| 9/2002 |
My big break to travel to Australia came by taking advantage of a special fare for those frightened to travel on September 11th for $500 from Los Angeles on New Zealand Air. If there is any doubt as to whether I felt confident flying on that date, let me just say that I began a 26 hour voyage (door to door) that morning. In fact, I left on September 11th, skipped the 12th by flying over the International Dateline, and landed on Friday the 13th after a 14 hour plane ride (my longest yet). This is the last of the seven continents for me. I've been on all of them now, having touched down in Antarctica in 2000. This article is intended as a "mudmap", a quick sketch of my adventures. Australia is far, far larger than most Americans think, and two weeks gave me only the merest of introductions to this exceptionally diverse nation. The vast interior of the country, known as "the outback", is a mammoth expanse of desert, so the relatively modest population of contemporary Australians live primarily on the greener coastline. I began my adventures in Sydney, and spread out from there to the bushland nearby and the caves near the Blue Mountains. I also traveled to Melbourne and areas to the south of it. My Gracious HostsI stayed with my dear friend Ann and her paramour, Dominic. Dom's daughter of 14, accompanied many of our adventures. They are presently residing with Michael and Theresa Baird in their lovely home in the Sydney suburb of Lugarno. James, another roomie, pops in from time to time, and Lucky the dog completes the happy family. It's quite an interesting mix, perhaps reflecting the cultural diversity of Sydney itself– Teresa's from Hong Kong, Michael from New Zealand, Dom from Sydney and Ann from Boston. Everyone is always busy, rushing off to various things, but the main time for getting together seems to be in the morning when all present exercise with "p-cals" (psycho-calisthenics, http://www.pcals.com) and have a healthy breakfast of fruit, nuts, oatmeal and yogurt. Ann and Dom have made it their life mission to seek optimization in all things. They have the exact right luggage for all the right reasons, filled with perfect little sorting packs and the right toothbrushes, also the right nutcracker to crack the Macadamia nuts at exactly the right time. They even wear the right long underwear (from New Zealand Merino wool, expensive but worth it, I'm told). Add to this their ardent desire to be barefoot at all times. They derive a spiritual communion with the Mother Earth in this way. I recall moments when we were completely covered in cold weather gear, rock climbing amidst a howling gale, and still they insisted on going barefoot. Loved it too. Sense of PlaceI tried to be very attentive to signs of the Australian soul evident in the society. I paid particular attention to anything that would give me a peek into its own unique identity. What I found was a multiplicity of layers. On the one hand, Australia is home to the world's oldest human culture and religion. The Australian aboriginal peoples today number about 350 tribes with widely varying languages. They have been mentioned as a separate group by anthropologists, who list Caucasoids, Negroids, Mongoloids, and Australoids as the major human classifications. They are thought to have entered Australia from Malaysia perhaps as far back as 70,000 years ago and have had a culture and consistent spiritual tradition that has lasted that long as well. Indigenous peoples worldwide have been greatly abused to the point of genocide by our colonial ancestors, but perhaps none more so than the aborigines. Rightfully, the continent is their homeland and one cannot mention "Australian Soul" without first laying the foundation with the native Australians, which are unfortunately relegated to the bottom rung of the society. Layered on top of that is the modern mélange of cultures and influences. I found Sydney to be somewhat American in feeling, which surprised me. Being a country that still has the Queen of England on its currency, and considering its sheer geographical remoteness from the U.S., I rather expected it to reflect more of a European sensibility. Not so. Add to this the strong presence of a variety of Asian influences. The mix of these and many other ethnicities makes it a true 21st century city.
SydneySydney is a great city. Vibrant, lively, vital, bustling. The feeling is one of an American harbor city, such as Boston or Baltimore. Notable are the iconic landmarks of the Sydney Opera House and the Sydney Harbour Bridge (which was loaded up with the world's most lavish fireworks display to date for the Millennial New Year, http://www.gids.nl/sydney/info.html). There is a plethora of fine restaurants, parks, shops, and attractions on the waterfront and in the various districts, which have names like Woolloomooloo. CenterPointe Tower is a great place to get a fantastic view of the city, day or night, and their multimedia presentation is entertaining and gives a nice introduction to the country. Plenty of places to buy yourself a boomerang are nearby and even a few spacious enough to throw one– try the Domain or Hyde Park. Darling Harbour gave us IMAX movies (Shackleton and Circue du Soliel), ferry rides, submarine and battleship tours, and The Temple of Love, a Thai restaurant with a gigantic Buddha. An exhibition of Salvadore Dali in the Customs House featured a selection of bizarre penis prints and etchings. Closer into town, more adventures presented themselves. Guess where Sydney's red-light-district girls like to hang out? Near the ATM machines, of course! Other appetites beckoned, and we found ourselves in Chinatown, looking a snaggle-toothed parrotfish straight in the eye. He was thrashing around in the hands of our Chinese waiter who was about to send him off to sing in the choir invisible with a side of soy sauce. This was the first time in my life I had had the opportunity to "meet what you eat", at least in a way that didn't involve a bit of flirtation first. Ah, that fresh, sweet white meat– very tasty! A gale kicked in, driving the throng of tourists off their outdoor dining tables as we ducked inside the shops. I plucked a tune on an instrument called the Gu Cheng and then we feasted upon moon cakes from the Chinese bakery made from green tea and sweet rice paste. The Sydney Opera HouseOf course I went to Sydney's signature icon, The Opera House (http://www.soh.nsw.gov.au). How did I like it, you ask? It was tres cool. One of the things that is so intriguing about it is that it appears to change form depending on your vantage point. It's quite dramatic really, almost as if its morphed into a different architectural structure entirely. Very innovative and compelling. We saw a play in the Opera House Drama Theatre– "Life is a Dream", written in 1643 by Pedro Calderon De La Barca. Described as "One of the great poetic plays of the Spanish theatre, an exultant journey through a fairy-tale landscape of destiny, desire and illusion," it was reinterpreted in one of those awful post-modern renditions that featured a wide array of goofy and distracting elements. Here's a few: The king showed up in a gray business suit for one scene, but the next had him in his underwear, wrapped in a pink blanket with a big faux tattoo of a tree on his chest. The princes' regal attire was a nylon jogging suit with fat racing stripes. The princess appeared in full dominatrix couture. Background figures walked around in gas masks while others were dressed as nuns. At times everyone on stage was lying facedown on the floor or standing in formation while making repetitive movements like an 80's music video. A tragic clown character was hoisted center stage and hung upside-down for her soliloquy. But the best and most laughable element of all was the scene with two machines that shot out a rapid series of tennis balls. They fired out green fuzzy tennis balls at the walls, which then bounced wildly around the stage. The actors stood amongst them delivering their lines full of rage, angst and noble disenfranchisement. (Let's just say there was a lot of yelling). Later, part of the choreography included actors roaming about with large sacks picking up the tennis balls with giant tongs amidst the primal scream therapy. Yep, just a few sandwiches short of a picnic. Driving in OzReady for a crazed, white-knuckle ride that will leave you shaken and gasping for breath? I'm not talking about a roller coaster; I'm talking about an everyday trip down to the corner grocery store. Aussies drive on the opposite side of the road than Americans. Clearly, this is a crime against everything good and holy! No matter how much time I spent in cars, right up to the end of my trip I would find myself wanting to scream, "Look out! Head-on collision! It's certain death for us all, AAAHHHH!" Fortunately, I restrained myself from leaping into the driver's seat (also on the wrong side!) and screeching into the opposite lane in a maniacal rescue attempt. Better to just keep my head low, between my knees, and leave the driving to Australians. That way, I'm right where I can kiss my own ass goodbye if it comes to that. Driving in the outback can be even more interesting. I was told of an area where motorcycle riders must pass through a section of bushland where the resident emus will race after them, pecking fiercely at their helmets. The local cops patrol the zone closely, knowing very well that the speed limit is set at a point where the emus are faster than the motorcycles. AussietalkAustralians have considerably more fun with the English language than do we Americans. Surprising for a former British penal colony, but this approach to language seems to underscore another subtle Aussie trait: they don't take themselves too seriously. Humor is applicable to everything. Family members are known as "rellies", sunglasses become "sunnies", a bathing suit is a "boardie" (especially if you're going to be on a surfboard). Candy bars are called "lollies", college is referred to as "uni", and even crocodiles are known as either "freshies" or "salties". On television you might see programs for "footies", kind of a cute name by which rugby fans are known. (Also on the telly is Methane Man. Yep, you got it, he specializes in igniting flatulence!) A baby kangaroo is a "joey", his father, is a "stinker". A car trunk and hood is called the "boot" and the "bonnet". What's a "wanker"? Well, sometimes you just have to take matters into your own hands, now don't you. Yum ChaWe found this happening Chinese eatery in the lively Sydney suburb of Hurstville. Teeming crowds clattered boisterously behind a wall entirely composed of aquariums holding enormous crabs. (The Australian giant crab is the second largest in the world.) The place was obviously a local hotspot because it was packed. Surrounded by loud, raucous, exuberant Chinese people, we were the only white faces in the whole joint. Serving women came by, one after another after another in rapid succession, rushing frantically while waving aloft steaming bamboo containers hot from the kitchen. Constantly clucking in Chinese, they laid before us a cornucopia of culinary delights and oddities at such a rapid and furious pace as to make your head spin. The atmosphere was like being on the maddeningly frenetic floor of the New York Stock Exchange– only here the stocks were limited to the soup entrées. An overwhelming array of delectations flowed by in parade. Fresh calamari, steamed vegetables, prawns, and rice dough balls rolled in sesame seeds with a center of sweet bean paste. Restaurant patrons would call out to choose a dish (in Chinese; we had to just point); the busy server would then whip out a rubber stamp and pound a mark into their lunch card. I was told that this experience of lunch insanity is called "yum cha" and is very common in China. Dessert proved to be equally as interesting and unusual. Gelatinous cubes of sweet coconut, interspersed with cold red beans. Different. Tasty though. Altogether a great time. MuseumsWe had a great time in Sydney's many museums. The Australian Museum (http://www.austmus.gov.au), had thousands of displays of natural history, paleontology, mineralogy, and other earth and life sciences. It included a beautiful display of the gem that Australia is most famous for, the fiery, incandescent opal. It also boasted a terrific Australian Aboriginal section that definitely stoked our curiosity while feeding it at the same time. We then meandered through a showcase of Chinese feathered dinosaurs (the ancient precursors of birds) towards a selection of leviathan marsupials– "megafauna" of the Austral Ice Age. These included colossal carnivorous kangaroos and killer koalas the size of rhinoceroses. Another highlight of this voluminous museum was an interactive section that looked a lot like a nineteenth century explorers' laboratory. You know, the sort of thing you might see in some movie featuring a guy with a monocle, a tweed vest, and huge side burns opening crafted wooden cases revealing vast collections of carefully labeled stag beetles. Or the delicate skeletons of bats. Or the dried eggs of tiny, flightless birds. Or jars of pufferfish placentas. Slightly macabre, bizarro stuff that you could imagine fueling the kooky passions of the Victorian scientist. This place had everything, including displays of copulating simians. Plus– and a total thrill for me– they had an actual coelacanth!!! This is a monstrous, butt-ugly, crossopterygian fish, thought to have been extinct for millions years. They were rediscovered in the Comoros archipelago, off the coast of Madagascar in 1956. Guess what? Because of gross commercial overfishing, they are now in danger of becoming extinct again! (Check out the awesomely cool "coelacam", yes a live web camera, at http://www.dinofish.com). Speaking of big mongo fish, The Sydney Aquarium (http://www.sydneyaquarium.com.au) lets you get up close and personal to the whopping sharks, soaring sea turtles and bat-like stingrays of Australia's Great Barrier Reef. This cool tube-walkway "oceanarium" allows you to experience the undersea world from a point of view that is as close to a full-immersion encounter as you're likely to find. A spectacular aquarium with over 11,000 animals, I appreciated the fact that they chose to focus only on Australian aquatic life. It also provided a welcome opportunity to view that Mr. Misfit of nature frolicking playfully about– the duckbilled platypus. Opposite the Opera Quays in the district known as The Rocks, stood The Museum of Contemporary Art (http://www.mca.com.au). "Reporting the World - John Pilger's Great Eyewitness Photographers", was notable for its sheer emotional disembowelment quotient with its shocking photo-documentation of Vietnam, Cambodia and other wartime horrors. Ann's interest was piqued by the photo of the two young US Army guys in charge of the "red button" of nuclear war. Both were armed with guns, with orders to kill the other person should he unilaterally decide to go for the button. But most of the "art" was crappola– lame attempts to innovate but lacking heart. Sorry, but even considering the free admission, I can't recommend this one. Right on the water is the Australian National Maritime Museum (http://www.anmm.gov.au), which gave us the spiffo opportunity to hop into a real submarine (the Onslow) and climb aboard a battleship (the HMAS Vampire). Built in 1956, the battleship had some very interesting features that included metal "audio tubes" into which the captain could shout a command. Snaking down into the ship's chambers that housed the steering mechanisms, the crew would presumably hear these orders and carry them out. Wow. In an age of omnipresent cell phones (the Aussies love 'em), it's hard to imagine actually using such a silly thing. These days we happy-go-lucky Americans are funding an exhibition of American propaganda posters from World War II at the Maritime Museum, which might have been intended to be historically quaint. In actuality, it has the opposite effect– it's kinda sickening. The deplorable manipulation of the American people's "patriotism" by the mass media of the time is abundantly clear to see. It's all the more powerful and poignant when you consider that similar things are very much a part of our present political landscape as we unquestioningly advance toward war with Iraq. The Art Gallery of New South Wales is Sydney's main art museum (http://www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au). I was pleased to find some indications of "Australian soul" reflected in the magnificent full-scale panoramas of its unique wilderness, painted in a style akin to that of the Hudson River School in the latter part of the 1800's. It was great to see such an abundance of Australian art by Australian painters because it tells such a rich story– life in the bush, sheep shearing and the whole bit. Add to this a fine collection of aboriginal works on their own floor. I'm tellin' you people, those native paintings got the major mojo! Aboriginal ArtOne of the most amazing aspects to the trip was my introduction to Australian aboriginal art. While it shares certain elements with other forms of tribal art, notably its use of dots which reminds me of Mexican art, it has a power and resonance all its own. For starters, it seems as if it is painted to portray a dimensional perspective far beyond our own. I am reminded of both Alex Gray's taxonomic illustrations of the causal and higher mental bodies, and the descriptions in Carlos Castaneda's writings wherein he enters the shaman trance and sees the energy forms around human beings as luminous green eggs. Aboriginal art seems to illustrate a world where atoms are visible, scintillating fields harmonize into complex waves and a subtle lexicon of symbols indicate the presence of all the citizens of the Dreamtime. There seems to be a common element in these pieces where the view is one of someone looking down from a substantial height directly above, perhaps alluding to astral travel. Hills, paths, billabongs (waterholes) and other natural landmarks are indicated by topographic circles, lines and intersecting fields. Clouds, waves, streams and storms are shown by geometric patterns and cross-hatching. Animal tracks of various species, along with human footprints, wend their way through the paintings. Human beings are often shown by a highly abstract "U" shape, purported to suggest the pattern left on the sand after someone has been sitting cross-legged. Many of the paintings are narrative aides and used to bring to life certain passages in the telling of stories. The Rainbow Serpent, the most revered icon of the aboriginal pantheon, is featured in many renditions, often sporting the attributes of many different animals to suggest that it embodies all of nature. Painted primarily on sheets of bark with frayed sticks using ochre and other earth pigments, the paintings are dramatic in their simple palette of red, tawny gold, white, and black. Often an "x-ray" view of the interior of objects and animals will be shown, sometimes revealing the lunch in a crocodile's stomach. But the truly amazing thing about these paintings is that they are, most assuredly, alive. I'm told that only those paintings which do not reveal the secrets of the Dreamtime and tribal cultural secrets are allowed in the museum, so I can only imagine what kind of punch the other ones must have. All I can say is that, from my own personal experience, these babies are highly psychoactive. Just standing there and looking at some of them in the museum was throwing me quickly and powerfully into an altered state. All those lines and dots entrain the brain waves into new alignments. Things begin to throb and sway, undulating spatially, while the cerebral cortex starts to cha cha cha. It's as if a secret doorway to the Dreamtime is hidden right out there in the open and only those with the willingness to perceive it will notice. There was one particular painting that I found especially compelling (and nearly purchased) that was made up of a simple arrangement of white lines on a red background. The art was evocative enough to produce an effect I have never experienced before. It started to vibrate visibly right before my eyes. Notice that I didn't say, "it seemed to vibrate"– those lines were actually moving, wriggling around like a worm on a hook! And that's only after spending a couple minutes with it! One exquisite and revealing demonstration of the aborigines' transcendent art was in the Australian Museum. A diorama showing the impact and integration of Christianity into aboriginal society included two of the most amazing paintings I've ever beheld. One image showed the three kings attendant at the crib of the baby Jesus. The manner in which it was depicted told volumes about their vast metaphysical comprehension. This was made all the more clear to me because I was familiar with the theme, and this functioned as a kind of "Rosetta Stone" for me. In this case, the gift of the magi consisted of a damper (bread) and a billy (tea), but the three wise men were shown as luminous fields of light penetrating an almost galactic darkness pulsing forth in great waves and showers of tiny lights. The second painting depicted a highly abstract Christ at the height of his glory with arms lifted high. It's hard to describe without seeing it, but it gave the sensation of absolute, towering joy, and a sense of radiant victory. It also contained many complex layers of storytelling that imparted the sense that, above and beyond the historical details of religion, they perceived and richly understood the essence of Christ on a universal plane. The Royal National Park"The Royal National Park on the southern border of Sydney, New South Wales Australia, is Australia's first National Park and after Yellowstone in the U.S.A. was the second National Park to be established in the world." (http://www.walkabout.com.au/locations/NSWRoyalNationalPark.shtml), also (http://www.cronullabeachyha.com/tourist-information/royal-national-park.html) Bushwalking in WattamollaRugged coastline, the striking black and white flash of the wings of magpies, wattles blooming yellow against the groves of grassy eucalypt woodland. Despite the signs warning against it, swimmers jump off wind-sculpted cliffs to drop into the amber river waters 60 feet below. Beautiful stretches of golden beach stretch down from crested dunes that separate the point where the river meets the ocean. We traveled along the cliff wall, climbing over the rippling contours of weathered limestone into a fantasy landscape of titanic boulders, sea cliffs and crashing waves. Occasionally the waters would recede enough between surf surges and open up a passage between one platform and the next. I had to be quick, seizing the right moment to run, then scampering off before the waves rushed in. Ann and Dom went barefoot, a silly-seeming idea at first. But then I saw it gave them the agility to scale over rocks like a gecko. We made our way down to a lonely, wind-swept point, a long finger reaching into the tumultuous surf, watching the current flood into the labyrinthine hollows and alleyways made between the contoured megaliths. As the sun set, we left the barnacles and violet sea grass and followed rising trails overlooking the coast, lined with bottlebrush flowers, banksias, and paper-bark gum trees. Gymea lillies, long stately flowers that reach eight feet tall and look like alien sex organs reached from amongst the thick bush. Kayaking the Hacking RiverI was in the mood for a good paddling. My urges were fulfilled on the Hacking River where we glided amongst white-faced cranes, azure kingfishers, black ducks and sulfur-crested cockatoos. The rented kayaks were truly suck-ass boats, with hulls as round as an orange. We would have been better able to steer hollowed-out watermelons in a straight line. However, the beauty of the landscape made up for any of our nautical difficulties. It was picturesque and exotic, with overhanging red bloodwood gum trees, stands of cabbage tree palms, coachwood and sassafras, as well as wonga-wonga vines, wombat berry, settler's flax and shiny fan ferns. We also saw a trio of glossy-black cockatoos, which display a very different flight motion than the white ones. Cockatoos are amazingly loud. They shriek in racking cries that sound like a standard workday at the Bastille. Quite disconcerting. Cockatoos are highly social birds, with hundreds of them gathering in a small area each evening to sleep together in trees and discuss the day's adventures. They are known to play with each other while in flight, their interactions including one bird swooping toward another. Jenolan CavesJust beyond the Blue Mountains, about three hours outside of Sydney, lie Jenolan Caves (http://www.jenolancaves.org.au). Taking its name from an aboriginal word meaning "high mountains", this complex cave system contains over 300 known caves. They were formed 430 million years ago, before the advent of vertebrate organisms. There are presently thought to be 120 species of tiny animal life living in the caves, almost none of it visible to the naked eye. The caves have beautiful subterranean grottoes in white, cream, yellow and red tones. Flowstones, shawls, stalactites and stalagmites are plentiful, with the special addition of unique formations called helictites, growing in all sorts of crazy shapes in ways that defy gravity. Speleologists have yet to explain this phenomenon, (http://www.showcaves.com/english/explain/Speleothem/Helictite.html) Temple of BaalOne of the more impressive caves with particularly magnificent formations was the Temple of Baal. The cave was named after an ancient god in Mesopotamia. It received this name because of a distinctive stalagmite high in a cupola that resembled a ruined statue. The original white discoverers of the caves were Freemasons; therefore many of the names of cave formations are related to Masonic philosophy. In fact, Masonic rituals are still held in the caves today. Our guide mentioned that one historical reference to the ancient worship of Baal involved offering human sacrifice to a gargantuan statue. The "offerings" were placed in the giant mouth while a raging bonfire blazing in the belly of the idol rendered the oily remains of the corpses into liquid. This would then run down a passage inside to emerge from Baal's giant penis, spewing out the tip like a kind of repugnant ejaculate. Talk about some fun-loving guys! Our guide also told a very interesting tale of his encounter with the ghost of James Carvossa Wiburd, who was the superintendent of the caves beginning in 1903. Apparently, Wiburd discovered many of the better "showcase" chambers and even found a few he thought were too good to release to the ravages of the public. These he carefully sealed up. After he died, an entry in his diary was found that spoke about a magnificent chamber with a vast underground lake, "big enough to float a battleship". Well, people have been chasing after that prize for the last hundred years. (His diary is now held by the Masons of the Oberon Lodge.) The cavern has a spectacular white ribbon-like structure called the angel's wing. There is a constant drip coming from it, even when the land above has experienced severe drought. It is speculated that the lake chamber might actually be above the Temple of Baal. When Wiburd died, he placed a perplexing request into his will: that no one ever attempt to ascend to the high ledge where the "Baal" stalagmite resides. Of course, human nature being what it is, everyone assumes that the entrance to the lake chamber is up there and they've been trying to get to it for a century now. Ford (our guide) feels differently. He suggests that this was Wiburd's deliberate ploy to throw the spoilers off the track. He recounts his own saga of feeling as if he had been led down a passage deep in the bowels of the cave, then tapped on the shoulder by an unseen hand. His gaze then fell upon a wall of mud and gravel bearing the appearance of having been assembled to conceal an otherwise open tunnel. He has deduced that the real way to the lake chamber is through this corridor. It remains a mystery as to whether this will turn out to be true or not. A discovery of this much magnitude would be likely to make news worldwide, so remember this story should you ever hear of such an extraordinary find in the caves of Australia. The PlugholeFor this adventure we got suited up in some rough-and-ready spelunking gear. Coveralls, helmets with the front mounted miner's light, big metal battery packs strapped to the side to power the light, and mountain climbing harnesses. We then went to a large cave mouth, a hole descending down in the earth. I don't know what the term is for it, but in Latin countries, such an opening is called a cenote. One by one, we abseiled (repelled) down into the hole. Then we proceeded to climb though a series of passages winding down into the depths. This section of the caverns had been explored since the 1830's. We came across a variety of examples of historical graffiti, some bearing the phrase "God Save the Queen" after the signature, and "VR" which may stand for "Victoria Regina" (Queen Victoria Rules). We then journeyed through a series of unbelievably tight nooks and crannies. It was astounding! Imagine being far, far underground in absolute darkness (except for your helmet light) and the only way to get into the next chamber of the labyrinth is to get down on your face in the dirt and shimmy around like a caterpillar, creeping through tubes of limestone that bend around in "S" curves and are not much bigger than your head! Most of the time, we had no idea where we were headed, and it was way too snug to look forward. It was a bit like navigating a wombat burrow. Some of the holes required us to slide on our backs, feet first, squeezing through an area so tight we couldn't have our arms at our sides, they could only be over our heads. We then emerged into a chamber with a sharp drop-off in which we would have to immediately place our foot on a narrow lip of rock. Big fun! We had a blast! Also amazing was the fact that our guides were two septuagenarian retirees. This was their hobby job in their old age! They were nimble too, let me tell you. They could slide through those chutes like a couple of greased pigs. Echidna EncounterAs daylight drew to a close, we had the rare sighting of a spiny echidna (Tachyglossus aculeatus multiaculeatus). The echidna is a member of an ancient and primitive group of mammals called monotremes. Even more archaic than marsupials, which Australia is also known for, this eccentric little critter also keeps its young in a pouch. The Family Education Network has this to say about them: Found in Australia, Tasmania, and New Guinea. The only members of this order are the platypus, or duckbilled platypus, and the several species of echidna, or spiny anteater. Although monotremes possess the distinguishing mammalian features of hair and mammary glands, they are unique among mammals in laying eggs rather than giving birth to live young. The eggs are like those of reptiles, with large yolks and leathery shells. Like birds and reptiles, monotremes have a single opening, the cloaca, for the passage of liquid and solid wastes, the transfer of sperm, and, in the female, the laying of eggs. In addition, certain features of the skeletal structure are like those of reptiles, and the regulation of body temperature is less effective than in other mammals. Adult monotremes are toothless. The males possess spurs on their hind feet; these are connected to poison glands and are presumably used as weapons. Mammals are known to have evolved from reptiles; the monotremes probably branched off at an early stage of mammalian evolution and have retained many reptilian features. They are classified in the phylum Chordata, subphylum Vertebrata, class Mammalia, order Monotremata. (http://www.factmonster.com/ce6/sci/A0833764.html) Cute, cute, cute. That's what I have to say. We apprehended the little bugger as he was bouncing down the trail. Spooked by our approach, he rolled into a fat little ball, and then stretched out his long snout tentatively. Nope! Too much noise out there! He curled back in, dug down in to the soil a bit, and pointed those little pokers outward. By this time quite a crowd of onlookers had assembled. I ventured so far as to stroke my hand along his back, feeling the bristle of those stout little spines. I loved it! Very cool stuff! Find out more about echidnas at http://www.echidna.edu.au/monohome.htm The PromIt's taken me twenty years since I went to high school, but I can now hold my head up and declare, "Yeah, I went to the Prom". Of course, I'll be referring to Wilson's Promontory, the furthest south one can go on the main landmass of Australia. Known by the Boon-Oor-Rong aborigines as Yiruk or Wamoom, Wilson's Promontory National Park contains the largest coastal wilderness area in Victoria. The park has diverse vegetation communities including warm temperate and cool temperate rainforests, tall open forests, woodlands, heathlands, swamp and coastal communities. I found myself walking on a bridge over a bog into twisted groves of the oddest, most magical looking trees– the sort of place that looks like a setting in a novel about wizards and elves. Then the path segue-wayed into another landscape equally as exotic, haunting and unimaginable. Dinosaur-sized rocks were piled high upon sloping dunes, stacked in such a way as to suggest that they had fallen from the sky and tumbled atop each other, balanced in precarious ways. Bright orange lichen, green, light green, white, yellow, orange, and rusty red added color to these rocks, while olive and florescent purple algae waved long tendrils in the currents below. Moments of glorious, sparkling sunshine traded briskly with roiling thunderheads over meandering beaches dotted with cuttlebone and sea kelp. The sand is so fine that it is rumored to make an audible sound with each footstep, hence the name of Squeaky Beach. The Prom is also home to the world's smallest penguin, the fairy penguin. (http://www.walkabout.com.au/locations/VICWilsonsPromontory.shtml) We stayed in a quaint little bed and breakfast– Tingara Cottages, near the village of Yanakie, where I warmed my meat pasties on the wood-burning stove at night after our long days of trekking. In the morning, after our breakfast, I sketched the view from out of our front window. (click here to see my sketch).
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