Maybe I've been reading too much Scarlet Pimpernel, but the wwoofers are revolting and planning to get the hell off the island at their first opportunity.
I understand that I get the best deal on the island. I don't do any heavy work, the classroom is semi-air-conditioned and I get paid. Wwoofers are officially “Willing Workers on Organic Farms”, or volunteers who work 6 hours a day in return for free room and board. The poor wwoofers couldn't believe their luck when they got the job on the island. When they arrived they were in awe and so happy. One of them DROVE all the way from Sydney to get here. Less than two weeks later, they have been scrubbing and cleaning in the heat and the mosquitoes until they are too exhausted at the end of the day to enjoy the island. The clouds of mosquitoes make sleeping almost impossible (poor things don't have a mosquito net like me). Now they want off. It takes a lot of work to keep a desert island clean. And they aren't getting paid and it's been the hottest summer in living memory. And that's not even mentioning all the damn cyclones.
Anyway, they are all planning to take the next boat back to the mainland. We have three new hapless victims (ummmm. . . . wwoofers) arriving next week. More German girls. Let's see how long they last.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
The Hermit was not "taken".
Population 11
The two German girls and I were planning to borrow the dune buggy and drive nearly three hours to the other end of the island to see the turtle nesting beach. The truth of the matter is that once you are away from the homestead, you are completely without communication to the outside world. There is no cell phone reception. If you get bogged or get bitten by a shark or snake, there will be no help coming. The owners of the island said “no worries, as long as you know how to change a tire and get out of a bog, you’ll be ‘right”. Frankly, my knowledge of getting out of a sand bog comes straight off Discovery Channel and episodes of “I Shouldn't be Alive“. I asked the German girls. They shrugged. We decided to go to Surf Point instead since it was only 25km away and we could still walk home if absolutely necessary. Besides, the tide was so high with the latest cyclone to pass our way that turtle beach would likely be covered with water.
Surf Point is just as lovely as the other beaches on the island. I dunked myself into the water and THREE TIMES had to run out because I saw a shark coming. One got within five feet of me, but it was only a little one. It’s quite nice to add some extra excitement to a dip in the ocean.
I overheard a story of a hermit on the island. There have been a few over the years. This one set himself up in a shack with a goat (a man needs some company). He went swimming and had his leg bitten off by a shark but managed to drag himself back to his shack and there he died. So when the locals insist that "noone has ever been 'taken' by a shark", I guess that doesn't include being 'bitten' if you manage to get back onto dry land before you keel over and bleed to death.
Friday night we had a pizza and wine party with the family. There are now 11 people on the island. It’s nice to have some company. Once the guests arrive, then it’s a party every night.
The two German girls and I were planning to borrow the dune buggy and drive nearly three hours to the other end of the island to see the turtle nesting beach. The truth of the matter is that once you are away from the homestead, you are completely without communication to the outside world. There is no cell phone reception. If you get bogged or get bitten by a shark or snake, there will be no help coming. The owners of the island said “no worries, as long as you know how to change a tire and get out of a bog, you’ll be ‘right”. Frankly, my knowledge of getting out of a sand bog comes straight off Discovery Channel and episodes of “I Shouldn't be Alive“. I asked the German girls. They shrugged. We decided to go to Surf Point instead since it was only 25km away and we could still walk home if absolutely necessary. Besides, the tide was so high with the latest cyclone to pass our way that turtle beach would likely be covered with water.
Surf Point is just as lovely as the other beaches on the island. I dunked myself into the water and THREE TIMES had to run out because I saw a shark coming. One got within five feet of me, but it was only a little one. It’s quite nice to add some extra excitement to a dip in the ocean.
I overheard a story of a hermit on the island. There have been a few over the years. This one set himself up in a shack with a goat (a man needs some company). He went swimming and had his leg bitten off by a shark but managed to drag himself back to his shack and there he died. So when the locals insist that "noone has ever been 'taken' by a shark", I guess that doesn't include being 'bitten' if you manage to get back onto dry land before you keel over and bleed to death.
Friday night we had a pizza and wine party with the family. There are now 11 people on the island. It’s nice to have some company. Once the guests arrive, then it’s a party every night.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
The Shining
Population 13
Last night we had an unexpected visitor. It wouldn't seem weird to have a lost traveler turn up in the middle of the night, except WE LIVE ON AN ISLAND!!!
The night was hot and steamy. There was a storm approaching and lightning hanging in the distance. I was the only one awake with the light on reading at 9:30pm when the stranger came along the homestead veranda yelling "hello, anyone there." There are three other blokes sleeping in the homestead at the moment, including the owner of the island and two burly laborers who are here to pull down a shed. They didn't stir. Finally the stranger went to the only light he could see and was banging on my door!!! I finally got myself up. This rough looking blighter said he was "camping at 'the block' and was getting eaten by mosquitoes." I thought it a likely story. He had probably knocked off all the blokes before he came knocking on my door. Maybe now there was just me and the two young German backpackers to run through the empty guesthouse, barricading doors and improvising weapons out of fish hooks.
I told him I was just the teacher and would take him to the owner's house around the back. The moon was almost full as I took him, clad only in my pajamas, through the evening gloom to the house. The light was still on. I pointed and said "Just knock and they'll sort you out." I slunk back into bed and huddled under my mosquito net with fear.
Somehow it seems we all survived the night without incident. I sure had some weird nightmares afterward. You have to be a pretty intrepid soul to come camping on this island. There are no facilities except for the Homestead which is the only inhabited structure on the huge island. The abundance of rain this season has brought the mosquitoes out in force. They come in clouds and bit through clothes. Add a hot and steamy night to the mix you can bet the poor chaps had to be pretty miserable to be desperate enough to trek through the night to get to the homestead. Now I feel sorry for them. I shouldn’t have presumed they were axe murderers. We gave them a lift off the island the next day. The island had kicked their intrepid asses.
Last night we had an unexpected visitor. It wouldn't seem weird to have a lost traveler turn up in the middle of the night, except WE LIVE ON AN ISLAND!!!
The night was hot and steamy. There was a storm approaching and lightning hanging in the distance. I was the only one awake with the light on reading at 9:30pm when the stranger came along the homestead veranda yelling "hello, anyone there." There are three other blokes sleeping in the homestead at the moment, including the owner of the island and two burly laborers who are here to pull down a shed. They didn't stir. Finally the stranger went to the only light he could see and was banging on my door!!! I finally got myself up. This rough looking blighter said he was "camping at 'the block' and was getting eaten by mosquitoes." I thought it a likely story. He had probably knocked off all the blokes before he came knocking on my door. Maybe now there was just me and the two young German backpackers to run through the empty guesthouse, barricading doors and improvising weapons out of fish hooks.
I told him I was just the teacher and would take him to the owner's house around the back. The moon was almost full as I took him, clad only in my pajamas, through the evening gloom to the house. The light was still on. I pointed and said "Just knock and they'll sort you out." I slunk back into bed and huddled under my mosquito net with fear.
Somehow it seems we all survived the night without incident. I sure had some weird nightmares afterward. You have to be a pretty intrepid soul to come camping on this island. There are no facilities except for the Homestead which is the only inhabited structure on the huge island. The abundance of rain this season has brought the mosquitoes out in force. They come in clouds and bit through clothes. Add a hot and steamy night to the mix you can bet the poor chaps had to be pretty miserable to be desperate enough to trek through the night to get to the homestead. Now I feel sorry for them. I shouldn’t have presumed they were axe murderers. We gave them a lift off the island the next day. The island had kicked their intrepid asses.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Blood and decapitation (and chocolate cake)
Population 10
Wednesday last week turned out to be a snake killing day. We had a dugart (one of the world’s top ten deadly snakes) in the homestead. It was in the children's playroom before they cornered it with a shovel. I somehow ended up with the job of mopping up the snake blood. Oh, the life of a governess, making the playroom safe so the children don't slip in poisonous snake blood. I tend to wander around the homestead in the dark with flip-flops on my feet. Maybe I should be more careful.
The same day I was sitting in my room, reading a book, when the mother started calling my name. She had spotted another snake outside, but near the house. She needed to keep an eye on it so it wouldn’t disappear. I went running down the beach to find the father, found him working on the barge and we came roaring back in the jeep with the shovel. All very dramatic. Turned out to be a diamond python and totally harmless but still we didn't want it around the house.
But that wasn’t the end of the decapitation. There must have been something in the air this week!! Will was riding his motorbike down the beach before school and didn’t see the rope that attached the barge to the post. He went straight into it and it caught him on the neck and flung him backwards off his bike. He hit his head hard on the sand (thankfully wearing a helmet) and the rope burned an enormous graze on his neck. But with the resilience of youth, he still made it to school and had forgotten the whole incident by the next day.
It was my 40th birthday yesterday. The father was taking the boys into town to run some errands and I joined them for a ride on the boat and a trip to the shop. There isn’t much to recommend the local town - except, the SHOP!!!! Not quite a supermarket. More of a corner store with groceries and everything is three times the normal price because it has to be shipped to the middle of nowhere. But a SHOP all the same. I went wandering and found a sign that pointed to “Town Centre”. I wandered in that direction for a couple of blocks and then found another sign saying “Town Centre” pointing the opposite direction. I must have blinked and missed it. Two cafes, a couple of small food stores, a tiny shop that crammed the bank agent, post office, surf shop and internet café under one tiny roof and a few lost tourists spread out along the beach waiting for the next boat out onto the Bay. But I hadn’t been off the island in three weeks, so it seemed like “the big smoke” to me.
The family made me a wonderful lamb roast dinner for my birthday. We managed to organize a couple of bottles of champagne and a traditional chocolate cake. The boys made me a card and blew up some balloons. A couple of German volunteers had arrived on the island this week as well as the Grandfather, so we had a proper little gathering on a very hot night with a thunder storm brewing outside the door. The flies and mosquitoes were out in force before the storm, otherwise we would have had the party outside overlooking the beach. Instead we all hunkered down in the family house so the mozzies wouldn’t make a meal out of us.
Wednesday last week turned out to be a snake killing day. We had a dugart (one of the world’s top ten deadly snakes) in the homestead. It was in the children's playroom before they cornered it with a shovel. I somehow ended up with the job of mopping up the snake blood. Oh, the life of a governess, making the playroom safe so the children don't slip in poisonous snake blood. I tend to wander around the homestead in the dark with flip-flops on my feet. Maybe I should be more careful.
The same day I was sitting in my room, reading a book, when the mother started calling my name. She had spotted another snake outside, but near the house. She needed to keep an eye on it so it wouldn’t disappear. I went running down the beach to find the father, found him working on the barge and we came roaring back in the jeep with the shovel. All very dramatic. Turned out to be a diamond python and totally harmless but still we didn't want it around the house.
But that wasn’t the end of the decapitation. There must have been something in the air this week!! Will was riding his motorbike down the beach before school and didn’t see the rope that attached the barge to the post. He went straight into it and it caught him on the neck and flung him backwards off his bike. He hit his head hard on the sand (thankfully wearing a helmet) and the rope burned an enormous graze on his neck. But with the resilience of youth, he still made it to school and had forgotten the whole incident by the next day.
It was my 40th birthday yesterday. The father was taking the boys into town to run some errands and I joined them for a ride on the boat and a trip to the shop. There isn’t much to recommend the local town - except, the SHOP!!!! Not quite a supermarket. More of a corner store with groceries and everything is three times the normal price because it has to be shipped to the middle of nowhere. But a SHOP all the same. I went wandering and found a sign that pointed to “Town Centre”. I wandered in that direction for a couple of blocks and then found another sign saying “Town Centre” pointing the opposite direction. I must have blinked and missed it. Two cafes, a couple of small food stores, a tiny shop that crammed the bank agent, post office, surf shop and internet café under one tiny roof and a few lost tourists spread out along the beach waiting for the next boat out onto the Bay. But I hadn’t been off the island in three weeks, so it seemed like “the big smoke” to me.
The family made me a wonderful lamb roast dinner for my birthday. We managed to organize a couple of bottles of champagne and a traditional chocolate cake. The boys made me a card and blew up some balloons. A couple of German volunteers had arrived on the island this week as well as the Grandfather, so we had a proper little gathering on a very hot night with a thunder storm brewing outside the door. The flies and mosquitoes were out in force before the storm, otherwise we would have had the party outside overlooking the beach. Instead we all hunkered down in the family house so the mozzies wouldn’t make a meal out of us.
Saturday, February 05, 2011
Cargo cult (aka internet shopping)
Population: 6
The cyclone and the belly flu both blew over and the seas (and stomachs) are calm again. The pontoon broke its mooring and lost the engine. We had to drag it out of the water with the tractor at the peak of the king tide while the winds were howling and the sea was churning.
The family got the boat into the water today and went for a supplies run to town. It was so exciting to watch the boat come in and unload boxes and boxes of fresh supplies Not having access to any shops does take a little getting used to. I haven’t even touched my purse since I got here. No money. No keys. No credit cards. Ahhhhhh, it’s nice to be off the grid.
I thought it might be a good idea to develop my own personal cargo cult. I didn’t think I would have to sit sadly on the beach with a scale model of a boat made out of bark and twigs and a pretend radio made out of tin cans. I thought internet shopping would make that unnecessary in the modern world. Alas, I found out the hard way that eBay and most on-line stores don’t deliver to PO boxes. Street address!!! You’ve got to be kidding me! There are no roads on the island and even the “road less traveled” is miles away from here. The mailman sure isn’t going to swim the 20 miles to the island to deliver mail. We just pick it up from the post office whenever someone is in town.
So I had better find some bark and twigs and maybe a couple of tin cans. Or ship things to my Mum’s place and have her forward them to the PO box. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Otherwise, I’ll just have to go cold turkey on consumerism.
School started in earnest on Wednesday. The school of the air provides very detailed lesson notes and activities lists as well as library books, puzzle boxes, craft supplies. More than we could ever get through. The boys are exceedingly polite and surprisingly follow all directions without arguing. Really very sweet boys.
After school on Friday we went for a drive to the vast sand flats about 10kms from the house. The landscape is spectacular. Huge sand dunes give way to rolling sandy scrub land and then a huge bay as white as snow with unnaturally blue water. They were telling me that a paleontologist had visited several years ago and found dinosaur eggs in the sand dunes. They were all black and charred because the local aborigines had used them as cooking pots.
I’m still in awe of this place. Everywhere I turn there is something amazing. I was . . . ummm . . . on the porcelain throne last week when I noticed the exposed stone walls around the bathroom are huge blocks of fossilized sea life. I could say I almost peed myself with the excitement of discovery . . but that might be taking cause and effect a bit far. No need for magazines next to the dunny in this place. You can just study the walls.
The cyclone and the belly flu both blew over and the seas (and stomachs) are calm again. The pontoon broke its mooring and lost the engine. We had to drag it out of the water with the tractor at the peak of the king tide while the winds were howling and the sea was churning.
The family got the boat into the water today and went for a supplies run to town. It was so exciting to watch the boat come in and unload boxes and boxes of fresh supplies Not having access to any shops does take a little getting used to. I haven’t even touched my purse since I got here. No money. No keys. No credit cards. Ahhhhhh, it’s nice to be off the grid.
I thought it might be a good idea to develop my own personal cargo cult. I didn’t think I would have to sit sadly on the beach with a scale model of a boat made out of bark and twigs and a pretend radio made out of tin cans. I thought internet shopping would make that unnecessary in the modern world. Alas, I found out the hard way that eBay and most on-line stores don’t deliver to PO boxes. Street address!!! You’ve got to be kidding me! There are no roads on the island and even the “road less traveled” is miles away from here. The mailman sure isn’t going to swim the 20 miles to the island to deliver mail. We just pick it up from the post office whenever someone is in town.
So I had better find some bark and twigs and maybe a couple of tin cans. Or ship things to my Mum’s place and have her forward them to the PO box. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Otherwise, I’ll just have to go cold turkey on consumerism.
School started in earnest on Wednesday. The school of the air provides very detailed lesson notes and activities lists as well as library books, puzzle boxes, craft supplies. More than we could ever get through. The boys are exceedingly polite and surprisingly follow all directions without arguing. Really very sweet boys.
After school on Friday we went for a drive to the vast sand flats about 10kms from the house. The landscape is spectacular. Huge sand dunes give way to rolling sandy scrub land and then a huge bay as white as snow with unnaturally blue water. They were telling me that a paleontologist had visited several years ago and found dinosaur eggs in the sand dunes. They were all black and charred because the local aborigines had used them as cooking pots.
I’m still in awe of this place. Everywhere I turn there is something amazing. I was . . . ummm . . . on the porcelain throne last week when I noticed the exposed stone walls around the bathroom are huge blocks of fossilized sea life. I could say I almost peed myself with the excitement of discovery . . but that might be taking cause and effect a bit far. No need for magazines next to the dunny in this place. You can just study the walls.
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