Appalling mobile phone plans

I thought Canadian telephone providers must be the world’s worst—but then I discovered Telstra, Australia’s major provider.

We’ve had mobile (cellular) service with them since April. We wanted a mobile each so we could connect with one another, and also to be able to make calls within Australia. As visitors, a two-year plan made no sense, so we opted for the prepaid mobiles.

The phones were inexpensive (~A$50) and the recharge amounts seemed reasonable at $30. The phones worked well in urban areas, and even when we were away from major centres, the reception was okay.

— I removed the several hundred word rant about the terrible Telstra service and complex plan details from here… Suffice to say I was frustrated! —

Telstra has a number of plans for prepaid mobiles, but use catchy terms like “150 free minutes” and “bonus time” to obscure the fact that they are all very expensive and restrictive. You can’t just buy time: you must choose one of the plans.

Telstra’s “Talk & Text” plan expires after 30 days, so if you haven’t used it, you lose it. The “Talk Time” plan runs for 60 days, but it costs A$0.40 to connect, then A$0.35 for every 30 seconds. The “Telstra Long Life” plan runs for six months, but calls cost A$0.75 for the first 30 seconds, then A$0.60 per minute…

“So just to be clear, if I go with the Talk Time plan you are recommending, a $40 charge will let me talk for 150 minutes?”

“Yes sir! 150 minutes to Telstra numbers.”

“Uh, okay, and how do I know if it is a Telstra number? And what is the charge if I dial a number that turns out to be with a Telstra competitor?”

“Sorry sir, there is no way to tell—but you could ask them when you make the connection. Or, you could call our service centre and ask them to check the number.”

Right. And that explains why the four supposedly free 1800 numbers we’d dialled to the car rental agency ended up costing nearly $30.

Calls to landline phones within Australia cost substantially less than calls to mobiles, and if the person you are calling is so inconsiderate to have chosen an alternate provider, you pay a premium.

Sounds like a good business model—if you can get away with it! For some reason, Telstra seems to be doing exactly that…

Coming to Australia and want to be able to use a phone? My advice would be to get a Skype phone for use in urban areas, and when you are not near a wireless Internet provider, be sure to have lots of coins for pay phones.

Best intentions

“So where are you two now? Are you ever coming home?”

Uh oh… That’s the problem with starting a blog and not keeping at it! In Australia we had all the best intentions to catch up, and post frequently—but the days rolled on with other things to do…

As well, we discovered that some topics just don’t lend themselves to a blog—at least not the sort of blog we’d started.

We have been meeting new friends, and spending time with people socially in ways that were quite different than when we were “on the road”.

I have been taking lots of pictures, and we have both become quite involved in things we find interesting, so we have lots to tell—but in person rather than in the form of a blog.

We have told people that this year is one of taking stock, and trying to gain a perspective about how to retool for what we do next.

I suspect that blogging may still be part of do—but I now know that it won’t be quite what I’d expected when we left home.

Shameful behaviour

I’d been very impressed at the excellent interpretive signage panels near the Hopkins River mouth at Warrnambool. Several panels described the features of estuaries, and others had information about whales. We’d stopped to make use of the handy public toilets after looking for whales at nearby Logan’s Beach, and lingered to learn about estuaries until the late afternoon light became too dim.

Back in Warrnambool a week later, we made a point of returning. Sadly, some thoughtless person had obliterated the sign with grafitti.

I’m sure the city will replace the sign, but the community will now have to bear the cost of this idiot’s actions—and it probably means that some other community benefit will have to be cut.

I can only hope that this buffoon’s friends let him (or her) know that this was stupid. Even better, report him to the police so the whole community will know, and can publicly denounce such shameful behaviour.

Whales in the waters

Towns with decent harbours along the southern coast of Australia boomed during the heyday of the whaling era. Whales come north from Antarctic waters to calve and feed as nutrient-rich currents push up against the continental shelf.
Fortunately, whales are no longer killed, and the industry has vanished. Today, whales are a big draw for tourism, and the many cliffs along these shores provide excellent vantage points to observe these giants.
Logan’s Beach in nearby Warrnambool is a popular whale watching destination, and when we visited there recently, we were rewarded with the sight of a Southern Right whale basking in the swells just beyond a group of keen surfers.

Southern Right whale off Logan's beach, Warrnambool. Note the surfers in the foreground.

The lookout point has excellent interpretive signage, and explains that the “Right” whale was so named because it was the “right” one to kill: it was slow, had plenty of oil and floated when dead.
Not so “right” for the whales though: an estimated population of 60,000 when whaling began in earnest on these coasts in 1806 had declined to only 300 animals by the early 1920s—and of those, only 60 were female.
Southern Right whales were granted protection in 1935, and since then the population has risen slowly to an estimated 1,200 whales in Australian waters.
Further west along the coast, Portland was a major whaling centre until the industry collapsed in the late 1840s. The tourism centre near the harbour includes an informative museum with a whale skeleton in the lobby. They also have a whale watch email notification service, so we signed up.
Almost daily now we are getting reports of nearby sightings. When we saw that two whales were reported off a beach nearby, we rushed out. Not only were there two very close to the shore (perhaps 40m), but we spied two more a few hundred metres out.
Mature whales can be 18m long and weigh 80-100 tonnes, so seeing them in so close was a real thrill. In both cases, one animal had more prominent crusty “callosities” on the upper jaw, whereas the other was more evenly black. Another local enthusiast there thought we were probably seeing two sets of mother and calf.

Two Southern Right whales just offshore near the outflow of the Surrey River at Narrawong, VIC. These two and two others -- probably both sets of mother and calf -- were as close as 40m from the shore. (The image quality is low because this was taken hand-held with the camera's digital zoom.)

We’ll be eagerly watching the whale notifications, and hope to catch a sighting from one of the many cliffs in this area.
The Glenelg Shire Council’s web site provides a history of whale sightings reported in the Portland area.

Rorting and worms?

As we’d missed the televised leadership debate in the current Australian election campaign, I thought I would catch up on the issues by reading the newspapers the next day at the local Portland library.

I was puzzled by two undefined terms used in articles in both national newspapers.

By reading the article headed “Car subsidy scheme ‘open to rorting’” I deduced that “to rort” had something to do with cheating. The writer felt that someone might buy an old junk car just to qualify for the proposed rebate if they traded it in on a newer vehicle.

The second term—worms—was used in ways that offered no such contextual clues. The references seemed to imply one or more pundit’s opinion about debater performance, but “bloke worm” and “pink worm” made it confusing. Neither national newspaper had any obvious explanation of the term.

Luckily, the librarians were able to help—amidst laughter about how odd it must seem to someone unfamiliar with the terms.

“Did you watch the debate on TV?” one asked.

“No, I just caught a few clips later in the news.”

“Ah… well they probably didn’t have the worms active then.”

“Worms” turned out to be graphed responses from a selected audience group who reacted to the leaders performance by choosing a 1 to 5 rank on handheld devices (i.e. dislike a lot to like a lot, with neutral as 3). The consolidated feedback was displayed in real time on the screen as a constantly-moving graph under the leaders as they spoke—and the clips I’d seen no longer included it.

I guess I just don’t watch enough TV.

And “rorting”? The librarians thought my deduction was correct, but we did confirm it online: according to a Wikipedia definition, “rort” is a term used in Australia (and NZ) for “a financial impropriety, particularly relating to a government programme.”

Now if only I’d been reading the article online, perhaps the terms would have included a hyperlink definition…

You don’t want to be a hoon

Hoon charged. The headline caught my eye as we came through Customs after arriving in Perth, Australia, and I recall musing about it. “Hoon… that’s an odd name.”

But over the next weeks, it became clear that “hoon” was not a person’s name at all. According to a Wikipedia explanation, the term is “derogatory term used in Australia and New Zealand, to refer to a young person who engages in loutish, anti-social behaviour. In particular, it is used to refer to one who drives a car in a manner which is anti-social by the standards of contemporary society, that is, fast, noisily and/or dangerously.”

Another headline about hoons in the June 24 Midwest Times, Geraldton, WA.

Since April, I’ve seen and heard many references to hoons—all negative. What’s more, unlike many of the terms we are used to seeing for anti-social behaviour—vandals, hooligans—the term “hoon” seems to carry a much heavier weight of general social censure and ridicule here.

Evidence of hoon behaviour in Rockingham, WA

If someone is a hoon, the implication is that they are not just socially irresponsible, but also stupid, and unworthy of the attention of even their friends.

Anti-hoon laws in various jurisdictions have resulted in vehicle confiscations. Whether or not it has been a deterrent to the behaviour is not clear, but if you are an Australian with any aspirations of fitting into your community, you certainly do not want to be labelled a hoon.

Order and pay first

Fast food fans anywhere are used to paying for food before eating, but prepaying for a sit-down meal?

We were surprised the first time it happened, but have become used to it now as we’ve travelled within Australia. Pubs in hotels are a good place to have a full meal, and many offer a wide selection of well-prepared food. However, patrons are often expected to place their order and pay for it in full before being served.

Ditto with meals in specialty places like the Allansford Cheese World we visited recently. We ordered from the menu board—a ploughman’s lunch for two at A$27—and were given a table sign numbered 16 when we paid. We found a table, placed our sign on it, and read about cheese making in the area. A few minutes later, a heaping plate was brought to our table.

We lingered over our lunch, and when we realized we had only a couple of minutes to collect our things to attend the next scheduled cheese tasting, we were able to jump up and go.

No need to wait for a bill.

Great toilets everywhere

Australians are known for plain speaking, and don’t use wishy-washy terms for natural functions. No “washrooms” here—but plenty of public toilets!

Most towns have well-marked public toilets, and innovative water-free or composting toilets are common at parks and even roadside pull-offs. Sinks are usually included too—although taps may dispense just a trickle from rainwater collected in on-site tanks in dry area.

Having spent uncomfortable time searching desperately for a “washrooms” in Canadian towns and cities, we really appreciate this aspect of travel in Oz.

But in fairness to Canada, our winters provide an almost insurmountable barrier: no outdoor toilet would survive –20C temperatures. Too bad…

What’s in a name?

The address on Redman Road had been given to us directly by the person living there, so we expected our GPS to get us to the right spot. As Katharine entered the street name, it helpfully completed after 4 letters—but with “Redmond Road” instead. It would not allow her to enter the correct name, and the proposed road did not have the number we wanted.

Since we’d arranged to meet the resident at a specific time, we had to call for directions. It turned out that not only was the name wrong in the GPS, but it was also wrong on the printed municipal map!

The fact that the map was also wrong provided the clue to why the GPS data was wrong. The company Garmin uses for its navigation data, NAVTEQ, had obtained the incorrect municipal data for their database.

An error like this one may only be a minor inconvenience for a few people for now. But what if a courier can’t deliver a much-needed part for a milking machine, or an emergency vehicle is delayed in finding an address? Accurate navigation data is quickly becoming essential, and such errors need to be fixed.

Fortunately, “crowd sourcing” methods are available to enable users to provide direct feedback. My query to Garmin support got a speedy response with a link to the Garmin error reporting page as well as to the NAVTEQ map reporter site. Both were straightforward, but the NAVTEQ site used a map navigation interface to display the current information from their database.

How often do we get the opportunity to directly contribute to improving a useful tool? I’ve added these reporting sites to my browser bookmarks, and will certainly make a point to report any errors I happen to find.

DIY wind power

IMG_9033, originally uploaded by SpiritwoodPix.

This wind generator was one of three ready to be raised near Exmouth, WA. The pole is hinged at its base, and the "gin pole" on the right provides the means to get the leverage to raise it. Small wind generators like this are much more common than we see in Canada. Pity...

When does wind power just make good sense?

Frequent sightings of wind power projects has prompted lots of discussion as we’ve been exploring Australia. Particularly in areas where there are steady strong winds, it makes me wonder why an industry to provide home wind generators hasn’t taken off.

On the west coast, information panels at the impressive 48-generator Emu Downs project near Cervantes stated that this A$180 million project can provide power for the equivalent of 50,000 homes. Each wind generator was ~A$3.75 million—and likely more since the wind farm can share some expensive common control and distribution systems—but it also means that the wind farm costs work out to ~A$3,600 per home.

What homeowner wouldn’t agree to pay a one-time $3,600 to get energy from the wind forever?

Of course it isn’t quite that simple… Wind farms produce no power when the winds drop below a minimum speed—but consumers want to have power whenever they want it, so a grid connection is still needed.

Electric utilities balance supply and demand over the entire grid, but many (including our own Quebec Hydro) are not eager to let just anyone sell power into their grid. Even when they do agree, utilities can’t buy it at the same rate they sell power because their rate includes a mark-up above their generating costs to cover their significant capital investments.

But what happens as wind generator prices drop and their control systems improve? At some point, won’t it reach a point where—for at least some consumers—installing a wind generator for a home becomes economically too viable to ignore?

Dramatic sandstone

Kalbarri National Park covers 1830 square kilometres some 485 km north of Perth in Western Australia. The Murchison River flows east through canyons cut deeply into horizontal bands of multi-coloured sandstone before reaching the Indian Ocean.

The water-carved canyon walls are dramatic and unexpected, looking more like confectionary than stone. Rippled surfaces embedded within the sedimentary rock formation—called Tumblagooda sandstone—were apparently formed by waves moving over tidal flats some 400 million years ago.

The 8km Loop Walk trail took us along the edge of a cliff overlooking the Murchison River before descending to the riverbed. Although the river was barely flowing in June, remnants of branches and even stones several metres above our heads was a sobering reminder of how much water could flow through.

Despite occasional flooding, the gorge provides shelter and food to wildlife. We saw several wallabies along the trail, as well as a small flock of goats—and near the end of the loop, found the skull of a wild boar. A number of different water birds—including several black swans—were feeding on freshwater shrimp and minnows in several of the ponds.

At the end of the hike, we stopped for obligatory photos at a popular destination close to the parking area. "Nature's Window" frames the Murchison River, and there is even a convenient yellow-painted rock for people to stand on for the “best" shot. With no bus tour there as there had been at our start, how could we resist?

Kalbarri is a gem. We would love to return in the spring to see the wildflowers that were evident all along the roads.

The cost of an unfriendly greeting

We’d really been looking forward to Exmouth, and had decided to make the all-day drive from Karijini National Park so we could spend three days on the coast. We pulled in to the Visitor Information Center about 10 minutes before it closed.

We approached the counter where “Chris” looked up at us while closing the cash without any greeting. We explained that we were booked into a nearby caravan park for the night, but hoped to be able to camp in Cape Range Park for subsequent nights, to be closer to the snorkelling beaches.

“There are no campsites available.”

We were taken aback by her brusque tone. “None at all?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Well, you can get to the ranger station at dawn and wait in line till they open at nine. If you’re lucky, you may get a space if someone books out.”

“Are there no alternatives? Can’t we book anywhere?”

“No. If there is no space you have to come back into town.”

We were stunned—and disappointed. “Okay… and what about swimming with whale sharks?” This was highly recommended by fellow travellers we’d met.

“Tours are $360 to $395 per person and we can book you here. Do you want to sign up for one?”

It was a bit strange to be just quoted a price—which was certainly considerably more than we’d expected—without any other details, and we declined. This was apparently more than Chris could take and she made moves to close up her binders in front of us with a shake of her head. When we then asked about the more detailed map mentioned in the tourism booklet, she rolled her eyes again and pointed at the general map we had open in the booklet. “You already have it.”

She was evidently not interested in helping us, so with some embarrassment, we moved to the brochure racks—and promptly found the very good detailed map. Since Chris had made it clear that at least she was eager to leave, we left—but not before leaving our negative feedback in the visitor’s guestbook.

We were very put off by such rude and off-hand behaviour as our “welcome” to Exmouth. We did stay at the caravan park we’d booked that night, but wondered if we’d made a mistake in making the effort to get to this popular destination.

The next morning, as we drove to Cape Range Park, we passed two caravan parks that Chris neglected to mention—both of which are much closer to the snorkelling beaches than where we’d stayed in town. Moreover, the helpful park ranger told us that while we could not book ahead, there generally wasn’t much problem getting a space. “Jamie” at the park visitor center not only confirmed this, but was also very friendly and helpful about the snorkelling we wanted to do.

Although we did enjoy a snorkel at Turquoise Bay, a second negative experience in Exmouth that day made us decide to leave. When the post office checkout declined Katharine’s Visa card PIN (a fairly common occurrence in our experience), the curt post office employee asked where we were staying. When she learned we were in a caravan park, she refused to let Katharine sign for it instead (as is widely allowed at stores and gas stations). The implication was that our card was probably not able to cover the $30 charge.

That sealed it, and we decided to leave early the next morning.

So what did these two individuals cost the Shire of Exmouth? We drove further south to Coral Bay where we were welcomed warmly by the volunteer visitor information staff, who put us in touch with a local dive operator. We booked a snorkel trip ($330), filled our gas ($55), booked two nights at a caravan park ($92), enjoyed some cool beers on a friendly deck bar ($30), had a great meal ($65)… And that was just the first day.

So the message to people serving the public in a tourism area should be very clear: even if it is close to closing, be pleasant, because there is a real cost of being rude.

We won’t be recommending Exmouth as we continue our travels.

Road trains

You can see them coming for miles: even on paved roads, a cloud of red dust churned up by their wake lets you know that a road train is coming.

Large trucks with three or more trailers are common sights on many Australian roads. Carrying animals, ore, fuel and a wide range of products to (or from) remote areas, meeting them on the road for the first time is a knuckle-tightening experience.

This road train was at a rest area along an unpaved section of the Savannah Way in western Queensland. With three trailers and 72 tires to kick up dust and rocks, we were very glad to find it stopped!

Signs along various highways advise drivers to allow at least a kilometre to pass a road train—and in our underpowered camper vans, even that was barely enough. Fortunately, the drivers are understanding, and often signalled to let us know that the road ahead was clear. Passing can still be dangerous though: in one instance, a kangaroo carcass on the road ahead made me pull in much closer than I would have liked. As well, the roads often become narrower on bridges, so you don’t want to pass these monsters while crossing a bridge.

Australian roads sensibly have truck pull-offs, and frequent road signage encourage tired drivers to stop for a nap. We were always glad to see them in use because any collision with a road train would be serious.

The point was driven home very graphically on one lonely stretch of highway in the Kimberly region: the pavement had literally been melted where the many tires of a road train had locked up in an emergency stop. Despite the braking, the road train had hit the full-sized bullock whose broken carcass was being picked over by scavenger birds nearby. What was particularly sobering was that there was no evidence of broken headlights: the “bull bars” in front had done their job, and the road train had apparently been able to continue on its way.

Camels on the beach

Some sights are so cliché that you just have to see them.

Cable Beach is one of those beaches that seems almost too perfect: flat hard sand extending for miles, backed by large dunes and facing due west out into the warm Indian Ocean. By late afternoon most days, groups of people have driven vehicles onto the beach, and set up folding chairs to socialize as the sun sets.

But dramatic sunsets are not hard to find in this land of beaches: here most people are waiting to watch the nightly parade of camels taking riders along the shoreline.

Touristy? No doubt—but it sure is dramatic!

In the footsteps of dinosaurs

I had read that when the tide is very low, it is possible to find dinosaur footprints below the cliffs at Gantheaume Point near Broome.

A full moon made us check the tide tables. The lowest tide would be the next morning at around 8:30, so we decided to get up early to make our way along the exposed rocks below the cliffs.

The tide was still going out when we drove our “chubby camper” onto the beach at 6:15, so I brewed up some coffee and we watched a steady stream of vehicles drive out onto the hard sand to fish, put in boats and enjoy the cool morning.

We seemed to be the only ones interested in leaving the sand, and before long were exploring the eroded sandstone tidal pools on the way out to the point. By carefully lifting rocks in the pools, we found crabs, shellfish, and even two small octopus.

The cliffs at the point are made up of thick layers of coloured sandstone, and it was tempting to pack out some of the smooth stones. When we saw a number of people up on the cliff behind a barrier, we thought we must be close, so ventured out onto the flat rocks just exposed under the gentle swells.

I stepped out onto the outermost slab and looked down. There, beside my foot was the unmistakeable impression of a three-toed footprint! As we looked more closely, several other footprints became obvious. Within moments, several other people joined us, having clambered down the broken rocks after seeing our excitement.

Fossilized dinosaur footprints. One is at Eric's right toe; another in the upper left.

According to the information panels on top of the cliff, the tracks we’d seen were from a theropod dinosaur, a 2 metre high and perhaps 10 metre long creature designated Megalosauropus broomensis. During the Early Cretaceous period, about 115 million years ago, the dinosaur had walked through mud, leaving these prints behind. The tracks were subsequently covered by sand or softer mud, and gradually formed into rock. The softer layer was eroded, leaving the tracks under my feet.

The grey nomad trail

Canadians like to go south in the winter, but doing so means leaving Canada. Australians are luckier: to escape the cold, they go north, but can do so without leaving their own country—or even their own state in the case of residents of Western Australia.

The other notable difference between Canada and Oz is that Australians can drive around their country—certainly not an option for Canadians!

And drive they do: as we’ve been making our way around much of Australia’s coastal perimeter we’re meeting dozens of Australians who have taken to the road to explore.

The term “grey nomads” is often used to describe the many mostly-retired couples driving robust 4WD vehicles and towing trailers as they tour from caravan parks to camp sites—and often well-equipped roadside stops.

Our little “chubby camper” van is tiny and limited in where it can go compared to the Toyota Land Cruisers towing luxurious trailers—some equipped with wide screen TVs and satellite dishes.

Caravan parks are widespread in Australia, and most offer laundry facilities, well-maintained “ablution blocks” (toilets, hot showers), camp kitchens (many with refrigerators, BBQs, washing facilities). A powered site is typically A$20-45; an unpowered site A$5-10 less.

One of the best sources for things to do along the way are these grey nomads. We’ve exchanged all sorts of tips and “must see” ideas as we’ve travelled, and seldom stop without having a conversation with someone about where they have been or are going.

We can also tell that we stand out a bit from the stereotype of people who rent our kind of vehicle. At one site, a neighbour commented “Aren’t you two a bit old for a van like that?”

I guess maybe I should start shaving my head or using Grecian Formula…

Where are all the posts?

A recent email asked “Is there another site where you are posting your blog? I haven’t seen anything new since you were in Singapore…”

No, this is it. Since we’ve been in Australia (starting April 6), we’ve been doing a lot more visiting, so have had much less time in evenings for blogging.

More critically though has been the lack of decent Internet access. There have been locations, but most have either been very slow, expensive, or limited to just a browser.

We have addressed the issue by buying a USB wireless device that lets us get a decent connection wherever there is service from Telstra, Australia’s equivalent to Bell Canada. (And I won’t go into how similar the two monoliths really are here; suffice to say we are as frustrated with Telstra as we are with Bell…)

Our main focus for the past couple of weeks has been to catch up on photos, and we’ve uploaded several Australian sets to our Flickr site. Now we can add photo links in our draft blogs to start backfilling the gap since we arrived here in Oz.

Use the “Select posts by week” pulldown at the bottom of the right panel to see older posts.

As I write this on June 7, we are in Karumba, on the Gulf of Carpentaria. Apparently the port here was once part of the only air connection between Oz and England when flying boats refuelled here. Now it is a fishing mecca—and has a large prawn and barramundi fish industry. The other thing it has are crocodiles: the largest ever shot was from near here, and was 8.5m and ~3 tons!! We shall be careful while swimming...

It has been fun travelling with my sister Jan & her husband Ron in our “chubby campers”. They are equipped with sink, counter & cabinets at the back lift up door, and a good queen sized sleeping platform behind the front seats with stowing spaces under where we lay the foam cushions. The vans are basic Mitsubishi panel vans, and kind of gutless (4 cylinder) but have extra power so we can charge batteries and use our computers.

This post will stay at the top until we are caught up—hopefully before too much longer, but certainly by mid-July.

The cost of “cheap flights”

Tiger Airways flight prices certainly support the “fly cheaper” tag on their promotional banner: we had paid just A$140 to get both of us from Melbourne to Brisbane—a two-hour flight.

How can they manage to provide such low-cost flights?

• Online bookings. It may be possible to buy tickets at the counter, but we didn’t see anyone doing so—and there was no obvious counter.
• An “extra” charge is levied for everything. Water in a 325ml bottle was S$6; weight surcharges for bags >15kg are steep; food is expensive (and pretty basic) on board—and they have signs imploring people not to bring food aboard (although there was no apparent reason other than people would then not buy food on board).
• Use of minimalist airport services. The Singapore airport was not the new and fancy one; instead, it was a dingy hall with a McDonalds and minimal services. The Melbourne check in looked temporary, and the security check was about a slack as we’ve seen since the 1980s. Even the boarding was minimal: several passengers were very annoyed to have to walk down a long hall, and then out onto the tarmac to climb up stairs to board. (We rather appreciated the fresh air after the dingy terminal!) 
• Crowd people into the plane. Just as well the seats didn’t recline on the Melbourne-Brisbane flight, because there was just barely enough room for my knees.
• No on-board entertainment.
• Weird flying hours. Our flight left at 6am, and the online ticket was pretty clear about being there at 4am to check in. We managed that, and were near the front of the line—but by 5am, the counters were closed so the staff could process passengers after security. If you arrived after 5am, too bad…

For a two-hour flight, none of the above were too onerous. The longer flights—like our Singapore-Perth flight—had seats that did recline, but none of the amenities common to more major carriers.

Are better amenities worth the extra cost? Fares for Melbourne-Brisbane flights later that same day were ~A$300 each, so for us, the A$460 saved meant quite a few nice meals…

Ears in the oceans

On a rocky point at the SW tip of Australia, the Cape Leeuwin lighthouse has warned mariners of the dangerous shoals since the mid-1890s. The light still shines, but today it also serves a less apparent function. From the interpretive signage:

“At ~1000m deep in the ocean, there is a layer of water, called the SOFAR channel, where the speed of sound is at a minimum and sound waves can travel hundreds of kilometers with little loss of signal. A hydro acoustic station is able to record these signals when hydrophones are suspended in the channel.”

The station monitors a huge part of the world’s oceans (see inset), and is one of a series of stations set up to monitor nuclear explosions and signals from non-explosive sources—earthquakes, volcanic activity, underwater landscapes, shipping noise and even whale songs.

“The Cape Leeuwin Station comprises an array of three hydrophones, a seabed cable, and a shore facility located in the adjacent National Park. The three hydrophones are located ~114km SW of Cape Leeuwin.”

The waters at this point form the boundary between the Indian Ocean and the Pacific Ocean. The next land mass south is Antarctica.