Recently I learned that my partner has aphantasia. The 14-hour economy class flight produced the unexpected information that she could not voluntarily visualise mental images. She couldn’t see something in her mind’s eye – and that this condition was called aphantasia.

I, on the other hand (or seat 17B in this specific circumstance), have quite the opposite condition. I can visualise things to such a vivid and spectacular degree in my mind’s eye that when I lay eyes on the actual thing, the reality can be somewhat disappointing.

When my Year 11 Ancient History teacher, Mr Rawlings, told the class all those years ago of his recent trip to Greece, he recounted sitting on some ancient marble in the ruins of the agora at the foot of the Acropolis – the agora being the meeting place of the ancient Athenian assembly. He then added casually, “It could have been almost the exact spot where the messenger Pheidippides delivered his famous line, ‘Nenikekamen!’ or ‘Rejoice! We conquer!’ before collapsing and dying.”

I was enraptured. My teenage brain exploded. I could see it so clearly in my mind’s eye that I almost dropped dead myself.

He was referring, of course, to the legend of Pheidippides, who ran the 26 miles (42 km) in 490 BCE from the battlefield of Marathon to Athens to deliver the improbable news that the vastly outnumbered Athenian army had comprehensively defeated the invading Persians.

The image never left me.

Fast-forward now 2,515 years to the relatively small space around seats 17A and 17B in an aircraft hurtling towards Greece, where your correspondent (me) is not only discovering what aphantasia is, but fairly soon will be wishing that he had it as well. Because we were flying to Athens so that I could run where Pheidippides ran.

I was competing in the Athens Marathon.

The start was incredibly exciting. I had picked up my bib (number 3852) two days previously from a stadium used for the 2004 Athens Olympics. It also contained a Marathon Expo – a huge, neon-lit, multi-storey frenzy of stalls from sporting companies with names referencing Greek gods. Consequently, and for a mere couple of hundred dollars, I had purchased (and was wearing) special marathon socks, compression sleeves for calves, knees and thighs, and a stupid marathon hat. I also had an impressive array of energy gels, electrolyte replacement gels, and a variety of salves, ointments and unguents to promote rapid muscle recovery post-event.

It was exhilarating to be one of about 25,000 participants from around the world lifting our hands in unison towards the overhead drone cameras and yelling (as instructed, in Greek and English) for world peace. There was a muffled explosion (that was the starting gun — I was a fair way back), and we shuffled forward. Five minutes later, I crossed the actual starting line and we were off.

Of the race itself I shall say little. For a running race, it was an emotional roller coaster. I can attest that the so-called ‘runner’s high’ is real. The endorphin release from intense exercise is euphoric.

It does not, however, last for 42 km.

The first 10 km were great. I loped along happily, sucking down energy gels and bright blue electrolyte replacement drinks.

It was my lower extremities that started shutting down first. Appropriately, perhaps, the Achilles area – then my calves got in on the act, and the whole nightmare moved north.

Large flags were posted every five kilometres indicating the distance completed. I noticed that the appearance of these flags slowed whilst the muscle pain increased.

Thirty Ks in and my resolve to keep running – no walking under any circumstances – had found a loophole. I overcame an urgent desire to throw myself in the bushes and weep only by having murderous thoughts about Mr Rawlings. I forced myself to hobble on.

I realise now it was a hallucination, but I swear I saw God at 35 kms. And he looked like Cliff Young.

Whoever or whatever it was, it worked. The crowds lining the final 7 km got louder. I knew they weren’t there for me, but I didn’t care. My wife was – and that was all that mattered.

Pheidippides is my hero.

Turns out he probably didn’t run the marathon after all. He did something far more impressive – he ran from Athens to Sparta before the battle to request Sparta’s help (they declined – religious festival, don’t you know), then back to Athens to deliver the bad news (about 490 km).

On that return trip, so the legend goes, Pheidippides encountered the god Pan on Mount Parthenium, who told him to ask the Athenians why they paid him no attention – he’d helped them before and possibly could be of assistance in the upcoming conflict. The Athenians believed Pheidippides and did indeed build a shrine to Pan under the Acropolis – after all, they did spectacularly repel the invaders.

I’ve always associated Pan with wind instruments and debauchery, but never in my wildest mental imaginings did he look anything like Cliff Young.

… I’m thinking now that Cliff, who ran 875 km from Sydney to Melbourne, was a modern-day Pheidippides, and since I have acquired selective aphantasia, I shall salute them both– from the sidelines.

Note

For those too young to remember, Cliff Young was a 61-year-old vegetarian potato farmer who surprised the world (especially the ultramarathon community) by winning the inaugural Sydney to Melbourne race, essentially by not sleeping. The quintessential human tortoise in a field of hares.

Feature image Angus writing this story on Hydro near Leonard Cohen’s former domicile Photo Sue Franklin (participant in the recent Bangalow Herald photography for news workshop!)

Never heard of Nhulunbuy? It’s a town in the far north of the Northern Territory, on the Gove Peninsula, with a bauxite mine and a deep-water port. But it’s not the final destination. That’s Gulkula, maybe a slow 40-minute drive down a long, dusty red-dirt road. Gulkula is an important cultural site, a significant Gumatj ceremonial place, sited on an escarpment overlooking the Arafura Sea. The Gumatj clan, part of the Yolŋu people, have lived there for over 60,000 years.

So who has taken this epic trip, and why? There’s a story behind it all… As a member of Country as Teacher, a not-for-profit cultural curriculum led by Bundjalung educators, traditional custodian and Byron Shire Councillor Delta Kay was invited to attend the 25th annual Garma Festival, held early last month. (This is just one of many strings to Delta’s bow.) The festival is where Yolŋu and Balunda (non- Indigenous) “come together as one” in a “two-way learning process”.

Hosted by the Yothu Yindi Foundation, Garma is a four-day “celebration of Yolŋu life and culture, and showcases traditional miny’tji (art), manikay (song), bunggul (dance) and story-telling”. Down here on the far east coast of NSW, we briefly catch glimpses about this festival, but they’re usually framed in a political context, with some hopeful motherhood statements offered by important politicians.

One of the Country as Teacher programs is called Weaving Waterways. It combines weaving revitalisation with the restoration of our waterways. “The program connects our Bundjalung women to Country and cultural traditions and enables us to continue the care of our waterways,” Delta explains, on returning home.

Last year, the program hosted Yolŋu Elder Djapirri Mununggirritj (a Board Director of the Yothu Yindi Foundation) at their women’s waterway camp. A cultural exchange enabled Delta to attend Garma and share Bundjalung knowledge on the opening day Education Fair. “This day is devoted to the love of learning, with students from local schools and the Garma Youth Forum,” Delta said. “I felt truly inspired to share alongside Djapirri. Her leadership, her open heart and wisdom, is something you need to see and feel.

“We gathered on the bunggul (dance) ground for a unique curriculum, where classrooms are under bough shelters. I shared our bough shelter with Djapirri. We spoke about the importance of our cultural upbringing and education.” They also shared the ‘classroom’ with Djakapurra Munyarryun, a respected Yolŋu song man, dancer and cultural consultant. To close their session, they played a traditional Bundjalung game, which “got everyone smiling and enjoying each other’s company”. Delta incorporates games like this in her popular Byron Shire tours.

Though it was her first time at the Garma Festival, it wasn’t the first time Delta had camped at Gulkula. (By the way, there are no hotels there — everyone sleeps in tents.) She initially met Djapirri at an education program called Culture College in June 2022, when she worked as a mentor with the schools program held between April and October during the dry season. “As mentors, we support visiting students learning from Yolŋu leaders and teachers about their Yolŋu curriculum in law, language, kinship, stories, art and history.”

Around 2,500 people attend Garma. It is also “an important meeting point for the clans and families of the region,” its website reads. “The Festival’s overriding cultural mission is to provide a contemporary environment for the expression and presentation of traditional Yolŋu knowledge systems and customs, and to share these practices in an authentic Yolŋu setting.”

To Delta, “the talks, workshops and dancing, was all mind-blowing! I think I left my heart in Yolŋu Country. The joy at catching up with many special people who I hold in my heart with respect and love; catching up with family and friends from Naarm (Melbourne) was great.”

The festival has a strong emphasis on Yolŋu youth, who stand firm, Delta added. “Education is the heart of Garma. You feel the quiet respect and appreciation from people who attend the sessions. Each day I had incredible conversations with people who sat next to me at dinner or stood in line for lunch, and I witnessed how Garma transforms people and brings them back each year. It was inspiring, exhilarating and deeply moving – and tears ran down my face listening to Gail Mabo’s story.”

Christobel Munson

Most of us feel powerless and overwhelmed in the face of larger world forces, seemingly beyond our control. Few, like local conservationist and retired veterinarian Claire Oelrichs OAM, run full-steam towards them, determined that they can, and must, make a difference. Whether it be tirelessly regenerating the 100 acres of Coopers Shoot land she and her late husband, Ian, purchased in the early 1990s, or working to protect the threatened elephants, tigers, and rhinoceros of southern Sumatra, Claire is giving it her all. She might try to downplay her decades of frontline activism as being almost accidental, but her actions speak for themselves as to the level of dedication involved.

Though she continues to be busy tackling her last hill at Coopers Shoot, and is still heavily engaged in international wildlife conservation efforts, since the Russian invasion of Ukraine in early 2022, her heart has been in Eastern Europe. She says there is no personal connection to either Ukraine or Russia that would explain the degree to which she has been affected by the developments there, but learning of her father’s life-risking secret ops in the British Navy as a Russian-speaking spy during the 1950s, one might beg to differ.

Her horror at the unfolding catastrophe in Ukraine prompted a deep dive into the subject, impressed beyond measure with the resolve of the people she witnessed in the documentary, Winter on Fire which examines the 2013 Maidan Uprising that instigated the current Russo-Ukrainian war. Further digging left her aghast, finding little-discussed but verified reports of widespread war crimes, including the abduction of thousands of Ukrainian children, and the common practice of genital mutilation of prisoners of war. “It’s an abomination, and offends every sense of right and wrong!” she says.

Determined to find a means in which to contribute in a substantial way, she became aware of a campaign called ‘Car for Ukraine’ (C4U), which sees a network of volunteers across the UK and Europe procure vehicles for the Ukrainian army. Second-hand dual-cab 4×4 utes, most often sourced from the UK due to their cheaper cost and more plentiful supply, are purchased by members of the public and transported by expat Ukrainians to C4U’s armoury in Lviv, where they are transformed into battle-ready trucks and sent off to the frontline.

She started following C4U’s progress—who have so far delivered 411 trucks worth around five million dollars—and inspired by their tenacious grassroots approach, began fundraising with friends to purchase their first vehicle. Over the next couple of years, a further two vehicles were secured, liaising with London based Ukrainian Sergiy, who facilitates the process.

With her 70th birthday approaching in March of this year, Claire and her Berlin-based sons, Dexter and Cooper, were discussing ideas for a birthday holiday get-together when the possibility of personally transporting a fourth vehicle to Ukraine was floated. The 1900km journey, usually squeezed into a punishing weekend of 18-hour days for the volunteers who transport the vehicles, was plotted as a less arduous five-day family road trip, and by the time they converged in London this past Easter weekend, one ute had become one each, taking the total of supplied vehicles to six. Fitted out with BYO CB radios, the Oelrichs family convoy hit the road to Lviv.

The post-Brexit hard UK/EU border crossing from Dover to Calais got them off to a challenging start. Travelling as ‘cargo,’ their utes were dwarfed by a wall-to-wall flotilla of giant freight trucks, with the three Oelrichs packed into carriages alongside an army of drivers from every corner of Europe. The unusual convoy, emblazoned with Ukrainian stickers and bound for a conflict zone, garnered extra thorough searches and x-rays, sending pulses racing amongst the Australians who realised they had put themselves in a potentially vulnerable position. “We’ve all seen The Mule!” Claire laughs. Passing with flying colours and their faith in C4U confirmed, they were free to begin their adventure across Europe.

Whizzing through previously visited countries, their pace slowed in Poland to enjoy some sightseeing and hiking, before the mood changed considerably crossing through Ukraine’s wartime border and travelling the two hours into Lviv on its dilapidated major highway.

After delivering the vehicles and seeing the armoury, the Oelrichs visited the Field of Mars—named for the God of War—an “unbelievably moving” cemetery struggling to cope with the ever-increasing number of graves of the region’s fallen, brightly decorated in flags and flowers, each bearing their photo, as well as the emotionally charged treasures left by loved ones—often their children. Before heading back to Poland, they shared dinner at a restaurant with C4U members, including the founder, Roman, during which an app on the Oelrichs’ phones started blaring in unison, warning of imminent attack. The locals were unfazed, reassuring them, despite the scars peppering the city from a series of missile strikes in 2022 and 2023, “they never bomb Lviv”. Its standing as one of Ukraine’s safest cities, furthest away from the frontlines, is all relative for a country living under the most difficult of circumstances.

Energised by the experience and determined to do even more to help, Claire is drawing on her expertise as a seasoned conservation tour guide to lead a larger convoy of between five to 10 vehicles this September/October for keen travellers looking for an adventure with purpose. Groups can come together to purchase a vehicle, costing on average around £4000/$8000, with between two to four drivers of each vehicle self-funding a week-long road trip through the UK, France, Belgium, Germany and Poland, with a day trip into and out of Lviv. While the convoy would start and finish, as well as cross the UK/France and Poland/Ukraine borders together, vehicles can branch off as desired, or remain in tow with Claire, staying at strategically located Airbnbs and visiting sightseeing destinations along the way.

Claire would love to hear from anyone interested in joining: claireoelrichs@gmail.com For more information about C4U, visit car4ukraine.com

As Melbourne geared up to enter its sixth COVID lockdown in 2021, Caroline Ralph and her husband had had quite enough, and decided to bring forward their long-planned relocation to Bangalow. Like many new arrivals, the pair knew no one in town, but had always dreamed of living in Bangalow.

“We had planned to retire here but realised we could make the move a lot sooner.” Being self-employed (Caroline is an acupuncturist), and ready to take on new experiences, they soon settled into village life.

Caroline connected with community and reignited her love of dancing, taking a class at Newrybar, where she learned the b.class style of dance out of Canada. During one session, she overheard another dancer talking about Samba dancing and joining a Brazilian dance school performance at the world-famous Carnival. Caroline chimed in ‘Oh, that sounds fantastic, but I’ve never done any Samba dancing’.

And that, she thought, was the end of that. But after the class, the teacher approached her and the conversation continued. While Caroline had never danced Samba before, the teacher assured her it was straightforward, demonstrating a few supple hip moves and hand actions. Caroline was entranced and delighted at the idea of learning the dance style but also returning to Rio, where she had honeymooned 20 years earlier. And so, the seed was planted.

“So, are you going to talk to your husband about coming to Brazil to dance?” And I knew then that she was quite serious. “I went home and said to my husband, ‘I’ve just been offered this opportunity to go and dance in Rio in the Carnival. I can’t say no to this.’” Hubby fully supported this once in a lifetime experience.

Samba in Carnival is serious business. You can’t just frock up, rock up and shake your thang. Caroline has committed to months of rehearsals on the Gold Coast each week as well as an intensive fitness training regime in preparation for the big day. “I’m doing a bit of strength training, a bit of cardio and then just dancing.

“The great thing about this experience is that you just have to have a passion for dance and be able to hold a beat. It’s freestyle dancing, and I only started learning Samba last year.The dance training, and Carnival experience is part of an offering from Sambalicious. Dancers from Australia join an existing Brazilian dance school and perform for one hour in a glamorous and energetic parade that runs from 10pm until the early hours. “We’re joining a Brazilian dance school of about 3000 dancers.”

“Our teacher Mishel runs Sambaliscious, a tour that incorporates the dance experience and travel. She has been Samba dancing since she was 20. And she’s been going to Brazil to dance in the carnival for the last ten years. So, she’s got this tour down pat and has organised this really amazing experience for people who want to tick this incredible experience off their bucket list.”

But it’s not just dancing. “Each dance school creates a musical anthem too, so I’m not only dancing but learning a song. In Portuguese. It’s quite catchy. But we have to do lots of practice because I don’t even really understand what I’m singing about,” she laughs.

However, it’s not all glitz and glitter. Dancers have to remain graceful and upright on a moving float for their hour-long slot, wearing high heels, feathers and a permanent smile. Caroline will be concentrating on keeping her balance and maintaining high energy throughout the performance. “It’s the biggest day of the year for people in Rio. It’s going to be very hot. The carnival is at nighttime, but it still can be 40 degrees in the day with 100% humidity,” she says. Dance troupes are scheduled to perform for one hour each running from 10pm until the early hours. “We should be on before midnight, but everything runs on ‘Brazilian time’ so who knows?”

Fiji, a Pacific paradise synonymous with palm trees, beaches, and warm hospitality, is home to numerous six-star resorts. One such resort is Namotu Island, “about the size of the Bangalow sportsfields” and just 10 minutes from one of the world’s most alluring surf spots, Cloudbreak. The resort attracts many affluent tourists who come for the watersports and wellbeing, and the property is staffed predominantly by Fijians who travel to work from Nabila, a nearby village of around 250 people.

Nabila has been without a doctor for over five years. Medical treatment for the entire village has been carried out competently and with great care by nurse Merewai, now in her 60s.

While Namotu Island resort has its own medical service the staff can access, staff often work 24 days straight and then have four days off, “which is all the time they have to pursue their own health concerns,” says Michelle. Nabila is two hours from Nadi, the capital of Fiji. Transport is difficult, and work, family commitments, and cost mean many people don’t make the journey to seek the medical attention they need.

The idea for an Outreach Clinic emerged after Leena, who works as a volunteer yoga instructor and medic at Namotu, spent a night in Nabila and became aware of the significant needs there. This led to a discussion with Namotu Island resort managers who agreed to fund an Outreach Health Clinic for the village. This was the first step in making the clinic at reality. But awareness of culturally appropriate care was a high priority for the team.

“You can’t just rock on in (though many Westerners think they have license to),” says Michelle. “You must get permissions and partake in a Sebu Sebu ceremony, which is where the village chief and elders welcome you, and you make your offering to the village. In our case, it was our services and a massive amount of medical equipment, consumables and medication.”

Building a connection with the community was a crucial step to the success of the Outreach Clinic. “Taking things slowly was so important for relationship building, and developing safe, culturally appropriate care provision to the community,” says Michelle. “When the villagers realised that we were treating their families who were working at the resort, they said ‘Oh, could you please see us as well because we just haven’t had a chance?’” adds Meera.

“Nurse Merewai set us up a couple of rooms in the town hall. We had a bit of a triage system out the front to assess the urgency of the patients. We also had a little surgicaloperating area and a small pharmacy with lot of our own medication and equipment,” she says.

Some patients had minor injuries or conditions, but others were in the form of chronic but manageable illnesses that can be easily treated with appropriate prescription medicines, all of which were previously out of reach for the average villager. Priceline Pharmacy in Byron donated some medications for the trip, and Byron Bay Eyecare (owned by Bangalow’s Steve and Belle Brady) donated pre-loved prescription glasses for the villagers. “We saw a lot of people with undiagnosed diabetes or high blood pressure,” says Irfaan. “There were also many people who were overweight or obese, from consuming highly processed, high sugar Western foods rather than eating the typical Fijian diet like fish and cassava root.”

“We gave about 20 people a Boostrix injection for tetanus because people were getting reef cuts on their feet that were badly infected, and they just kept walking around working,” says Meera. “Nurse Merewai was basically holding the village together in terms of health care,” says Meera. “She has a little clinic with a bed in it, no fan, no electricity, and often no running water.”

“The health burden, particularly with diabetes and resultant advanced complications, is more than any one person can manage,” adds Michelle.

“After the clinics in the morning, we would run health education programs, women’s business one day, men’s business another day. We did geriatric health, managing muscle aches and pains, gentle exercise and stretches, and things like fall prevention. For the women, we talked about contraception and breast checks,” says Meera.

The pilot program appears to have been a success for the medical team and patients alike. “They had a cava ceremony for us, and we were all crying the day we left,” says Meera. “They are a proud community, so welcoming and joyous. Crowded living conditions, poor sanitation, waste services and limited access to quality water produce some fundamental challenges to maintaining good health,” says Michelle.

The Outreach team hope to return to the island in 2024, and that their clinic will serve as a case study that will inspire other luxury resorts to re-invest in their local community’s health. “If a pilot like this works, it’s feasible that these big resorts in developing countries can do this for their staff,” says Irfaan.

For more information about the outreach visit namotuislandfiji.com/blog/nabila-medicaloutreach loveleena.com.au/medicine If you would like to help in future outreaches, please get in touch with Dr Leena Zhou on hello@loveleena.com.au

Sally Schofield

 Liz moved to Bangalow early in 1989, and two of her three children were born here. For 25 years, Liz ran Ragged Blossom Native Nursery, growing and supplying a range of seedlings for many local properties. Together with the Bangalow Land & Rivercare team, she also created and edited the Village Eco News for several years.

Approaching her 60^th year, Liz decided to cut loose. With her children now self-sufficient adults, she closed the nursery, and hit the road. “I wanted to see every little nook and cranny I could find where I wouldn’t find hordes of people,” she says.

Over 27 months, she covered 55,000kms. Travel planning and tracking app, PolarSteps documented her route and Liz uploaded images and notes to complete the travelogue.

Her first trip took her through Queensland, and back to 2479 for Christmas 2020. The next trip took her to Tasmania, then through SA and up to the NT, and on to WA. There, on a trip along the mainly unsealed 647km Gibb River Road from the east to Derby WA, she “popped a tire”. It’s not called the ‘adventure seekers dream’ for nothing!

“On the road, you hear about interesting places,” she said. One such place was Lorella Springs, a privately-owned working cattle station “about the size of New York City,” east of Arnhem Land. Lorella Springs is open to four-wheel drives, and Liz explored its natural hot springs, swimming holes and waterfalls, all the while taking in the bird and plant life.

Along the way, she became attuned to the different birdsongs, seeking out iconic birds such as Carnaby’s Black Cockatoo in south-west WA. “I just went to their habitat and sat in a forest for days, ‘til one appeared,” she says. Other birds spotted included a white-quilled rock pigeon in the Bungle Bungles, on the highway from Kununurra to Broome, and a purple crowned fairy wren at Lawn Hill NP, Qld. “I so loved the Bungle Bungles,” she said.

For her 60^th birthday, her children bought her a helicopter trip flying over the magnificent rock formations. “The helicopter had no doors. I was petrified, hoping I wouldn’t drop my camera. But it was fascinating to see their shape, created by the sand blowing off the desert. They looked like beehives. It was absolutely beautiful,” she says.

Having grown native plants for so long, Liz was engrossed by the differing varieties in each state she visited. She spent nine months in WA, hunting for the “most amazing” wildflowers which were located by following a local Facebook page. “There are 12,000 wildflower species specific to WA, so about every 10km there’s a different variety.” Finding numbats in the wild was on her bucket list – found and ticked off in November last year, also in WA.

Apart from “free camping” in the bush, Liz stayed in just two caravan parks, and a variety of homes, finding work along the way. She was a cook at a cattle farm near Alice Springs for two weeks, worked at a winery near Tenterfield, at a cattle farm in Dalby WA, where she was a gardener for five weeks. At other places, she was a dog sitter, a house-sitter, a “farm-sitter”, even a nanny on a wheat farm near Geraldton, where she “got to ride on a combine harvester, even seeing how and where the wheat was delivered to the local co-op.”

For three months, she stayed on a rural property in Albany WA, where she helped the owner (who became a good friend) in her orchard, growing Tahitian limes and finger limes.

“At every farm, they showed you what it’s all about. It might be growing wheat. In Dalby, they took me to a bull sale, where they got $26,000 for a single bull, and they sold 48 that day!”

She became good friends with Carol, a 75-year-old, unmarried owner of a goat farm in Victoria. “She breeds goats, which she sends by air to Nepal, to support women abandoned by their husbands. I taught her to play backgammon. Then she became a demon and wanted to play every day!”

Solitude didn’t matter to Liz. She has a two-way radio, though no satnav, and used Mcdonald’s restaurant wifi to download digital and audio books enroute.

Travelling about 50kms on a big day, the main stress would be finding somewhere “safe” for the night, near water, to look out for birds. It helped to cross from Kununurra in a convoy with a handy mechanic, to reach the Mitchell Falls plateau. “That was 80km of the worst corrugation of my life”; even her antenna snapped.

“I took the ‘wrong’ road a lot, but I ended up finding incredible places.” She’s already planning to get back to the west to see the wildflowers again next spring. “Then I want to drive from west-to-east road across the middle of Australia, from the middle of WA to Uluru, then from Alice Springs across the Simpson Desert to Birdsville,” she said, intending to keep on the road “for a few years yet. I want to go anywhere and everywhere I possibly can.”