ceiling. Hang on, then I realised the warm, just-baked loaves were dropping from an overhead conveyor belt. A fellow was catching them and packing them into bags of 6 loaves. Many customers waited to be handed a bag of fresh, warm bread. I could have stood there all day watching the process, and was glad the fellow said it was okay to take pictures. I even went back a second time and caught a pic of two loaves falling together.
.P.S. I’ve written about bread quite often before. Here’s a piece about roti in India and one about Russian black bread on my cooking blog.
Every now and then two loaves fall together. Notice his smiling eyes
Where to next? 