Tag Archives: Landscape

Glacier National Park

19 Wednesday Aug 2020

Posted by in Montana, USA

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Postcard views. Need I say more? Before our visit, I didn’t know that Glacier is one of the most popular, most heavily visited US National Parks, despite its remote location in northwest Montana. The peak season is barely three months, and some years less.

Visitors are down 58% this year. BUT, visitor levels in August (right now) are just about back to last year’s levels, and only the western half of the park is open. As the result, the open portion of the park is more crowded than ever. We were hoping to visit during a slightly less crowded time (Nope). August is a fabulous time to be in Montana, probably the best month of the year. Visitors seem to be aware of this fact, and put up with the crowds.

We left home at 7:30 am, and arrived at the park at 8:45 am. Purchasing our America the Beautiful Lifetime Senior Pass ($80) went very quickly. The park attendant was behind a plastic shield, and no signature was required when using a card for payment. We drove to the Apgar Visitors Center, where there is a coffee shop and a park ranger answering questions. I was hoping for a wonderful gift shop in this popular park, but Covid 19 has ruined the shopping experience. There are a limited number of items sold, and only at an outdoor table. I think a much wider variety of Glacier Park souvenirs can be had online (bummer).

Lake McDonald and McDonald Falls

Traffic was light at first along Lake McDonald. On Going-to-the-Sun Road, it was not difficult to pull over to look at the lake, read informational signs, and see trailheads. As we went along, we passed more and more parked cars, and it became clear that hikers who want to spend the day on a specific trail really do need to be in the park around 7 a.m. (as guidebooks suggest) if they want their choice of parking spots. By 8:45 a.m., most parking spots at trailheads were full.

The drive was glorious and the day was perfect. We had cold weather all week, and the forecast was for hot weather (90s!) for the following week. We visited on the perfect day, clear skies and a high of 78o. The mountains appear to be much higher in the park than along the road to our house and in the Kootenai National Forest around us, I’m not sure why. The jagged gray teeth of young mountain peaks at Glacier are impressively threatening.

Heaven’s Peak is the first of the mountains that the road passes, followed by many others, each with its own name. Every inch of the park has been hiked and climbed by visitors since the days when only the Blackfoot lived here.

We intended to stop at the Logan Pass Visitor Center and take a walk on the Hidden Lake Nature Trail. The parking lot was a shifting scrum of SUVs jockeying for spaces that weren’t available. Some vehicles stopped mid-lane and put on their flashers to wait for a spot. We didn’t stay, deciding to push on until we found a less mobbed area. We saw our only wildlife by the Logan Pass Visitors Center, a mountain goat. (The photo is a mountain goat at Glacier National Park from the internet.)

What remains of the Jackson Glacier.

We stopped to look at the Jackson Glacier. Statistics indicate that the park’s glaciers are disappearing, making it a pleasure to see one that is still present. Around every turn, a new vista of trees and mountains opened up.

At Sun Point we found our spot. There is a large parking area and plenty of spaces were available. The trail to Baring Falls gave us a short hike to a beautiful spot, just what we were looking for. We took our masks along, just in case, and it was a good thing. There were people all along the trail. After a few hundred yards of mask-on-mask-off-mask-on, I left my mask on. The path paralleled the shore of Lake St. Mary with views over the lake and the mountains. I would have liked to go down to the shore, but it was a steep scramble, and I stayed on the trail. We arrived at Baring Falls, a cascade that drains into Lake St. Mary. Visitors lounged on the shore, youngsters climbed on logs that crossed the stream, and others waded in the shallow, icy water.

Lake St. Mary from the Baring Falls trail.

Back at Sun Point after our walk to Baring Falls, we found a picnic table in the shade and ate our lunch. From there we continued to the end of the road at Rising Sun. There are signs and cones the direct cars to turn around here and head back. In other years, Going-to-the-Sun Road is open all the way across the park to the St. Mary Visitor Center. From there, visitors can make the return drive around the outside of the park. Though the return route is much longer, the time is about the same, as 2/3 of the trip is on Rte. 2, the major highway. You trickle along Going-to-the-Sun Road, come out of the park in the town of St. Mary, and drive another 1-1/2 to 2 hours around the perimeter of the park to get back to West Glacier. Some visitors choose to base themselves in East Glacier to hike the popular trails on that side of the park. Not this year.

The cloud looks just like a daytime crescent moon.
A chunk of snow from winter 2019

The eastern portion of Glacier National Park is controlled by the Blackfoot Tribe. This year, the tribe decided that they did not want the risk that tribal members would contract the virus from visitors, and the east side of the park and that portion of the road are closed. They may reopen next year, based on the tribe’s decision next winter. When you consider that Native Americans have been badly affected by the Covid virus, the Blackfoot decision is understandable. In previous years, more than one million people visited Glacier Park. That’s a lot of potential virus-carriers.

The portion of Glacier National Park that is open is filled with spectacular views and lots of places to visit. Despite the ups and downs of the Year of the Pandemic (What animal should represent this year? A poisonous snake?), it’s a great place to visit. So many gorgeous vistas!

Going to the Sun Road

Post Script: I thought about finding a less visited area for a second visit to Glacier National Park, and Polebridge, MT looked like just the place. It’s a sort of side entrance, and there are several lakes to visit. I read about it online and found that I am not the first person to think of this. In 2020, entries to the park through Polebridge are up 40%. Instead, we are hiking on the trails around lakes near our house where we are usually the only ones out.

A Window Into Montana

08 Saturday Aug 2020

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“You couldn’t take a bad picture here,” Jonathan said, looking out the car window.

He was right. Everywhere you look driving into the mountains around us are stands of lodgepole pine, narrow avalanche chutes blanketed in grass, and bare faces of stone bordered by undulating piles of scree.

The day was overcast and cool, quite a change from recent 90o days. Only a mile or two down the road, we pulled over, put on the turn signal and got out to stare overhead at a big hawk. A truck passed us, the passenger giving a “What the heck?” gesture.

Our destination was Big Therriault Lake, 28 miles to the east of our current home in Fortine. We stopped to take photos of deer, ducks, and the beautiful water of the lake.

The rain began just as we were ready to picnic, and ended not long after. We set out around the lake, a beautiful walk with the sun coming out, the lake turquoise and absolutely still. There were no other people on the trail. Nearly back to where we started, a woman glided by on a paddleboard, two people in kayaks not far away. Their bicycles leaned against the picnic table, pickup truck parked nearby. They had everything you could want for a Montana day at the lake.

Nature’s bonsai garden, and a strange flower.

Curiosities of the OH/PA border.

20 Saturday Jun 2020

Posted by in Ohio

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What makes Ohio different from other places we’ve visited? There are a few things that have impressed and surprised us. One is grass–there are huge lawns around many houses, and tracts of open land covered by grass without a house nearby. These are often lovely, but who mows all that acreage? True, there are lots of gray-haired guys on riding mowers–is it really that much fun?

We were impressed by another natural feature, rhododendrons! Huge, enormous rhododendrons, as big as, no, bigger, than the side of a house.

Quirky places are everywhere, including here. We liked the roof without a house:

Our current home is just a couple of miles from the Pennsylvania border. In the town of Meadville is the amazing PennDOT Crawford County office. There’s a garden of oversized Seussian flowers and plants on the corner by the stoplight. Along the side of the depot is a remarkable mural panorama of Pennsylvania icons. The mural is bolted to chain-link fencing extending down the road for hundreds of yards. A steady trickle of people visit. No one was there when we arrived, then a couple stopped, took a photo and left. We walked down the edge of the highway looking at the mural, and when we returned to the parking lot, a family was exploring the sculptures.

Knock-your-socks-off effort went into making the mural, yet there is no onsite information about this extensive installation. Fortunately, the Uncovering PA website tells the story. Led by a professor from Allegheny College, the sculptures and mural were designed in 2000 and built over ten years, with lots of inspiration and suggestions from students and local residents. So many signs, so many bolts! The material, old road signs, means this is a heck of a durable piece.

The sections show local landmarks, the changing weather, trucks on the highway, and even Lake Erie.

The ferris wheel was missing a few of its seats from wear and tear, but the hot air balloons still looked pretty sturdy. I wanted to go for a ride but I didn’t quite fit into the basket.

Meanwhile, Jonathan hid behind a turkey so that he didn’t have to help with the raking.

This was one of our favorite field trips so far. We even saw some of the animals from the mural. On our route going to Meadville, a fox crossed the road in front of us, while a fawn leaped into the road in front of us on the way home. It was never in danger from the car, and it’s always fun to see the resident wildlife.

We’re looking for more distinguishing characteristics–they don’t seem hard to find.

Northern Ohio begins to reveal its secrets

13 Saturday Jun 2020

Posted by in Ohio

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Symbols on a local tourist map turned out to be covered bridges, and on a perfect sunny afternoon we set out to see three that are all very near Conneaut.

Whizzing by on the highway, Ohio is flat and featureless. The creeks that wind their way into Lake Erie are invisible. In contrast, covered bridges predate the interstate, along roads that follow the contours of the land, skirting fields that alternate with stands of woodland, gently curving around low hills. The road dips down toward the creek, turns to cross perpendicular to the stream, then straightens out again and climbs up to the level of the fields.

Covered bridges: the same, but different

Farmland now competes with housing, creating a suburban/rural combination that is new to us. Our speed dropped as we navigated the country roads and took time to pull over and admire the sights. We were never more than a few miles from the center of Conneaut, yet the landscape was entirely different. Adjacent to Conneaut Creek are vineyards, part of the local wine industry. With everything closed, we have not been able to taste Ohio wine yet.

Between stops on the covered bridge trail, we passed a huge octagonal barn, a wonderful structure that isn’t built any more. Beyond the next bridge, the map on my phone showed Bear Creek Waterfall, so we stopped. A broad sheet of water runs across the rock, pooling part way down before flowing into the creek. Imagine this as the centerpiece of a vast Japanese garden, water flowing across the rock, serene and constant. We watched the flow of the water for a few minutes before continuing on to the next bridge. At the end of our tour, we were at the opposite end of town, still only a few miles from home. All this in one afternoon!

The more we explore, the more we find. Along our route among the covered bridges, we found the Clara D. Peet Preserve, a grassy trail into the woods that we plan to walk another day. Online, I discovered a map of Ashtabula County parks, including at least two others we’ll enjoy exploring during the remainder of our month here.

Guest Post: Visiting Chernobyl

09 Monday Sep 2019

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by Joyce Heard

I am delighted to introduce my good friend, Joyce Heard. A fellow Harvard grad, Joyce worked in journalism in the US, then moved to France after meeting her husband Jean-Marie while on a Rotary International fellowship. Now a long term European observer, Joyce and Jean-Marie divide their time between Aix-en-Provence and southern Morocco. When they travel farther afield, it is often to unusual destinations, this time Chernobyl. Joyce agreed to share her post with us.

Chernobyl

Sitting in our garden in Belgium in April 1986 worrying about whether the radiation cloud from  Chernobyl would head our way I never imagined that 33 years later we would be visiting the site of the world’s worst nuclear disaster as a tourist attraction. But that’s what we did in September 2019. Today, radiation levels in much of the exclusion zone are just as low as elsewhere. We wore Geiger counters during our day tour and periodic checks showed levels well below legal levels in Ukraine and the rest of the world. There are of course hot spots where debris has been buried and near the number 4 reactor which exploded and caught fire releasing at least 5% of the radioactive reactor core into the atmosphere.

Chernobyl reactor covered in concrete shell.

There are two exclusion zones surrounding the nuclear site where all of the reactors have now been shut down. No one is allowed to live within 10 kilometers of the reactor, which is now encased in a multi billion dollar shell designed and mostly funded by Western donors. A first concrete casing hurriedly installed quickly proved inadequate. In the 30 kilometer radius zone there are presently about between 4,000 and 8,000 people who live and work, the majority of them firefighters and people still working on decontamination in rotating shifts of days or a week. Complete clean-up of the area is expected take until 2065.

Our guide, Victoria, a young lady who learned her French at University in Kiev, explained that firefighters are extremely important in the zone since many trees have been planted. The trees have drawn up radioactive elements from the soil so if they burn the radioactivity will be released. Although the Ukrainian Communist government ordered all of the 163,000 inhabitants of the exclusion zone to move out taking barely anything with them, some of the peasants have quietly slipped back into the 30-kilometer area and have moved into their previous homes.

I read of one study that found that these hardy folks, who survive on small pensions, handouts and whatever food they can produce in their possibly irradiated gardens, have had better health outcomes than many of the residents who were uprooted and placed in shoddy housing blocks in the city away from their lifelong connections.

Joyce, a Chernobyl resident, & her guide Victoria.

Since just the two of us went with a driver/guide we were able to visit one of these peasants, whom our guide Victoria has befriended. The woman is 85 years old. Her  husband died just a few months ago. We bought a bag of groceries for her at one of the small shops in the exclusion zone catering to the few residents and tourists.

One of the saleswomen at the shop asked Victoria if Jean Marie was single. Apparently tourists are a temptation for get-away marriages for some of the few women working in the exclusion zone. At the babuschka’s we smiled and shook hands and gave her our gift in the cheerful courtyard of her dacha where much to my amazement her pet dog, a plump striped cat named Marquise, and a bevy of hens were all running around together in perfect harmony.

Touring the area is a window into a frozen era of the 60s and 70s when the Soviet Union believed its way of life could accomplish anything. The town of Pripiyat, nearest the reactor site, was custom built for the 50,000 engineers and other technical workers creating the reactor complex. Gradually falling apart it still boasts of modern luxuries in stark contrast to the simple homes of the local peasants. Modern apartment blocks are scattered in green spaces and workers could dine at a cafeteria with stained glass windows worthy of a cathedral. I couldn’t face going into the hospital but my husband, Jean Marie, said the operating rooms are still there.

The eeriest sight is that of the amusement park where the wind was moving the Ferris wheel chairs as if the wheel was about to swing into action.

About Visiting Chernobyl

The trip was instructive, and the pork we were served for lunch at the Chernobyl restaurant was some of the most tender we have ever tasted. However, I would say Chernobyl is only worth a visit if you already plan to be in Kiev. Local agencies offer day tours for both groups and individuals. It is not possible to access the site without signing up for a tour.

Chernobyl has already become over-touristed due to the HBO “Chernobyl” series and having been featured in the video game “Call of Duty.” The kindergarten, with white boards, a few toys, and its cast iron beds for napping gathering dust, feels staged when the next group of tourists comes in right as we leave. Approximately 10,000 tourists per month come to visit the site and take selfies. When we stopped at the best spot to take photos of the sarcophagus covering the reactor a van load of tourists was already there including two wearing fake white anti-radiation suits.

Chernobyl may be interesting for HBO fans, video gamers, and nuclear historians, but it’s not for everyone.

Cairns: Tropical North Queensland

11 Saturday May 2019

Posted by in Australia, Cairns

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Before the plane lands in Cairns you see the new environment. Unlike anywhere else we’ve been in Australia, the forest of north Queensland is dense green. Enough rain falls year round to keep a thick cover of trees and underbrush growing. We thought Darwin would be like this, but even though it is often hotter, Darwin is in seasonally dry tropical forest. There isn’t enough rain in the dry season to keep everything growing. As a consequence the forest around Darwin is thinner, with less underbrush.

Not only is the forest around Cairns dense, it covers coastal mountains so steep that only a few roads cut across into the interior. Though we are well into autumn in the southern hemisphere, the temperature hits 80° F. most days, and we do use the pool in our yard. Two blocks away is Kewarra Beach. On weekends there are lifeguards and the net to keep out box jellyfish. There are reminders about other hazards, as well.

We had a preliminary look at the coast, driving from our base in Kewarra Beach north as far as Wangetti.

Next we went inland to Barron Gorge. There are boardwalks built along the edge of the cliff overlooking the gorge. There isn’t a swimming hole here because the water eventually runs into the power generating station for Cairns. The view is lovely and we saw new birds along the way.

At the far end of the complex is Wright’s Overlook, where you can see Cairns in the distance. We’ll do more exploring across this area now that we’re back on our schedule of staying for a month rather than having to “run off” after a week or two.

 

Uluru: A Wonder of the World

03 Friday May 2019

Posted by in Australia, The Ghan

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We planned to skip the Ghan’s Uluru option (crowds, distance, expense) and tour Alice Springs, where the train stops for the day. We changed our minds when we found that the scenic flight from Alice to Uluru included a stop on the ground to see Uluru up close, a drive around the rock, and some time to walk around.

From the air, we finally saw The Outback. Not a bare desert, but a vast area of tan grasses, spindly gum trees, and lots of an invasive grass from S. Africa that we are assured no animal will eat. Parts of the Outback resemble the Sonoran Desert of Arizona and northern Mexico. What differs is its immensity. We flew more than 400 km and saw roads only at takeoff and landing. There was one town, Hermannsburg, a former mission. There was also Pine Gap. If you watch Netflix, you may have seen the new show set at the CIA/Australian joint spy base. Having seen a few episodes, it was a bit strange to actually see the field of white domes that covers the spying equipment. Beyond Pine Gap and Hermannsburg, we saw no isolated farmsteads, roads, trains, trucks, vehicle tracks, not even any animals. Somewhere below us was a cattle station of over one million acres, yet we saw no evidence of this. There were no fences, water tanks, windmills, air strips, the features of remote farms.

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Geology and vegetation create the landscape. What looks like the green verges of a superhighway is a geological fault. A crack in the earth lets a bit of water escape and a streak of dark green trees emerges. Pale earth is peppered with green shrubs, alongside an empty river cut through rock. An irregular band of white pools crossed our route, a dry river of salt, hundreds of thousands of tons too remote to mine. Straight lines on the ground are bands of red, ochre, and tan stone lying one beside the next, straight as an arrow, or bending in parallel lines created eons ago. On the distant horizon rounded hills suggest this flat plain eventually ends.

Some of the landscape recalls aboriginal painting, circles, dots, lines of contrasting colors. How can there be no roads? Finally, I begin to see roads, threads of orange-brown.

After an hour and a half in the air, we approached Uluru, imposing even from above. The aerial circuit was spectacular, and was followed by a swing around Kata Tjuta, a knobby rock formation that is close by, aeronautically speaking, though it would take at least an extra day to visit by car from Uluru.

Kata Tjuta, with Uluru in the background.

We are compressing a three day visit into one, our aerial outback tour followed by a picnic lunch on the ground at a shelter perfectly positioned to let us soak in Uluru while sitting in the shade. Next we walk to the Mutitjulu Waterhole with a stop at some rock art along the way. Everyone sees different things in the rock art.

Our tour guide was a white Australian, young enough to be completely captivated by Aboriginal stories of The Dreamtime. The age of rock art is given as 5000 to 8000 years old. When we asked whether there had been any archaeological investigation of the area to provide samples for dating the rock art, the young man enthusiastically told us that archaeology wasn’t needed because the stories of The Dreamtime are supported by visual proof. “See the way there is a dark shadow on the rock that follows the curve of the cliff?” “That is the snake from the story of….” He believes that there is nothing more needed than the stories to explain Uluru. Science is not part of his mindset, at least not right now. We wonder why the guides are not Aboriginal people.

Completing a circuit of Uluru by car, we hear the history of visits and visitors. Many people have climbed it over the years, and though the aboriginal owners have banned climbing as of October 2019, there will be controversy until no one remembers when it could be climbed. We are not staying long enough to consider a climb.

On our return flight, I try to photograph as many of the different patterns of landscape as I can, knowing that a photo through the window of a small plane will be no substitute for seeing the many forms of the land that expand the definition of “desert” to a much broader range of shapes and colors. Back in Alice Springs, I am amazed and content. The tiny plane barely scared me and our visit to Uluru was beyond great.

The day is not over, as the entire train of 300 dines al fresco at the old Alice Telegraph Station. As the sky darkens and the stars come out, we walk away from the illuminated dining area to look up. The Milky Way is a starry shawl thrown into the heavens, while the constellations shine brightly, performing the fandango of the night sky.

Internet Photo

 

The Ghan: Railroad Adventure to Katharine, NT

01 Wednesday May 2019

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We wanted to see the interior of Australia, that vast dry landscape that fuels novel after novel, starting for me with The Thorn Birds, on through the mysteries of Arthur Upfield (The Bone is Pointed). Everyone in Australia knows the true stories of exploration by Burke and Wills, who completed their crossing of the continent, dying of starvation at the end of their journey. There are ranches (stations) of more than a million acres, where drones are starting to be used to track animals. We wanted to see a region that is so resistant to encroachment by man.

Australia is both huge and largely empty, and travelers who want to leave the principal urban regions have to go prepared. Having left our camping and RVing days behind us, we decided that taking the train from Darwin to Adelaide would give us a chance to see some of the “Red Center.” We booked our trip on the Ghan, choosing the expedition version that stops each day in the 4 day/3 night journey for a side trip. This was perfect for us. We took the Indian Pacific train across the country from Sydney to Perth last month, and it didn’t work out at all, so with a bit of trepidation, we set off for the Darwin train station.

This time, the trip started on time, and after an early lunch–who doesn’t enjoy a dining car?–we stopped in Katharine, a mere 300 km down the road, for an afternoon visit to Katharine Gorge. We took the relaxing trip, a boat cruise along the sides of the gorge with a stop to look at aboriginal rock art. There is more spectacular rock art in Australia, but most of it requires a healthy hike in the high heat and humidity. I asked our boatman whether the holes in his hat were from a crocodile bite. (He laughed.) We did see a salt water crocodile on our cruise. They have a very pointed nose and are only 4-6 ft. long. They couldn’t even get your foot in their mouth…..

Back on board the train, we watched the dry scenery until sunset, then met new people at dinner. Most of the other travelers were Australians taking the trip to see more of their country, though we chatted with people from the UK, the US, and New Zealand. Overnight, the Ghan crossed a lot of empty territory. We watched the sun come up over a dry, dry landscape. It’s not desert with sand dunes, but desert with colored rock, low scrub bushes, and sparse grass.This was Day 1. More soon.

The Heat of Darwin

19 Friday Apr 2019

Posted by in Australia, Darwin

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Stepping outside the airport terminal in Darwin, the humidity wraps you like a thick fog. It’s over 90°F, and barely started on the walk to collect the rental car, our clothes are sticking to us. Our new Airbnb is nearby, our host is waiting, and we get all the instructions we need in short order. Two minutes after his departure, we are sitting in the pool. It feels heavenly, and slowly my brain comes back online.

We are in Darwin at a good time, the start of the dry season. It may not rain at all while we are here, there are few bugs, and the crocodiles are retreating into the estuaries (I don’t think I will be swimming, just in case). Within two days, we adjust to the weather by getting up early to look at birds and avoid the heat, shop in the air conditioned stores during the heat of the day, and swim or sit on the patio in the late afternoon. Cumulus clouds build into giant fluffy white mounds. They are the Queen Mum of clouds, in stately progress toward the horizon. There are a surprising number of new birds in our yard and the nearby park, and a pair of huge flying foxes (bats) come out of a nearby tree at dusk. The last rays of the sun turn their leathery, translucent wings orange as they flap in a leisurely loop around the neighborhood (internet photo). When they return to the tree, they hang upside down. Folded-up, they return to their dark brown color, resembling a demented cat hanging by its tail. I’ve never seen anything like this. Welcome to Darwin, a different way of life.

There are lots of places where we can watch the sun set over the water. An hour before sunset, the park between our house and the beach comes alive.  Families emerge to walk or sit and chat, while the “pock pock” of bouncing balls becomes noticeable. Bicyclists whiz along the path. The sounds of people in the parkland continues until well after dark. Streetlights come on but people disappear only gradually. It is much nicer out after dark than it was in the heat of the day.

 

 

The Indian Pacific Raillway Takes Us Across

07 Sunday Apr 2019

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We spent a peculiar four days and three nights crossing Australia from Sydney to Perth. The trip included days of being glued to the train window watching the scenery as it went from tall trees to flat, dry, and empty, liberally dotted with kangaroos and emus. On the other hand, we took this trip to enjoy a number of interesting stops along the way. Due to a breakdown before we ever boarded, we didn’t get any of those opportunities that were such a large part of our decision to take the train. Never mind the downside, the view out the windows was fascinating!

The land became drier and drier as we moved west. The soil ranged from red to white.Water for irrigation is running out and we saw recently abandoned grapevines.

Salt flats between Adelaide and Tarcoola.

We got off the train for a few minutes at Broken Hill, which has interesting train murals. Twenty minutes was just enough time to walk up and down the platform and get some fresh air.

Our next stop was Adelaide, and it was dark when we arrived. The final stop during the journey was Kalgoorlie, where we had an hour to stretch our legs. By then, our third full day on the train, everyone was happy to disembark for a while. We strolled around in the early morning light.

Life on board the train was not uncomfortable, though it did get to be a lot of the same sights after three days of constant motion. There were only a couple of places where the route turned and let us see the cars ahead.

It’s always fun to eat in the dining car of a train, making meals an event. The food was good, and the company excellent. Having Lyra with us made it more fun. The three of us made a winning trivia, team, too.

Outside the train, especially in the late afternoon, we saw kangaroos browsing as they watched us pass. There were emus, hawks, and other birds, though we did not see any feral camels, despite spending many hours looking out the window. The sunsets mixed orange sunlight with blue, gray and white fingers of cloud in patterns that changed as we watched. We arrived in Perth after dark, the last kangaroos long since passed. Disembarking was a bit like emerging from a space ship might be. We set down in another landscape, completely different than what we had been seeing out the window. Perth is a large city, and we had to re-engage with reality, find a taxi and go pick up our rental car. Our days of staring out at Australian landscape now over, though well worth the time spent.

If anyone is interested in the story of how our Indian Pacific trip ended up with minimal stops, leaving Sydney late and arriving in Perth late, I’d be happy to tell you.