I have paddled,
run and cycled in some hot days and survived but some days
you just wish you could be in the cool
A Day in the
Scorching Sun
For 35 days the Mississippi
River had been my life. I had paddled 4000kms in that time
and now the paddle was all over and for some reason I wanted
to go back to do it again, but this time at a slower pace
to get to know it more intimately. The temperatures in that
last week or two had been 35 to 48 degress and although I
knew it was hot I didn't realise until I reached New Orleans
that it had been that hot on the river.
After cycling several
thousand kilometres across and up and down the US averaging
200 plus kms a day I reached the start of the Mississippi
River. I then cycled 100 kms packed my cycle in a box and
sent it to New Orleans and hitch hiked back to my kayak to
start the river trip
After 34 days and paddling
nearly 4000kms I pass through a very hot New Orleans as I
head to the ocean.
After putting my bike
together in New Orleans I started a several thousand km cycling
journey west, in extremely hot conditions.
I now had several thousands
of kilometres to cycle so I straddled my bike and left the
city of New Orleans heading west towards the Grand Canyon,
Zion National Park, Las Vegas, Death Valley and to Yosemite
National Park where I would backpack 220kms through some of
the most scenic mountains in the world. On my previous cycling
sections across the US I had been doing 200 plus kms a day
and I had to keep up the same milage to rendezvous with my
wife who was flying in to Denver.
I passed a lot of industry when I paddled
the river from Baton Rouge to New Orleans and now I could
see the same smokestacks of the chemical plants in the distance,
but this time, from the highway. The road verges were littered
with glass, metal and pieces of rubbish. This was puncture
territory at its best and it was one of the untidiest roads
that I had cycled on. It was also hot, stinking hot, the roads
were busy and the trucks belched out fumes that polluted the
air that I needed to breathe. I felt suffocated every time
a truck passed by and I began to wilt under the hot draining
sun. The open road was both shadeless and grubby. Swamps or
bayous as the locals call them ran beside it. Stagnant water,
pitiful vegetation and a few shady trees formed the basis
of the countryside, but the temptation to take refuge under
the trees in that mosquito infested area was far from my mind.
My journey had taken a dive for the worst as my surroundings
simulated hell. Portrayed as a land of backwaters and bayous
full of alligators and leeches, it had now become a reality,
a part of my journey in the Deep South.
The heat radiating from the bitumen
drove the temperature higher as the minutes went by. I was
really feeling the strain, I felt dehydrated and dizzy. It
felt as if the oxygen was being sucked away by some giant
vacuum leaving just the pollutants for me to inhale. With
each gasping breath I tasted the toxic fumes. All I could
think about was reaching a cool place, some service station
or a shop which sold cold drinks or ice. Just somewhere, just
anywhere cool!
I eventually reached a service station,
which was like an oasis in the desert. Within moments I had
bought ice, placed it on my forehead and lay on the warm concrete
under the shade of the service station roof. I felt a multitude
of things, dizzy, hot and helpless with limbs that were like
jelly. As the ice blocks melted, water dripped down my face
and onto the concrete, which upon reaching it, immediately
dried. It was 48 degrees in the shade, the hottest heatwave
in Louisiana and Texas in history. People walked by me and
said nothing. I could have been dead and they wouldn’t
have noticed. I lay there for two hours before finally rising
from the dead and back on my feet. Thank goodness I felt better
and back in control of my body, which allowed me to get up
and cycle on at least a little further. As I cycled away I
almost felt like a new man again!
I stocked up with ice and headed north,
but the oppressive heat soon had me reeling. A car full of
young people screamed and threw a coke bottle at me as they
were driving by, but luckily it missed. I took refuge under
a highway bridge and drank water from my water bottle but
it was hot and horrid as the ice had melted. Another car full
of youths yelled as they sped by, but I was spared the coke
bottle this time. I had no choice but to move away from the
shady, but hot bridge. I couldn’t relax there as it was
just too hot. Even my water, though really too hot to drink
quickly disappeared, as I continually drank in an attempt
to keep hydrated. Within minutes of being back out in the
sun, the signs of heat exhaustion became very apparent. I
was feeling dizzy and on the verge of collapsing and I knew
I had to cool down, so sleeping on the side of the road tonight
wasn’t an option. I had to find a motel to cool down
my body’s core temperature. I struggled on to Sorrento
and stopped near some caravans and asked where I could camp,
hoping they would suggest there, but disappointingly they
didn’t.
I reached the small town of Gonzales
and after five months on the road I booked into my first motel.
I just had to. There were several motels lining the road into
town but I chose the very first one. Although I needed to
check out the prices, I had less energy than a drowned rat
and my mind and body wanted to go no further so I booked into
the first one. I was devastated with the $65.00 price, and
the unpleasant women on the desk, but I was desperate to take
refuge in an air conditioned room and so I took it. As I made
myself at home my body started to repair itself. By 9.00pm
when I had taken a lengthy cool bath and recovered from my
blurred vision and dizzy symptoms of the day, it was still
a very hot 40 degrees Celsius outside. I couldn’t believe
how happy I was just to lie on the bed in the air conditioning
and watch the Discovery Channel on TV. Being away from the
torment of the heat was complete and absolute bliss. I slept
well.
Several days of 40 plus days had me
suffering and only able to manage to cycle under half the
distance I usually cycled but when it is that warm you have
no choice.
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Purple Swamphen
If you take a paddle around
Ron Courtney Island or along the shores around Bassendean,
Guildford and other areas you will always find a Swamphen
scurrying in the reeds. These pictures are taken at Ron Courtney
Island this week. Last week we saw four youngsters but my
camera battery went flat so I only got one picture. Since
then they have grown a little and becoming much more shy to
the camera lens.
Ron Courtney Island:
The Purple Swamphen is a large rail.
(The rails, or Rallidae, are a large cosmopolitan family of
small- to medium-sized birds. The family exhibits considerable
diversity and also includes the crakes, coots, and gallinules)
It is mainly dusky black above, with a broad dark blue collar,
and dark blue to purple below. As the Purple Swamphen walks,
it flicks its tail up and down, revealing its white undertail.
The bill is red and robust, and the legs and feet orange-red.
For such a bulky bird, the Swamphen is an accomplished flier
and will readily take to the air to escape danger. In flight,
the long legs and elongated toes trail behind or hang underneath
the body. Purple Swamphens are proficient swimmers, but prefer
to wander on the edges of the water, among reeds and on floating
vegetation.
The Swamphen had no
trouble climbing this tree. This picture shows its white undertail.
Purple Swamphens are common throughout
eastern and northern Australia, with a separate subspecies
common in the extreme south-west of the continent. Birds have
transported themselves from Australia to New Guinea and New
Zealand and throughout the islands of the south-west Pacific.
It has been suggested that the New Zealand population of Purple
Swamphens (locally called the Pukeko) originated in Australia.
The Purple Swamphen is found around
freshwater swamps, streams and marshes and river shorelines.
A photo of one of the
young chicks but within a week it had grown quite a lot
A week later it is much
bigger
The youngster walks
away. It was a little more wary than the adult.
The diet of the Purple Swamphen includes
the soft shoots of reeds and rushes and small animals, such
as frogs and snails. However, it is a reputed egg stealer
and will also eat ducklings when it can catch them. The Purple
Swamphen uses its long toes to grasp food while eating.
Purple Swamphens are generally found
in small groups and studies have shown that these consist
of more males than females. More than one male will mate with
a single female. All family members, and occasionally the
young from a previous brood, share in incubation and care
of the young. The nest consists of a platform of trampled
reeds with the surrounding vegetation sometimes being used
to form a shelter. Often two broods will be raised in a year.
Each bird can lay 3–6
speckled eggs, pale yellowish stone to reddish buff, blotched
and spotted with reddish brown. A communal nest may contain
up to 12 eggs. The incubation period is 23–27 days, and
is performed by both sexes as well as any helpers that might
be present. The precocious chicks are feathered with downy
black feathers and able to leave the nest soon after hatching,
but will often remain in the nest for a few days. Young chicks
are fed by their parents (and group members) for between 10–14
days, after which they begin to feed themselves. (birdsinbackyards.net)
******************************************
Rebuilding
the Banks
Erosion is a big problem
on the Swan River and feeble attempts to prevent it doesn't
seemed to be working that well. Take Sandy Beach for instance.
Whoever is in charge seems to think that dumping limestone
rocks without securing them will be a good way to prevent
the wash of the boats from eroding the banks. That may be
a good idea if we didn't have people around but as you can
see from the picture below, fisherman, kids and whoever just
roll those rocks into the water creating more of a danger
to swimmers using the beach, than preventing erosion. Don't
you think they would pick boulders that couldn't be moved?
And why didn't they use the old boulders that have been rolled
down the beach rather than put new boulders in the place the
others used to be? Some of the boulders are so small they
can be moved easily by anyone. Sandy Beach is a great swimming
spot but kicking a big rock that is sitting under the water
doesn't do your toes any good.
It makes me wonder who
is really responsible for erosion control along the river
and how do they come up with their ideas. There have been
some very successful attempts but in other places it's just
been a waste of time and money.
Bassendean Sandy Beach.
The brown looking boulders were once put where the nearer
yellow boulders are.
Claughton Reserve, Bayswater. Now these
new rocks seem to be laid in place rather than being dumped.
They appear to be heavier and hopefully won't be able to be
moved.
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