| Wednesday, April 25th, ANZAC Day, 2012 Up at 5:15am when my alarm went off. Turned on TV to watch live broadcast of memorial service from Canberra. Woke Corinne once I'd made her cup of Earl Grey. Sipped my own Instanto as she dressed. We left the hotel at 5:50am to walk to the Cenotaph. Joined the stream of people thronging Knuckey Street, all of us headed for Bicentenniel Park. The memorial service was underway when we arrived and we found ourselves on the edge of the horseshoe which surrounded the Cenotaph itself. The reading of Flanders Fields was coming to a close as we approached. The remarkable poem held even more meaning for us as we had visited the medical field station, near Ypres, in August, 2010, where Robert McRae had first penned the verses which would become inextricably linked to Remembrance Day. Public address system was very clear and crisp and we could hear the service, the choir and the military band without any distortion but could not see much over the heads of those already in front. After a few minutes, I noticed an opening which led to the temporary plastic tape crowd control fence and I moved to it in order to take a few pictures. Stayed there for the duration of the ceremony. The Sally Thomas, first female Administrator of the NT, (as well, the first woman to be Chief Justice of the NT Supreme Court), gave the memorial address and her words were terribly moving and apt. An extremely articulate, gripping speaker, she detailed the utter horror of the battlefield circumstances surrounding the Gallipoli Campaign, (and those throughout the other Great War theatres of conflict), the engagement which resulted in the eventual establishment of the observance of ANZAC Day. Her address included an hommage to General Monash, an individual I had known almost nothing about, one of the few military leaders deserving praise given the obscene incompetence,of senior command, which resulted in the needless, unimaginable slaughter which characterized most, if not all, the fronts. From Wikipedia: Monash's impact on Australian military thinking was significant in three areas. Firstly he was the first Australian overall commander of Australian forces and took, as subsequent Australian commanders did, a relatively independent line with his British superiors. Secondly, he promoted the concept of the commander's duty to ensure the safety and well-being of his troops to a pre-eminent position. And finally, he, along with the brilliant Staff Officer Thomas Blamey forcefully demonstrated the benefit of thorough planning and integration of all arms of the forces available, and of all of the components supporting the front line forces, including logistical, medical and recreational services. Troops later recounted that one of the most extraordinary things about the Battle of Hamel was not the use of armoured tanks, nor simply the tremendous success of the operation, but the fact that in the midst of battle Monash had arranged delivery of hot meals up to the front line. At the Battle of Hamel on 4 July 1918, Monash, with the support of the British 4th Army commander Sir Henry Rawlinson commanded the 4th Australian Division, supported by the British 5th Tank Brigade, along with a detachment of US troops, to win a small but operationally significant victory for the Allies. On 8 August 1918, the Battle of Amiens was launched. Allied troops under the command of Douglas Haig, predominantly Rawlinson's British 4th Army (consisting of the Australian Corps under Monash and the Canadian Corps under Arthur Currie, and the British III Corps) attacked the Germans. The allied attack was spearheaded by the Australian Corps, who had been given the capture of enemy artillery as a key objective in the first phase by Monash in order to minimize the potential harm to the attacking forces. The battle was a strong, significant victory for the Allies, the first decisive win for the British Army of the war, causing the Germans to recognise that for them the War was lost. The defeated German leader, General Ludendorff, described it in the following words: "August 8th was the black day of the German Army in the history of the war" These operations were just a start of a broad Allied offensive across the Western Front. On 12 August 1918 Monash was knighted as a Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath on the battlefield by King George V, the first time a British monarch had honoured a commander in such a way in 200 years.The Australians then achieved a series of victories against the Germans at Chignes, Mont St Quentin, Peronne and Hargicourt. Monash had 208,000 men under his command, including 50,000 inexperienced Americans. Monash planned the attack on the German defences in the Battle of the Hindenburg Line between 16 September and 5 October 1918. The Allies eventually breached the Hindenburg Line by 5 October, and the war was essentially over. On 5 October, Prinz Max von Baden, on behalf of the German Government, asked for an immediate armistice on land, water and in the air. By the end of the war Monash had acquired an outstanding reputation for intellect, personal magnetism, management and ingenuity. He also won the respect and loyalty of his troops: his motto was "Feed your troops on victory". Monash was regarded with great respect by the British - a British captain on the staff of William Heneker's 8th Division described Monash as "a great bullock of a man ... though his manners were pleasant and his behaviour far from rough, I have seen few men who gave me such a sensation of force ... a fit leader for the wild men he commanded". Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery later wrote: "I would name Sir John Monash as the best general on the western front in Europe". After her address, the wreaths were laid and I commented to Corinne that most of them were laid by politicians, federal, state and local, representatives of those earlier office holders who sent the troops to fight in the first instance. In a painfully ironic twist we always forget "Lest We Forget",as applied to the political decisions which are always made by those who never have to fight themselves but condemn others to the killing floor. Service ended just before 7:00am and crowd was invited to lay their own wreaths or poppies at the base of the Cenotaph. Poppies were available from young Army or Navy cadets scattered throughout the grounds and we both placed a poppy, Corinne for her two uncles, George Durston and James Love, while I thought of my Uncle Walter, a member of 617 Squadron, the bomb-aimer credited with releasing 5.4-ton "Tallboy" bomb which sank the German battleship Tirpitz in Tromso Fjord on November 12th, 1944. Back to the hotel for a quick shower and breakfast. Packed up most of our possessions and then walked to Advance to collect car. Easy drive along Mitchell Street as hardly another car on the quiet street. Parked close to entrance and went up to room, collecting a luggage dolly on the way, to finish packing the cooler and then back downstairs to load our brand-spanking new, hatchback Hyundai Getz. Once packed, we set off down Smith Street, Cora Lee navigating better than Garmin Goil or Tom-Tom ever did, and had no difficulty, whatsoever, getting out of town, before ANZAC Day Parade began, on to Stuart Highway and then Arnhem Highway. Guess that driving on the left-side is like riding a bicycle, you never forget how. Last time I drove was in on the "wrong" side was in Scotland in 2004. Smooth sailing, 130K speed limit, for most of the way. And this on what is a very good but basically a secondary road, all the way to Kakadu, passing through such strange sounding places as Humpty Doo and Annaburroo. Other than the difference in vegetation, bit like driving through northern Ontario or much of Newfoundland. Nothing but forest and bush on either side of the highway for most of the way, other than the stretch of highway which borders, on the north, Djukbinj National Park, a wetlands preserve, with tall grass rather than trees. Once in Kakadu itself we drove to the Bowali Visitor Centre & Park Headquarters to buy our pass, ($25 each), and find out which walks and sites were open. Due to high water levels, (It is just the start of dry season.), a number of the more spectacular sites are either closed or inaccessible unless one has a 4 wheel drive. In our case this meant that Oenpelli, Jim Jim Falls, Cahills Crossing Ubir Art Site, (all recommended by friends, Terry and Mark, in Adelaide, were not possible to visit. Nevertheless, we felt that there were more than enough things to do and places to see in the two or three days we had. After leaving Bowali we drove about 6K to Jabiru itself, a tiny place, boasting a gas station, a bakery and a Shopping Centre, (according to the local street signs, a small shopping mall, but, overall, pleasant enough in a typical country town way. We had changed our original booking from the Aurora Kakadu Hotel, (It was located about 40K from Jabiru and the sites we could visit were at least 30K from Jabiru so commuting would have been overly time consuming.), to the Indigenous owned Gagudju Crocodile Holiday Inn, (In the heart of Kakadu!", according to the literature in the room), built for $16 million, in the shape of a giant saltwater crocodile. Bad enough that we might be attacked and devoured while we were munching on our picnic sandwiches near any of the creeks which criss-cross the park but we also had to sleep inside the belly of a Brobdingnagian Croc! Found our room to be very comfortably appointed. We unpacked and then I put together a picnic lunch and we returned to the Registration Desk where we made bookings for the Yellow Water Wetlands tour, ($85 each), leaving Cooinda at 4:30pm that afternoon, as well as for a scenic hour flight, ($225), by Kakadu AIr, for noon the next day, for me, leaving from Ranger Airport, originally built to service the Ranger Uranium Mine, still very much in operation today, about 6K from our hotel. Reservations made, we climbed back into the trusty Getz again and headed south on the Kakadu Highway towards Nourlangie, approximatley 35K away, where we wished to visit the rock art galleries. When we reached the parking lot at Nourlangie, (Cora Lee shrieking all the way whenever I veered to close to the shoulder, at the aforementioned 130K Sterling Moss pace), we enjoyed a picnic not far from the start of the walk which would take us to the various galleries. While we ate our sandwiches and carrot sticks it was fun to watch the other tourists as they arrived and made their way to the washrooms or various other pathways. On group, an Eco Tour bus of about 20 people reminded us of our own such camping outing, back in 2003, from Alice Springs, when we visited Uluru, (Ayers Rock), and King's Canyon. Picnic finished and washing up done, (wiped off plastic picnic plates and wooden knives, (almost Aboriginal in our use of cutting implements!), and stowed them back in our very efficient, portable/collapsible mini-cooler), and then headed for the start of the 1.5K circular walk which would take us past an ancient Aboriginal shelter and several remarkable art sites. Since the climb was only moderately steep with many well constructed stairs and walkways, it was relatively easy on Cora Lee's right foot. The parking lot is near the end of the massive Nourlangie "outlier", as I understand it, this sandstone outlier has been left behind as the Arnhem Land plateau slowly eroded away to the east: "For tens of thousands of years Nourlangie Rock has been home to the people of the Kakadu region. The true name for the locality is Anbangbang (for the lower areas) and Burunguy (for the towering cliff tops.) Positioned by chance on the boundaries of several different landforms, Nourlangie is perfectly positioned for people living off the land. With the wetlands associated with Nourlangie Creek to the south and a great expanse of woodlands to the east and west this sandstone massif sits at the hub of an expansive supermarket. In prehistoric times this region would have been as densely populated as anywhere in Australia. The abundance of food, water and shelter gave the indigenous people of the area an unusual amount of free time to pursue cultural, religious and artistic endeavors. Testimony to this comes from the walls of the numerous rock art galleries of the area. Many of the feature paintings have been placed to reinforce important cultural stories concerning timeless laws, ceremonies and systems of social values and beliefs." As we circled the base, looking up, we were awed by the sheer cliffs and massive, massive rock slabs, jumbled, at some points, by unimaginable forces, to form natural buildings with cathedral ceilings. Reminded us of our time at Hanging Rock, near Castlemaine, in 2006, with Lurch and Grogg, Kathleen and Stefano, although Nourlangie dwarfs, by huge orders of magnitude, the impressive stone monoliths there. It was deliciously cool as we meandered the route, between outcroppings and through narrow passageways, under huge stone awnings, catching glimpses of the cliffs, from time to time, listening to snatches of birdsong, and marveling at the vegetation, massive trees and shrubs and grasses and other floweringfplants, which flourished everywhere, even grabbing toeholds and obviously thriving, in the most unlikely and seemingly impossible places. The so-called art galleries themselves were quite extraordinary and we were mesmerized by the rock art, (gunbim), which represent "one of the longest historical records of any group of people in the world." Some estimates date the paintings to be over 2,000 years old. Apparently there are more than 5,000 art sites which tell of the Creation Ancestors, often using traditional X-ray art, show naturalistic paintings of animals, (kangaroos and birds, as one could expect), and even record the first European contact. Perhaps the most impressive of the the sites we were privileged to see here was the Anbangbang Gallery, the one featuring Namarrgon, the Lightning Man, and his wife, Barrginj, at least according to information supplied by the traditional owners, together with a conglomeration of other figures, both human, (family groups of men and women on their way to a ceremony), and animal, (grasshoppers and fish), depicting essential stories about traditional Aboriginal land and laws to be passed through succeeding generations. "Mimi spirits were the first of the Creation Ancestors to paint on rock. They taught some Bininj, (The Aboriginal people of Kakadu are known as Bininj/Mungguy. Both are similar to the English word "man" and depending on the context can mean man, male, person or Aboriginal people. Balanda means non-Aboriginal people.), how to paint and other Bininj learned by copying Mimi art. At the end of their journeys, soem Creation Ancestors put themselves on rock walls as paintings and became djang, dreaming places. Some of these paintings are andjamun, sacred and dangerous, and can be seen only by senior men or women; others can be seen by all people. The act of painting is generally more important than the painting itself, so many older paintings are covered by younger ones." The artists of these indigenous "hieroglyphics", (my characterization), perhaps, more properly, Dreaming painting: In Dreaming painting, use special paint, ochre, blood. Come back with that feeling. Ceremony painting is not for everyone to see. Top business you can't see it. Go through your body and give you knowledge, Dreaming. You might dream. Good one. -Bill Neidjie, Bunidj clan, Warradjan Aboriginal Cultural Centre use several naturally occurring minerals to make the basic colours common in rock paintings: "Haematite, an iron-rich rock used to make red; Limonite and goethite, used to make yellow/orange; Ochre an iron-stained clay that is used to make red, orange and yellow and can be made darker by baking it in a fire before grinding; Kaolin (pipeclay) and huntite, used to make white; Manganese oxide and charcoal, used to make black, although charcoal is not a mineral and does not last long. Of all the pigments, haematite lasts longest. Over time it penetrates and bonds with the rock surface. As a result, the majority of old paintings visible today are completely red. The other white and yellow pigments commonly used in X-ray paintings form a layer on the surface of the rock; they are very vulnerable to damage by wind, water, animals and humans. Pigments are crushed on a stone palette and mixed with water to form a paste. Paint is applied using brushes made from human hair, chewed sticks, reeds and feathers." The sublime simplicity and elegance, evident in the deft lines and mysterious, iconic shapes, astonish and astound, speaking as they do to Bininj and Balanda alike of archetypal truth beyond time and temporal events. If one looks carefully, in awe, one cannot view these works without coming away with a deep sense of the profound sacredness of the sites and a consciousness we Balanda would do well to respect and attempt to understand and learn from. The lookout named Gunwarddehwardde is a short distance beyond the art galleries and was well worth the moderate climb to take in the sweeping, panoramic views of the escarpment and the main face of Nourlangie Rock itself. Very pleased, nay exhilarated, by what we had seen and experienced, we returned to the car park by 3:30pm, to make the drive, 35K or so, past the turnoffs to Mirral Lookout, Jim Jim Falls and Jim Jim Billabong, to Gagudju Lodge in Cooinda where we were to catch a courtesy shuttle bus, at 4:00pm, which would take us to the Yellow Water cruise. The short road into the small jetty/dock was closed to regular traffic as it and the associated parking lot were both still flooded to about a foot above the pavement. Only had to wait for a few minutes and were collected by the tour operator and were soon making our way, via a raised metal walkway, enclosed on both sides, up to head level, or more, to our boat, an aluminum flat-bottomed craft, with overhead canopy, two seats running along each side, most of its length, bisected by a wide aisle. Even boasted a toilette at the back, behind the steering wheel and engine control housing. Our charter guide was a very personable young man, Sheldon, probably part Aboriginal by his look, from Darwin originally, we learned over the course of the outing. There were only about 15 other people on the tour so it was very easy to move from side to side without disturbing anyone. First remarkable sighting, shortly after we left the dock, was of a juvenile Jabiru, a member of the stork family and the bird which gives its name to the town. Not long afterwards we came upon a magnificent White Bellied Sea Eagle, sitting atop a large dead gum on the edge of the waterway. Just as we were approaching to obtain a better and closer view, a Darter Bird, some version of a loon/crane, landed on the lower bare branches. We were literally within touching distance of the Darter and could see its incredible webbed feet, as large as my hands, and its remarkably sinuous neck. WIth wonderfully intelligent, shiny black eyes it scrutinized us, carefully, but without alarm, treating us to a peacock-like display of its gorgeous feathers when it spread its wings and held them open, drying them in the sun, according to Sheldon. We remained close to the tree, snapping like National Geographic photojournalists, both birds paying but slight attention, their looks elsewhere, completely unconcerned about us or the other, or so it seemed. Sheldon remarked after about ten minutes with these beautiful, beautiful creatures that in all the five years that he had been conducting these tours he had never seen these two birds together, on the same tree, for as long as they had stayed for us. The darter was the first to leave and then the eagle flew off as well. No shortage of other birdlife, however, as the grass of the wetland beyond the open water was filled with hundreds and hundreds of White. Making our way along the channel we next came across a large female crocodile, (according to our guide), mouth open, on a mud flat, with a horde of Whistling Ducks not far away. Sheldon nosed the boat right onto the sloping bank and we could have touched the motionless beast, (her mouth was closed by the time we neared the bank although she never once opened her hooded eyes), had anyone been foolhardy enough to attempt such an act. Its sheer size and striking colouration, camouflage to the nth degree, its hyper obvious reptilian character, the amazingly menacing, serrated tail and armour plated back, was mesmerizing. Funnily enough, the expression I read into the crocodile's head and snout was akin to what one might imagine a friendly cartoon croc would wear. This almost benign visage was given even more credence by the tiny, relatively speaking, forelegs, ending in dainty paws, which were upturned, much as a human sunbather would hold his or her arms and hands when lying on one's stomach. Just a goofy looking critter, catching a few rays. "Hey Sheldon, put some sun screen on my hide, will ya, mate! And while yer at it, tell them dopey Whistlin' Ducks to turn it down a notch or two. A Goil can hardly catch forty winks and I've got a big time booking with Mr Dreamboat, Fang hisself, later tonight, upstream!" However, one look at the massive claws on each of the hind limbs soon dispelled any notion of non-dinosaur like personality, reminding one of raptors and Tyrannosaurii Rex, certainly not Looney Tunes critters. Cruise continued for about another hour or so and we saw more crocs, some on the river bank, some just above the surface of the water, floating on the thick weeds and grasses, most if not all, unbothered by our presence. Just before we turned around to make our way back to the dock, we spied a large male croc up ahead. Sheldon brought the boat alongside him as he cruised effortlessly through the water, the occasional swish of his massive tail propelling him along. a few minutes later one of the other passengers noticed another croc ahead, on the other bank and as we approached it launched itself on a course to intercept the croc slightly ahead of us now. Sheldon gave a running commentary, stating that the "attacker" was probably a young male and its approach was a suicide run. Our Big Guy never even changed course, never even moved its massive head or snout, just kept swimming ahead. Just as Sheldon exclaimed that the juvenile was heading into certain death, the young croc veered away, opening its jaws, a sign of submission, apparently, and circled behind, following at a distance for a short while. Rather exciting, certainly an adrenalin rush for most of us as we certainly had no idea what the possible outcome would be. No crocodile carnage in the Alligator River, (explorer who named multi-strand river didn't know the difference between the two reptiles, Dear Reader!), we retraced our earlier course, enjoying the ever-present Egrets and some delightful Comb-crested Jacana chicks feeding in the sedge at the water's edge, there large splayed feet allowing them to walk on the floating mass of aquatic vegetation/water saturated mud banks then some stunning Kingfishers in the tree branches drooping over the water, kind enough to stay at rest for long enough for us to approach them before shooting off. Finally an adult Jabiru close to the dock, with a young crocodile stalking two Egrets nearbye. Thanking Sheldon for conducting such an informative and enjoyable tour, we traipsed back to the waiting mini-bus, holding our collective breath as the driver drove into a large patch of open water, (the submerged parking lot, although we didn't realize this initially), to turn the vehicle around and then back to the lodge to pick up our cars. Pleasant drive back to Jabiru, making a concerted attempt to keep off the unpaved shoulders for Coriandre's peace of mind! Up to room for quick showers, sipping a Yalumba, Eden Valley, SA, 2011 Pinot Grigio, 12.5%, $9, then to Gagudju Dreaming Dining Room for supper, barramundi for Cora Lee, Water Buffaloe Carpaccio and red onion/tomatoe/mint salad, glass of NZ SB for Coriandre, a Bluetongue Lager, for me, I 'd enjoyed it so much the night before at Hanuman. Pleasant meal, revisiting the marvellous day and planning the next outings. Back to room to watch final episode of Titanic but couldn't find it on. Came across The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Swedish version, so watched Lisbeth Salander and Michail Blomquist solve the gripping disappearance of Harriet Vanger, before dropping off to sleep. Could hardly keep my eyes open by 11:30pm or so as I'd been up at 5:15am. When I finally switched of TV, Coramandel was already sleeping peacefully, and I wasn't far behind, thinking of the magnificent creatures we'd had the privilege to see at such deliriously close quarters in their native environment, their stunningly beautiful ecosystem. To be continued...
Hi Ruth, yes that was Wayne at the table.
We had a great 5 weeks with Wayne and Michele driving around and in Cairns especially. Patrick and I are now in Darwin for 10 days. We go to Kakadu, national forest today for 2 nights and then back here for 4. We then fly to Sydney and then on to Melbourne for a week with friends Steve and Kathleen before flying to Japan for 3 weeks and then home on May 31st.
Have you and Randy, bought a condo or another house? It sounds like you are in the city centre so perhaps a condo??
Thinking of you and your move. Always a big undertaking even with AT&T funding it.
Love to you both, Corinne DRAFT of above: Wednesday, April 25th, ANZAC Day, 2012 Up at 5:15am when my alarm went off. Turned on TV to watch live broadcast of memorial service from Canberra. Woke Corinne once I'd made her cup of Earl Grey. Sipped my own Instanto as she dressed. We left the hotel at 5:50am to walk to the Cenotaph. Joined the stream of people thronging Knuckey Street, all of us headed for Bicentenniel Park. The memorial service was underway when we arrived and we found ourselves on the edge of the horseshoe which surrounded the Cenotaph itself. The reading of Flanders Fields was coming to a close as we approached. The remarkable poem held even more meaning for us as we had visited the medical field station, near Ypres, in August, 2010, where Robert McRae had first penned the verses which would become inextricably linked to Remembrance Day. Public address system was very clear and crisp and we could hear the service, the choir and the military band without any distortion but could not see much over the heads of those already in front. After a few minutes, I noticed an opening which led to the temporary plastic tape crowd control fence and I moved to it in order to take a few pictures. Stayed there for the duration of the ceremony. The Administrator of the NT, the first woman to be Chief Justice of the NT Supreme Court, gave the memorial address and her words were extremely moving and apt. An extremely articulate, gripping speaker, she detailed the utter horror of the battlefield circumstances surrounding the Gallipoli Campaign, (and those throughout the other Great War theatres of conflict), the engagement which resulted in the eventual establishment of the observance of ANZAC Day. Her address included an hommage to General Monash, an individual I had known almost nothing about, one of the few military leaders deserving praise given the obscene incompetence,of senior command, which resulted in the needless, unimaginable slaughter which characterized most, if not all, the fronts. After her address, the wreaths were laid and I commented to Corinne that most of them were laid by politicians, federal, state and local, representatives of those earlier office holders who sent the troops to fight in the first instance. In a painfully ironic twist we always forget "Lest We Forget",as applied to the political decisions which are always made by those who never have to fight themselves but condemn others to the killing floor. Service ended just before 7:00am and crowd was invited to lay their own wreaths or poppies at the base of the Cenotaph. Poppies were available from young Army or Navy cadets scattered throughout the grounds and we both placed a poppy, Corinne for her two uncles, George Durston and James Love, while I thought of my Uncle Walter, a member of 617 Squadron, the bomb-aimer credited with releasing 5.4-ton "Tallboy" bomb which sank the German battleship Tirpitz in Tromso Fjord on November 12th, 1944. Back to the hotel for a quick shower and breakfast. Packed up most of our possessions and then walked to Advance No trouble back to hotel to load car No difficulty getting out of town, before ANZAC Day Parade began, on to Stuart Highway and then Arnhem Highway. Smooth sailing, 130K, all the way to Kakadu. Visitor Centre Gagadju Crocodile Holiday Inn, (In the heart of Kakadu!) Unpacked, packed picnic lunch Booked Yellow Water for 4:30pm, Scenic hour flight by Kakadu AIr for noon on Thursday. Back on Kakadu Highway to Nourlangie for picnic and then rock art Back in car to Cooinda to take Yellow Wetlands cruise Bird life: White Bellied Sea Eagle, Darter, Egrets, Kingfishers 9 crocs, bit of excitement when a young male advanced towards the huge male swiming alongside our craft. Just before engagement the "stupid kid" veered away, opening its jaws, a sign of submissive behaviour, according to Sheldon, our extremely entertaining and informative guide. Back to hotel for quick showers, sipping a Yalumba, Eden Valley, SA, 2011 Pinot Grigio, 12.5%, $9, then to Gagudju Dreaming Dining Room for supper, barramundi for Cora Lee, Water Buffaloe Carpaccio and red onion/tomatoe/mint salad, glass of NZ SB for Coriandre, a Bluetongue Lager, for me, I 'd enjoyed it so much the night befoer at Hanuman. Back to room to watch final episode of Titanic but couldn't find it on. Came across The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Swedish version, so watched Lisbeth Salander and Michail Blomquist solve the gripping disappearance of Harriet Vanger, before dropping off to sleep. Could hardly keep my eyes open by 11:30pm or so as I'd been up at 5:15am. When I finally switched of TV, Coramandel was already sleeping peacefully, and I wasn't far behind, thinking of the magnificent creatures we'd had the privilege to see at such deliriously close quarters in their native environment, their stunningly beautiful ecosystem. To be continued... |
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