Whiskey Papa in Oz

I made two trips to Australia, the first in 1977, four years after Sally and I married. I was stationed at NAS Lemoore and had pretty much decided that I would leave the Navy at the end of my enlistment in February '78. We left Dallas in the care of Scotty and Angela, stopped over in Hawaii (I already told you about that), then headed Down Under at 1 a.m. on my 29th birthday. It was a very short birthday; within an hour or two we had crossed the international dateline and today became tomorrow.

We landed for fuel in Auckland, New Zealand, which was a weird experience. We flew in low over emerald green hills scattering large herds of sheep on our approach to the airport. A beautiful sight and an excellent first impression of New Zealand. When the NZ passengers disembarked, the weirdness began. No welcome to New Zealand for us - we were just passing through. Instead, we sat there while they fumigated the plane. When the cloud dissipated, we were herded into a holding pen (okay, a waiting room) with benches and scattered chairs for those who weren't tired of sitting after a dozen hours on the plane. On the walls between each of the many windows were trout, mounted on plaques with notations on each fish's size and where it was taken. When the refueling was finally complete, we were herded back onto the plane and left to contemplate the error of our ways. Maybe next time we'd come to New Zealand and fish (or perhaps chase sheep) rather than just pass through. . .


We landed in Sydney and took the train to Sally's home in Wellington for Christmas with her family. We returned to Sydney with Rick and Gillian, then rented a car and drove: to Canberra, Australia's capital; through the Blue Mountains, where I heard about "the Man from Snowy River"; and on through the amazing countryside to Geelong, near the southern coast southwest of Melbourne. In spite of the damp, mostly gray weather, the sandstone (or perhaps limestone) cliffs, the arches and caves, and the crashing waves were marvelous.


This second shot, of "the Twelve apostles", is in the Bay of Martyrs. Don't bother counting them; I assumed the others were around the corner out of sight. Amy told me on her recent visit that most, if not all, of these pinnacles have since come crashing down, the victims of errosion. Reviewing pictures of the bay on the Internet, I believe the arch in the first picture has also crumbled.


The weather finally started to clear the next day as we passed through Melbourne to make our way up the East Coast. But first, we took a side trip to Phillip Island, southeast of Melbourne, where I saw this koala. I must say, koalas have enjoyed great PR. Up close, their fur is much more course and less cuddly than you might imagine. The way he clutched the branch of his gum tree was not so much "cute" as it was "sad". I couldn't escape the image of a derelict, surprised on awakening to find himself 20 feet up in a tree, wondering how he had gotten there.

We finished that trip with a long, beautiful drive up the coast highway to Sydney. We spent several days there with Sally's Aunt Joan, seeing the sights before flying back to California. We skipped New Zealand on the return trip, thank God, and refueled in Hawaii.


This picture was taken on my second visit to Oz. It is a view looking east from Mount Arthur across Sally's hometown of Wellington. At the time, Sally and the kids had been there for six months and I came over on vacation for a month. This time, we spent several days in town and I met many of the family's friends and acquaintances. Then we drove up to Casino, near the Queensland border, and dropped Sally's mother off to visit with her sister.

The four of us continued on to the Gold Coast, Brisbane, and followed the A1 north through Maryborough, Bundaberg, Mackay, and Townsville to Cairnes. We took day trips along the way to Fraser Island, the largest sand island in the world, a cruise out to the Whitsunday Islands, and another to Green Island and the Great Barrier Reef. We visited Port Douglas and took a terrific tour of the lower Daintree rainforest, looking for saltwater crocodiles. We came back to Casino via Carnarvon National Park, Toowoomba, Warwick, and Killarney, and took Gillian (with food poisoning) to the doctor in Lismore, visited Byron Bay, picked up Betty, then made our way back to Wellington.


Since Gillian was still recovering, I said my goodbyes in Wellington and took the train back to Sydney. I stayed a few more days with Aunt Joan, taking the ferry or the hydrofoil into the city each day from Manly. I revisited several places Sally and I had seen my first visit, and added a few more before flying back to Fort Worth. The picture above is, of course, the Sydney Harbor Bridge, taken from the southwest corner in a beautiful area called "the Rocks". It was a great trip. . . but Sally got the pictures.