ACROSS THE NULLARBOR BUYING CANE TOADS - A Most Importunate Journey

Day 10, 7 May 2018

A Lay Day in Ceduna

Up betimes - then back to bed  - because today, we go nowhere!

It is a "lay-day".

When it was suggested to former president of the TRU Management Committee, Bernard Hill, that the 1976 season roster should include one or more "lay days" he responded: "What do you mean? A day for fucking?"

It would not be appropriate, in a family-oriented forum like this one, for the Prop to say anything more than that the day was spent stocking up with essential supplies for the dash across the Nullarbor and spending rather longer than was reasonable trying to get the satellite receiver and accompanying dish talking to each other so that the Prop could travel to the uttermost parts of the Earth and continue to watch Peter Googa read the ABC news.

Also time for a pleasant stroll through the sand dunes behind Shelly Beach.

The Cane Toad at rest amid the palms of the Shelly Beach Caravan Park, Ceduna, S.A.   

Day 11,  8 May 2018

Ceduna to Nullarbor Roadhouse

Up betimes in order to hit the "frog and toad" (as it were) for Ceduna.

A little way down the track, at Penong we discovered "the Big Windmill".

To be fair, it is not billed as THE big windmill, just as "the biggest windmill in Australia".

It may be found at the Penong Windmill Museum which, so far as the Prop can tell, is a sort of park furnished with about twenty or so different windmills of varying sizes but no public conveniences.

The Comet Windmill - and friends  

Not thirty kilometres from Penong is Bookabie, home of the Big Wombat.  Unfortunately, while looking out for the Big Wombat, the Prop missed the turn-off to Bookabie and hence, the Big Wombat itself.  maybe we will check it out on the way back?

The Big Wombat of Bookabie - easily missed

Next, something really, really big!

The Great Australian Bight!!  Easily the biggest bight in Australia.

The Big Bight

Reached the Nullarbor Roadhouse at the height of the noonday sun - assuming that noon is at 1.30 pm in these parts.  No water on tap but you can have a shower for $1.00 and a beer for $7.50.

Perfick!

The Nullarbor Roadhouse Caravan Park - no greenkeeper required. 

Tomorrow: We travel to the Eastern University of California, Los Angeles - EUCLA

EUCLA or Ceduna TAFE - a tough choice

ACROSS THE NULLARBOR BY CAIN TOWED - A Most Improbable Journey

Day 3.75, 29 April 2018 

Station Pier to Braybrook

The SS Axolotyl under full steam - or one very much like her

The SS Axolotyl arrived at Station Pier in Melbourne at precisely 7.00 pm as advertised.  It was pitch dark and with only a late-model GPS to guide us, we set out - not without trepidation - for the Melbourne Discovery Holiday Park and other parts unknown.

Only one wrong turn and there we were by 8.00 pm eating deep fried street food from an in-park food vending van!

Very nice, but not quite perfick!

Day 4,  30 April 2018 

Melbourne to Lake Fyans

Up betimes (as Samuel Pepys would say) to look about the "Melbourne Discovery Holiday Park" at Braybrook.  It is immediately apparent that many others have also "discovered" this little bit of tourist infrastructure well before the Prop and Mrs P.

The joint is as full as a fat girl's sock and bigger than God's underpants!

Uneventful drive out of the metropolis towards Halls Gap via Ballarat.

228 km later and just short of Halls Gap in the shadows of the Grampians, we spy a sign reading "Lake Fyans Holiday Park".

Well reviewed on Wiki Camps (the holiday park, not us) and feeling essurient (us, not the holiday park) we decide to give it a shot.

Perfick!

Lake Fyans with the Grampians in the background

Day 5, 1 May 2018 

Lake Fyans to Halls Gap and Back Again

Up betimes (if 8.00 am is "betimes"") to attend to a spot of professional business and then off to conquer the mighty Grampians!

"Conquer"may be too large a word in this context, the conquest consisting of a 2 hour return walk/climb/struggle to "The Pinnacle Lookout" a remote but astonishingly popular lookout at the top of the Grampians.

The View from the Pinnacle 

The Prop hoped that once there he might commune with nature for a moment or two.  Instead he was obliged to commune with a large and rather rowdy group of schoolchildren!  Not at all the same thing!

Victorian school kiddies eager to commune with the Prop

Still the views were good and the exercise no doubt did wonders for the Props's cardio-vascular system.

A good view

One note of minor embarrassment: The Prop and Mrs P appeared to be the only walkers above school age who were not equipped with a pair of stylish aluminium rambling sticks. Now on the shopping list!

Doesn't pay to look like an amateur but the Prop draws the line at wearing lycra.

Off west tomorrow...

Day 6, 2 May 2018
"Wont'You Take Me To Funkytown Bordertown"

Up betimes and on the road west.

Passing through Dadswells Bridge the Prop almost missed the most remarkable piece of tourist infrastructure that the northern Grampians has to offer - the Giant Koala cafe!  In truth, with a little more luck, the Prop might have missed it altogether.

Not sure about all these "big" tourist things in Australia.  They may be something of a paradox - a bit like the "mullet" hairstyle.  

One can never be quite sure whether the wearer of a mullet (or the proprietor of a "big" tourist attraction) is serious and really likes the thing OR is quietly taking the piss.  This means that one never knows whether one is laughing AT the mullet-wearer or WITH the mullet-wearer. 

More concerning is the possibility that the mullet-wearer is laughing AT you while you are laughing at/with the mullet-wearer because he knew all along that you would!

The Giant Koala of Dadswells Bridge - probably has a mullet!  

Due to South Australian quarantine restrictions, the Prop and Mrs P were obliged to lunch on several apples and a tomato or two to save them from the bin at the border.  Most heartbreaking of all, the Prop had to dispose of half a dozen home-grown capsicums - the first he has ever managed to successfully cultivate despite numerous attempts.

Arrived at Funkytown  Bordertown by 2.00 pm to a very pleasant 26 degrees.

It is called "Bordertown" because it is close to the border.

It is not called Funkytown because, although it is a pleasant enough little town, being as generous as one can, its lacks a little in the "funk" department.

Bordertown SA, virtually funk-free

Day 7, 3 May 2018

Funkytown to Kapunda

Up betimes on account of a power blackout!

After a night of boisterous weather conditions the Prop awoke to find no mains electricity was making its way to the Cane Toad.  Perhaps the South Australian grid (Tesla battery and all) had failed again?

Not so!  Upon investigation it appeared that water had leaked between the side of the Cane Toad and the electrical input socket causing what we amateur "sparkies" refer to as a"short".

A bit of fiddling and a bit of insulation tape and all good...we hope....

Heading in a general north-westerly direction we passed through Keith - don't know his other name - but were unable to locate what is billed as the second best attraction in that location: "The Land Rover on a Pole".  At first the Prop thought that this might be a memorial to a Polish immigrant unfortunately run over by a 4WD. Turns out that someone thought it was a good idea to weld an old jeep to the top of a big pipe and stick it in a park.

The second best attraction in Keith

Saw a nice piece of silo art in Coonalpyn.

Silo Art - the only attraction in Coonalpyn

Drove through Eden Valley, the Barossa Valley including Nurioopta just so we could say "Nurioopta" several times before we finally arrived in "Kapunda".  

As many readers will know, this charming little town, formerly known as Coppertown has recently been re-named in honour of the Prop's close personal friend, Mr Ronaldo Kapunda, the famous naturist.  The town ordinarily has an ideal climate for naturists, both young and old, but today was a rare exception. It was as cold as Liaweenee and everyone in town had their full kit on - including the Prop and Mrs P.

Ronaldo Kapunda pictured on a warm day

Tomorrow: The Prop susses out "the Big Miner" - or should that be the Major Miner?

Day 8, 4 May 2018

Kapunda to Woolundunga

Up betimes after yet another night of boisterous weather but the Cane Toad was tight and men did their duty.

First stop, "Map Kernouw".  According to the "interpretation infrastucture" (i.e. signs) "Map Kernouw" means "son of Cornwall" in the Cornish dialect.  Turns out Kapunda (formerly "Coppertown") had the first working mine in Australia.  It was staffed by men from Cornwall who wore stiff leather hats with wax candles stuck to them with lumps of clay so they could see underground.  This was, in 1840, what we would now call "cutting edge technology".  

In truth it was just a fire hazard!

Anyway, lots of little Cornish miners came to South Australia and brought their hats, candles and pasties with them and helped to make this country great: That's  more or less what the "interpretation infrastucture" says.

"Map Kernouw" a major miner in Kapunda

Farewell Kapunda - you have done Ronaldo proud!

Ronaldo Kapunda - as proud as buggery

Back in the saddle of the Cane Toad inwe made for Port Augusta.  However disappointing (not to say somewhat disturbing) reviews on the only two Cane Toad Parks in Port Augusta forced a rethink.  At length, Mrs P found a very nice little establishment called "Woolundunga"  As well as servicing Cane Toads (and their owners) Woolundunga produces South African sheep which eat saltbush and make very nice saltbush-flavoured meat.

Woolundunga also has a very fine collection of stromatolites.  Eager to view them (despite not knowing what a stromatolite is or what one looks like) the Prop and Mrs P set off on a hand-drawn-map bushwalk to the site of said stromatolites.  

About an hour later we arrived at a location which may or may not have been rich in stromatolites.  It was unarguably rich in pieces of rock.  Bereft and bewildered we returned to camp afraid someone might ask us to describe the stromatolites that we had seen. So, we repaired to the Cane Toad for the night to "google" images of stromatolites in the hope that we might find something that looked like something that we had seen earlier. Not sure that we did!

Could this be a stromatolite? Who knows?

We did see some nice birds and a nice sunset though.

Fincus Stromatolitus - or the Common Stromatolite Finch - very common in Woolundunga 

A nice sunset

Tomorrow: The Nullarbor beckons... 

Day 8, 5 May 2018

Woolundunga to Wudinna

Up betimes to sally forth to the outback...well quite close to the outback at any rate.

Lots of steering the Cane Toad in a straight line today.

Paid a visit to Kimba (sic) to appreciate more silo art.  Who knew four years ago that "silo art" was even a thing?

Silo Art in Kimba - but not a white lion in sight!

However, often the oldies are the real goodies.  In the shadows of the tarted-up Kimba silos stands - and has stood since a time whereof the mind of man runneth not to the contrary - THE BIG GALAH.
The Big G may be weathered and faded but still, like a colossus he bestrides the Eyre Highway like a...well...galah! (The use of the word bestrides is not strictly accurate as, in fact, all of the Big G is on the southern side of the Eyre Highway.  However, so imposing is the Big G that he seems to bestride the very continent itself! [Readers will excuse this hyperbolic flourish])

The Big Galah - but is it art?

Waving a fond farewell to Kimba and the Big G, the Prop and Mrs P moved on to Wudinna.
Uninstructed the Prop would have pronounced the name of this place Wuh-Dinna.  However, not being up with the Anglicisation of Aboriginal words, he was not to know that the locals call it Woodener. (as in "His smile was wooden, hers was woodener, but mine was the woodenest")

Wudinna also has a "big thing" called the "Australian Farmer" it is carved from the local red granite and is very impressive.  It is also very universal in the sense that it does not seek to imitate the appearance of any particular individual.  In fact, it doesn't even look like any individual, let alone a farmer.  It doesn't even have a hat!  But apparently it is "art" so that doesn't matter.   

The "Australian Farmer" - a fine example of art.   

Tomorrow : To the Very Edge of the Nullabor - Ceduna here we come! 

"ACROSS THE NULLARBOR BY CANE TOAD" - A Most Improbable Journey

The Prop is back!

Despite failing so miserably to make good on his representations concerning more timely posts from the journey from "Istanbul to Inverness", undeterred and undaunted the Prop is having yet another crack at the Blogging caper.

For those who may be interested to know what happened after Chios (to be frank, no-one has has expressed the slighest interest in knowing, let alone disappointment in not knowing) the Prop and Mrs P moved on to Ikaria then Mykonos then Naxos, Koufonosia and Iraklia before going to Athens, Thessaloniki and then Belgrade.

From Belgrade to Bar on Tito's train then Kotor, Dubrovnik, Korcula, Hvar and Split. 

From Split by overnight ferry to Ancona and then by train to Bellano on the shores of Lake Como for a week off. Time to write the immediately preceding post then no further blogs - not a sausage!

From Bellano to Barcelona via Milan then to Madrid, San Sebastian (Donostia), Hendaye, Paris, London by Eurostar then to the "Stylotel" Paddington (world's smallest hotel rooms). 

Then Heathrow Express to Heathrow Airport to pick up a rental car. Four hour wait. Then drive to Woodstock near Oxford. Take up residence in curious16th century dwelling (not Blenheim Palace) with P Kimber et al.  

Then watched quite a lot of rugby live (Cardiff, Cardiff, Leeds, Twickenham and Twickenham) and on the telly at the Woodstock Social Club (excellent Sunday  roasts).

After the rugby, quick trip around "the North" and Scotland:  Knaresborough, Bishops Stortford (ancient family seat of the Prop), Norwich, Lincoln, York, Knaresborough, Whitby, Bamburgh Castle, Berwick-upon-Tweed (not quite Scotland), Lundin Links, Ballater, Dundee, Aberdeen, Cullen, Inverness (yes, Inver- bloody- ness, we made it!), Kinlochbervie, John O' Groats, Skye, Fort Wiiliam, Loch Lomond, Glasgow, Ambleside, Daventry, Hobart.

If that were not enough, the Prop - much encouraged by Mrs P - has determined to cross the Nullarbor Plain by cane toad. (In fact in a car and self-contained caravan compete with satellite telly. The "cane toad"  thing is a shameless rip-off of the second most famous of the "Ripping Yarns" and sounds much more exotic, even interesting).

Day 1,  27 April 2018 

At "The Sands"

Sunset on the Hazards

Spent the day at "the Sands" preparing the "Cane Toad" for the arduous journey ahead.
Fiddled with a grease nipple or two but otherwise no news of a salacious, lewd or even interesting nature to report.

The "Cane Toad"

Day 2,  28 April 2018

The Sands to Devonport

A bit more fiddling and a surprise visit from Lady Luck (and her husband, Bob) then time to set off.

Not so!! Flat battery in the Cane Toad!!!

Get the jump-starter - another flat battery!!!

Get the "Old Crocodile" and jumper leads.  

Success!!!

Off we go...

The Old Crocodile

Day 3, 29 April 2018 

Devonport to Melbourne by Axolotyl

Up at sparrow-fart to board the Axolotyl for a day crossing to Melbourne.

The Prop had thought about going the other way but in the end settled for crossing Bass Strait.

Due to a happy administrative error the Prop booked a de luxe cabin for a daylight crossing!

The De Luxe Cabin

Expensive? Yes.

Silly? Well, not so. Very relaxing day lying on a bed and watching telly.

Perfick!

The SS Axolotyl

That's us - top window on the left (port side)

GETTING BETTER BUT STILL ROOM FOR IMPROVEMENT!

GETTING BETTER BUT STILL ROOM FOR IMPROVEMENT!

Dateline: Bellano, Lake Como, Northern Italy - 30 August 2015

On the one hand, the Prop is unjustifiably pleased with himself for issuing his third post of the “Istanbul to Inverness Grand Tour” within a mere ten days of its predecessor.

 

On the other hand, it remains the fact that the Prop is still more than a month behind in bringing the reader news of what is happening out here on the road.

On balance however, this third post represents a positive development and, to the extent that it might be said that some sort of exponential trend is developing, the next and fourth post may be expected in a little over three days!

At that rate, it seems entirely possible that by about the middle of next week the Prop will not only be completely up to date but will, in fact, be reporting on destinations which he and Mrs P have not yet reached!

On reflection, the Prop thinks he may need to slow down the pace of things!

CHIOS 

The National Bank of Greece, Chios.  Unfortunately not open for business while we were there.

The port of Chios, Chios

At 11.15 on Sunday July 19 we said farewell to Lesvos.

A man who saw us was kind enough to explain that there is no point trying to talk to an island in English – especially a Greek island.  In fact even speaking Greek to a Greek island has its limitations.  But unlike the locals, at least Lesvos appeared to pretend to understand what we were saying.

The Prop and Mrs P struggled aboard the impressive MV “Nissos Rhodos” bound for the neighbouring island of Chios (say: He-oss).

The Nissos Rhodos - every day is like a Boxing Day Sale

The “struggle” involved many elements. 

First, there are no discernible rules about who or when or where passengers and vehicles may embark on a Greek ferry.  This makes for a scene a like one sees on telly on the day after Boxing Day, of people clamouring to get into department stores to buy things they wanted for Christmas but apparently couldn’t afford until after Christmas when the price went up – but with the added thrill of some shoppers on motor bikes and others in four wheel drives and motorhomes.  There were no deaths this day but the Prop believes that it is only a matter of time.

Second, as the reader will know, modern suitcases are manufactured with two and sometimes four wheels on the bottom.  This is supposed to assist the traveler who is on a 5 month journey and schlepping through Europe with 25 kg of luggage, to move his or her luggage from place to place with relative ease and with fingertip control.

 

There are, however, two serious flaws in this supposition. 

First, the little wheels are no match for the many stairs and steel cleats one encounters on Greek ferries (not to mention the very uneven – I use the word advisedly) quality, of much of the paving to be found on the Greek islands.  

Secondly, the Prop has it on good authority that a dedicated unit of the KGB is responsible for the design and manufacture of the little wheels and that it goes to great lengths to ensure that of those little wheels destined for suitcases to sold to residents of the rest of the world, at least one in every three will fail after no more than one kilometre and none is capable of being repaired.  The result is that you cannot replace the one defective wheel on your suitcase which self-destructs about four days after your journey begins so you must replace the whole suitcase knowing that, statistically speaking, one of the little wheels on the new case is also going to give up the ghost before the end of the following week.

(Note that the Prop has chosen to divide the second element of the “struggle” into two sub-elements.  Of course, one might just as easily have treated the second sub-element as a third element of the struggle – which perhaps, ought to have been done because I did say the struggle had “many “ elements, which usually implies more than two!)       

On arrival at the capital of Chios, called Chios (Chios, Chios – so good they named it twice; and did so quite a long time before New York!) we chivvied out our accommodation at the quaintly-named “Pelineon Rooms” (The “n” is apparently optional - see pic.)

Pelineo Rooms - or did the signwriter just run out of room?
The Prop will have more to say about the quality of Greek signwriting in subsequent posts.

The name was not the only thing that was quaint about the place.  Still, it had a small balcony with an excellent view of the harbour and was nearly close enough to the water to be able to touch the MV “Nissos Rhodos” as she turned and left town.  

A vessel similar to the Nissos Rhodos does a U-Turn in the middle of town in the middle of the night.

In truth the balcony, which measured about two metres by 0.75 m was a good deal larger than the room itself!

The al fresco bedroom at the Pelineo(n) Rooms 

 The balcony (or al frecsco bedroom as Mrs P liked to call it) also had a very good view of some of the many street-vendors’ kiosks which dot the footpaths of so many European cities.  At the risk of correction (A Welsh reader whom the Prop regards as being much too enthusiastic has, in private correspondence, pointed out that the English word “pier” comes from the Latin “Pera” and not from the Greek Pyrgos, which may be so.  But the Prop asks: From where did the Romans get the word “Pera”?  From the Greeks perhaps?) the Prop has discovered that the word “kiosk” is one of only a handful of Turkish words which are in common use in English.  A thorough (and if the Prop may say so, very learned) discussion of the topic can be found here:  http://home.iprimus.com.au/glsealy/

On Chios may be found several run-of-the-mill kiosks - but also an “Executive Kiosk”! 

The "Executive" kiosk, Chios, Chios.  So good they [nearly] named it thrice!

It turns out that the island of Chios is mainly famous for the production of “mastic”.  Prior to his arrival on the island the Prop had only ever heard mention of the word “mastic” from his late father who used the term to describe any of a variety of latex/bituminous substances useful for plugging leaks in roofs, pipes etc.  That a Greek island should claim to be famous for producing sticky waterproof goo seemed to the Prop to be a claim that should not be made lightly.  In fact, it seemed to be a claim hardly worth making at all!

A working mastic tree. Bowed but not broken.  The white area is clay used to prevent the sap from seeping into the ground.

It turns out that “mastic” is the sap of a particular tree that grows on the island.  The sap drops from the trees and is collected by the locals after spreading a layer of impervious clay beneath each tree, then picking up the dry drips and turning them into an astonishing variety of things like chewing gum, soap, medicine, liqueurs and other alcoholic beverages.  When sufficiently warm mastic could easily be used to plug leaks - but surprisingly the natives don’t yet seem to have twigged to this further possible use.      

The Prop and Mrs P paid a visit to the walled city of Mesta and thence to Pyrgi (the Greek word for more than one tower – I think that’s where the Latin word Pera comes from) where Christopher Columbus used to live.  But apparently he hasn’t lived there for years.  I suppose because it’s well inland and quite a walk down to his boat from there. 

Inside the walled city of Mesta.  Maps are available on request

Pyrgi - where all of the residents paint their houses with black and white geometric designs.  It is thought that the residents of Do-Town on the Tasman Peninsula got the idea from here.

To be honest, the Prop is a bit vague on the Christopher Columbus detail mainly because, due to an administrative error we ended up on a Turkish language guided tour and didn’t understand a word all day!  

The former residence of Christopher Columbus.  The Prop thinks he must have got lost. No wonder he found America while looking for India! 

Maybe it was the fillum director of the same name who used to live there.  

Maybe it was Magellan?  

Who cares?

Let’s have another glass of mastic!

Toilet facilities on the Turkish tour bus were woefully inadequate!

 

One of the most popular beaches on the island of Chios.  Note the excellent coverage of gravel and shale instead of sand.  The locals like to walk on these stones at the height of the midday sun in order to burn the soles of their feet. 

NEXT: Ikaria – if you are going to fly to the Sun don’t use wax.  Use mastic instead! 

RUMOURS OF THE PROP'S DEATH MUCH EXAGGERATED

RUMOURS OF THE PROP'S DEATH MUCH EXAGGERATED

Dateline - Zmovska Banja, Korcula, Croatia

OK, OK, OK.  So it's exactly one calendar month since the Prop last "blogged".

Call it constipation.

Call it writer's block.

Call it the greatest choke since the Great White Shark, Greg Norman retired (and possibly since the Great Black Shark, Tiger Woods dropped out of the top 300) .

What can I say?  The Prop ran out of puff after the first scrum and hasn't really been in the game ever since.
 
The Prop's therapist has suggested possible PTSD following the "Galata Tower Incident" (q.v.)

The Prop is content to put it down to too much cheap wine and a lot of old-fashioned indolence. Indeed if it were not for the fact that the fifth and un-deciding test has just started at the Oval, there is a good chance that the Prop would be at "the plage" down the hill having a quick dip in the Adriatic.

But the Prop forgets himself - much as he has forgotten the reader who, in recent days, has been making ever more earnest imprecations by email and otherwise, requesting; nay, demanding fresh content on the Blog.

Even Mrs P has begun telling the Prop to pull his journalistic finger out!!

So, to pick up the story where we left off.....Lesvos, I think it might have been.

LESVOS

Mytilini, on the island of Lesvos .
The motorcycle that this man is holding is believed to have been stolen in Istanbul. 

The island of Lesvos (also known as Lesbos) gave birth to the eponymous  "lesbian" - for no reason that is apparent today.  Although it is a very popular destination for lesbian women (tautology?) from all over the world who, the Prop is told, come here on a sort of pilgrimage.

On arrival at Lesvos we were obliged to clear customs and passport control.  There were, the Prop estimates, about 200 people on the "feribot" from Ayvalik.  There were four queues - but as it turned out - only two passport officers, one of whom apparently worked part time but without leaving his booth.  I guess it took almost an hour before we cleared customs and were made available to the local taxi drivers to haggle over.  Eventually it was settled and we were told how much we would have to pay.  When the Prop suggested that he would pay whatever was on the meter, all twenty or so taxi drivers present began laughing uncontrollably!

Lesvos lies to the west of, and close to, Turkey.  As a consequence, large numbers of Syrian refugees enter Greece by way of Lesvos having first made their way through Turkey which shares a border with Syria.  For about 15,000 Euros, people smugglers will move the refugees the 20 or so kilometres from Turkey to Lesvos.  From there, the refugees fan out through the Greek islands (which can scarce afford to deal with them - you may have heard that Greece is in a bit of financial strife just now) most of them seeking to make their way to the mainland and thence to Western Europe.

Syrian refugees sleeping on the deck of an inter-island ferry.

At the present time about 40,000 (forty thousand) a month are arriving in Greece.

(This provides an interesting comparison with Australia's "border protection crisis" which, at its peak, saw as many as 2,000 (two thousand) refugees per year (or as many as 180 a month) entering Australia by boat.)

EU policy is that those claiming refugee status, once issued with identity documents, may live and move freely within EU territory while their claims are being assessed.  They don't seem to think much of the Australian approach of locking everyone up offshore to prevent them from having either legal or practical access to the courts and keeping them there for 4 or 5 years or maybe even forever.

Apart from the massive cost, I wonder what they think is wrong with the Australian way of doing things?

I guess that's what happens when you are stupid enough to respect human rights!

What is happening throughout much of continental Europe at the moment is far from ideal with large numbers of refugees - men, women and children - sleeping rough in city parks and any available vacant land.  But the Prop feels pretty sure that if you asked them, they'd say they would rather be living like that than in a prison  on some busted-arse Pacific island.

But the Prop has digressed!

The Prop took an almost instant liking to the capital, Mytilini, not least because at the first cafe we came to the first item on the menu was a small plate of nibbles, bread, a large glass of ouzo and a dish of ice - all for 4 Euros (A$ 6).

A nutritious, well-balanced, wholesome and intoxicating meal for just 4 Euros

This was as nourishing as it was refreshing as it was intoxicating.

The Prop more or less instantly declared that there was no reason to go anywhere else until mid-September when we are due in Oxford, England.  However, but not without a little difficulty, Mrs P was, eventually, able to persuade the Prop that there were other worthwhile things to do in Europe.

(As subsequent blogs will reveal, Mrs P was, as ever, right on the money)

We lodged at the "Pyrgos of Mytilini" a fine old building decorated in the byzantine/ roccoco/ baroque style (i.e.,that style in which no amount of excess is regarded as being excessive)  The word "pyrgos" (say: peer-go) means "tower" and just about every town and city in Greece has a Pyrgos something or other.  The Prop thinks that the English word "pier" may owe its origins to this ubiquitous bit of Greek.

Pygros of Mytilini - up the hill and a bit over the top!

The boudoir

One day, feeling intrepid, the Prop and Mrs P purchased tickets on the local bus from Mytilini to Molyvos  - a port and tourist hub located on the north of the island.  The Prop was lucky enough to be seated next to a youngish woman who was evidently not enjoying good health. So far as the Prop was able to ascertain from one or two polite questions and a lot of careful observation, she had traveled to Mytilini to seek medical treatment for some unknown condition and had been supplied with some pills and a device which looked a lot like Dr Who's sonic screwdriver but which, it seems, was capable of delivering or injecting medicine subcutaneously under very high pressure.  A bit like a small portable tyre inflator - but for the forearm (That might explain why Popeye looks like he does?)
Anyway, this poor woman, being unsure whether to take one of her pills or to inflate her forearm with the sonic screwdriver decided to do both - and then have a smoke.

She got off shortly afterwards still alive but looking a bit peeky,

Molyvos was nice.

Molyvos - tourist hub for fat Germans who pay too much for their souvenirs in the hope of impressing their secretaries

The sort of place where fat German businessmen would go on holidays.  Surely enough there were quite a few fat German businessman around town - some with wives...or girlfriends...or secretaries.  The souvenirs were pretty much the same same as those in Mytilini  - but about one or two Euros more.  That's how you can tell the place is classy.

A fat German Businessman looking for his secretary in Molyvos

More fat Germans at Molyvos deciding whether to have a swim or a beer

Eager to sample some of the local seafood, the Prop ordered grilled calamari for lunch.  During the longish wait, the Prop imagined tucking into tender succulent segments of sweet calamari and began salivating.  What eventually arrived was a material of such a consistency that the manufacturers of the Blundstone boot would readily pay a premium to secure regular supplies.  Not for the manufacture of the soles of the boots - for this calamari (if that is what it was) was not of a rubbery consistency.  No! This was the stuff from which the hard-wearing uppers of very sensible shoes are made!

Exhausted by our trip to Molyvos, the Prop and Mrs P next day headed to the beach (or the Plage as they call it here.  It is French and means "no sand , just gravel and sharp rocks").  It was very nice indeed - aprat from the gravel and sharp rocks.  Free sunlounges courtesy of the local municipal council and scantily clad young ladies to fetch cold drinks and comestibles - but at a price.

The Plage at Mytilini.  

Next : Off to Chios