Across Continents

Ken's Blog

Acceptable Apartheid

May 10th, 2011

"At least we haven’t killed all ours" she quipped. Referring to the indigenous peoples. Bit blunt. But she did have a point. Instead, until not so long ago, imposing restrictions on them. Quite a few. Exclusions that bore an uncanny resemblance to Apartheid. But a more "acceptable" form. Avoiding the wrath of the international community. Condemnation of others.

Curious why Australia ever got away with this sort of behaviour. Perhaps because most early settlers were of English descent. Supposedly bringing with them a sense of fair play. Surely imposing restrictions – controls – because they were necessary? And then there’s numerical superiority. Far more immigrants than indigenous peoples. Much easier to keep Aborigines out of sight. It’s a big country. Which helps.

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Bargain breakfast

May 10th, 2011

You’d be forgiven for thinking paying seven bucks – about four pounds fifty – for a continental breakfast something of an extravagance. Cheaper to self-cater. But the magic word was buffet. Help yourself. Confident I could devour far more than I could ever buy myself for that amount. Cereal. Stacks of toast. Fresh fruit. Gallons of tea. Well, almost.

There’d even been trays of thick cut bacon, fried eggs and mushrooms. Laid on for the numerous mining company employees staying at the van park. Sue, busy in the kitchen, had seen me on the road the previous day. Assured me I’d waved as she’d passed on her Harley. Generous plateful of left-overs quickly appearing.

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Marlborough nights

May 9th, 2011

marltent

Irony no doubt lost. 5.45 am. He’d started up his truck. Realised the radio had been left on. Quickly killed it. A sentiment – the infliction of wanton bodily harm – shared by anyone camping along that side of the van park. Furthest from the Bruce Highway. Where we’d all been encouraged to pitch for a peaceful night.

Problem was, the truck had pulled up outside the boundary fence around eight the previous evening. Then, for fifteen minutes or so each hour, its refrigeration unit would run up. Not some humming domestic affair. Industrial unit. One you could hear, quite literally, a mile away.

Nobody slept. Not much anyway. Next morning. Mutterings in the wash room. Fairly certain the driver had stayed on the site. Probably far from his cab. And the rest of us. If he had half a brain. Which I doubted.

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Drawn to the light

May 9th, 2011

Drawn to the light from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.

Ken describes the advantages – and downsides – of camping by a light in much of Queensland. And the bit about the generator finally shutting down? Bit premature as it turned out. But that’s another story….

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Cousins

May 9th, 2011

Along the highway south of Mackay a few small communities. Insular. Often greeted by those who’d seen me earlier on the road. Either that or their cousin had. Also discovering that truckies keep their eye out for cyclists. No relations you understand. Radioing others of your presence. That and the fact you give them a big thumbs up when they give you a wide berth.

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Road to Rockingham

May 8th, 2011

Road to Rockingham from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.

Ken describes the road south from Mackay to Rockingham. Very dull. The highway. Not the video clip. Hopefully…

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Feathered friend

May 8th, 2011

Feathered friend from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.

Feathered friend. Keen to share my sandwich. Absolutely no idea what it is. Either my lunch or the local fauna. Bird obviously. That much even I’d grasped.

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Keeping off the grass

May 8th, 2011

grasssign

Wonder if that deters the koalas? Cuddly little critters. Apart from the sharp claws. Sleep sixteen hours a day. Rest of the time stoned out of their especially tiny minds. Or fighting amongst themselves. Lifestyle choice for some.

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Darwin Awards

May 7th, 2011

Next morning. Dawn. Solitary kangaroo in the distance. No irksome council official. Just a man in a pick-up emptying the bins. There’d been a forced entry in the gents toilets. I must have looked shocked. Money boxes for the showers he quickly explained. Broken into. I smiled. Relieved. He suspected the group of young people staying at the site might be able to shed some light on the matter. Locals. Unemployed. One with previous form with the Police.

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I said I wasn’t so sure. They’d been very friendly towards me. Testosterone kept in check by the young women in the group. Camping out to enjoy a little freedom. Released a little from the strictures of village life. Hardly rebellious, willing to clash with authority. Quite the opposite. It was they who’d sought to avoid confrontation. Warning me of the council official. Whatever their past antics, they seemed to have moved on. Matured. One couple proudly expecting a baby.

And of the break-in? Last year it’d been a French backpacker. Daft enough to boast of his exploits in the visitors book. In French admittedly. Arrested later in Cairns. But still a candidate for the Darwin Awards.

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Show me where it says…

May 7th, 2011

Show me where it says from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.

Fellow campers had explained tents could only be pitched in the open. On the dirt of the car park. Not under the covered structure I’d elected to use. Risking a sizeable fine. The council warden visiting early in the morning. But I’d absolutely no intention of moving. Confident I wasn’t breaking any bye-law. Or even going against the spirit of such things.

Signs said no camping on the grass. Fairly prominent. I’d pitch on concrete. A smaller, faded laminated sign claimed to prohibit use of the recreation club building. But not the structure I’d chosen. Assuming the Chief Executive of the local council had actually signed an order to such effect. Which I doubted. And, in any case, if the intention was to prevent damage to the facilities, to hinder the enjoyment of others, I was doing neither.

Suppose that’s one of the downsides of very rule based societies. Hindered by their very rigidity. Encouraging the exploitation of loopholes rather than the adherence to the spirit of things. Common sense.

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