Save the Turtles, Save the World

Flatback turtle Photo © Doug Perrine nwf.org Save the turtles, save the world.

I’m going to save the turtles this November. It’s really happening.

The Adventure

Last year, I talked here about the WPTP, that monitors the numbers of nesting marine turtles, and judges the success of their nests.

I wanted to get involved with the program, but it was a long way from Perth. Over 1,600km from Perth: and to put that into perspective, it’s about 4,000km from Perth to Sydney.

With a trip back to England last December, and a shortage of both funds and annual leave, the adventure has had to wait.

This year, things are different. Flights are booked. Accommodation is booked. Even the hire car is reserved.

Driving to Karratha would add an extra two days to the journey in each direction, and so it isn’t practical to make part of the adventure getting to the West Pilbara. But the important part is my new motto for this adventure: save the turtles, save the world.

Threatened Flatback Turtles

The threatened flatback is native to Australia, and nest only in Australia.

With cultural, spiritual and economic importance to Indigenous Australians from coastal regions, these ancient mariners have existed for more than 100 million years. Modern humans are considered to have evolved around 200,000 years ago, and what we call civilisation has existed for about 6,000 years. We are new kids in the neighbourhood to the flatback turtle

But changes to air and sea temperatures, rising sea levels, and other aspects that may come with climate change all threaten their survival.

Turtles can take up to 50 years to become a breeding adult. Ongoing monitoring and tracking is important if the flatback turtle is going to survive.

This adventure is in the early stages right now: all I know is how I am getting there and where I am resting my weary head. Which is important. Training on how to monitor the turtle tracks will be provided, then I just need to get some good photographs.

Bleed for your ‘burb: the flat-footed adventurer and street hockey

Roleystone Henges vs Perth Glory Holes at the Baysie Slab
Perth Glory Holez vs Roleystone Henges
Perth Glory Holez vs Roleystone Henges

It’s a Thursday night, and I’m playing hockey on the roof of a multi-story car park.

To understand how I got here, you have to know that I declared 2013 “the Year of the Dragon.”

You see, that was an impulsive thing.

One day I was taking part in a corporate team building dragon boat racing event — for a company I didn’t even work for, the next I was finding and joining a dragon boat club in London.

I was lucky. The team I joined trained at a regatta a short walking distance from my flat in Docklands, and I quickly warmed to the team sport culture of training together then drinking together.

An equally impulsive adventure goal was set: I would compete with the team in an international event before the end of the year. Within weeks, I was racing in a dragon boat, competing to the steady beat of a drum against other teams from around the UK.

But it wasn’t an international event. And, I didn’t ever meet that goal. But that was OK, because I did make friends and did enjoy training and competing. You can read various posts about it on here.

It was also my impulsive behaviour that had me sign up for the Inca trail, and my Arctic adventure, and abseiling down the side of Australia’s tallest building. At least with the year of the dragon I had tried it before I joined a team.

Street Hockey

Not so with Perth’s street roller hockey league.

Although I have some friends that played, a desire to join in myself wasn’t something that had crossed my mind. One day, an impulse came on me to write a feature article about the sport and the league. Even then, my interest was entirely journalistic.

I talked to friends, I talked to the league’s founder and commissioner, I was introduced to people and made new friends. I went to a game, took photos, and drank a beer with my friends and their team mates.

It was probably about then that I started thinking about playing. “But I can’t skate!” I’d tell people, and I’d be told in reply “there’s no ‘can’t skate’ — only people who have never skated, and people who can skate.”

There was two possible options. The way I saw it, I could buy skates, and spend a few months practicing, or I could find a team, get some skates, and then learn to play.

I was encouraged to do the latter. My impulsive, thrill-seeking, lizard brain approved of this course of action.

Yokine Drugs n’ Crime

Yokine Drugs n Crime

I was invited to join a team from Perth’s suburb of Yokine (Yokine Drugs n’ Crime, named after the Aussie hip hop song of the same name) and when I went to watch them play, unprompted I was lent a pair of skates and a stick, and spent time skating about, practicing skating with a hockey stick, and passing the puck back and forth with other players.

Perth’s SRHL is unique in Australia — there’s no other street roller hockey league like it in the country, and it’s already spawned a spin-off league in London. But one of the most important differences between this league and other sports is the emphasis on just having a go. If you fall over and miss a goal, nobody minds — and it’s frowned upon to be too competitive.

It’s incredibly welcoming, as I’ve found, and you can go from never having skated to playing for your team in the space of about a week.

That’s definitely a good thing if you’re impulsive.

The Amazing Aussie Adventure: Hyden Seek

Wave Rock, Hyden

Ever seen a wave that’s 15m high and over 100m long?

It was a long weekend in Western Australia for Anzac Day, so with a few friends I took a road trip to a town called Hyden — and to the iconic Wave Rock.

Wave Rock is about 350km east from Perth, out in WA’s wheatbelt. You can do the drive in about four hours, but if you want to see anything of Wave Rock and the surrounding area, it’s best to take an overnight trip, making some stops on the way.

Getting out of the city always excites me, there’s so many new places to see and the way the empty road stretches out in front of you seems like a red carpet, or an invitation. With WA, the desire to get in your car and just drive and drive and drive is a real possibility — and that’s just going north. Imagine if you pointed the car east and just kept driving.

Our first stop on the journey to Hyden was the town of York, and calls itself the oldest inland town in Western Australia. Whether that is true, or true depending on a certain definition, I’m unclear.

York

York, WA
Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:York_WA_town_hall.jpg

York is a beautiful historic town with some original architecture and heritage buildings dating back to the gold rush.

If you’re ever passing through, it’s a good place to stop or to visit for a few hours. You can have lunch at a local cafe and have a look around the town, it’s one of those places that could use your tourist dollars now there’s little to be made from traditional agriculture.

Corrigin

Statue to acknowledge the world record convoy of 1527 utes with dogs, Corrigin WA
source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Corrigin_dog.jpg

After a short break in York, and a visit to a local bakery, we pushed on: to another notable town, a placed called Corrigin.

As difficult as it may be to believe at first, Corrigin holds  the world record for ‘the most dogs in a ute’.

It may sound incredible, but this WA town took the title back in 2002 with over 1,500 dogs in utes.

I’m presuming that’s separate utes, not one ute piled high with 1,500 dogs. The town even has a statue to commemorate the historic event. It also has a large pet cemetery, but that didn’t seem like such an important thing to visit.

Hyden

Wave Rock, Hyden, WAIf Corrigin seems like a difficult place to beat, even if you don’t see any dogs in utes, then the only thing left to do is keep pushing on to Hyden.

While the town of Hyden might not have historical, heritage buildings, or world records for dogs and utes, it does have a big draw: Wave Rock.

Big is the word for Wave Rock: it’s nearly 15m high and over 100m long. And yes, it kind of looks like a crashing wave, appropriately enough for Western Australia.

Some people think I’m slightly crazy for wanting to drive for nearly 4 hours and stay overnight in a motel in a country town just to see a rock. I think those same people are slightly crazy to prefer to spend that time watching sport on television.

Hippo's Yawn, Hyden, WAWave Rock isn’t the only thing to see in Hyden, either! So don’t think it’s a wasted road trip, and that all there is to do is look at this one rock.

There is also the Hippo’s Yawn: a short walk through the bush from wave rock. Hippo’s Yawn is a rock that’s over 12m tall that kind of, maybe, looks a bit like a hippo’s gaping mouth.

Once inside the mouth of the “hippo” if you’re so inclined you can climb and wriggle through gaps in the rock to get on top of the rocks behind it, for a view of the surrounding area.

Another “must see” place in Hyden is Mulka’s Cave. From the outside, it doesn’t look like much — not after Wave Rock and Hippo’s Yawn. But, much like with people and a Kinder surprise, it’s what’s inside that counts. What some of the legends about a child-eating cannibal don’t tell you is that inside the cave are original hand prints and paintings on the rock. That kind of thing always excites me more than any footy game on television ever could.

You don’t need much more than 24 hours in Hyden — and technically you could do Wave Rock in a day, if you wanted an 8-hour round trip, but it’s worth taking your time, stopping on the way, and getting a room at the Wave Rock Motel.

The Adventure to Save the Turtle

Australia's threatened flatback marine turtle
Nullabor plain
source: http://motherlode.com.au

I got to thinking, after my last post. With the up-front cost of Costa Rica so insurmountable, it struck me that I needn’t travel so far for adventure.

Australia is this incredible, vast and diverse country. I have barely even touched it, let alone scratched the surface of this great southern land.

I am already thousands of miles from where I grew up. Why can’t I find an adventure here?

A while ago I tried pitching the Flat Footed Adventurer as a concept to places like Lonely Planet and in-flight magazines. I would have adventures and I would write about them. It’s a pretty straight-forward concept, and the driving idea behind this blog. To inspire some people towards adventures, and provide entertainment and escapism to those who prefer to just read about it.

Some adventures would be big. Some adventures smaller. There would be spear fishing expeditions, but also adventures of quiet introspection and self discovery in Buddhist monasteries. Adventures to find the coolest small towns, and adventures in the jungles of South America.

For in-flight magazines I was even willing to find adventures in locations they wanted to promote. All I wanted was the adventures, and the opportunity to write about them all.

The fact that I’m writing about it here, and not directing you to websites, books and magazines where I am published, tells you that they didn’t go for it.

But the point is adventures don’t always have to be pushing yourself to the limit of your ability, multi-activity, many thousands of dollars worth of expenses. Some adventures can just be about going somewhere new and doing something out of your comfort zone.

Australia's threatened flatback marine turtle
source: http://scienceillustrated.com.au/

With this in mind, I am focusing my current adventure dream on volunteering with the West Pilbara Turtle Program. The program aims to monitor and track the threatened Flatback marine turtles that are native only to Australia.

This might seem like an abrupt change of direction: where’s the hiking, rafting, cycling, kayaking? And what about South America? It is a change of direction, but I feel that it is doing important work, for something I care about, and it fulfills the wanderlust inside of me.

To get to the beach where the monitoring takes place is something approaching a 16-hour drive from Perth, although the closest airport is only a 2-hour flight. I would first have to attend a training day this year before being able to be a volunteer — so that means there might be two trips. Just getting there would be an adventure in itself.

This is still in the earliest stages of a plan, but even flying there would have costs  dramatically lower than Costa Rica and it would be doing good in the world, something that is important to me: leaving things slightly better than I found them.

Going Over the Edge

52 floors. 220m.See that speck, second from the right? That’s me, totally abseiling down the tallest building in Western Australia. For the record, it’s also the highest urban abseil in Australia.

I wrote last month about how I was taking this “plunge” to raise $1,000 for Kids’ Camps, a charity that gives recreation and respite camps for children with disabilities. As ever with these things, it has gone from an idea in an email that I enthusiastically accepted to being all too real. This Sunday past was my day for taking the plunge.

The Measure of Adventure

People kept asking me in the days leading up to the event if I was nervous. It was a very different sort of challenge to either the Inca Trail or the Arctic Adventure — one that a surprising number of people found scary just thinking about it. The truth is, I wasn’t really nervous about it. I don’t have a fear of heights, I’ve abseiled down structures before, and climb frequently (albeit indoors) — which also involves a small amount of abseiling. I also have a kind of mental block when it comes to this sort of thing: it’s too big to really conceive of it as real.

When I visited the roof of the Central Park Building with the newspaper reporter and photographer last month, there was admittedly a small bubble of nervousness, seeing the city so far below, and imagining hanging from a rope — but I got used to it quickly.

On Sunday we all had to arrive an hour before our descent time. After checking in at the registration desk, this left us with a lot of time. A lot of time just standing at the foot of the building. A lot of time to spend looking up at the ropes, and the 52 floors, and time to spend thinking about what we were going to do. Time to spend thinking about all 220 metres of the building above us.

Shortly before our descent time, my team was chaperoned into the building and whisked up to the top — the lift ascending 50-something floors in much less time than the several flights of stairs we had to climb from where the lift finishes and the top floor starts. The top floor of the Central Park Building was a big open place office — but completely empty of all the usual things like desks and computers. Instead there was a core team of people to help us get into our abseiling gear, and give us a crash course in how to get ourselves down the building. It was also our first real view of the city below us.

I mentioned before I don’t have fear of heights, so I enjoyed standing by the large windows and staring out — but I admit to feeling a small bubble of nervousness. I’d seen this view before, but this time I was going to be dangling above it by a rope.

Stepping over the edge

Once we were kitted up, and familiar with how to work the rope and belay, there was no more delaying. We were given our rope numbers, and headed out on to the roof. Without a doubt, starting the abseil itself was the hardest part. We were clipped into our ropes, given some brief instruction on what to do, then there was nothing else to do except go over the edge. I stepped up onto the edge of the building — and had to walk backwards over it, lowering myself with the rope, with nothing but a 220m drop behind me.

Once over, I stopped almost immediately while I was given further instruction. Dangling in the air with the city so far below, I was told how to signal if I wanted to stop, and then it was all up to me. The rope was heavy, and required a lot of effort to pull through — but with my body weight and gravity on my side, it was easy to get the hang of it, and before long I was making good progress, speeding my way down the side of the building.

One thing that was different about this abseil to my other experiences was that we were asked not to “push off” — the kind of bouncing technique you might have seen — because being an office building there was a real danger that we could crash through a window. Smashing through a window into an office like that could add excitement to the whole experience, but I wasn’t so sure that it would be appreciated. Instead, I used a combination of walking down the vertical side of the building and lowering myself, hanging.

Enjoy the Ride

The total abseil was 220m, but it was staggered in two stages, because of the nature of the building. The first part was 90m, and then another 130m. Because of this we had to do the whole stepping-backwards-off-the-edge-of-the-building thing twice. It also meant that we could use the first 90m as a kind of warm up.

It was a fine, sunny day and at times I had to consciously try and slow down to try and enjoy the journey and the experience. The mirrored windows of Central Park would give me views of the city behind and below me — though friends have since suggested I should have spent more time looking down, to make it more intense.

From start to finish, we were told the whole abseil took 30 minutes — but as I didn’t wear a watch, it’s hard to say how long of that was spent on the side of a building. For an adventure that made so many people uncomfortable, it felt easy — unlike other challenges in the past, it didn’t require a lot of training, and didn’t scare me like it might have done others.

Now I have to find a new, bigger challenge to take on. Like base jumping…

Or like this one.

The Amazing Aussie Adventure: Amazing Albany

Middleton Beach jetty, Albany

 

A little place called Albany is where the Amazing Aussie Adventure all started.

Albany has the distinguished honour of not just being where I lived for the first few months on arriving down under. Albany us also the first place in Australia that I visited: Perth airport doesn’t count.

Right on the south west coast, Albany is the edge of Australia where it once joined to Antarctica — and parts of it still look like it.

Albany feels more like a town than a city, to me — maybe because of the preserved old colonial architecture, and a lack of highrise office buildings. It also has a population roughly equivalent to my home town in the UK, although here — like all of Australia — it’s on a much bigger scale.

Something in the water in Albany

Because it’s right on the Southern ocean, the water in Albany can be colder than swimming in Perth, where you’re swimming in the warm currents of the Indian ocean.

There’s lots of good beaches in Albany. Duh, it’s Western Australia — of course it’s going to be awesome. But they aren’t just good for swimming, they’re also good for whales. Albany is known around Australia as a place for whale watching: the humpback whales migrate in from June, and when the humpbacks leave, the southern right whales come for a few months. Sometimes, I’m told, there are even blue whales.

At the right time of year, you can stand on the beach in the early evening sunshine and watch whales happily splashing their tails in the water a short way off the shore.

The edge of the earth

Natural bridge, Albany

In Albany, you can stand on a rock, stare out to sea, and the next landmass out there is the endlessness of the Antarctic continent.

The pounding southern ocean has formed the coast into vast cliffs, and in one place a huge, granite natural bridge — where the waves crash underneath.

You shouldn’t ever try and walk across the natural bridge (maybe it should be renamed the natural bridge of death), other than the risk of a gust of wind blowing you over the side, or slipping on a wet rock, there is also the danger from king waves knocking you off.

It’s much more interesting to look at than climb on, anyway.

Albany: scenic city

Amazing AlbanyOther than the rocky outcrops of Antarctica, and the marine visitors, and the beaches (of course, the beaches, always the beaches), Albany is just plain scenic.

The boardwalk at Middleton Beach on a fine day is a favourite walk for me.

Even if there are no whales to spot off the shore (though you’ll often see cars parked on the hill in the lookout spots, with people staring out, just in case) there’s lots to stop to take in.

If you’re feeling energetic you can also take a walk at the Albany windfarm, taking in as much or as little of the Bibbulmum track as you’re comfortable doing — where there’s hills and lookout points and wooden steps leading down to the water’s edge.

Albany is one of those places that’s a must-see in Western Australia.

As a footnote, a little piece of trivia I recently picked up is that Albany is apparently one of the best places in Australia for viewing the southern lights, the Aurora Australis. For someone that loves space like I do this is quite exciting, and promises many more trips on the future.

The Amazing Aussie Adventure: One year on in Perth

Aussie Adventure, 1 year on

I’ve been living in this great Southern land for more than a year now, and the tipping point for what feels like a dream has been reached.

With any big change the new ‘reality’ feels completely unreal — this is particularly true if you leave a dark, cold and rainy London and find yourself in sunny Perth.

However, there comes a point where the balance shifts and it’s now what was there before that doesn’t seem quite real any more.

This Aussie adventure of mine is about the lifestyle more than anything. Sure, living in a city in Australia isn’t so very different to living in a city in England — but then it’s the small things that make the difference.

Fish & chips and the sunset

Small things like eating fish and chips at Scarborough beach and watching the sun set over the Indian Ocean — or just getting out of work promptly on a scorching hot day to join the rest of the population swimming in the ocean to cool off.

My Home is Your Home by Ken UnsworthOn any particular day, you will find people swimming in the ocean and playing games on the beach until it gets dark.

Or the lifestyle is things like the annual Sculpture by the Sea exhibition started at Cottesloe beach, and though it’s spread east to Bondi beach and internationally to Denmark, it feels very WA — the setting sun adding an extra element to the art works.

Not just beach…

The lifestyle is not all about the beach life, either.

With friends, we meet up each month for a BBQ in a different spot in Perth — from Leighton beach, to the river foreshore, to Banks Reserve, and Kings Park: going for a picnic every month is something I couldn’t dream of doing in the UK. Unless you didn’t mind having your picnic inside the car or in the rain. And most people in the UK have done both of those things on more than one occasion.

the PinnaclesA short drive out of the city takes you to national parks where you can see koalas (they’re not native to WA, it should be noted, so don’t expect to just see them in all parks) and kangaroos.

You don’t even have to travel to see kangaroos — at dusk they will be hopping all over your nearest oval. I hope that the small thrill of seeing koalas and kangaroos doesn’t get ever old — except for the kangaroos that jump into the road when you’re driving.

Busselton Jetty, WAA longer drive north of Perth will take you to the Pinnacles, but even when you’re standing on a hill in the desert and admiring the rock formations, you can still see the sun glinting off waves not far away.

Driving south from Perth takes you through forest and down to Busselton and its famous jetty, and on to the vineyards of Margaret River — where people will go for a week or a weekend and decide to never leave.

Shorts and thongs

I still stand out as a stranger, here. Although I find myself unintentionally saying words like “thongs” when I mean “flip flops”, and greeting friends with “Hazzitgawn?”, other times I am very conscious of how posh and English I sound when I ask “Please may I have…” instead of the more Aussie “Can I grab…” and being caught off guard when someone asks me “How are you travelling?” when they mean “How are you?”scarborough beach sunset

Summer is waning in Perth and it reminds me of the best times of year in England, when it’s warm and fine. Although I know that winter is on its way and our house has no heating and very little insulation, it isn’t like there will be wintry things like ice, frost or snow in Perth.

Life here has tipped over so that now 30-something years in England now seem like the part that’s unreal.

The Amazing Aussie Adventure: It’s the Little Differences

Festival of Christmas in Perth

In the classic Tarantino movie Pulp Fiction, the characters played by John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson discuss what Europe is like compared to the USA.

Travolta’s character Vincent Vega puts it best when he says “You know what the funniest thing about Europe is? It’s the little differences.” That’s how the Amazing Aussie Adventure feels: the biggest things of all are the little differences.

For a country that speaks English as a first language and drives on the left-hand side of the road, you’d be surprised at the little differences in Australia.

The Language

Yes, they speak English here. And it’s not even like it’s “American” English, for all intents and purposes it’s the same English that I know. Things like realise and fantasise are still spelled with an “S”, and as a professional copywriter, I go around correct American English spellings on my company’s website. We’re an Australian company and our brand should reflect this. But then other things trip you up.

Like pants, for example.

As with the North American continent, pants here are not your underwear. If someone mentions wearing “dress pants” they do not mean the occasion is so formal it requires special underwear, but just smart trousers. Pants are what we, in the south of England at least, call trousers. I know the English makes no sense, since surely underpants go under your pants, but that’s just how it is. Neither is right and neither is wrong, but it can be confusing if you see a pub’s dress code stating that pants must be worn.

Which brings me to another confusion: thongs. If a pub has a dress code, and it mentions pants, it only follows that it would also mention no thongs allowed. As an Englishman, I nod my head to this and think it makes sense — pants yes, thongs no. Nobody wants to see your g-string. But thongs are what the rest of the world calls flip-flops. Or if you want to compromise, sandals. If a friend mentions they wear thongs in the shower, they’re talking about their footwear, not their choice of shower apparel.

Even when you logically know these things you can still get tripped up.

Aussie Slang

British kids raised on a TV diet of Neighbours and Home and Away are more familiar with Aussie slang than maybe other nations around the world. Apparently, Aussie TV soaps are also responsible for the proliferation of “up-speak”, but that’s a different conversation for another day. But when someone calls you a flaming drongo or a great galah, you are already on the ball. Except you’ll almost never hear someone talk like that outside of the country.

But there’s also a world of Aussie slang that you might not know, from having roos loose in the top paddock to being mad as a cut snake. Before moving to Australia, it’s a good idea to read some Aussie literature to get up to speed. You can buy books of Aussie slang, though trying to drop things like “I hope your chooks turn into emus and kick your dunny door down” into everyday conversation is as difficult as using the phrase “le singe est sur le branche” when in Paris (there’s not a lot of jungle in France).

You’re likely to also be confused by being asked how you are going, especially if you’re not travelling anywhere at the time. It’s just saying “How are you?” and probably means something similar to “How are you going on your journey through life/the day/the universe”. One of the things that delighted me most early in my days in Australia were the words “dobber” (what you might call a snitch or a grass, but in a much more schoolboyish way, than a criminal informant sort) and the phrase “made you look you dirty chook.” Other phrases you’re likely to hear in normal conversation include “winner winner chicken dinner.”

Australian Politics

You’ll be glad to know that Aussie politics is just as bipartisan as it is in the UK or the USA. That’s about all I understand of it. Oh, and the Liberal Party are not what anyone else in the world would ever describe as “Liberal”.

The one and only election day I’ve been to here was a big disappointment: I was promised a sausage sizzle and a cake stall, and there was neither. Both of those things probably also need explaining another time. Voting is also compulsory here: not voting means a fine, and possible jail time if you don’t pay.

Strangely, it doesn’t seem to drastically increase voter turnout.

Seasons

Obviously, in the Southern Hemisphere the seasons are reversed, and for a while that confuses you, until you go through a full cycle of seasons and learn to disconnect the month from the season. What you don’t get used to is the confusion between things like Easter and Christmas and the seasons. It feels plain weird to have Christmas in the height of summer, and to see inflatable Santa wearing shorts and holding a surfboard — but then everything else is still branded for the Northern hemisphere version of Christmas. Evergreen trees decorated with tinsel and fake snow, cards have images of snowmen and robins. Santa still comes on a sleigh, pulled by reindeer! There’s “Australian” versions of songs like Jingle Bells and the 12 Days of Christmas, and even that song by Rolf Harris that we won’t listen to any more — but they’re not really official songs, not like the traditional carols.

Easter, too, is “branded” for Spring — even though it officially falls in Autumn, so it’s not really all about rebirth and new life and all the traditional themes of abundance. Except that the seasons get even weirder: it’s in Autumn and Winter that it rains and things like your lawn that died in the summer comes back to life.

Sometimes it’s the little differences you didn’t even expect. When something you know from home looks different or tastes different to what you’re used to, or when you can’t find something in the supermarket and you realise you don’t even know what it would be called here.

The Amazing Aussie Adventure: Surfing Dude

The Amazing Aussie Adventure: Surfing Dude


surfing WA

Image: allianceabroad.com

One of the things I wanted to take up when I came to Australia was learn to surf.

It seemed like a simple enough task — I’d surfed once or twice in the past and had managed to get to my feet. I figured some dedicated lessons would refresh my memory and after a short course I’d be ready to buy my own surfboard and start hitting the surf at weekends.

My first surf lesson in Australia, a wave hit me the wrong way and I wrenched my shoulder. These things happen, I didn’t think so much of it at the time. Except it carried on hurting throughout the day, in a way a pulled muscle doesn’t.

I cancelled my following day’s lesson to avoid making it any worse, but by the Monday morning although it wasn’t any better I didn’t want to miss another day’s lesson (they’re non-refundable) so got through it with pain killers.

My ideas of buying my own surfboard were seeming more far-fetched: I wasn’t getting any better at surfing (that is, I still couldn’t stand on the board without falling off) but it was only my second lesson…

A few days later, with my shoulder still hurting, I saw a doctor. I described the pain, how it happened, and demonstrated the limited range of movement. The doctor told me it was a torn shoulder rotator cuff, and referred me for an ultrasound.

An ultrasound and an x-ray later confirmed a partial tear, but luckily not a bone chip that the ultrasound suggested.

It was more than six weeks before I was able to surf again, and complete the surf lesson course. By this time, summer had faded in Western Australia but sunny mornings spent in the surf, mostly falling off, were time well spent.

And no, I never did buy that surfboard, or really ever manage to learn to surf properly.

Although I did get a certificate.