Drawing in Ink and Wash The Panboola Wetlands are an inspiration to artists – amateur and professional alike. This participant in a workshop guided by local visual artist and arts educator Veronica O’Leary, is drawing on her natural surroundings while practicing new techniques.
It’s hard to believe it is only just over 18 months since I last posted about Panboola (see: The Ephemeral Festival) – a precious and cherished wetland reserve in my neighbourhood.
It feels much longer: probably because, like the rest of the world, we’ve been doing it tough in our corner. Much of that period, we have been subjected to Covid-19 restrictions and flooding rains – and those tribulations have come hard on the heels of long-standing drought and devastating bushfires. Natural spaces, like Panboola, have been a much-needed balm for the soul.
The wetlands only exist as a community space because one individual: local resident and animal-lover, Alexandra Seddon, originally purchased a 6-hectares lot to conserve it as a sanctuary for the resident birds. Over the years, through a variety of means, this space has been expanded. On Sunday, the 6th of November 2022, we celebrated Panboola’s 20th anniversary, happily proclaiming “20 years of connecting community through conservation”. The celebrations included exhibits, music, workshops, food (including a birthday cake), and visiting dignitaries.
Of course, the anniversary date was not exact: once again an event had been postponed (and relocated!) because of bad weather. And, while 2022 is the anniversary of the formation of the Pambula Wetlands and Heritage Reserve (PWHR), both the lands and the management of them have changed and grown over that time.
When I first looked back over the photos I had taken on the day, I was a bit alarmed that they do not give much of a ‘sense of place’, and are, instead, predominantly portraits. Upon reflection, this is probably appropriate, because it is the Management Committee, the private and civic benefactors, the paid Coordinator and unpaid volunteers, and the appreciative community, that make this space what it is.
I have posted photos of the land itself before (see: North of Eden).
This time, however, join me for a focus on the people.
Setting Up A range of community services, local artists, and regional chapters of nature organisations have set up displays or stalls, dotted around the grounds.
Kids with their Origami Under the imprimatur of the Community Peace Harmony Project, children …
Hands on the Origami … work through the steps in folding origami cranes.
A Boy and the Cranes Of course, there is always one who wants to see how to undo them!
Paper Cranes in the Trees The origami is auspiced by the Community Peace & Harmony Project.
In the Trees In addition to the cranes, the flowering trees are adorned with colourful bits of crochet in various forms.
Skittles In keeping with the philosophy of reducing environmental impact, Panboola makes lawn games like skittles – rather than fixed facilities – available.
Beyond the Path A father and daughter explore one of the moveable sculptures on display for the day.
Artist at Work Veronica O’Leary, local visual artist and arts educator, demonstrates drawing techniques in a workshop …
Panboola in Ink and Wash … that takes inspiration from the immediate surrounds: the wildlife, the flora and the landscape of the wetlands.
Drawing in Ink and Wash Workshop participants are focused and productive.
Billy and Bloom Coffee & Tea Small local businesses contribute their services at reduced prices to support the party.
Michelle Richmond’s Orb Nearby Tharwa Valley Forge runs workshops on blacksmithing, leatherwork, and metalwork – among other things. The sculptured orbs that participants have produced make a wonderful addition to the wetlands environment.
Barbara Haseloff and Dr Michael Holland Mid-morning, we are all invited back to marquee for the formal proceedings – complete with dignitaries. Our local State Parliament Member is greeted by a member of the Management Committee.
John Dawson The Committee President opens the birthday proceedings …
Robyn Kesby … and the Committee Secretary recounts the history of the wetlands.
Audience in the Tent
Dr Michael Holland Our local Member for Bega makes his remarks – talking about his personal love of wetlands and marshes.
Birthday Cake Naturally, an anniversary or birthday requires a cake – which is cut by Committee Members, past and present.
Grazing Table The free-form food table is a beautiful compliment to the natural surroundings.
Wood Carver On the wetlands, local craftsmen …
New Moon Spoons … display their wares, and demonstrate how to make them.
Layers of History The Venetian harbour of Rethymno first operated some time after 961, during the Byzantine period. Today, lined with modern cafes and tour boats, it is a place for locals to fish and tourists to wander. The Egyptian lighthouse that marks the port entrance was built some time in the 1830s.
Crete, in the Mediterranean Sea, is Greece’s southern-most administrative region and the country’s largest and most populous island. The landscape has given up artifacts that are evidence of human settlement as early as 130,000 years ago. Even today, there are ruins and buildings dating across several civilizations.
The island’s long (1,046 km (650 mi)) and beautiful coastline is bounded in the north by the Aegean Sea and by the Libyan Sea in the south. The land is craggy and mountainous: about 5 to 10 million years ago, an intense tectonic uplift of the whole Cretan area gave rise to the many gorges, caves, and plateaus found today (see: The Formation of the Cretan Gorges). A high range – comprised of six different groups of mountains – crosses the island from west to east.
The most mountainous region is Rethymno (Rethymnon), the smallest prefecture on Crete. It runs north-south, with the White Mountains forming a border in the west, and Mt. Psiloritis delineating the east.
I was there on a tour-bus day-trip. We had started in the early morning in Heraklion, the prefecture to the east, and had driven along the rugged north coast before turning at Rethymno and following the winding, precipitous mountain highway south to Preveli. Once there, I had time to walk down the steep and rocky cliff path to a beautiful beach, where I could bathe in the Libyan Sea and walk through a rare and precious forest of Theophrastus palms (Phoenix theophrasti) (see: Preveli Beach and Palm Forest).
The return trip followed the same narrow and winding highway north through the spectacular Kourtaliotiko Gorge (Asomatos Gorge). This time, however, we stopped briefly to admire the jagged carbonate rocks that made up the gorge and the little hermitage or chapel that is nestled into one of the sides.
We also stopped in the beautiful and historically rich capital city of Rethymno, originally founded during the Minoan civilization (3500 – 1100 BC), and still showing architectural evidence of the Venetian occupation (circa 1250 – 1646), as well as the subsequent conquest by the Ottoman Empire (1646 – 1941). I wandered the streets, admiring the abundance of local produce, the unique shopping, and the centuries of architectural history.
Coastline from the Bus As our bus takes us north, away from Preveli Beach (see: Preveli Beach and Palm Forest), I look back over the rugged landscape that defines southern Crete. (iPhone12Pro)
Venetian Bridge While we were driving, I was glad to catch sight of this much-photographed Venetian Bridge over the Megalopotamos River. (iPhone12Pro)
Kourtaliotiko Gorge We hadn’t been on the road long when we stopped briefly to admire the jagged rocks of the Kourtaliotiko Gorge …
Hermitage or Shrine in Kourtaliotiko Gorge … and the once-isolated shrine, nestled into the mountainside where the highway now runs.
Drivers We weren’t the only bus stopping, and our driver was happy to share a brief smoke and chat with an old friend.
Tour Guides and Bus Drivers
Fishing Boats I started my city walk in the historic Rethymno Harbour, …
Textured Walls … where old buildings speak of days gone by.
New Lamp : Old Walls
Knossos Tavern Colourful coffee shops and taverns, named for local persons and places, promise fresh and tasty food.
Archaeological Museum of Rethymno Now housing many artifacts from the ancient Minoan ruins nearby, the Church of Saint Francis dates back to the beginning of the 16th century.
Shopping Streets Tourist shops, with everything from fine gold to local herbs, are nestled into the narrow Venetian streets.
Ceramic Door Knobs
Tourist Trinkets Shops aimed squarely at tourists offer figurines depicting local heroes from Minoan and Greek mythology.
The Great Gate – Porta Guora A Venetian gate remains from a 16th century fortress …
Old City Gate … and still makes for a grand entryway into and out of the Old Town.
The Church of Four Martyrs This relatively new church, inaugurated in 1975, is built near the spot where four men from Rethymno were executed in 1824 by the Turks for refusing to convert to Islam. They were honoured as Orthodox saints in 1837.
City Park and Urban Art The nearby Rethymnon Municipal Garden is a pleasant break from the city streets. (iPhone12Pro)
Kostis Giampoudakis Identified as a local hero, Giampoudakis died while battling the Ottoman Turks as part of the Cretan rebellion in 1866 at Arkadi Monastery. (iPhone12Pro)
Ancient Fountain – New Restaurant New development in the ancient city of Rethymno has had to incorporate ancient ruins and remains. The Rimondi Venetian Fountain, with its elegant Corinthian capitals, adds a pleasant coolness to an inner-city space.
The Rimondi Fountain Eight fountains in Rethymno are preserved; this one, built in 1626, is the only one from the Venetian years. According to legend, drinking the waters here guarantee eternal youth.
Old Street with an Enclosed Balcony The Old City includes some elegant examples of Ottoman architecture.
Doorways I spent some time exploring the more “ordinary” streets in the Old City.
Street Art and Body Art The Old City is a delightful mix of preserved buildings and modern colour.
Lighthouse on Rethymno Harbour My walk finishes where I started – on the historically layered waterfront.
Fortunately, I have learned to set my walking app to trace my path when I walk through new locations. It – like Ariadne’s thread – was able to lead me back through the labyrinth of streets to the bus in time for the drive back.
And, I took a little bit of the region home with me: I am still enjoying the rich smells of the beautifully packaged Cretan mountain herbs I bought in one of the many tourist shops.
Sadhu Smoking Followers Shiva – the destroyer and the protector in the Hindu trimurti (holy trinity) – are well known for smoking hashish. They are emulating their God, who is often depicted meditating alone on Mount Kailash in the Himalayas, his eyes half-closed from the effects of the hash in his chillum – a traditional clay pipe.
When I spend time in the crush of Indian streets, rubbing shoulders with holy men and drinking masala chai with the locals, I always come away with some new realisation about myself, or the world.
My first visit to Varanasi was not my first trip to India, but it was revelatory. Most of my time – from pre-dawn to post-sunset – was spent on the ghats that lead down to the Mother Ganges: the holiest place in this most sacred of Indian cities (see: Weekly Wanders Varanasi). The shimmering heat in the air had me wandering in a bit of a daze as I watched – and attempted to understand – the richness of life going on around me.
I was travelling with photographers Gavin Gough and Matt Brandon; because it was a photographic trip, and not a ‘tour’, I had plenty of time to immerse myself and think about what I was seeing and how I was seeing it. It was easy to understand how Western seekers of a different way of being could get swept up in the magical spiritualism of the place. There is even a name for it: India Syndrome (see: Firstpost, Mythical or Mystical?).
My sense of slight disorientation probably had more to do with the openness of strangers: pilgrims who allowed themselves to be photographed, locals who shared what little they had, and the women, who, just that morning had made offerings to Mother Ganges on my behalf (see: Morning Puja). Of course, mild anxiety about the polluted river water I had allowed to touch my lips as part of the puja, lack of sleep as a result of excitement and early mornings, and/or the rich smells of hashish and incense on the hot air all added to a feeling of unreality.
So, it felt perfectly normal to be invited into a priest’s tent-like enclosure, and sit cross-legged on the floor as his acolytes helped him prepare the charas for his clay pipe.
Although the use of cannabis products among holy men, particularly those who follow Lord Shiva, is ignored by authorities, it is not actually legal in India. When the sadhu’s pipe was passed to me, I bowed my head in reverence, and passed it on without partaking.
Even in a magic place like Varanasi, partaking in illicit drug use with strangers seemed a bridge too far!
Kids in the Market Even though the caste system in India is technically illegal, I still get the sense that these children’s future is largely determined by the station of their parents.
Man on a Stoop The streets leading to the ghats are crowded with shops and people.
Varanasi Laneway So much of ‘everyday life’ is conducted in the streets and laneways.
Red Temple on the Ghat The river and the ghats are busy any time of day or night, but Dashashwamedh Ghat is especially so. Visitors and pilgrims flock to it for the performance of the evening Aarati (see: Life and Death).
Family People come from all over India to enjoy the evening ritual.
Women in Red As the sun goes down, friends and family sit on the steps and wait.
Boats on the Ganges Other watchers hire a spot on one of the many boats on the water, where the diyas – small lamps with a candle surrounded by flowers – float on the river.
Mixing Lassi There is plenty of food available in the streets leading away from the darkening ghats.
Selling Pots and Pans Crowded stores selling all manner of goods line the narrow streets.
Marigolds in the Mud At the edge of the Ganges River, ritual flowers are everywhere. I was told that these were laid out for a child who had died.
Hands and Offerings Elsewhere on the ghats, Hindu priests construct elaborate offerings for the Gods.
Buildings on the Ghats All along the ghats, little shrines are tucked into corners of the rising buildings.
Orange Shrine Inside the shrine, fresh flowers are garlanded over Lord Hanuman, the monkey God.
Keeper of the Shrine Hanuman is an avatar of Lord Shiva in Shaivism; my host poses himself with a trishula,Shiva’s trident.
Sadhu Blessings
Acolyte The sadhu’s helper is a handsome young man.
Smoking a Chillum He has earned his place in the smoker’s circle.
Another Holy Man
Haircut on the Ghats Back in the heat and bright light along the river, …
Having a Haircut … everyday life continues.
Simple Pleasures Everyday, this man comes to the ghats with bags of birdseed …
The Birdman … and takes great pleasure …
Feeding the Birds … in feeding the pigeons.
Untouchables Mum watches on as I interact with a little girl who is the daughter of a man who manages the cremation pyres on Harishchandra Ghat.
Flower Girl They sell ceremonial flowers; naturally, I couldn’t resist!
During our daily reviews back in our hotel rooms, we critiqued the photos we had taken, and mused how they could have been better “… in a perfect world …” with a bit more height or distance, or better light, or less distraction in the background, etcetera.
Certainly, as I look back on these old pictures, I can think of a number of things I’d like to improve.
Even so, they evoke memories of a truly magical time in an other-worldly place that I will always cherish.
Doorway into Nothing Beautiful entryways into tumbled buildings and nonexistent rooms give a clue to the richness of life that was once in the Al Munisifeh quarter of Ibra in Oman.
There is something ineffably sad about an abandoned city or town.
Ibra is one of the oldest cities in Oman, and home to some of the biggest tribes in the country. It grew rich because of its location on the major trade route between Muscat, Sur and Zanzibar, becoming a centre of trade, religion, education, and art. We we passing through on our way to the Sharqiya Desert (see: Life in the Desert and Desert Dreams).
Al Munisifeh is a virtually deserted tribal village just two kilometres outside of Ibra. The empty village is surrounded by remnants of its original walls, with gateways at either end. Relatively modern houses are interspersed with empty lots and crumbling multi-story mansions built of mud-brick and stone. Roofs and floors have mostly disappeared, and some skeleton buildings look ready to collapse at any moment.
Our guide was vague about the actual history of the village, and the reasons for abandoning it, and I’ve not been able to fill in the blanks online.
So, we will just have to let our imaginations run wild as we wander through an empty village with still-beautiful doors, windows, and dreams.
From the Car Oman is not a particularly big country, and the highways are superb – but it still feels like you cover a lot of empty ground getting around.
Empty Bench In the deserted village of Al Munisifeh, it sometimes felt as if people would be back any minute! I never could establish exactly how long some of the buildings have been empty – as far as I can tell, leaving this village for Ibra was a gradual process.
Said in a Doorway Our guide Said points out some of the detailed craftsmanship.
Decorated Door Oman is known for its beautiful and intricate doors and windows.
Interior Arches Even in their current state, the internal plastered walls and graceful arches suggest these rooms had a stately elegance.
Corridors Entries into walled corridors show how extensive some of these buildings were.
Doorways Everywhere there are beautifully carved wooden pieces that surely could be recovered!
Rusty Fittings
Arch and Lintel I love the delicately carved lintel over this heavy wooden door.
Rusty Door Pull It amazes me what has been left behind.
Rough Arches
Wooden Door How beautiful this must have once been!
Partial Buildings Some of the ruins look relatively recent – and there are even power lines running through parts of the site.
Lone Wall It amazes me that some of these walls continue to stand with little support.
Ornate Carved Doors
Said in the Street
Bricks and Mortar Clearly some work is going on around the village – but we saw no one.
Wood inside a Window The carved work inside these old buildings …
Another Window … is intricate and lovely.
Bricks and Mortar and Sun
Street Lamp After wandering the deserted streets of the ruined village, finding a street lamp was surprising.
Less than Ten Minutes Away … Back on the main roads, a modern mosque sits against the desert sky.
It was a surreal experience: wandering through the remnants of someone else’s hopes and dreams. I find it hard to imagine just walking away from what were once mansions, with their elegant arches and beautifully carved doors and windows.
Eventually, the desert will reclaim what still remains.
Puyupatamarca Known as La Ciudad entre la Niebla – The City Above the Clouds, Phuyupatamarca was possibly my favourite of the many ruins along the Inca Trail.
Hiking the Inca Trail from Piscacucho, or Kilometer 82, to the Inca citadel city of Machu Picchu is an unbeatable experience.
The trail follows just a small part – 42 kilometers (26 miles) – of the much larger UNESCO-listed complex of roads, the Qhapaq Ñan – meaning ‘royal road’ in Quechua – built by the Inca over several centuries as a communication, trade, and defence network throughout the Andes Mountains.
Walking it requires a reasonable level of fitness: the rocky paths are steep and the days are long. From a starting point of around 2500 metres (8202 ft) above sea level, the track ascends to beyond 4200 m (13,800 ft), and more than a few people experience altitude sickness. The route rises over several mountain passes and through several types of Andean vegetation zones; it gives the walker access to remote villages and ancient Inca ruins of extraordinary beauty and complexity.
It also gave me a huge sense of accomplishment.
But, one needs to keep it in perspective! There is an annual Inca Trail marathon, and the quickest participant can finish in under six hours what took us four days to walk. And, our local porters carried many times the weight that we did, and were only ever slowed by bureaucracy: the steeply ascending mountain tracks did not phase them. Peruvian porters are a hardy lot!
When we walked the trail, back in 2006, there was an election in the country. As voting is compulsory, many of the seasoned porters were back in their respective villages, leaving us in the care of 18-year-old first-timers, who still did a superb job. Almost every meal stop, they beat us to the site, and we would arrive, exhausted, to find the meal tent already set up and ready to go. In the evenings, we’d reach camp to find our tents-for-two ready and waiting for us. Our arrival signalled the young men to go scurrying for pans of hot water so we could wash in our tents before dinner. The porters were ‘colour-coded’, wearing bibs according to the group they belonged to. Ours was ‘the green team’, and we thought they were fabulous.
Our second day on the walk (see: The Inca Trail, Day 2) had been particularly rugged. After that, the first half of day three was a piece of cake – up and down through beautiful countryside and magnificent archaeological ruins. While we saw lots of birds – sparkling violators, blue and white swallows, Inca wrens, and rufous collared sparrows – we didn’t meet Wellington Bear (the South American bear, or osode anteojos), whose family originated in these woods.
Unfortunately, because heavy rains had washed out a portion of track past the Sun Gate, our campsite for the night had to be changed, and we spent the afternoon walking down a steep, little-used gully trail to the railway tracks, where we walked along uneven rail ties and gravel (keeping an ear out, so as to avoid oncoming trains!), further testing joints and muscles. This took us into the town of Aguas Calientes (or, as the locals call it: Machu Picchu Town), where four of us decided to indulge in beers and pisco sours while waiting for the last two, who hobbled into camp with one of the guides well after dark.
Because we had successfully completed all the high-altitude sections of the walk, we were actually treated to wine with our dinner. After another fabulous meal (our chef was a wonder!), we fell into our tents knowing we would have to be up at 4:30 to break camp for the final ascent, straight up, into Machu Picchu itself.
Daybreak in the Andes The early-morning sky over our campsite at Sayacmarca (3625 m / 11893 ft) turns pink. ‘Sayacmarca’ is sometimes translated as Town in a Steep Place. ‘Steep’ doesn’t begin to describe the trip to the toilet blocks!
Morning over the Vilcabamba Mountains The sun isn’t fully up and it’s cold, but it is turning into a beautiful day. Pumasillo, or ‘puma claw’, is the snow-capped peak on the left.
Sayacmarca As we drop down the trail, we can look back up at that almost inaccessible sacred Inca ruin.
Porter! After dropping to about 3500 meters, we start climbing steeply again.
Red Team We hear the call “Porters!” and the red team comes through.
Above the Clouds On the last rise, we enter the pass at Puyupatamarca (3640 m / 11942 ft) – “The City Above the Clouds”.
Triumphant We are feeling so relaxed after the tough day the day before …
The Hill … that we climbed an extra hill, just for fun!
Puyupatamarca (Phuyupatamarca) – Cloud-Level Town The views are pretty amazing as well.
Ritual Baths at Puyupatamarca
Paddington Bear Forest This is the ancestral home of the Andean bear, Tremarctos ornatus …
Walker and a Butterfly … but we only ever spotted smaller creatures.
Down to Puyupatamarca The down-hills can be as hard as the ups. Those bamboo poles we bought on Day 1 (see: The Inca Trail, Day 1) got a real workout!
Lines and Curves I loved these ruins: they are written up as an example of the Inca philosophy of balance between humans and nature because of their complex hydraulic structures; I just loved the patina of moss on the curves of the ancient stones.
Taking in the View The mountains and their cloud forests stretch out forever.
Wiñay Wayna (2700 m / 8858 ft) The extensive agricultural terraces at Wiñay Wayna (Huiñay Huayna) – Forever Young – are seriously impressive, …
The Urubamba Gorge … as are the views into the valley far below us
Salvia Dombeyi Lamiace The giant Bolivian sage thrives at this 3000 m altitude.
Steps and Water Catchment Thinking about the time and engineering …
Stairs … that went into constructing these complexes is just mind-boggling!
Wall Detail – Wiñay Wayna
The Valley Below Hard to believe, but by end of day, we’ll be back down there!
Up Wiñay Wayna In the other direction, the terraces climb up forever.
Lizard on the Stones
Wild Orchid Apparently Wiñay Wayna was named for an orchid that used to grow profusely in this area. I can’t actually tell you if this is one or not – there were many different varieties along the way.
View Down From Wiñay Wayna, it is ordinarily a five-kilometre walk to Machu Picchu. Unfortunately, with part of the track washed out, we had to head down to Aguas Calientes for the night instead. After lunch at the restaurant, we descend through steep, rough terrain …
The Urubamba River at Choquesuysuy … down to the swollen river below. From there, it was a a good two-hour walk along the railway tracks …
Aguas Calientes … into the little town 9 km (5.5 miles) down the mountain from Machu Picchu.
Our Chef This was our last meal with our trekking crew. Our wonderful chef came to take our applause; he really had prepared some fabulous meals!
Now that we were finally below the altitude sickness zone, we were treated to wine with our meal, which we all thoroughly enjoyed.
A hot shower might have been nice after all that exertion, but even though Aguas Calientes means Hot Waters, our campsite had none.
- Performing the Ganga Aarti from Dasaswamedh Ghat, Varanasi
- Buddha Head from Shwedagon Pagoda, Myanmar
- Harry Clarke Window from Dingle, Ireland
- Novice Monk Shwe Yan Pyay Monastery, Myanmar
Packets of 10 for $AU50.
Or - pick any photo from my Flickr or Wanders blog photos.
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Ah well. At least we were all in the same boat!
