Phillip Island Classic Racing at Grand Prix Circuit

Although I'm not a motorcycle enthusiast, my husband, his brother and a group of friends here at Phillip Island have a passion for old British motorcycles. Doug's pride and joy are his 1950 Norton Dominator and his 1949 Ariel Square Four, and other bikes that he rebuilds in his shed.

Competitors from all around Australia, as well as teams with motorcycles (25 years of age and older) from the UK and N Z compete over the next three days with classes for all sizes and ages of motorcycles and sidecars. Today Doug went with his brother to watch fellow enthusiasts practice and prepare for the races on Saturday and Sunday.

The Grand Prix Circuit at Phillip Island has a spectacular setting on the southern side of the island, overlooking the ocean. A large lake lies in the middle of the circuit, surrounded by lush green grass grazed by several pairs of Cape Barren geese. -- some with young. These wild birds graze the grasses, seemingly undisturbed by the roar of motorcycle engines.

Weird and wonderful things I've found on the beach

Over the years I've found some weird and wonderful things along the seashore. When I was in my late teens I found a bottle on the beach at Queenscliff, with a message in it from a Scottish sailor who worked on an oil tanker. Of course I wrote back and so began a correspondence that lasted three years. We met twice, then the relationship drifted apart.

On King Island, where we lived in the 1980s, we discovered the bones of a whale washed up in a little clove on our coastline; rusted nails from shipwrecks; and a roll of pornographic film.

Usually we carry a plastic bag to collect any human rubbish we find on the beach, and then take it home to dispose of correctly. Plastic bags, fishing line, hooks, bottles and cans are unsightly and dangerous to marine life. Fortunately our piece of coastline is relatively free of rubbish, thanks to the locals who are vigilant in picking up anything that has been carelessly dropped.

Eleven years ago, on Phillip Island, I saw an unusual shoebox-sized container washed up on our beach. At first I thought it was rubbish, but on closer inspection realised it was a container for somebody's ashes. When I brushed off the sand I could see a name inscribed in the plastic, his date of birth, where and when he was cremated, and the name of the funeral parlour. When I shook the container I discovered it was full. But was it sand or somebody's ashes? Other neighbours joined me on the sand and we discussed the situation.

Subsequently the funeral parlour was phoned, and they asked us to look inside the receptacle. If the contents looked like kitty litter, they said, it was in fact the ashes. Apparently the container was tossed overboard in Fremantle shortly after the cremation. From Western Australia the container travelled all the way to Phillip Island, an amazing journey in itself. After unsuccessful attempts to get in touch with the family, the funeral parlour asked us to sprinkle the ashes in the sea, which we did. So ended the journey of Frank's ashes. The funeral parlour said a lot of people have the big ceremony on the beach and no one has a Swiss army knife to take the seal off the top, so they throw the whole box away.

Bare-foot on the beach, finding treasure

It's got to be around 30°C before I'm tempted to remove my runners and walk barefoot along the seashore. Soft strands of seaweed squeeze between my toes as well as course golden sand. It's a delectable sensation, especially when combined with the salty smell of seaweed!

On different parts of the shore, the texture of the sand varies enormously -- from fine silky gold to coarse shell grit which is sought after for caged birds, to keep their beaks in good shape. I'm always on the lookout for anything different or rare like a cowrie or nautilus. That's what's so exciting about a walk along our beach on Phillip Island; you will always find something different or beautiful, something to make your day.

Today my treasure was a creamy white sea egg (urchin) about the size of a golf ball with bands of purple creating an exquisite pattern. After carrying it a little way, I placed it on top of a "mountain" of sea grass for someone else to find. With our two shepherds running through the waves and Doug and I the only people on the beach, I felt a rush of well-being and gratitude about where I am at this point in time.

Meeting a bull ant on the beach

If you've ever had a bull ant climb up an inside leg of your jeans, I'm sure you'll agree it can be an agonising experience. Naturally the removal of your jeans is top priority, regardless of amused spectators. And then soothing the pain becomes a matter of urgency as well.

Almost everyone is familiar with bull ants, also called bulldog ants because once they grab you you with their nippers it's as if their powerful jaws lock like the jaws of a bulldog. Probably the world's largest ant (up to 20 mm long), and one of the most primitive living ants on Earth, bull ants live almost entirely within Australia, with about 60 species making up the group.


Today I met a lone bull ant on the beach. The ant wasn't at all sure it wanted to meet me, but meet me it did, where gentle waves washed up on to the sand. My guess is it was foraging for food amongst the flotsam washed ashore, or perhaps it was after some salt? It became very agitated when I stepped up close, waving its nippers about and telling me in no uncertain terms about the poison it would inject if I came any closer. With memories going back to when I was a five-year-old and was bitten by a bull ant on the foot, and then in my 30s having a bull ant run up the inside of my jeans and bite me repeatedly, I backed off. I gave the bull ant the space it needed and continued on my way, wondering why it had made its way down to the sea.

The following is a unique outback remedy used by Australian bushman. This first aid treatment for a gash uses a bull ant to bite into the flesh, with its nippers on either side of the wound. The bushman then cuts off the ant's head, leaving the nippers to hold together the wound until healed!

Sand castles, mermaids and hot sand of my youth

At this time of the year, elaborate sand castles built on the sandy shore suggest the delights of play and the knowledge of things European and historic. Castles, complete with turrets, arches, moats and bridges lie moulded from wet golden sand, with shells as windows, and kitchen gardens made from seaweeds.

Major, my young German shepherd expresses great interest in these creations, sniffing about and looking. I think he's picking up the scent of the kids who created the sand castles. Perhaps he's wondering about the purpose of the exercise? Some of my happiest childhood memories are of playing on the beach at Sorrento on the Mornington Peninsula where we build elaborate sand castles, boats, dressed our naked bodies with long strands of slippery bull kelp and then pretended to be mermaids. After swimming in the cold water of Bass Strait, it was always a delectable feeling to run from the water up the beach to the hot dry sand and then roll over and over, coating our bodies like lamingtons.

Those were carefree days where, as a family, we were the happiest. Dad went fishing, Mum reduced housework to the bare minimum and we kids ran free and barefooted in the sand-dunes and coastal scrub. We made our own fun.

Figs, the fruit of the gods

Soft, ripe figs (straight from the tree) are one of my husband Doug's favourite delicacies. Home-made fig jam, and dried and glazed figs are also favourites. In our backyard -- here on Phillip Island -- we have five young fig trees, propagated by Doug from cuttings collected locally from our Croatian friend's trees.



At present, the trees are laden with fruit and protected from being eaten by possums by our two German shepherds that patrol the backyard throughout the night. Figs are not true fruits, but rather a collection of flowers that have turned in on themselves. And the little crunchy bits aren't seeds, they're actually unfertilised ovaries.

Doug doesn't have any competition from me because I don't like the taste of figs; however, I do love the rough feel of the large three-lobed leaves and the sensual look of ripe figs splitting open as a result of too much rain.

Mud, Mould and Mildew On Many Minds

A huge clean-up is underway throughout much of Australia as floodwaters recede in some areas and continue to rise in others. It's not generally known that mould releases trillions of microscopic spores and chemical vapours that float in the air and are spread by wind or water.

When these spores and chemical vapours are inhaled, swallowed or land on the skin they can cause health problems such as asthma, eczema, sinusitis, conjunctivitis or hayfever in susceptible people. Mucous membranes are particularly vulnerable. Therefore, it's important to reduce -- as much as possible -- the growth of mould and mildew in and around your home.

In my new blog -- which suggests ways of reducing the use of chemicals in your home -- I've begun a practical section dealing with chemical-free methods of cleaning away mould and mildew. For about 10 days in a row I'll suggest practical things you can do in relation to cleaning up after flood waters, especially where humidity is high as well. Please feel free to go to: http://chemicalfreehome.wordpress.com and share with your friends.