Two days ago I put together some statistics, principally for our own interest. We had been on the road for six weeks and so I believed that was long enough to arrive at some average figures. Some of those statistics were:
- We have travelled 3,006 kilometres, an average of 71.6 kms per day
- We have free camped 33% of the time.
- Camping fees average $100 per week.
- Fuel is averaging $125 per week.
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| The Opera House from The Bridge |
Today, over breakfast we poured over maps and brochures and made up hypothetical timetables and plans, and decided that we needed at least a fortnight here to fit everything in. So we are now booked and paid up for two weeks up to 28 March. Unfortunately we have to move from this particular site four days before we have to leave. We hummed and hawed about that, and then decided we would go to the bother because we do like this camp and its wonderful convenience.
It was not until mid morning that we headed out and took the train into the city. We disembarked at Milsons Point, on the north side of the harbour so that we could walk across the bridge again. The sun was shining and the harbour was glistening as it is famous for.
We stopped to chat with one of the security guards on the bridge and asked him what he was guarding, given that there are high barriers up above the walkway to deter would be jumpers. He said that just recently he had stopped a woman who had strong protective gloves on to protect her hands from the barbed wire that tops the barrier. “Why worry about your hands if you are going to drown yourself”, he asked. Yes, one may well ask. However given that she did not get to carry out her deadly plan, it was probably just as well her hands were saved from injury.
He also told us that a few years ago there were gangs of youths who used to target elderly tourists as they crossed the bridge toward the end of their walk, when they were flagging and wondering why they actually hadn’t taken the train or bus, and bash and rob them. The presence of the guards had cleaned up that problem.
We told him that he really must have the best office in town, although it perhaps wasn’t so pleasant on wet and windy days. He assured us that he wore good wet weather gear on such days so his job satisfaction was not reduced in such conditions.
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| The Oservatory |
We wished him well and walked on, secure in the knowledge that he and his colleagues were watching over us.
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| Our lunch spot near the Observatory |
Once across we found our way under the bridge and up to the Observatory from where there is a lovely view of the bridge and the harbour. We had our lunch under some huge fig trees and then visited the Observatory itself. Its museum style exhibits explain the construction of the building and those that worked there, along with astronomical matters, many of which go over my head. I did notice however that their explanatory notes had been updated to exclude Pluto from the planets of this solar system. I am embarrassed to confess that I only discovered this year that Pluto was no longer one of the nine planets of our sun, that we are only now eight except for another nebulous one that is under scrutiny and may be invited to join. Such is my ignorance of astronomical matters.
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| The time ball poised to drop |
At one o’clock on the dot, the ball was dropped from a pole above the observatory. It is one of the few left in the world of this old tradition. This was an important service for the ships in the harbour to check that their clocks were correct because time has much to do with the accuracy of navigation, latitude and longitude, especially in the days of sailing ship navigation. Again my simplification of this science reveals my ignorance of this subject also. We sat on a bench in the sun waiting for the ball to drop and then it did, right on time to coincide with the time on our cellphones. So… that was that.
After that excitement, we made our way back down to The Rocks, the old area of the waterfront that we had hurried through yesterday. We wandered at leisure and marvelled again at the old buildings and lanes, and the delightful way that bars and restaurants have been tucked into them in a very tasteful manner.
We walked on around past Circular Quay, sat and ate icecreams on the Captain Cook Tours wharf, and then wandered on around to the Opera House. Somewhere I have a photo of Helen and I at the Opera House in 1973. I am sure we did not climb all the steps, nor walk around the entire perimeter of the building, nor notice the glasslike surface of the building that is in fact tiles over concrete. It is quite a remarkable building. Chris recounted the fact that even while it was being built, the architects had no idea how they would achieve the end result. They did well and Sydney can be proud of this remarkable building and of course the Harbour Bridge. Sydney is a very beautiful city. I have always believed and said that Auckland is also, but it will never equal Sydney. A larger population and greater financial resources help, of course.
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| Back alleys filled with cafes and bars |
We went in to the bookings office to enquire about tickets for the opera. Carman is currently playing, however all its seats are booked out. We were however able to get tickets to Handel’s Partenope and so we will attend the opera at the Opera House on this coming Saturday. How exciting! We could have purchased tickets with partial views, but then if you are going to the opera and spending that much money, why not do it properly! Hence a budget blow out!
Chris fancied returning to camp on the bus rather than the train, and agreeing that we should try that mode of transport, we headed back up into the business centre of the city in search of the appropriate bus stop. After many stops, consulting of maps and discussions as to our pick up point, we arrived at the correct point, in front of the Queen Victoria Building. Unfortunately we were too tied up with our task of catching the right bus to investigate what this magnificent building really was or is; perhaps we shall find out another time. The helpful driver alerted us to the correct point of disembarkation, and we found our way back to the camp. I prefer the train.
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| A photo shoot caught in The Rocks |
On arrival back at the camp, after a coffee and a shower, I felt revived. We seem to have done a lot of walking today.
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| Opera House revisited after many decades |
After dinner, at 6.30 a couple of aboriginal guys, one much paler than the other, put on a wonderful show for the campers here in the park. They arrived in their car, parked close to our caravan, took off their clothes, put on a nappy type arrangement and painted their bodies with white ochre. One played a didgeridoo, both sang and danced, and explained all the dances and the workings of the didgeridoo. They are both school teachers in their day life and were interesting, informative and entertaining. The show lasted about three quarters of an hour and all who attended enjoyed it as we did, despite the rain that began to fall quite heavily toward the end.
As I said, what a wonderful day (again)!
We stopped to chat with one of the security guards on the bridge and asked him what he was guarding, given that there are high barriers up above the walkway to deter would be jumpers. He said that just recently he had stopped a woman who had strong protective gloves on to protect her hands from the barbed wire that tops the barrier. “Why worry about your hands if you are going to drown yourself”, he asked. Yes, one may well ask. However given that she did not get to carry out her deadly plan, it was probably just as well her hands were saved from injury.
He also told us that a few years ago there were gangs of youths who used to target elderly tourists as they crossed the bridge toward the end of their walk, when they were flagging and wondering why they actually hadn’t taken the train or bus, and bash and rob them. The presence of the guards had cleaned up that problem.
At one o’clock on the dot, the ball was dropped from a pole above the observatory. It is one of the few left in the world of this old tradition. This was an important service for the ships in the harbour to check that their clocks were correct because time has much to do with the accuracy of navigation, latitude and longitude, especially in the days of sailing ship navigation. Again my simplification of this science reveals my ignorance of this subject also. We sat on a bench in the sun waiting for the ball to drop and then it did, right on time to coincide with the time on our cellphones. So… that was that.
After that excitement, we made our way back down to The Rocks, the old area of the waterfront that we had hurried through yesterday. We wandered at leisure and marvelled again at the old buildings and lanes, and the delightful way that bars and restaurants have been tucked into them in a very tasteful manner.
Chris fancied returning to camp on the bus rather than the train, and agreeing that we should try that mode of transport, we headed back up into the business centre of the city in search of the appropriate bus stop. After many stops, consulting of maps and discussions as to our pick up point, we arrived at the correct point, in front of the Queen Victoria Building. Unfortunately we were too tied up with our task of catching the right bus to investigate what this magnificent building really was or is; perhaps we shall find out another time. The helpful driver alerted us to the correct point of disembarkation, and we found our way back to the camp. I prefer the train. 
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