Spices and reconditioned rainbows

The frenetic pace of life out here is just so enervating! I'll need to find a nice quiet city for a rest. It all happens at once. See, it's the ferry coming in - and the new wood-burner arriving along the milk and post (which came by plane, but let's not let one detail spoil a good yarn) which had in it a little parcel which would have fitted into our post-box, but John-the-postmaster felt he had to give it to Barbara. He hasn't had the occassion to hand over many parcels address to 'The looney ex-South Africans'. It says a lot about Flinders that it got to us. It's the sort of treat that big-city people should try giving to their post-office. It contained yet more Australian bush herbs-and-spices. Saltbush, Lemon myrtle and dried river mint. The smell of the Lemon myrtle is so citrus as to make you think you'd opened a freeze-dried lemon grove and added water. I do want to plant some (if it'll grow here, if it's not an undesirable invader)... but maybe not TOO close to the house. Thank you for making the postmaster's day for him, Ian. I'm looking forward to trying them, preferably on unsuspecting victims. Ah, but it wasn't over yet because we also got the reconditioned Rainbow (oh yes, Australian rainbows are far too good a quality just to use once! A quick rinse in Bass strait and the colours are all fresh, ready to be used... actually it's a kind of vaccuum cleaner that sucks through water (like a sort of high-speed-spinning hubbly-bubbly) and not a bag or a filter. They're very good for house-dust which as you probably didn't want to know has large amounts of dead house dust mites in it. These are those lovely little sf-looking critters of which every human habitation is full, and are harmless enough, but my immune system thinks they should make me sneeze and cough. The particles are very small and mostly pass back out of ordinary vaccuum cleaners, but they get into the water and mostly stay there, one hopes.) The machines are way too expensive for us new, but we have bought a 'reconditioned' one. The Rainbow came in by plane just to ruin my theory, and B has been industriously vaccuuming. The side-effect of the high speed hubbly bubbly is a little humidifying - which you can scent if you so desire. This sort of thing is not really very typical of us, but the machine came with a little pack of essences. So B tried the spice (cinnamon) and the pine later. I hadn't the heart to tell her it smelled rather like a new-cleaned public convenice, but she told me so. So, having dealt with a week's excitement in one day, I will now return to the Bosphorus, until I cook supper.
Home made Pizza. With saltbush.
Might try a pinch of the lemon myrtle in the water next time.

Who (didn't) move the stone?

Those of you have followed the saga from the beginning know that we're moving ourselves, our kids, our fur-kids (feline and canine) and... our family rock - a 300kg piece of hand-cut African Sandstone from B's great grandfather's farmhouse in the mountains - a piece of an old frontier farm that saw the family through marriages, births (mostly in that order), tears, joy, laugher and grieving across long generations. The farm was expropriated (by the old apartheid govt -not the new lot - as a conservation area) and the house that would have been 140 years old now demolished. There is a wattle forest and bramble thicket there now. We eventually got permission to go up and collect one the rocks from all that was left - the foundation. With much grunting and panting five of us managed to get the largest - the lintel stone from the crawlway to the underfloor from under the window of the main bedroom - onto a wheel-barrow - which bent, but with us hauling on climbing slings helped us to get it and onto the 4X4. We took it back to Finnegan's wake, planning to build it into a new family home in the mountains, a part of where we came from and what we are.

Only then we decided that we were planning to immigrate to Australia. To a remote, beautiful wild lonely island - mountains still, but mountains in the sea.

We decided that the rock was going with us - to the puzzlement of the various movers who came to quote. "and the rock." You know how elderly bloodhounds whole face seems to have the droop? Well if you want to see that very expression on the high-heels-and-make-up face of city-girl moving quoter - just tell her she's moving a 300 kg block of stone. It's apparent after all of the movers who came to quote got their volumes wildly wrong (we got rid of a lot of stuff -most of which could be useful to bring our volume down. And we could have coped with every bit of it, without a hi-rise. And a lot of the stuff we were told not to take, I talked to the AQIS officer about. It's a hassle for movers, not AQUIS or you.) Anyway, 'tis done, and I may forgive them my tools one day. The rock however was loaded, (I photographed it myself) and began it's long journey back in November, nearly getting as far as Reggie's dam... but somehow making it through customs, through AQIS, (it had been bleach-scrubbed and painted with tile-sealer.) and to Melbourne.

So If you need to know who didn't move the rock, the answer is Grace Removals. Melbourne didn't send all the paperwork to Grace in Launceston, So they did not know that item 223 was a block of sandstone. So when they repacked the 40 foot into two 20 foot containers they somehow decided a crated block of sandstone in a container that held no one else's goods... was not not for the same destination. No, they didn't check or get the full manifest. They just parked the rock. Not exactly inspired but there you go. If you want inspired you'd better come to Flinders Island, 'cos we do things better here. At least Mike Bowman does. Like many of the other tall stories we were told, the movers do not send 4 people to the island to offload and unpack, nor do they send trucks. They just contact the local haulier and say 'can you just do a little job for us?' Which actually works better for me, because I'd rather have a local (who has to live on the same island with me) and who has moved furniture professionally before, even if cows and gravel are more typical. Firstly they didn't break anything (and let us be involved so we could see, and advise) (The dining room table and one of the legs off the stove were bust before coming out of the container.) Secondly, Mike actually got the manifest. And thirdly, they had a sense of humour, and some of that rare stuff common-sense. Grin - He said "I didn't want to be in that 20 foot steel container with you when you heard the rock wasn't there." I tried not to explode.... really. Wasn't his fault. And more importantly it was his fix. He got hold of Grace, and arranged for the rock to come next week. So maybe we will have our ferry-tale ending after all. The movers were moaning apparently that as they have had to ship with another occasional ferry - which does opportunistic cargo - they had to pay more, should think of the savings in surgical costs (because I'm an easy-going peaceful man, but I was incandescently angry right then) Mike has given them.

So... moving in. "carefully... OK that's it. If you could just move it off my foot, that'll be perfect." Boxes and a sort of tetris...

In the middle of all of this Inge - who has to be our favorite islander so far (She arrived here many years ago as a German speaking new Australian with her soldier-settler husband. She I think understands better than most what it is to be a stranger in a strange country.) came and brought us some supper - cooking or even going out last night would have been a move too far.

Ferry again...

Just when you think that things are starting to level off... the ferry company went into receivership yesterday. Heh. And our container is still in Launceston.
Oh well. My lettuces and beetroot are up as is my zucchini and cucumber -I know -very late, but hopefully I'll get material for gerkins if not full-grown cucumbers. Life goes on. Inge brought us scones with jam and thick cream and a dozen beautifully fresh eggs from her son's chooks. People greet you in town 'howyergoin, awright? D'yer need anythink?'
John brought me a spade today - we've ordered one from Tassie. Probably on the ferry.

Islanders and our new home

Those of you who are Tolkein fans will understand immediately what I mean when I say our new landlord resembles an Australian farmer Giles of Ham. He has a round cheerful face that's seen a lot of sun and wind, and wore a checked shirt -- he was waiting for us on the quayside when we got in... which was rather nice but might have been nerves on his part. Grin. His mum - who is a honey -- also couldn't retrain her curiousity and came to visit... see we come from Africa... are we... dark? heh. Well, just a little I suppose (All Afrikaaners are, somewhere down the line). But hats off to John he never let that weigh with him. We went to the house, and we too were relieved. It was clean and a little bigger than we'd believed - our furniture is old and large and our old house was too.


So we went to the local coffee shop, had coffee signed papers... and did not finish up because Service Tas is not open every day. Here on Flinders it's worth waiting for because the lady who runs it is something special, well so far everyone we've dealt with has been. As soon as they find out you're staying, well, you have be introduced. I'm awash with names. Chuckle - they were very impressed that first thing we did was to sign up with the library. I don't think they have realised my profession yet. I'll keep it that way as long as possible - don't want anyone thinking I think I am a tall poppy or something. Anyway, it's one of those places where buying a loaf of bread might take an hour and a half as everyone talks. One of the matriarchs decided I was Dr Bob (whoever that is)and greeted me enthusiastically. I know she has 4 kids now, and quite a bit about them.

Anyway, the NEXT exciting episode of the ferry saga - the ferry dropped us, sailed back with a load of logs and ran aground... at which point it emerged that it hadn't passed its survey and wasn't supposed to be running anyway. It's now NOT running and our furniture is in Tasmania waiting to get here. But we have a home and sufficient crockery cutlery and bedding for now. We'll manage.

A long long way from there to here

It's a long, long way from there to here...
We FINALLY have an internet connection and I have half caught up on the several thousand e-mails... and we're here on Flinders. Where the bloody hell are you? ;-) I hope to post pictures later today, and the backtrack of days we couldn't post.
The final leg was... interesting. Like most adventures quite a lot of it is best from a distance ;-). When FINALLY BigPond told us that the very expensive device that Telstra's Eastlands mall branch had sold us and refused to help with didn't work, wouldn't ever work, and should be returned (“to any Telstra store”) andthey would send us to Flinders a replacement with working software (did I believe them? no. I was wrong though) we were on the lower Tamar, at Beauty point, with our new-shredded tent, with it's exploded poles and the black swans drifting peacefully past in the now still water. We still had one tent so we had a crowded night (with offers of tents and a bunk in a camper from our various neighbours – this was self inflicted injury... again) and drove to Launceston not Bridport... were the Telstra shop said no, sorry, they weren't taking it back because Eastlands was a franchise. Another half hour on the phone got them to agree to send us a post-paid box and to credit us with the cost. As yet this has not happened. Anyway – we did some of the shopping (some- ie, we forgot stuff) and headed out to Bridport via the Lilydale road – the shortest according to the GPS. It is. It's beautiful... it's also windy steep places and full of roadworks right now. I spent most of the trip in fear that the blue slug would die – awkward as the ferry goes once a week! Anyway my worries were rewarded with a tyre going flat and seeing if it could shred more than the tent. The jack – a little bottle jack – couldn't lift the vehicle high enough. B flagged the first car down, as this was a part of Tas sans large rocks or stumps (put the vehicle on one, and then put the jack in the right spot.) And HIS jack was inaccessable, under a huge load, but he was a big guy and we lifted the blue slug up and onto the jack on the lowest point and changed the tyre no trouble. Of course... it wasn't the right tyre. The rest are 215s... this is 185. Still it got us to Bridport's only 'Servo'
where they didn't have any 215s. Could order for us – but not before the ferry loaded in 3 hours time. So they sold us a used 195... ah well. It got us to the Ferry... which was lying on the mud. When they say Bridport is tidal port... they really aren't kidding. The ferry office said the credit card hadn't gone through and so we paid cash – got a discount too, and a special offer $200 and vehicle and 2 passengers return – as opposed to $500 one way. Still $200 one way, but even with the kids $58 each – (and less $16 discount) – cheaper. We drove on and they closed off the back with a 20 ft container... and then the sea door. The ship was um... agriculturally scented – but we had the passenger lounge to ourselves - We went up on deck onto the bow as the Condor nosed out slowly down the channel, and past the bunch of jeering brats racing her on their bycicles (and my brats yelling 'faster' at them as they approached the end of the berm) and out into the open sea. Soon it was just B and I looking at the wine-dark sea and feeling the wind that had blown over thousands of km of emptiness. Cold.
Soon B and I went down into the rocking belly... and B was sick.
I awoke with the absence of movement and Paddy waking me – we went up on deck in the dawn and saw how the drowned mountains loomed out of the still, clear green-blue sea.
We were in the Sounds... coming in to Lady Barron, Flinders Island.
And that's long enough for now.

way oh a-weigh

Today was B's birthday, which we celebrated in exemplary fashion... if by that you mean swimming, 500 metres again, and tent scrubbing and packing and weighing all our stuff (and us)and um... going to buy another McGyver crate, cause we don't fit.
But in another sense it was a real milestone day with us finally getting our Ferry booking to the island. We used Skype Out and the sound quality was great -like chatting to someone across the room - which is a little bizarre when this person has a strong Australian accent. We... made her day I think. Barbs starts with "I'm calling from South Africa... which was probably not your everyday sheep-and-cattle move call. "We're a freight company, we don't take passengers."
"Yes, we know, we want to take a, um, whatchallit, ute to the island."
"Oh. well it'll be 800 and something return." Barbs: "We don't want return tickets."
Kindly woman speaks slowly (you know, as if to South Africans)"You do need a return..."
Barbs: "We're moving to the island. We're going to live there."
(moment of stunned silence, followed by a snort of laughter hastily contained. "That'll be quite a change for you."
Heh. It will be. By the time we had explained that we couldn't give her a length for the Ute because we hadn't bought it yet, and that while we could give her our phone number, calling it would cost her rather a lot, she was sounding as if she was going to say 'curiouser and curiouser' in an Alice tone. She was laughing as she put down the 'phone ;-). Australia it seems, plainly lacks sufficient loony South Africans, a task I will manfully undertake or you for 4 years (after that you will have make do with loony ex-South African new Australians.)
We'll be sailing from Lonnie not Bridport on the 13th.

Ferry - interesting times...

http://www.examiner.com.au/news/local/news/economy-business-it-finance/shipper-must-set-sail-to-avoid-breach/1668464.aspx

The Ferry saga... continuetheth too

I see the Southern Condor - due to sail at 3 AM with cargo and passengers for Flinders... has been suspended from servce until the oil leaks are rectified. And the Matthew Flinders (the other vessel) - Bass Greens MHA Kim Booth, released a MAST report and maintenance document, which stated that it was a dangerous, lice-infested vessel.

Hmm. Interesting vessels we will be relying on!

sitting at the hospital while the physio works with mum -- I have been reading the ferry saga. You know, fiction is more plausible than fact from time to time. The company seems to be, to put it mildly, erratic in reliability. Grin - it's definitely a chapter of disasters that must be bloody unfunny from the inside. We start with not having paid docking fees and not being allowed to dock at Lady Barron - with 200 000 dollars owing. So eventually the company pays up and the ship is allowed in... (with the food on board looking a wee bit dodge by this stage, I'd think.
And the crew and skipper go on strike.
So it's not unloaded. And not coming back until the crew and skipper get paid (which is apparently a little... late)
The MD makes outraged protest that they've been paid -- (if I get this right, by cheque, in the post.) The skipper has stolen his ship! He must be arrested and removed.
So the cops remove the skipper.
Dumb move number 4.
Because the skipper is not signed off, and therefore is still in command of the vessel. Therefore by law the vessel may not sail without his orders...
And there is only one deep water mooring on Flinders. Is this sounding like the wars of roses yet?
So they have to get special permission from the marine authorities to move the vessel...
Another vessel, hired for the rescue effort docks. And the two vessels now are able to go back to Bridport with new crews. And of course the islanders, the Tas transport minister and the company which claims it is not breach are now locked in a bitter feud...
And in the meanwhile on a more personal note... we have not been able to with these paragons of reliability book a vehicle we don't yet have, across. See, they want the make, numberplate and length...

Ferry strike?

My mother is a great deal worse, so posts may be erratic for a bit. Still, it serves to take my mind off something I can do nothing about.

I've just been told -and thus followed up the reports that the Southern Shipping Ferry to Flinders was refused docking because of unpaid port fees, and now her crew are on strike, trapping the vessel on Flinders, due to unpaid wages.

That makes getting there interesting, and things very difficult for the islanders.

Going to pot

Francis just brought home to me that I normally cook in great big cast iron pots. I've spent 20 years feeding flocks of locusts... well my kids, who also devour everything green (and red, and all the other shades of edible), and that I am likely - at best to be kitchen-stuff-less for 3 months or more.

So I have designed this new, elegant hand-luggage travelware for the migrant and other fashionable labelistas. The ultra-lightweight Falkirk luggable comes in at (as you can see if you have better eyes that I have) a delicate 12kg on the old shark scale, with a comforting five litre capacity, in which you can put all the other essentials of international travel, like clean socks :-).

On another amusing note: one of the movers called to inform me in tones of dulcet horror that the ferry to Flinders only sails once a week, and, um that has to time its voyages for the high tides. Chuckle. I didn't have the heart to tell her the truckie would probably have to spend 8 hours talking to the fellow passengers... sheep :-).