#from the last time I was in Wales and wild camping with my friends :')

[hairtusk]

Cwm Penmachno, Cymru (2018)

[holisticpassport]

My Covid Story

Apologies for any spelling errors, I’m on a time crunch. I’m a few hours out from leaving for my first flight since July 2019 (and before that, March 2018). Heading out to Sydney, I’m a mix of anxiety and absolute excitement. In January of this year, our sublet was almost up in Eltham and Cam and I had plans to pack up the car and begin doing workaways around Australia to help rebuild communities devastated by the historic wild fires (doesn’t that feel FOREVER ago?). When our sublet became available for a full lease transfer, we changed our minds to stay in our space, so that was the first instance of travel being knocked out of the picture. Then we had Valentine’s weekend open to go visit some friends in Tasmania, so we booked tickets and upon waiting in the airport, our flights were cancelled due to inclement weather. DAMN.  Mid-march came around and it was Cam’s birthday, so we wanted to get out for a weekend of camping in our big bell tent, find a gorgeous spot in the woods out east near Warburton. When we arrived, every camping spot for an hour’s dive any direction was either full or completely not open at all. We picked a spot off a random road and spent one night there, but some rangers came by and said we couldn’t stay there due to the possible danger of logging trucks not seeing us. So that was a bust.

Then as you’re aware, this time frame leads up to the very tumultuous third week of March when Melbourne officially went into its first lockdown due to COVID. I documented this time in journal entries which I will add at the end, but ultimately the lockdown went until June, and the state reopened too quickly/had a fiasco with quarantined cases getting out of a hotel, thus sparking the second wave. We had flights booked to California for June to see my family and then planned to travel around Mexico for a few months, but that dream was quickly squashed when flights out of Melbourne ceased to exist at all. Months later, I had a flight booked in July to go to Sydney where I was to have my eggs extracted for donation. The day before I was to fly out, second lockdown went into effect and the flight was cancelled (thus forcing me to have the procedure done in Melbourne and cause a huge, historic controversy between Melbourne IVF’s CEO and the medical director of IVF Australia about how to transfer frozen eggs over a closed border!).

I’m struggling to comprehend just how important and meaningful my ability to travel today is. To think back to the first time in history, watching borders around the world close, flights become grounded, and witnessing a global pandemic unfold whilst in a foreign country—I remember thinking at the beginning how unfathomable the scale of it was. When people talk about things not seeming real or like it’s a dream you can’t wake up from, that’s exactly how it felt. I questioned whether I needed to go back to the U.S. in fear I might not see my family for years or be with them if they got fatally ill. Would I be able to even go back if that happened let alone would I be able to re-enter AU (the answer was no). And thank god I didn’t go back considering the absolute cluster fuck of a mess Trump made of the pandemic. But also, thank god my family has been healthy and safe. The level of fear for their safety was at an all-time high as civil tensions grew when the riots around the country kicked off in conjunction with the pandemic. I wrote to all of them to have a plan to escape to Mexico and get their passports if Trump won the re-election. This was a genuine fear I’ve never experienced before.

The level of frustration, depression, anxiety, hopelessness, self-hatred for lack of productivity during lockdown, and uncertainty about so many facets of life weighed down on me during this time. But I know how much worse our time could have been. I was immensely grateful for the fact that we had a home and incredibly gracious landlords who were human and understood the financial difficulties of this unprecedented time when so many became homeless as job loss skyrocketed. We were so fortunate that I was able to continue working even 2 days a week through the lockdown as a barista and Cam was able to get government support for six months as a NZ citizen who lived in AU over 10 years when so many other New Zealanders were forced to return to their country because of the time limit stipulation for support. We only had two family members contract Covid and were young and healthy enough to survive when so many families will be without a member at the holidays this year.

And I acknowledge my privilege in that my identity is so closely entwined with the ability to travel, that while it felt suffocating to not even have the choice to travel anywhere outside of a 5km (3mile) zone, I fully empathize with those in parts of the world where they could not walk more than 50 meters from their front door or people who didn’t have windows/balconies in apartment buildings who were going out of their mind. All of that does not diminish the struggles I faced with not being able to travel, but it does always keep my perspective in check. My trip today signifies how a city and a country came together during the most difficult period of our lifetime, followed strict government guidelines, and came out after 120+ days in full lockdown on the other side of a pandemic, now able to cross state borders without isolation or quarantine. To go to a live music show,  have drinks on rooftop bars, walk around outside without a mask on, and see people going about their daily lives again on public transport and see a city bustling with energy—the months of mental hardship and growth was all to get back to a post-Covid world. Even though a vaccine is not out yet and we need to be cautious, the level of hopelessness has diminished significantly, and I’m not terrified my trip might be cancelled in two hours. I’m actually going this time!

There is also a whole other facet to my time in lockdown and that of course is the personal development and mutual growth in my marriage! That’s a whole separate post though which I hope to get out soonish. But here’s a bit of something I started a few months ago. Enjoy.

 ********

I remember when it first started in the news; like a minor blip of a story flashing at the bottom of the screen: some mutant virus had infected a couple dozen people in some random city in China. I was working solo in a café serving the employees of a major shoe distribution company in the warehouse district of Collingwood, Melbourne. The TV was on in the cafe but muted the first few weeks of January as the main stories were about the most devastating wildfires in the history of the world, and we all just felt a communal helplessness. As the numbers grew in China and the story became a daily headline, the first case was announced in Queensland on January 25th. Everyone stuck around a few minutes longer each day after they were handed their coffee. I think back to the moment when Wuhan, the epicenter at the time, reported 1,500 cases and I thought surely there can’t be much more than that. This is just media sensationalizing something small. This whole story will blow over in another week or two.

If only.

It was summer in Australia, and my husband and I were planning what to do after our sublease was up in mid-March. I commuted daily from a suburb 50 minutes north called Eltham, a creative and eco-friendly heritage town. We lived in a triplex made of adobe mudbrick, surrounded by native forest, a communal garden, and enjoyed huge artisan windows that brought in natural filtered light through the towering trees. Our little studio was a quiet haven away from the chaos and constant flurry of people in Melbourne, especially during summer as it brought travelers from every corner of the globe. There was no way we could have possibly known that this little paradise would feel like a prison after six months in the world’s longest lockdown due to a global pandemic caused by that little virus in some random city in China now known worldwide as COVID-19.

As the weeks passed by in February, more and more countries began reporting cases. I did not understand how pandemics worked as the last one I was alive for and could remember was H1N1 in California, and I was about 17—far too consumed with college applications and boys to think about world affairs. The Spanish Flu was never something that was particularly emphasized in our history classes, so it didn’t even occur to me to compare what was happening now to that point in time. Then again, this was incomparable because in 1912, the world was a less globalized economy and there were no commercial flights transporting thousands of passengers across the globe daily. By the first week of March, my daily rush-hour commutes became the first real difference I noticed. The number of morning passengers on the train platforms dwindled from 50 to 25 to 5, and eventually, to just me. As the train stopped at over 30 stops from where I lived to the city, my carriage wasn’t even remotely full at 7 a.m.

There was less foot traffic in the city. Flinders Street Station, one of the two largest hubs that saw thousands of people daily, was eerily quiet and empty. We were two weeks out from leaving Melbourne to go travel, planning to go to New South Wales, AU to help rebuild communities that were ravaged by the bushfires. I was desperate to travel this year, and we were so close to leaving. I had picked up some other barista work in an advertising agency closer to the city. But day by day, office workers were being told to work from home if they were able to. Hand sanitizer became readily available in the café, bathrooms, and around the office. I remember staring out the window of this high rise building that overlooked the lush green stretch of Albert Park and thinking it looks so normal outside. Every day, I looked at the news in Australia, which I had never really done before. Industries were shutting down, and the panic was setting in for thousands of casual workers in the hospitality industry as it was only a matter of time before we would be shut down too.

Melbourne is a cultural hub filled with travelers who typically come here on a Work and Holiday Visa which gives them 1-2 years to work and live in AU. Most find work in hospitality as there are over 40,000 restaurants and cafes in this region. You couldn’t go a single day without meeting someone from another country which is why I fell in love with this city. I worked as a freelance barista through agencies that called for workers to be able to step in if someone called out sick or quit unexpectedly and they found themselves short. But my agencies had gone completely silent in the week leading up to the industry shutting down. There was no more work and travelers were finding themselves stranded. I journaled daily in the lead up to my final day of work in the city as I knew something big was happening, and I wanted to be able to recall when it all began. I also knew we would not be travelling anytime soon, around Australia or otherwise, when national and international borders began closing around the world.

 March 17th, 2020

All that’s being talked about is COVID-19. Entire countries are closing borders and going into complete lockdown. Italy has been inundated with patients in hospitals and now have to choose who lives and who dies. AU isn’t taking nearly as intense of measures, but the general atmosphere is not normal. All events with over 500 people have been cancelled. Those who have traveled anywhere must self-quarantine for 14 days or face a huge fine. Some people still don’t take it seriously, thinking/acting like it’s just a normal flu when in reality its ability to be passed on and even re-infect someone a second time is much higher than the rate of a simple flu. In the states, my family says all the restaurants and schools have closed, even the Hollywood entertainment industry has closed down. So many independent contractors, myself included, are without means to live because there’s no emergency government funding in place. It shows what’s truly flawed with the system. Luckily Cam has full time work still, but for those people who have kids and no daycare options? No partner or family? Those who are traveling and can’t get back home? This is devastating for all of us, but them in particular. Supposedly, there are rumors that the virus dies with the warm weather, but AU is headed into winter. It could be why the virus isn’t as big in places like South America and Africa (*note* countries from these two continents are now in the top 10 most infected places as of September 2020) Europe is completely shut down as is New Zealand. I have flights to California in June, so I’m hoping I can still go. For how weak my immune system is, I’m surprised I’m not more concerned because I’ve been continuously reassured the virus only attacks those with underlying conditions, mainly in the elderly population. Even in calm, tight-knitted communities like ours in Eltham, we’re seeing the best and worst of humanity come out with people hoarding resources, but also there are those offering rides for people to stores or grocery drop offs to their homes. I’m very interested to see how the next three months progress all around the world. Right about now, it’d be nice to hide away in a beachside house in Mexico. (*Mexico is also among the top 10 most infected countries now*)

March18th, 2020

The government should announce today whether hospitality industry will close, potentially putting Cam and I both out of jobs. Luckily our landlord is being highly accommodating. Trump is giving Americans $1,200 and has postponed tax season by 3 months. Only seems he does something decent when it’s to keep the economy from tanking and his money is protected.

Cam and I both have throat annoyances and headaches. We should try to stay home, but can’t afford it. Today, they’ve dropped gatherings of 500 down to only 100 people, yet shopping centers and public transport remain open, which I would think are the riskiest places for transferring infections. It’s been stated this is a once in a decade event that will change the course of history.

 March 19th, 2020

Amidst all the chaos from morning to night, people are finally taking time to nurture their interests and creativity. I’m taking two courses on sustainable fashion and fashion in design. I’ve also applied to be a mentor for women trying to gain work and leadership experience at an NGO called Fitted for Work. They have stylists that help women to prepare business outfits and tailor their resumes/do mock interviews. I’ve looked into an MA program I’m interested in at Warren Wilson College back in North Carolina. I think looking forward is the only way to keep the fear down about how long these shut downs may last possibly through June. The world economy is going to see some extremely confronting realities it hasn’t seen since the Great Depression. For the moment I’m looking into teaching English online which I’m already certified to do, just to try and earn some money. I’ll be interested to see all the art that comes out of this period and the photojournalism that captures this historic time.

 March 21st, 2020

We went over to Williamstown (Cam’s parent’s house) as Cam had two shifts out that way. Restrictions in cafes are now 1 person per 4 square meters, so in the 100 person limit already imposed, it’s now down to 25. I’m nervous for Cam to keep working and going on public transport. It’s high risk and unethical in terms of coming in contact with people we could transmit it to without knowing (asymptomatic) because it takes 14 days to even show symptoms. We made the choice to start self-isolation come Monday as we can see in the next week or two the same spike will be here in Melbourne as we’ve seen in Italy and most likely soon to see in the U.S. Reading other peoples’ accounts about how they continued life as normal as though nothing had changed in Italy is exactly where AU is projected to head towards.

 March 25, 2020

As of Monday, AU took drastic measures to ensure safety and closed many non-essential businesses with a series of daily updates for more and more businesses to shut or only stay open for takeaway. Overnight, nearly 80,000 people in hospitality work were laid off or lost work, Cam and I included. A stimulus package of 66 billion dollars was announced and Cam qualified for government payments through Centrelink because he’s a kiwi who’s been here over 10 years. Other kiwis who haven’t been here that long are completely without any kind of support from the AU government, even though in NZ, Aussies are supported. A very backward, selfish system who told them to go home.

We went to Centrelink on Monday at 7:45am in Greensborough (suburb over from Eltham). By 8:30 am when the doors opened there were over 200 people in line. The government has been terribly confusing with their messages out to the public, highly unprepared. People are confused about what they can and can’t do, what businesses are remaining open, who is eligible… it’s a mess. Why are liquor stores and hair salons considered essential?? There have been spikes in young people getting this virus as young as 18, and they are dying. The virus coats your lungs like a jelly ultimately blocking oxygen. We did what is hopefully our last grocery shop because being in the store is just as contagious as a café. There’s no safety or hygiene measures in place. We had gloves on and people were dancing around each other in the aisles to maintain 1.5m social distance.

The U.S. is becoming the new epicenter with horrific rapid spreading, particularly in New York. Flight around the world, including as of today AU, are being stopped and we can no longer leave the country at all.

  To Be Continued…..

[cheekytorah]

Thank you for always submitting the most creative prompts! You always get my fluffy gears turning. 💛

This too me so long to respond to because I was trying to make something for you for christmas because you are one of my favourite followers, always liking and sharing always commenting and dropping me asks ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for always finding the time to write my prompts (even though I leave you so many lol) and promising to write the rest. It means a lot!

So Happy Holidays/Christmas/New years etc etc 💋

In my effort to finish this for you I failed to find a Beta so I’m sorry it’s a bit rough.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sirius felt himself return to consciousness. The images of warm calloused hands, bright, happy camp-fires and sweat slicked bodies were immediately replaced with a sudden need to vomit and fear that his skull was moments from cracking in half, exploding from pain.

He stood up and dashed for a bush, expelled the contents of his stomach-albeit not much-and groaned in agony. He looked around at two of his best mates, in similar hell, and smiled slightly till he had to close his eyes to block out the excruciating sun. Misery does love company, after all.

Eyes closed, the warm darkness brought on a cascade of memories from the night before. Dancing around a fire in their pants, like a trio of idiots-thanks Prongs. Drinking vermouth to begin with-thanks Wormtail. Vanishing tents because how else would they be real men-yeah that one was Sirius, of course.

Then a memory of James voice encouraging him to-no he wouldn’t.

“Prongs, did you let me drunk call people last night?”

James moaned in response.

“No,” Sirius gasped. He felt panicked as memories of yelling into his phone some weird song that involved butchering Remus’ name assaulted his mind. “Did you tell me to call Moony last night?”

“I may have mentioned the merit in a drunken confession.”

Sirius stomach dropped out.

“I would like it on record that I was completely against it,” Peter interjected.

“Oh fuck,” Sirius groaned and laid down on the grass.

Why was it always fucking him?

James crawled on hands and knees and curled in a ball beside Sirius, flinching under his murderous glare.

“I’m sorry. Maybe we should turn our phones off before a night of drinking.”

“I’m never drinking again, look where it gets me. I think- fuck Prongs-I left him a voicemail where I waxed poetic about his hands! HIS FUCKING HANDS!”

“That I don’t remember,” James chuckled, but then winced when Sirius punched his shoulder.

“He probably hasn’t even heard it yet,” Peter said thoughtfully. “He did text me earlier to say his phone was going to die and he’d forgotten his charger. Wouldn’t have one till he got home tomorrow morning.”

Sirius looked up hopefully. Maybe they could, oh but it would never work, they’d have to get to Wales and none of them could apparate in their state. They’d also have to somehow manage to steal Remus’ phone without him seeing, get it back to London-

“We can do it,” James nodded, recognizing the look on Sirius’ face. “Just let me die here for a little bit and we’ll get to the car.”

They drove through to the afternoon, arriving at the Lupin’s cottage in a few short hours. Lyall answered the door but after a disgusted sniff, scowled at the boys and told them Hope and Remus had ventured out to a cousins in London. He quickly slammed the door shut in Sirius’ face and they were once again on the road.

“I swear to Merlin, James, if this ends badly,” Sirius warned.

“Look, if anything you can claim it was a prank gone wrong. Alcohol distorting the point of the prank, and I don’t know, making it more confusing.”

“Oh sure, that will go really well,” Peter rolled his eyes.

“Or, you could just tell him it was all true and then snog his face off,” James teased.

“Remus doesn’t feel like that about me,” Sirius gripped the steering wheel and glared at the road. “You think I would keep this secret for all these years if I wasn’t damn certain the truth would ruin our friendship?”

He cursed under his breath. He had made a move on Remus’ about 10 years ago, laying on their backs at the top of the astronomy tower in sixth year. He had kissed him, and Remus had pushed him away and told him not to confuse things. It was pretty clear then that Remus didn’t want him.

“I don’t get it,” James shook his head. “You could have any bloke you wanted, I see them throwing themselves at you. When was the last time you even went on a date?”

Sirius was about to object, that he went out with plenty of men, but he wasn’t sure they’d agree that one offs in the loo of a dirty pub once every few months really counted.

“Over a year ago,” Peter supplied.

“Not all of us can be with the person they are in love with, settle down and have a bloody family by the time they are twenty-one,” Sirius snarled. “And you,” he pointed at Peter through the rear view mirror. “You are not allowed to have an opinion on my relationship status when you don’t date at all.”

“I’m aro,” Peter shrugged.

“And I’m bloody serious, so both of you lay off me.”

Sirius muttered mockeries under his breath. He turned down a dead-end street as the sun began to disappear behind the trees.

~*~

“Merlin’s saggy balls!” Sirius booted the tire of James father’s car in frustration. “How do we even find him?”

They had knocked on the door and a couple cute young college kids answered the door. Not an extension of the Lupin family, and had no idea who Remus or Hope even were.

“How did Lyall give us the wrong address? Shouldn’t he know where his own family lives?” James asked, similarly discouraged.

”Lyall Lupin doesn't even like his own son, why would he care about a cousin?” Peter said absently.

”Plan B, Padfoot,” James said slowly. “Prank gone wrong. It’s believable.”

“Honestly, you should just tell him the truth,” Peter rolled his eyes. “He won’t stop being your friend, you know him better than that.”

Sirius dug his hands in his pockets and glared at the ground. Why did this have to happen. Why did he have to drink so much. Why did he have to confess his undying love to Remus?

“Well, I’m out of options, so just remember I want my casket in red oak, not that cheap shit. I know your parents are loaded so don’t hold out on me,” Sirius grinned at James but his smile quickly faded and he groaned.

Sirius kept glancing at his phone, no new calls, or texts. Obviously Remus hadn’t heard the voicemail—yet, because he wasn’t being bombarded with questions or apologies or—what he wanted most—returned affections. He knew that was an impossibility.

James took the drivers seat again and they set off on their trip back to London. Peter was snoring in the back and James was humming along with the radio. Harry and Lily would be sleeping when he had finally dropped them off and slipped into their cottage in Godric’s Hollow, so they had stopped for some take out and pulled up outside an old skate park.

“Why do you think Remus doesn’t like you back?”

“I tried to kiss him once, back when I first realized I was gay—like super gay—he pushed me away. Told me he didn’t want me to ruin things when I was finally earning back his trust.”

“Can you blame him? After what you did-”

“Of course not, but if he had felt something for me, he would have said something back then.”

James made a noncommittal noise and went back to his curry.

“Blimey, this stuff is garbage,” he complained and Sirius smirked.

“Nothing beats your mums,” Sirius chuckled.

James nods as they drive off towards Sirius’ flat. When they pull up Peter is awake and slides into the passenger seat. They both wave and Sirius slips into the building. When he’s in the safety of his bed he lets all his doubts cloud around him, attacking him with anxiety and gloom. Was he going to wake up and lose Remus forever. Had he already lost him and just didn't know it yet

~*~

Of course his dreams were affected by his uncertainty. Words of harsh rejection yelled at him in Remus’ pitch. It was as if he was drowning in ‘let’s just be friends’,‘I can’t even look at you’ and ‘you disgust me’. He was covered in a cold sweat and he felt sick. He was overreacting, he told himself, but the fear of losing one of his most important people terrified him.

It was half-past eight when he knocked quietly on Remus’ door.

“Oh hey Moons, can I use your phone?” Sirius pushed past and stood expectantly in his living room.

“Sure, something up with yours?”

“Oh err, yeah not working right.”

Remus hums in agreement and Sirius darts over to the phone charging on the wall. ‘1 new voicemail’ flashed on the screen. Sirius sighs with relief as he punches in the voicemail code and listens.

“Moony, no doubt Sirius is on his way over there right now. We went to great lengths this weekend to attempt to prevent you listening to Sirius’ voicemail from friday night, but in case he managed to delete it, I think you should know anyways. He’s mad about you. You both are a couple of idiots who need to wake up and smell the big gay love.” Siriuis could hear James snickering as Peter spoke and then the line went dead. He cursed under his breath, vowing to kill James. But then, if this was the only new voicemail. Oh fuck.

Sirius turned off the phone, squeezed the phone in his hands, and bracing himself turned around to face Remus. Remus who was standing now, leaning against the doorway to his bedroom with a raised brow and crossed arms. Remus who had a delicious little smirk playing at the corner of his gorgeous mouth. Remus who-

“Anything interesting?”

Siius didn’t know what to say. What could he even say? So he didn’t say anything he just stood there like a wild animal cornered, assessing his escape options. Remus pushed off of the wall and strode forward a few paces and came to a halt in front of Sirius, not five feet from him.

“You know,” Remus said thoughtfully. “I got this really interesting voicemail Saturday morning.”

Sirius felt the colour drain from his face.

“But you-”

“You didn’t think my mum would let me get away with not having a phone all weekend did you?” Remus interrupted with a smile, amusement painting his every feature. Then his smile faded into a look of uncertainty. “Look, if you want, we can forget the whole thing.”

“What do you-”

“You were drunk,” Remus interrupted again. “We all say things we don’t entirely mean when we’ve had far too much to drink, and you definitely sounded like you had too much to drink.”

“Well I-”

“And you didn’t really get my hopes up or anything, it’ll be fine. Our friendship is the most important thing to me. You, James, Peter, us-the Marauders I mean-That’s what matters and I wouldn't want to screw any of that up. Nothing else matters, I don’t want to make anything awkward either, the other stuff could just fade away.”

Sirius grinned, both his brows raised and watched as Remus babbled away, offering a ‘Moony?’ every so often, hoping to cut into his spoken monologue. And people told Sirius that he was the one who liked to hear himself talk.

“Granted it hasn’t in years. I mean, it’s not like weird or anything-fuck-I just mean-”

“Moony!” Sirius said loudly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he shook his head in exasperation. “Shut up.”

He stepped forward quickly, gripped Remus shoulders and pulled him against himself. Their noses were practically touching, Remus’ eyes locked with Sirius’.

“If you don’t want me to kiss you, tell me now,” Sirius said quietly, practically a whisper in the silent room, their lips a mere inch apart. When Remus didn’t reject him Sirius closed his eyes and brushed his lips gently against Remus’ in a chaste kiss. He pulled away and looked at Remus, searching his face for a reaction and grinned when Remus beamed back at him.

One of Remus’ arms snaked around Sirius’ waist and the other cupped the back of his neck, pulling him back into a kiss that was deeper, stronger, and felt like a promise. They tasted, explored and teased for what seemed like forever, and ended too soon. Remus tasted like fresh water in the desert, smelled amazing, felt like home. They were still standing there-sirius still in his leather jacket and his shoes on-when a loud crash interrupted their ministrations.

“All your clothes better be on, Pads,” James called as he banged his way into Remus’ flat. “I swear to Merlin!”

Remus chuckled as Sirius groaned and dropped his head to Remus’ shoulder, but his shoulders shook with his own laughter too. He pulled back and looked back into Remus’ eyes who simply winked at him.

“What if it’s me who stripped and pulled a naked man, Prongsie?”

“Well that would be quite unexpected and out of character for the great Mssr. Moony, and I would have to encourage it,” Sirius could practically hear him grinning. “Carry on, I’ll just wait here, totally not listening to you both at all.”

Sirius grabbed a pillow off of Remus’ bed, darted out of Remus’ room and threw it at James who was sprawled out on the couch already flicking through the tele.

“Perv,” Sirius laughed and tackled James, giving him a couple playful punches to the gut.

Remus’ laughed and pulled out some of the pizza James had brought--apparently it was already lunch time, they really had been snogging for sometime--and settled on the floor, all lanky limbs and curly hair. Sirius watched him fondly before falling back into their usual banter and good natured teasing. This was the best part of being in love with his best friend.

[hms-chill]

RWRB Study Guide: Chapter 7

Hi y’all! I’m going through Casey McQuiston’s Red, White & Royal Blue and defining/explaining references! Feel free to follow along, or block the tag #rwrbStudyGuide if you’re not interested!

Crêpe-eating tourists (157): Crepes are a thin, flat pancake traditionally filled with sugar, but commonly filled with other toppings. They are an iconic French dish and are popular with tourists both for this reason and because they are typically inexpensive.

Place du Tertre (157): A square in Paris, it is in the Montmarte district, which is known for its art history.

Crusty baguettes (157): Baguettes are a French bread that is meant to be crusty on the outside and soft on the inside.

Le Monde (158): The most popular French newspaper.

Fromagerie Nicole Barthélémy (158): A famously wonderful cheese shop in Paris.

Parisian cheese shop (158): French cheese are known for being fancy and especially good.

Pisces (159): A zodiac sign known for being compassionate, artistic, and intuitive. (more)

NYU (159): New York University.

The Met (159): The Metropolitan Museum of Art, a famous art museum in New York.

Joanne (160): JK Rowling, who wrote the Harry Potter books, and has been pretty consistently homophobic and transphobic on twitter. 

Freddie Mercury (161): Lead singer of the band Queen, Mercury never officially came out, but he had long-term relationships with both men and women and was known for his camp performances, and there are claims that he was “openly gay”. His flamboyance and camp performances, as well as his relationship with partner Jim Hutton, essentially demanded that people simply take him as he was. He died of complications from AIDS in 1991, one day after admitting openly that he had been diagnosed four years earlier. (More)

For context within the book, he wrote “Don’t Stop Me Now”

Elton John (161): A famous British musician. He came out as bisexual in 1976, then as gay in 1992. He and his husband, David Furnish, became civil partners in 2005, the day they became legal in the UK. They were officially married on the ninth anniversary of their civil partnership, the year that gay marriage was legalized within the UK. (More)

Bowie (161): David Bowie, who was a bi British musician and actor who, in 1976, described his bisexuality as “the best thing that ever happened to me”. His wife (who was also bi, and with whom he often shared partners) claimed that he had a relationship with Mick Jagger, though his bisexuality has been consistently erased, both during his life and since his death. (More)

Again for book context, Henry’s dog is named for David Bowie

Jagger (161): Mick Jagger, an English singer/songwriter and member of the Rolling Stones, known for his promiscuity. As mentioned above, he and Bowie pretty clearly had a relationship, though his Wikipedia makes no mention of queerness. (More)

Oakley Street (161): A street that runs through an affluent borough of London.

Stonewall (161): The Stonewall Inn in New York City is a gay bar. The riots against police brutality there in July of 1969 are heralded as the beginning of the gay rights movement.

SCOTUS decision in 2015 (161): The Supreme Court ruling that legalized gay marriage across the US.

Walt Whitman (161): An American poet who wanted to become The American Poet and saw himself as the quintessential American. His poetry often deals with his queerness, and he absolutely slept with Oscar Wilde in the late 1800s. 

Fun fact; he is celebrated in the movie The Dead Poets Society, which is incredibly popular with Sad Gay English Majors and which Henry would definitely have seen.

Laws of Illinois 1961 (161): In 1961, Illinois became the first state in the US to repeal its sodomy laws.

White Night Riot (161): A series of riots in San Francisco protesting the lenient sentencing of the man who killed Harvey Milk, the first openly queer politician. The riots were the most violent queer uprising since the events at the Stonewall.

Paris is Burning (161): A 1990s movie celebrating drag ball culture in New York. It celebrates in particular queer communities of color in the late 1980s, when the AIDS epidemic was at its peak.

“If I die of AIDS...” (161): This is a real photo; you can find it here. The man’s jacket could refer to a form of protest called “die-ins”, where people with AIDS would go to a homophobic politician’s office or another public place where they were refused treatment and simply not leave until after they died. (see it here)

Chop my own tit off (162): Fun mythology fact; the Amazons (warrior women from Greek mythology) actually did this to make themselves better archers.

H fucking W (162): George HW Bush, a former US president.

George (163): George Villers was the boyfriend of King James the I/VI, and Prince George, Duke of Kent, was rumored to be in a polyamorous relationship in the 1920s. 

Edward (162): Edward II was a famously gay king. He was may have been "wedded brothers" with Piers Gaveston and may have also had a relationship with Hugh le Despenser the younger following Gaveston's death. (More)

James (162): The British king known for translating the Bible and being just... indescribably gay and very deeply horny. He promoted his boyfriend, George Villers, to the highest non-royal position in the UK within a few years of starting to date him. James’s friends actively tried to set him up with hot guys for their own political gain.

Alexander (163): Alexander Hamilton was an incredibly bi founding father. He’s remembered for founding our current national banking system, having the first ever American sex scandal, and for literally never shutting up or knowing how to stop being A Lot All The Time. 

Catalina (164): Catalina is an island near Los Angeles. On a more meta level, St. Catalina was a respected writer.

June (164): June Carter Cash was an American singer/songwriter/director/comedian.

Tricky Dick (164): Richard Nixon, a president remembered for wiretapping his opponent.

Taft (165): 27th president of the United States.

Eisenhower (165): 34th president of the US.

Baby (166): this is what Henry’s mom calls him; I wrote a thing about it here.

Daily Mail (166): A trashy British tabloid.

Lollapalooza (167): A music festival in Chicago known for setting fashion trends and having lots of drugs.

Joni Mitchell (167): A singer/songwriter known for her innovative use of the guitar, including unique tunings, chords, and a unique fingerpicking/strumming style. (Listen here)

Cocaine (168): A highly addictive drug. It is snorted, smoked, or injected, and while it makes people feel more confident or forget their problems, the highs from it last only up to about 30 minutes, which often drives people to take it more frequently. Side effects (aside from addiction) include a loss of appetite, irritability, and increased mental health issues. 

Spitfire (168): Someone with a quick temper or willingness to fight.

High as a kite (169): Someone who’s “high as a kite” is on a lot of drugs and is still enjoying the high.

Clean (169): Drug/alcohol free.

Stiff upper lip (170): Ability to seem determined or hold it together in the face of hard times.

A levels (170): A UK test taken for admittance to college, similar to the ACT/SAT in the US

Henry V at RSC (171): Henry V is a Shakespearean history play about the life of Henry V, especially focused on the events of the Hundred Years’ War. RSC, or the Royal Shakespeare Company, is a Shakespeare theater company in London.

Travis County (171): The Texan county where Austin is located.

Surfside (171): A beach in Texas.

Adderall (172): A prescription drug taken for ADHD but commonly abused by students to help them stay awake for all-nighters or focused for unhealthily long study sessions. However, given McQuinston’s claim that Alex has undiagnosed ADHD, it likely helped him to be able to focus and helped his brain work the way it was expected to.

Almond milk (vs. dairy) (173): Texas has a huge dairy industry, and almond milk is not great for the environment.

The Gun File (173): American gun law is so deeply broken.

WASPy Hunter’s Harvard pencil cup (175): Harvard is a prestigious college in Boston; it has a reputation for being mostly rich white folks.

Iron curtains of gerrymandering (175): Gerrymandering is a form of drawing lines for voting districts to disenfranchise marginalized voters. It is a form of skewing elections to keep power in the hands of the powerful that divides marginalized votes, making people of color or poor folks the minority in their districts, therefore erasing their votes on a broader scale.

Vision-boarding his funeral (175): a vision board is typically made to inspire someone to pursue a goal.

Parks & Recreation (175): A popular American sit-com focused on the parks and recreation department in a small town in Indiana. 

Leslie Knope (176): a Parks & Rec character. One of her defining traits is an aggressive, overwhelming love for the people in her life.

Mid-century rug (177): Mid-century furniture and style is characterized by lots of color and playful patterns (following the more reserved WWII period in the 1940s); it is rising in popularity again as a classy yet fashionable look.

J14 (178): A teen fashion/celebrity magazine.

Sacramento Bee (178): The largest newspaper in Sacramento, CA.

Southerness (180): In positive lights, the American South is known for its genuine, warm, unselfish hospitality.

Jane Austen my life (180): Jane Austen is a British author whose novels star lower/middle class women who fall in love with rich men. They typically try to avoid these men for large portions of the book, or at least have rather negative feelings about them due to a misunderstanding or other failure to communicate.

LSAT (181): the test taken for admittance to law school.

Carmarthenshire (183): A largely agricultural county in South Wales. As a tourist destination, it is known for its wide range of outdoor activities.

Llwynywermod (184): A royal estate in Carmarthenshire, the biggest building of which is a renovated three-bedroom farmhouse. It is surrounded by the rolling green hills common to south Wales.

Finals (in the US) (185): At US colleges, a semester’s final tests (typically worth up to 30-40% of a final grade) take place the week after classes end.

Stamp on his forehead at The Tombs (185): Tombs is a bar near Georgetown. According to reviews, and “Tombs Night” parties, where students celebrate their 21st birthday and get their foreheads stamped at the end of the night, are a Georgetown tradition.

Jumped in Dalhgren Fountain (185): Dalhgren Fountain is in the center of Georgetown’s campus. Swimming in it is a Georgetown tradition.

Summa cum laude (186): “with greatest honor”.

Ceviche (186): A seafood dish native to Peru that spread to Mexico, where it contains lime, avocado, chili peppers, onions, and cilantro.

Palm Room (187): The gateway to the West Wing, the area of the White House where most politics happen.

Hoe Dameron (190): A reference to Star Wars character Poe Dameron, a rebel pilot and the first Latino main character in the series.

Prince Buttercup (190): Princess Buttercup is the heroine/love interest in The Princess Bride, 

West Hollywood (190): One of the most prominent gay neighborhoods in the US.

“Call Me” (191): The most popular song of 1980; it was originally written for the film American Gigolo and inspired by the film’s opening sequence of a character driving along the coast of California. (Listen here)

“So Emotional” (191): An absolute bop about enjoying being in love. (Listen here)

“Don’t Stop Me Now” (193): A Queen song where Mercury sings to both a man and a woman; it’s a huge bop. (Listen here)

In-N-Out (194): A fast food restaurant/burger chain native to California and unavailable in other states.

Animal style (195): Animal style burgers are an In-N-Out staple; it includes the typical burger toppings, along with mustard fried into the patty, pickles, onions, and extra spread.

French-fries-dipped-in-milkshake (195): a truly god-tier American dessert tradition.

“O captain, my captain” (196): A reference both to the idea of a lacrosse team captain and to Whitman’s poem, “O Captain, My Captain” (as mentioned above, Whitman was a deeply gay American poet).

Burberry (200): A posh British brand of clothing known for its classy, traditional pieces.

Cats that caught the canaries (200): A cat that caught a canary is a person who looks smug or satisfied.

Mother hen (201): A “mom friend” or someone who will do everything they can to look out for people they care about, sometimes to the point of it being annoying.

—-

If there’s anything I missed or that you’d like more on, please let me know! And if you’d like to/are able, please consider buying me a ko-fi? I know not everyone can, and that’s fine, but these things take a lot of time/work and I’d really appreciate it!

—–

Chapter 1 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 8 

[umichenginabroad]

Level 5: Adventure of a Lifetime

Curious about where this stunning view is? You are about to find out.

Hello and welcome to one of the most thrilling levels of my journey (yeah, I lied in Level 4 that this one won’t be demanding). I am sorry I have been AWOL for a while and the game has been on hold but here we are, back again with more action than ever. 

So after the summer term at UNSW ended and I successfully survived my Circuit Theory final exam, we had a week off before T1 (the first trimester) starts. This is the only major break exchange students, who are here for the tailored term, get so everyone takes the opportunity to travel and explore different parts of Australia (or the world). Some students had their parents visiting them so they went on a trip with them. Most exchange students headed off to New Zealand, and some do the East Coast trip in Australia which includes visiting the world famous Great Barrier Reef and the Gold Coast. I decided to visit Tasmania with my friends. 

Tasmania, or Tassie as the locals call it here, is a small island only about an hour and a half away from Sydney via air. Before we start the level, let me introduce you to the key players we will encounter a lot in this post. 

Firstly, Tin Ray Liou a.k.a Bruno, our new friend who we met through Facebook to plan a trip in Tasmania. There are many Facebook groups dedicated to travelling and backpacking throughout Australia as camping and driving around with new people is a popular method of travel here. Secondly, Nolan, a fellow Wolverine. And last but not the least, me. That’s 3 main characters but lots of special appearances will be seen throughout this level.

Let’s begin!

Sneak Peek: Nolan on the left, Bruno in the middle, and me on the right.

We took an early morning flight from Sydney to Hobart (capital of Tassie) on the 9th of February. After meeting up with Bruno at the airport in Hobart and discussing an exciting itinerary for the 8 days, we drove towards the city centre. First thing we did in the city was pick up camping gear from Kmart as we planned to camp for all 8 days in Tassie. Gear consisted of: tents, sleeping bags, camp stove, hiking kits, plastic kitchenware, and insect repellent. After that we explored Salamanca Place, a vibrant cultural town in the city center dazzling with vintage architecture, shopping markets and aesthetic sights. We also strolled along the wharf near Salamanca Place for some fresh views of the harbor and to enjoy local fish and chips.

Scenes from Salamanca Place..

There is a famous Saturday market in Salamanca Place but we missed it by a day. However, on a Sunday, there is the Farm Gate Market, where you can try homegrown Tasmanian delicacies ranging from apples, olive oil, peanut butter to bacon, gin, and cheese. We made sure to indulge in the Sunday Farm market.

Glimpse of Farm Gate Market..

Next up was visiting Battery Point, an old maritime village featuring colonial architecture. After stepping back in time and walking through the fascinating precinct of Battery Point, we set out to find some isolated lookouts with stunning views. 

Views from Battery Point..

Found a beautiful secluded beach..

But maybe, we were not alone. Where do these lead us?

In just a few hours in Tasmania, we were in love with this island. We found a camping ground near this beach and set up our tents before sunset and then cooked dinner. It was going to be an interesting experience because the last time I camped was 4 years ago. The next morning, we set out to hike the kunanyi/Mount Wellington - the summit of the Wellington Range in Hobart. It was one of the first major hikes for me and I was pumped! It took us 4 hours and 45 minutes to make the return journey around the summit of 4163 ft. I was awestruck at some stunning mid-way views. The fact that we had network service, almost throughout our hike was also impressive. Although, it was a very cloudy day so we couldn’t see the whole city from the top, but it’s not every day you have got your head in the clouds...literally!

Our first steps into the Summit walk..

Head in the Clouds at 4163 ft..successful summit of kunanyi/Mt.Wellington..

Our next camping site, Eldee, was super fun and we met a lot of people from all around the world - either visiting Tasmania on vacation or fulfilling some requirements of the Working Holiday visa. 

Luxury Accommodation out in the wild..

Definitely recommend a game of UNO with new friends in the camping lounge...

Now, we have talked about Tasmania a lot already but maybe we are missing something significant. The Tasmanian Devil. People, how could we forget about this infamous animal? Well, we didn’t. My friends and I had the opportunity to pay a visit to the devil in an UnZoo. UnZoo is a very interesting concept of..umm...I will have you read it for yourself.

The UnZoo Philosophy..

Presenting you the greatest jaw strength on the planet: Tasmanian Devil.

Yes, the Tasmanian Devil has the greatest jaw strength of all animals. And trust me, I could feel it when I saw it feed on a piece of meat. One can hear the bones from the meat..crunching ever so loudly. I am glad I could witness the devil in his element up close. 

Before heading eastwards to begin our travel for the Great Eastern Drive, we also checked out a few more sites and breathtaking views. To get a better picture of what I mean, here:

Enjoy this spectacular view from Tasman National Park..

The beautiful Tasman Arch..

A panoramic of Tessellated Pavement - heaven for the eyes. 

Alright..breathing break. Every single view on this island beats the previous one. It’s just a fantastic place to be in. It’s a small island yet it has so much to offer. 

We also visited Port Arthur, a historic site which is one of the most haunted places in Australia. Now, obviously, we signed up for the special Ghost Tour of Port Arthur which took you around famous landmarks at night time - extra thrill! It was a very spooky experience hearing about the tales and torture of convicts at Port Arthur and the personal haunted experiences of the site staff.

View of the Church in Port Arthur against the grim night sky..

Not gonna lie, I slept a little scared that night in my tent. Poof, some more hikes then,

A 3-hr return journey to Cape Raoul..

Special Character: Echidna - spotted on downhill journey from Cape Raoul

In the Great Eastern Drive, we hit up the most popular tourist spots in Tasmania: Freycinet National Park, Wineglass Bay and the Bay of Fires. In Freycinet, we hiked up to Mt. Amos. It was a rough hike with a lot of boulder scrambling and damp weather also made it slippery. But, the greater the risk the greater the reward.

Peep the fascinating sight from the top of Mt. Amos..

..and the white sandy stretch of Wineglass Bay behind us. 

Apologies in advance. But, we may need to take a detour to Mars.

I found Mars, it’s at Bay of Fires.

Orange rocks and a green beach paired with white sand - Bay of Fires seems more like a fairy tale. But it’s real. 

Proof.

We concluded the Great Eastern Drive with Bay of Fires and started driving towards the Great Western Tiers. Great Western Tiers was a mix and match of mountains, lakes, and..caves. 

Little Blue Lake - the bluest water I have ever witnessed upfront.

This blue colour is actually due to tin mining and sedimentation in this area, many years ago.

the 450 million years old Marakoopa Caves in Mole Creek..

Whatever you see in the caves is mostly calcite. Phew. We saved the best hike for the last. Cradle Mountain Summit - the 5th highest peak in Tasmania and one of the most popular hikes among avid campers in Tassie. There are multiple ways you could hike up to the top, including the Overland Track which is a 9 day overnight trek. We did the full day hike, however we did not summit due to time constraints. We still got pretty sweet views from our 5 hour return journey from Marion’s lookout - the highest trek after the Summit. 

The beginning..

midway...

At the top - Marion’s Lookout. 

Now is a good time to piece together the picture I started off with. That shows me looking at the peak of Cradle Mountain, and hopefully you are feeling some sort of adrenaline after reading through all this. 

WOW. That was a lot of hiking and running around to explore. With only one day left, we decided to check out some local festivals in Mole Creek and explore the city of Launceston. We saw a vintage vehicle display, equestrians practicing, and a wood-chopping contest! A chill vibe at the end to complement all the adventure. By this time, we had started missing sleeping on actual beds. 

Bless the sun that day for making the view 10x better..

Satisfied, amazed, and grateful are some of the feelings I can attempt to describe for the conclusion of the trip. Not a single day went by where we were not in awe of this lovely place. Every view beat the previous one and just brought us so close to nature and wildlife. For the most part, camping was nice and cool, except for one night when we had visiting guests in the form of possums. Not one, not two...but three! Right outside my tent by the bushes. They were nice enough to not bother us in sleep..phew. Mountains, lakes, beaches, history, mystery, caves..this island has it all. Just step out and explore, you will not be disappointed.

Alas, it seems like we are finishing the most adventurous level there has been. As I reminisce the last time we set up tents and our last sunset in Tasmania, I hope you enjoyed the ride and thank you for coming this far with me!

Cheers,

…

Nikhil Punshi

Aerospace Engineering, University of Michigan

University of New South Wales, Sydney, Australia - Winter 2020

[aoibaratraveler]

UK Road Trip Week 3

Ahhh late post was initially meaning to post every Monday but what can you do when you're on the road with limited signal sometimes and always wanting to look out the window and the pretty sights.

Day 15:

Woke up early and was finally able to put in our big bag of laundry into the wash. We weren't really able to do the things we thought about doing like going for a hike or a bike ride because we wanted to wait for our laundry so instead we took it easy and watched the last episode of izombie and once V was done with her skype interview we went grocery shopping for dinner supplies since we were going to cook ratatouille. We got back to the house and prepped all the vegetables and V made vegan chocolate pudding for dessert. Once everything was prepped and ready we decided to go kayaking for a little while before everyone would be back for dinner. Since there were 3 of us and only 2 kayaks, the bf and I decided to share one but boy was that a mistake because the bf sat in front with me in the back (so he was sitting in between my legs) and I'm not sure how but all his weight was on me and when I tried to position myself to paddle, it put so much strain on my abs and was the most painful thing so it was a struggle but at least we had a laugh and got to see a cool cave and some beautiful waves; got pretty drenched though. On the way back the bf and V switched and she and I sat together which made the paddle back much easier because she's lighter and I sat in front this time for good measure. When we got back, we quickly whipped up the rest of dinner (which was delicious) and chowed down. We then drove V's parents to an evening event and then the bf had a go at driving "Marvin", a classic 70's Volkswagen beetle that was gifted to V and her sister by their parents when they were 17. We got back and played games until midnight and V's parents returned just before we were to call it a night. V's dad decided out of the blue though that he wanted to show us the strangest card trick which involved being able to manipulate two rows of cards to be completely black and completely red even though we were the ones dealing it. Afterward, V showed us a curious card trick as well before we finally hit the hay.

Day 16:

Had a nice long catch up with V this morning before saying goodbye so much so that we didn't leave her house until 12:30...when we were expecting a 7 hour drive ahead of us...on the plus side when I mentioned to her parents that lately it's been cold while camping, her mom went and got us a duvet to take with us that she was planning to donate anyway. The drive was lovely and scenic but I was feeling a bit ill because of my indigestion so couldn't fully take it in. We were short on time since we didn't want to set up the tent when it was too dark and we only made one stop on the drive in a place just outside of Land's End called St. Just. It was a cliffside surrounded by lush green rolling hills and fields that was just gorgeous and gave such an atmosphere with the overcast. The rocky cliffs partially covered in grass and flowers were wonderful as they overlooked the clear blue-green ocean water. We sat there for a while and just took it in but I was sure that I could just sit there all day and still want more. It was most definitely my favourite stop by far. Afterward, we continued our drive from Cornwall to St. Clears which is just outside of Carmarthen in Wales and arrived at about 9:30 and were able to set up the tent even though it was already quite dark and managed to finish before the rain really poured down.

Day 17:

Today we experienced a downpour for most of the morning and day with the sun really only coming out at 5. We decided to leave early so we could drive through Swansea and then Cardiff. The clouds and rain didn't help the run-down atmosphere that Swansea was giving off with numerous shops that we drove by being closed down. When we got to Cardiff we decided to head straight for Tim Hortons which was nice since I was feeling a bit homesick although it obviously wasn't as good as what I've had in Canada. Afterward, we walked to the Millennium center which was the location for many Doctor Who episodes. After that, we watched the Liverpool game at an Australian sports bar and then headed to Caerphilly Castle which is the largest castle in Wales and had a nice little stroll before heading back for the night since we were still pretty tired from the previous day's drive.

Day 18:

As soon as we woke up today we attempted to put away our tent but struggled because of the periodic downpour that seemed to come down very hard every 10 minutes or so. We felt a bit bad though because the tent next to us was huge and the guy who was taking it down was on his own and seemed completely unfazed by the rain. We set off as soon as we could and drove along the Welsh coast/Pembrokeshire coast and again saw some gorgeous coastal views from St. David's to Trefin to Fishguard. It was especially lovely because the rain had cleared up. The cove in Trefin beach that is part of the Pembrokeshire coast national park was my favourite part of the drive and just beautiful. When we arrived in Aberystwyth we walked around the beach for a while and the bf showed me where he used to live. We even got pizza for dinner from a place called Hollywood pizza where he used to go most nights after drinking. Super cheesy with a buttery and crispy crust. We then continued our stroll and hiked up Constitution hill for some gorgeous views of the city. After a few minutes at the top, the bf was too cold so we walked down and caught a bit of the sunset on the before heading back.

Day 19:

The bf disagrees but I found the bed at this Airbnb that we booked for our stay in Aberystwyth super comfy and the pillows super fluffy and to be completely honest, it made me dread the thought of camping again but only a little bit. We got up and went to eat at "Sophie's", a breakfast cafe that the bf was a regular at during his uni days. It was super yummy there and the veggie sausages were on point. It was a rather humid day but again the weather couldn't decide whether it wanted to be Sunny or have a downpour. After breakfast, we headed to a place called "Devil's Bridge". It had loads of beautiful waterfalls and cool bridges. We stupidly parked in a spot that required us to pay even though the car park for the Devil's Bridge was free. The walk around the bridge and waterfall area took about 45 mins. There was a steep staircase there that, not gonna lie, terrified me at first. My fear of heights picks and chooses its moments and it had a pretty big one then. I'm totally fine with hiking up steep areas but hiking down is different so needed the bf's help then. The hike/walk back up the stairs of the place was certainly steep so my legs were shaking by the end of it. From the Devil's Bridge, we headed to Morrisons for some supplies and then back to the Airbnb to chill for a bit and watch Doctor Who. The bf and I both agree that the Matt Smith portion of the show is our favourite and that he's our favourite Doctor because he's wise but also daft and loveable. We concluded the night by having another stroll along the beach and grabbing some McDonald's...oh and since this Airbnb is working like a legitimate BnB, the room next to us was also taken so the night was really ended by us trying to drown out the sound of the couple in the next room having sex...lovely. 🙃

Day 20:

Today was the day that we were meant to hike Snowden so I got up at 8 packed my stuff, finished my chapter of HP that I was on and uploaded week 2 of my blog! By the time we got to the car though we realized it would be foolish to try and get to Snowden this late in the morning and hike it. Instead, we dawdled for a bit and then had lunch at a fusion place in Aberystwyth that I'd been wanting to try; really yummy fried chicken there. We then drove to the university that the bf used to attend and he showed me around the campus and the student housing in which he lived in during first year and recalled stories from that time. We then headed to Snowdonia National park since the bf's friend, T, lives and works there. She works in this quaint little book shop in a small town that had a such a laid back feel to it called Porth Madog. It was my first time meeting her but she was really nice and informative about what we could do in the area, she also reminded me immensely of another friend that the bf and I both know because of their mannerisms and colour of hair that they have both dyed the same colour. After chatting with her for a bit, we headed to the bay area near the town which was so lovely and serene and we sat there and read for a bit. When it became a bit cold we decided to head to Aldi for some snacks. All throughout the day I was feeling really sluggish and sleepy and no amount of coffee or energy drink seemed to help (only had one of each lol). The bf felt the same but he more so was just dreading our impending plans of wild camping but I was as well since we both had never done it before and didn't really want to deal with waiting for dusk to put up the tent and then to wake up at the crack of dawn to take it down. We agreed we didn't want to bother with the hassle, at least not that night since we were both tired and so we drove near the base of Snowden, parked in a lay by, reorganized the car and then slept.

Day 21:

Woke up at roughly 7 am and so did the bf and we both had the resolve to quickly get ready and start the hike up Snowden as soon as we could. Luckily there was a washroom at the base car park so we could freshen up. We then began the walk from where we parked the car (15 mins walk from the base) at about 8:45 am. I have already seen some quite spectacular coastal views in the UK but this was by far the best inland views I'd seen yet and my first time seeing proper mountainous views here. Such beauty, I'd never done this kind of hike before in my life.

I know I'm from Vancouver and I'm sure there are gorgeous hikes there but I never had my own car to get to them. I've hiked up Grouse Mountain and even though the views from the chalet are beautiful, it's just not as scenic a hike. My photos can't even begin to bring it justice. I was also surprised that it really didn't feel that difficult so I suppose I'm in better shape than I thought, I even seemed to be having an easier time at it than the bf. We walked along beautiful streams and what seemed like endless ridges and countless sheep just minding their own business. I might be a bit bias, but the bf is really just the best hiking buddy. He's always calm, reassuring, and well prepared and I felt the hike was that much more fun because I could share the experience with him. I honestly wish I could have filmed the whole hike to really capture what an amazing experience it was but I didn't have the equipment. Near the summit, there is a portion of the hike that is truly a scramble. I felt like a monkey as I crawled up the edge of the mountain; what an adrenaline rush but also thoroughly exhausting. It took us just under 4 hours to reach the summit. Even though I thoroughly enjoyed the hike up, especially so with the lovely weather, the summit was appalling. It was absolutely crowded with tourists, many of whom were inappropriately dressed for such a strenuous hike AND who were also drinking and smoking! At the top of a mountain!? Ugh. The summit was really small and there was nothing to do but maybe go to the unnecessary pub that is there and look at the gorgeous view. So after about 30 minutes, we decided to head back down a different way. The walk down was much harder on my feet and at times very painful but I persevered because if I were to stop and rest for too long then we would have gotten caught up in an obnoxious camp group that was on our tail. It took us 2 and a half hours to get back down to the base of the mountain although it felt shorter (so did the hike up) and the total time was about 7 and a half hours from the car and back. We walked about 31 000 steps and I just felt so proud of myself to have been able to accomplish that hike at all, I was happy for the rest of the day but that also could have been because of the endorphins. We had a snack at a nearby cafe after leaving Snowden and then drove to Betws y Coed and set up in a nearby lay by again feeling fully destroyed and ready for sleep.

[themoonlightarchive]

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday TBR! Every week, I’ll be selecting a few books I recently added to my tbr pile (or maybe even some that have been on it for a while) and making a quick post about them. Read below the cut for more details on the books I chose this week!

Teeth In The Mist (Dawn Kurtagich) goodreads | book depository | amazon

Goodreads synopsis:           "Before the birth of time, a monk uncovers the Devil's Tongue and dares to speak it. The repercussions will be felt for generations...           Sixteen-year-old photography enthusiast Zoey has been fascinated by the haunted, burnt-out ruins of Medwyn Mill House for as long as she can remember--so she and her best friend, Poulton, run away from home to explore them. But are they really alone in the house? And who will know if something goes wrong?            In 1851, seventeen-year-old Roan arrives at the Mill House as a ward--one of three, all with something to hide from their new guardian. When Roan learns that she is connected to an ancient secret, she must escape the house before she is trapped forever.            1583. Hermione, a new young bride, accompanies her husband to the wilds of North Wales where he plans to build the largest water mill and mansion in the area. But rumors of unholy rituals lead to a tragic occurrence and she will need all her strength to defeat it.            Three women, centuries apart, drawn together by one Unholy Pact. A pact made by a man who, more than a thousand years later, may still be watching... "

The Merciful Crow (Margaret Owen) goodreads | book depository | amazon

Goodreads synopsis:           "Fie abides by one rule: look after your own. Her Crow caste of undertakers and mercy-killers takes more abuse than coin, but when they’re called to collect royal dead, she’s hoping they’ll find the payout of a lifetime.           When Crown Prince Jasimir turns out to have faked his death, Fie’s ready to cut her losses—and perhaps his throat. But he offers a wager that she can’t refuse: protect him from a ruthless queen, and he’ll protect the Crows when he reigns.           Hawk warrior Tavin has always put Jas’s life before his, magically assuming the prince’s appearance and shadowing his every step. But what happens when Tavin begins to want something to call his own?"

We Hunt the Flame (Hafsah Faizal) goodreads | book depository | amazon

Goodreads synopsis:           "Zafira is the Hunter, disguising herself as a man when she braves the cursed forest of the Arz to feed her people. Nasir is the Prince of Death, assassinating those foolish enough to defy his autocratic father, the king. If Zafira was exposed as a girl, all of her achievements would be rejected; if Nasir displayed his compassion, his father would punish him in the most brutal of ways.           Both are legends in the kingdom of Arawiya—but neither wants to be.           War is brewing, and the Arz sweeps closer with each passing day, engulfing the land in shadow. When Zafira embarks on a quest to uncover a lost artifact that can restore magic to her suffering world and stop the Arz, Nasir is sent by the king on a similar mission: retrieve the artifact and kill the Hunter. But an ancient evil stirs as their journey unfolds—and the prize they seek may pose a threat greater than either can imagine.           Set in a richly detailed world inspired by ancient Arabia, We Hunt the Flame is a gripping debut of discovery, conquering fear, and taking identity into your own hands."

These Witches Don't Burn (Isabel Sterling) goodreads | book depository | amazon

Goodreads synopsis:           "Hannah's a witch, but not the kind you're thinking of. She's the real deal, an Elemental with the power to control fire, earth, water, and air. But even though she lives in Salem, Massachusetts, her magic is a secret she has to keep to herself. If she's ever caught using it in front of a Reg (read: non-witch), she could lose it. For good. So, Hannah spends most of her time avoiding her ex-girlfriend (and fellow Elemental Witch) Veronica, hanging out with her best friend, and working at the Fly by Night Cauldron selling candles and crystals to tourists, goths, and local Wiccans.           But dealing with her ex is the least of Hannah's concerns when a terrifying blood ritual interrupts the end-of-school-year bonfire. Evidence of dark magic begins to appear all over Salem, and Hannah's sure it's the work of a deadly Blood Witch. The issue is, her coven is less than convinced, forcing Hannah to team up with the last person she wants to see: Veronica.           While the pair attempt to smoke out the Blood Witch at a house party, Hannah meets Morgan, a cute new ballerina in town. But trying to date amid a supernatural crisis is easier said than done, and Hannah will have to test the limits of her power if she's going to save her coven and get the girl, especially when the attacks on Salem's witches become deadlier by the day."

The Silence of the Girls (Pat Barker) goodreads | book depository | amazon

Goodreads synopsis:           "The ancient city of Troy has withstood a decade under siege of the powerful Greek army, which continues to wage bloody war over a stolen woman: Helen. In the Greek camp, another woman watches and waits for the war's outcome: Briseis. She was queen of one of Troy's neighboring kingdoms until Achilles, Greece's greatest warrior, sacked her city and murdered her husband and brothers. Briseis becomes Achilles's concubine, a prize of battle, and must adjust quickly in order to survive a radically different life, as one of the many conquered women who serve the Greek army.           When Agamemnon, the brutal political leader of the Greek forces, demands Briseis for himself, she finds herself caught between the two most powerful of the Greeks. Achilles refuses to fight in protest, and the Greeks begin to lose ground to their Trojan opponents. Keenly observant and coolly unflinching about the daily horrors of war, Briseis finds herself in an unprecedented position to observe the two men driving the Greek forces in what will become their final confrontation, deciding the fate, not only of Briseis's people, but also of the ancient world at large.           Briseis is just one among thousands of women living behind the scenes in this war--the slaves and prostitutes, the nurses, the women who lay out the dead--all of them erased by history. With breathtaking historical detail and luminous prose, Pat Barker brings the teeming world of the Greek camp to vivid life. She offers nuanced, complex portraits of characters and stories familiar from mythology, which, seen from Briseis's perspective, are rife with newfound revelations. Barker's latest builds on her decades-long study of war and its impact on individual lives--and it is nothing short of magnificent. "

Out of these five books, I think I’m most looking forward to These Witches Don’t Burn. It’s mostly because I’m a big fan of witches. I can’t wait to get my hands on it!

[outlaw-livin]

Interview: Emily Mizen.

Date of interview: “Today is August First in the year 1899.”

Name: “My full name is Amelia Jayne Mizen.  But these days I go by Emily.”

Are you single: “Yes.”

Are you happy: “As happy as I ever am.”

Are you angry: “In general? Yeah. Right now? Nope.”

Are your parents still married: “Last time I saw them, yes.”

Nine Facts

Birthplace:  “Blackwood, Philadelphia, My family is originally from Wales and the town was founded by the Welsh.”

Hair color: “Dark brown, fairly long.”

Eye color: “Dark brown.”

Birth date: “November 8th, 1877.”

Mood: “Pretty neutral at the moment.”

Gender: “I’m a female.”

Summer or winter: “Winter, I can’t stand the heat.”

Morning or afternoon: “Morning, I love hearing the birds and watching nature.”

Eight Things About Your Love Life

Are you in love: “No.”

Do you believe in love at first sight? “Not since I was a kid.”

Who ended your last relationship: “Never had a proper relationship to end.”

Have you ever broken someones heart: “Do my parents count? If so then, yes.”

Are you afraid of commitment: “Isn’t everyone a little bit afraid of it?”

Have you hugged someone in the last week: “I think I hugged Skye when we went out drinking last.”

Have you ever had a secret admirer: “When I was younger a stable boy used to leave fruit outside my bedroom window, or at least I think it was him.”

Have you ever broken your own heart: “You can’t break what you don’t have.”

Four preferences

Smile or eyes: “Eyes, its harder to lie with them.”

Shorter or taller: “Shorter if its a woman, Taller if its a man.”

Intelligence or Attraction: “Intelligence, I hate talking to someone who would lose a battle of wits with a bag of dirt.”

Hook up or Relationship: “Hook up.”

Six Choices

Love or Lust: “Lust.”

Lemonade or Iced Tea: “Iced tea, extra sweet.”

Cats or Dogs: “Dogs, they make perfect camping companions.”

A few Best friends or Regular Friends: “A few best friends I guess.”

Wild night out or romantic night in:  “Wild night out, you’re wasting time if you’re not raising hell.”

Day or Night: “Night, you can get away with a lotta things in the dark.”

Four Have You Evers

Been caught sneaking out:  “Too many times to count.”

Fallen Down/Up the Stairs: “Yep, Usually while drunk.”

Wanted someone/something so badly it hurt: “I guess? I longed to be free for so long there were times it hurt.”

Wanted to disappear: “As a child yes, As an adult, Only when I have the law on my tail.”

Friends

Do you secretly hate one of your friends: “No, I’d rather look someone in the eyes while I stab them.”

Do you consider all of your friends good friends: “I only have one friend, So yes”

Who is your best friend: “Skye Sharpe, Who is also my partner in crime, you may have seen the wanted posters.”

Who knows everything about you: “Me, Myself and I. I don’t share much.”

Do you and your family get along: “Hell no.”

Would you say you have a messed up life: “I rob and kill for a living so I’d say I do.”

Have you ever ran away from home: “How do you think I got here?”

​

[jeremystrele]

Entering ‘The Pavilion Of Dreams’ With Heath Wae

Entering ‘The Pavilion Of Dreams’ With Heath Wae

Studio Visit

by Sally Tabart

Photo – Lisa Sorgini.

Photo – Lisa Sorgini.

Photo – Lisa Sorgini.

Photo – Lisa Sorgini.

Photo – Lisa Sorgini.

Photo – Lisa Sorgini.

Photo – Lisa Sorgini.

Photo – Lisa Sorgini.

Photo – Lisa Sorgini.

Photo – Lisa Sorgini.

Photo – Lisa Sorgini.

Photo – Lisa Sorgini.

Photo – Lisa Sorgini.

It’s been a couple of years since we checked in with Heath Wae, and a lot has changed since then. He has a new name, a new home, and a new body of work to share. Now going by the name Heath Wae (formerly Heath Newman), he’s moved from Melbourne to Mullumbimby, New South Wales, where he lives with his partner Tais Rose in a humble little shack where the farmlands of the Mullumbimby Creek end, and the rainforest below the Koonyum Range begin. It’s not far off camping, and it’s right by their own little private bend in the creek. ‘As I type these answers the sun is setting over the mountains, and the creek is flowing along just past our deck, full with the force of the recent rains’ he emails me. ‘We are living a super simple life and I couldn’t be happier’. I believe him when he tells me it really is as supremely idyllic as it sounds!

Heath’s latest body of work, The Pavilion of Dreams, looks a little different to the pastel-hued, gestural artworks he was making when we last caught up with him. It’s the first exhibition under his new name, and there’s a meditative quality to the work. These paintings reflect this deeper study of himself, but that’s not to say there’s ego in them. Quite the opposite, I think.

Ahead of The Pavilion of Dreams opening at Harvey Galleries in Mosman, Sydney on Friday, we learn more about where he’s been – mentally, physically and philosophically!

It’s been a couple of years since we last checked it with you, and you’ve had some big life changes! How have you been going – where are you at right now?

I left Melbourne for some familiar greener pastures in Mullumbimby, New South Wales. The Northern Rivers has been my on again off again home for a good 12 years now.

I’m not sure if you are familiar with the term ‘Saturn Returns’ but it’s essentially when you really feel that you are on the path you should be, or not. Melbourne was highlighting a lot of the things I didn’t want in my life and I was working pretty hard between the art world and a part-time job to stay afloat. I felt like I really had to dig deep into what I really wanted, and the more I started working with those goals the quicker I was achieving them.

I started to shoot really high, in a lifestyle sort of sense, and have been cultivating that ever since. I had to really confront a lot of the things that were holding me back, dealing with self-worth and finding out who I was under all the ideas I had created around myself was really tough. Essentially it was two years of some sort of rebirthing process, cleaning out the bad and making way for much more good. Coming out of that, I feel I’ve really blossomed and my artwork is a reflection of this.

Naturally, I felt once that had cleared, I wanted to carry a name that was a reflection of this space I am in now, Heath Wae was coined and it feels so fitting. Wae has a sense of flow and direction and I really feel more than ever I do now too. 

That sounds intense, but ultimately positive?

It’s not often we take a deep look into who we are and see what’s good and what needs to change. I know a lot of people struggle with numerous health issues, mental and physical, and a lot of us have had deep trauma in our pasts which affects the way we live and participate in life. I think its a really beautiful and powerful thing to take a step into that journey, and look at who we really are or who we really can be. I’d like to share my deep respect for those doing this work and share my compassion for those who want to but don’t know how. I’m open to sharing more of my journey of growth as an artist and also as a human being to anyone who wants to know more, just shoot me an email.

Something I’m constantly in awe of is the sheer volume of work you create, and how easily you seem to transition between different styles. How would you say your practice has evolved over the years?

I always worked really fast, at least in the actual act of painting (or creating anything for that matter) but generally, the ideas or concepts behind the work were brewing for decades. I think one of the main developments that has changed things has been a movement in materials. I used to use a lot of acrylic, pencil, pastel and charcoal in the works, and felt these materials hold a sense of urgency in them. I would use them in this sort of automatic writing way, just allowing them to form their own dialogue with the surface. It was a great way to make work for me at the time, but for every one work resolved there was usually two or three which didn’t make the cut. Since then I’ve moved to a lot of raw pigments, ochres, oil colours and I’m working on linens, hemps and cottons.

Before I even start a work there is a huge process of collecting the materials. I’ve been doing lots of bushwalking and camping up and down the east coast, and I’ve been searching for materials in some pretty wild places. Finding your own earth pigments is a super rewarding process and I’m careful with how I use them.

This latest body I’m exhibiting is a real ode to the earth. I called it The Pavilion of Dreams as I really felt these works were created with this sense of connection to a deeper consciousness, an earth consciousness if you will. I really want to make paintings that have a healing quality and I worked out that to have that come through the works I really needed to clear myself out, to sort of be a vessel for that process and ultimately to create something that can really help people.

Tell me a bit about your new studio, Studio Of The Sun. what’s it all about?

Studio of the Sun seems to have this life-force of its own and it’s been amazing to see its potential grow in such a short time. I was supposed to go to Spain for a residency in October and felt that is wasn’t the right time, so postponed it. That week my friend and fellow artist Amber Wallis found this amazing space in this little industrial spot in Mullumbimby town. It was an old incense factory (of course) and once we looked at it we just saw how amazing an opportunity it was. I wanted to make a space that was really multifaceted and could work to give back to the local community and larger charities also.

We got some artists to fill the spaces and also a framer which is a huge asset. We wanted to minimise our impact. The more my career grew the more I could see ways to give back and also reduce my footprint. I think the art world has a secret shame in single-use plastic and logistic services, so by having the framer on-site and using bioproducts for wrapping (if necessary at all), I was stopping a lot of waste.

My partner Tais Rose and I have been working hard to set up Studio of the Sun as an online store which sources sustainable and ethical products from local artisans, and items from indigenous cultures centred around ritual.  The team of artists behind Studio of the Sun have been making artworks for the store too, and we are focussing on works that are approachable and very affordable. We want art to be accessible to all rather than an elitist product, and by sourcing wonderful materials and using the studio’s name we found we can do a wide range of things for a broad market. Artists can free up their style and make works from a light-hearted place with a focus on aesthetics. 

We are setting the store up to donate a large portion of profits back to charities which we feel hold the same values we do. It’s a win-win, people get to buy beautiful art or objects created with integrity, framed with love and minimal impact at an affordable price. 

What are you finding yourself focused on at the moment? 

It’s been a big learning curve over the past decade since graduating from art school and one of the main things I’m focussing on in a more practical sense is how to lower my impact in the studio (and life in general). I’ve worked with so many different suppliers, logistics companies and galleries in the process and found some to have wonderful ethical sensibilities and some to really leave a lot to be desired. I’m planning on making an online resource (which will be free, of course) which looks into the companies which I think are great to support and have a strong environmental and moral compass, and provide all the details for how to find them.

The Pavilion of Dreams by Heath Wae March 6th – 17th, 2020 Harvey Galleries 824 Military Road Mosman, New South Wales

[shmosnet2]

Bizarre Living Pterosaur Sightings in the UK

Bizarre Living Pterosaur Sightings in the UK

There are many places upon this planet of ours where dinosaurs are still said to roam beyond the touch of civilization, surviving into modern times to baffle and startle. While it might seem to make sense in the very outer fringes of the uncharted wilds of Africa or South America, one place where occasional sightings of supposed living dinosaurs pop up is the United Kingdom. It seems an odd place for such accounts to originate from, but there have been bizarre sightings here over the years of what seem to be flying prehistoric reptiles very similar to pterosaurs. Although comparatively rare, there have oddly been tales of living winged dinosaurs or some other similar large reptilian beasts flying through the skies of countryside of the United Kingdom going way back. At the beginning of the 20th century there was supposedly a colony of “winged serpents” lurking about the woods around Penllin Castle, in Glamorgan, Wales. The creatures were known to fly about in flocks, and although there are no modern sightings there are still living witnesses who speak of them, such as one elderly resident named Marie Trevelyan, who says: The woods around Penllin Castle, Glamorgan, had the reputation of being frequented by winged serpents, and these were the terror of old and young alike. An aged inhabitant of Penllyne, who died a few years ago, said that in his boyhood the winged serpents were described as very beautiful. They were coiled when in repose, and looked as if they were covered with jewels of all sorts. Some of them had crests sparkling with all the colours of the rainbow. When disturbed they glided swiftly, sparkling all over, to their hiding places. When angry, they flew over people’s heads, with outspread wings, bright, and sometimes with eyes too, like the feathers in a peacock’s tail. He said it was “no old story invented to frighten children”, but a real fact. His father and uncle had killed some of them, for they were as bad as foxes for poultry. The old man attributed the extinction of the winged serpents to the fact that they were “terrors in the farmyards and coverts.”

Many more modern day accounts have been collected by researcher Jonathan Whitcomb, who brings us several reports from the UK. In October of 1996, a man was out camping with friends in the Lake District of England, between Little Langdale and Coniston, when saw outlined against the moon frosted clouds a dark shape moving along at a good clip. He at first took it to be a balloon, but focusing in on it he could see that it was in fact “undulating slightly,” and that it resembled a “manta-ray fish but with a short tail.” He could also notice that the undulation he had noticed was caused by the flapping of the things massive wings, which were estimated as measuring around 35 feet from tip to tip. Whitcomb has also produced several odd reports from the countryside of Shropshire, England. One of them was related to him by a witness who says she had her encounter as recently as 2017. The witness claims she lives in the small town of Whitchurch, the oldest town in Shropshire and located right near the border of Wales. The unnamed witness claims to live near a wilderness preserve area, and that she is very familiar with the birds of the area, as many species live in the region or pass through. On this day she explains that she was out in her garden when she had a very unnerving experience, of which she says: Well, on this particular morning I heard a very strange screech; I say strange as I had never heard it before, and it was very loud, almost resounding. I could hear it getting closer across the way from behind the trees. I was curious as to what the sound was, but nothing prepared me for what I actually saw. I saw two pterodactyls, side by side, flying past the tree. Now at first I had to check myself, because the first thing I thought was “those are blooooody big birds, that’s no lie.” But what struck me was that it had a giant size beak and the wings had no feathers. This was huge and flew directly past [some crows, revealing size], so due to its size I could see it clearly although it went past fast due to the size of the clearing between the tree and the houses. It was grey in colour, both of them as far as I could tell. I have researched every bird in England and even foreign birds that look similar, in case any had escaped, but the one thing is the sound. None of the birds sound like what I heard. I took a whole day pondering and wondering what it is I actually saw. I thought perhaps it was a toy, yes they have some good toys, but they still look plastic and two dimensional unless at a great distance, even the ones that flap their wings. It didn’t flap its wings up and down like a toy. It was a very fluid motion even coming across in a down to side ways sweep. After a day of research I kept the information to myself except [for] my husband, who remained skeptical but listened very nicely. What I saw had no feathers and its wings were almost bat shaped. I had hoped someone else had seen it or it may have been reported, but as to date no one has. I have done much research online and the largest heron here still does not compare to what I saw: The legs are not long enough and the beak is not as big and the feathers are a major factor here. I cannot explain what I saw. It was something like out of a movie but it was so quick I still disbelieve what I saw, and at the same time I know what I have seen. I do not know how something like that flying around was not seen by anyone else, as it was low flying, or how it could hide, but what I have told you is true.

Although the witness remained someone skeptical herself at first, chalking it up to perhaps her imagination, her children would also see something strange in the sky not long after this. It would be enough to convince her to look into the phenomenon more, and she says: My children were playing in the garden, at around 10 a.m. [and] my son of 13 years came running in to me saying he saw a giant big brown bird with giant wings. He did have a look of fright or concern on his face, so I knew he wasn’t trying to pull my leg or was exaggerating. My younger daughter, who is nine, was with him and she said she didn’t see it, as she was playing by the trees, but she heard its sound. I asked her the sound (she happens to be a very good mimic when it comes to animals), and she made the sound that I had heard. [For] the screech sound, the only thing that has come close is on Youtube: a pterodactyl sound clip. I went through pictures of birds with my son; he said it was bigger than the eagles which usually fly around the area. He said it was brown with very long wings. I asked him [if] it have feathers; he said he doesn’t know, he only saw it for a moment. So I showed him a [picture of a] pterodactyl and he said, “Yes, that’s what it looked like.” He said it moved very fast like in stealth mode and was chasing one of the eagles or hawks around. He said it was 2-3 times the size of the bird it was chasing. I found a better image online but he said that it didn’t have such a big head crest part and the tail more like what he drew. As for me, there was something trailing but I thought it was legs, but I didn’t really focus or notice as I was focused on its front, the beak and wings, and the time frame that I saw it was very quick. But to be honest I would say I saw legs rather than a tail. It had very long wings. Interestingly, an unrelated witness in the same general region would also report seeing something very similar in September of 2017, at a local nature reserve called Telford Town Park, in Shropshire, England. He says that he was out hiking on a clear day when he had his experience, of which he explains: I was traveling along the main trail and just passed a bench which had stood since before I was born. A creature with a wingspan of about 4-6 feet and a mottled greyish brown colouration flew directly overhead and onwards towards a field where several horses are kept. I did have a smartphone that could take photos on my person, but it happened far too quick for me to have taken any. Our area does have nesting bats which, to someone who has never seen one, can look very odd when flying but this was way too big to have been a native bat species.

Reports like this of living pterosaurs in the UK seem almost absurd. After all, how could it be that something like this could possibly exist in modern times in these areas, and if they do exist why are such reports so incredibly rare? What are these people seeing? Is this misidentification of known birds or bats? Is it just tall tales? Could there really be something to it all? One theory is that these are not representative of a real flesh and blood animal at all, but rather something inter-dimensional in nature or perhaps even what is called a “zooform.” The term “zooform” was first coined by cryptozoologist Jonathan Dowes in 1990, and describes any sort of entity that physically appears as a real animal, but rather than being corporeal they are something perhaps more supernatural in nature, such as ghosts or a tulpa thought form conjured up by the power of the mind. The zooform has been an explanation for a wide variety of truly outlandish sightings in cryptozoology, so could it be that this has some connection to the cases we have looked at here? Whatever the case may be, these are some highly odd reports from perhaps one of the last places one would expect sightings of living pterosaurs still ruling the skies.

https://ift.tt/2ZtePj7 . Foreign Articles December 28, 2019 at 02:42AM

[sending-the-message]

Do not go gentle into that good night by TobiasWade

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas said that. My grandfather. I'd heard the name thrown around the house a lot when I was growing up. It was a point of family pride to be descended from such an acclaimed poet, but it never left much of an impact on me. He'd died before I was even born, time reducing even the most brilliant souls to little more than trivia.

After-all, how could I have known that an archaic poem buried away in some dusty volume was written as a warning for what was yet to come?

My father knew better though. And I had the feeling something more was coming too, but my vague foreboding was answered with nothing but his thundering scowl. For the last week he hadn't talked much. He stopped reading like he used to and barely eats at the table, although sometimes I'll hear him prowling the house in the early hours of the morning.

And always, always of late I feel him watching me. From over his newspaper, or parked outside my friends house after dropping me off. I even caught him sitting outside my room in the hallway, holding a mirror to get an angle through my partly closed door.

"Just checking if you're ready," he mumbled, seeming momentarily embarrassed.

I didn't reply, but it was getting weird and I would have spoken up if he didn't say something first. "Camping trip before school starts," he'd said. His voice carried the insistent authority of a policeman ordering someone to drop their gun. He didn't ask our opinion like he usually did when making plans. Mom must have sensed it too because she volunteered to start packing without hesitation.

"Don't bother," he told her. "It's just going to be me and the boy."

6 AM the next morning, he was hammering on my door. Time to go. He didn't need to tell me not to ask questions. Those sunken eyes and hard-pressed mouth left no room for argument. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday when he got in the car.

I kept quiet while he drove. Stoic silence, heavy silence, suffocating all opportunity for conversation. Every now and then he'd pull off the road a little to get out and look around. It felt like he didn't have any clear destination in mind, and it didn't take long for me to realize he wasn't going anywhere in particular; he just wanted to get away.

When he stopped to use the bathroom and get gas I checked the back to see what kind of gear he brought with us. Nothing in the trunk except a backpack. He brought me a sandwich, and after a brief break we were on the road again. A dirt trail cutting straight through the country finally satisfied him. The mood was so dark that I was half-expecting to be murdered the second we'd passed the last hallmark of civilization.

It was night by the time we'd stopped. The sky was a cosmic masterpiece, untainted by the erosion of electric lights. The scattered maple trees we'd passed along the way had grown denser, and dad didn't have any trouble finding some kindling to start a small fire. We didn't have a tent, or sleeping bags, or even food. I couldn't take it anymore.

"What's going on, dad? What are we doing here?"

He grunted and stirred the fire. I was pacing with agitation now, the restless energy from a day in the car overflowing into jerky, frustrated movements.

"Why didn't you want mom to come?" I tried.

"It's none of her business. This is between you and me, and my father before him, and his father before that." He looked up at me, the guttering flames reflecting dolefully in his deep eyes.

Before I could press for more, he'd sat down on a rock beside the fire and produced an ancient book from his backpack. He held it more reverently than a mother with her child, caressing the dust from its thick leather binding.

"From New York, back to Wales, and then Ireland before that," he said, handing me the tome. "Come now, take a look."

I stood beside him as we flipped through the thick vellum pages of the manuscript. Every sheet was dedicated to a single entry, each written in a myriad of separate handwritings and styles.

"Five centuries of verse," he told me. "Each generation has inscribed lines for the last five hundred years, going all the way back to someone named Brodie in 1522. You'll notice some of the earlier pieces written in Gaelic, but they've been reliably English since around the 18th century. Tonight you're going to add yours to the end, and maybe if you're lucky, the book will be finished after that."

He flipped past the continuous stream of thought through the ages to the last few entries. My eye immediately caught the name of Dylan Thomas, who in his own hand had printed his famous poem "Do not go gentle into that good night."

I quickly began to scan the next page where my father had written:

Bloodied, sickened, broken down, we tarry while we may. For though life has wearied us, from death there's no escape. One prayer, one stand, one wild charge, before it is too late, For though dark and dreary thus, there's nothing left to hate.

But father slammed the book shut and pulled it away before I could read on.

"Wait - show me what you wrote," I pressed. He shook his head, roughly dropping the book that he once cradled. "But how will I know what I'm supposed to write then?" I asked.

He was staring at the fire again, not looking at me even when he finally spoke. "Not long now. You'll know when it's time," he said. "You can't see something like that and not have something to say about it."

I didn't have to wait long, but it was unbearable while it lasted. Every rustling leaf turned to the ominous approach of some nameless horror. A snapping twig was re-imagined into the brittle bones of its latest victim, and even the whispered wind became an unpredictable adversary breathing down my neck.

And always, always, my father's eyes - fixated on me, boring into my skull. His rigid attention sent waves of tension down his face at my slightest movement. That should have been a clear enough sign of what was to come, but I didn't see it then. I just kept watching the woods, or the fire, or the great empty sky, peering and straining my ears against a world which was deaf to us.

But then in the absence of all other sound I heard what he was waiting for: the catching of my breath. I lifted vain hands in feeble disbelief, clutching at the invisible noose around my neck. I wanted to scream, but I could barely draw enough air to breathe. Dad's eyes lit up as the wheezing gasp involuntarily escaped my closing throat. Each breath came shallower than the last; only a few seconds until they stopped altogether. I was getting dizzy, and with the passing seconds mounted a desperate crescendo of my flailing heart and smoldering lungs.

Dad was solemn as the dead, still sitting a few feet away, his eyes an inferno of reflected flames. He didn't say anything, but he withdrew the paper bag which contained my lunch and tossed it into the fire. Blue ribbons of light danced across the open air, although I don't know whether these were a product of my oxygen starved brain or some covert substance revealing their purpose.

My body thrashed and revolted against the grasp of some unseen specter, yet my whirling consciousness stubbornly refused to abandon me. I felt my body lifted by the pressure around my neck, pitching me to and fro: a cresting ship on its last voyage. The world bled together like running paint, and the meager fire roared into cascading heights to spit sparks like a thousand falling stars.

The dizziness mounted until I couldn't tell left from right, up from down, living from dying. My legs were numb where they beat the open air; my fingers frozen where they scraped helpless against the unrelenting force. Even if I didn't pass out, it was surely only a matter of time before my neck broke. Past the point of all thoughts and prayers a persistent recollection stormed against the closing dark.

Do not go gentle into that good night...

And then another thought that was not my own, coming from within me as though my mind played puppet to its presence. A lighthouse beaming words which carved their way through the midnight of my fading mind. I was struggling again, kicking and biting and clawing at the open air. My wild lashing finally connected with something solid, but the running drool of colors flooded my vision and made it impossible to guess what held me.

Every sense, every muscle, every feral instinct begged for me to close my eyes against the nauseating tumult of color. To let go of the insurmountable force I was thrall to; to find acceptance in defeat, and peace in death. But louder than the diminishing throb of my heart were the words:

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And so I did. I swam through the sea of melting colors, fixating on the black blemish which refused to relinquish my throat. I fought back, tooth and nail sinking into yielding flesh, kicking and screaming as stale air tore through my howling lungs. I lunged after that, digging my fingers into the thing that attacked me until warm wet rivers bubbled over my hands up to the wrist. I wouldn't stop, couldn't stop, pouring all my love for the light and rage against its defiler with one unified assault.

Not until it lay still did I allow myself to fall gasping onto my back. One reluctant star at a time unraveled from the tapestry of madness to find its rightful place in the heavens. My body ached to the core, and were it not for the last utterances of my internal voice still coaxing me back to life, I would have been confident that I had died.

I didn't wake until the next morning. My first shock was that I was alive; my second that my father was not. His body had crumbled beside the ashes of his fire, deep craters gouged into his throat to match the width of my hands. I didn't understand until I had a chance to read the whole book: my unequivocal inheritance.

I wasn't the first, and I won't be the last. My family has been blessed to pursue the secret of the divine spark, and through the years our trials have brought us closer to its unveiling. The voice I heard on the edge of death is the same which inspired my ancestors to write their verse: a further puzzle piece in the enigma of creation. And when the final piece is set to place, then born again is the next God to walk this Earth.

I regret to tell you that such wisdom has exhausted all efforts toward its discovery so far. When we have given up, as my father did and his father before him, it is our place to pass the torch for the child to carry on. Until the day when he too sees his child's mind flare more brightly than his own and knows it is time for them to continue the search in his stead.

I am only writing this now because I have grown so weary of doors without handles and windows looking nowhere. I wish my father had explained this to me before I was thrust upon this quest, but I suppose he thought me too cowardly to end his life and begin my search when such an end was already written by a hundred hands.

That's why I am writing this, my son, so you can make that choice for yourself. And so armed with five centuries of verse, you will listen for that whisper at the end of all light and learn from it what you may.

Open the book, when you are ready, and your trial will begin.

This letter from my father was tucked inside a leather bound book, delivered to me the day of his funeral.

[outdoorguyuk]

Wye Boyo, Wye?

I know I keep banging on about it, but being unable to walk for a year got me itching to get out.  As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I got into climbing in a big way and have managed to do some short runs (10k and under, with a single 18k run) but I’m still not too confident my knee is fully ready for running regularly.  I’ve been dying to do a fastpacking trip, however decided that for the time being hiking, wild camping and climbing would have to do.

Deciding it’d be good to catch up with some of the Gosport boys, I sent a few invites, with Matt & Joe saying they were up for it.  Matt had recently had surgery on his knee after a split meniscus so was in a similar state to me, which was a good thing in many ways.  God we’re old.  I decided that seeing as Matt lives in Bristol and Joe’s in Gosport, the Wye Valley would be an easy place to meet & hike.  The Wye Valley is stunning, fairly wild, not too mountainous but with some lovely hills, well forested with a huge water source flowing through the middle.  Not to mention some great pubs.  Matt lives in Bristol, Joe was coming up from Gosport and me from London, so it was probably the closest location of the sort for all 3 of us.

Joe and I arranged to meet at 7pm in Chepstow and miraculously arrived 5 minutes apart which was a good omen.  We parked the cars up in a side street and decided to go for a few pints, leaving our gear in the car.  I’d scoped out the Three Tuns, a lovely pub right by Chepstow Castle with the friendliest staff, awesome local beers (very affordable too) and a great beer garden.  About 7 pints and a few rums later, the pub closed, we were turfed out and decided to get our gear and start the hike.  Obviously I’m sure you can see the potential for things to go wrong here.

Lads lads lads!  Dogs dogs dogs! Chepstow massive.

Somewhere, during the first and last drink, Joe realised that he had forgotten a minor bit of kit.  No biggie, it was only his sleeping bag, the tit.  We got to the cars to pick up our gear and he managed to find a blanket to strap to his backpack.  I probably hadn’t mentioned but Ripley my dog was also with us, and she was also super hyped for a drunk hike through the forest.

The Three Tuns - Ace boozer, ace beer, ace staff.  

I had probably over estimated how easy it would be to find somewhere to camp.  The only wide open spaces on the first many drunk kms of the hike were cow fields with grumpy looking bulls, farmers fields full of crops or a massively overgrown Offa’s Dyke Path with high fences on either side.  

The entire way Joe was roasting me as I’d been giving it the large one about my new Black Diamond Storm head torch (review to follow), as my Silva Trail Runner 2 had died after years of abuse.  The damned thing didn’t work at all and looked like I’d strapped a tea light to my head.  Luckily Ripley seemed to instinctively know to follow the trail and dragged me along safely/drunkenly in her wake.  

After many kilometres and over 3 hours, we finally found somewhere to camp in forested area, set up the tents & fired up the Primus Lite stove for a couple of drinks before bed.  I was using my trusty Coleman Raid for Ripley and me, while Joe had bought the amazingly priced (£19.99) Decathlon Arpenaz 2 man tent (which only weighs 2.2kg, great at the price).

Get off the tent Ripley.  Man’s best friend they said.  Dick.

I had an amazing night sleep, as did Ripley.  Joe suffered the entire time, which was amazing and definitely karma for him being mean about my head torch.  It turns out the blanket he picked up whilst spannered, turned out to be really thick, but really small and just about covered one of his legs.  Basking in the glow of his suffering and my comfort, I decided to have a look at my head torch and it turns out I don’t know which way batteries are supposed to go around when I’m completely munted.  The Black Diamond Storm lit up the trees like a miniature sun in my hand and all was well in the world.  I knew this was going to be a good day.

Joe, Ripley and I decided to set off without further ado, as we’d planned to meet Matt in a car park approximately halfway between Chepstow & Symond’s Yat.  We had an amazing hike, the scenery was stunning, and we got to see a few of the climbing areas around Ban-y-Gor, Wintour’s Leap & Tintern Quarry.  We even found a place called the Devil’s Pulpit and after Googling it, this turns out to just be a square rock on the footpath, but we assumed it was the tree that seemed to have turned into a giant rock with some sort of weird pagan clearing & steps vibe going on right behind us.   

Feeling Cute. Might do a sacrifice and delete later.

Being the planner I am, I’d decided that a mid morning stop at a boozer with maybe something for the hair of the dog and a bite to eat might be in order.  The Brockweir Country Inn was at a good point on our route and looked stunning.  Unfortunately, when we got there, they had lynched a hiker from the top window and the man scouring the brickwork in a painstaking effort to bring the pub back to its former glory, informed Joe that it was closed for the first time in 400 years.  Just our bloody luck.  The next boozer was miles along the hike if we didn’t want to take a huge detour.  Still, the chap was kind enough to fill up my backpack bladder, so onwards and upwards.

The valleys are dark, the hills have eyes #lynching

Following on from Brockweir, most of the steep inclines and declines were behind us and the Offa’s Dyke trail opened up some stunning & picturesque wide open views as we hiked along the riverside.  Our progress was much faster unimpeded by hills and we made good time before stopping for lunch at Bigsweir Bridge.  Joe and I cracked open our freeze dried foods, fired up the ridiculously fast Primus Lite stove (seriously, this thing is ace) and chowed down.  I also took pleasure in pointing out that my 1000kcal Expedition Foods were not only tastier, but considerably better value for money than the Decathlon 600kcal packs.  We didn’t give ourselves much time to eat as Matt was due at the Cadora Woods car park just up the road and we realized we didn’t have any reception at all. 

Lunch at Bigsweir with the Primus Lite stove!  My Expedition Foods are bigger than yours, and I’m like...

Miraculously, we got to the car park (only 20 minutes late), sat down for 5 minutes and panicked a bit trying to work out how to get a hold of Matt, when he rocked up in his car.  Thank God.  With the team assembled we took stock of our situation - having realised that there was a hog roast and mini beer festival with local bands in Redbrook (we saw an advert on the bridge a mile earlier) it was obviously something we couldn’t miss, however it was still quite a hike there.  If we were going to spend any meaningful time there, we decided it’d be best for us to skip a leg of the trail, head there in Matt’s car and leave it there so we had transport closer to Symonds Yat.  Fate was on our side.

Gspot Squad all up in your hogroast!

Arriving in Redbrook, we were a bit disappointed to see that the festival appeared to be predominantly populated by small children.  I’m ok with this when I’ve got mine with me, but looks a bit weird when you don’t.  Still, after we’d parked up and got some stuff from the village shop, the number of adults had increased so we dived right in.  Local beers were on tap for an amazing £2.50 a pint from a local brewery.  The bands were good, people were lovely and it was too tempting to stay, but we had a mission to complete and wanted to get some climbing along the way, so we decided to get our skates on and head uphill into the forest.

The last thing Matt’s victims saw

The trek through the forest towards Symonds Yat turned out to be considerably more steep than we expected.  Perhaps it was having had a few beers in the sun, but it was a bit of a shock.  It shouldn’t be, as I can read a map, but I’m an optimist and often suffer as a result.

We followed the official border between England and Wales, having departed from Offa’s Dyke (the old border) and were rewarded by some truly stunning views.  I had hoped to visit Rodge Wood along the way where (I found on the amazing UKClimbing site) there was apparently some good bouldering, but we somehow missed it and decided to carry on.  Continuing along the border, we continued our search for the famous Suckstone (jokes ahoy, boom boom).  The suckstone is apparently the UK’s biggest boulder and it didn’t disappoint.  Walking along the path, we spotted it jutting out amongst the fronds and Ripley shot off to investigate.

The sight of the famed Suckstone from the trail! #winning

One side of the Suckstone is a head height overhang, whilst the other side is a huge slab.  Apparently it had been cleaned a few years ago, but unfortunately it was completely covered in moss, making climbing it a little tricky.  There are some really nice routes with little crimpy holds, a nice side arete route, and some cracks too.  When cleaned I imagine it’d be a nice place to spend a good afternoon climbing but things felt a bit hairy with moss crumbling off the wall on every hand and foot holds.  

Posted again, for extra ego - The suckstone.  Not nearly as dramatic as this photo suggests but don’t tell anyone.

Further up from the Suckstone is Hearkening Rock, which looked better for trad and top roping so we had a little scout around but as things were getting late, we headed on towards Symonds Yat.

The route was pretty steep and downhill, with our quads really taking the brunt of it.  With all 3 of us old men having shot knees (mine from smashing it up skateboarding, Joe from the Brecon Beacons fastpacking trip and Matt from Basketball) things got punishing but we pushed on.  At the bottom of the hill, we found a nifty rope bridge leading to a scout camp at Biblins Cave and followed the trail around to Symonds Yat.

Symonds Yat is quite a strange place.  It’s a bit hobbity with everyone living by the river on steep hillsides, with little rope pulley boats to take you from pub to pub on either side of the river.  Absolutely amazing - boat pub crawl ahoy!  Except we’d finally arrived there at 10pm so only had an hour and a half to sink a few at Ye Old Ferrie Inn rather and cross the river to try the Saracen’s head in the morning.  As to be expected, we arrived 3 minutes after the chef had closed down the kitchen so the pub were kind enough to let us crank up the Primus Lite stove and get some Expedition Food packs down us (mine is bigger than Joe’s #1000k4TW).  

Wolfing down as many pints as we could cope with (they had amazing beers there) we decided to hike back up the extremely steep hill that Symonds Yat West is based on and find somewhere to camp.  Brutalised by the climb, we arrived at camp stone cold sober and crashed out.

Dog Pillow

We had a great night’s sleep (even Joe seeing as Matt had brought him a sleeping bag) and when Ripley and I woke to get out of the tent, we were confronted by a scene that looked like Jurassic Park.  There were giant fronds everywhere, with a huge cliff face surrounding us that we hadn’t managed to notice, even with the sun like beam of my new Black Diamond Storm head torch.  It turns out that we had inadvertently camped in the middle of Bailey Quarry without realising - what a stroke of luck!

After packing up the tents, we decided to have a bit of a climb.  Bailey Quarry has got a number of fantastic trad routes of varying grades, but as we didn’t have any kit beyond shoes, we decided to have a bit of fun soloing the routes up as far as we were comfortable.  It’d be cool to come back and try these top roping which we’re planning to do later in the year.

Heading off back down the hill, we reached the rope ferry and crossed over to the Saracen’s Head pub to get a bit of mid morning lunch.  We didn’t want to spend too long here (despite the pub, food, beer and view being second to none) as we were pushed for time and wanted to check out some of the bouldering up the hill in Symonds Yat proper, with still having quite a long hike back to the car in Redhook, so we stuffed down a meal and a pint before heading off.

The hike up the hill was steep but not too far, although some of the road hiking was a little hairy.  We got back on the trail and wandered around, managing to find a few of the cliffs and some boulders probably a bit above our pay grade.

Despite having two climbing guides, an OS map and GPS on our phones, we struggled to find the boulders we were looking for.  Perhaps because we were exhausted, perhaps because we’re useless, or perhaps because we were becoming aware of how short on time we were for the 4 hour hike back to Matt’s car followed by a 30 minute drive back to ours, with a 3:30 drive back to London on the end, we decided to call it a day and start the trek home.

The trek back to the car was probably a bit more arduous than we were expecting.  

4 hours later we got to Monmouth and 20 metres from the boozer (of course, a quick pint was necessary) Ripley dropped into a fur puddle on the floor and refused to move.  To be fair she’d probably done around 40 miles and hadn’t complained once so fair game.  Upon entering the pub and enquiring about taxis, a fella named John at the bar was kind enough to offer us a lift so I put some money (which he had refused) behind the bar for him and we headed off to Redhook.

Rippers, doing the butterfly chicken, I’m not moving another inch pose.

All in all, it was an amazing weekend with the lads and I’m looking forward to more again soon.  TBC!

[carlsonknives]

GLAMPING | A Relaxing Stay In A Cosy Shepherd’s Hut at Castle Farm Holidays, Shropshire

Where did we go?

Castle Farm Holidays Shropshire Dudleston Ellesmere Shropshire SY12 9EF

Tel: 01691 690801 Email:info@castlefarmholidaysshropshire.co.uk Prices: From £55.00 per night, per glamping pod

Our stay

I set off after work on Friday evening looking forwards to a restful weekend and some quality time spent outdoors. Located in Shropshire, close to the Welsh border, Castle Farm Holidays is only a 50 drive from the office and it was still light when I set off, with a welcome hint of Spring in the air.

The drive through the Cheshire, then Shropshire countryside was a delight and I arrived just before 6:30 and was met by friendly owner Helen, who walked me up to Bluebell shepherd’s hut and gave me a rundown of the site facilities.

This was my first ever stay in a Shepherd’s hut and it was a fabulous experience. Bluebell is located at the far end of the glamping field, where 4 other glamping pods are located, one of them with its own secluded hot tub.

Bluebell sleeps up to 4 people on a double bed and a pull-out sofa bed. Inside there’s also a pull out table and chairs and a mini kitchen area which includes a kettle, toaster, microwave and fridge. Crockery is supplied, but not cutlery and I’d recommend taking a washing up bowl with you to easily transport used crockery to the washing up facilities at the other side of the field.

Outside there’s a cute little covered veranda, ideal for storing your muddy walking boots and beside the Shepherd’s hut there’s a picnic bench, ideal for al fresco dining in the summer.

Good morning world!

The Shepherd’s hut is very well insulated and I found it warm and cosy. There’s an electric fire and a fan heater too so whatever the weather, you won’t be cold! The rural location makes for a truly peaceful stay and I enjoyed two very restful nights of sleep, waking up to gorgeous views and the sound of birdsong.

Site facilities

As well as Bluebell Shepherd’s hut, there are also 4 pods on site as well as 2 cottages. There’s a lovely timber building which houses the men’s and ladies toilet and shower facilities as well as a washing up area (complete with fridge and washing machine), and there’s also a cosy sitting room for guests, well worth popping into as it’s packed full of information on the local area and it makes the ideal communal area in bad weather.

The 4 glamping pods, 1 with private hot tub and Bluebell Shepherd’s hut at the far end

There’s plenty of space for kids to run around safely and there’s a second secure field ideal for ball games and in the summer there’s things like table tennis to keep the kids entertained too. There’s free WiFi across the site and despite the rural location, I had a full phone signal too.

The local area

Last time I was in the region I picked up a signed copy of the brilliant Wild Guide To Wales and the Marches (which also covered the area I was staying in this time), so I took it along with me and decided that Castell Dinas Brân (Crow Castle) looked like a good bet for the Saturday.

On Saturday morning at 8am I awoke after a wonderfully deep sleep (the bed inside Bluebell is big and very comfortable), made a quick breakfast and headed towards Llangollen. By 9am I was parked up beside the river, with the remains of the medieval castle towering above. I chose the riverside long-stay car park which cost just £3 for a full day, popped on my hiking boots and backpack and started the steep climb up to the castle.

If you’re going to do this walk, make sure you’ve got good footwear on as part of the ascent is really steep and depending on the final approach you choose, you might need to do a bit of scrambling on the way back down.

The weather was glorious, a perfect early spring day with plenty of sunshine and when I reached the castle there were only a handful of other people up there so I hung around for a while exploring and taking in the amazing scenery; well worth the effort to reach it.

On the way back down I stopped at LLangollen Wharf (I can thoroughly recommend the vegetarian breakfast at the tea room!) and noticed horse-drawn canal boat trips, so straight after breakfast I hopped onto a canal boat for a relaxing slow meander down the canal in the sunshine, pulled by Hercules one of their two beautiful working horses.

The verdict

The Shepherd’s hut is spacious, warm and cosy with a wonderfully comfortable bed and the accommodation and facilities are spotlessly clean. The site itself is beautiful and very peaceful, so if it’s a rural idyll your seeking Castle Farm Holidays won’t disappoint.

The site is just as suitable for a romantic couples glamping weekend away as it is for a family holiday, and there’s even the option of hiring the whole site for larger groups of family or friends. Castle Farm Holidays provide a comfortable range of accommodation options with something to suit all budgets and with so much to do just a short drive away, it’s a fabulous location for a short break though there’s more than enough to do close by to keep you occupied for a whole week! To find out more, visit Castle Farm Holidays Shropshire.

Thank you to Castle Farm Holidays who invited us to stay. We were not paid to write this review and everything reflects our own opinions on our stay.

The post GLAMPING | A Relaxing Stay In A Cosy Shepherd’s Hut at Castle Farm Holidays, Shropshire appeared first on Camping with Style Camping Blog | Active Outdoors Travel & Glamping.

Original Source http://www.campingwithstyle.co.uk/glamping-a-relaxing-stay-in-a-cosy-shepherds-hut-at-castle-farm-holidays-shropshire/ For the best knives to use whilst camping check out Carlson Knives http://www.carlsonknives.com/

[marriagebase]

Mountains And Storms: My Adventure in Patagonia

“There are still places in the world that you can go and experience absolute silence. Stillness of nature.”

My last actual holiday (outside of work) was back in New Zealand. All too often I find myself dreaming of the mountains and craving that feeling of standing on the edge of the world, most likely with tear-stained cheeks. It is hard to disconnect from work and take a ‘holiday.’ It is hard to consciously make a decision to put my camera down and separate the two, to allow myself to just be. I’ve spent countless hours over the years photographing this sublime world. Often choosing adventure filled destinations where I simply couldn’t just leave my camera behind. And so, the cycle continues.

I remember last year, I was standing with my friend Will Patino in Port Macquarie in New South Wales, Australia. We were on a job together and in the midst of one of our many deep life chats. Will told me about his upcoming solo trip to Patagonia to scout for one of his workshops. Before he even finished saying the words, I interrupted with ‘I REALLY WANNA GO THERE!’  Patagonia: a dream destination for me. That ‘why don’t you just come to the workshop?’ conversation turned into me packing my bags less than a year later and leaving with two people I consider my dear friends, work colleagues and some of the people I admire most in this world, Will and Lauren Bath. But nothing could have really prepared me for the adventure, or rollercoaster, that was my trip to Patagonia…

  First stop was Buenos Aires, otherwise known as BA, and considered the gateway to South America. Lauren and I left the Gold Coast, boarded via Brisbane, onwards to Auckland and made the final route to BA with Air New Zealand’s business class.  I love Air New Zealand as an airline and experiencing business class felt like a real treat and the beginning of a real holiday. For all the traveling I do with my job, I never fly business and it was nice to arrive in a country and feel rested, at least until the onset of jet-lagged knocked us all around. I’ve been to Buenos Aires before on my way to Columbia, but it was a stopover and not somewhere I had a chance to explore. I’ve written so many times how I am not a city girl, but honestly BA surprised me.

After a few days of incredible food, nightlife and the occasional nigh time tango, it was time for us to move onto our final destination. Our time in BA alone was worth the trip alone, however the adventure was just beginning….

We caught our flight from BA to El Calafate. I couldn’t sleep the night before, likely still jet-lagged, but mostly excited. I had my head stuck to the window the entire plane flight (sit on the right hand side going down) as the tears literally rolled down my cheeks at my first glimpse of the Patagonian Andes piercing through the thick layer of clouds. I couldn’t believe my eyes at the turquoise blue of the glacial water. The scale here, from the sky, was expansive.

When picking up the car that Will had hired for the next 10 days of adventure I was dancing around in the car park, freezing already but unable to control every particle inside me screaming and moving for joy.

P A T A G O N I A.

South America’s Gem; an undiscovered paradise for adventurous trekkers. Where nature is wild, remote, barren. Space so expanding, that silence engulfs it.

After a night in the cute little town of El Calafate, our epic crew ( Will, Lauren, Davey, Ben, Grace, Nick) set off around 3am, bleary-eyed and yet still hopeful Patagonia’s notorious weather would hold out.

After the three hour drive, I found myself away from the group, standing alone at the top of the road towards El Chaltén, literally almost getting blown over by the sheer force of the Patagonian wind, left speechless by the explosion of pink in the sky as the sun rose behind me. Facing the towering granite peaks of the Patagonian Andes with my heart exploding, I caught my first, very brief glimpse of Mt Fitz Roy before the clouds swallowed it up.

Little did I know that would be the first and only glimpse of the infamous peaks that soar over El Chaltén.

I was prepared for all the elements. But I wasn’t prepared for this…

The worst window of weather in 7 years.

Some of the most beautiful mountains in the world, the most vast, incredible landscapes, those iconic mountains I’d grown up dreaming of, the vibrant turning autumn colours were all just out of reach. The roads were flooded and closed, although we tried a few hikes despite the weather, the chill got into our bones and our clothes soaking wet.

Disheartened. Devastated. Discouraged.

We left the town of El Chaltén without so much as unrolling our sleeping mats, my camping food uneaten, my tent still inside my suitcase – completely dry….

Photographically speaking, I’ve crafted a life by making sure I was in the right place at the right time, and I’d dreamed of visiting this place since I first laid eyes on an image of it. That image was burning in the back of my brain as I stood exactly where it was created and could not see a single thing. There were tears, but of frustration this time. For two weeks leading up to this trip, I was looking at stories being shared of picture perfect weather, so this felt like some sort of cosmic message, a form of universal rejection.

It was another lesson on letting go. I firmly believe that expectation is the root of all evil. If you can learn to let go and leave your expectations behind, that is when the real adventure starts. No this wasn’t what I pictured, it wasn’t even close to what I dreamed of, but I was happy. What a privilege it is to have the ability to travel and explore a new country, to open yourself up to new enriching experiences and create lifelong memories with new hearts.

Travel is about the experiences, about finding a shift in your perspective and stepping outside of your comfort zone. Although what I came to Patagonia for did not eventuate in full, it is not all doom and gloom.

The picture I just painted through my disappointment in the circumstances, and the emotional rollercoaster that was brewing in my heart and mind, is not the only story of our trip. I often ponder the detriments of social media’s highlight reel and how I may contribute to only sharing the final or “hero” images, as always I want to be transparent about all emotions – about the life of one that is on the road.

That week I met some of my idols. I was in a small town with world class photographers and there were only a few cafes and restaurants open (due to shoulder season) so I ended up at the same places, sharing meals and sitting with the same glass of Malbec. These very photographers paved the way to do what I do and I have spent countless hours pouring over their work, studying and learning from them and now I was there, in real life, having a conversation (about the weather) with them.  Wow!

We were a determined group and spent our days attempting to trek in the rain. Even in thick overcast weather the autumn leaves still burned so irresistibly vibrant, we saw Canyon Falls rushing and when it began snowing around us it felt like we were in some kind of wonderland.  How lucky we were to be there. Just to spend hours waiting in the cold for the smallest window and chance to see an opening in the sky. I’ll never take the sky for granted again, and I didn’t realize I ever had until this experience.

And yet, still the story was far from over..

Upon arrival at the breath-taking Perito Moreno Glacier we were greeted by the thundering echo of a chunk of the electric blue glacial tongue breaking off the 70m face, crumbling and plummeting down causing waves bigger than 20m below. Right place, right time? I think we just found it.

The tears were frozen to my cheeks. I wore a smile that spanned from one ear to another. We all stood together in disbelief, simultaneously exclaiming a series of “WOAH” whilst holding onto our heads, hearts and each other. The significance of this moment I will remember forever.

* For those interested in some nature froth: The Perito Moreno Glacier is in a state of equilibrium meaning it’s advancing as fast as it’s declining. This ice field is the third largest reserve of fresh water in the world (only 3 % of all water on our planet is fresh). Glaciers are a climate regulator, which means they keep our beautiful planet cool by reflecting back 45 to 85 percent of the sunlight.

From here we leaned forward to the next crazy adventure and began driving the 6 hours south towards Chile, where it felt as though our luck had started to change before our very eyes.

Crossing through the border security was an event, or interesting spectacle, with seven photographers all carrying a camera bag and suitcase each. However, as we stepped foot into my 30th country I recall feeling an overwhelming sense of immense gratitude. I had unintentionally made it to 30 countries before turning 30. Over the years I have worked really hard, sacrificed a lot and have been incredible lucky at the same time. I wrote an Instagram story thanking those of you who follow my journey (and my little feet) around the world. I truly feel so grateful for you.

Good road-trips often evoke buried emotions; I was deep in thought contemplating life and why I do what I do despite the loneliness, sleeplessness and stress at times. There is of course the undeniable connection with nature and love of sharing the beauty of the natural world. Deep in thoughts of the full circle of nature to our very existence, wandering down into the life I have created through photography and the interplay with seeking the light – for even on the gloomiest of days there is light. And then, there it was – the light – towering before me in all its ancient wild and rugged glory; the Patagonia Andes of Torres Del Paine National Park.

A simple reminder, a gentle nudge from the universe that we travel for more than just photography. It is all about those moments that take your breath away.

I am left, again, feeling breathless, humbled.

    This is everything I ever dreamed of.  Writing this right now sends a shiver up my spine as my body erupts in goosebumps thinking of those majestic glaciers and mysteriously carved mountains, which were formed over 12 million years ago. It felt like it would be completely natural to see a dinosaur stroll past me (of the herbivore kind of course!)

The emptiness was impressive, those jagged peaks and the ruthless terrain, pristine turquoise rivers; I was worlds away from anything I have ever known and I couldn’t have been more captivated.

I’ll forever cherish the memories of us here watching the sunset together by the edge of the lake, trekking by star light and opening up to the most unexplainable beauty I have ever seen. Beauty that can only be seen with the eye and felt with the heart.

Those days consumed me. Everywhere I looked was something larger than life, be it in the smile of a stranger along the path, the waterfalls, the autumn flora, the cheekiness of the infamous locals Guanaco (Chilean Alpacas) or just me feeling so small beneath the most dramatic scenes on the planet.

The Three Towers hike will remain a mental and physical challenge that I proudly accomplished. Due to the weather, this trail only opened for one day in the 3 weeks prior, so we slept under the stars and woke up at 3:30am to take the chance for sunrise. An 18km return hike and 4 hr steep incline was among the most challenging hikes of my life. It was my first snow hike and at times I was falling into waste deep snow, laughing hysterically, cold and soaking wet. But we made it and right on sunrise.

Looking back now I’m still speechless, the scale of what I witnessed is indescribable. Those three striking granite Towers above the glacial lake are higher than two of the tallest buildings in the world stacked on top of each other.

It changed me.

  When I really fall in love with a place, I struggle to look at the photos…for months. I feel like I will never be able do something so beautiful justice. I struggle to write about it, or even to collect my thoughts. How do you capture the way your heart feels like it’s going to burst through your chest? To put emotions into a single image? How does one convey the feeling when your eyes become wide, child-like, and fill up with tears that don’t break, as your smile is frozen breathlessly across your face and your legs are quivering, burning so deeply, but every part of your being is SO alive.

Travel turns you into a storyteller. It opens your heart and mind in more ways than one. It invites you to seek the beauty, find the light and never let go of hope.

To me, it’s a chance to learn about yourself, who you are and what you want from life. It allows you to see how different the world is and to put your life in perspective. When you remove yourself from your life back home, you’re able to take time to reflect and see things in your life a little differently.

Going to leave you with my favourite quote – “To live is the rarest thing in the world Most people exist that is all “ – Oscar Wilde

Don’t stop dreaming, don’t stop exploring. Don’t stop living.

A version of this blog post originally appeared on Melissa Findley’s website. 

Follow Melissa Findley on her Instagram and Facebook. 

  The post Mountains And Storms: My Adventure in Patagonia appeared first on Resource.

[travelling-trooper-blog]

First up on the agenda in Melbourne: The Immigration Museum. Melbourne has loads of really cool museum, but this was the one I was most excited about. It tells the story of how Melbourne came to be the multicultural gem that it is today by sharing the personal stories and experiences of the immigrants themselves.

Like May Vale, for example, whose parents were English migrants. Vale was one of Australia’s first female professional artists. Over the years, she went back and forth between London and Melbourne, but ultimately, she said, “I know my London well. I have lived there in all over ten years. But, as you see, I always return to Melbourne.”

In Melbourne, she was a founder and councillor of the Yarra Scultpors’ Society, as well as the councillor of the Victorian Artists Society.

Then there’s the Azzola family from Italy. The husband and wife sailed to Melbourne and made a life for themselves here that they never could have afforded back home. Edda Azzola even went on to become a big name in the fashion industry here.

Youssef came over from Lebanon with his family and started a successful taxi company with his brother.

In 2009, Nickel and Gertrude had their refugee claim accepted. After a harrowing several years trying to escape the DRC, they finally made a safe and happy life for themselves in Melbourne.

John Christie came over from Scotland back in 1863 and went on to become a badass detective. He would go undercover using various disguises to nab the bad guys. However, like much of Australia back in the day, he had a big racist streak to him. Just as the “War on Drugs” today targets African Americans, Christie went on a conquest to target opium smugglers to ramp up anti-Chinese racism–this, even though opium was totally legal in Australia, was sold over the counter, and was an important part of government revenue thanks t customs taxes.

I love that this place is so proud of its immigrant history that it has dedicated an entire museum to immigration. Sure, not all of its history is pretty, but this museum acknowledges that there would be no Australia without immigrants, and that’s a pretty big deal. They are an integral part of the nation’s DNA.  Those nationalist iditos at the White House and the fools behind Brexit could learn a thing or two from Australia.

Oh wait, the English are the ones who sent their hardened “criminals” here in the first place. (More often than not, their crimes were very minor, like stealing a loaf of bread.) The first batch was brought over to New South Wales in 1788. And the only reason they did so was because after losing the United States, they figured they should colonize Australia before Japan could sink their hands into it.

One legendary convict was William Buckley. He managed to escape, and was thought to be dead. Officers figured he couldn’t last out in the wild on his own. He ended up taking shelter among the Wathaurong people for just over 30 years. He found a walking stick that had belonged to one of their elders. When they found him in possession of the stick, they believed him to be the reincarnation of their elder. He ran with this for over thirty years. Good for him.

Another white man that duped the Aboriginals was John Batman. Batman signed a treaty with Aboriginals in the Port Phillip area and gained 250, 000 hectares of land for things like utensils and blankets. Government officials in Sydney declared this treaty invalid, since Batman didn’t have the legal rights to make such a deal. He ended up getting a pretty sweet land deal later on though. As usual, white man prevails.

In the end, Australia almost ended up being called Batmania. And while that is an AWESOME name, I’m glad they didn’t go with it. Batman seems like he was a dick.

Not only does the museum tell the personal story of migrants, though; it also tells the overall story of Australia’s growth as a country. For example, at the start of the 1850s, Victoria was declared a separate colony JUST before gold is discovered in Melbourne, leaving Sydney out in the cold. They also started charging a tax for Chinese immigrants AND they stopped bringing in immigrants from England. Victoria be ruthless.

Thankfully, they came to their senses the following decade. Anti-Chinese legislation was repealed, and Australia quit the “civilise and Christianise” game with Aborigines.

The origins of Chinese immigration to Australia is pretty tragic. They started coming over as cheap labour during the gold rush after England stopped sending over convicts in 1840.

Few were able to pay for their own voyage. Instead, village elders and families took out loans through shipping agents because they believed these young men would be raking in the dough once they got to Australia and that they’d be able to pay off their loans in no time. The men believed they’d be able to come back with enough money to build temples, homes, and schools for their villages. The truth was that they were getting exploited. The only way they could pay back the loan was through gold or labour. If they couldn’t pay back the loan, their families could be sold off as labourers as well.

The reaction by locals was pretty predictable. To quote South Park: “Dey tuk ar jarbs!” There were riots, and the government ended up limiting the number of Chinese migrants allowed into the country. And to avoid hefty head taxes at the Victorian ports, ships ended up dropping migrants off in southern Australia, leaving them to hike brutal 700 km to the gold fields. Those who couldn’t afford to pay the one pound tax were literally thrown into the water with their belongings.

Even among the Chinese immigrants themselves there was division, as there were conflicts between certain ethnic groups.

Those who fell ill during the voyage were treated by volunteers, since the Australian government didn’t want to spend money on the Chinese workers.

In the end these brave young men achieved varying level of success. Some returned home very prosperous; others never returned home because they couldn’t afford the return passage; some married European women and made a life for themselves in Australia.

But then China got put back on Australia’s bad books in the 80s, and Chinese immigration was put on lock down.

By the 90s, the gold rush has come and gone, and an economic depression hits. And where does the blame go? The immigrants, of course. One particular policy is passed that allows companies to be inspected to see if they employ Chinese workers. Any furniture made by Chinese hands must be stamped to indicate so.

Things became even worse after Federation in 1901. A national dictation test was introduced to make it difficult for non-British immigrants to migrate over. For example, a Greek person could be given the test in Gaelic. If they failed, they couldn’t enter the country.

Over the years, the racially-charged politics and policies have come and gone and come and gone again. I mean, fast forward, and there has been some level of anti-immigration rhetoric floating around since the mid-1980s. It’s gained momentum over the years, though. The One Nation party, which is proudly anti-Islam and anti-multiculturalism in general, won 4 Senate seats in 2016.

There is also some sort of offshore camp where unauthorized immigrants and refugees are indefinitely held in limbo on the islands of Nauru and Manus. Most of these asylum seekers are from the Middle East and Africa.

However, this is not how all Australians feel. Multiculturalism is embraced and welcomed here. Australia celebrates the food, heritage, and culture of all of its people.

Apparently in 2016, the US and Australia made a deal in which the US would take 1200 of Australia’s refugees, while Australia would take asylum seekers who were looking for a new home in the US. Most of these were from Central America. Not sure what the point is there. A refugee is a refugee no matter where they come from.

One of my favourite features in the museum was an interactive activity. You acted as an immigration officer and had to decide whether a family or applicant would have been approved or declined back in the day based on answers they gave in a video interview. The one I saw featured a jolly Greek man, his wife who spoke no English and kept rambling on and pleading with the officer, and their little daughter. It was really well done.

The last place I checked out before leaving this inspiring place was an exhibit that looked at the complexities of the immigrant identity–your name, your looks, the first impression you leave on others, etc.

There were some fantastic quotes from individuals that I could relate to on varying levels:

“As an adolescent growing up, my name caused me great embarrassment and I hated anything that was Asian. How I wished to be Mary Smith.”

Story of my life. As my friends and family know, I hated that bitch of a Disney mermaid growing up because of the similarity between our names. Kids can be so cruel…

It wasn’t until I got older and I learned that my name translates to Angel of Light that I came to appreciate my name. But even so, it’s a Biblical name, and I’m not really the biggest fan of the Bible and religion in general for reasons that I don’t feel like going into at this very moment. So there’s this uncomfortable connection between me and the very thing that makes me ME–my name.

I think that’s probably why I prefer to go by Uri. Well, that, and I eventually got tired of people butchering my name. But even Uri technically isn’t really accurate–at least, not the way most people pronounce it. In Spanish, my name is pronounced Oo-ree-el, meaning that the shortened version should be pronounced Oo-ree–but everybody outside of my family and our awesome neighbours calls me Yuri.

I’ll admit that this is my own fault. When I first decided to go by the shortened version, which is what my mother has always called me, Oo-ree sounded a bit goofy to me–at least, when it came out of anybody’s mouth except my family’s. I was embarrassed by how it sounded. So I gave it a Eurocentric twist and changed it to Yuri. It made sense because people always pronounced my full name Yuriel anyway. Now I’m 33 years old, and I feel like it’s a bit late to start asking everybody to call me Oo-ree.

Agh! It’s so complicated!

“I looked quite normal, I sounded like everyone else, but I had a surname which no one could ever pronounce.”

Nobody in school ever looked like me. I could name all of the Spanish speaking people I ever went to school with all the way back to Kindergarten. Grade 2: Monica and Javier. Grade 6: Isaac and Luis. Grade 9: Oscar. University: Betsabe. That’s the whole reason I decided to stop speaking Spanish once I started school–if I couldn’t look like everybody else, I at least wanted to sound like everybody else.

“I’m Joanita Da Silva or Joanita Barbosa Muniz Da Silva in full. My full name includes my god-father’s family name, my mother’s family name, and my father’s family name.”

I’m Uriel Eduardo Mendoza Ulloa. My full name includes my father’s first name and family name and my mother’s family name.

“When I look in the mirror I don’t see what other people see. I’m just Sherene. But when I meet people for the first time, they look at me differently–and the questions begin.”

This one I’m okay with. I like being asked where I’m from. I like sharing my family’s story. I’m proud of our journey and my own personal journey of acceptance of my cultural identity. I’m a proud Nicaraguan Canadian with Nicaraguan blood and a Canadian heart. In the future, as immigrant cultures mix more and more, these stories are going to become more and more complex and more and more beautiful. I think the questions are the spark to a powerful conversation.

“Even if I claim Australian citizenship people will insist on my being Chinese unless I can rip this face of its Chinese skin and replace it with something else, anything else but Chinese. Physically, though, I can’t.”

“‘But you don’t look like a Muslum’ would be the most common response. Do I look like a Christian then? Are we supposed to look our religion? I prefer to look like myself.”

These two are connected as far as I’m concerned. I was once asked by a guy in Korea where I was from. When I told him I was from Canada, he gave me a puzzled look and said, “But you don’t look Canadian.” So in his mind, a Canadian must be white. This one still irks me. Like I said, I’m proud of my Canadian-ness, so it hurts if somebody accuses me of not being “Canadian” enough. There’s no such thing as a typical Canadian.

Okay, tired of the Immigration Museum? Let’s move on to the Australian Centre for the Moving Image, otherwise known as the ACMI Museum. It tells the story of the moving image, from a slide projector in the 17th century to video games like Minecraft and Super Mario Brothers today.

In the mid-17th century, a Jesuit priest by the name of Athanasius Kircher was one of the first to use a slide projector called the Magic Lantern. He used it to project religious and supernatural scenes.

A century later, entertainers used it to project images of things like severed heads and spirits floating in smoke. These shows were called phantasmagoria.

Apparently France was quite fond of puppet shows like this one in the 19th century.

Remember when you were a kid and you’d make a little flipbook animation scene? That’s basically what this does. This one is from Belgium in the 19th century.

On December 28, 1895, 33 viewers were treated to the first moving image shown in a popular cafe in Paris. Imagine seeing a moving image onscreen for the first time. The closest I can think of to that experience would be the first time I saw the Matrix in theatres. My mind was still in shock the entire drive home, trying to make sense of what it had just seen. Talk about a game changer!

The Story of the Kelly Gang is arguably one of the first feature length films ever made. In 1906, most films ran about 12 minutes long. This film ran over an hour. It was obviously a huge gamble on the part of the movie studio, but it paid off. It cost them 1000 pounds, and earned them a whopping 25000 pounds. This marked the beginning of a huge film boom in Australia. The movie tells of the notorious Kelly Gang outlaws of Australia. Ned Kelly was Australia’s Robin Hood. They came under fire when they killed a few officers though.

I had no idea that Felix the Cat was Australian! He was invented by an Australian chap named Pat Sullivan in 1917.

The Golden Age of Hollywood ran until the late 1940s. This period was marked with big movie star names, huge productions, and lavish sets.

Religion had to come in and ruin all of the fun, though, by pressuring Hollywood to clean up its act in the early 30s. First, studios agreed to adopt a set of rules that stated:

The more intimate parts of the human body are the male and female organs and the breasts of a woman. – They should never be uncovered. – They should not be covered with transparent or translucent material. – They should not be clearly and unmistakably outlined by the garment.”

While these rules were not really adhered to at first, by 1934, the Catholic Legion of Decency (REALLY?) forced Hollywood to adopt what we now know as the MPAA rating system.

Two things brought about the end of this magical period. One was the Paramount Decree. In 1948, the Supreme Court ruled that the movie studios had too much control of the industry because they could produce and promote their own movies in their own cinema houses, so they had to sell off these cinemas.

The other development was the invention of the television. Television arrived in Australia in 1956, just in time for the Olympics. But it only arrived in Melbourne and Sydney, since only they had stations. Places further out didn’t get television until much later. For example, it didn’t arrive in Darwin until 1971. 1971! That’s only six years before the first Star Wars was released! And speaking of Star Wars…

This is art.

But back to cinema for a second.

Cinemas in Australia weren’t desegregated until 1967, thanks in large part to Indigenous activist groups like the Freedom Riders, who bought tickets to the whites-only section in protest. Their refusal into the cinema and subsequent arrests were broadcasted on news channels around the country.

The ladies in Australia have also been holding it down since the 70s. The Women’s Movement was a grassroots effort that addressed issues like harassment and unequal pay by making films to raise awareness and spark discussions. (How is it that almost half a decade on, these problems still persist?)

This led to the Sydney Women’s Film Group, which produced, distributed, and exhibited women’s films throughout the 70s and 80s. They also lobbied the government for funding and training for female filmmakers. This eventually all led to the establishment of the Women’s Film Fund.

Pretty awesome, Australia!

The rest of the exhibit talked about the introduction of things like colour TV, the VCR, video games, and the digital age.

Yes, that is Jackie Chan dressed as Chun Li. Why I have never seen this movie, I have no idea.

Sadly, we missed the Alice in Wonderland exhibit by a month. It’ll be opening next month.

We left the museum just in time to meet up with Josue, a guy I met in Egypt a couple years ago. He’s now living in Melbourne at the moment. We met up for lunch and walked around downtown Melbourne for a while, catching up on the last two years.

Our walk ended back at Federation Square where we had met. We asked a woman if she wouldn’t mind taking our picture. She seemed confused by this request. “Why?” she asked.

We were confused by HER question. “Because we want a picture together…?”

“Alright. Let me put my hoodie up first.”

“……….?”

She then posed really awkwardly and uncomfortably, waiting for the shot.

“No, no, no, no, no! We want YOU to take OUR picture!”

*Everybody laughs*

And this is the crappy picture that resulted.

Overall, though, not a bad first day of exploring Melbourne. Tomorrow’s adventure would include a free walking tour.

The Travelling Trooper Explores A Couple Of Melbourne’s Many Museums First up on the agenda in Melbourne: The Immigration Museum. Melbourne has loads of really cool museum, but this was the one I was most excited about.

[justforustravel-blog]

20 tips for a comfortable Camp - #Camp, #Camping, #CampingHoliday, #ComfortableCamp, #PharmacyCamp, #SleepingBag

New Post has been published on http://justforustravel.com/2017/10/18/20-tips-for-a-comfortable-camp/

20 tips for a comfortable Camp

Everyone want to go camping, should do, I think everyone should live the experience of nature. Inexperience or incorrect information from the area but some are separated by cursing from the end of camp, where others thinks of it next time and going camping holiday or coming to the same place. These tips will assist you with you here’s a good camp.

the camp vs the comfort of the comfort of your home

Yes, definitely keep this in mind when I go to the first camp, always the best terms even if you do, you won’t find camping with the comfort of your home. If you are calling from the comfort in your home already, what’s your job at Camp!

a good tent

a good tent camp with complete peace of mind. If it’s a really solid tent in the wind, in the rain and you will sleep with peace of mind. Your choice must be according to the weather you are camping in a tent. I would also like to say, never don’t break the wood to build a fire near the tent or nearby, go to your tent and tear up your tent on a piece while I was chopping wood, or a spark can puncture your tent, you can burn.

Tent Pads

what’s that you say, the tent pad is a really useful thing, prolongs the life of your tent. the exact size of your tent mat tent alone definitely get any excess around the edges. If it is larger than the tent pads and tent itself, the tent and after a while accumulate under the water from the rain goes into the tent.

without entering the tent

this rule applies to both summer and especially winter. Necessarily going into all the vents open in the tent the tent, where the tent’s canopy closes, even if not a little more open, or less openness to the entrance of the tent. This prevents the accumulation of moisture on the inside, with good ventilation and also the better you will sleep. Also, if any, on all your belongings, throw them in the trunk of your tent, it would eliminate the possibility of sudden wetting by the rain of the night. When you wear your shoes in the morning, please turn your shoes upside down and shake the insects into or if you have anything else you’d think.

sleeping bag Selection

the sleeping bag just like the tent must be chosen according to the mood you want to use, and you also comfortable in the type Overalls shall be agreed with -25 you can’t lie. Makes a sauna effect! Always refer to the degree of comfort of your choice so your sleeping bag extreme degree I’m hoping it won’t be too much work.

Without a sleeping bag?

speaking especially for the winter, make your bathroom into a sleeping bag because, first enter the manure or urea within the body with unnecessary energy will be wasted trying to keep a constant body temperature, instead of directly with this energy warms up the body herself, and a tent just in case you do not have to come out of the night, is a very difficult thing, usenirs!

hot water bag The coldness of the night and you think you are in the winter camp. Here’s a good tip. Always a water bottle or cell doesn’t have to be a stove, fill a water bottle that will not melt with hot water and a t-shirt roll up and put it in your bag, you’ll like the temperature.I can’t deal with mobile water or something like that if you say there is something to suit the stove. The important point in use alone, mobile after Heating the stove can cause minor burns, do not make direct contact with the body, ultimately to high levels of a chemical in use to keep you warm and it falls towards the end of the degree of interest.

Dry Damp Items

if you have a way to dehydrate you a few things wet or full wet light. Night, when you sleep and wrap them up in something like a towel to throw this stuff into the sleeping bag in the morning, when you look you will see that they are dry, never underestimate the heat out of your body.

those who can’t sleep without a pillow those who say I can’t sleep without pillow for my head; your towel, small pillow or inflatable pillows you can buy twists, you can make it up your shirt. You’ll see the benefits if you obtain them, personally I use and lighter and takes up less space.

cooking sets for camping

This is one of the most important things I’ll recommend those who like camping. You don’t need to bring from home, usually at home no matter how small every steel or a heavy pot. These sets usually made of aluminum, heats up quickly, quick, cold, and very lightweight. Cooking container, food container, made of materials such as glass. Set and allows it to be a combination of everything that they have to lose is not easy. Even the titanium ones, there are us of course, we don’t work with them.

fork, knife, spoon, and wine opener

campers will enjoy if, like us, nice for you I have a suggestion. Individual knives, forks, etc instead of carrying the bulk of them resides in a small but multi purpose tools are great. I would strongly recommend that you use them, and you don’t risk losing anything, and both the wine opener really works

in the tent selection

“a night’s sleep or already here, we’ll rule” really don’t find flat ground and composed, pet dander if they are near you, cover it with stones or soil. Don’t worry about goat droppings. Surely supporting said Don’t do it:d it im ever, do not camp near animal carcass. You can’t imagine just how wild it would get the dog in the night, no you don’t have a purpose against it, but I didn’t see in your head when inside the tent and outside, what movies, what turns scenarios!

Setup the tent

there are certain rules to be followed and I suggest that we set up the tent. Pol team, the ground from the corner sabitledin we all did the right thing, but it actually it’s not okay. The tent is definitely good stretch, put the nails in the ground and secure it from all you need. Don’t neglect to use the rope tension. The tent spikes are usually quickly and also crooked. For nails I would recommend a little heavier construction-sized one. Skewed so you will not mess with the nail. A well established tent and increases resistance to the wind, allowing lost to go down better over the pouring rain. Ultimately, the fabric of the tent is something else, another plastic tarp.

lightness of the subject If your philosophy just as much as I don’t mind if I eat donkey moves. But lightness is something that is important in other ways. So take a backup of the things you get depending on the time of the upper head underwear backup is enough. As far as enough things get, the more it hurts to move.

food stuff

we made our fish in hot water in the camp, we have added tuna and corn rice. The choice is yours, take it with you but I’ll say things include: chocolate for breakfast, cheese, olives, or jam easy, non-perishable foods, of course, if not in the direct sun. Light weight and higher nutritional value is important, because for the evening pasta-tuna-corn I’d say. As a snack, a cup of soup, cool or they see 5 minutes of the pasta water really work. But if you take the fish wrapped in aluminum foil and if you have nearby and throw a large sheet or the embers or hot stones, I had eaten a meal like this before, I don’t think is really amazing. Caution: never eat a mushroom you don’t know or fruit. Fatal poisoning can experience. To give an example, we eat of the fruit jam of Wales on a project up in identical copies in the flat of avusor I’ve learned that it is very toxic, we were warned by the locals. Although seemingly identical fruits, the leaves were different. Examples of this type are many, Oh, I say. A delicious mushroom that is deadly again I learned on my trip very similar to that of another.

  cooking location according to the environment

actually, this is an important consideration. Why do you say that money, if cooking at a campsite with the Black Sea region’s there is a serious difference between cooking in a forest. If bears, boars, foxes live in a place where animals such as if you’re eating your meal, definitely at least 100 feet away from where you’re sleeping. Your meal may attract animals because of the smell. And at night, arises the possibility of encounter with an unwanted guest.

your head inside the sleeping bag sleeping

Yes, you have not misunderstood, your head into the bag can have trouble sleeping in the winter. Winter camping the last thing humidity is your enemy. You need to always stay dry. If I breathe into a sleeping bag, the bag into water vapor that makes it to be cold, you’d be giving up. Ventilate the tent is one of the reasons we call.

Pharmacy Camp

these sets include, I strongly ?  Already according to the content size will change. It is useful to present with you always. Usually things that will be needed, aspirin, pain relievers, band-AIDS, bandages, emergency blankets are things like.

Cleaning the camp

if you are going to a particular campsite if you are cleaning the toilet area and many places around for you. But beware; streams, rivers don’t involve chemicals into, I mean, soap, toothpaste or other cleaning fluid pour the waters of the stream/do not confuse. 100% wet wipes certainly obtain, and also the most practical in nature, it’s the shape of it really cleaning. You get a garbage bag and certainly, you know, in the name of cleaning, we can see that we have the least let’s keep the nature clean around a lot.

best friend

photo: clarity.fm

how much is applicable in every part of life, although with a good friend last camping experience is unique. It’s the same head as you camping with your friend, if you both called home in the middle of the cry that there is a problem you can get up and go. But it’s a problem with your friends and give you a full camper permission. If he’s the one who raised the little things or you’re in trouble. Do not like to eat again. Good that you have a great time camping with a friend by the fire to chat luscious. It is a feast of things just you and nature all around you.

what are your recommendations me a few things I suggest these?