Despite the decade between visits I was immediately made welcome and introduced to Hugh's wife Leanne and daughter Jubilee, and their house-mates John and Jenny and their daughter Grace. Hugh & Leanne live a stones throw from Little India, one of the largest Indian communities in North America and therefore our destination for dinner after my arrival. The curries were washed down by some fine Canadian ale which was a terrific beginning to what would be a trip marked by generosity and warm hospitality.
Another plane trip delivered me (this time with my bags) to Ottawa airport where I was greeted by Preston Cline, a co-presenter at the conference we were attending and keynote speaker at the National Outdoor Education Conference that we are hosting in Ballarat, Victoria in September, 2007.
Our drive to the conference was largely uneventful and largely direct and the first of many road trips Preston and I would share over the coming week.
Canadians are a welcoming bunch and the two days of the conference were enjoyable and engaging. My workshops were received well and I learnt from the other presenters about the place of outdoor education in Canada.
Four days into my trip and it was time to move again, this time a road trip into the USA. Preston steered us safely across the border and we arrived in his home town of Dover, New Hampshire. After a good night sleep I was in a more presentable state to meet Preston's wife Amy who complemented Preston as an excellent and friendly host.
The next few days were shaped by a schedule of meetings Preston had arranged across New Hampshire with leading members of the outdoor and adventure education profession in the US. This was a great opportunity for me made all the more valuable by the conversations Preston and I were able to have between meetings discussing issues as diverse as the risk education lexicon to the intent behind the New Hampshire number plate motto – "Live free or die".
On my last day with Preston he took me to Boston and through the hallowed and austere halls of the Harvard Business School where we met briefly with a friend of his and took in the HBS approach to risk management for fish ponds.
From Boston it was a three hour train trip to New York City. Leaving the train at Penn Station I asked those alighting whether the subway was safe at 9.00 o'clock at night?They were in furious agreement that it was fine and I began to follow carefully my cousin Ali's instructions.
The New York subway was fine, but filthy. It's the kind of place where all you are willing to do is stand – and preferably only briefly. With a few extra directions from kindly New Yorkers I found my way to Williamsburg Brooklyn and knocked on Ali and Lucas' door.
It might be expected that family would be hospitable, but considering the size of their apartment and pace of their lives Ali and Lucas would have been within their rights to point to the bed and let me look after myself. However, they were the finest of hosts during my 48 hours in the big apple. The city of acronyms: SoHo (South of Houston), TriBeCa (Triangle Below Canal Street), DUMBO (Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass).
On Saturday while Ali was working on a photo shoot with a legendary photographer in the Bronx, Lucas and I took to the streets on bicycles to explore the acronyms and icons. Our first stop (after less than a minute) was for my first great coffee in a week. I have since my move to Melbourne become somewhat discerning about the coffee I drink and North America does not offer great hope for those looking for finely brewed espresso style coffee. However, Oslo Coffee in Williamsburg met the standards of Lygon St, Carlton.
With caffeine in our system we toured the streets of Manhattan riding through Little Italy, Chinatown, a film shoot, Ground Zero, Wall Street and then taking in the view from Governors Island before riding back to Williamsburg across Brooklyn Bridge.
We finished the day with a meal in a French restaurant in SoHo with Julia an Australian friend of Ali and Lucas'.
Sunday was a day to take in the neighbourhood and a few final sites – after a coffee from Oslo. The Rockefeller Center gave me a view over Central Park before we walked through it and passed by the Dakota Building where John Lennon lived and died. With rain falling and the headlines in the New York Times heralding arrests linked to a foiled plan to blow up JFK airport we caught a cab home before I made my way to catch my flight to Spain - from JFK airport.
I found that if you're already nervous about flying a video camera mounted on the tail of the plane doesn't help your unease, especially as it was the only 'entertainment' provided as we sat on the tarmac for two hours waiting for clearance to take off. Fortunately I had Jesus beside me – literally, although with slightly less strict morals than the historical figure. My travelling companion thought if I wanted to learn Spanish quickly I should take a Spanish girlfriend. When I indicated my wedding ring he simply shrugged and smiled.
After a connecting flight from Madrid to San Sebastian I soon found myself welcomed by Eider's mum Beatrix as if I was a long standing friend of the family. Eider arrived after work and took me to their apartment in the Old Town. Beautiful narrow streets filled only with people who were either going into their homes or into bars, cafés or restaurants. It's only a short walk to the beach and as we made our way along the waterfront Andrew turned up after returning from his work in Bilbao – a town 100km from San Sebastian.
What followed were a wonderful four days of catching up and discovery. I visited the Guggenheim in Bilbao, saw the Pyrenees first hand, learnt how to order beer and coffee and tried in short time to acclimatise to the strange hours the Spanish keep.
Most notable in the Basque region of Spain was the lack of flags and national symbols. Particularly after my experience in the US where the stars and stripes seem to be the default décor San Sebastian (Donostia in Basque) was a stark contrast.
Sadly while I was in Spain the separatist terrorist organisation ETA renounced the ceasefire that had nominally been in place since 2006. As a result, on our return journey from Jaca in the foothills of the Pyrennes we were stopped and searched by police. Australian passports did the trick and we were waved on quickly.
The hospitality Andrew and Eider showed me was also shown by their family and friends. Wherever I was a drink was always offered or a meal provided.
With two weeks of travel behind me my last leg was to England. My flight to the UK was somewhat complicated by the departure of my plane while I was standing in a queue at San Sebastian airport. Service not being a major feature of Iberian airlines no calls were made and when I told the staff member serving me that my plane appeared to be taxiing down the runway without me she threw her hands up in despair. She began to offer reimbursement for the delay when I suggested she simply re-route me to a flight from Bilbao direct to London rather than the two legs I had scheduled through Madrid. This seemed to make sense and she managed to book this and get me a taxi across to Bilbao, the result being that I arrived an hour earlier in London.
From Heathrow I caught the train to sunny Devon to be greeted by a sombre Andy Blake who had earlier in the day been dismissed for a first ball duck – the first in his illustrious career. With soothing words of support and encouragement I suggested he get over it and we get some dinner. With his girlfriend Lisa away (since I left Andy has proposed so now it's fiancé) we got some Indian takeaway and did the catching up that old friends need to do – all the while I reminded Andy of his cricketing prowess in the lead up to our return 'Blake-Dingle Ashes' series.
On Sunday Lisa arrived home and we went out for lunch at the Buttersleigh Inn and then took in some Sunday cricket and a drink by the Ex River before Andy and I began the ashes. This was series number 7 (that we have bothered to record) and it was 3 series each. A local park was scoured to find a reasonable wicket; rules were established (automatc keeper, one hand one bounce, can't get out first ball etc) and the series began – badly for me. Within a short period Andy was up 2 games to nil and I was in danger of losing in 3 games – a first in living memory. (For the record our rivalry began in 1994 while we were working at Mt Binga (Andy) and Googa (Mark) Outdoor Education Centres.
Somehow despite my complete lack of practice I clawed my way back in to the series winning the next two games. In game four I top scored for the series with 58. This fine innings was interrupted by helicopters overhead and police entering the park. I indicated Andy was the one bowling but they seemed intent on finding someone else. Andy informed me weeks later that they were after a man wielding a machete. Peaceful country England.
With the fifth game of the series underway and my confidence and batting prowess improving Andy managed what will go down in the pantheon of Blake-Dingle cricket as a great tactical ploy – a bleeding nose. And since I'm such a bleeding heart I suggested we call it quits and finish the series off the following day.
On day three of my Devon sojourn we took in the sights of Exmoor National Park with Lisa and enjoyed Devonshire tea as the grey skies clouded in. Fortunately by the time we returned to Tiverton the sky was clear and cricket was possible. Andy was revived and my initial innings of ten was not extended by a single run. Still the game remained open. Andy scored a few dozen runs to record a lead of more than twenty. My final innings was steady and brought me to level pegging with Andy before I was out. Andy had only to score a single run to win the series which he did after only a few balls. The series was his and for the first time he took the lead 4-3 in the series.
Despite the loss I stayed another night with Andy and Lisa before travelling to London to see Rachel's sister Jess and fly home. I met Jess at St Paul's near her work and we went for dinner in Paddington before she went with me out to Heathrow. It was great to see Jess and hear that she was considering coming to live in Melbourne on her return.
The flight home was only eventful in the fact that I had a spare seat beside me for the whole 20+ hours flying time!
The defining feature of my travels was the overwhelming welcome and generosity of the people I met and stayed with. Thank you all for sharing your homes and your time with me. I am richer for knowing you all.
Arriving in Toronto after 20 hours of travel - made all the more bearable by sharing the first leg from Melbourne to LA with my cousin, Ali - I was greeted by Hugh Brewster who I had worked with in 1996 at the Ontario Pioneer Camp.
Four days into my trip and it was time to move again, this time a road trip into the USA. Preston steered us safely across the border and we arrived in his home town of Dover, New Hampshire. After a good night sleep I was in a more presentable state to meet Preston's wife Amy who complemented Preston as an excellent and friendly host.
The next few days were shaped by a schedule of meetings Preston had arranged across New Hampshire with leading members of the outdoor and adventure education profession in the US. This was a great opportunity for me made all the more valuable by the conversations Preston and I were able to have between meetings discussing issues as diverse as the risk education lexicon to the intent behind the New Hampshire number plate motto – "Live free or die".
On my last day with Preston he took me to Boston and through the hallowed and austere halls of the Harvard Business School where we met briefly with a friend of his and took in the HBS approach to risk management for fish ponds.
It might be expected that family would be hospitable, but considering the size of their apartment and pace of their lives Ali and Lucas would have been within their rights to point to the bed and let me look after myself. However, they were the finest of hosts during my 48 hours in the big apple. The city of acronyms: SoHo (South of Houston), TriBeCa (Triangle Below Canal Street), DUMBO (Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass).
With caffeine in our system we toured the streets of Manhattan riding through Little Italy, Chinatown, a film shoot, Ground Zero, Wall Street and then taking in the view from Governors Island before riding back to Williamsburg across Brooklyn Bridge.
We finished the day with a meal in a French restaurant in SoHo with Julia an Australian friend of Ali and Lucas'.
Most notable in the Basque region of Spain was the lack of flags and national symbols. Particularly after my experience in the US where the stars and stripes seem to be the default décor San Sebastian (Donostia in Basque) was a stark contrast.
With two weeks of travel behind me my last leg was to England. My flight to the UK was somewhat complicated by the departure of my plane while I was standing in a queue at San Sebastian airport. Service not being a major feature of Iberian airlines no calls were made and when I told the staff member serving me that my plane appeared to be taxiing down the runway without me she threw her hands up in despair. She began to offer reimbursement for the delay when I suggested she simply re-route me to a flight from Bilbao direct to London rather than the two legs I had scheduled through Madrid. This seemed to make sense and she managed to book this and get me a taxi across to Bilbao, the result being that I arrived an hour earlier in London.
Somehow despite my complete lack of practice I clawed my way back in to the series winning the next two games. In game four I top scored for the series with 58. This fine innings was interrupted by helicopters overhead and police entering the park. I indicated Andy was the one bowling but they seemed intent on finding someone else. Andy informed me weeks later that they were after a man wielding a machete. Peaceful country England.
The flight home was only eventful in the fact that I had a spare seat beside me for the whole 20+ hours flying time!
“We are what we do with silence.” Von Hugel’s words followed me as I sought refuge from the noise and activity of my daily life in a bushwalk at Wilson’s Promontory National Park recently.
