Rally driving and solar flares

From the from deck at 4am

Captains Log - 0009/ 27th April 2024 / 0700hrs

Sorry all, been a little busy closing off my day job and having fun on weekends - the last few weeks sort of slipped by…suffice to say “Sunday mornings” have been a little hazy these last few weeks.

Whilst I sing the praises of Tasmania at every opportunity I can find, from time to time I do quite enjoy meandering off our little island for a foray into whatever the reason is to disappear and explore other lands. These days the “little island” is here at The Ship and the meandering is quite limited to the township of St Helens or to the beach down the road. Over the last decade I have managed to explore a fair bit “off island” and it would be fair to say that the occasion to do car rally through the desert with a great friend over seven days has been certainly up there on the highlight reel.

The Shitbox Rally is a seven day event that has been cleverly crafted to test the will, stamina and resolve to get a car worth under A$1500.00 from start line A to finish line B. The last one we did was last year were we left from 35 degree tropical dripping heat in Rockhampton to toe numbing Hobart via the desert, coast, mountains, forest on jaw vibrating dirt roads in a 1990 Ford Econovan with rust holes for air-conditioning - we nearly didn’t make it, crawling our protesting “beast” over the finish line last out of 250 cars….but first in spirit! I do love me a good car rally.

Which is why I am a fan of our John Deere ride on mower.

I had been exploring mowers for some time as I knew that the little push Honda jobby that I have had for over a decade was going to be a bit of a stretch to mow parts of twenty seven hectares. Over coffee when I was in Launceston, friends who live on acreage would sprout their brands, engine sizes, colours and all round commitment to their brand of ride on lawn mower. Most the people I spoke with had monster zero turn machines that are worth more than my car. The animation of someone explaining a zero turn lawn mower to you in a cafe is a sight to behold with flexed arms in the two arm steering positions with gritted teeth of imagined mowing techniques common and I have to admit, tempting. I explored a lot of these mowers and even sat on some at stores to “get the feel” - it certainly feels quite cool sitting on floating chair with lots of buttons and foot pedals - one even had a phone charger built in and all had a stubby holder molded into the chassis.

The “Clarkson Farm” like ride on exploration phase died when the previous owner of The Ship said he would sell us his John Deere ride on for A$1K (about A$15K cheaper than the Lamborghini zero turn lawn mower I had been eyeing off). “She is a bit rough around the edges, but it starts first time and I have mowed the acres around the house with it as well as the nature trails - you just need to look out for tree roots and things like that”. Sold.

The other weekend, we decided that the space between the house and the forest needed to be trimmed a bit (technically this area is a fire break) so after a quick trip into town to pick up some mower juice we fired up ole mate John D and eight hours later enjoyed a quiet ale overlooking our new parklands that now surround the house. I mean, eight hours of riding around the property on a low rev with the blades spinning, dodging Jack Jumper nests, trees, inclines and those tree roots - he was 100% right about the tree roots and hidden old stumps - there are some new dents on ole mate John D and you have no illusion that you missed a root when it is hit! Channeling the Shit Box rally (albeit at a slower pace), it is now fair to say that mowing the lawn is now my new happy place. Four hours into what I don’t consider to be just lawn mowing anymore, but more like one of those bearded, tattooed trendy sculptures of metrosexual brewer barbers beards and hair type mowing, Debi (who has never cut a blade of grass in her life) proclaimed “can I have a go”. Three hours later, dust covered and with a grin from ear to ear (and the occasional tree root or stump grinding sound emanating from the landscape), Debi proclaimed that she is now a John D converted property landscaper as well.

Most people would know the feeling of a freshly cut lawn and the satisfying view of a job well done - but eight hours straight elevates this feeling into something else entirely. John D has a very special dedicated place in our shed. Every time one of us have the need to go into the “museum” that is our shed and the green and yellow of John D catches our eye, there is a little moment where we both go “maybe we should mow a little more”.

With the lawn mowing done and the evening approaching we showered up and headed once again to see a band at the Scamander Beach Resort. This time it was Pseudo Echo, another nineteen eighties “we grew up with this music” (see Dragon entry last log). What a night. Whilst this part of the eighties had me pretty much listening to Cold Chisel exclusively, the radio (remember those) would pump out “Funky Town” or “Living in a Dream” or other Pseudo hits so you couldn’t help but know the music. For Debi, she first saw Pseudo at some skate rink gig when she was fourteen and fair to say was a fan. Debi was the one in the front row dancing up a storm and hinting to get up on stage (nope - declined). It was very cool though and the keyboard player (Paul) was the person I have been recording with for my last two songs so after the gig we popped around to the bands hotel room to tick off the groupie thing and get the obligatory “I was there when” photo with Brian (lead singer and original member). A great night that somehow ended at the “Kaz Bar” in St Helens with with me doing my first ever Karaoke performance….and perhaps my last.

Off to Funky Town Baby!

Debi and the fella from the poster on her 15 year old bedroom wall (Brian).

Meandering back in mind space to the Shitbox Rally of last year, we had quite the amazing experience in Strahan. The rally route was Devonport to Strahan via Marrawah and Coota Rocks, over mountains and through valleys. Our poor “Beast” was put through it’s paces and it was during this leg of the rally that we lost the ability to go from first gear to second gear (rather useful that second gear for climbing mountains). We had to go from first to third to second and suffice to say it wasn’t pretty. We rolled (rather than the usual rocked) into camp in the dark as the last car to make it in and headed for the “triage” where some red wine drinking mechanics patched us up to make the last leg to Hobart. After hours of tinker this, screw that, tighten and lubricate we felt confident enough to join the rest of the 500 strong tribe of Shitboxer’s around the fire to mark the last night of the rally. It was quite excellent and our vehicle had a bit of a following as we were one of the highest fundraisers and slipped into a minor celebratory status standing. Great conversations and quite a few ales were had - an excellent night.

Around eleven pm the understanding of another five hundred kilometers back to Hobart the next day over Queenstown and more bloody hills in our fast mechanically deteriorating chariot kicked in and we decided to “call it a night”. Of course that means setting up the camp chairs in our “buddy group” of six cars and having a nightcap and chat. During this chat the sky exploded and an Aurora Australis presented itself over the Strahan sports ground where we were all camping out. For the next hour or two everyone became an expert night photographer with their i phones and eyes were directed to the skies to witness one of the most profound events of nature I have ever seen.

So, the other morning (I am an early riser - always have been - 4am coffee) when I wander out to the deck of The Ship and spied a beam of white light to the South I felt I knew what was coming. I woke Debi and we spent the next hour watching solar flares hit our atmosphere in an explosion of greens, reds, purples, white and amazingness that just has to be seen to be believed. Whilst the photo below is on an “exposure” to capture the sight, the naked eye was treated to a display that will never be forgotten - especially as I have now framed one of the photos and the plan is to put in on the toilet wall.

Doo Doo Doo lookin’ out my back door….

The amazingness of where we now live continues to up the ante on a daily basis and we constantly look at each other with awe that we are here.

On Anzac Day we decided to leave the property and go exploring. From our front window (or deck) at night, there is a light that can be seen some 35km’s as the crow flies over the Tasman Sea. This is Eddystone Point Lighthouse. The lighthouse has been projecting light to mariners since 1889 and there is quite the history you can read online of this structure - I recommend it. So having seen it at night as a white light, we decided to see it in the day and embarked on a 45 min drive via Anson’s Bay to explore. What an incredible location. The lighthouse itself is incredible, but the places around are just amazing. Deep Creek is beautiful and the campsite fire pits have abalone, oyster and crayfish remains as witness to great evenings around the fire. A bunch of wallabies came to visit and made a semi circle around us obviously adapt to sapiens providing some hand outs from to time. Black Cockatoos chatted on tree branches overlooking the Bay of Fires shoreline and the kelp around the rocks on the foreshore swaying in the calm water screamed “get a wetsuit and an abalone license”. Highly recommended visit location if you have never been.

The shiny thing on top can be seen at night from our front deck - some 35Km’s away.

There be crayfish just off these rocks!

On the return drive through forests, over a beautiful still river (Anson’s River) in a valley, on dirt roads that were better than some bitumen roads I have driven on, we emerge out of the trees to drive alongside “Tuckers” farm (I bet you are singing Tuckers Daughter in your head right now - are always do) where angus cows and sheep graze peacefully on coastal green pastures of grass. I mean if I was a cow or a sheep, this is where I would want to be. Coming around one of the bends we notice a black Jeep oddly parked in the paddock with a bleached haired, tied dyed pant wearing Korean girl with nose, lip and eye brow metal studs decorating her face standing beside the Jeep. Noticing the hectic tire marks in the dirt road and the fact that she sort of stood out in this location we slowed down to see if she needed a hand. Yep. She had taken the corner too fast and plowed through the fence into the paddock. Very lucky actually as the car was upright and drivable. After a few minutes of extracting the barbed wire from various parts of her car we tried to get her out. The “press this button for 4WD” cheapo version of nowhere near a Toyota Jeep was useless and she was stuck. I decided to hop in my car and see if I could find someone from Tuckers that may be able to help. After a five minute drive I noticed a real 4WD Toyota flat bed herding sheep through some paddocks and wander up to see if we could get a hand.

“Sydney Rainbow is my name. Sydney like the town, rainbow like in the sky”. Legend of the area I am now informed from a friend. I greeted Sid with a comment like “It would appear that Korea have invaded and one of them is in your paddock stuck behind a broken fence “. “No worries - I am a farmer and a wood cutter - everything we need is in this bus - let me shut these gates and I will come down and sort it out”.

Over the next hour, Sid (alongside Wade - another excellent human that was passing by with a tool shed on the back of his real 4WD) and all of us worked on winching “Eugene” (that was her name) from the paddock onto the road. To add to the service, Wade and Sid screwed her front number plate and pretend bumper back on (this was torn off as she plowed through the fence). One last going over the vehicle to ensure nothing had ripped off or broken and she was off (a lot slower and wiser) to meet up with friends at Blue Lake and then back to Devonport to head back to the Mainland to enter her world of visa agricultural must do this world to be here. She did leave with an experience of Aussie men getting it done with nothing but smiles and hand shaking to accompany the experience.

“I bought a Jeep” and it is useless in 4WD mode (should be the ad byline).

Whilst the madness of “my God is better than your God” or “this land was mine once before and now I want it back” bollocks sandpit toy throwing is all over the headlines, it is nice to be reminded that the majority of Sapiens are genuinely great people and would bend over backwards to help a person in need. I would like to send Sydney Rainbow over to the UN - I bet he would sort them out in about five minutes…..alas I am sure he doesn’t have a suit so he would probably not be taken seriously.

There is heaps more I could write in this entry - two weeks gap is too long and so much happens in this time frame that I could write a novel. Friends have come and gone (thanks for the fountain Mike!), trips to Hobart down the East Coast, amazing meals with friends and every day something new, even if it is a simple sun set or a family of magpies popping in for some bacon.

I will close this entry by stating that I finish my day job next Tuesday - after 30 odd years. Not insignificant. Pretty excited to be free to not read emails or attend “Teams” meetings discussing trade, shipping and the chaos of commerce - at least for a month or two…no doubt I will be back into that world at some point. But for the time being, I am using the label “semi - retired”….it has a nice ring to it.

Anson’s River - begging for a Kayak.

Thank you for reading my ramblings again – keep safe and see you next week (yep - I will get back into the weekly logs…..sorry again for the lapse!).

The Captain.