All in a Day Adventures

All in a Day #10 I teach therefore I am (a teacher)

July 2023

“My tummy hurts, I have a sore foot, leg, arm, eye, and hurt feelings.” Despite my aptitude for curing all of these ailments (sometimes with nothing more than a piece of wet paper towel) , I am not a nurse but a primary school teacher.

I teach small children. Not all the time, but a day or so a week. I was once a full-time teacher until I went part-time and realised there could be a life of less stress. Now I mostly write, sometimes I mark standardised writing tests, and will be supervising student teachers from next month.

While that sounds like a lot of different hats, it is no where near as crazy as a fulltime teaching load! I don’t think I realised how all-encompassing fulltime teaching was until I stopped.

On Thursdays, I don my teacher’s garb, gird my loins and head out into the world with a packed lunch and a water bottle. I spend the day teaching Year 5s in the morning and little Year 2s in the afternoon.

By lunchtime, I look forward to the end of the day and ask myself how I ever managed to teach full-time for 14 years. I read news reports of teachers leaving the profession because they are burnt out and have had enough of the added burdens placed on them by schools, the government and the general population, and I understand it’s a tough gig.

I maintain my teaching connection for the money and to keep up my teaching quals. Lets face it, it’s a good thing to have in times of economic uncertainty and I don’t hate it, but I don’t love it either. Anymore.

I make the most of my time at the lovely northern suburbs school where I work. The children are from essentially high socio-economic families. They have breakfast before they leave for school, they all have healthy lunches and are generally well-behaved and polite.

Some schools where I do relief do not have children like that. Sometimes I head out to the south-eastern suburbs where children don’t have breakfast and sometimes don’t have lunch. They are not always dressed warmly in winter, and they are not always polite. In fact, they can be downright rude and disrespectful.

But kids are kids – sometimes they bowl you over with their joi de vivre, and other times they slap you right in the face (not literally, hopefully) no matter where they come from or their circumstances. Mostly they want to learn and do the right thing.

I had to teach a sport session the other week, and my allocated sport was tunnel ball. Everyone has played tunnel ball, right? Apparently not. The kids had no idea what was going on. I had no whistle, so my not-very-loud voice was put into action. “Line up! Spread out, step your right foot out. The other right! Watch the ball, the ball! It’s under your legs…” It was a disaster. I don’t know who was more relieved when it came time to return to class, me or the kids!

Tunnel ball aside, I enjoy attending school for other reasons. For one, staff and other teachers provide me with the adult contact I sometimes lack as a WFH writer. Two, schools have the best staff morning teas! And finally I get to have fun with kids – what’s not to love about that?

My team teacher inspires me to be organised. In fact she is the most organised teacher I have ever met! I sit at her desk, and within half an hour I have reduced it to a mess of papers, have lost my pen, spilled pencil shavings and scattered her neatly stacked papers everywhere. If only I could emulate her organisational skills in my own piles of paper and pads at home on my writer’s desk!

So, I look at my occasional foray into schools as human development and a steady income stream to supplement my erratic freelance income.

I suppose I will always be a teacher to some degree. Just don’t make me use my teacher voice!

Welcome to All In A Day

Early in 2023 I decided to focus my writing more towards travel and adventure. Travel writing is my passion – it doesn’t even feel like a job!

I also pledged to write an All In A Day piece every couple of weeks – Short adventures and musings that may or may not involve travel. I have loved this challenge and will continue for the forseeable future. Some of these experiences have become paid gigs that have been, or are about to be published in print or online.

While web content and copywriting (sometimes) pays the bills, and I enjoy the lifestyle freelance copywriting has allowed me to have, it doesn’t bring me the same joy of a well-worded travel piece or blog .

With changing economic times and AI thrown into the mix those web content and copywriting gigs have become more scarce. When businesses realise they can’t trust their business brand to AI there may be a turn around. But, until then travel writing has my back.

I hope you enjoy my blog. Unfortunately (or fortunately) if you spend time in my company you may also end up in my stories. I will always do my best to represent you in the shiniest way possible 🙂

What’s the skinny?

I will provide links and hints at the end of each blog.
The links I have provided are not sponsored, nor am I affiliated with any of the businesses I speak of (unless I say I am)
If you want me to write something for you, hit me up – this is my Lisa Ikin Writer hat.
I can write anything – web content, social media, blogs, emails…
Thanks for reading – you can subscribe and make comments 🙂

All in Day #8 Numbats & Egg Sandwiches

Numbat stalking in the Dryandra Woodland National Park in the Western Australian Wheatbelt

April 2023

Is there anything more delicious than a service station egg sandwich? The white bread fresh and sinfully soft with egg mixed through with mayonnaise, so creamy and so right. Pop the packet and reach for the sandwich with one hand while guiding the car with the other.

Damn you, egg sandwich, I missed the turn. Glance in the rearview mirror and slow down to savour the eggy goodness of a service station sandwich. Then back on track covered in crumbs.

I am on my way to the WA Wheatbelt for a couple of nights of numbat spotting and woyley watching with my friend Elaine. Numbats are diurnal so it will be numbats by day and woylies through the night.

Arrive at camp and brush off the crumbs before making my home for the next two days. Spend the afternoon chatting and relaxing – the sun is shining.

Burn-off smoke hangs low and obscures the sun turning it red – the same red as the breast of the Scarlett-capped robin I sighted earlier. The robin had flitted into view tantalisingly close but not close enough to get with my big lens.

Ash falls like snowflakes onto our tents and rests on our sleeves before moving onto the next surface. The burn-off season is here. Ravens cry far off, and parrots squabble in the trees behind. The air is thick, so thick it tickles your throat. Still no numbats and no sign of echidnas. Do they really exist in WA?

A generator bursts into life, cutting through the silence like a message from home. Lawnmowers on a Sunday afternoon?

Day Two

Numbat safari – driving at snail’s pace, eyes scanning the bush on either side of the gravel road. Foot hovering over the brake pedal. Not sure what I am looking for, but I will know it when I see it. “There’s one!” I press the brake and glide to a halt. 5 km/hour, hardly the stuff of screeching halts.

I fumble for my camera – lens cap off, turn on the camera. Numbat, small, striped and oh so delicate. I was expecting them to be bigger, but there it is, 20cm in length, mouth filled with leaf litter. She stops on top of a fallen log and looks around before scampering into the bush. My only photo shows a whisp of tail disappearing from view.

The second numbat and I am ready. Camera is on, lens cap is off and my finger is ready to focus and shoot. I capture her twice. Again, this one has leaves stuffed into her mouth and she poses for the camera and turns tail, stopping a short way away for a second shot, perfect camouflage.

Satisfied we complete the remaining 10 km of the 23km circuit slowly but not as slowly as the first half.

Back at camp, hail falls as the clouds charge overhead, black and looming, carrying fresh ice and fresh wind across the treetops and over the campsite below – our temporary home with plastic for walls and foldable furniture inside. Camping lacks substance but is substantially satisfying.

Another layer of clothing to warm against the impending weather. Will my tent leak?

Campers arrive and set up their temporary homes. Click clack, ladders up to houses atop cars. Chairs released from their bags, ready to receive bodies tired from travelling. Most people keep to themselves.

So still, now the storm has passed, and the local birds emerge to peck at the bark and retrieve grubs. Small birds, flittery and fast. Stop still while I press the shutter – click whir – got you, little one.

Camp food – always the simplest ingredients that taste the best. Salad and roast veg – leftovers from last night’s cook-up on the coals. Pumpkin sliced and placed on freshly warmed wraps. Cheese, pickled onion, salad and Japanese mayonnaise. A sprinkle of sea salt with pepper berry from Tasmania and a scattering of fine black pepper – Saxa. Balsamic glaze to finish off this fine meal. I could live on wraps (and service station sandwiches).

Still no echidna despite my scanning the land for the tell-tale round forms moving back and forth. Waddling awkwardly on clawed feet that extend sideways from prickly, furry bodies with a strange bill not unlike a bird’s beak. They freeze when discovered and bury their beaks into the earth not unlike a 3-year-old child hiding behind her hands “I can’t see you!” Echidna where are you?

A nocturnal tour of Barna Mia. Red torches so as not to harm their eyes. Small hopping marsupials, some that no longer exist in the wild, surround us. Cheeky possums (hardly endangered) join in and feast on chopped fruit. Families of restless children surround the animals preventing the shy Bilby from appearing. A glimpse of her from behind, big ears and a fluffy tail – like the Easter bunny – elusive. Then gasps as travelling “stars” appeared to cross the nightsky in a row. False alarm it was only Elon Musk.

The next morning is so cold it’s hard to get out of bed. Birds everywhere – the sudden appearance of the Rufus tree-creeper – a menacing name but they look so fluffy and sweet-natured. Little fat feathery bodies topped with small sharp beaks and soft brown eyes. They sit on damp logs absorbing the sun and occasionally pecking at bugs. They creep up the tree trunks just like their name suggests.

Pardalotes, Scarlett capped Robins, Djidi Djidis, Wattle birds and Shelduck swoop through camp posing left right and behind – cheeky glances over their shoulders.

Packing up under the threat of a looming shower. Neatly folded chairs, tables and tents slide into spaces and bags not made for the return of their occupants. Doors slam and hold everything in for the trip home. Fire extinguished to prevent the spread and firewood abandoned for the next inhabitants.

A fulfilling two days. Now, where is the closest service station?

A version of this post has been published on the We Are Explorers website.

What’s the skinny?

Egg sandwiches are best when made with soft white bread and lots of mayonaise (imho)
Dryandra Woodlands National Park is 175 km (two hours + 10 minutes) from Perth.
The camping is a first come first served basis. No booking
There are two main camp grounds – Congelin and Gnarla Mia
Take everything you need including water – no potable water is available at campsites
Lions Dryandra Woodlands Village is an ex-forest department settlement for logging families. Cabins and dorm style accomodation can be booked online.
Numbats are diurnal – they come out during the day.
Barna Mia Nocturnal Nocturnal Wildlife Experience is well worth a visit. Bookings before you leave Perth recommended.
Mobile coverage is hit and miss – download maps before you leave Perth.
The nearest town is Narrogin – 40 km away
The wilman Noongar people are the original inhabitants of this land.

Top Water Activities in Perth to Try Today

My top 5 things to do in the water include floating on an air mattress, snorkeling and drinking cocktails.

Updated January 2025

Once a month, Stand Up Paddle WA (SUPWA) holds a Paddle Loop on a quiet stretch of the Derbarl Yerrigan (Swan River) about 20 km from the city centre. A Paddle Loop is a self-motivated paddle where you nominate the time you think it will take to paddle either 2km or 4 km – the aim, is to get as close to your nominated time as possible. I like to do it because it pushes me to paddle faster than I would if left to my own devices, tootling along gazing at wildlife, and I get to catch up with paddlers from other parts of Perth.

Last Sunday the water was flat as flat and the breeze non existent AND I was on my new you-beaut board so I should have been faster than I was. It was one of those days and where energy reserves were low and a bit of a sore back held me back. The first prize is a pineapple, and yesterday I won the pineapple for the 4km – certainly not because I was the fastest in the field. Lucky I love pineapples!

In the beginning

Standup paddle boarding has been at the core of my life for about five years. See what I did there?

I love the water, be it fresh, salty, or in between. Being in and around the water is my happy place, and I worked my way through the whole gamut of floating and paddling devices before settling on my current ride, the stand up paddle board.

Lay Low on a Lilo

It all started with a lilo. Those people not from Tasmania might wonder what the heck I am on about. The lilo was what we slept on when we went camping and then floated in the dam or creek when we weren’t sleeping. An air mattress – to the uninitiated. They were always dark blue and red in colour and the pillow was a separate chamber. We never had fancy foot pumps when we were kids; the lilo was blown up with your mouth with pauses for the dizziness to pass when you had blown out one too many times without inhaling.

The smell of a lilo was the smell of rubber and canvas – such a nostalgic stench. I remember standing on the banks of a river with the lilo firmly gripped in my fists, holding the plugs in place. Then taking a deep breath because I knew it was going to be bloody cold and slamming my stomach into the soft air cushion. “Phwoomp” and the mattress would partially submerge causing a sharp intake of breath and the inevitable squeal. The plugs, if you didn’t hold them in would sometimes expel with the force of the water, and down you would go.

Floating on a lilo is still on my list of top 5 things to do in the water. These days I use one of those flocked air mattresses that display a warning “This is not to be used as a floatation device.” Why not? It floats, and it’s comfortable.

The lilo was proceeded by several homemade structures we called rafts as kids. Sticks, floating containers, and a shit load of string. Most got us out into the middle of a dam or a creek and then slowly started to submerge.

Canoeing and surfing (in the wind and not)

I tried Canadian canoes – hired for a weekend of river exploration in my 20s. Bulky and hard to manage, but a good ride nonetheless.

I dabbled in windsurfing – only to find that getting it up was one thing, keeping it up and moving forward was another. Seeing as I learned to windsurf in Darwin Harbour, the thought of being taken and rolled by a saltwater croc kept me firmly glued to the board. Not to mention the box jellyfish that could seriously zap you during the wet season.

The only other water sport I attempted in the top end was a pumped up inner tube cast into the tumbling waters of the creek nicknamed “Tumbling Waters” about 40 km down the track from Darwin. The whole of Darwin converged on the creek at the beginning of the wet season when waters were high. Highly dangerous but so much fun!

My arrival in Perth some years later had me hankering to surf. My newfound friends all surfed, and “How hard could it be?” Super hard, it turned out. My attempts at body surfing ended with some hard knocks and a lot of sand in my knickers. Big waves were not for me. Riding a board on top of big waves proved too much for this Tassie girl from the bush.

I’d rather be sailing

I made some different friends – Uni students who lived in a share house in Nedlands. One of the guys had a Hobie cat that we would take out on the river on Sundays, next to the old brewery before it became swanky apartments and expensive dining establishments. The Cat had a trapeze and we would get up to speed before hanging ourselves off the side – I loved those days. Floundering around in the water avoiding the brown Swan River jellyfish and having absolutely no knowledge that bull sharks even existed!

Row row row your boat

Rowing found me (or I found it) when my own kids were teenagers. I answered an ad for “learn to row in 8 sessions” at the local rowing club, where we were taught how to scull and received a lot of shouted instructions from the shore. Six months in, and I was the fittest I had ever been. Up at 4:30 am three mornings a week. A gruelling training timetable that included running, cycling, and rowing in order to compete at a state level. Strangely, the shouting never stopped. I loved it while I was doing it, and it took me all around the state but one can only handle being shouted at and living the life of an (elite?) athlete for so long.

Kayaking (or birdwatching)

I left rowing and took up kayaking – the dark side (according to my rowing buddies). Kayaking was a more leisurely pursuit when I could take my camera and do bird-watching. I found kayaks hard to load by myself, and the seats were not good for my lower back, so I slowly stopped carting the bulky craft to the river. They occasionally came camping with us to Lane Pool – a lot of work for 30 minutes of paddling.

Standup Paddleboarding

I was without flotation devices for some time, and at the end of my long-distance running obsession that ended following a back injury that just wouldn’t go away, when a friend talked me into going standup paddling with her. She had a spare board, and I am always game for anything. A couple of sessions and I was hooked. The boards were easy to load on my own, reasonably priced, and standing to paddle did my lower back a world of good. Not to mention the core that everyone needs to mention when you say you are going SUP-ing.

I enrolled in some classes, and before too long, I was doing some fancy footwork and hardly falling in. I have now just acquired my third (or is it my fourth board? – a Red Equipment 13’2″ Voyager inflatable touring board. I love that I can cruise quietly along the river and still watch birds, or I can go fast and compete with other paddlers in the growing number of events available to standup paddlers. And my core? Well, let’s just say I can crack walnuts.

My top 5 things to do in water (in no order)

1. Float in the ocean sans device

2. Float on a lilo – in any type of water

3. Paddleboard

4. Drink cocktails

5. Snorkel

What’s the skinny?

Standup Paddleboarding is very popular in Perth. There are many suitable locations and groups to join.
Standup Paddle WA hold a paddle loop every month at Ascot Kayak Club – see page for details.
If you don’t have a paddle board there are a number of places you can hire one or grab a lesson: Suptonic Australia, SUP Central WA, Soulkite, Funcats Perth SUP School (some places may close for winter).
It is advisable to have a lesson or two to ensure you have the right technique.
Despite the cold, Winter is the best time to be out on the water

All in A Day #6 Lane Pool Reserve Camping

When bookclub decided to go bush we didn’t expect to be treated to Mother Nature at her most rock n roll.

March 2023

All in a Day #6 could be more aptly titled “All in a Night” but to maintain continuity the title remains!

“It’s not going to rain much,” – were the words I heard just before I rolled over to go to sleep on night two of our bookclub camping trip.

The day had been idyllic. We woke that morning to the sounds of Currawongs, Ravens, Kookaburras and black cockatoos, while the soft rays of sunshine filtered through the Jarrah forest onto our tents at Charlies Flat in Lane Pool Reserve. After a hearty cooked breakfast of scrambled eggs (the best Doci had ever had!) mushrooms and tomatoes washed down with lashings of coffee and tea, we decided on a walk and a swim.

Doci and I set off to walk to Island Pool while the others opted to drive. Island Pool, about 1.5 km from our camp spot at Charlies Flat, is the widest expanse of water in the currently still Murray River. It is a popular swimming spot with deep clear water and rocks for basking upon. There is a small island of rocks in the centre, hence the name.

Doci and I first heard the rumbles of far-off thunder while walking and decided that it didn’t seem close enough to be of concern. The clouds had cleared and there seemed to enough blue sky for us to assume that all was going to be well weather-wise, that and Doci’s bones said it was not going to rain. Little did we know that Mother Nature was merely sound-checking for the main event!

We floated in the not too cold waters of Island Pool for about half an hour – waiting for our fingers and toes to take on wrinkled “granny hands” and for the peaceful surroundings to sooth our bones and minds. Water is certainly the great healer.

The remainder of the day was punctuated by rumblings and we had the occasional discussion that rain might ensue, but not enough to stop us from heading for another welcome dip closer to camp after lunch and a small glass of bubbly! The five of us set off for the river with pool toys and a blow up mattress and slipped into the cool waters for a second swim. Our swimming souls sated we headed back for more snacks and further alcoholic offerings – after all being outdoors makes you ravenous (and thirsty)!

Snack time merged into dinner time where we all ate our body weight in cheese and nibblies and enjoyed the sounds of the evening. The sounds we had heard the night before and thought to be recalitrant birds was actually microbats – so we recorded their high pitched sounds for future reference.

It was starting to get dark when we decided the rumblings were closer and the sky looked slightly more ominous than before. We had a discussion about whether or not we should batten down the hatches or not worry too much. It was Elaine who said “Imagine how we would feel if we did nothing and the storms took us by surprise” .” So we sprang into action. It should be mentioned at this point that we had no phone coverage so we were very much relying on Doci’s bones and the general vibe of the atmosphere to accurately predict the weather.

Doci’s bones were still communicating with her and she assured us that she didn’t think anything major was going to occur weather-wise. We decided to err on the side of caution and scurried about putting things away and making sure that everything was out of the weather.

The thunder and now lightning was circling ever closer as we played a game of Bananagrams and had final drinks before bed. A spot and then another spot gave us reason to congratulate ourselves on our timely battening down of hatches. I was the first to go and tuck myself into my tent and I listened to the drops increase to a pattering and the voices of the others still discussing the likelihood of us being washed away.

Doci’s words “It’s not going to rain much” were still ringing in my ears when I woke to what can only be described as a surround sound vortex of continuous rumbling circling above our camp site punctuated by lightning flashes and, by this stage, torrential rain.

To say I felt vulnerable is an understatement – protected by a couple of millimetres of tent fabric and the massive trees looming above me, I asked that Mother Nature at least be kind and if I were to be struck by lightning, make it fast and painless. Needing to pee added to the anxiety – nothing like the sound of flowing water to make that thought never leave your head!

I hoped everyone else was faring ok – Jill in her swag, Nat in her newly purchased Aldi tent, Doci snug in her Getz and Lainey up in her roof top tent (closer than all of us to the elements). I lay there watching the lightning and made up my mind that it was sheet lightning and not the dangerous forked variety. I am not sure if that made me feel better, or if sheet lightning is indeed the safer version of its cousin, forked but I did eventually drift off to sleep only to start dreaming about forked lightning, and once again woke with a start!

I don’t think I have ever experienced such a storm like that before. The rumbling didn’t stop. I can only liken it to a surround sound speaker system where the sound moved from left to right. Nature at its finest and most awesome (in the true sense of the word).

Needless to say we all survived the night – everyone emerged from their respective accomodations with wonder and awe in their voices and a different perspective and personal experience. Everyone’s tents held up under the heavy rain and our battening down of hatches was welcomed as most of our belonging were dry and protected during the night.

We returned to the city where it still appeared to be dry and storms had not happened with the same magnitude that we we expereinced. When describing the night to my family that night I realised that you really had to be there to even fathom what it felt like to be an insignificant dot in the universe while nature raged and rumbled above.

The five of us will never forget the night nature turned it on.

What’s the skinny?

Lane Poole Reserve is in Dwellingup – One hour + 20 minutes (114 Km) from Perth.
Camping must be booked ahead of time for most camp areas.
There are 50 000 acres to explore – for hiking, mountain biking, horse riding or kayaking.
Take everything you need including potable water.
Always check before lighting a fire – fire restrictions apply.
Mobile coverage is hit and miss. Download maps before leaving Perth.
The closest town is Dwellingup

Vale Muesli Aristotle the axolotl

Muesli the axolotl is survived by Napolean (her daughter) and hundreds of babies (location unknown)

“Hello, do you have any axolotls?” It was my fifth phone call to one of many petshops in Perth and this one bore fruit!

“Yes, we have an albino and she has only just come in” replied the petshop attendant.

“I will take her!” I screamed, “Can I pay by credit card?”

Muesli Aristotl the albino axolotl moved into the Year 5 classroom at Quintilian Primary school on the 23 February, 2015. Her pink fins and translucent flesh endeared her to most and disgusted some. She was named by the children – a double barrel name because we couldn’t just settle on one! We were not sure of her age or origin but guessed that she could have been anywhere from 3- 5 years old.

Over the years Muesli followed me from class to class. In each class the children would learn how to clean the tank and take turns to feed her. We would produce axolotl fact sheets in writing and kids would draw pictures of her for art classes. Every school holidays she would come home with me to dwell in peace for a few weeks. Occasionally she would go to someone’s house when I went away.

One school holidays in 2017 I decided she needed a friend and Hahn the male axolotl arrived to wreak havoc – babies were produced in their hundreds – You can read the story of Hahn and Muesli in Readers Digest “A Whole Lotl Love” – published in 2022. The axolotl story was also told at Barefaced Stories in Perth a couple of years before (see link on my website).

When I left the primary school there was no option but to take her with me – no one was keen to take on axolotl parenting. Muesli and Napolean (Muesli’s daughter who was taken on by another teacher before she left to sail around Australia) have spent the last couple of years living in luxury – befitting of a grand dame of the axolotl family. A massive tank and all the frozen shrimp she wanted.

I noted that she hadn’t been eating very well over the past few weeks and her previously beautiful fins had become short and stumpy. I figured she is probably eleven plus years old and was drawing to the end of her days. This morning I scooped her from the tank and I swear she had a smile on her face!

Napoleon now has full range of the huge tank and will probably go on to live a ripe old age. Thanks Muesli Aristotle the Albino Axolotl for all the stories you spawned (and the babies!) and for the joy you brought to many!

All in a Day #5 Nannup Music Festival

When festivals all but ground to a halt in 2021 and 2022 there was a part of me that wondered if we would ever return to normal. 2023 has rolled around and festivals are back!

Nannup Music Festival 2023 – Festivals are back! March 2023

Festival companions: Anthony, Elaine, Leanne & Helen

Nannup Music Festival is an annual tradition – the music festival falls on the long weekend in March at the start of Autumn. It’s that time of the year when the sun keeps shining, and the humidity is hanging around, making everything and every one slightly sweaty.

I have been going to Nannup Music Festival for many years with a group of friends who camp together on the banks of the basking Blackwood River, just a short walk to the heart of the festival. We usually volunteer (well, some of us do) and get free entry to the festival. The last time I volunteered it was as the bus driver – I circled Nannup in a mini bus until the late night hours!

This year was the first festival to be held in two years. Last year the festival was cancelled due to Covid restrictions, but we went and camped sans music. But in 2023, it was back on, and we were pretty excited to be there!

Nannup is a beautiful town set in the forest about 3.5 hours from Perth. The town hosts the music festival like a well-oiled machine. The pub is open to everyone, even if you don’t have a ticket. The other venues require you to have a festival ticket.

You can wander at will and enter any venue with the volunteer or ticket wristband. The locals turn it on for the 4000 festival goers as they churn out marron pies from the bakery, beers, and counter meals at the pub, and even hold a Saturday morning market at the local chapel.

This year we volunteered behind the bar. We had applied for our RSAs (Responsible Serving of Alcohol) online the year before, so we were ready to pour beer and make idle conversation with punters. The bars are situated in most venues inside a gated area. The drinks selection is simple and easy to serve – no fancy cocktails or difficult requests.

So, let’s start at the beginning… Saturday

We had arrived the evening before (some of us a night before that) and set up tents, pop-top sleepers, chairs, and camping paraphernalia. The banks of the Blackwood in March are still lush, and the water throws up reflections of trees.

One tree, in particular, sits opposite our site – its roots cling tenuously to the bank. Every year there seems to be more soil washed out. The teens love to swing from the rope attached to a high branch. The more daring climb to the top and bommie down into the water – depth unknown. While we sit on the bank, peering through fingers not wanting to watch.

We awoke to the sound of cackling Kookaburras at dawn. So first up, put on the coffee pot and the kettle for tea. We slowly rose, groaned, and stretched as we waited for coffee or toast to cook. It was Leanne’s 60th birthday, so we had planned to give her a surprise lunch at midday.

We checked our programs for the music we would like to see/hear, and Anthony, Leanne and I set out for an early show while others lingered to set up the table with tasty treats and cake. We started our Saturday music feast with a band at the Amphitheater – a lovely way to ease ourselves into the festival.

Coffees in hand, we sat in the shade close to the stage. Once the band finished, we meandered back to the camp browsing the stalls for trinkets and clothing we didn’t require. I stopped and booked a reflexology session with a good friend set up in the trees. Sunday 10:00 am for a relaxing foot massage –I will need one by then!

Back at camp, the others have put out boards with a delicious selection of cheeses and dips, fresh tomatoes from the markets, and a cake purchased in Perth. We popped a Prosecco and settled in for a feast, conscious that we had a bar shift looming at 2:30 pm. Birthday gifts were exchanged, and birthday songs were sung before we decided to rest briefly before our shift started. Chairs, akimbo, and mattresses aloft, we surrendered to the location.

Much discussion was generated around the colour of this year’s volunteer attire. The shirt was an insipid cream colour that we decided was oatmeal (after photographing it and using Google Lens). The last time we volunteered, the shirts were black – way more rock and roll!

2:15 rolled around quicker than we expected, so we quickly donned our oatmeal and set off for volunteer central to sign on for our shifts and pick up our lanyards. I had never volunteered behind the bar – despite being a bar chick in my 20s for many years. Just like riding a bike, I decided. I had a shift at the Tigerville bar while Leanne and Elaine headed for the Amphitheater.

The shift was fun, with some great bands backgrounding the session. Taking money, popping cans, and chatting to happy festivalgoers was easy. Most people came and thanked us for volunteering, and the locals were very appreciative. Before I knew it, my first shift was over, and we headed back to camp for a cold beer and feet up before dinner.

Everyone converged on camp simultaneously, where we shared our various afternoon experiences. Those who didn’t volunteer had been out seeing bands, while the bar tenders had tales of beer cans and bluster. Everyone was hungry and ready for dinner from the food trucks on the festival grounds. We ripped off the oatmeal shirts and dressed in warmer clothing as the weather had cooled considerably since the afternoon.

We had dinner of Nasi Goreng from the Indonesian truck and consulted our band schedules as we made plans to enjoy a couple of hours of music and entertainment. Most of us were tired, but we stayed up until 10:00 pm (not a bad effort!)

Helen wanted to linger and see Liz Stringer at 10:30, but we decided it was too late, so we left her to see Liz alone and made our way back under the bridge to our campsite. There was laughter and banter as we slipped and tripped on the gravel path, trudged through the clean river sand, and tramped across the boardwalk.

A final glass of wine back at camp, as a nightcap, had us falling into our tents. As I jammed my earplugs in and drifted off to the muted sounds of music and laughing campmates, I was filled with anticipation for the following day. Nannup never disappoints.

and a poem to end…

Raising the Bar – a bar vollies lot.

JUICY is my pale ale
can I have two on card please?
I bought some Harry Angus merch
Can you help me find my CD s?
Sparkling wine and bundy rum
Can I have a stubby holder for free ?
Give me a can of your crappiest beer
It’s for my mate, not me!
SSB by the bottle and keep cups filmed with dust
I want some bottled water please
Security guards look nonplussed
Managers are AWOL
Can i take your all your fifties?
Open the till hand over cash
Just press down one of the shift keys
Before we know it the bar is closed
Wine and beer to pack and stack
Off with the oatmeal vollie shirt
Next year we’ll be back!

What’s the skinny?

Nannup is about 3.5 hours from Perth
The town of Nannup hosts the Nannup Music Festival every year in March 1 – 4
The camping grounds for the festival are situated on the town golf course
Riverbend Caravan Park (where we camp) requires a booking 12 months ahead
The Blackwood River is usually very still at this time of the year.
The nearby Barrabup pool is a forest pool not far from Nannup and the perfect place to cool down in Summer.
Volunteers can register interest from October each year. There are many roles you can apply for including bar work, set up, rubbish collection and ticketing.

All in a Day #4 A Day in The Life of a Freelancer

Finding time to blog in 2023 is not proving as easy as I thought! This is a day in the life…

February 2023

Making time to journal or document your life is tricky when life gets busy. Unfortunately, I was lulled into the post-summer holiday’s false sense of “I have all the time in the world” earlier this month, and now I don’t have time to scratch myself.

So here goes #4 – A typical freelance writing work day.

6:00 am – up with the birds

I wake with the sun and the sound of chattering lorikeets in the trees outside my bedroom window – it’s usually 6:00 am (or earlier). As I drag myself from bed I grab some items off the bedside table – phone, glasses, and watch, always with good intentions of going for a brisk walk, a paddle, or a pilates class. Sometimes not one of those options occurs. Scooping a pair of lycra leggings from the floordrobe, I hop across to the bathroom battling gravity and the slight vertigo of getting up too quickly.

A quick check of my notifications, hoping to intercept a fantastic job offer where I can write for an hour and get paid enough to get me through to next month. No, just the usual Substack updates from writers like me who write for money but like to write for no other reason than they like to write.

There is the occasional LinkedIn notification pleading with me to go “pro” again, teasing me with “someone has viewed your profile.” I know from past experience that the only people who view my profile are writers like myself who are curious about what I do. Don’t get me wrong, I have great connections through LinkedIn, and most of them bear fruit. Not this morning, however.

Somewhere between pulling on my Asics and reaching for a water bottle, my notifications ping. Once again, I am swept up in checking the latest headlines and finishing the Wordle for the day. Today is going to be the day I get it in two! Yeah right. What sort of a word is “usage”?

6:15 am – bothering the wildlife

Out the front door and down the path to the park for exercise, deep thinking, and communing with nature. I also check on the wildlife around the lake. Unfortunately, botulism has reared its ugly head, and water birds are prone to this paralysing disease during the Summer months – fortunately, fluids and a stopover in the wildlife hospital can have them back on their feet. So I am now the weirdo walking up to ducks and asking, “are you ok?’ before scaring them into entering the water. (If they can get up, they are usually fine).

After three laps of the lake and much scrutiny of feathered friends, I am ready to return for coffee, breakfast, and work. I always set myself a time to start and get ready for work like I would if I went to an office, without the crazy peak hour traffic, school drop-offs and corporate clothing (shorts and tshirt do perfectly thank you!) I do miss my morning drive with a podcast, though, so sometimes I put one while eating breakfast, for old-time’s sake.

8:30 am – work meeting (with myself)

If it’s Monday, I start with a work meeting – me, myself, and I. We draw up a list of outstanding things from the previous week and list all those items we need to do this week. I make sure we all get to have our say, and then we delegate tasks. My blog is an item that gets carried over and over until now! Chasing up accounts is another – why can’t people pay their bills?

8:45 am I open my computer, log in to Google and check my emails. I have requests for social media posts, a start-up’s web content, and a Capability Statement brief. Once I have worked out my priorities, I get started. Social media posts are usually pretty quick; I have those finished in an hour. Then, I put them aside for a final read later in the day. A bunch of web content for a start-up – 50% of my time is spent researching and working out what I am supposed to be writing about.

12:00 – 1:30 – break time

Lunchtime arrives (anytime between 11:30 and 1:30), and I stop. Sometimes I will get in the car, drive to the beach, and float in the ocean for 30 minutes (yes, I time myself); it’s cheaper than paying $150 to float in a tank with woo-woo music filling my ears. Sometimes I jump on my ebike and go for a spin – cool breeze in my hair and all that. Sometimes I turn on the TV and watch a doco to switch off my writing brain. Nothing like the dulcet tones of David Attenborough to soothe the thought process. Of course, I also eat during this time!

1:30 pm – more work

Back to work – I always feel refreshed after my lunch break and I am ready to tackle the Capability Statement (yeah, I had to ask what one of those was, too!); it’s a trumped-up version of a profile. I sweat my way through the statement and then have a reread of any work I have completed during the day. I send any finished work to clients with an internal sigh of relief and then commence to second guess my writing ability – imposter syndrome is real.

4:00 pm – imposter syndrome kicks in

4:00pm rolls around, and I start thinking about finishing up. I go back and check what I have already sent once more and cringe inwardly as I pick up sentences that could sound better – or could they? Finally, I let it go and leave the computer for another day. I check the pilates app to see if I can squeeze in a class – BINGO; there is a space.

5:00 pilates and chill

Heading back from pilates feeling stretched and aligned on my ebike, I do another lap of Hyde Park Lake and bother the ducks again. If I have my camera, I will stop and take some snaps. Like, I need any more bird photos on my computer! Sometimes I chance bumping into my family and stop for granddaughter cuddles and family gossip.

Home for chores – taking in the washing, emptying the dishwasher, feeding the bird, and checking on the axolotls’ tank. If my partner is home, he will probably cook dinner; if he is away, I have eggs on toast. Time for some TV and then bed, where I attempt to read another two pages of my current novel. It’s two steps forward, one step back, I’m afraid. I feel my new year’s resolution to read more books slipping through my fingers like sand at the beach at lunchtime.

Most workdays go like this – except when I am teaching small people, but that’s a whole other story!!

What’s the skinny?

Freelance writing can be very rewarding.
Australian Writers Centre hold courses for freelance copywriters, feature writers and travel writing – I did my courses with AWC but I am not affiliated with them or being paid to promote their courses.
If you like the idea of being your own boss and working from home this could be the career for you.
There is a lot of self-motivation required and some days are slow.
People will pay you to write for them because not everyone can write.

All in a day #3 Hobart, Tasmania

Part 3 of “All in a day” takes me and two good friends to see the highs and more highs of Hobart town!

Hobart – the highs and the higher

January 2023

Travel companions: three enthusiastic Australians from the west

Our first morning in Hobart, Tasmania started like most days during our Tassie travels. Coffee and breakfast were on the agenda. We arrived in Hobart the previous day – all of us had met at MoMA (Museum of Modern Art) and ended our day with drinks at the Shamrock before sending Elaine on her way to help prepare for a wedding.

The previous morning, Leanne had enjoyed a delicious breakfast at the café down the road from our digs, Straight up. A vegetarian café with a delightful selection of vegetarian and vegan options and great coffee.

We were heading up the mountain that looms over Hobart town, kunanyi (Mt Wellington), that morning, so we headed to Straight Up for breakfast which was incredible. Some takeaway donuts were purchased for snacks should we get hungry during our mountain adventure!

Kunanyi and its foothills are the traditional lands of the Muwinina people. It is situated on an 18,011-ha reserve on the doorstep of nipaluna, lutruwita. The mountain is 1270m high and features some fantastic dolerite rock formations and a range of alpine vegetation. Kunanyi has a range of walks and hikes suited to climbers of all experience levels. The truly fit (or truly crazy) cycle to the top and enjoy a downhill run.

We drove our car up. The mountain is very close to Hobart city centre, and it took us about 45 minutes to reach the top. We were treated with a clear view and completely still conditions. The last time I had summited Wellington, I was making snow angels, and it was the middle of winter. The locals say it is a mountain of many moods.

The infamous Tasman Bridge from the mountain

We took advantage of the ideal conditions, explored the boardwalks, and ventured part-way down the zig-zag trail to get some photos. Tourists in their droves took selfies and group photos from every vantage point. The quiet side of the mountain where the Zig Zag trail starts was the most peaceful part.

Photos snapped and views admired; we decided that a swim was in order (as you do when in Tassie and the temperature is over 23 degrees). We chose the shores of Sandy Bay under the shadow of Wrest Point Casino, Australia’s first casino. Sandy Bay is a well-to-do suburb in Hobart, not far from the city centre, with beautiful beaches on the banks of the Derwent River.

Hardly the spot for nasty rips or dumpers but it was nice to know we were safe!

The surf lifesavers were set up on the beach, and the sun was shining, so we changed and plunged into the cool waters of the bay. Nice once you were in! The water was clear, and the bottom sandy like its namesake.

We devoured the delicious donuts from Straight Up. They were amazing, filled with chocolate, jam, and custard, and coated in sugar. Then, sand and sugar-coated, we showered in the freshwater showers, got dressed, and went to find a supermarket for our supplies back at the hostel were running low.

It’s a good time to talk about our digs. We decided to stay at the Pickled Frog, a backpackers in Liverpool Street. Leanne had booked the deluxe apartment, “Frog Apartment,” with her own kitchen, bathroom, and a chandelier! Wendy and I went for the shared room with the general hoi polloi. I am no stranger to backpacker accommodation, so I expected lots of young people and possible loud noise, which is pretty much what it was. However, it was okay for a few days and had us situated in the middle of Hobart, close to the restaurants and a walk from Salamanca Place.

Sleep was broken with comings and goings all hours of the night and day and alarms going off super early for those who lived and worked in Hobart. However, it was reasonably priced, and the people running the hostel were super friendly and helpful. I will also say, I am no stranger to broken sleep and noisy nights being a frequenter of music festivals – but maybe my youth hostel days are over?

We returned to the hostel for a rest before the evening plans for eating oysters and taking in the docks commenced. The previous night had been spent at a delicious Greek Restaurant, Mezethes Greek Taverna, in Salamanca Place. The staff really went out of their way to make us comfortable and welcome. The food was deluxe, and we started with a small portion of oysters.

So we decided that more oysters were in order – Mures on the docks was my choice for a seafood feast. The multi-award-winning Mures is a Tasmanian institution. The Mures have served quality fish for over 45 years from various locations around Hobart.

The seafood did not disappoint. We washed down fresh oysters with Tasmanian beer and feasted on a shared seafood basket. The downstairs part of Mures, where we dined, is very casual, and the food is more suited to families and big gatherings. Whereas upstairs, the posh part of Mures serves seafood but in a more refined manner. We finished our massive meal with huge scoops of ice cream from the ice creamery inside the restaurant.

With hunger sated (or over-sated), we started our stroll back to the hostel, only to discover a shindig in progress in the local park. An Irish-style folk band had the crowd dancing and clapping – Craicpot was their name, and Irish jigs were their game. After eating and drinking so much, a wee dance was just what we needed, so we stayed and jigged and clapped until the band finished their set.

The park was crowded with locals and visitors eating food from food trucks and enjoying a family picnic on the lawn. It was the perfect ending to a day with us up mountains, swimming in the waters, and eating ourselves silly. Finally, we headed for bed (and hopefully sleep!) to ready ourselves for a visit to Salamanca Markets in the morning. Goodnight Hobart!

What’s the skinny?

Hobart is the capital city of Tasmania
Hobart is a port City with a rich maritime history.
Salamanca Market is held every Saturday morning on the docks – well worth a visit.
Mures Seafood are stalwarts of the Hobart restaurant scene – fish, chips and oysters washed down with a cold beer is a must! Or you can go fancy and dine in the upper deck section (same fish but fancier)
Mt Wellington/ kunanyi looms over Hobart (1270 m) and is worth a visit any time of the year. Snow in winter if the road is open, and amazing vistas in Summer.
The Tasman Bridge is a magnificent bridge – cross it at least once!
MoMA is a must – you can catch a ferry across from the docks or drive and Park. David Walsh’s collection is ever changing and will have you questioning everything.

All in a day # 2 Myrtle Bank to Ansons Bay, Tasmania

Week 2 – All in a day 2023 – a roadtrip to the east coast of Tasmania

Tassie Roadtrip – Northeast to Ansons Bay January 2023

Travel companions: two enthusiastic travellers from the West

With Mt Barrow looming, we left Myrtle Bank in the Northeast of Tasmania/lutruwita for the East Coast – Tasmania’s Bay of Fires. A convoy of two. Three adventurous women from Western Australia!

Ansons Bay, remote paradise (as the entrance sign declares) is on the Northeast coast of Tasmania. The Bay of Fires, situated on the land of the Palawa people, was described as such by the early explorers when they arrived on Tasmania’s shores to see fires burning. The eye-catching orange lichen that covers the coastal rocks in this part of the world contrasts directly with the wild blue seas and green coastal scrub.

Eddystone Point Lighthouse/lutruwita is the closest sentinel that keeps ships from the treacherous rocks of the area. The lighthouse is just inside Mt. William National Park and is accessible by a gravel road.

Our first stop was Scottsdale – around 40 kilometres from Myrtle Bank. Scottsdale is the small town where I went to high school, spent weekends with my best mate, and got up to all sorts of mischief—being an “out of towner,” I more often than not spent entire weekends in Scottsdale.

A stop in Scottsdale always entails a curly pasty at the Scottsdale Bakery, a browse in the op shops, and shopping for stores at Woollies. So, our op shop haul packed in the back, ice in the esky, food shopping done, and wine and beer purchased, we set off towards Derby, the mountain bike capital of Tasmania.

Derby was an ex-tin mining town with no future and cheap real estate before it became the darling of the Mountain Bike scene. Tasmania now boasts world-class mountain bike tracks, and people come from all over the world to travel the trails. It was here we used to go in the 80s to watch or compete in the Derby River derby – homemade craft set sail in the freezing waters over a weekend where Derby came to life for a moment only to go back into hibernation for the remaining 360 days of the year.

We stopped here for firewood and to call the Tasmanian Fire Department to get permission to light a fire on the block. The town of Derby was buzzing with bikes and people. A block in Derby that could be bought for next to nothing a decade or more ago now sells for six figures.

Gladstone, the last petrol station/shop/hotel before Ansons, was advertising a music festival that looked like it was heavy metal inclined for the coming Saturday night. A mutual agreement to bypass this particular musical offering was made without any discussion required.

The drive from Gladstone to Ansons Bay is via a gravel road and passes through some lush farming country where fresh-cut hay assaults the senses. The occasional copse of bush punctuates the trip. We had our eyes peeled for wombats and echidnas and were sad to observe roadkill that included wombats and Tasmanian Devils.

After around 30 minutes, we crested the hill and entered Ansons Bay. The view of the inlet and ocean beyond always takes my breath away. The inlet on this day was dark blue, and the ocean aqua – remote paradise indeed!

My block is a bush block sitting on the hill overlooking the bay, a mere 100 metres from the bay. Once the gate had been wrestled with, and we had given the caravan and shed annex a quick once over with the broom, we unpacked food, clothing, knitting, notebooks, novels, cameras, and games.

The beds could wait; it was time to go and check out the bay, where the local fishermen, pelicans, and dogs greeted us like long-lost friends. The water felt warm and was relatively clear, and the locals were curious.

“Where you from?”It seems everyone has a link to Western Australia, knows someone, or has lived there at some stage.

Our stroll took us past shacks and caravans of varying sizes – little, it seemed, had changed since my visit eight months earlier. Ansons Bay is like the holiday destination that time forgot. Electricity is available, but some properties, including mine, are not hooked to the grid. There is no petrol station, no shop and very little mobile coverage. The telephone tower was placed tantalisingly close but not close enough.

The locals have signposted an area just before you head down the hill into the town named “connection cove,” where you can pull in to answer emails and messages and update your socials. So close yet so far, and dare I say it – One Job!

We were feeling a bit warm, so we decided a swim was in order, and the nearby Policeman’s point was beckoning. The road out to Policeman’s Point is gravel and takes you to the inlet, where the brackish waters of the bay meet the pounding waves of the Tasman Sea. The tide was on its way out when we arrived at the popular camping site, exposing the vast sand flats, a popular fishing spot for campers and locals alike.

We immersed ourselves in the clear blue water, dodging blue bottles and rushing seaweed. The water was deliciously cooling without being too cold. It massaged our skin and washed away a week of business and travel. All that fresh air and salt water excited our senses, and suddenly all we could think of was nibbles and drinks. So we started back for camp only to discover Elaine had lost her phone. A trip back to the beach and the phone was right where she had dropped it!

The sun was still beating down at 5:00 pm, so we found some shade and set ourselves up with beers in hand and a tray full of delicious morsels. Never had anything tasted so good.

Even though it is nowhere near cool enough for a fire, we thought we should light one as we had permission to do so. The fire crackled at a distance, and our senses were loaded with everything that is good and fine in a remote paradise.

A day to remember and one of many to come.

What’s the skinny?

Ansons Bay is situated on the “remote beaches” region of Tasmania in the North East.
If travelling from Launceston allow a good two hours and a couple of stops – 165 km.
One of those stops has to be the Scottsdale Bakery for curly pasties and scones. Supermarket shopping can also be done here.
Derby (Mountain bike capital of Tassie) is worth a stop to soak up the mountain biking vibe. The Blue Derby Mountain Bike Trail is world class.
Gladstone is the last petrol/booze stop before Ansons Bay where this are no shops and the Gladstone Hotel does a super counter meal.
Camping is only available in the designated camping area of Policeman’s Point (15 minutes drive from Ansons Bay) or further towards St Helens.
Check with the Fire Department before lighting fires.
Mt William National Park is accessible from Ansons Bay.
When driving at night slow down so as not to run over any wildlife.
Mobile coverage is sketchy – download any maps you might need.
You can use the telephone box situated next to the fire station to make free calls within Australia.

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