Spiders and snipers...

As we headed south from Rainbow Beach we passed through the unfortunately named town of Gympie. The drive was a long one by UK standards, but probably perceived as pretty pathetic by Aussie ones. In the old days distances in Queensland used to be measured by the number of beers you would quaff at the wheel en route; ‘How far’s that mate?’ would provoke a response along the lines of ‘Oh about four cans’.

Driving up a knife-edge ridge road we climbed onto the Springbrook Plateau, our van making indignant straining noises and releasing foul burning smells like the Human Torch with chronic constipation. From the top we could see over the remnants of what is the biggest volcanic caldera in the southern hemisphere, rocky peaks surrounding the crater that once flooded this landscape with lava. The sharp spike of Mt Warning dominated the area, known as ‘Wollumbi’ or Cloud-gatherer in aboriginal it’s the first point on the Australian mainland to receive the first light of a new day.

We then stayed with friends in Newcastle whose garden had a lively colony of Funnelweb spiders. ‘They’re not that big, but they have serious attitude’ said our host Colin, demonstrating in gangly fashion the aggressive way Funnelwebs rear up and ‘gnash’ their gruesome fangs when threatened. Armed with venom that is peculiarly only toxic to higher primates, the experience of being bitten by a Funnelweb is usually described as ‘excruciatingly painful’ and compounded by their frankly horrifying tendency to hold on and bite repeatedly.

A few days later up in the Blue Mountains we were walking a rough over-grown bush track and one of our companions raised the potential danger of snakes. ‘Don’t worry’ reassured our friend Scott, ‘the spiders have eaten all the snakes’.

This is the nature of wild dangers in Australia. Unlike the wolves and bears of Russia and Mongolia or the big cats of Africa, there’s nothing to really stalk or hunt you down here. Instead you suffer accident and ambush angst from lethally poisonous arachnids and snakes, lunging attacks from sharp-toothed crocs and sharks, sting lashings from box jellyfish or if you’re really unlucky an invariably fatal paralysing nip from the tiny, innocuous looking blue-ringed octopus. The concentration of dangerous beasties led Billy Connolly to conclude that the only explanation was that ‘God hates Australians’.

We contrasted these natural world hazards with the security paranoia that enveloped Sydney around the APEC Summit. As world leaders from across the region gathered in town, security forces ‘locked down’ a substantial chunk of the city centre. The resulting traffic disruption appeared to interest Sydneysiders more than the political agenda under discussion. 'Enough about climate change already! Why can’t I drive through the CBD?!'

Around the iconic Opera House, burly armed guards patrolled on jet-skis and rifle-toting marksmen trained their sights on the streets from the rooftops. Such was the ostentatious security overkill that practically the entire nation applauded the antics of TV pranksters ‘The Chasers’. They drove a convoy of limousines, ostensibly flying the Canadian flag, straight through a series of supposedly secure checkpoints and into the ‘Red Zone’. The casual way they were waved through was understandably a source of not inconsiderable embarrassment to those in charge.

The thunderous, red-faced response of the authorities was to brand the stunt ‘irresponsible and dangerous’. ‘We had snipers in position and they weren’t there for show’ intoned the Chief of Police in solemn and menacing fashion. The prospect of an active ‘shoot to kill’ policy seemed to me somewhat more reckless than the Chasers hot satirical knife through security butter japes.

Even without the disruptions of APEC public transport in Sydney was decidedly testing, due to the time spent travelling. Despite being slow travel advocates our patience was strained. After a pleasant but prolonged six hour round trip to visit mates in Parramatta Fi and I were sat on the harbour ferry that took us from Circular Quay in the centre of town back to our base in Manly. We were halfway across the unusually calm, dark harbour when Fi suddenly lost it. ‘Argh! It takes hours to anywhere here!’ she grumbled, then leapt up and went stomping off down the boat. Moments later she sheepishly returned. ‘I didn’t realise we’d already left!’ she confessed, having marched off to bend someone’s ear about the late running of the vessel. I thought it poor timing to remind her that the ‘journey is the reward’.