Freaky weather -- a sign of things to come?

I was watching Good Morning America early today and was appalled by the weather system moving into the US. Today will be 37 C here (100 F), but we've had miserable weather for the past few days... cold, wet, windy.

I think I must be getting paranoid after watching "The Day After Tomorrow" the other week with Esther. The story is based on current scientific thinking that ice ages are actually triggered by global warming... the ice caps begin breaking up, salinity of the oceans is lowered by the melting ice, the water temperature begins dropping, affecting the life-giving major currents, especially in the northern hemisphere, and this gives rise to major climate vortices, at the centre of which the temperature plummets to less than minus-150 F, snap freezing anything over which it passes. (Thus explaining the discovery of a Siberian mammoth, frozen upright, with food in its mouth and stomach still.)

Well... in the past 6 months a major part of the Ross Ice Shelf of Antarctica has broken away and begun to disintegrate. This was the opening scenario of the movie, made more than a year before this happened! It's feared that as much as 40% of the Antarctic penguin population will perish as a result of this disaster.

Three weeks ago there was a significant disturbance in the floor of the Southern Ocean which, geophysicists believe, triggered the Indian Ocean earthquake and tsunamis.

At the same time, the annual Sydney-to-Hobart ocean yacht race lost a record number of entrants due to massive seas and storms, especially in Bass Strait, which is fed by the Southern Ocean. I could only watch in utter bewilderment as race organisers ignored gale warnings and predictions of 20 metre (65 foot) waves of the kind that cost 6 crewmen their lives a couple of years ago, with scores of near-misses, due only to the bravery of rescue crews, and pressed on with plans to conduct the race. Unbelievably irresponsible behavior, all round.

In yesterday's paper there was an article on the current boom in the Tasmanian salmon fishing industry -- giant salmon are being harvested, their size affected by the drop in water temperature in the Southern Ocean.

Our weather comes directly off the Southern Ocean. We're currently experiencing unseasonably cold weather and storms -- sort of a reverse El Nino (El Nino climate is triggered by a rise in ocean temperatures of less than 5 C).

Hel-lo-o? Is everyone asleep at the wheel? Can nobody see any connections here?

Think I'll move to high ground in Queensland -- or Papua New Guinea!

2005 doesn't feel much different

Esther and I spent New Year's Eve together just hanging out. We sort of half planned to go to nearby Phillip Island for the afternoon and evening (evening for the large carnival at Cowes), but that was before we remembered that it was New Year's Eve.

Phillip Island, and Cowes township in particular, are notorious for drunken, loutish behaviour on New Year's Eve. Having grown up on country police stations, I had no wish to expose my daughter or myself to that kind of unpleasantness or risk of drunk drivers, so we opted, instead, for a leisurely Chinese dinner at a friend's restaurant.

Christine Kwa is one of those very savvy restaurant owners who never forgets a face, a name or an anniversary. I've known a few of them over the years (although none as formidable or as gregarious as Jenny from Templestowe's legendary Flying Dragon).

Twenty-five years ago, when Christine opened her restaurant, our family members were amongst her first customers, and she's never forgotten. So when we arrived to find the place packed to the rafters, we expected to be turned away -- until Christine spotted us and came straight across to find us a table for two.

After a really enjoyable meal and even more enjoyable conversation with my youngest daughter, we decided to rent some DVDs and see the New Year in at home. I managed to stay awake for the first movie, but was woken by Esther at midnight for a kiss and a hug, and a barrage of fireworks from some neighbours. Five minutes later I was asleep in bed. I'd had a long day.

We woke late on Saturday and puddled around on our respective computers for a while, watched a movie together, then decided to spend the afternoon at the beach. The day, which had started out cool and overcast, was really lovely by early afternoon, and we chose Walkerville South as our destination.

Walkerville is something of a well-kept local secret. My father, who'd lived there for a couple of years as a youngster while his own father worked in the lime kilns that were the tiny township's reason for being, first took us there when I was about five, and I fell in love with its crystal-clear waters, sandy coves, caves, rock formations and islets, the cliffs, the sweep of the beaches clear around Waratah Bay to Wilson's Promontory on the Eastern side of the bay, the rainforests clinging to the hillsides that border this pristine part of the coast, and the jagged mountains of Wilson's Promontory, jutting out of Bass Strait at the southernmost tip of the Australian mainland. (Or, as the Tasmanians insist, the North Island!)

I even used it as the setting for my panto "Captain Lightning and the Smugglers" in 1976... a gross error of judgement that earned me the ire of some locals who felt that I had betrayed their secret.

The road into Walkerville South was always something of a trick. An unmarked dirt road, full of corrugations, it turned off the main tourist road through the area and seemed to go nowhere in particular... probably a farm track in the perceptions of most visitors. But little did they suspect that, just over the first rise, out of sight, a sealed road took those in the know (locals only) straight to the most delightful beaches and views in all of South Gippsland... a private haven in the midst of the #2 tourist destination in Australia after the Great Barrier Reef.

That was before Saturday.

I should have known something had changed when we arrived at the turnoff to find a sealed road and large signs pointing to Walkerville South and Cape Liptrap Lighthouse. If that weren't enough warning, the 4-wheel drives parked the length of the winding road down the cliff faces should have alerted us.

The beach wasn't packed, but it was full of people... and almost none of them locals.


Walkerville South beach, looking south toward the rocks and caves.

Still, we found a spot on the sand near the shrubs and bushes adjacent to the car park and had a kind of picnic, of fresh fruits and lollies, surrounded by seagulls hungry for anything edible.

Sitting on the beach, I noticed something from the corner of my eye and turned to see a tiny pair of Blue Wrens, male and female, hopping amongst the wildflowers on the tree-lined verge adjoning the sand (succulents bursting with water in their leaves and stems, with pale pink, purple and white blossoms that were attracting insects and, hence, the wrens.

I was astonished by their tameness. They hopped within inches of us, staring at us defiantly before hopping away in pursuit of their prey.

It was so unexpected, and so enchanting, that I sat watching them for about 45 minutes while Esther explored some nearby rocks and tidal pools. The water was glassy, as usual, in this protected corner at the south west entrance to Waratah Bay, which boasts almost fifteen miles of superb surf beaches further to the north and east.


Walkerville South beach, looking north toward the curve of Waratah Bay's magnificent surf beaches and pristine, rainforested hills that sweep down to the sandy beaches, like semi tropical wilderness.

We stopped off, on our way home, to see the lighthouse at Cape Liptrap, and to photograph Wilson's Promontory in the distance, its peaks highlighted by the low light of the late afternoon sun behind us. The photos weren't spectacular because of the summer haze, but I'll try to enhance them and get them on-line this week.

All told, it was a pleasant, lazy day spent in a truly beautiful part of my country, a world away from the tragedy unfolding in Asia. It was a time for reflection and counting of blessings.


Esther explores the rocks near the cave entrances, blocked by high tide for the moment.

I'm looking forward to this year. It will be marked by many changes for me, and for my family. Here's hoping that they're positive and pleasurable.

A happy, safe and prosperous 2005 to you, too. :)