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exumenius

170 Blog Entries
2 Trips
477 Photos

Trips:

Down Under trip Preparation
Kiwis and Kangaroos

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Manning the Forge - Night 14

Stanthorpe, Australia

By noon we had finished grading and laying red granite along the short, 150 meter trail. My primary chore today was assessing the natural drainage of the area and digging in the woo-boys (Australian slang for drainage channel). While most of trail work is rough and physical, drainage installation is more of a fine art, a nice change of pace from Tuesday’s time spent behind the wheelbarrow. All told, our first trail building exercise as a team was a major success. The owner was pleased with our work, which he had though would take us all week to complete. Having finished so soon, we enjoyed an early and lengthy lunch and did little in the afternoon except scout out the next trail to be completed.

Upon returning to the homestead following a short bush walk, Adrian was busy preparing a small forging demonstration for us. All of his smiting (or blacksmithing) is done on small charcoal forges in which the air is fed by hand crank. Starting with one burning ember, he added some old charcoal from his hot water heater and within minutes had a roaring bed of coals hot enough to melt a ½ inch steel rod. In fact, these small forges get so hot that you have to be careful not to burn the steel. His demonstration was comprised of him making a few large nails out of the steel rods. Nails are something we take for granted these days, but just 150 years ago they were very valuable things, so much so that many people would burn their house down when moving just to collect the nails (or so we were told). After he quickly formed a few large nails, it was now our turn at the forges. I’ll say this much, it is harder than it looks, especially forming a properly centered head on the nail. We all struggled for a bit, some of us making what could possibly be usable nails, given a skilled enough carpenter. In addition, he has allowed us use of the forges for the remainder of the week to entertain any creative fancy we may come across. After a bit of time, Adrian returned and quickly showed us how to make some ornamental leafs and arrow heads, not than any of us are skilled enough to copy this in the future. His wife then brought out a scrapbook containing photos of various items he has constructed over the years, as well as the numerous awards he has one. Swords, helmets, swings, garden tools, pots, pans, the list goes on; certainly a talented man.

In the late afternoon dark clouds gathered in the horizon, as much needed rain was approaching. Out here every drop matters and not an inch of the rooftops at Dragonweyr allow the precious water to escape. Their water tanks are nearly half empty, so the more the better tonight. This storm is especially well timed in that it allows us to the check the quality of our drainage systems along the newly constructed trail. I hope they all hold and we are not forced to do a major reconstruction project tomorrow morning. As we began to put on our extra rain flys and tarps over our tents we discovered we were a few tent stakes short. Not ten minutes later, Adrian had six new tent stakes for us fresh off the forge.

The rain held off until we were eating dinner, it poured down on us for about ten minutes and then stopped. A bit later a slower gentler rain took over. A good slow rain when sleeping in a tent is very soothing thing.

What I Learned Today: Technology has distanced us from many of the things that are so vital to our survival. This is not a new revelation for me, rather one so recently reinforced by our little blacksmithing demonstration today. We all use forged components each day of our life, but until now I hadn’t the slightest clue how much work forming a garden hoe or a nail, for that matter, once was. It makes the masterpieces of old that much more impressive. Blacksmithing is a dying art (though reviving in some circles) and some would say that is all for the best, however, I, for one, am glad that there are those who are keeping the old arts and trades alive, not only because they are enjoyable to learn and partake in, but also because they just might come in handy in the post-oil world.


permalink written by  exumenius on October 24, 2007 from Stanthorpe, Australia
from the travel blog: Kiwis and Kangaroos
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Day Trip to Stanthorpe - Night 13

Stanthorpe, Australia

I awoke to a brisk morning at Dragonweyr. Team Leader John was already up and watching a group of parrots frolic in the bushes. These large, noisy beasts are quite beautiful. Bright red in color with long blue tail feathers, they are also rather good at eluding an amateur photographer such as myself.

Our task for this first week here would be to take a small 500-foot path through the woods and turn it into a meter-wide hiking highway full of stairs and topped with crushed red granite. Work on this job began very well and ended the same. The team easily split into groups of two, some charging ahead to clear a meter wide path, other pulling up all the rocks and some of us staying back to build the stairs and lay the gravel. Most of my morning was spent behind a wheelbarrow bringing load upon load of gravel down unto the path. It reminded me of wheeling concrete back during my Miron days. In the afternoon, a new line of wheelers took over and I switched to building stairs out of rocks. The bedrock here is exposed in many places and consists primarily of weathered rhyolite that is horizontally stratified. This is very good for trail building, as large flat stones are very commonly strewn about and are easily laid into place as steps for the trail. Lifting and moving rocks all day we came across a number of centipedes, scorpions and geckos, not to mention plenty of non-venomous spiders.

We finished up around 2:30 and packed up and headed into town for some supplies. Stanthorpe is about a 30 minute drive from Dragonweyr, just long enough to air out our stinky bodies. My main goal in town was to find some sandals after my mishap on the train last weekend. Though Stanthorpe is a small farming town it has a very nice downtown shopping district, including a Target Country, the store’s small town, main street type store. Inside I found some sandals and assorted toiletries for half the price of what we had been paying in Brisbane. Shopping here almost makes Australian prices seem reasonable. While we were in town we also stocked up on beer for the week. The rules of our volunteer program strictly prohibit alcohol on the job, but our team leader allows it in moderation, so long as everyone behaves and no one tells the superiors. A 30-pack of Carlton Mid (my second favorite Aussie brew to date, behind Toohey’s New) was had for $40.

After our pasta dinner we all sat around the table and played two truths and one lie, a camping game where each person has to tell two true things and one lie about themselves and the others have to guess which one is the lie. It is a great way to learn strange nuances about other people you have just met.

What I Learned Today: Our group, and likely all humans in general, enjoys working to a much greater extent when there is a clear goal in sight and progress is easily visible. Last week while cutting cat’s claw at Reedy Creek Ranch, morale was fairly low as there was no end in sight and progress was tough to monitor. Here at Dragonweyr, our goals are easily marked and the visualization of progress is quite obvious. As a result, everyone worked much harder today and the time passed much more quickly. I think we are all looking forward to the next two weeks of work, rather than dreading them.


permalink written by  exumenius on October 23, 2007 from Stanthorpe, Australia
from the travel blog: Kiwis and Kangaroos
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Driving to Dragonweyr - Night 12

Stanthorpe, Australia

8am scheduled departures for all three volunteer groups caused madness about the house this morning. Just minutes after all our bags were packed into the trailer a rogue cloud arrived and dumped about 15 minutes worth of rain, forcing us to scramble about in search of a tarp. Shortly after 8 we were on the road for our 3.5 hour drive down to the Stanthorpe area. The drive took us up over the Main Range unto the drier plateau of inland Queensland .
Our intended destination was the Dragonweyr Reserve, and this time we made it without taking any unintentional detours. The reserve is a private land holding that has voluntarily placed itself under the Queensland Conservation Act of 1992. Adrian Hobba, the owner, is a retiree who runs blacksmithing schools out of the backyard of the place. The Hobbas have a nice little homestead which is entirely solar powered.
We pitched our tents on the lawn and had a nice lunch consisting of sausages and salad, provided by the Hobbas. A small crew of Green Corps members was also onsite today assessing trail needs. Their team leader, Rob, was quite an interesting bloke and gave me some good ideas on places to go down in Tasmania.
By the time we were set up and finished eating it was almost 2pm so the remainder of the day was free for exploration. The group took a small bush walk down to the local swimming hole, which wasn’t much more that a large mud puddle. Most of Australia has been in a 5-year drought, and the Dragonweyr Reserve is no exception.
In the evening we had a good meal of chili and rice. After dinner the crew played a few rousing games of spoons. Night comes on quick and cool up here on the plateau and I was glad to have my 15 degree rated sleeping bag.
What I Learned Today: While my relative internal compass remains fully operational, my absolute one is entirely messed up. I went for a small solo bush walk today and easily found my way back, however I thought I was heading east the entire time when in fact I was going west. I continually looked down at my compass in disbelief. The sun seems to rise in the west and set in the east. It must be the fact that the sun’s arc is backwards and that I am much closer to the equator than I am used to (27 degrees latitude)

permalink written by  exumenius on October 22, 2007 from Stanthorpe, Australia
from the travel blog: Kiwis and Kangaroos
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A Day at Redcliffe Beach - Night 11

Brisbane, Australia

Daniel and I awoke at 4am to watch the pre-game for the Rugby World Cup Final in Paris between England and South Africa. The Springboeks (as the Africans are known) were favorites over the Pomies. Being that half of the house is English, I had no choice but vehemently root for the South African squad. Having never watched a rugby game before and thus having no concept of the rules or strategies, the pre-game commentators could have been talking about quantum physics in Greek for all I understood. The game began with a quick score by the Springboeks and at half time it was 9-3, South Africa in the lead. The British blokes were constantly trying to convince me that the hits were bigger and the players better than American Football athletes. I remain unconvinced. However, I will admit that playing without hardly any pads means that the hits probably hurt more, but as far as being harder, not a chance. The rules of rugby allow for some specialization (i.e. some guys do most of the kicking, others the tackling) but not to the level of American Football. Also, players are in on both offense and defense, so there is a much greater endurance factor. In sum, the players are great athletes no doubt, but the speed isn’t quite the same as an American Football game. The most disappointing thing about the sport is the number of subjective calls by the referee and the large impact they have on the game. Twelve of South Africa’s fifteen points came off of free kicks after penalties, the same for six of England’s nine points. To me it seemed like the referee had too much influence on the flow of the game.

Today was Lorelei’s birthday, so her, Daniel and I hopped a train up to Redcliffe for the day. An hour later and $8.60 poorer we arrived in Redcliffe, a small beach community, that, quite surprisingly, was the first permanent European settlement in Queensland (originally a penal colony for the worst of the worst from New South Wales) and one of the places the honorable Captain James Cook landed back in the day. The name is derived from the strange, spongish red rock formations that dot the beach. To properly celebrate Lorelei’s birthday, we had a pair of breakfast beers and then crossed the street to the beach. As is the case every Sunday, a small market was taking place and in the rear was a bit of live music. The solo musician, Juzzie Smith – who is truly a one-man band as his advertisement suggests – was hard at work on the harmonica, banjo, tambourine, snare, and didgeridoo (an Australian horn instrument made from hollowed out tree trunk.) His music is a tribal-folk hybrid and actually very good. Lorelei bought a CD for us to rip to my computer upon arriving home.

After our beers, we prompted strolled down to the beach, which was empty, ate lunch and fell asleep in the warm sand. An hour later, we went for a walk down the beach for a mile or so and eventually caught the bus back into Sandgate where we met the train bound for Albion.

At the house we had a small birthday party for Lorelei and afterwards wandered around suburban Brisbane until we finally found a pub that was open on a Sunday night. We were all pretty knackered and after a solo beer the group walked back home.

I had my first major casualty of the trip today. Before heading to the beach I packed my sandals into the side compartment of my day bag. Upon arriving at the beach, only one sandal had made the entire trip. Somewhere between Albion and Redcliffe my left sandal flew the coop.

What I Learned Today: Simple pleasures like digging in the sand or watching the surf eat your footprints never cease to please me. Something about turning off our neocortex (our wonderful mammal minds) and letter our older, simpler reptilian brains take over is one of the most efficient and enjoyable ways to relax.


permalink written by  exumenius on October 21, 2007 from Brisbane, Australia
from the travel blog: Kiwis and Kangaroos
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Failure in the City - Night 10

Brisbane, Australia

I had a checklist of tasks to do and sights to see in the city today. However, in the end, my visions of accomplishment were left unrealized as the great wheel of fate aligned with the stars to conspire against me.

Me and the 5 British folk jumped the 10:45 into the city. Following a brief venture down Queen Street Mall, we dispersed, each going our own separate way. My first stop was the old Treasury Building, which had recently been turned into a casino and 5-star hotel. My intent was not to gamble, but to merely check out the place and see of what casino life down under was all about. I made it no farther than the door when I was told in no uncertain terms that anyone wearing sandals was not allowed. Strike one.

I wandered from there down to the Botanical Gardens, a massive spread that occupies the entire west end of the triangular shape plot of land that downtown Brisbane is built upon. The Gardens are a very nice place, though the interpretive signs could use some improvement for us visitors who are not at all familiar with the local flora. Nonetheless, the royal palms and various varieties of root-dropping fig trees are most impressive. From here I walked clear across downtown to the Roma Street parkland, another large botanical setting located just north of the main train station. The Roma Street greenspace functions more as a picnic park than anything and being Saturday it was filled to the brim with barbecuers and people watchers. I am finding that Brisbane, as a city, has one of the nicer set of parks of anywhere I have been, Paris aside.

Post Roma Street Parkland I ventured down Milton Street past Suncorp Stadium, the large rugby and cricket venue on the east side of town. This monstrosity rivals the large sporting stadiums found throughout the United States. Past Suncorp was the equally large XXXX Brewery. After some trouble locating the entrance, I found that it was only open for tours Monday through Friday. Strike Two. Rather than walk the few miles back to the city I waited for the train at the Milton Street station. Arriving back in town, I had originally planned to visit the Queensland State Museum, but with my luck today it probably required jacket and tie dress or had burned down in the middle of the night. Defeated, I decided to do my shopping and head home. The soap and toothpaste were easy finds, but I’ll be damned if any store in Brisbane carries a flyswatter. My plan was to be the savior on our next trip to the outback, but instead I wound up the fool, running to and fro in search of this non-existent piece of plastic. When I asked the clerk at Crazy Clark’s Discount Store (basically a Dollar General) if they had any, her look told me that either I don’t know the Australian word for flyswatter or they have yet to be invented over here. Strike Three

Back at the house, we had originally planned to go out at midnight to watch the finals of the rugby world cup, but a last minute time zone calculation discovered that the game was on at 4am not midnight. We all went to bed a bid defeated, though none as deeply as I. Strike Four.

What I Learned Today: Throughout most of my adolescent and adult life, hanging out with friends meant drinking, gambling, or otherwise leaving the house to spend money somewhere. I don’t say this as an admission of my degeneracy, but rather to indicate my usual expectations of time with friends. Being with a bunch of travelers, who like me are on a strict daily allowance, has opened my eyes a bit to the art of hanging out and not spending money, or drinking for that matter. There is a certain art to simply and cheaply existing in the presence of others and I fear I am sadly underdeveloped in this area. I hope this trip will cure me of this ailment.


permalink written by  exumenius on October 20, 2007 from Brisbane, Australia
from the travel blog: Kiwis and Kangaroos
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Thoreau, Rousseau, Laundry? - Night 9

Brisbane, Australia

The crew was packed and ready to go and we were on the road home by 8am. At our gasoline stop in Toowoomba, a few of the group grabbed brekky (breakfast) at Hungry Jack’s, the Australian Burger King. I spent a good deal of the ride rereading the beginning of Thoreau’s Walden. I truly doubt a better piece of literature was ever penned by man. It is a good thing my Varorium edition includes notes, as some of his rather esoteric references would be lost on a common man such as myself. Timeless wisdom all presented in a delicious, verbose, yet readable prose.

Back at the house by noon. I spent the afternoon doing laundry and catching up on my journal entries. A major breakthrough was had,


Brisbane Skyline
when I realized that if I sit in the farthest part of the back yard I can steal wireless from the neighbors. No more paying or waiting inline for internet use.

The house grew by two, as we gained a pair of volunteers; Lorelei, a young British girl on a two week holiday from school and Wu Huwmiyg-sometime, a deathly quiet older Korean woman. Daniel and I had a 007 and Mario-Kart tournament in the oft-unused game room. I was soundly defeated at both games.

What I Learned Today: Rousseau was right when he complained about favors becoming burdens. I am more than happy to let all use my computer for downloading photos and internet use - that is why I brought it. However, the old, weird Swedish woman has rightfully abused my good grace and has become the burden Jean-Jacques spoke of. I suppose the moral of the story is that in future I hope that I can retain the humility to receive gifts and acts of grace, but also remain thankful enough so that the giver finds me not a burden.


permalink written by  exumenius on October 19, 2007 from Brisbane, Australia
from the travel blog: Kiwis and Kangaroos
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Still Miles to Go - Night 8

Miles, Australia

During the night a warm wind howled and by morning it was noticeably cooler and there were even clouds in the sky. I hadn’t seen a cloud since the day I landed. The flies had blown in as well. Though they had been bothersome during the first part of the week, they were poised to reach epic levels of annoyance today. Luckily by 9 am we had progressed our cat’s claw cutting up to the junction of the two creeks, our decided upon goal. Back to the ranch for our morning tea break (in which I never partake) and then packing for the trip back.

Due to the incredibly long drive ahead of us,


Miles Caravan Park
John booked us into a caravan park in Miles, a small town about half way home. We bid adieu to Reedy Creek Ranch around 10am and hit the highway, or rather the dirt track and headed south. A quick lunch of leftovers in Taroom, and we coasted into Miles around the 2 o’clock hour. Our caravan park had very nice, nearly new trailers that slept 4-5 people each. Complete with a toilet, shower, fridge and microwave, this was luxury, especially to a group of tired, thirsty volunteers who had spent the last week sleeping on a rotting wooden veranda.

It was only 2:30, but since it was 5 o’clock somewhere (in Fiji, we decided) it was time to head to the pub. I tried to explain to them that it was past noon and the time travel alcohol accounting measures were not needed, but Aussies are nothing if not stubborn. Our choice of pubs was limited to the Hotel Aussie or the Australian VFW Club. As we filed into the Hotel Aussie, the population of the joint tripled. A few solitary patrons came and went during the course of the day, but we had the run of the place. Much like small town America, small town Australia is breathing its death knell. The Hotel Aussie appeared to have once been the crown jewel of a thriving cattle town on Queensland tablelands. Now it is merely a refuge for stop-offs on the road from Darwin to Brisbane. A place for road train drivers needing a beer to hold them over until they reach the coast. A large dining room in the rear of the joint had probably seen its last use sometime during the Reagan administration (not knowing any Australian political history, I need to reference our own for such temporal comparisons).

An interesting fellow named Jimmy Rawlins decided to join us. To put it lightly, Jimmy was drunker than shit, and by the looks of it had been for some years. Fifty-two to be exact. Or so he told us. He introduced himself to each of us and tried to spark up conversation. I wouldn’t say it was English he was speaking, no, it was more of a pidgin dialect, a cross between Creole, Eurasian sign language and Morse Code. Our attempts to ignore him proved surprisingly successful and he soon stumbled to the other end of the horseshoe shaped bar to blabber at and spit on a foreign looking couple who had just order a round of drinks.

I was drinking Carlton Mid, a step up from the piss Victoria Bitter we had swindled from the owner of the Ranch. The others were swilling XXXX Gold, the Bud Light of Queensland. Out of kindness to our wallets, we grabbed a few sixers of Gold to go and headed back to the caravan park. Although Australia has a certain stigma as a land of drinkers, it is awful difficult to procure alcohol in this place. Only certain stores and bars are allowed to sell carryout beer and you would never find it at a super market or convenience store. What a bloody shame.

After playing a few rounds of cards back in our trailer, we loaded up the troupee and drove the three blocks to the Australian VFW for dinner. This place was an exact replica of the Fox Ballroom in Cecil, WI. A small bar as you enter leading you to the dining room in the rear. You ordered your meat and then had full access to a small salad bar. The customers all seemed to know each other, and likely had been coming here and sitting in the same spot for years. In order to get a beer in this joint, visitors like ourselves had to sign in and give our place of residence. I had the grilled barramundi, which tasted a bit like underseasoned cod, the salad bar, however, was ample. On our way out the door, who was standing there but Jimmy Rawlins….I guess the man gets around (to all two pubs).

As the pubs closed up at 9, we returned again to the trailers for some cards. By 11 all were in bed.

What I Relearned Today: Alcohol is an amazing social lubricant. Though we had all gotten along very well up until this point, after our first night out together everyone became quite a bit better friends. Group dynamics just seems to flow better after a night of drinking.


permalink written by  exumenius on October 18, 2007 from Miles, Australia
from the travel blog: Kiwis and Kangaroos
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Climbing Pomerica Peak - Night 7

Taroom, Australia

Today was the hottest day yet and with team morale appearing to reach a new low last night, I was a bit worried about the crew. However, a little after our morning start we started to come into an area in which the cat’s claw was much thinner and going much easier. Spirits lifted and by lunch time everyone was in a rather jovial mood.


Pomerica Peak
Following a short nap after work, the Expedition Team (Daniel, Aaron and I) prepared to make the first ever ascent of the unnamed collection of rocks that I had scouted out the other morning. While it is certain we wouldn’t be the first people to summit this small hill, there were no trails leading up to it, nor had the rangers ever been there, so for us these two circumstances were plenty enough to consider it a daring first ascent. A bit of bouldering and a few changes of direction later we were standing upon the top of the hill (which Daniel so eloquently

Affixing the Flag
named Pomerica Peak. For some reason the Brits are called Pomies, added to America gave him Pomerica…good enough for Aaron and I). The ascent took only 45 minutes and according to my Garmin was only .83 miles from the homestead, nonetheless, the views from the top were moving. This east face of the rock wall is some 50 to 70 feet straight up, with some deep inner slots. The rocks, which appear to be very old, are cleaving off the main hill, leaving what are some decent climbing faces. Back at camp we had decided to take one of the bright green Conservation Volunteer Association vests to plant at the top as a flag. Much to our luck, at the very easternmost point of the peak stood a large prickly pear tree (an invasive species from the American Southwest). We signed and date the make-shift flag and with a little help from some pilfered electrical tape affixed the flag to the prickly pear. Upon returning to the ranch, we were pleased to discover that in the

The Conquering Heros
right light one can see the flag from the veranda. Now we just need to hope that some passing ranger plane doesn’t see the vest and think it an SOS flag from some poor fool stranded on the hill. Oh well, by the time that happens, we’ll all be safely back in our home countries.

What I Learned Today: America’s refusal to switch to the metric system is negatively affecting my travel experience. I find myself having to convert everything to metric before I can speak about anything. My mind is full of .62s, 2.2s, divide by 5/9 and add 32s, etc. The metric system is so easy, all you do is move the decimal point. Seriously, who knows how many cups are in a gallon?



permalink written by  exumenius on October 17, 2007 from Taroom, Australia
from the travel blog: Kiwis and Kangaroos
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Shining for Gliders - Night 6

Taroom, Australia


Napping in the Hammock
Northwest of the ranch lies a small hill with an impressive rock outcropping sprouting from its zenith. Daniel, Aaron and I decided that we would attempt to climb this less than alpine peak Wednesday after work. Thus, my morning walk today served as a scouting mission to determine the most appropriate course from which to approach the climb. Having the most climbing experience of the group, they trust my ‘expert’ judgment. After hiking to the eastern edge of the forest, I determined that a southerly approach would be quickest and easiest…and our route is set. On the return to camp I am surprised at how loud, yet peaceful this place is. The cacophony of the birds makes an absolute ruckus in the morning, however, it is a good noise, a natural noise, a calming noise. So unlike the noise of traffic rushing to and fro. It truly places one’s soul at ease…out here in the bush, concerns of the modern world sort of melt away, my concentration is on my walk and deep contemplation ensues. Now back to work.

In order to better monitor what areas have been finished, the rangers added blue or pink dye to our spray bottles of roundup. By the end of the day I am covered in blue and pink like a cross between a fierce Maori warrior and one of those androgynous Teletubbies.

After dusk (and after we had engulfed heaping plates of spaghetti) the rangers took us out “shining for gliders.” Basically this is like shining for deer, but instead you shine up into the trees hoping to spot the glowing eyes of flying squirrels. Following much ado and a long drive Nathanial finally located a yellow-bellied glider up high in a dead Gum tree. A few more kilometers and a few more gliders


Giving the Brits What They Deserve
and we were all about done with this little adventure. It was certainly interesting, but the little beasts, once mesmerized by the spotlight tend to curl up and stay put so it is difficult to actually catch them in the act of gliding from tree to tree. Our final total for the night: 5 yellow-bellied gliders, 0 great silver gliders, 6 rabbits and one television sitting out in the middle of the forest.

What I Learned Today: We are incredibly adaptable beings. At first I viciously swatted at every harvest fly that came near me. Now two days later I barely flinch unless on venture near my eyes or mouth. Given the necessity, we can teach ourselves to endure just about anything. (as if a few flies is anything compared to the daily tribulations of so many of the world’s less fortunate souls).


permalink written by  exumenius on October 16, 2007 from Taroom, Australia
from the travel blog: Kiwis and Kangaroos
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Cat's Claw Fever - Night 5

Taroom, Australia

As usual I was up at dawn. Along my morning walk, I kicked up numerous wallabies and two large grey kangaroos who had come near the homestead in order to drink from the retaining pond located near the creek. Attempts to accurate photograph these creatures were futile.

The Reedy Creek Ranch is an interesting place. First settled in the late 1800s by an Irish family, the place has seen numerous owners in the past forty years. Back in the 1970s it was a thriving Jackaroo ranch (basically a training ranch for wannabe cowboys). After that it spent some time as a bed and breakfast. Shortly thereafter most of the land was sold to the state. Currently it is being run as a viable cattle ranch, with most of the pasture land leased back from the state. This abbreviated history of the ranch was told to us by Adrian, the current owner. A portly, balding man in his early 60s, Adrian looks more like a retired insurance agent that the operator of a massive ranch in the middle of the Queensland bush. Later in the day we met Stan, the man who runs the day to day operations. Stan looks, acts, and speaks the part of a rancher, ten gallon hat and all. The ranch buildings are aging and in desperate need of paint job. The actual homestead is a conglomeration of buildings added to each other as the principle use of the ranch changed over the years. The crowning achievement of this piecemeal construction project is the wide veranda that surrounds the entire place. This glorified porch would be our home for five days.

The date was April 14, 1871 and Eliza Presho,


The Cause of All Our Problems
fresh returned from a week in the newly thriving port of Brisbane, decided to plant a small creeping vine (the seeds of which were shipped in from London) at the base of her wooden entrance arch at the Reedy Creek Ranch. Fast forward 136 years. This seemingly harmless plant, named Cat’s Claw, jumped to the creek bottom and has spread 4 kilometers downstream. Cat’s Claw, when properly maintained, remains small and produces lovely yellow flowers, however, when released unchecked into a fragile environment it turns into a monster. The vine engulfs entire trees choking off their roots and leaves and ultimately killing them. As the trees falls into the creek, the vine spreads downstream to the next victim. Our job would be to cut the vines and spray the ends of them with Roundup. These bastards grow up to an inch thick and a single tree can have fifty or so vines surrounding it’s trunk. Added to this, once you cut the Cat’s Claw, you have 15 seconds to spray the live end until the plant secrets a clotting serum that protects it until it can regenerate. Oh the joys of invasive species.


The Brits Hard at Work
Armed with pruners and spray bottles, this proved to be very tough work. The creek bed is very steep, though vacant at the time of water, and temperatures hovered near 90 with nary a breath a wind. Around noon, two rangers from the Taroom Station, Tasha and Nathanial, showed up. This was quite the pair. Tasha was a wildly friendly woman who was never at a loss for words. Nathanial, on the other hand, was a behemoth of a man who barely uttered a sound. Having experience with Cat’s Claw, they showed up with serrated, folding saws, which were an absolute godsend, especially on the thicker, more entrenched vines.

We returned to the veranda around 3pm after a long day in the creek bed. Any sort of progress was difficult to notice, as we had started our Sisyphusian task at the absolute epicenter of the outbreak. Morale was waning, but a delicious chili dinner helped to bring spirits up. Post dinner, we played some cards; Jana teaching us a German version of President/Asshole and Daniel introducing a British game him and his mates called Shithead (a cross between Uno and Texas Hold ‘Em) The sun sets at 6:30. By the time the generator went out, we were all properly knickered out and sleep was very welcome.

What I Learned Today: Exporting culture can be like exporting invasive species, it may serve the exporter in the short term (and in some aesthetic sense) but in the end, it usually kills the entirety of the native culture (species) and needs to be removed. I feel we are grossly in danger of infecting the entire world with our vacuous materialistic culture. Through advertising and socio-political indoctrination man’s desire for possession is overtaking all other concerns; spiritual, environmental, and cultural alike. Gazing over a Cat’s Claw infected forest is like peering deep into the soul of our society...on the surface a pretty, green monoculture, but in reality, a sick, destructive way of life.


permalink written by  exumenius on October 15, 2007 from Taroom, Australia
from the travel blog: Kiwis and Kangaroos
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