I spent Monday evening teaching SCUBA theory to three blokes who seemed fixated on how many ways SCUBA can kill you. Obviously you can die SCUBA diving but the whole point of teaching safety and calculations etc is to prevent that happening. Almost the entire evening boiled down to …’there are old divers and there are bold divers but there are no old, bold divers’. Translated: do as you’re told, take safety seriously and you’ll have a better chance of survival.
Look, I know that calculating a risk is not sexy. I’m at a point in my life where I don’t care what you think. I prefer to come up from dive a little tired and grinning at the wonderful things I’ve seen or learned along the way. What set them off was a true story of the day there was an unsuccessful rescue of a diver at a site I was visiting. I don’t particularly know the details of what happened only that I was amongst those who helped in the rescue and aftermath. I’m sure it haunts the people directly involved to this day.
Tuesday I took a couple of those same blokes into the swimming pool (the have not progressed into open water yet) to practice rescue techniques. Let’s say they will get some more practice before we let them out into the real world. It’s hard trying to relate the safety of the pool environment to the great outdoors and a surprising number of big husky guys and gals revert to holding the instructors hand like a child when they get into a diving centre’s water for the first time. Eventually though they learn to float effortlessly with the flow and it becomes an almost meditative experience. I’m lucky. I’ve been a BSAC dive Instructor for about 5 years at time of writing, and diving for about 8 years or so. I get to practice all the skills very regularly because I’m teaching them. Complete mask removal and replacement in 4 degree (centigrade) water if not fun but it proves that you could do it if you needed to, it is not that cold at the moment and was a balmy 11 degrees C in the deep end of the quarry last week.
A word about quarries. The one where I dive is not a working quarry. It has been converted into a dive centre. There is a phone and rescue equipment, certified rescuers… that sort of thing. To anyone out there thinking of a refreshing dunk in your local water source please don’t do it unless properly trained and equipped. I spend a chunk of time every summer explaining to parents and teens that the water may look lovely but it is both deep (your toddler will get into difficulty in 6 to 20 metres of water) and cold (look there’s a reason I’m wearing this diving suit and rubber hood). Even the open water swimmers are wearing full length wetsuits and carrying floats. At the moment most of the UK is staying indoors (it is summer) as its heaving down with rain but once that sun shines you know that some teenage boy is going to die by being too bold in very cold water. For reference it’s the shock to your system of a huge temperature change. (I have swum, supervised in a dock in the North of England wearing nothing but a swim suit in November, a long time ago. It was for a lifesavers exam. I really can’t recommend it).
Saucy? Well, whilst the Netherlands can provide a very ‘adult’ holiday destination in my case, I’m off to see an old friend. We met in the North of Ireland about 40 years ago, and there’s pretty much nothing we don’t know about each other. We haven’t seen each other since pre pandemic and even a chunk of time before that, but you know what, after all this time he’s still my friend. This is the guy who flew in for 24 hours to be the witness at our wedding. He’s pretty special.
The town of Brummen is nowhere. Tiny. Rural and not on the map for most tourists. They’re missing out. It’s on the edge of the Veluwe, near Arnhem and encircled by forest and fields. Beautiful. Not only that but classic car fans would flock to The Gallery to browse, buy or hire a Delorian or a Porche just like James Dean’s. There’s a cute little ferry across the river and a walk taking you to Bronkhorst which styles itself as ‘Dickensian’ and has no cars allowed in the villages where artisan craftspeople ply their wares.
Day two a zoo adventure. Its a 20 minute drive to Burger Zoo, an amazing place. It’s designed in habitats so the people are kept more co fined and the animals (except large or dangerous ones) mingle in the biomes. There’s desert, rainforest… you get the picture. Wow! Their conservation work is impressive and they started the idea of habitat based zoos way way back. I’m.not sure we saw everything but we came close. A relaxed evening meal with a little wine and conversation that went too late as our host had do leave stupid early for a work trip giving us the keys to the house and time to ourselves. We rested from our journey (How many stag do’s (Bachelors parties) can you fit on a plane?) and took a gentle walk to the local thrift store as you’ve seen in a previous post before shooting off to the next village over for an evening meal with some other chums. I noticed in the free newspaper that Hall (where we were for the evening) was expecting a Lancaster Bomber fly past for VE day.
A not so early start the next day took us by train (and the trains from Brummen are excellent) took us via Zwolle to Deventer. It’s not a place I’d ever been and I have to say its a stunning medieval city. I think we found the pinkest cafe there for lunch which was excellent and a book store which took up a chunk of our time before hopping back to Zwolle to meet someone I’ve known since they were six for a coffee and ice cream in one of the local game cafes. We left as a serious game of Magic the Gathering began in earnest. Zwolle is also an amazing medieval city with the walls still visible and a ‘moat’ around the town centre.
What I didn’t mention earlier was that this was the week on Kings Day. The Dutch, like the UK, have a monarchy but unlike the UK make the monarch’s official birthday an excuse for a huge party and a public holiday. Brummen kept it low key with a small market and flea market (swap meet) and, of course a lot of orange clothing. My favourite part of the day was ‘King William’ ice cream, the joke is King Billy ice cream as Erik and I had met in Northern Ireland. We didn’t stay long and aerik took us into the Veluwe to one of the many national park properties to spot wild deer in the forest. What a magical evening. Please venture out of Amsterdam next time you’re in Holland.
Friday we took our leave and headed to my favourite city, Utrecht. It’s a university city equivalent to Oxford or Cambridge in its size and tone. No rivers but the Oude and Niewe Gracht (canals). We had an air b’n’b in what has become the Moslem area of town …. oh yes great food! Usually we visit the Straat Orgel Museum but we planned something different this time. One of my favourite buildings in the world (alongside Battersea power station which is on the list since it has been refurbished as a shopping centre). 10 years ago I tried to take Em there only to find it closed!!!! Noooooo. There were various rumours as to what it would become … thankfully my worst fears were not realised. Welcome to Utrecht Library, formerly the Post Office. The joy of the refit was that we could work our way up to the rafters to see the stunning glass roof from both inside and out. Honestly people go in to lie on the floor and look up. I’d borrow a lot of books if this were my local library. There’s a really cool coffee shop too.
The next day we spent wandering the town. Being a University city there’s a lot of places to eat and drink fairly cheaply and lots of board game shops (we found 4). We had to buy licorice, salty licorice, for my dad and visit the excellent handmade chocolate shop we found lst time we were here. sad to say some places had suffered and gone through the pandemic. We found the most chill bar of the trip close to the cathedral (the Dom) and partook of some Belgian beer before a visit to another of my favourite little men, a tiny statue of a monk in the cloister. It was a sunny day and the place I’ve so often had to myself, was packed. Excellent busker in there too. I said a quick hello to the little fella and we headed out to the air b’n’b to feed the cats. Yes, this one came with critters and a small yard/garden.
Homeward bound we stopped in Amsterdam en route for the airport. There was a book I wanted and the American Book Centre had it in stock which is lucky since its around the corner from one of my favourite bars on Spui. Now the Hoppe is famous and old and usually rammed with tourists but its sister bar (the one with the toilets … if you know you know) is used more by locals. Finally we set our teeth on bitterballen. They’re hard to explain. Kinda like a thick soupy but not liquid middle of meat and potato (ish) in a breadcrumb coating. usually eaten with mustard. As ever I had the house speciality, Jenever, a sort of Dutch precursor to gin. next we hopped on the subway to avoid the crowds (Yes, read that again the subway is the least crowded mode of transport) and headed to NSDM one of the newer, trendier areas of Amsterdam. It’s in a former dockyard and holds a lot of arts workshops, cafes and the Street art museum (which we didn’t have time to visit). On a hot sunny day we were grateful to grab the ferry back to Amsterdam Centraal to head out to Schipol.
It’s been too long and I miss my friends. Not too much time will pass before I’m on Dutch soil again.
Well… It’s 100 days away. My lovely wife is at the handover this evening being on the Pride board and more than a little bit responsible for the whole Pride thing. Long story. I’m just hoping for a sweatshirt!
Everyone was up and ready for our transfer to the station. I have to admit it felt odd not to have Smiler and Karen looking after us and we were a little twitchy as to what form our transfer would take. Turns out it was a very nice local minibus taxi and they delivered us in time to see the Ghan pull into the station. Once there our bags were checked ready for delivery to our cabins for later. Choices for today’s Ghan related trips were a tour of Alice (been there done that), an animal encounter at the Desert Park (my wife’s choice) and Simpson’s Gap. I went for the Gap. Oh sure we may have gone to ANZAC hill again but this time there was the bonus view, the train. Only seeing it from up there can give any realistic idea of what a 1km train looks like.
The thin red and silver line across the centre of the image is the Ghan. Alice spreads only as far as you can see and is no allowed beyond the current city limits as this is now Arrente land. Once we passed Flynn’s memorial again we were off to Simpson’s gap.
Once again this place has been immortalised by Albert Namatjura. It was busier than many sites we’d visited but still fresh from the coach we were greeted by a Bearded Dragon (lizard) and some pink birds I’m informed were Major Mitchell’s cockatoos posing in a tree for their close up. As ever this being Australia the rivers run underground except in times of flood and we were able to crunch along the sandy river bed where the Blood Gums grew until we reached the water hole that marks the end of the tourist area and the start of First People’s land. You get some idea of the scale of the place from the little figures in this image. A rocky area near the gap itself kept us captivated for some time as we scoured the area for sight of the Black Rock Wallaby. They did not disappoint but you try photographing one!
Lunch was served at the Desert Park where we met up with our train mates. I’m not sure who had the better day. Getting close up and personal with the local wildlife and watching the staff fly birds of prey sounded pretty cool to me. For those who felt the need to shop there was a drop off in the town centre but we opted for a cool down and a shower on board before our evening’s entertainment. Alice Springs was not done with us yet.
The town was called Stuart (after the explorer) or originally Mbantwe. When the overland Telegraph Station was build out of town that became known as Alice’s Spring after Alice Todd wife of Sir Charles Todd. Eventually it became too confusing to have two names for what was essentially one place and Alice Springs it became (Aussies, we are told, are naturally lazy and that is easier to pronounce than Alice’s Spring). The town grew with the 1887 gold rush. The telegraph station is still there on the edge of town and that was our dinner destination for the evening. We arrived at dusk to be greeted with love music and, of course, champagne. It never gets boring.
We ate as the sun went down serenaded by a live band. The Milky Way was visible above us. Some of our travelling companions in ‘Platinum’ were a little too much for us (never discuss politics at dinner) but I found myself seated next to the guy who played triangle on a Thompson Twins single hit (if he was to be believed) and we talked 80s music for a while. Conversation across the table was getting heated. My wife and I went for a walk. We decided to opt out of the camel rides but did join our Red Centre companions at their ‘Gold’ table for a few laughs.
[At this point I should say that we opted for the Platinum package because we wanted a flat bed experience rather than bunks. Neither of us were comfortable with the level of privilege shown by some of our coach mates. It costs nothing to be nice only some people seem to forget that. We have family who work in the hospitality industry and make it a habit not to treat service staff rudely.]
Whilst some people chose to dance into the wee small hours we took the shuttle coach back to the Ghan for a quiet nightcap (brought to your room) and an early-ish night, it was still close to midnight. Once the last passengers were on board we started to move slowly through the desert towards Coober Pedy.
An early start to catch a sunrise over Uluru from the viewing platform near the resort was rather spoiled by cloud cover! Still a spectacular sight though, in truth, we overslept a little. Back for breakfast an onto the bus. Today’s viewing was the story of the accident that changed aviation worldwide. The Coffee Royal Affair. Less commentary as we were all tired and reflecting on the end of an eventful week. Some of our friends were leaving today to go on their travels and yet others would be rejoining the Ghan with us tomorrow. We were on the black top (proper roads) as we made our way back to Alice our final lunch stop being at Elrunda Roadhouse. Yes, there were emu. Yes it was everything you imaging a roadhouse to be. None of us wanted a beer and the barman and three locals that had appeared as we arrived faded into the background as quickly as they came.
Emu at Elrunda Roadhouse
We rolled into Alice Springs past a Toyota dealership. It sells more ‘utes’ than anywhere else on the planet. After the roads we have driven in the past few days I can see why. The town itself exists because of the telegraph station but more of that later. It is a hot day as usual and we decided to walk into town before it got too hot (spoilers, it was already too hot). There are a few attractions. Our hotel was next door to the Lasseter’s Casino (Pricilla again), in the town centre highlights are the Qantas hangar, the old prison and the Flying Doctor museum, the desert park is just outside town but more of that later. A farewell diner with our driver and guide and off to bed. One day free to roam Alice tomorrow.
Well, it would have been rude not to visit the Royal Flying Doctor Service since we had already been to Flynn’s memorial and now knew the story of the 20 dollar note (the old ones) and how it could save your life. Its hologram show and the opportunity to get on board a life size mock up of the plane made an enjoyable and informative visit … and we ran into some of the team whilst we were there.
Then we decided on the prison, its just across the road. It’s not entirely grim as it was rescued from destruction because of a wonderful mural painted by a former inmate. Sadly (?) some of the buildings had been destroyed before the community campaign managed to save the rest and it has now been converted to a museum of prominent women. That’s a whole new perspective on the influence of these hardy females. Some of the original blocks have been preserved and no way would I have wanted to be locked in there with no air con.
By now the sun was almost directly overhead so we abandoned the idea of a short walk to find a bakery recommended as a great place to eat and made our way back to the RFDS café for lunch. Staff from the hospital were there too. Refreshed, cooled and stocked up with water in our indispensable water flasks (the best thing in those kits we got) and wandered back to the hotel. Yeah, the pool in the shade was definitely the place to be. Quiet bar snack diner, complementary drinks of course and an early night ready for our return to the train.
It’s been a busy year. Lots of pre booked and in waiting post (lol) pandemic fun to be had now we have been allowed out. That said, gigs were missed due to covid and bad weather this year, too, but not the trip down under. The world looks a little different. Some people didn’t make it this far, yet others were born. Same as any year and not at all like anything I’ve experienced before. I trust that the future will be just as unpredictable as the past was when it, too, was the future. My best wishes to one and all. I’ll keep trolling on about my stuff here, and who knows, maybe you’ll stay with me. I wish anyone reading all the best for the future however long it lasts.
Interior of Kings College Chapel. Nice visit yesterday pre Folk Festival. Expect a post about music, festival clothing/loos/food etc. In due course…. and random comments about amazing music.
I have a confession to make. I do consumer competitions. You know the ones splashed down your chocolate bar or on a nifty collar on your fave tipple…WIN….money, a holiday, car, plastic novelty item, tickets… Another confession. I have won several such prize draws and tests of skill. The point being they are designed to affect your spending choices and to attract your loyalty. I get a magazine with all such ‘contests’ available to me listed. I do t even have to buy the thing (unless that’s an entry requirement). There are also secret oiine cabals with free listings….they even publish the answers.
My point being that way back,I those heady days before the pandemic, I won a two night trip to a rather swanky place. Hoar Cross Hall (Not sponsored) As a marketing ploy it was successful as we go back annually global circumstances permitting. My absence is due to one such brief voyage. We spent 36 glorious hours mainly underground and submerged in water… except when being therapeutically pummelled or Michelin star fed. This is the first occasion I don’t recall seeing a TV or other celeb. There was however a wedding and I realised that I’d previously missed the chapel and a walk around the church which stands in the grounds.
My parents hate the very idea of the’spa’. That’s OK they weren’t invited. Buying time away from the everyday even for a moment, even a fairground ride or a film, is something everyone dies in their own way. A walk at the beach need cost nothing, also true for urban exploration. Take some time. Sit. Think. Play.
ffiftypluses 