Rockin the Didg

A guitar might be an axe, but a didgeridoo is an axe handle....or a beating stick.....ok so maybe it's a log that makes cool noises. One this is for certain, I suck at it, but at least I have one now.

One of our fieldies, Jules Inaarmidir Gulamuwu, is an aboriginal from Arnhem Land. He lives in Oenpelli and when he was a young lad he was raised in the old ways by his grandfather. He was taught how to paint, how to make a didg, how to play the didg and most of all, how to survive in the bush. During some down time he's shown me a bunch of cool stuff. He showed me how to find water and several plants that I could eat if I had to. There's a sugar grass where you can chew on the root and it will energize you and quench your thirst. He also found some bush potatoes. Only the size of a pea, but if you're hungry enough you'd need 'em.

"The bush potato is sitting at the bottom of the hole I dug. When it's buried you can tell it's there by its stem (the thing that looks like a death mace and is just as pokey) to the left."

I asked him what sort of trees were around us and he started rattling off aboriginal names for them. Once I told him I couldn't pick up any of what he was laying down he told me some english names. A particularly hard one is the Iron Tree. They get used for spears and apparently also for defence, "If you're being chased by a buffalo, hide behind an iron tree, it will not break. You see that tree? (points to one beside it) That one will break very easy and then you in big trouble." - Jules

Toward the end of our little bush discussion I mentioned that I really wanted to pick up a didgeridoo before I head home. To which he simply said, "I'll make you one brother." The people of Arnhem Land were the first to use didgeridoos and they spread the knowledge to other tribes throughout Australia. So while they are found in souvenir shops everywhere in this country, they only truly belong to his people. I hope to sweet mother Mary of Christ that I can get it safely back to Canada. I consider it an honour to be given a traditional didg from the birthplace of their use. Of course, like everything in life it comes at a price. A 30 pack of Carlton Mid (tough to come by out here and useful for bargaining back in Oenpelli) and the deal was struck.

"Within 48hrs we'd cut down a proper sized branch and he'd shaved and sanded it. This is the before photo. I have some more photos of the tree that it came from."

Voila, I have my very own genuine didg (pronounced 'dij'). Evidently this one's name is Mago (Mah-go) and if I call it that I will have no bad dreams and the ancestors will respect my use of it. It took me a while to figure out how to make the proper sounds. I still don't really have the sort of range that an aboriginal can hit...and never will. Another cool thing about it is he made it the size that's normally played by his people. So when they'd have gatherings, funerals or dance, my size of didg is the one that's used. And now for the main event....

Heat Records and Rhinos

Consider it a result of my enigmatic luck, but Darwin (and Arnhem Land as well) is about to have its' hottest July...ever. People told me I'd have trouble adjusting to the heat when I came over here. It's been hard but I've done ok so far. July has been doing its best to knock me right back to the frozen north though. The daily highs hover around 33C with 50% humidity. But that's not what is going to set new records. It's the daily lows that are going to shatter the record books. We've been averaging 22C as an overnight low.... Think about that for a second. Sask has been lucky to see 22 as a high this summer. Last night it didn't get any lower than 24C. It's hard to comprehend unless you're actually here, but suffice to say that most days it feels hotter than Hades eating a dried chili pepper with a side of szechuan in a sauna fueled by the fires of hell. Ok, maybe that's an exaggeration, but you get the idea.

"My ride....sort of."

Now for those of you unlucky enough to have never ridden a Rhino. I have to tell you, it's pretty fantastic. They can get you into all sorts of places and out here in the bush they can help you cover a lot of ground. Unless you get stuck, but that's a story for another day.

Gateway Festival/Reunion

This weekend marks the 6th Annual Gateway Festival aka 'The greatest shindig this side of the Arctic Circle". It's a huge feat really to have a large event like this in the tiny town of Bengough (my home town). While it's not nearly as large as Craven, it's also no where near any large cities.....or large buildings for that matter. Good times are had by all and the guest list is incredibly varied. Corb Lund? Had 'em. Emerson Drive? Had 'em. Fred Penner? Hells yeah we had him! The weather has really come through for the organizers and it should be another wicked weekend in 'the goff'.

What else is going on this weekend? Well my high school class is holding it's 10 year reunion at the festival for obvious synergenic (not a word, but it works) reasons. Our class was huge by Bengough standards, 24 students. In kindergarten we had 30 kids! We lost several to moves, a couple to failed grades (Grade 2 was the weeding out year, sound like 2nd year of uni to anyone?) and gained some insta-students from new families. 10 years....wow. You know you're old when? I don't feel old, I don't think I look old (though I probably do) and I don't want to be old. Thusly, I am not old. My logic is sound. Would have liked to see everyone again but the outback's call was too strong.

I look forward to creeping on Facebook for many drunken photos from this weekend back home.

Pitch Black

No, not the movie starring a a certain Diesel (that word just keeps popping up around here) with a gravelly voice. I'm talking about the Pitch Black war games that are held every second year at Darwin. Think of it as Top Gun, but down under.... and with less sweaty beach volleyball.....so much less....
***Editor's note: even with the homo-eroticism running rampant throughout Top Gun, I still love that movie***
***Editor's note to Hollywood: please make a new and better fighter pilot movie. No, 'Stealth' doesn't count. You weren't even trying when you made that one.***

I kind of wish I was in the city right about now to take some of it in.

"What do you mean we don't get to go watch!?!"

The homepage from a government website described it as follows:

"Exercise Pitch Black 10 (PB10) is a three week multi-national air combat exercise, to be conducted in Northern Australia over the period 16 Jul – 6 Aug 10.
PB10 will be the largest RAAF Field Training Exercise for 2010 and will involve a combination of day and night flying from RAAF bases at Darwin (DAR) and Tindal (TDL).
The exercise will involve participants from the Australian Army and elements of the Singapore, New Zealand and Thailand air forces that will participate in the tasking, planning and execution of Offensive Counter Air (OCA) and Offensive Air Support (OAS) operations in a coalition environment."

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exercise_Pitch_Black
http://www.ntnews.com.au/article/2010/07/17/164701_ntnews.html
http://www.defence.gov.au/opex/exercises/pitchblack10/gallery/20100716a/index.htm
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2008/06/06/2267319.htm

Basically it involves 10 countries, over 60 jets/planes, 1500 people and a s&%$load of bad wingman jokes. Of course all of the action takes place away from the civilian population. BUT, and it is a big but, there are several good lookout points within and nearby Darwin to observe. One of the fieldies just came in and said there's a great spot at one of the pub's where the jets actually end up flying right over top of you. Noisy? Absolutely. Awesome? Definitely. Apparently the American pilots are known for their hotdoggery. You can always spot a US jet taking off by its use of afterburner. The other countries are either too humble for the display of raw power..... or they just plain can't afford the extra fuel. Either way, I'd still like to see it. The views at night time are particularly enchanting. While the paint schemes keep the jets relatively out of sight during the daytime, at night the flames pumping out of the turbines can be tracked for miles away and you can watch the fighters do their dance above the desert.

"A credible source links this photo to Tom taking in the sights at the Pitch Black event near Darwin, Australia. Goose was not present at the time of this photo. His whereabouts are unknown, but he was believed to be waiting for Tom at the local beach volleyball court....or possibly the shower."

The Craven Award

It's been awhile since we sat down to talk to each other but I've been trying to build up some stuff worth telling you in the meantime.

For starters, I want to give a big shout out to my other brother Darryl. He recently won Slugfest (think home run derby, but for slo-pitch) in Saskatoon beating out a huge field of over 32 other dudes. The win was made all the sweeter when the final guy to beat was a disreputable bloke (aka douchebag).

What's new with me? Where to start? Lately I've been helping out with the logging and sampling on an RC (reverse circulation) rig. These rigs usually get used for oil and gas jobs but every now and then they get used for other exploration. They only provide you with little rock chips to look at so it's all really more of an art than a science when you're trying to describe things.

I've been able to take a break each day (when work is caught up and the drill is behind) to do some scrambling. There's some mini-escarpment by where we are and I've been conquering their barely-above-sea-level peaks. At least it gets me up above the flat and offers great views. I probably only get up to 30 m high and you can see for miles. The region we're in is classified as tropical savanna because of the extreme ends of the wet and dry scale. So while there are thousands of trees around, they are spread out to maximize growth and water usage. Being so spread out also means that you rarely find shade, but at least it's not a true desert where there's only scrub brush and flat sandy land.

I can't let this update go without telling you all about a recent trophy that was constructed in my honour. A couple weeks ago when I returned from Vietnam, a wizened and grizzled travel vet, the boys at King River had something waiting for me. After hearing about the 'diesel incident' (for which I am now famous...or infamous....either one works really) they took it upon themselves to construct a trophy dedicated to acts of numb-skullery.

 It is called the "Knob of the Week" and it was made out of an old door knob that didn't work anymore. It took one of the fieldies over half an hour to carve the letters onto the plate with a Dremel tool. It was a long process of blood, sweat and tears involved in its creation. However, I'm sure just about everyone here would say it was worth it. Seeing as how I was the inaugural winner of said trophy, it has also gone by the moniker, 'the Craven Award'. You don't win an Oscar here, but you can win a Craven.

"As you can see there's been a few winners since my inauspicious day. Misty was the latest winner when she locked herself in one of the vehicles."

p.s. Can't believe how the Riders have started the season. 3 quality wins against quality opponents. I predict we go 1-3 over the next 4 games.

Business as Usual

Fortunately or unfortunately my job has turned into one more closely resembling the one I normally occupy back in Canada. This has in turn made for fewer adventures and more routine days. Sure Misty had a huge Huntsman spider in her sleeping bag. Sure one of the fieldies found a snake under his tent....pffft. Didn't happen to me so what's the big deal?

In all seriousness, things have begun to settle down for me here and it's time to hit a stride....or pace.....or some sort of motion driven activity that leads to continual completion of tasks. Yeah that's it.

In the morning I drive to the rigs. Then I scan the core to see if it's 'hot' (ie radioactive). Then I drive the core back to camp. I load it onto racks. Then I log the core (or more accurately, train others to log it, as I am doing now). Rinse and repeat.

I wouldn't want you to go home totally empty handed though. As a parting nod to the sights of the last camp I was at, here are some photos for your enjoyment.

"Not long before I left Jabiru and Kakadu National Park we did some scouting with the chopper. You remember that arch? Well, I got a closer look.....the chopper couldn't safely get any closer but this view did nicely."

"A shot from my last hike in the bush there. You see that tree immediately to my left? There's a green tree ant nest in the branches. Seconds after this photo I will walk into it. I will then swear....a lot."

"Just climbin' some rocks, takin' some pics..."

"I know I'm ruining the view, but in the background is the East Alligator River Valley. We were about halfway up the valley wall at this point."

"Ranger Uranium Mine. The town of Jabiru wouldn't exist if not for this mine. Whether that's good or bad is up to people much better than myself. The mine is situated out in the middle of a flood plain and has to contend with the wet season every year."

"Cockatoos flying around in the courtyard at the resort I was staying at. Kind of odd to see them instead of pigeons or gulls."

"We found a pretty cool creek bed. This tree jutted out right across most of it. Probably the unique part of this area was the shade.... the blissful shade."

Nam - Cu Chi Tunnels

My second day tour was out to the Cu Chi Tunnels. They were used by the Vietnamese against the French back in the 50s and then again by the Viet Cong against the Americans and South Vietnamese in the 60s and 70s. When they were at their most developed they consisted of a network of 3 levels of over 240 km worth of intertwining and booby trapped tunnels. It gave the North (communist side) a stronghold in the south that was never broken. The Americans eventually became so frustrated with trying to fight on the Viet Cong's terms that they blanketed (aka 'carpet bombed') the entire area with Agent Orange (a defoliant that killed the vegetation) and then dropped 30 tons worth of bombs. 30 tons is a lot. Craters still litter the ground in the area and aren't fully overgrown yet. Agent Orange was no slouch either. Over 11 million gallons of it were used in the war and it's a nasty substance. It's worst ingredient is TCDD which is short for 'Kills stuff Dead'. Seriously, it's known to be one of the most dangerous substances ever created by man and 1 tablespoon of pure TCDD could kill millions of people.

Fast forward to today. The jungle has grown back and the tunnels are now a tourist attraction.

"To start the tour we were shown a war propaganda video. Only thing is it was from the Viet Cong's side. It showed many war heroes (both men and women) who were awarded the medal for 'Killer of American Invader'. It was different to say the least to see that little film. I imagine it somewhat akin to seeing Nazi propaganda....except the Vietnamese may actually have had a point."

"We were shown all kinds of traps that were used against the invading forces. All of them were poky and all of them would not feel good. This one in particular seemed pretty nasty. It was called a door trap. When a soldier kicked a door open or opened it all the way the trap would swing down. A natural defense mechanism for a soldier is to hold his gun out to stop something from hitting him in the face or chest. That would stop the top half of the trap. The lower half would then swing on its hinge and hit, well, you know....down there. As our tour guide so eloquently put it, 'No more man.'"

 "A B-52 bomb crater. Remember that they get monsoon rains in Vietnam and that this crater has had a lot of sediment wash down into it....and it's still huge (that crater is about 6m across)!"

"This was a legit tunnel entrance. You put that lid on there and cover it up a bit and it would be damn hard to find. I barely fit inside the opening and I think my shoulders would have made it through with some effort. Big American soldiers would have been like a square peg in the round hole, it just wouldn't have worked."

"I crawled through two tunnels. The first was a '5-Star' tunnel that was usually over a metre high and went for 100 m. This photo was taken in the '4-Star' tunnel. It was mostly less than a metre high and ran for about 50 m long. There wasn't much light in the larger tunnel and basically none in the second one. If ever there was a test for claustrophobia, this is it. Once you start getting down to the '2-Star' tunnels they're so small that you have to lie down and shuffle through them. I think that's where I would have hit my limit. Now try to imagine people living down here during the war. Kitchens, gathering rooms, hospitals, it was all down there and the only way to get from place to place was by the tunnels. People were only ever allowed to come out at night and cooking had to be done at 3 am when the smoke would be mixed in with the morning mists."

"I may or may not have fired an AK-47 at the end of the tour. And it may or may not have been cool."

Fun fact for the day: Australians call redheads 'Rangers', pronounced rang-urs, because the hair colour reminds them of orangutans. They've clearly evolved beyond the term 'ginger'.

Nam - Markets and Mekong

This was my introduction to Ho Chi Minh City. I land. I stand in the customs line for 25min. I get to the front. I realize I've forgotten that I need my landing Visa first. I leave the customs line feeling less competent. An hour later I have my landing Visa and then it's back into the Customs line. I exit the airport. A gentleman standing near a lineup of taxis tells me he has a one ready for me. I am happy because I'm looking forward to crashing in my hotel room as it's almost midnight. He starts walking toward the taxis, then makes a quick about-face and starts off toward the parking lot. I am perplexed. He proceeds to take me to his Toyota Camry. There are no signs on this car. There is no meter inside. In the kindest way possible I tell him there's no way I'm getting in that car. He tries showing me his 'credentials'. They consisted of a fake ID card that'd been cheaply laminated. It may even have been a thin wax. I walk away and find a real taxi.

This was a suitable introduction. Not because I was in any real danger, because I might not have been, but because the country is poor and everyone is looking to make their money any way they can. Unless you're ordering food or purchasing something that has a hard price tag on it (even then you can usually negotiate) they will try to swindle you out of as much money as possible. Thankfully 1 Canadian Dollar = 18200 Dong, so even though you might get 'taken', you probably only lost out on the best price by 40-70 cents.

Ben Thanh Market covers a square km. If you want to picture what it's like you only have to think of a flea market.... but one that fills a square km. With shelves and walls and hangers filled with a variety of things. You can buy everything from dragonfruit to a fake watch to hand painted crafts to jewellery to coffee there. And if you don't want to buy anything? Get out. Because you will be bartered, pawed, pulled, coerced and cajoled until you do want to buy something. Sometimes you'll see something you want down a little market alley way. Then you realize that the alley is lined with people who want to sell you their stuff even though you have no intention of even looking at their stuff. If you have the intestinal fortitude to shrug off dozens of sales pitches in order to get what you want for how much you want it for, you're in luck. If you'd rather go to a store where you pick something on your own time, don't even bother coming to Vietnam....ever.

I went on two tours. The first one was a day trip out to the Mekong Delta that ran me 18US for transportation from my hotel, lunch, the tour and any entrance fees along the way. I got absolutely taken to the cleaners. The same thing was being offered at little tour shops for 8US. I don't know if I got a better tour or not, but it really didn't matter. It's tough to complain about doubling the lowest price when that only adds 10 bucks. The drive out to the delta wasn't necessarily nice, but it was interesting. The southern part of the country is intensely populated and dirty. Again, it's in direct correlation to their poverty level. You can't hold it against them because they've had a tough go at it. In the 80s Vietnam was listed in the top 10 poorest countries of the world. The entire world. That's poor. That's 'Chris Rock growing up' poor. They now find themselves as the second largest rice producer in the world and owners of a growing economy.

Enough capitulation to the documentary crowd though. On to the tour!

"Weirdest looking fruit I've ever had. A couple of bees claimed one my pieces. 

I didn't try to fight them off."

"I have video of this one too. I stuck my finger into the tray between the bees and pulled out some honey. I have to admit, it tasted really good."

"An 18 month old Reticulated Python. This little fella was 7kg but that same snake can reach 35 years old and over 100kg. I would not attempt to hold a 35 year old."

"Paddling our canoe down a tributary in the Mekong. I'd like to say I helped for a large part of it, but I really only did it long enough to get my picture taken."

"We stopped by a village factory (?) that was making coconut candy. I had a coconut drink earlier in the day and spooned out some of the actual coconut. Coconut candy = good, real coconut  = not good. Apparently the girls wrapping candies can do over a 1000 in a day. 

I can't even count that high."

"When we were in the village a few of us borrowed some bikes and rode around. It was a cool little stop. They even had a makeshift soccer field enclosed in a rope fence. Vietnam is absolutely crazy for soccer even though their country isn't a powerhouse yet. Give them a couple decades and they'll be where Korea and Japan are now."

"When we were working our way down one of the canals I could help thinking, 'Some troops probably came down this same canal 40 years ago.' It's odd to think that the country was a battleground not to long ago. I wouldn't swim in that water but it was still a nice view riding on it."

"It rained on us for a few minutes but nothing major. The storm left the sky looking fantastic when we hit the open water at the end of the day."

5 Million

It's been awhile but it's time to check in with my adoring crowd of.... 7? This post is about one thing, motorcycles. 5 Million of them.

I'm back in the bush after a week off and a short trip to Saigon/Ho Chi Minh City/South Vietnam. You know that old Sesame Street song, "One of these things is not like the other"? That was me. I was not like the others. Not even close to about 6 million others. I've never felt more like I was in a foreign country than when I was in Vietnam. The beautiful part of it was that english is a bit of a second language in Vietnam. The US dollar is a recognized currency there but the Dong rules across most of the country. How they've gotten away with having a currency called Dong for this long is one of life's greatest mysteries. The money might have an original name, but it sure doesn't have an original look. It's the same dude on every bill. What's that? You have a 2000 Dong bill? BAM! It's got Ho Chi Minh's face on it. Oh you've found a 500000 Dong bill? Yep, that's Ho Chi Minh on there too. Ah well, maybe next time fellas.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, we were just about to start in on the motorbikes right? Well, that's where we're going anyway. It's estimated that Ho Chi Minh City is home to over 5 million motorcycles/scooters. Try to process that information. Try to imagine the sheer mass of motorbikes residing in one city. According to one tour guide the logic of so many is as follows, "If you have no bike, no girlfriend. If you have bike, you have girlfriend. If girl have bike but you no bike, you no have girlfriend. If you have car, you have 4 girlfriends." A resulting lifestyle factor of the huge amount of motorbikes is freestyle and free moving traffic. The rules of the road are that if you have a motorbike or scooter you can pretty much go wherever you want. With the flow? Done. Against the flow? Done. Across the flow? Done. But there is no stopping. You stop? You better have your guard up because the 4 bikes behind you aren't stopping. I'd like to see the streets from above because from ground level the city appears to be a living organism fueled by motorcycle/scooter cells that carry the human nutrients from place to place. I only took one motorcycle taxi and that was enough. The dude who was driving weaved us between cars, other bikes and straight through traffic circles. You remember that scene in National Lampoon's European Vacation where they get stuck in a traffic circle? Picture that, except much much worse...... so much worse. I could never drive in that city.

You want to cross the street? You step out deliberately and carefully. You look at the flow of traffic coming at you because while they will move around you, you still have to give them the right of way. Luckily traffic moves pretty slow and most North Americans would be the same size as the motorcycles. They're only 100cc's. I'm pretty sure the guys from my wedding party would equal 7 Vietnamese motorcycles..... maybe 8.

The red-headed stepchild of the transportation options is the cyclo. It's basically a bike with 1 wheel in the back, 2 in the front and a seat for the passenger in the very front. I took a cyclo from one of the markets back to my hotel. I took video of the whole ride. If you're ever up for a tale of thrills, triumph and heartbreak, I can show you.

Stay tuned for more from my pseudo-interesting time in Vietnam.