Every autumn, Dad and Mum picked berries while my brother and I, with our sieves, fished for yabbies and tadpoles. Once caught, we placed them in our glass jars to take home as pets. I liked to watch my tadpoles slowly turn into frogs, if they didn’t die or get eaten by our cats first.Read more "Exploring Adelaide Hills"
I caught up to the fellers who lingered at the base of these three adjoining cliffs near a small rock-hole. We marvelled at the chasm, and the steady stream of tourists like ants trailing along the edge of the cliffs above.Read more "Trekking With the T-Team: Kings Canyon"
‘You’ve got to watch that spinifex,’ Dad said. ‘If you get pricked by it, the needle stays inside your body for years.’
‘Years?’ I asked. ‘What does it do there?’
‘It works its way through your body and eventually it comes out through your hands or feet or somewhere.’
‘Ouch!’ Rick screamed.
We returned to the main strip of Salamanca Place. The historic warehouses glowed in the rays of a sun soon to set. People were everywhere, spilling out of doorways, and flooding the streets. Some art exhibition opening was in full swing, with champagne flowing. I didn’t like our chances.Read more "K-Team Adventures: Tasmania 2016"
Finally, the boom gate rose, and I ferried the K-Team Young’uns to a highly sought-after carpark. We piled out of the car, sorted out backpacks, and with the sun warming our backs, commenced the hike around Dove Lake. At first, I had to drag a reluctant Son 2 to join us on this adventure, but soon, wooed by the brilliant scenery, he raced ahead to catch up to his older brother.Read more "K-T-Y: A Perfect Cradle Mountain Day"
After parking, Mr K leapt from the car. ‘Oh, looks like rain.’ He ripped out the “raincoats” and waved them in the air. ‘Come on boys, you need to be waterproof.’
Son 1 recoiled. ‘I’m not wearing that.’
‘No!’ Son 2 screamed and hid behind me.
‘Oh, yes, you will!’ Mr K said. ‘You’ll get wet and a chill and then catch a death of cold, if you don’t.’
‘No!’ both boys squealed and then scampered up the path.
A battle ensued; Mr K with garbage bag-ponchos verses sons refusing to wear the garbage bags.
I knew this wind meant business, dangerous business. I rushed to Dad and told him the whole story—the wind, the sparks, the wild fire, and my little blue bowl.
‘What campfire?’ Dad smacked his lips, yawned and turned over.