Following from my initial post I have decided that I should give a brief background into my life.

My past has been good to me most of the time but it has also gave me lots of grief. I have worked in forestry up until my retirement, from timber harvesting to clearing the forest for regeneration I have worked in state and private forests around Tasmania.

I am 67 years old, in good health, like to travel and I like a challenge, hence the trips from Tasmania to mainland Australia every year from about May to November, mainly to get away from Tasmania’s cold winters.

 

My means of transport is a 2005 Nissan Patrol Ute towing a luxury 23ft caravan, self contained with solar and generator, I seldom have the need to use caravan parks.

The setup I have for the road.

I live and work on a small rural property just outside New Norfolk, in the very scenic Derwent Valley when I am back in Tasmania.

I am a jack of all trades master of none (maybe a few that I am the master of) can turn my hand to most things involving, building, renovating, operating all types of machinery, trucks etc. Have trained horses, did a lot of riding a few years back. Good bush mechanic, welder, have ago at anything really.

Even turn my hand to a bit of poetry when inspired, like this verse I penned whilst in the Snowy mountains taking in the history of how and when the Snowy Mountain scheme was constructed. The men and women who built this scheme came from all over the world and endured great hardship from the weather.

SNOWY’S STILL WATERS

By

Kevin L Fairbrother

The rolling hills surround the lake

It’s still-waters glisten in the simmering heat

With nary a wave breaking on the shore

As echo’s of life now and past resound

The gentle sloping hills reach to the shore

Abound with kangaroo, ducks and emu’s

They have no fear of man encroaching

As they noisily graze on the abundant grasses

This man- made lake built of sweat and tears

A monument to those past, who toiled so hard

Now a haven for those who visit the Snowy

And they flock in their hundreds to experience the wilderness

The steep hillsides decked with timber and shrubs

The golden wattles a site to behold

The purple weeds interspersed amongst the grasses

Give rise to a sense of peace and tranquility

Spare a thought for those who built this wonder

For they endured hardship the likes we could not imagine

The Snowy gave no ground, she made them pay

Whilst taming the rivers and streams that have slipped beneath the waves

They tamed the raging rivers of snow melt

That used to make their long journey to the sea

Now the rivers are silent for they are deep beneath the lake

But there is life as the lake spills over creating power and irrigation

Of the original inhabitants whose land this was so long past

Now just part of the dreamtime of stories thus told

As the ghost of those who lived and worked to build

Sleep forever beneath the Snowy’s cold dark waters

Camp on Blowering Lake in the Snowy                                                  Grazing Kangaroo

Also penned at the same time was a verse about a local fisherman who told me there is no such thing as luck. He calls it skill.

 

A FISHERMANS TALE

By

Kevin L Fairbrother

Blowering Lake in the Snowy’s is the place to be

To catch a Yellowbelly or Silver Perch

Or if you are lucky a Murray Cod or a trout

They all live beneath the cold waters of the lake

 

I flog the water with spinning rod and lure

Changing frequently my choice of lure

I try to entice a fish to strike with no luck

At this rate I would be lucky to catch a cold

 

Along comes a regular fisherman, introduced himself as Wayne

Having any luck old mate he asks, not me mate I have no luck

No bloody fish here I says to Wayne, He says it’s not luck you need

It’s a worm on a hook and pure skill that will get you a fish

 

He sets up his rod and baits the hooks with wriggly worms from his garden

He casts the line out into the lake and proceeds to make a cup of tea

No sooner had he poured the tea when he had a strike, he set the hook

I’ve got a nice fish on you grab the net be ready to catch him

 

You lucky old bugger I says to Wayne, no luck involved just pure skill

A 2kg Yellowbelly as fat as mud he will go down well for tea

Not to be outdone I changed my lure and cast it into the lake

On my third cast I spotted the dark shape of a fish following

 

A strike I yelled as I set the hook and the fish well he took off

I played him out till he started to tire, fetch the net old mate

This fish is a whopper; I played him out till he went belly up

Wayne rushed over and gently placed the net under the fish

 

Wow what a fish Wayne said the bugger is twice as big as mine

You were bloody lucky I reckon I brought you good luck say’s Wayne

No bloody luck involved I say’s to Wayne old mate

It’s just my good looks and pure skill

I have had many trips to the mainland as we in Tasmania call the big Island some 440klm to the north and I have experienced things and life that inspire me to put pen to paper, it is away of taking away the boredom when you are camped and all alone.

Many times at camp spots I meet with other travellers who all have tales and experience’s on the road that are worth repeating.

The most talked about subject by travellers by far is Free Camping, the lack of it, restrictions imposed on travellers by Councils and National Parks and the fees that these bodies wish to impose.

The biggest user’s of free parks are retirees on part or full pensions, They strive to make their pension go as far as possible and by far their biggest and most expensive cost, is fuel, so the less kilometers they do in a day, helps them to conserve money for food, health, maintenance of vehicles, registrations and so on.

Most try and travel from free camp to free camp, occasionally they need to top up with water and empty their toilets, they do this at a caravan park or use council facilities.

Now there is a cost to be born by the rate payers of the town for the services provided but this is by far exceeded if pensioners can free park for a couple of days, they will spend their money in the towns, this helps the small towns survive and the rate payers of the town are paid back many times over.

Hence the ramble below that I penned one night after spending some time with fellow travellers around a camp fire.

FREE NO-MORE

by

Kevin L Fairbrother

I’m a-bit of a nomad and travel with my ute and van

Have to watch my pennies, because the pension is all I have

So I free camp where I can but boy oh boy it’s getting harder

As more and more  have signage, that say’s NO Camping

 

Don’t get me wrong, Mate! I spend a quid to live

On the essentials, like expensive fuel and groceries

I support all towns that are RV friendly  and

by-pass the ones that have $ signs over there eyes

 

Caravan parks to expensive and have stuff we don’t need

National Parks to restrictive and charge exorbitant fees

So all the towns and parks that want our support

Need to re-think their strategy, of No Camping

 

Having paid taxes all our lives we are still hit with excise and GST

Whilst those within Government, continue to milk us dry

They all have their perks and lurks on the public purse

All we have is the old age pension that will only stretch so far

 

Us pensioners are not stingy, we will pay a small fee to upkeep facilities 

But we wont be bloody fleeced by the powers that be

Who sit in their ivory towers and haven’t a clue about the real world

I hope that one day common sense will prevail and we can continue to enjoy our freedom