I would like it to be noted that a hiker has been hospitalised in Ireland after being hit by a falling sheep.  Now, if anyone has any comments about how “dangerous” my antics are, I refer you back to the previous sentence.  Also, there are no sheep on the Glasshouses so I feel relatively safe.

There are, however, plenty of ill prepared tourists and loose rocks, which coupled together could potentially be more hazardous than sheep.  I try to avoid climbing at weekends so as to mitigate this risk.

Last night, we climbed up Beerwah for sunset and boy, was it a sunset.  I took some nice photos and a time lapse of the sun actually setting, and we made good time both up and down.  It is actually quite safe and easy to descend in the darkness with the help of a good headtorch.

Next time, I am going to climb Tibro for sunset.

Tragically, a young hiker died on Tibro last week, having climbed too late, unprepared, and strayed off track on the descent and then fallen off a cliff.  A girl was rescued just this past weekend who found herself in a similar quandary - but thankfully called for help before getting in worse trouble.  Apparently there have been 160 rescues from the Glasshouses over the last year which is a pretty crazy and expensive statistic, seeing that a lot of them involve vertical rescue crews and helicopters.  

In my backpack, I have a first aid kid, head torch (and last night a spare headtorch AND spare batteries), two bottles of water, energy bars (or bananas), and sunscreen.  I always recommend to other people climbing that they carry this, and I always recommend never going up without somebody who has done it before.  The number of people I have helped off Beerwah and Tibro is quite high - and these are all beginners / tourists.  

The problem is that if these statistics keep rising, the likelihood is that these mountains will be closed to the public, which would be ever so sad.  They aren’t dangerous, if treated with the respect they both deserve and demand.  

And if the mountains are closed, how will we be able to bathe in sunsets such as these? 

Cinderella

Last night I took a friend to the ballet for her birthday. A slightly late birthday present due to rosters and nothing being on, but we got there in the end.  Cinderella is only playing for a week, and we went on Opening Night.  

K wanted me to wear a dress but as I didn’t feel comfortable I said no (that’s the kind of friend I am) and settled on “jeans and a nice top.”  I was going to push the boat out and wear my nice boots but when I got them out of the cupboard they disintegrated in my hands.

Here’s the thing: it’s hard to dress up on occasion when you never ordinarily dress up.  Let’s face it, I wear a combination of uniform, work out gear, and pyjamas, and sometimes two out of three at once.  There’s not really space in my busy schedule for more.  If I’m not flying, I’m on a mountain, and if I’m not on a mountain, I’m probably in bed.  So my boots, nice that they were, once upon a time, had sat in that cupboard for the last year or two, gently rotting.

Having come to the conclusion that I couldn’t wear boots that were literally flaking apart in my hands, I had to turn to my reliable Converse.  Except, even they weren’t Converse, being a €7 Primark knockoff.  I know, I’m a terrible person, but needs must.  High heels (the one pair that I own) weren’t going to match my jeans, and also I can’t walk in heels so there was no way I was going to actually make it to the theatre that way.  RM Williams or Approach Shoes?  No problem, kind sir.

I’m going shoe shopping today.  (Too little, too late?) 

Anyway... having settled on the Converse I figured I’d jazz it up a bit and wore make up and hoopy earrings and a bracelet and painted my hair pink at the front because, you know, if you aren’t trying 100% why are you here at all?  And left the house in plenty of time to pick up K, who lives down the street from me, and across the bridge from the train station.

She wasn’t ready.

In fact, she wasn’t even dressed.  And I was looking at my watch realising the train was leaving in 6 minutes and freaking the very *^%< out.  

It does my anxiety no good at all when something is completely and utterly out of my control.

I made a lot of loud noises and a lot of “hurry up we need to go NOW” and dragged her kicking and screaming from the house (Slight exaggeration?  Poetic license?) and drove at 90kmh over the 60kmh overpass because the train was leaving in 3 minutes, and as we parked in the carpark we saw the train coming over the hill.  Cue a mad run to the the station and over the bridge and swiping my “Go Card” on the run without even checking to see if it worked, because I wasn’t missing that train for anyone.  And we got on board, and K said “but if we missed the train I could’ve driven us so it didn’t matter” and my anxiety almost strangled her with its bare hands on the spot.

But thankfully my anxiety remained inside my body and breathed a little and managed to calm down and enjoy the rest of the evening.

We obviously weren’t allowed to take photos during the performance

And while we are talking about the rest of the evening, let’s talk about the Ballet.  I really enjoyed the Nutcracker a couple of years ago and thought Cinderella would be the same: but I forgot that there’s very little in the story of Cinderella.  Here we go:

Cinderella’s daddy marries an evil woman with two ugly daughters, and all three Nasty Females bully Cinderella and her daddy doesn’t stick up for her.  A fairy godmother / queen / witch / something turns up and Cinderella is nice to her but the others are not.  A prince throws a ball and the Ugly Stepsisters attend and Cinderella is not invited.  The fairy godmother turns mice and pumpkins and things into a carriage and Cinderella goes to the ball, but she must leave by midnight.  She only just gets away in time but drops a glass slipper (really? Glass?  I can’t even look after pleather properly) and the prince goes around the houses afterwards trying to fit it on people (because he didn’t spend much time looking at her face?  Typical male.).  Cinderella eventually tries the shoe on, it fits, and he realises that she is the one.  The End.

How long did it take you to read that?  Now imagine it told through ballet, with no talking.  Well, there was no talking in the description either, so that’s ok.  The Ugly Stepsisters were well done and funny, the ballet part was fine too, but it was neither exhilarating nor breathtaking.  There was nothing in the performance that said Wow.  Nothing particularly memorable, and I’m sorry, but it needed that.  They danced well, and yet was it with heart and soul?  We are only talking about Cinderella, of course, maybe that doesn’t demand more.  But it did therefore mean that I left with my heart and soul intact, and indeed feeling for the last half hour or so that I would prefer to be asleep in bed.

Once home, I remembered why I don’t usually wear makeup (how do you Real Females get the stuff off) and have probably left a ridiculous amount of pink on my pillow despite attempts to clean my hair.

It was an enjoyable evening out, and I’m not complaining, I’m just glad I don’t make an effort very often.  Maybe I need some Classy Friends to teach me Class, or maybe it’s just better on the top of a mountain - where I’m not, as it’s raining, so I started reading the FCOM instead, but then got distracted by this blog.

You’re welcome.

Happy Days

This job only gets better!  I have been to so many new places this month, and all across the country, even overnighting in Perth and flying to Broome.  I have met Interesting People in business class, and had time to stop and smell the roses.  I’ve climbed mountain after mountain and seen more of Australia from above than I ever hoped to see.

Yesterday, I got called in to go to Hamilton Island to ferry an aircraft out, and I leapt at the chance.  Now that I’m back in Canberra (where we ferried it), it is -1C currently and I am missing the tropical sunshine and beaches we momentarily encountered.

The moment you step foot outside the terminal you are at the water, the ferries dock here and the only road transport is by golf cart.  I wanted to go explore, but apparently we were there to work.  

The actual runway is built into the bay, with vividly blue water stretching into infinity.

The hill is where most of the holiday homes are, and where I wish I were right now.  

We had to wait a couple of hours for the engineer to fix our aircraft, but we didn’t have time to visit the island as we had planning and ballast to arrange.  And of course, they didn’t have any ballast.  The solution?  Send the boys down to the beach with shovels and hessian sacks, and fill ‘me up with 400kg of sand.  Yep.  I asked if they had any buckets and spades so we could pretend to have a beach on board on the flight home, but unfortunately they were all out.

And then of course, flying home we had another sunset all to ourselves.

From 37,000’ you can even see the gentle curvature of the earth.  

This, this is why I do it.  I’ve found my passion again and nothing so far has managed to wipe the smile off my face.  

Checked and Climbing

The blog has become slightly abandoned.  I blame this on work, climbing, Lily, and a general lack of interest/motivation.

Most importantly, the small Floof is okay, despite two vet visits, multiple broken nights, and two lots of antibiotics.  (& $1000). She also has a big shaved patch from the scans they did, which makes her look rather silly.  And Ceri brought me Sambuca from Auckland so here is a picture of Lily, her shaved patch, and my Sambuca.

No dogs were harmed in the taking of this photo.

No Sambuca was drunk either, as I went to work shortly after.

Which brings us to the topic of work!  My check was on Monday and Tuesday - it has to be four sectors for a check to line at this company, so it is usually broken over two days.  I did an Adelaide return on the first day and a Townsville return on the second day.  I did make a few silly mistakes, as one does on a check, but in general it went really well.  I astounded the checkie with ridiculous levels of knowledge... as I had a fair idea what he was going to ask, I went into - ridiculously - high levels of information, and he got frustrated pretty fast and stopped asking me questions. An example of this, when asked a memory item, would be to add that the QRH had nine dots between “FLASHING cargo smoke agent 1 discharge switch” and “PUSH”.  Like I said, ridiculous 😜.  (It worked)

The very first day after my check I got called off reserve to go to Canberra and that was almost scarier than the check.  My very first line flight!  Once there, it actually went really well - very relaxed and good fun, so now I have new courage to continue...

I have just been called off reserve again today, so that’s two for three this week with one more reserve tomorrow.  I guess it’s true that once you’re checked to line they suddenly need you!

I’ve still been trying to fit some climbs in around work.  Having been on lates for the last few weeks, I’ve been climbing in the morning before work.  It was strange this week climbing Coochin without Lily, as she was at the vet’s, so mainly I’ve been doing non-dog friendly climbs like Beerwah.  In fact, tomorrow morning I have a sunrise East Beerwah planned, as my reserve starts at 8 so that should have me home by then.

I found a very small shiny lizard on Beerwah yesterday that T surrounded with his hands to prevent it getting away while I took a photo.

That’s about all I’ve got... although hopefully tomorrow I will have some nice sunrise photos!  I do have some work photos... but I can’t post them publicly.  

An overdue blog

It’s about time I blogged.

It is also very cold in Canberra.  I didn’t attempt to go outside until 10am in a bid for it to warm up, but it was still about 10 degrees and gusting 30 kts for my walk up Mount Ainslie.

I took the obligatory photo looking down on the war memorial and Parliament House, and of course one of the airport in the distance.

It was about a 9k round trip from the airport although only an elevation gain of 280m.  It was, however, made a lot worse by choosing to set out immediately after a breakfast of milky coffee and a bacon and egg sandwich, so I had the most terrible stitch for most of the ascent.  Not cool.  I had intended on a fast pace but the combination of a very late night and the stitch made it quite a slow walk.  At least I did it, right?

This afternoon, all we have to do is fly back to Brisbane, which is a lot more friendly than yesterday’s Adelaide and Canberra totally 7.1 hours’ flying!  Then tomorrow morning I plan to climb Beerwah before work.  We end up in Cairns tomorrow night - that will be a lot more pleasant temperature wise.

Flying is actually really fun at the moment.  I get on extremely well with my trainer, and am loving the 717.  If anything, it all seems too easy, and I seem to be like waiting for it to get harder... but it doesn’t.  My final check is on Monday and Tuesday next week with an Adelaide return followed by a Townsville return.

And other than climbing things and flying, I don’t really have much to report.  Lily is at her fluffiest ever...

... and is still loving hiking with me!  I wish I could take her everywhere, but the mountain in the left background of this photo is not safe for a small dog.

That’s me for now... ciao! 

Like father, like daughter

Is it possible to be TOO much like my father?  I hope not, because I like it.  My mother sometimes says that one day I will “grow up” and like foods that Dad dislikes, and in some ways I have.  I eat olives, have a healthy appreciation of steak... but I still abhor things like seafood and boiled eggs.  Sorry, Mum, but you can’t cure me completely.

In other things, though, it’s strange to think how like my father I am.  He posted on his blog about gyms and CrossFit, and I completely agree.  There are few places  where I am happier than in the outdoors - hiking somewhere remote or up on top of a mountain - and gyms are repulsive.  I have tried them: I signed up once for a 6 month membership; I went for two weeks and never returned.  I tried CrossFit once; I climbed ropes and ran intervals and never returned.  I climbed a mountain once... and since then I’ve barely stopped.

I do however like watching rugby.  Real rugby that is, rugby union, not the lame rugby league they like in this country.  That’s not a real game.  Sorry, Dad, but rugby is awesome!

I was night flying the other night, and the stars were so bright and close, and the Milky Way was vividly clear. I was remembering all the times I’ve walked at night time with my father, arm in arm, gazing at the stars.  Sometimes we talked and sometimes we didn’t, and all was well with the world.  And most of me felt I would keep that memory just for me, but I’ve decided now to share it.  Because, I do think I am like my father.

There is something about climbing a mountain and sitting on the rocks to watch a sunset.

There is something about rising before dawn and climbing in the dark to watch the sun raise its head above the horizon.

Seeing the very first glimmers of light on an early morning.

Getting up early to watch the sun rise over the water, with nobody else around to see.

At my house I wake around 6, most days, if I’m not working, and I think I enjoy those two hours or so the best, the hours before anyone else is awake.  Even C, who wakes relatively early, isn’t up then, and I can sit alone, and do, alone, things that I want to do.

I don’t understand how people can spend their entire mornings in bed: but it actually works out very well for me - as people out of the way are fewer people for me to have to deal with!

Coochin

One time!  One time I take pity on the child and take her up Coochin instead of going alone to Tibrogargan. Okay, well my climbing buddy pulled out of Tibro and with a slight chance of rain I decided not to climb alone, just in case.

Instead, I ended up with this:

It’s very happy with itself

Or at least it was

The contentment of a dog in mud

The contentment of a dog who knows I love it, or at least I love that I remembered to bring a towel 

Except now it’s not so happy because I bathed it and despite the blankets, it is shivering its little self off.