A season almost started

The snow season in Myoko, Japan began in earnest today...almost.

I arrived in Myoko late Monday night and was met by a town of brown keenly anticipating the first big snow falls of the season. Following a few days of getting to know the town and the surrounding area, with everyone getting lost because everything looks different when there aren't towering snowbanks looming over the town, yesterday we headed into Nagano in search of tourist attractions. 

The imposing Zenko-ji Temple is popular with locals and tourists alike. Despite the souvenir and trinket shops encircling the temple's entrances, the grounds still have a presence about them. Japanese people of all ages dropped flaming incense sticks into an ornate stove and waved the smoke onto ailing parts of their body. The smoke is said to have healing powers. Inside the temple there are wooden statues that are worn smooth from people rubbing them for good luck...I think. At least that's why I rubbed the statue. 

Our group split after the Zenko-ji Temple. Those who had been around for a few years went ice skating while the rest went for an adventure to the famed snow monkeys. Of course everyone who spoke Japanese went ice skating, so we monkey hunters were sent out into the wild hills around Nagano armed with only our cameras and a Japanese GPS. The GPS led us to a train station still some distance from the monkeys. After restocking and re-strategising at a 7/11 and now armed with a cartoon map we battled on...to a 'road closed' sign. Battling now against the Japanese GPS, cartoon map and quickly fading light we spotted a sign adorned with a monkey. We forged ahead to the snow monkeys, until we arrived at the car park and were met by a 1.6km walk to the entrance. With fifteen minutes to spare before the gates closed we arrived at the monkeys. Success! And what a success. Monkeys chilling in hot springs. Monkeys fighting. Cute baby monkeys hanging off their mothers. It had it all! Including the beginnings of a snow storm.

This storm was only expected to deliver 4cm of snow. By the time we got home after an hour's drive there was at least 24cm on the side of the road. By the morning it had accumulated to about 74cm and was still building. Today was supposed to be the first day of lifts running so skis and boards were frantically thrown onto roof racks and bodies bundled into the vans. Half way out of the driveway we got the call - the lifts wouldn't be running because the operators weren't expecting so much snow and weren't ready. Bummer.

Tomorrow will be a different story.

Jonothan Ross' Japanorama

I've been learning Japanese over the last few weeks. This week we were introduced to Japanorama, Jonothan Ross' hilarious tribute to his favourite country.


Learn something you didn't know about ramen. 

What I learnt delivering newspapers

At the age of 25 I got my first paper round. What better way to spend the last few weeks before heading off to Japan than wandering around the local streets, providing the town with an essential service. I should have known when I called the distribution centre and they asked if it was for a kid or me that I wasn’t the right person for the job. Thirty-four degrees Celsius, eight and a half hours of walking, one litre of water and 570 papers later I understood why only children should have a paper round. There are a lot better ways to earn a hundred bucks.

However, with plenty of time to observe and think I did learn some invaluable lessons.

Wind is the paper deliverer’s worst enemy

Annoying, yes?

It’s a glorious, cloudless Sunday morning. You’ve just had a leisurely stroll down the street to collect the newspaper. Perhaps you’ve picked up a coffee and a croissant on the way. Now you’re settling down outside on the deck to enjoy your delicious treats and to catch up with what’s been happening in the world. Your newspaper gives a rustle; you sense a breeze. You place your coffee on the edge of the paper to make sure it doesn’t blow away. The next moment your coffee is spreading all over the News and the Sport has blown over the back fence. And chances are, if your croissant is light and delicate it’s blown off the table straight into the mouth of your patiently waiting dog.

This is what your paper delivery person has to deal with every time they try and put your local paper in your letterbox, albeit without the coffee, croissant and relaxing surrounds. They do battle with Mother Nature, taming cheeky papers trying to escape one page at a time. No number of expletives seems to fix the problem.

A letterbox makes a house

Now that's a letterbox.

A builder in Barwon Heads couldn’t get more work if they lived in [insert war-ravaged city that has been recently bombed, here]. There are new houses going up on every street, each appearing to be at the furthest edge of modern architecture. Oblique angles and water views abound. They are more works of art than houses. Then the proud owners go and put a hollow brick on a pole at the front of their property and call it a letterbox. Why, when you’ve just spent hundreds of thousands of dollars building your great Australian dream would you ruin the look of your house by putting a crappy little tin box that you picked up on the weekend from Bunnings in front of it all?

Actually, come to think of it I’ve never really looked at someone’s letterbox unless I’m putting something in it. So maybe only the postman will notice.

Newspaper ink is like a George Foreman Grill

Handling newspapers for eight and a half hours leads to black hands. The ink gets into your pores leaving your hands and fingers smooth and shiny. If I was picked up by the police and fingerprinted I would have been fingerprint-less like George Foreman, who allegedly burnt off his fingerprints in his eponymous grill.

Please don’t find it necessary to go and find these lessons out for yourself.

That's a big wave

Been getting back into the water recently. Plenty of cheeky little waves to get my confidence up. Then you see people doing this. I can't even comprehend how big this is.

The friendly people of Cape Liptrap

Bouncing from winter to winter over the last few years I haven't had a whole lot of time for camping. I sometimes got in a few days now and again, but nothing significant. This break in the seasons has seen a reversal of that trend - three camping trips in less than a month has seen adventures to Cumberland River, Aire River and, most recently Cape Liptrap. Setting up camp at Cape Liptrap in particular has reminded me of the wonderful people you can meet while you're camping.

Cape Liptrap

Friendly people

Being Melbourne Cup weekend, most people had the similar idea that camping would be a great thing to do for a few days. This meant that limited camping spots and the need to share fires. The fire we chose to cook on and warm by was also used by an older couple, Tony and Sue, who helped us cook damper, lent us there toasting fork so we could cook perfect marshmallows and generally entertained us with stories of "when we were your age."

Nearby Walkerville South

Even friendlier people

Camped on our other side were Todd and Porno (who actually preferred to be called by his name, Sean-o). We first met Todd after we sang/screamed along to Bon Jovi's 'Livin On A Prayer', which was wailing out the back of their lime green vintage station wagon while we were doing our dishes after dinner. He duly invited us over to listen to more Bon Jovi with him and Porno. (At that stage we didn't know he preferred the name Sean-o). Soon after we politely declined his generous offer Todd appeared at our fire, guitar in hand. We were serenaded with several renditions of 'In The Jungle', his version of 'ABC' written for his two young kids and a truly original song written during Todd's angsty teenage years about being lazy and his mum. That last song was clearly written during a rough patch in Todd and his mother's relationship. I'm omitting the lyrics for a reason.

I'm not sure if we would have stuck so fondly in Tony and Sue's and Todd and Sean-o's memories. I need to get old and wise or learn to play guitar. 

(I like what you've done with your h)Aire River

I know the pun in the title is awful, but I'm not apologising for it. Embrace it with joy!

The Cultural Learnings have fallen by the way side of late (read: last three months), but after a few camping adventures down the Great Ocean Road it's time to get back into it.

Aire River with Bre and her magnificent van, Joan. A fine place to camp indeed.

Bre and Joan.

"Watch out for the copperhead snake a bit further down the track," the Ranger told us.
Didn't tell us how much further down the track.

    

FYI: Bre has always wanted to be an explorer.
Bre can choose to deny that this statement is true. 

Windy.

Frisbee! 

Mad frisbee skills.

Yesterday's trickle, today's torrent.

Stuck in the middle of the raging torrent.

Meet Felix Bennett

It’s the rare skier whose favourite part of skiing is dealing with bumps. But for Felix Bennett, a nineteen-year-old bi-skier from Sydney, the bumps are where it’s at. You may have seen Felix, who has cerebral palsy, shredding Falls Creek last week. Cruising around in a royal blue Mountain Man bi-ski, he was hard to miss. And that’s the way he likes it. “I like all the attention I get,” he says cheekily. Everywhere he went, Felix left a trail of “Wow, look at that!” and “Aww, I want a go in one of those!” in his powder smoke.

It wasn’t just the general public giving Felix attention either; Falls Creek’s lifties kept him well looked after, helping him load and unload chairlifts all over the mountain. “The lift attendants are so friendly and helpful here,” Felix enthused on more than one lift ride. Having skied since he was three years old, Felix has experience with lifties the world over, from Grindelwald in Switzerland to Thredbo and Perisher. It’s Falls Creek’s lifties though, who he’s most impressed with. “They’re always ready for me and know what to do.”

Skiing isn’t Felix’s only sporting pursuit. When he’s not working at Packforce, a Cerebral Palsy Alliance business, Felix can be found at the swimming pool four times a week. In the S5 classification he holds state and Australian records in freestyle and backstroke. Despite Felix’s prowess in the pool, it’s skiing that tops his list of favourite sports. “I only get to go skiing once a year, for one week. I go swimming all the time. So skiing is better,” Felix asserts, to the dismay of his parents, Dimity and Nicholas. Felix also rides a specially adapted trike from Canada and plays indoor cricket. According to his dad, Felix has quite the impressive sweep shot. He’s tried his hand at golf and is keen to play more, but they’re still working out a way he can sit down and still swing a club.

After six days of skiing Felix is already looking forward to Season 2012. The low cloud sitting over the mountain and dumping snow last week kept him mainly around the Towers area. A brief visit to Ruined Castle on one of the sunny mornings only whetted Felix’s appetite for more adventure. If the sun shines next time, Felix is excited about exploring the rest of the mountain and checking out the terrain on the Summit. It seems Falls Creek has worked its magic on him. When given the option of where in the world he would like to ski next, Felix, without missing a beat, unequivocally responds with the most patriotic answer possible: “Australia.”

Photo: Dimity Bennett