The Plunge Down Under

Loving Autumn

Walking around our colorful streets for the past couple of weeks has led me to the conclusion that autumn is the most beautiful season in our neck of the woods.  If only it didn't herald the coming of the winter, it would be close to perfect.  The display this year has been worthy of fall in New England I have decided.  I have snatched the opportunity a couple of times to head outdoors with the camera as the lovely golden rays of twilight fall.  Those opportunities have been few and far between, but here are a handful of photos for you to enjoy.

 

I have been unable to resist heading for piles of leaves and crackling them underfoot like any six-year-old would do.  Autumn delivers a feast for the senses, from the rasping and rustling of the leaves still hanging, to the earthy smells that hint at the ultimate fate of the falling leaves.  Truly they offer up a splendid gift before rejoining the soil below.

There aren't many things that can distract me from attempting to capture some of the beauty of the trees, but one evening S did just that.  She is the one most likely to seek me out and just hang around, whatever I happen to be doing.  Fortunately she is more than happy to pose for the camera.

Fall Footy Fanaticism

It is not possible to live for very long in Melbourne without coming up against the city's passion for Australian Rules Football (footy).  I have decided that an appropriate chapter title for a book about living in Australia could be "Must I barrack for a footy team?"  The resounding answer to that question if you live in Melbourne is "Yes!"  It is pretty much compulsory to choose a footy team to support, particularly at this time of year.  

Even before the season had officially started this year I was accosted by a total stranger who demanded to know my affiliation.  He had come to volunteer at the secondhand bookstall I was running at the Twilight Picnic, an annual end-of-summer event at the school our girls attend.  Before introducing himself, insisted on knowing which team I supported.  It always takes me a minute or two to remember the name of my team, but thankfully I was able to produce it.  I felt the intensity of his gaze while the identity of my chosen team registered in his brain, the air thick with tension.  Finally he smiled,  shook my hand, and reassured me that he would in fact be able to work with me.  Whew.  I had passed the test.  I can't recall if I ever learned his name, but for that night I knew what was apparently even more important to him, the team he barracked for.

I have written about footy before. One of the first things we did after relocating here was to attend a game, and I made an honest attempt at the time to understand the rules.  Since then I have mostly ignored the sport, but last year our youngest joined in the passion for collecting and trading footy cards on the school playground.  This year Cameron has chosen to play footy for his winter sport at school, and so it has been forced back into the forefront of our lives.

I took along my camera to one of Cameron's games a couple of Saturdays ago.  There really isn't much to photograph in my opinion, but I did manage to get a shot of Cameron kicking the ball after catching it (called a mark).  I also took a shot of his back, because the number of a player is all important.  When a team forms, the assigning of numbers takes on an almost religious importance.  The team gathers just before the beginning of the season for the this most important rite of initiation.  In Cameron's case, we were required to make a special trip to the school for this event.  After listening to a twenty minute lecture on the history of footy at the school, followed by a twenty minute video of highlights from last season, the moment the boys had been waiting for arrived.  The chatter ceased as each boy's name was called out, followed by his number, followed by applause and cheering. In time I realised that all of the boys were hoping for low numbers.  Unluckily for Cameron, he was given the highest number of all three teams from his year level.

Cameron about to kick the ball (above) and just after kicking (below).

For a goal to be scored, the ball must go through the white posts.  That leads to a score of six points.  

One thing that really surprised me at the first of Cameron's games that I attended was that all of the parents walked out onto the field at the quarter and halftime breaks to huddle up with the coaches and boys.  I didn't know what to make of it so I stayed on the sidelines.  I asked my fitness instructor, a former footy coach, about this a few days later, and he said that this is common.  Parents are very keen to hear what is said to their boys and to make sure they aren't being treated too roughly.  When he was coaching, he hated it, because he felt he couldn't yell at the boys the way he needed to in order to get them playing their best. The boys like to be yelled at, he claimed.  

Yelling or being treated roughly by the coach doesn't seem to be a problem for Cameron's team.  The coach doeesn't ever yell as far as I can tell, and in fact, a couple of the dads were complaining that he was too quiet last Saturday when our boys were trounced by more than 100 points.

All of the games have been lopsided so far, but at least on the day I brought my camera, our team was on top for a change.

James is not officially playing Aussie Rules football, but he is the one that is most obsessed with it in our household.   Last year we realised that purchasing a footy book with the accompanying cards of current players is practically a necessity on a school playground in Melbourne.  Ross went out and got a book with several packs of cards for James, and a very frustrating time ensued for both Ross and Cameron as they attempted to teach James the finer points of trading.  

James loved his books and his cards, but every day he came home with one or more of his better cards missing.  Older boys, or more clued-in boys, would trade him worthless cards for good ones.  James didn't care in the least, however.  He was just happy to be participating.  His trading skills have improved somewhat this year, but he has still been taken advantage of several times.  Occasionally there are complaints on the playground, and the principal will stop all trading for a day or two or make a renewed attempt to enforce the rule that trading can only happen within the same year level groups so that the little boys don't get ripped off.

This year we required James to save up his own money to buy his 2013 book.  It took him several weeks, but he finally collected enough coins.  Then he had to save up money for the cards.  You would think that would make him more careful with them, but he still frequently comes home with missing cards and nothing to show for them. I forbade him the other day to give away his doubles, generous soul that he is, explaining that the whole point of this game is to trade.  He reluctantly agreed, his face downcast, and I reconsidered, eventually giving him permission to give a few away to friends. That made him very happy.

James has chosen the Geelong Cats for his team, largely I think because that is the team his mate at school supports.  Both boys can tell you the names of all of the Cats players along with many of their stats, and they are confidently predicting a win in 2013. James now scrutinizes my clothes to make sure I am not wearing the colors of his least favorite team, the detested Collingwood Magpies. If I want to upset him, all I need to do is bring along my umbrella with its vertical black and white stripes to the playground at school pick up time.  Since it is often raining then, I have decided that I should perhaps consider buying one with a less offensive colors.

My tendency has been to roll my eyes over the attention paid to this sport in the city where we currently live.  Lately however several positive aspects of it have been brought to my attention.  My friend Cathy, who moved here with her two young children from South Africa several years ago, shared with me that it was through footy that her then six-year-old son made lasting friendships with the boys at his school. It certainly has provided an avenue for our boys to connect with the local culture.  For them this connection has extended beyond the school boundaries to our church.  The older generation has taken a keen interest in our sons' choices.  One of the ladies purchased a Geelong Cats shopping bag for James, which he faithfully carries with him every week.  Discussions are held each Sunday over that weekend's games, and I get a kick out of listening to them even though I really have very little personal interest.

When I brought up at the topic last Thursday during break time at my weekly writing class, one of the women mentioned that she has gone from looking down on footy to embracing it over the ten years she has lived in Melbourne.  Louise went on to explain that she feels it is a great equalizer, a topic that all, whether rich or poor, can freely discuss.  When she lived in Sydney, in contrast, the important piece of information was the neighborhood one lived in, and this contributed to what she felt was a culture of snobbery.  Louise concluded by confessing that she even enjoys going along to the footy now and again on autumn and winter weekends.  I can't say that I plan to attend any games other than the ones Cameron plays in, but I went away from the conversation with a slightly different perspective on this all-important part of Melbourne culture.

 

Top End Tour: Swimming at Litchfield National Park

There aren't very many things that all four of our children can easily come to a unanimous agreement over, but swimming under the waterfalls at Litchfield National Park is one of them.  It was their hands down favorite part of our trip to the Northern Territory, and a place to which all of them would love to return one day.  Fortunately we saved it for the last part of our nine day trip.  Had we gone there first, the rest of our stops would have been disappointments in comparison.

Litchfield boasts several beautiful waterfalls and swimming holes, most of which are closed in the wet season.  Fortunately, the plunge pool at the base of the double Florence Falls remains open. It is croc free year round, but it is not without its dangers.  There were several signs warning that deaths can occur from jumping into the water hole from the rocks along the sides.  This did not stop several tourists from doing just that both times that we visited.  One daredevil climbed to the very top three times and jumped down, adding an element of drama to an already exciting time.  I couldn't bear to watch, but the children found his exploits fascinating.

I put away my good camera and pulled out the waterproof one for the following photos.  It is hard to think of a time when we have enjoyed swimming more.  After being hot and sticky for several days, it was marvelous to plunge into the clear, warm water surrounded by the beauty of an unspoilt monsoonal rain forest.  As twilight approached and everyone else went home, our family stayed for another thirty minutes, ignoring the hunger pangs from a skipped dinner hour.  It was a magical evening, and one that will live long in our memories.

Another big attraction at Litchfield are the magnetic termite mounds (above).  We passed them coming from and going to Florence Falls, and I insisted that we stop and take a look.  They aren't quite as impressive as the cathedral ones, shown below, but they are interesting in that they are constructed with an orientation to the north/south axis in order minimise the amount of sunlight hitting the mound.  This keeps the temperature cooler during the heat of the day.  The height serves as a place for the termites to live safely during the annual flooding.

Big termite above, determined to pose in my "best photo of the day," and little termite below.

Four very happy children went to sleep that night begging to return to Florence Falls the next day.  We agreed to the possibility, but only after doing a bit of bushwalking first.

Dawn on the Katherine River

The town of Katherine was the third stopping point of our Top End Tour over the Easter break.  With a population of about 10,000 people, it is the fourth largest town in the Northern Territory. Its biggest drawing point is the nearby Katherine Gorge, renamed Nitmiluk National Park in 1989.  Other than the gorge, Katherine boasts a McDonalds and a Coffee Club.  These were the two places our friendly motel owners recommended that we take the family to dinner.  We opted instead to eat cafeteria-style at the motel, and after that experience, we were glad we had changed our itinerary from two nights to one in this location.

Well before dawn the next morning we dragged the children from their beds and hopped in the car for the thirty minute drive to the gorge.  Watching the sun rise is not something our family does often, make that almost never, but this made two mornings in a row.  There were surprisingly few complaints. We sped along in the darkness doing our best to avoid hitting the hundreds of active wallabies up and about at dawn.  We almost succeeded.  This was the view when we arrived at the Gorge parking lot.

We had driven to the gorge the evening before, where we found kangaroos for the first time on this trip.  

By the time we got underway, the sun had risen, and we soaked in the beautiful hues cast on the rocks and water.  There are a total of thirteen gorges at Nitmiluk National Park, but due to the flooding, we could only cruise in the first one. This disappointment was soon forgotten as breakfast was served.  There was almost total silence as we inhaled the coffee, bacon, eggs, mushrooms, sausages, fried potatoes, and cereal.  It was our hands down favorite breakfast of the week.

About twenty minutes into our cruise, out guide pointed out a freshwater crocodile.  Freshwater crocs live here year round, but do not pose any danger to humans.  In the wet season, saltwater crocs often come up the flooding river and have to be removed by park rangers before the gorge is open to swimming again.

As a consolation for only getting to see the first gorge, we had extra time to explore the land around a famous rock art site of the Jawoyn people.  In the Jawoyn tongue, Nitmiluk means place of the cicada dreaming.  Our guide told us that the rock art is believed to be around 7,000 years old.  

Katie had a turn with the camera, and took the following photo as we walked around the rock art site. It may be my favorite scenery shot of the morning.

This cruise was Sophie's favorite part of our trip, with the one exception that will be coming in a future post. All of the kids in fact preferred this boat trip to the one we took on the Yellow Water in Kakadu. No doubt the hot breakfast was a big part of this, plus the fact that we got to clamber around on the rocks halfway through the cruise.  Sophie also liked learning about the plant life from our guide, particularly about a local plant that can be rubbed on the skin to repel mosquitos.

I will leave you with my second favorite photo from the morning, and hope to see you soon for the second-to-last stop of the Top End Tour, Litchfield National Park.

 

 

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Cruising the Yellow Waters in Kakadu

In spite of what seemed to be heavy rainfall and never-ending storms throughout the night, we woke up to clear skies on our third morning in Kakadu. Rousing the children at 5:45 was no easy task, but eventually they stumbled forth from their beds into the darkness in time for our dawn cruise on the nearby river.  To my relief it was not cancelled, and we filed silently on board with about two or three dozen other sleepy tourists.

The sun cleared the treetops before we left our moorings, casting a gorgeous light over the water.

Almost immediately someone spotted a crocodile swimming away from the boat.  Our guide confirmed that it was in fact one of the infamous saltwater crocs, but we only had the briefest glimpse of its tail before it disappeared, and to our regret, no more appeared that morning.  When the river is flooding, the guides have a harder time finding them than they do during the dry season..

This was a disappointment.  However, the landscape was stunning, and the dozens of cameras on board were kept very busy.  I never did find out why the name yellow water is given to this area, but certainly in the dawn, there was a beautiful yellow glow to nearly all that we saw.

The first bird of note was the brilliant azure kingfisher.  He obliged us by remaining on his perch while we circled around him and admired his feathers.

The sign below warns tourists to watch out for Salvinia, a type of floating fern. Just the tip is showing, giving you an idea of the level of flooding during the wet season.

Next we have the Jacana, also known as the Jesus bird because as it walks on the lily pads with its long legs, it appears to be walking on water.

We watched an Australian Darter call out to her mate.

Later we found her male counterpart blending in with his surroundings.

We found a pair of screeching kites more than living up to their name.  It seemed to us throughout our nine days in the Top End that there must be millions upon millions of screeching kites soaring the skies of the Northern Territory.  They do perform the important role of cleaning up the abundant roadkill.  In the early morning light they almost gave the appearance of being pretty birds.

Although it was early, it was hot, making us grateful for the water bottles we had brought with us, and also glad that we would be off the river and out of the sunshine before 9am.

Cameron had been hoping to see a snake on our trip up north.  I believe he is the only member of our family that had not yet encountered one in the wild.  Thanks to the sharp eyes of our guide, we found this specimen of a perfectly harmless yellow tree snake as we cruised along.  Although he was a bit disappointed it wasn't one of the many venomous snakes that live in Australia, Cameron was at last satisfied.

At about the middle point of our cruise, we spotted the largest bird of the morning, a stork mistakenly called a Jabiru when Europeans first explored these waters.  The Jabiru is a stork that lives in South America.  The stork of the Northern Territory is more properly called a Black-necked Stork.  He was at quite a distance, but we watched him for some time as he built his nest, and I envied our fellow passengers with the giant bird lenses on their cameras.

Most birds in Australia seem to be large.  This was certainly the case with the Eastern Great Egret.

One of my favorite birds was the White-bellied Sea Eagle because it reminded me of our North American Bald Eagle.

I was not really sure what to expect from our children on a two-hour cruise that had the primary objective of bird-watching.  They enjoyed it more than I would have thought.  It helped to have a couple of extra cameras along, as well as food and water for James.  Ross and I both agreed later that the cruise was the highlight of the trip for us, although that may have been in part because we nearly didn't get the opportunity to take it.

With the yellow water cruise finally accomplished, we packed up our suitcases and headed south for the town of Katherine.  We need not have hurried, as we were to discover later that day.

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Autumn Happenings

With choral concerts, orchestra performances, and house athletics days added to the beginning of autumn sports for all four children, it has been a busy start to the season.  I realized today that for the first time in three years, it has truly felt like fall to me in spite of the calendar pointing to the beginning of May.  I even went so far as to ask my parents the other day if the leaves had fallen from their trees, forgetting for the moment that it is spring in the northern hemisphere.  

I do think that I will always be hard-wired to associate April and May with spring, but this year I do not struggle with remembering what season we are in quite so much.  Perhaps it is because we have a child finally playing a sport that I associate with autumn.  Shivering along the sideslines of the soccer field amidst falling leaves and intermittent drops of rain is surely part of the fall season for most American parents. This year, after a break from soccer for three years, we have joined them.

As I watched James this morning, I enjoyed the mixture of determination, energy and joy displayed by our youngest.  After years of cheering from the sidelines at the games of older siblings, it is finally his turn, and it seems to me that he is going to make the most of this opportunity.

In the next one I like the way James is still smiling even after the opposition scored on him.  He did block several shots first.

It wouldn't be a proper sporting event in Ausralia without a sausage sizzle.  They were already cooking when we rocked up to the soccer field at 8:45am, and the smell was enough to turn my stomach. However I was grateful for them by the time the boys finished at 10am.  James and his friend both devoured a sausage, wrapped in bread with a squirt of tomato sauce, in record time.  It was enough to tide two famished boys over until lunchtime.

As for the other children, Katie has discovered the joy of running and has joined a cross country team.  Sophie has elected to play netball, a sport I don't really understand yet so will save for a future post.  Cameron is playing Australian Rules Football for his school (referred to as footy in Melbourne), and again, I am still struggling with the rules and culture surrounding his choice. You can be sure that you will hear more about it in the near future.

To close I will share a photos from just a handful of the events I have attended over the past two weeks. Keeping up with all of the performances and games for four children is nothing short of a part-time job in Melbourne.

Cameron preparing to play the double bass in his first ever orchestra performance:

Sophie at her House Athletics Day.  She is busy training for a triathalon and has also made the cross country team at her school.

Katie and her friends came to cheer for Sophie as she ran.  I don't have any photos of Katie on her athletics day as I was too busy selling books at the second hand bookstall and drinking tea in a vain attempt to keep warm.