Backpack Storybook

Labels: Australia

Murwillumbah, NSW – Each year the good folk of the small Northern Rivers cane farming town of Murwillumbah host the Festival of Speed on Tweed, an authentic round-the-houses classic car race.

It’s all the things that a trip to the Indy or the Formula One is not – it’s relatively cheap, the pits are open to the public, the racing is exciting and you can get nice and close to the action.

The event recreates the kind of pre and post war racing in regional Australia. Towns like M-bah, not overly phased they didn’t have a proper race track, simply erected hay bales around the town’s streets and unleashed smoke-belching open wheeled screamers to do their worst.

This year was hampered by rain and some very muddy pit areas, but the racing was still great to watch. Highlights included a Torana XU1 being driven like a rally car (ie sideways), a Mustang that sounded like a jet engine and a parade lap of Peter Brock’s past touring cars.

Brock died in a tarmac rally in Perth last week. He was supposed to appear at Speed on Tweed to race some of the classic cars from his past. Racing legends like Jim Richards drove his cars instead.

Labels: Australia

Labels: Photography, Travel

Travel – Yesterday, I wrote about my father Ralf who spent a week flying from Perth to Europe on dodgy charter airline in 1975.

He related the story to me because I called him recently, seeking advice on what to pack for a similar half-world trip.

Ralf arrived in Rome after travelling for 144 hours. Somewhere between the Rome airport arrivals hall and the Rome train station, where he was due to take a train to Germany, he abandoned his backpack.

He had checked it with the station luggage desk before taking a quick nap in a park. When he awoke, he realised he was late for his train. With the luggage desk at one end of the enormous station and his train platform at the other, he decided to leave his backpack and rush to his train with just his carry on luggage.

Here's what he considered necessary in 1975:
- Red leather boots, one pair
- Black leather jacket with peace sign painted on shoulder in white
- Denim jacket
- Woollen jumpers from Scandinavia, two pair
- Slacks, one pair
- T shirt
- Underwear and socks
- Runners, one pair
- Books, three

In contrast, my 2006 packing list is looking a little tech-heavy:
- Nylon rain jacket with breathable lining
- Cotton jumper
- Pants, two pairs
- Assorted t-shirts and collared shirts
- Boardshorts, two pairs
- Walk shorts, one pair
- Waterproof sneakers
- Underwear, athletic socks, long socks
- Toilet bag
- First aid kit

- Digital SLR camera
- Three SLR lenses
- Lens filters and cases
- Camera battery charger
- USB, remote release and AV cords
- MP3 player
- MP3 player charger
- Spare headphones
- Portable speakers
- AC adaptor for portable speakers
- USB key
- Rugby football
- Football pump
- Torch

- Lonely Planet guidebook
- Journal
- Notepad
- Novel

And Ralf's backpack? He never saw it again. But he did make his train.

Labels: Travel

Travel – At the age of 20, my father Ralf left his hometown of Hamburg, Germany, and took Australia up on its generous migrant scheme offer.

He settled first in Adelaide, home to Australia’s largest German population, and later in Perth, where he met my mother.

After five years in Australia he returned to Germany for several months to visit friends and family. He bought a ticket on a charter flight from Perth to Europe for AUD$400. In comparison, my 2006 ticket from Perth to London via Bangkok cost a little over $2000.

While Ralf’s ticket sounds like a bargain, it took him almost seven days and six airports to reach his destination.

Taking off from Perth, the flight made lengthy stopovers in Jakarta, Kuala Lumpur, Colombo, Karachi and Baghdad.

At Colombo Airport he came face to face with the filthiest toilet he had ever encountered. Awash with piss and water, he stood as far back as possible from the urinal and did his best to hit the target.

At the row of basins two attendants stood at attention. Dressed in their “white pyjamas”, the first attendant turned the tap on while the second offered two choices for the drying of hands: a roll of clean toilet paper or a filthy hand towel used by countless travellers. Ralf chose a square of toilet paper.

Ralf finally arrived in Rome a week after his flight first began, delirious, sleep-starved and half-mad. He took a train north to Germany and gratefully collapsed onto a three-to-a-wall bunk in a sleeper car and slept for a day while the train travelled through the Alps.

Labels: Travel

Labels: Australia