Mt. Gillen from the Top

Every morning, Mt. Gillen looks at our house and turns orange. It stays there all day, turning brown, taupe, maroon. Then, the sun sets behind it and it's black until the next day. While our niece Tara is here, it was a good chance for Tom, Thomas and Tara to climb it.
I got the car inspected. Our also-visiting friend Mimi rearranged my rock collection.

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A (female) Yank's View of "The Finke"

It's pronounced, "Fink." It is a race. For guys. First the dirt bikes and quads, then the buggies leave Alice Springs along the Finke Track which is dirt and sand and dust. It follows the Finke River - the oldest or one of the oldest rivers on earth. They race to the end of the track, c. 230 km, in about 3 1/2 hours. They camp and, I assume, drink like crazy and enjoy all the things that come with drinking like crazy.

The next morning, they race back.
The town goes nuts over this.

There were about 600 competitors started the race this year. About 80% usually finish. The rest get hurt, their vehicles break (no worries, the bike who came in second caught fire) or they just forget to come back.
Practically every local camps along the track somewhere so they can watch the racers and drink like crazy - an estimated 12,000 people. They bring "camping" equipment like I've never seen like couches and swing sets for the kids. Many of them camp for 3 freezing cold mid-June nights so they can be awoken and hear "NNyrroom!" hundreds of times.

The Finke is always held on the Queen's Birthday long weekend. Her Majesty's real birthday is in April but that's too close to ANZAC Day and Easter, so they move it to where there is a need.
At the start/finish line outside Alice there is a live video feed from a helicopter or two, lots of food, souvenirs, beer and the "Grid Girls" in really, um, friendly costumes.

The bikes and quads get back first, then the buggies/cars and all the boys need to see them.
Obviously, I don't get any of it, but I'm not the target audience, either.

Down in Tassie

We went to Tasmania. Oh, let me repeat that for the sheer coolness factor: We went to Tasmania.
It was green and wet and chilly. And mossy and ferny and lichen-y. It has pademelons which are like rabbit-wallabies, all over. It had sheep and possums.
Yes, it has Tasmanian devils. But they're dying. Rapidly. -from a contagious cancer called Facial Tumour Disease, which is as ugly as it sounds.
It may have Thylacines which are a striped, marsupial, dog-like creature which can open its mouth really wide and may or may not be extinct. I hear it has wombats, but believe they are a fictitious creature invented by the tourism and stuffed toys factions. We only saw lots of what we were told is their cube-shaped poop. Lots. How could a rather slow, pig-sized animal on an island it only takes 2 hours to traverse stay hidden? Ask the Thylacines.
Tasmania brought to life my pre-visit idea of New Zealand. I think anyone who thinks they want to see New Zealand really wants to see Tasmania.
We flew into Hobart near the bottom and visited the weekly Salamanca Market of about 400 artisans, veggies and stuff.
We drove up through the heartland to near Launceston then veered west. Our nearness to Antarctica caught me off-guard again as darkness started falling about 3:30 in the afternoon. My driving got pretty slow to navigate pademelons, possums and hairpin curves up to Cradle Mountain National Park. In our snug cabin, we enjoyed good, simple food, heated beds (less electricity than heated air) and a possum trying to let himself in.
The tap water was light brown which is startling at first but the resort binder assured us it was safe and slightly tannic from running through the rainforest. Some of the best water I've ever tasted!
About 8 km from the cabin is Dove Lake, a glacial lake about 150 metres deep. Along the road is the Tasmanian Devil Refuge, Thylacine museum and some really good egg sandwiches and coffee.
Thomas's most lasting memory is of having a leech on his pant leg. Should have told him it was a caterpillar.
Everyone said we'd freeze. We didn't. Everyone said we'd love it. We* did.

Another free slideshow by Smilebox *Ok, except the leech thing.

New Neighbors...they're Black

We have the most gorgeous new neighbors - Red-Tailed Black Cockatoos. A flock has been hanging out at the cemetery across the street for about a week or so. A few came to the gum tree hanging over our yard yesterday.
They are much more skittish than the ubiquitous pink and gray Gallahs. Gallahs watch you walk right up to them and then, they tell you off.
These RTB's flew off just because my camera made a tiny "bee-deep." They were a good 20 meters away at the time.
Thus, I have few photos and none of them good. Come on, black things just don't photograph well.
Their awesomely bright red under-tail patches show up for about a millisecond when they take flight and they are always flying AWAY which isn't the pretty red side.
These dears don't usually come to town. We first saw them at Ross River Resort our first Christmas when we still misunderstood the word, "resort."
Their noises are raucous and beepy. That's what first made me look- to see what the new bird sound was.
They're BIG - about the length from my elbow to the tip of my fingers. That's just a guess because, as I said, you can't get too close.
Remember, I did my best with the photos.