One word - Broome

Broome is perhaps one of the most evocative of outback towns - which is a significant thing to say because "evocative" is somewhat overused in outback Australia. But there is no question - I love Broome. My love affair began as a child when my parents and I drove into the town after weeks in the hot sandy desert, and immediately felt that here was something different. My love for it has faded little, even though I have only been back twice.

On one occasion, the family and I joined a local town tour to get the local gossip on what goes on in the town. I was somewhat disappointed with the bloke who took us around, but he did portray one really important message to the people on the rattly old bus. If you want to understand Broome, he said, you need to know about three things. Pearls, cyclones, and tides. Indeed, the town was made by pearling. It had a significant natural industry and then has become the centre of a significant cultured pearl industry. Culturing pearls is not like making fake jewellery - it is an artform in itself and the distinction between a natural and cultured pearl is not easy to make. Pearls caused Broome to be founded, and still drives the town along to a significant extent. Cyclones have almost the opposite effect. Cyclones are more previlent and stronger on the west coast of Australia than the east, but the much lower population means they rarely get as much attention. Still, Broome is kind of sticking out into the sea on a little point that seems to get whacked more often than not. Broome's history is full of disasters based on cyclones. And you don't need to be in town for too long to realise that the tide is a critical issue. Having your sea rise 10 metres up and down twice a day is enough to significantly impact on all sorts of lifestyle issues. Most tourist operations - visiting various points on the coast, swimming and even getting around the local shopping centre, are impacted on by the state of the tide, so you need to know it. The range is spectacular, aided by the flat bottom of Roebuck Bay, which drains out for kilometres as the tide recedes, then races back faster than you can run across the flats.

But neither tides nor cyclones or even pearls were the original reason for me to feel drawn to the place. It can be summed up in another word - "colour".
It is fair to say that Broome is one of the most colourful towns in northern Australia, in all senses of the word. Even just taken literally, the colours of the water and rock and sand are such as to stun and amaze. I only have to close my eyes for a moment to remember it all there again...

So it is interesting that Broome features for me in a couple of ways this week.

Mum and Dad got on a plane yesterday and flew to Broome. Since that time we arrived there together 34 years ago, they have been back a lot more than I have. I have lost count, but it would be at least half a dozen times that they have returned. This time, they are flying in, joining a tour bus, and spending a few days in town before heading east to Derby and the rest of the Kimberleys. They are doing some of the things I have loved most while there. But it is a bit funny to think they can get on a plane and arrive there 6 hours later when it has sometimes represented 4-6 weeks of tough driving.

And secondly, I have been reading about the colour of Broome this week in another book on the Bradley Murdoch trial and conviction for the murder of Peter Falconio in Central Australia in 2001. It is a case I have followed closely over the years and I find myself still quite uneasy about the outcome. This book, written by journalist Paul Toohey, threw many amazing insights into the case, and gave remarkable details about the life of Bradley Murdoch prior to the event, when he was living and drug-running in Broome. In some respects, it was more colour than I wanted about one of my favourite towns, proving that anywhere can have a dark side.

If all goes to plan, I hope to be arriving in Broome again myself around this time next year. There's still a fair bit of water to pass under the bridge before then, but I am looking forward to it immensely.

On your bike!

My eldest son and I seem to lapse into playing a game of imagination every so often - if you were allowed to go to any five sporting events anywhere in the world, what would they be? Over time the answers have changed, but the Monaco Grand Prix is consistently there, an opening ceremony of the Olympics, and perhaps the Wimbledon final or a last day at Augusta National. Or our own grand final, which stacks up pretty well.

One event that typically is not on the list, despite increasingly being one of my most enjoyed sporting events, is the Tour de France. The reason it is not on the list is because of the complexity of seeing it on the ground - with the event often stretched out over 200 kilometres on any given day, and you just never know where the decisive moment on the day is going to be. The rich and famous that do go to the race are generally entertained by a helecopter pilot, who picks them up in Paris, flies them to the starting town for the day, and after watching the riders set out, it is a bunny hopping process of flying over the top of the race, landing and watching them go past as some significant point,and then flying on again. Some hours later, the participants are landed at the end town and watch the riders cross the line, before being wisked back to Paris to their hotels. It is significant that probably only 100 or so people in fact get to enjoy this priviledged look at the race each day. But typically more than 1,000,000 more people simply choose to select a spot by the roadside, perhaps watch the riders on their battery powered TV's as they approach, and then rush outside for a 5 to 10 minute brush with the elite as they rush by. The savvy ones choose a hillside location to watch, because the riders both slow down and spread out as they agonise up the mountains. In places like this - it is not merely a brush with the elite, but often a lot more than that! The spectators crowd along the road and press in from both sides, sometimes leaving little more than a passageway through which the riders must press. Many will reach out and touch their heroes as they pass - always yelling and encouraging them to new heights. It is testament to the attitude of the public to these riders that there has never been a deliberate attempt to hurt one of the participants in this pressure-cooker situation, despite the fact that it would be virtually impossible to fully police.

I am not sure why exactly my love affair with le Tour has become so complete. It is a fantastic event for television, but with four hours coverage each night starting at 10:00pm over a period of three weeks, it is not easy to become genuinely involved with watching it AND continue to live a normal functioning life! But, increasingly I have to find ways, because the race itself is totally addictive.

Tonight the race heads for the high mountains for the first time. Most tours do a "lap of France", and they all end in Paris. Other than that, the route changes every year. It will start and end in 20 different towns throughout France and even into the neighbouring countries over the three week period, and every night you learn a little more about the fascinating geography of this country. But every year, le Tour eventually spends a few days in the Alps, and a few days in the Pyranees. The two mountain ranges are distinctly different, but both are remarkably spectacular, and both feature a plethora of tiny mountain roads that wind up and over some mountain passes of dizzying heights.

Which brings in another aspect of the race that is hard to comprehend - anyone that has ridden a bike up a hill is left to wonder. For example - in 10 days time, the riders will undertake a ride of 210 km, during which time they will cross three of the highest mountain peaks in western Europe. The total climb for the day is 4,300 metres. That's more than twice the height of Australia's highest mountain. Almost as amazing as the climbs, and much more frightening, are the descents down the other side - where these riders will clock up to speeds of 80 or 90 km/h, again on tiny narrow winding mountain roads. On such a descent, the support cars simply cannot keep up - they have to let them go and hope to see them at the bottom. Occasionally there are spectacular crashes, but mostly they somehow make it and live to climb the next mountain...

2008's race has the added attraction of an Austalian who has done everything right so far. 8 days in, Cadel Evans is in second position, only 6 seconds behind the leader. That is 6 seconds in over 30 hours of racing to date. He is brilliant, both as a rider and a strategist. An Australian has never won this race, but Cadel finished second last year and looks every bit like he could find the opportunity to go one place better this year. Still - it all exists on a knife's edge, and a little error costs you a heap on some of these mountain passes.

I have forced myself to bed early a couple of times, but watched most stages through to the finish line so far this year. And this is likely to continue for the remaining two weeks. This year - as an added attraction, I can log into Google Earth and watch the road they are riding on as they ride on it! Add to this the on-line updates on gaps and positions of all riders on the official leTour site, and the computer adds a remarkabe additional aspect to the race!

Ah well, go Cadel, go Le Tour! And see you in a couple of weeks time when I get back into normal sleeping patterns!

Jatbula Trail

A work colleague of mine, native of England but out here in Australia now for around five years, announced the other day that she was about to head off to walk the Jatbula Trail. Wow! I salivated at the thought!

It is funny the way that our visitors from overseas occasionally get on board with doing walks such as these in the outback of Australia when so many locally born people don't even know where they are! This is a prime example - not too many people know anything about this cross-country walk which is one of the outback's finest! I did recognise the name, and had even read the details in a recent article in Australian Geographic, which I was able to pass on - but admittedly I have not set foot myself on the walking trail...

From its web site - the Jatbula Trail is a seasonal walk from Nitmiluk to Leliyn (Edith Falls). The trail (approx 60 km) is best enjoyed over 5 days (4 nights), however it can be completed in shorter time. The country you walk through is Jawoyn country and it changes from savannah grasslands to rocky escarpment outcrops and rainforest pockets. It is a challenging trail with beautiful swimming holes at every campsite, and amazing Jawoyn Rock Art which can be viewed at the Amphitheatre.

The Katherine Escarpment is less famous than the Kakadu Escarpment further to the north, but in effect it is a part of the same landform. Running approximately north south for a distance of over 300 kilometres, the escarpment is an almost continuous line of cliffs separating the higher plateau to the east from the lower plain of the west. The significant summer rainfall on the highlands forms a succession of significant rivers that either plunge over majestic waterfalls or cut deep gorges into the escarpment. Most of the Kakadu section is inaccessible apart from a couple of spots, but the Katherine section of the escarpment has a walking trail that opens the entire area up. You start underneath the escarpment for some 20 kilometres before climbing up it and then following the rim along for a further 20 kilometres or so, finally coming back down and following the Edith River back to civilisation.

To my disbelief, only around 200 people per annum walk this track, but then again - I've never been able to do it myself. I wished my friend all the best for the walk, and felt a good deal of envy at seeing her set out on her way. I hope she comes back with lots of photos and stories!