It was a quiet week in.....................

Tomakin Bay, high 50's to low 60's and rainy. Most of the week was spent visiting with real Aussies, reading and watching Aussie TV (Much like American TV with really bewildering sports news and political issues never imagined in the states, like how to make sure the poor get proper dental care). A lot of time spent in the local Sportsman's club, a sort of gambling club for pensioners (honest, that's the word for us old farts) with good food at a very attractive price. Coffee, however cost just the same as beer. Sheaf Stout doesn't have any caffeine but tastes just fine. I'd wake up in the morning listening to the sounds of an old Tarzan movie. Honest, those sounds were taped in Australia. No mistaking the laugh of a Kookaburra.

The last day, it cleared up some, giving us a chance to see what we were missing. Glorious white sand beaches stretching for miles, high cliffs showing millions of years of stratification, beautiful birds, palm trees and unfamiliar flowers. Not to worry, our next stop would show us more of the same, only more so.

Friday the 9th we bid farewell to our very comfortable timeshare and headed a couple hundred kilometers (kilometres, in the local idiom) to Pam and George Gibbons, another of Liz's Affordable Travel Club contacts. Hell of a nice couple. George had spent 40 or so years as a commercial fisherman and hobby farmer up in Queensland before finally settling down in Mallacoota, on the southeast coast. Now the proud operator of a 110 year old cruise boat with a more than passing resemblance to the African Queen. He proudly recited the many powerplants that had shoved this fine hull over the lakes, from a hit-and-miss kerosene burning lump to its present 4 cylinder japanese diesel.  Pam had been a tennis star in her youth and ran the farm when George was gone fishing (most of the time). she now helps with the cruise boat which is scheduled according to their whim and the availability of tourists.

  On the way to Mallacoota, we'd stopped at the whalingmuseum in Eden. One hell of  a strange story there. Once upon a time in the mid to late 1800's, the people of the fine town managed to hunt whales without the benefit of ocean-going ships. The whales would pass close to shore on their way to and from the Antarctic. They were aided in this by a pack of killer whales who'd kick up a fuss just off the docks while the rest of the pack were herding the whales closer to shore. One of them - Old  Tom, would even pull the boats by way of a tow line to get them to the kill faster. Sometimes he'd even seize the harpoon line and help pull the whale in. All the elements of a tall tale, right? Old Tom died in 1930 and his carcass washed up on the shore of the harbor. They knew it was him by the wear on the teeth on the left side of his mouth from towing the whaleboats. They saved his skeleton and decided to open a museum in his honor. To add another element of strangeness to the story, no more packs of killer whales came to Eden ever again. That was the end of whaling in Eden.

Mallacoota is a nice quiet community with a seaside camping park capable of accomodating a tourist population larger by far than the resident one. Since we were there before the Christmas holidays, the town was open to us with no waits for anything. We understand that would not be the case in a couple of weeks. Again, miles of open beach backed by sheer cliffs full of wildlife. We saw our first kangaroos. Just out of town, on the golf course. And I thought geese were a nuisance! Imaging having to shoo a  dozen or so 4-to-6 foot hopping beasts off your ball. Later Pam and George took us to a horse farm where several dozen were grazing peacefully alongside the horses.  We also saw an amazing variety of birds, the names of which I have quite forgotten, many of the parrot family including larakeet and ghala. Amazing colors and calls. Finally found out what the kookaburra looks like. A surprisingly small bird for its big voice. Still haven't seen a wombat in the wild. Don't really expect to, residents count themselves lucky to see more than one a year except as roadkill.

We're now in Melbourne. I'm finally reconciled to driving on and from the wrong side. If only I could stop signalling with the windshield wiper. Still having fun watching Liz get in under the wheel and blinking in surprise. The drive here from Mallacoota was actually fun. Fine cattle country. Big pastures of long grass shading into almost-mountain hills. Lots of cattle, both beef and milk. An aside - the El Camino and Ranchero are not dead, they just relocated to Holden and Ford of Australia. Also there's a variant of the pickup known as a trayback, sort of a flatbed with low hinged sides and back and much more adaptable. Oh yes, Liz just reminded me; bodyshops are health clubs, you take your car to a panel-banger. Our first stay in a youth hostel, with several more to follow, including one in Alice Springs andanother in Cairns over Christmas. If they're all as nice as this one, no regrets. It's not nearly as cheap as Affordable Travel though it would be if one traveled as a single. Dorm-type beds run about $25 a night while private rooms for a couple cost about $80. Less than half the price of a hotel, even so. Just have to go down the hall to the rest room. We spent the day touring the city courtesy of a free city-circling tram, followed by a free guided tour of Federated Square (they're quite proud of it- roofed over the railyards and built several culture-related buildings in the resulting space) then got on a free tourist bus that covered the city in more detail that the tram. Not bad for the one full day we're here.