My brother pumped the crank, winding it non-stop. Phut! No sound. Not even a click. He kicked the Rover’s tyre.Read more "Faith"
Amie skipped along with a sense of hope and amazement. Wow! An alien planet! What adventure! ‘Wait ’ntil I tell Adam, my brother.’
‘He won’t believe you.’
We journeyed, with frequent photo stops, through more mulga woodland, the Peterman Ranges making a charming mauve background to the valley of inky limbs holding up the blue-green canopy of leaves. The mountains behind the mulga groves tempted us, the soft breeze whispering through the gullies calling, “Come to us, explore us, see what we have to offer.”Read more "Disappointment at Docker River"
Joseph shook his head in disbelief. ‘Whatever—Okay, let’s climb this mountain.’ He wasn’t sure they’d get too far. They’d be lucky to get to Earth. First, they have to trace their route up to the mountain, Mt. Martin, then locate the cave, get the portal working, and then transport successfully back to Earth and not some other planet, and then to the same cave through which they came. Too many risks, too many variables and that’s without factoring in Boris. Who knows, Boris might be behind their transport to the lost world of the Wends. For the moment, he wasn’t even sure Amie would find the cave. He thought, I bet she’s a typical woman and can’t follow a Google map to save her life.Read more "Lost World of the Wends (16)"
Mr. K (my husband) and I parked ourselves on the lawns near the Hallett Cove foreshore. I sat on my towel and looked around at the families enjoying their picnics, and dogs chasing frisbees.
‘Well, where are they?’ I asked.
Amie pranced around the kitchen.
Amie and Joseph were by this time dried and dressed, in their jeans and t-shirts. In contrast to Amie’s and Joseph’s skin-hugging but cool twenty-first century look, this German family seemed swamped and sweating in layers of old world garb. Frau Biar insisted Amie wear a modest wool-knit tunic and blouse with puffy sleeves—colour scheme, monochrome grey and white.
For the next hour while Frau Biar baked biscuits and swept the kitchen floor, again, Amie perspired and itched in her woollen attire.
This morning, we raced along the road parallel to the MacDonnell Ranges, dipping into the gorges, Dad verbally ticking the boxes of gorges visited, speeding in and out of each one, snapping photos just to prove our having been there, done that.Read more "MacDonnell Gorges"