On the road with my dog

Here in Mundaring, still, life has been plodding along. Still doing odd days of relief but mostly hankering to buy my coffee caravan and get going with my own business.

Mostly it has been fine although, as always there have been down moments. This is mainly because I feel completely uninspired to do anything, which means I am utterly bored. More importantly however, I feel like I’m in a perpetual waiting room awaiting to be called in, or, reading and re-reading a ‘preface’ in a book eagerly awaiting to delve into the next chapter. It’s a process, it’s a process, blah, blah, blah (Greta stole that phrase from me btw). While I’ve been in this limbo-land what’s a girl to do but bake and eat. A few kgs later and I feel worse. Oh AND lets not forget those wonderful moaning whores (hormones) for an added dose of wtf is going on in my life but, as always, thank goodness for my Prince Charles. He can always be relied upon to keep it real. Oh and it hasn’t all been bad. Despite the fact that I am wondering where the hell my 30-year-old-flat-stomach-body has disappeared to (likely off the face of the earth forever more) and seem to be in a perpetual ‘not my beau jour’, it’s lovely to be around my friends (who diplomatically say I look well, aka ‘jeez you’re looking more rounded and aged) and my sister. We go for coffees, cold therapy, and long walks with my boy to places I haven’t been before (such as Bell’s Rapids – stunning). I also maintain a rigorous daily walking routine with Charles as otherwise I fear his testicles will explode. As for any developments on the love-life front, let’s all take a moment…Prince Charles – the boy with the bollox.

OMG I was absolutely mortified yesterday when I took Prince Charles for a quick walk, quick root more like! OMG my dog is a rapist. As I was pleasantly meandering up towards the golf course club house I spotted the delectable ‘Molly’. A beautiful chocolate labrador who is enjoying the senior years of her life in a state of calm, serenity, and peace. In her younger years poor Molly was pimped out by her horrible previous owners but was rescued by a lovely couple who do a wonderful job of protecting her from dogs like PRINCE CHARLES. No sooner had I spotted her that Charlie had taken off like a dog possessed. Nek minit…there was Prince Charles mounted on Molly having a good old shag. Poor girl. I was livid. Shouted my lungs out at him. I swiftly ran up to him and pulled him off and apologised profusely to Molly and her owner for the complete lack of chivalry on Prince Charles’ part. No flowers, no chocolates, no wooing – just straight into rooting. Naughty Charlie. That night whilst curled up in bed with Charlie next to me, I spoke to him about the virtues of wooing a girl, going slow, treating her like a lady. He looked at me blankly, liked my face, rolled on to his back, showed off his bollox and fell asleep – noice!

Hello everybody, might need to arm yourself with a cubbadee (cup of tea). Bit of a long entry. Onwards go the adventures with (Bonnie Prince) Charlie.

Just over a week ago Charlie and I drove Big Bessie 1500km from Karratha back to Perth. Whilst we would have loved to stay in Karratha it was time to move on and head back to work out our next chapter.

I’m not going to pretty things up and say everything has been golden sunrises, stunning sunsets, and days filled with joy and laughter since leaving Purnululu. It certainly has not. In my head I’ve been grappling with where ‘my place’ is and feeling kind of homeless. No family, no job, no place of my own. It’s been tough. I have moments when I really wonder what the point of it all is and of course in retrospect I have a lot to be thankful for. Objectively there is much to smile about but sometimes you’re just in a deep, dark, hole. Alone. In pain, in anguish, in confusion, in despair, in tears, lying in a foetal position on the shower floor hoping the water will wash away life’s dirt.

Last time I wrote, I wrote about my plans to move back to Europe but then whilst in Karratha, I took a punt and applied for a Steiner teaching job in Darwin. I had a positive interview, was offered the role, and was all set to go when the contract I had signed and sent off suddenly got retracted. It was all very inconsiderate, shocking and just plain poor human behaviour. In some warped, cosmic way it just wasn’t for me. I can write about this experience now in a few simple sentences but at the time of being rejected yet again, I was in an utter state of anger, disbelief, confusion, and hurt. I had told all my family and friends I was starting a new life in Darwin, had signed up to various real estate websites (that was such a mission. With a dog you are extremely limited and rentals are expensive), booked Big Bessie in for some TLC (aka a service) and mentally psyched myself for the 2600km drive north. I also had to start the process to re-register as a Northern Territory teacher so you can imagine my utter shock when the proverbial carpet had been pulled out from under me. Pretty demoralising, especially when in the lead up to leaving, the principal of the school told me how excited she was to have me join the team, helped me look for accommodation – it was all a bit bizarre. Between making the decision to head back to Perth and yet another job rejection I carried on doing relief ever mindful of encroaching on my dear friends’ space. Constantly in my head were the words, “what the hell am I going to do?”

As much as I love teaching children, I absolutely loathe the system and I am loathe to be a part of it. The WA curriculum absolutely insults every child’s intelligence. Shame on the ministers and the so called academics with their PHD’s who think up and indeed prescribe this rubbish. Teaching through PowerPoint, iPads, scripted spelling lessons, worksheets upon worksheets, stickers, stickers, stickers, stories being read to children by a person on bloody YouTube. All of it delivered on a massive black hole of a screen. (Oh but meanwhile telling the children and their parents to limit screen time. The insanity of it all. I heard on the radio yesterday that there are now counsellors who specifically help children with screen addiction. Floored me. Absolutely floored me). Children as young as 6 expected to write and dream up stories as if they are young novelists. Told to deconstruct their stories with setting, characters, the problem, the solution. It’s just soul destroying. Furthermore, when these poor sods comply, 9 times out of 10 their work is a re-telling of some Fortnite scenario. Full of extreme violence and of course nothing original or imaginative. What the hell people. Is this really the best we can offer our children? No wonder they are anxious, have ADHD, ADD, and autism (what’s with all the a-words by the way?). Oh and classrooms filled to the brim with stuff, stuff, stuff, complete sensory overload. It’s all so thoughtless. Mindless. Mechanical. Mental. Poor children.

Back in rainy Mundaring, even though I have a home of sorts it definitely no longer feels like my home. I’m now a visitor. Passing through. My stuff is all boxed up sitting here waiting, like me, to be picked up (actually I don’t want to be picked up – not in that way) and delivered to the next forever home. All I have is my best friend Charlie and Big Bessie. Thank god for my doggie and my set of wheels!

In the land of bed, staring out of my window what next? What next? I know I won’t teach anymore ( I just can’t be another cog in the machine) given there is no room for free, critical thinking individuality, but I do know I need to do something creative. Moping around and having thoughts of ending it just isn’t really ‘me’. I know I have more than that. I feel, like boredom, that when you hit such an incredible low, this is where the good stuff brews and bubbles away. The lily that grows from the mud. The re-invention. The digging deep to figure out what lies in your soul. It is a painful process and there are times when I feel I just don’t know myself anymore, but here it is. I’m off to sell coffees! WHAT? I hear you scream (or maybe not). Yep, coffees. Why not? I love coffee and to be honest selling them is something I’ve secretly dreamt about for a long time. To be my own boss, have Charlie accompany me, and travel around the various festivals and events with coffee caravan in tow, I really like the idea. I have my business name all set (watch this space) and my deadly jidjas (sistas) Bec and Karen have offered to help me in my quest to become Yvette the barista. Honestly, I feel excited. First time in a long, long time. I’m designing my logo, looking at colour schemes, buying a roof-top tent so I can camp as I travel. It’s putting a smile on my face. Nice. Besides coffee, I also have a few other ideas racing round my mind as side-line projects but I’m not going to say too much about those at this stage. Suffice to say they all involve my desire to create.

So there you have it my friends. Yvette the entrepreneur! Uh-huh! Who knew? Adventures with Charlie to be continued…

Who would have thought everyone. Karratha is so stunning! Within the first few days of arriving I immediately set out exploring the area with my dear, dear friends Rachel and Ryan, their doggies Mango and Layla, and Ryan’s parents. We went to a place called Hearson’s Cove which is a wee drive out of town. When we got there I said to myself; “wow, I want to see this place at sunrise.” So that’s what I did. The very next morning Prince Charles and I set off around 5:45am and boy was it worth it. I could have died. It was so beautiful. The tide had gone right out and I managed to walk to an island that is usually surrounded by water. It was a bit squelchy and I had images of being stuck in the mud with an incoming tide, but I found harder ground and soaked up the immense beauty that surrounded me on the dawn of a new day.

Charlie loved it and after we had walked and basked in sunrise glory, I decided I had to stop off at Red Dog country – Dampier. For those of you who haven’t heard of Red Dog, he is a Dampier icon. A book was written about his travels around the region and then a movie followed. I highly recommend the movie but make sure you have a massive box of tissues on hand.

Big shout out to my beautiful friends Rachel and Ryan who have allowed and indeed welcomed me with open arms into their home. I’ve managed to pick up a bit of relief teaching as I take steps to manifest a life back in Europe. Let me just say such a massive step is not an easy decision. It seems having given up my Dutch nationality previously (because the Dutch do not support dual citizenship) means getting it back is a bureaucratic nightmare. Funny, ’cause I thought with Dutch parents it would be my birth right. As a result, I could be here in Australia (somewhere) for a wee while longer as this all plays out. What’s more, it looks like I’ll have to relinquish my Australian and UK passport in order to re-acquire a Dutch one. I’m pretty sad about that seeing as I’ve lived half my life in the UK and half my life here in Australia. It’s almost as if the past 46 years have amounted to nothing and all that history is wiped out. I feel I’ve earned the right to be British, Dutch and Australian and love being all three, but I have to choose. With a recent divorce and a few of life’s curve balls thrown my way over the years, I’m a bit down about it all. Life has gone full circle. When I left Holland all those years ago to come to Australia, it was just me and my Dutch passport. Now when I go back, it will be just me and my Dutch passport – I think! Oh but wait – AND MY VERY OWN PRINCE CHARLES! That’s actually a whole heap!

It’s now exactly a week since I worked my last day at beautiful Purnululu School. Those of you who I’ve been in touch with will know why I couldn’t stay but suffice to say I can’t ‘sell’ something I don’t believe in. The sad part is that there was so much that was wholesome, and good, and authentic. I absolutely love the Gija people whom I met and worked alongside. I love Gija country. I love the children. I loved living remote, but ultimately I just couldn’t be a part of a system that to my mind, has failed/is failing so utterly to ‘close the gap’. It’s funny but when I first arrived in Purnululu I came across an article called ‘Kartiya are like Toyotas’ (Kartiya = white fellas) “…when they break down we get another one!” I remember reading it with complete arrogance saying to myself things like, “yeah these bloody blow-in white folk – think they can come in, change the world for 5 minutes with their big ideas and then bugger off – assholes…” and now….I’M TOTALLY THAT TOYOTA!!! If you’re interested have a read. It’s amusing but there’s also a sadness in the truth of it.

Kartiya are like Toyotas

Interestingly my own white Toyota, Big Bessie, was breaking down before I left. Talk about parallels. All that four-wheel driving that I love so much had shaken loose all her bits so no wonder my fridge was tripping out and my car wasn’t starting. I was also tripping out going slightly nuts with my mind doing somersaults wondering what the hell was going on. Thankfully my good friend Jim had a look and instantly saw that the battery connections were all loose. He tightened them all up and for a couple of days everything was fine but then today I ended up buying a new battery as the other one had run its course. Now I feel all set and ready for the 800km stretch to Karratha on Monday.

In the mean time Prince Charles and I have been hanging out in Broome at Will’s place and making the most of that glorious beach. At one point I thought we might stay for a bit but there’s simply not enough room at the proverbial inn. Accommodation is scarce and expensive so Charlie and I are moving to redder (mine-city) pastures. From Karratha I will map out the next chapter in my and Charlie’s adventures which looks like moving back to Europe. I’ve lived in Australia exactly half my life and I only came to realise this after I had made the decision. It wasn’t an easy decision and I still have a million ideas in my head as to alternatives but I keep coming back to moving back to Europe. It may be madness with all the Covid stuff going on but it’s all nuts anyway. Charlie will without question come with me because otherwise it simply wouldn’t be ‘adventures with Charlie’.

Today’s blog post is an adventure ‘sans’ Charlie. He is back in Frog Hollow pining for me (I think) as much as I am pining for him. And where, pray tell, be I? Why I am at Yiramalay School, which is a boarding High School around 80kms south of Fitzroy Crossing in the land of Tunnel Creek and Windjana Gorge. I am here with the entire school and their families, around 40 of us altogether. We set off en-convoy yesterday around 9:30am and arrived here just after 4pm. This included 2 stops; Halls Creek and Fitzroy Crossing.

Journey was pretty cruisy and my 3, then 4 passengers were all very well behaved. Thank the gods (same ones as previous blog), Big Bessie made it here in one piece.

The school itself is around 10 years old and it’s pretty well laid out. Dorms for students, massive kitchen, great big glamping tents which are used as rooms, lots of grass to play on – really nice and our hosts are wonderful.

Today a few staff members and some of the High School students led the way to Windjana Gorge – about 60kms away from the school. May I just say (and I know I own a 4WD and I’m currently living in the Kimberley so by default the following statement makes me a freak) but I really, well and truly, unequivocally, no shadow of a doubt DO NOT LIKE 4-WHEEL-POXY-DRIVING! At any moment I think Big Bessie is going to have all her bits fall off! Bumpy, waterways, then rocks, then windy, then bumpy again, dust, dust, dust and more dust – really not my idea of fun. Oh and to top it all then we had a random day of rain so on the way back it was slippy-slidy as well (black mud is the worst) oh and THEN a massive 4WD tourist bus splashes half the red Kimberley dirt on my beautiful Big Bessie…tuh, RUDE. No manners. The whole way there and especially coming back my heart is in my mouth and my stomach is as hard as a rock from tensing it. Not loving it. I’d much rather be on a sealed road with my beautiful Prince Charles beside me. Speaking of my beautiful boy, I made a solemn declaration to him before I left that I would never leave him overnight again. I just can’t cope.

Made it to Windjana Gorge and it was beautiful. Children had a play around, big feed was cooked up; sausages, steaks, all wrapped up in a slice of bread (I had to suffice with crackers as us vegetarians, well actually one vegetarian, is just too hard). Saw one fresh water crocodile in the distance and that was it. I was really looking forward to seeing whole lot of them but alas t’was not meant to be.

Phone reception here is non-existent and wifi drops in and out/pretty ordinary, but I am pleased to report I am alive and well and thankful I am not bumping around in Big Bessie anymore. Enjoy the photos.

ANSWER – 1!

Last weekend was my final trip into Kununurra. I’ve resigned from my current job (but that’s another story) and I needed to get some food supplies for my final three weeks here in Frog Hollow. I have no idea why but I was kind of in a hurry, I think because I wanted to get to the markets. In my unnecessary hurried state I managed to spill coffee on me before I left, didn’t pack any water as I thought it wasn’t needed (meh – eeee be rite) and didn’t pack Charlie’s collar or lead either – in and out of Kununurra so no need.

Nek minit driving along, lah, lah,lah – car suddenly goes weird. I instantly knew I had blown a tyre. 60 kms south of Kununurra. DAMN but YAY I’m now officially an outback bush babe! First things first – I called the RAC and lodged a ‘help I’m stuck’ message. Waited for around half an hour, watching cars with non-blown tyres drive by, then they got back to me. They would get someone out to me in around 2 hours. Yeah well with no water and Prince Charles in the car, stuff that. I then proceeded to call my ex, Guy, who was going to talk me through changing a tyre. First things first, undo the nuts. NUTS – I can’t loosen the NUTS! Even with extra leverage in the form of a pipe, I couldn’t undo the bastards. I even resorted to jumping on the pipe whilst holding onto the car but they didn’t budge. Right then, go go damsel in distress mode. With ‘this is so humiliating but I don’t care anymore’ vibe I managed to flag a car down. Out step 2 high-vis mans! I was hoping they would be easy on the eye as an added bonus but alas (checking them out was of course priority number one). Oh well, but can they help me? Well yes but they flagged down a couple of their colleagues as more tools were required. 4 men ended up changing my tyre while I took photos. Charlie made himself busy too and barked in the car (he’s not a fan of high-vis). In amongst all of that my car battery decided to trip out as well as the fridge – weird. Tyre changed, car jump started, and about 45 minutes later Big Bessie, Charlie and I were on our way again, all the while praying to Allah, Jesus, Krishna, Moses, Buddha (the whole tribe) that we would make it to Kununurra, and we did. Those mob up there must love me – I think because I provide them with some goof entertainment! (Goof was a typo but I’m leaving it!).

There you have it – one blonde female to change a tyre. Quite simple really, I can give lessons; how to wave a car down for help.

Big shout out to the high-vis heroes who helped me. Much appreciated.

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Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday Prince Charles/Bonnie Prince Charlie, Charlie…..HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! Wow, 2 years old today my darling Charlie – you’re a big boy now. I remember the day you came into my life – instant love of course – a darling, cutie cutie ball of soft, velvety, brown gorgeousness with the obligatory oh I love that smell puppy breath, cute rounded belly, and that puppy tuft of hair on the pee-pee! Now you’re a big boy and I love you more than anything in the world. As our days are spent getting our head around the need to (unnaturally) distance, where travel is limited and the way we live can at any moment can be turned upside down, can I just say THANK GOD FOR OUR DOGGIES. I simply could not imagine a world without them.

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ARCHIE’S DUNE

A short and sweet little post about the memories of climbing this dune with Archie, Fred & Horse – Guy and my previous doggies – I miss them. The dunes are now decked with really posh steps all the way to the top and a viewing deck which attracts many a boot-camper running up and down and up and down and up and down them. The view is quite stunning but unfortunately I don’t think my photos does it justice – nemmine.

Just came back from a three-night break to Djarindjin where I stayed with some beautiful friends. You’ll be pleased to know that the trip was very successful because Big Bessie no longer has to contend with green tape to hold her spotlight up – she’s been fixed! Unfortunately I cannot take the credit for this but I will extend a massive thank-you to Ryan. Prince Charles was not allowed to visit the places you see in the photos below however, he did get to do a few laps around Djarindjin airstrip where many a helicopter we did see. It reminded me of earlier childhood days with a FIFO dad. Where does the time go? The special peninsula country I fear is losing its authentic, raw, magic appeal instead making way for resorts and more tourist dollars. The entire road to Djarindjin from Broome is sealed and has been for a while and there are plans (already taking physical shape) to build a caravan park and seal the short 4WD road into Kooljaman. I believe Koojaman will be closed next year for renovations but I’m not sure what plans are in the pipeline. I wonder if the local aboriginal people are entirely happy with these developments and whether they have been beguiled by wads of money and various promises and who ultimately are going to be the winners of these developments. I see a rather un unsettling future where the local people will be paying to visit their own land…all a bit depressing really but for the short moments I was there, it was beautiful – long may it remain pristine.

Hello, hello, hello! Charlie and I made the trek into Broome and arrived yesterday. Made pretty good time, around 8 hours and that included a relatively long stopover in Fitzroy Crossing. Being Good Friday (bet Jesus didn’t think it was that good btw) the Fitzroy Roadhouse was the only place in the entire town that was open and cars were banked up waiting to fuel up. As we waited the thought did cross my mind; “shit, I hope they don’t run out of fuel,” but thankfully Big Bessie was able to have a lovey drink of diesel right to the top of her tank. During our stop I went in to pay for the fuel and wanted to buy Prince Charles the obligatory ‘on-the-road-sausage-roll’ but alas! NO SAUSAGE ROLLS! The shop had literally been cleaned out! I couldn’t even buy fruit so BBQ crisps it was then and for Charlie a steak pie. At least I managed to get hot water so I could make myself a coffee (have plunger, ground coffee, milk and a fridge…will travel).

A few weeks back I was fortunate enough to go to a Joonba dance – a traditional Gija dance which was performed to commemorate the 10-year anniversary of the massive flood that affected Warmun. The school children performed as well as members from the community and it was incredible to watch. The children were powerful, strong, confident and formidable in their culture and it was very different to see them in this light as opposed to in the classroom. I felt very privileged to be able to watch. When the evening came to a close it came time to round everyone up and drive from Warmun back to Frog Hollow…OH MY GOD…I shall never forget that drive. The rains had fallen not too many days before and the road was a carpet of cane toads – ewwww – so many of them. Never seen anything like it. The Buddhist in me wanted to dodge every single one of them even though I know they are such a menace to the environment, plus it would have taken me 2 hours to drive back as opposed to 25 minutes. The students in the back of the Troopy kept telling me, “misss-ah…..kill ’em…..they’re a pest….run ’em over…,” so with that I proceeded to just drive straight. It was the most disgusting thing ever. Squish, splat, squelch. It was totally hideous and I cringed in my driver’s seat all the way home. Not nice.

The following week I decided to check out Black Rock Falls (see photos from previous post) and when it came to the turnoff, 4WD had to be engaged. No problems. Driving along, driving along…lah, lah, lah, then we come to a slightly wet crossing and I’m worried. NO WAY am I going through THAT! Let’s just stop here. Charlie was fine with that. He had a bit of a swim, happy days. Something inside me though really wanted to check out Black Rock Falls. Just then another Prado drove past and went through the water. If they can do it, so can I! I quickly jumped in the car and went for it…..made it. A couple more flooded crosses came and went with my stomach in my mouth but finally got to Black Rock falls. With a return slippy, slidy, muddy, all over the shop detour to Ivanhoe crossing which turned out to come to an extremely overflowing watery dead end, we returned to the welcomed sealed roads into Kununurra. Lesson learnt? Not a big fan of 4WD when I’m not mechanically minded in the slightest. Too freaky for this lonesome little adventurer. Happy to stick to mostly open road with a few pull in, less than 5kms dirt road caravan stops! Oh and nearly forgot to mention the tape part of this blog – my spotlight fell off whilst 4WD-ing so got creative and put it back in place with some green tape – noice! Good job. Daddy would be proud.