Happy birthday Charle

Petite Charle,

sorry, je n'etais pas a cote d'un ordi le jour de ton annif, mais le mal est repare: Joyeux Anniversaire (avec un peu de retard...) a toi, ma Chacha.

Tu te souviens de ces vacances a Arran. Je t'ai fais venir jusqu'en Ecosse, et je t'ai fais marcher jusqu'a cette petite maison pommee, en plein milieu de nulle part, et le soir, on a joue a Jungle Speed. Que de bons souvenirs....

Dommage que je n'avais pas la photo de toi apres ton operation des dents de sagesse; cette photo a le don de faire rire tout le monde qui la regarde. Surtout moi. Mais c'est gentil, hein?

Pictionnary junior

En attendant de faire reparer la voiture, on a eu pas mal de temps a tuer. Pendant que Philip s'instruisait en lisant des livres intellos, j'ai decide de laisser aller mon cote artistique, et voila le resultat!

Comme vous pouvez le voir, je suis loin d'avoir herite des dons artistiques de Papa.

J'assume.

Are you sure, Cheri, it was a good idea to come to Bondi Beach on our first day, after a 24-hour flight and a long, cold winter in Scotland?

On the road to the East Coast

2, 500 kilometres in two and a half days at 100kph and nothing to see on the way, nothing to break the monotony of driving and absolutely nothing to take a photograph of. The road is so straight that at the slightest curve, motorists stop and have a tea-party. You can drive for an hour and not see any other vehicles on the way and when you do, you wave to one another in delight.

People who know me, consider me to be somewhat of a worrier and so it will be of no surprise to learn that my anxiety levels were high. With the memory of being stranded for three days fresh in my mind, the prospect of a breakdown out there really wasn’t appealing. Happily, I can report that we made the distance and despite a few strange sounds, our car behaved as well as can be expected.

After a month or so in arid landscapes, intense heat, clouds of dry dust and hours, days on the road, we were eager to reach the East Coast. The East Coast is home to the Great Barrier Reef, the Whitsunday Islands, warm and crystal clear waters, golden beaches and modern civilisation. This is where we are going to go diving and snorkelling. This is where we will sail yachts from secluded island to secluded island. This is where we will enjoy the heat, savour fillets of freshly grilled barramundi and wash it down with cool ginger beer. This has been our ultimate goal, our holy grail and it was why we decided to come to Australia. With each hundred kilometres closer we got to the coast, our spirits rose and our excitement grew.

As we drove closer to the coast, whispers of cloud began to form more menacing shapes and gradually the habitual blue sky began to darken. When the first drops of rain started to fall onto the windscreen, our mood changed profoundly. The occasional drop was replaced by a furious onslaught of rain and our old, squeaky windscreen wipers squeaked and groaned from side to side. They were clearly past their best and we were asking too much of them, but they soldiered on. We were glum and resigned to the fact that the rain had finally found our location and would now, and forever more, follow us until gills formed on our necks.

I’m pleased, however, to report that as soon as we reached the coast, the rain ceased and the clouds dispersed. The drive north was pleasant with magnificent sugar cane plantations and lush, rolling hills on either side of the road.

The East Coast

I’m now writing to you from our beach. I’m sitting on my camp chair with the computer on my lap. In front of me is golden sand and a sea filled with colourful reefs and enthusiastic fish. I’m hiding from the sun under the shade of a coconut tree. Apparently, this is a campsite, but really it is simply a stretch of magnificent beach. We spent the morning walking on the golden sand and a la Robinson Crusoe, we collected some coconuts.

It is one thing to collect them and quite another to open them. They are, literally, a tough nut. It took me half an hour to open one. I tried hurling it onto a rock, I attempted to saw away at it with my Leatherman, I tried smashing it against another coconut and I even tried using a piece of sharpened wood to tear away at the husk. All with no success and quite frankly, something that is capable of floating in the sea for three thousand miles and still germinate when it hits land, deserves respect. So I tried one more strategy prior to resorting to driving my 4X 4 over it, and that was to take a rather heavy claw hammer to it and obliterate it big style. A little uncouth, but it worked. Unfortunately, the swine had the last laugh. The milk was rotten and the white was brown. Not to be put off by this, we tried my new technique on one of its brothers and by god it was worth it. The milk was cool and wonderfully sweet. The flesh was both moist and crunchy. It was exceptionally good and took me right back to my childhood when I would win one at the local fair and my dad would take a screwdriver and hammer to open it up and release its flavours. I had totally forgotten just how good a fresh coconut really is... if a little hard work.

Katherine Gorge

For those of you who didn’t pay enough attention to their French teachers, my wife has just summed up our wonderful experience in Australia’s largest national park, Kakadu. Here, we went on a sunrise river cruise and saw dangerous crocodiles; we went on marvellous walks by towering waterfalls and crystal clear plunge pools and we re-enacted the battle of Rourke’s Drift of the Anglo Zulu war against mosquitoes... and lost. It was a crushing defeat and Ju came off the worst with at least a hundred bites on each leg. No joke. Oh, Ju also writes about Aboriginal rock art thousands of years old. Apparently this fascinated other tourists and my wife, but personally, I found it a little comme-ci comme-ca. Who says I’m jaded.

After Kakadu national park, we decided to nurse our wounds by canoeing up Katherine Gorge. Katherine Gorge is an impressive sight. The jade coloured river lethargically meanders its way down to the coast while it is flanked on both sides by massive walls of solid ochre tinted sandstone. By midday, the sunrays only just manage to reach the water, reflecting the ripples of the current back onto the gorge walls. A light breeze hugs each turn and bend, cooling those on the water.




We rented the canoe for the day and made our lazy way up river. To rest, we grounded up onto an occasional sandbank and ate ANZAC biscuits (superb coconut and oat biscuits which womenfolk sent to Australian soldiers in Galipoli during WW1... but by the time they arrived, they were so hard that the soldiers preferred to use them as firewood).

We made good progress and my wife’s paddling technique as a former rower ensured we made it all the way to Lilly pad Waterfall. To get here we needed to abandon our canoe and walk inland. After a brief hike, we came to a truly breathtaking sight: a waterfall one hundred meters high where the water freefalls from top to bottom into a magnificent plunge pool. The water was refreshing and sweet tasting and we had it to ourselves.

Our way back was even more pleasant as we were with the current and we let it carry us for most of the way. In total, we canoed for 15 kilometres and the cold strawberry flavoured milk afterwards was particularly welcome.

Our final stop before we hit the road was Bitter Springs. Bitter Springs is a stretch of river that is warmed up by thermal activity (whatever that means) and the water is a pleasant 34 degrees. The current is too strong to swim against and you have to float downstream before climbing out a few hundred meters later. We donned our facemasks and had a magnificent time swimming down the narrow channel and its crystal clear waters. It was, however, a little disconcerting to see the cracks in the river bed with hundreds of little bubbles streaming out.

A little scavanging visitor

Crocodile Dundee contre Rambo

Nous avons enfin atteint le parc national de Kakadu. Le plus grand parc d’Australie, c’est quand même pas peu dire. Il nous a fallu 2 semaines pour faire les 2000 misérables petits kilomètres entre Kakadu et le lieu de THE panne.

Mais comme on dit en british, les bonnes choses arrivent à ceux qui savent attendre. Et quand je dis ‘bonnes choses’, je pèse mes mots. Kakadu était magnifique. La savane a l’état pur. Heureusement pour nous, nous l’avons visité en ‘hiver’ ; enfin, pendant la saison sèche, car je ne crois pas qu’on peut appeler ‘hiver’ quand la température dépasse les 30 degrés Celsius des 8 heures du mat. Pas de la ou je viens, en tous cas.

Il y a eu le coucher de soleil à Ubirr, avec vue de 360 degrés sur la savane, les magnifiques ‘galeries d’art’ sur les rochers ou les aborigènes, il y a des centaines (voire milliers) d’années, on dessiné a l’aide de roche broyée et de leur sang...

... les billabongs couverts de nénuphars en fleur, les cascades de 100 mètres de haut et leur piscine ou il fait bon se rafraichir et bien sur, la croisière au lever du soleil sur la Yellow Water River et le clou du spectacle, les crocodiles!

Je reviendrai sur ces merveilleuses créatures un peu plus tard, mais d’abord, petit flashback sur notre première nuit à Kakadu.

Tout avait bien commencé, on avait récupéré notre engin (ouf, quel soulagement. On a payé moins cher que l’on nous avait prédit pour les réparations ; ouf pour ca aussi !) et quitté Darwin ou on a bien profité de notre vie sédentarisée pendant une semaine environ pour se reposer. Donc, c’était reparti pour l’aventure, on commençait à avoir des fourmis dans les pattes, il était temps. Retour a notre vie de nomades, de feux de camp, de douches bien espacées et de l’eau suspicieusement jaune.


On a trouvé un coin sympa pour camper, au bord d’un billabong. (Ce mot aborigène signifie‘rivière morte’ car se sont des points d’eau qui ne sèchent jamais, même pas pendant la saison sèche.) Camper près d’un point d’eau constitue la Premiere Erreur Fatale. On s’y trouvait bien tranquille, puisqu’il n’y avait personne d’autre (tu m’étonnes). On s’installe, je sors notre réchaud (tasse de thé oblige) pendant que Philip nous concocte un bon petit feu (On croyait que la fumée éloignerait les moustiques dont on nous avait parlé : Deuxième Erreur Fatale)

Tout allait bien jusqu'à ce que le soleil commence à se coucher… et la, c’est l’invasion.
Digne d’un film d’Hitchcock : des moustiques PARTOUT. Par milliers. L‘horreur. Ils nous attaquent de tous les cotés. On n’a même pas eu le temps de ranger nos affaires, on a du aller se refugier dans notre voiture.

Il faisait environ 50 degrés Celsius la dedans, alors on a utilisé notre moustiquaire qu’on a accroché a l’arrière de notre voiture pour pouvoir ouvrir le coffre pour faire rentrer un peu d’air (Troisième Erreur Fatale!). La, nous pensions être tranquille, et avec le coffre ouvert, il ne faisait plus que 45 degrés.

Alors, qu’est-ce qu’on fait maintenant ? Il n’est que 19h et on ne peut pas sortir de la voiture, même pas pour se préparer à manger. On décide de faire passer le temps en lisant. Donc, on allume la torche…. Est-ce bien la peine de préciser que cela consiste on notre Quatrième et Majeure Erreur Fatale? On ne savait pas mais il y a avait un gros trou dans la moustiquaire et les moustiques affluaient par centaines. Au départ, on pensait que ce n’était que les moustiques qui avaient réussi à se frayer un chemin dans la voiture quand on avait ouvert la porte pour y entrer, alors on a laissé la lumière allumée et la chasse aux moustiques a commencé. C’était une scène de bataille digne d’un film de Rambo, des cadavres partout: sur le toit, les vitres, les oreillers, le drap…. Mais comme dans Rambo, les héros aussi sont touchés. Les moustiques se battaient comme s’ils savaient que leur petite vie misérable en dépendait. Et nous aussi. On en tuait un, mais dix rentraient dans la voiture. Et au final, après une guerre sans pitié, nous déclarâmes forfait et nous finîmes par nous rendre a l’ennemi : ce furent les méchants qui gagnèrent.

Et oui, je suis française après tout, je fais pas dans le genre Hollywood!

Et d’ailleurs, voila le résultat!

Philip s’est amusé a compter mes blessures de guerre, mais il a vite laissé tomber (Honestly, my poor wife had at least 100 bites on her left leg; I gave up counting at number 101).
Mes pauvres jambes. Déjà que je n’avais pas beaucoup d’estime pour elles avant, mais au moins, avant, elles ressemblaient quand même a des jambes. La, j’abandonne, elles sont un cas désespéré.

Autant vous dire que notre première nuit a Kakadu a été très courte : entre le buzz incessant de l’ennemi et le manque d’oxygène dans l’air, nous dormîmes très peu. Nous étions à 2 doigts de tout laisser tomber et de repartir. (On dit que la nuit porte conseil. D’accord, a condition de dormir.)

Heureusement, nous trouvâmes la solution dans le petit magasin unique du parc : un spray anti-moustique (a 40% DEET spray which burns plastic, erodes gold and makes mozzies dissolve into dust instantly). Hélas, si seulement nous avions pu avoir cette idée de génie un jour plus tôt.

Voila, je laisse tomber le passé simple (ca me donne mal a la tête) et je vous montre a quel point ca valait le coup de rester a Kakadu. Ils disent qu’une photo vaut 1000 mots, alors je vais faire des économies en vous montrant ces photos de notre aventure à Kakadu. … Ce fut inoubliable. (Oups, je ne peux plus m’en empêcher, j’ai été contaminée par le virus du passé simple).

Le meilleur moment fut de loin la croisière sur la Yellow Water River. Lever a 5h45 pour voir le lever du soleil sur l’eau ; c’est surtout parce que c’est au lever du soleil que la faune sauvage est la plus active. C’est pas tous les jours qu’on voit des crocodiles nager a nos cotés! Ce sont des bêtes impressionnantes, leur dents et leurs mâchoires ne donnent pas envie de les embêter. Ils peuvent sauter jusqu'à 2 mètres hors de l’eau, ce qui était assez convaincant pour ne pas sortir les bras du bateau. Le crocodile est le seul animal qui n’a pas évolué depuis l’ère des dinosaures car son corps a été si bien étudié. Philip et moi en sommes restés bouche bée (pour ne pas dire sur le c…l!), et j’espère que ces photos réussiront à reproduire notre émerveillemen
L’aventure aurait était parfaite si je n’avais pas passé mon temps a me gratter comme un chien couvert de puces, comme me le rappelle si gentiment mon mari  Je me réveillais la nuit en me grattant, j’étais obligée de sortir de la voiture pour aller chercher des glaçons dans la glacière. Le seul remède a ma misère.

A la sortie de Kakadu, on fonce à la ville la plus proche (Katherine) pour dévaliser leur pharmacie. J’en suis ressortie avec une crème anti-grattage, un savon spécial au goudron, et des cachets anti-estamine ; et un peu dégoutée aussi. Toutes les filles qui travaillaient dans cette pharmacie m’ont toutes rappelée : ‘Ah oui, c’est ca qui arrive quand on a la peau claire.’ J’avais envie d’enlever ma montre et de crier : ‘Mais non, ca c’est pas la peau claire. Je suis bronzée la, tu vois pas, j’ai même la marque de ma montre sur le poignet.’ Mais je renonçai. Ah quoi bon, devrais-je me résilier au fait que, lors de ma conception, au moment de décider de la complexion de ma peau, mes gènes italiennes faisaient la sieste alors mes gènes anglaises étaient en majorite.

Peu importe les piqures de moustiques et les pharmaciennes qui ont besoin de lunettes, notre petit séjour au pays de Crocodile Dundee a été inoubliable, et Dieu qu’il fait bon d’être sur la route une fois de plus (ce qui me manquait surtout, c’était les feux de camp. Ca me rappelle la belle époque, quand j’étais Jeannette et Guide de France. Philip, lui, est heureux comme tout aussi car dans cette métropole de Darwin (10 000 habitants), il était difficile d’éviter les backpackers qu’il redoute temps pour leur manque de savoir-vivre!)

On our way to Kakadu...

At the end of my streta in Corsica, there is a dog, This dog has three legs, no hair, half a tail, one eye and I suspect is diseased with leprosy. Whenever I walk pass this rabid-looking mutt, I look at it with a mixture of profound pity and utter disgust. During the last 2 weeks, I have had the same feeling whenever I’ve looked at our car. So after a new front gear box seal, a new handbrake shoe and a good wash, our giant blackberry is up and running again.

So how about Darwin? Like most Australian towns we have seen, we found little that would warrant an extended stay. My desire to leave this place was heightened when I discovered that Darwin has five youth hostels. This inevitably means soap-dodgers. We had the bad luck to have to stay in one while our car was being repaired. To save on our pennies we took a dorm room, despite my obvious objections. Reluctantly, I dragged my unenthusiastic body into the room. Apart from the room being filled with dirt (old plasters, empty crisp packets, used tissues, three backpackers, filthy towels, odd socks etc), my attention was immediately drawn to the source of The Smell.

Imagine an airtight plastic bag filled with ripe camembert, age old Roquefort, monkey pee and then filled with fart gas. Now take this plastic bag and place it on the top of a rather tall sand dune in the Sahara desert. Ensure that it is in direct sunlight and that no shade can reach it. After three months take this plastic bag and throw it into a cesspit for a week or two. Finally, place the bag in a microwave and cook on full power for thirty minutes. Now open this bag and take a deep breath through your nasal passage. Magnify this smell by three and that is what I could smell when I entered the room. I didn’t need the help of Inspector Morse to locate the source. Laying on the top of a bunk bed on the far side of the room, I noticed a pair of feet, engrained with black, putrid filth. These feet belonged to a 20 something year old man who was furiously picking away at his nose. Nice. We left our bags on our bed and made a quick getaway to the Deck Chair Cinema.

It was a lovely experience to watch a film, sitting outside on a deckchair while eating roasted chicken, crisps and olives. It was even lovelier to have my feet caressed and tickled by soft fur. As I was engrossed by the film, it took me a little while to react to this. In truth, I only reacted when my wife gave me a quick jab to the ribs as she pulled her feet off the floor and onto the chair while pointing hysterically to the moving chicken carcass.

I gave the carcass a good kick and out popped an angry looking and rather greasy possum head. Despite my protests he continued to pillage the chicken. Once he had satisfied himself that he had all he needed he moved on to pester the couple in front of us. Cute little thing and incredibly persistent.

The Breakdown

280 kilometres north of Alice Springs we broke down. Unhappily the nearest mechanic was 250 kilometres further north. Worse still, we had broken down right next to a rotting kangaroo carcass and the thousand flies it was host to, found us more interesting. Even more unhappily, we were stranded for three days while our roadside recovery people refused to come and rescue us until we had paid 500 pounds of excess. We did not know this until day two. You see, we had no reception and the only way to communicate is by stopping a car and asking them to pass on a message in the next town (a good two hour drive). We had sufficient supplies for four days and plenty of kind souls stopped to ensure we were alright.

The Road Less Travelled...

We were able to identify what was to blame: massive leak of transmission fluid from the front seal of the gearbox. Impossible to fix without a spare seal and an apprenticeship in mechanics. We were able to apprehend some transmission fluid and a few cans of stop leak on the third day and we made a very sluggish track to Tennant Creek. Tennant Creek is a small town of no significance but we made friends with some very generous natives. In essence, no mechanics were prepared to do the job as a) it was a very big job and b) they wouldn’t do it for a few weeks. The prospect of spending two weeks in a town of no significance is about as appealing as having a demented and slightly rabid ferret chew on my face. So we sent the car up to Darwin via road train (lorries three to four trailers long and they literally cause the ground to tremble) and followed it on the night bus.

So this is the moon down under. Is it true that it is the other way round up there?

So we are now in Darwin and have the car booked with a mechanic on Wednesday. The whole gear box needs to come out (it is a massive beast) and it is at least an 8 hour job. Considering we have already had to have a fuel leak fixed, a new exhaust welded and there are a plethora of other mechanical woes to be addressed, we may be backing the wrong horse. But other travellers seem to have spent more than us on their chariots, so I guess we are lucky.

Auhtor's note: You may have noticed that I have a tendancy to put up photos that do not appear to have any relevance to either the paragraph bellow or the one above. Let me assure you that, you are correct, there is no relevance at all.

Scroll down for some culinary capers ...