Lowering My Standards

Last weekend I went to Broken Hill for the St Pat's Day races. These are billed as the biggest social event of the year in the hill and considering that there is a population of about 22,000 and 8,000 people attended, I'd say it's a well justified claim. Despite the family history, it's the first time I've been to the races and it was a wonderful day - I even managed to win $35!!

Bek and Jason are a couple of Sydney Uni med students who spent 2 weeks in Wilcannia (remember the raft/trampoline thingy? they were on that). These guys are fantastically good fun and I headed to the races with them, some other med students, some of the RFDS doctors, a few of the Broken Hill nurses and we ran into some of the Wilcannia teachers gang too.

I also learnt a few lessons whilst I was there. This photo is of Bek's incredibly impressive shoes early on in the day. Most important lesson that I learnt was that dirt and heels don't mix well together after a few hours - the wounds on my poor feel will bear testament to this.

I like this photo of Jason because it a nutshell kind of way, it encompasses a good few things about the races: lots of sun (so knitting a wool/silk 1920s style cloche was a bad idea); some people dressed rather fancily, some others not; cold beer; and not all that many people really taking a huge amount of interest in the horse races themselves.

Trackside

After my horse won!!!

As to the lowering of my standards, this is a little embarrassing to admit but I feel that most blogs are meant at some point to have embarrassing anecdotes in them so here goes. The party carried on well into the evening and later that night, I found myself at the fine Broken Hill establishment, the Mulga, with some nursing buddies. I was looking around the room and was gobsmacked - there appeared to be quite handsome, eligible men everywhere. I'd never seen anything like it! I mentioned this to my friends and they looked at me like I was some kind of crazy woman who had been taking mind-altering substances all afternoon. This was something that I certainly had not been doing, I hadn't even been drinking that much. Pondering it the next day, I realised with horror that in all likelihood, I was in my right mind when I said that - the only explanation that makes any sense to me is that after having been in Wilcannia for a while, my standards have dropped to such a degree that having more than a 5 word vocabulary, being able to read and write and not getting all nutritional requirements from mosie are all that I'm looking for in a man! Please save me from myself......... this is bad!!

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Apologies if my last post was not as coherent as it could have been, I'd just finished my first ever night shift.

The Good: I've joined an indoor soccer team and our first game is on Wed night; I've been out on my first solo ambo calls; a student nurse told be that another nurse (who I think is a fantastic nurse) and myself "really knew our stuff"- I think she was just being nice but it still made me smile, mostly because the stuff I don't know is about a bazillion times greater than the stuff I do know!

The Bad: Night shift. Horrid.

The Ugly: Me after 4 nights.

The only upside of nights is the view as I stumble back home:

The Flinders Ranges

Last week I had a few days off so I decided to head to the Flinders Ranges and do some walking. I'm taking this as evidence that I'm getting used to living out here - whilst I may previously have thought 7 hours a little too far to drive for a couple of days walking, I no longer do. The trip had an auspicious start - I must have been halfway to Broken Hill when the road got closed due to flooding but it was too late to turn around, I wouldn't have been able to make it back. Undeterred, I pushed on and was (un)fortunate enough to meet a lovely South Australian police man and discover that I too seem to have the Compton lead foot - I got a $220 fine (!!!!!) for going 12km (!!!!!!!) over the speed limit but lost no points as it was in SA. Needless to say, I've since overcome my previous aversion to cruise control :)

So I eventually arrived at Wilpena, which is a little town (although that doesn't really describe it well) within the Finders National Park. It has an info centre/general store, camping ground, unity/cabin kind of things and a restaurant & pub. It is lovely. The only people there are those visiting & walking in the area and the only bad thing that I could possibly say about it is that the wallabies are waaaaaaay to tame. They materialize as soon as you've cooked dinner (on the nifty stove I got with my first pay) and then try harder to get some than even Wes does!

On Friday I walked up to Tanderra Saddle which is just below St Mary's Peak, the highest point in the Flinders. The Adnyamathanha people who are the traditional owners of the land ask that you don't climb to the peak as it is central to their creation story (more of which below) however it is rather frustrating to see the peak so close and many European walkers with their poles and proper shoes walking on up whilst your enjoying a summit orange not quite at the summit. But anyway, the views from there were fantastic. The photo on the left is St Mary's Peak, in the middle is the view from the saddle into the pound and on the right is me, doing my best not to get sunburnt.

Wilpena Pound is a strange formation of mountains. Basically, the ridges form a U shape with a very narrow opening at one point only, hence the name pound (think impounded and you'll get the idea). Historically, it has been used for both sheep grazing and wheat growing and so has a really bizarre mix of vegetation and soil when you walk back across it. All in all, it was an awesome day.

The next morning I woke up to quite epic thunder and lightening and though I should probably have a chat to the rangers before I went walking. Good think I did as the peak I was planning to climb that day gets hit by lightening on a very regular basis and they strongly recommended that I didn't. Between that and the willingness of my tent to put up with thunderstorms (it doesn't complain about a little shower too much) I though that maybe I should just cut my losses and hit the road as I'm definitely going to head back when I next have time off to do some more walking. On the way out I did a quick walk up to Arkaroo Rock where there are some amazing cave paintings by the Adnyamathanha people that tell the creation story of Wilpena Pound.

Can you see the two black snakes in the bottom left hand? The story says that there was a gathering of some animals and a couple of humans for a ceremony in the pound. The snakes found out about it and planned to encircle them. The animals looked to see if the stars had risen so they could start and though they saw them but they had mistaken the snakes eyes for the stars (St Mary's Peak) and, to cut the story short, the snakes got them and the bodies of the snakes formed the pound.

There were a few wildflowers out which contrasted beautifully with the orange cliffs on a grey, misty, cold and wet morning (the flowering gums are for you Mum)

And the weird weather seemed to follow me back:

I learnt a few things about South Australians: they're very finicky about their fruit and veg and have tighter customs security than many airports; people driving don't nod and raise a lone finger in greeting like you almost have to here; and they are rather straight down the line about things - I liked these signs a lot:

It was a very good few days.

Firsts

This post, as the title suggests, is all about firsts. On the whole, I like firsts a lot. First time you see something or do something, it's always particularly exciting. Or terrifying. And it's not that what ever it is can never ever be topped or will never ever be as good because that's certainly not the case. I think it's more that there are lots and lots and lots of things I want to do and each time it's another first, well, it kind of feels like I'm actually doing something.

Given the above you might be surprised at some of the firsts that I'm including from the past week but I think they all count!

On Saturday I went to White Cliffs for the first time. It's a small town about 90km north of Wilcannia and all that really happens there is opal mining. 4 of us from the hospital went and it was an awesome day. This is White Cliffs:

It's stinking hot there in the summer, evidenced by the fact that the population doubles in the winter time. To escape the heat, many people in the town live in dugouts. These are great because they are about 18 degrees all year round and any time you want to add an extra room, you can just dig another. This dugout is rented by someone who works at the hospital and it was the first time I've been in a dugout.

You can't really go to White Cliffs without at least having a passing thought about opals, particularly with the number of stories about people stumbling across thousands of dollars worth of opal. My favourite is the one where a young boy was walking home from school behind the machine that is used to grade the roads. It unearthed an opal worth a quarter of a million dollars on the ground in front of him and his family moved out of town immediately! So I went opal fossicking for the first time in this riverbed:

And I found some!!!!! I had never really though that much of opal before this but I think that's because I'd only seen fairly crap stuff that is palmed off onto tourists. The colours (which you can't really see here because they only appear in certain light and then look like they are dancing across the top of the stone) are insane.

The next day I had to go into Broken Hill. As it was a Sunday, I was only expecting woollies and Big W to be open and so I nearly wept for joy when I found a cafe that was open. Below is the first coffee that I've had in weeks. (I also met a large number of Ulysses motorcycle club members in Broken Hill, they are all on their way to WA for a meetup - one of them wanted me to pinch him for luck so I got to pinch a bikie for the first time!)

Whilst it's common knowledge that the winter olympics have just been on, the existence of the Knitting Olympics is a more well kept secret. The Knitting Olympics was first envisioned by the stupendous Yarn Harlot and these are the rules:

Eligibility: Any knitter who, embracing the "Citius, Alitius Fortius" ideal, would like to challenge themselves while embracing the Olympic spirit, and is just whacked enough to play along with me.

Concept: You must cast on a project during the Opening Ceremonies of the Winter Olympics, Friday, February 12, 2010 and finish before the Olympic flame goes out Sunday, February 28. That's 17 days.

Rules:
1. The project must be a challenge for you to complete in 17 days.
2. There are no rules about what a challenge would be. Like the real Olympics, there are many areas to compete in. If you are a new knitter, then a garter stitch baby sweater might do...If you are experienced, use your own conscience.
3. While this is intended to be somewhat difficult (like the Olympics) it is not intended to ruin your life. Don't set yourself up for failure. (Olympic athletes may cry, but they do not whine pitifully, sob and threaten members of their family with pointed sticks because they haven't slept in five days. ) This is intended to (like the Olympics) require some measure of sacrifice, and be difficult, but it should be possible to attain.
4. No casting on before the flame is lit. (The opening ceremonies run from 6-8 pst. If you can't watch, then I'd pick a time in there.)
5. Finish before the flame goes out.
6. You may swatch before the games. (I consider this "training.")

This year I decided to make the Ivy League Vest which I've been eyeing off for a number of years.

I decided on some more autumn-like colours:

And when the body of the knitting was done, it looked like this:

I'm well aware that it looks like something has gone drastically wrong with the top part. However that was all part of the pattern as for the first time in my life, I had to steek, a word that will strike fear in the heart of any knitter who is a steeking virgin. The idea is that you don't leave any holes for the neck or the arms as it's much easier to knit colour work like this in the round. Instead, you incorporate the decreases into your knitting and then take to it with a pair of scissors. This is just before the first steek and I'm pretty sure that the look on my face was one of pure terror.

Post-steek (and in desperate need of Elizabeth Zimmerman's prescribed remedy of a dark room and cool washcloth)

The olympics finished on Sunday (Monday morning our time) and the steeks were cut at about 8pm on Sun night. To cut a long story short, I didn't get to bed till 4am (and was then starting work at 7) but I'd fair isled and steeked for the first time and was done before the flame went out! Hurrah!!! This is the vest in most of its glory - only most because it hasn't yet been blocked in this picture (that's happening as I type) and post blocking, that curling on the neck and bottom will disappear.

And now for the last first, I promise! This was not such a fun as a completely terrifying first that scared the bejebers out of me. It was the first time that I went out to a car accident. The driver was actually someone from work, driving back from White Cliffs and the car had ended up on the embankment on the other side of the road, upside down and facing the wrong direction. The driver was flown out but ok and released the next day and I didn't actually have to do all that much at the site - the nurse educator was at Wilcannia that day and decided that it'd be good for me to see what happens (which it was) but it was a first that I was very very very glad to get out of the way. Next time I'll have a much better idea of what to expect and what I need to do

But to finish on a happier note, how cool is this photo? This was taken on the way back from Broken Hill and it looked like I was about to enter some strange rain like version of the parting of the red sea.

PS - Sorry I haven't answered questions from the last one but this is stupidly long and has taken forever to write so I promise next weeks one will be shorter and include answers!

PPS - For you heathens who have decided I'm just a little confused about the word blog (and you know who you are, I've been told your names), click here and the world will open up for you: www.xkcd.com/148/