Sydney Bound and Winx

Winx at Caulfield – October 2016

When you think about it, 900 kilometres seems a long way to go to attend a race meeting. But seeing Winx racing in the Group 1 Queen Elizabeth Stakes (2000 metres), and hopefully winning her 17th race in succession, is worth the time and effort of flying up to Sydney and returning the same day. I’ll be wearied by the time I get home, but in the meantime I’ll be enjoying the change of scenery and a mini adventure.

I’m looking forward to seeing Randwick Racecourse for the first time. I doubt it will be as beautiful as Flemington, but it should be bigger than Rosehill, to which I ventured to back in 2014.

Here’s hoping that you can get a spot on the fence in the public area to watch and photograph the action, and that the rails around the track are not too high to impede one’s view or stymie taking photos.

The Queen Elizabeth Stakes is run as Race 7, at the reasonable time of 3.15pm, early enough to not worry about getting back to the airport in time, and late enough to accustom myself to the course layout, and work out a good spot to stand on the public lawn fence.

It all depends on planes, trains and buses at what time I arrive at the track; with any luck it will be around 1.30pm. So I should be in plenty of time to watch the first of the four Group 1 races, which is the Australian Oaks. A rather good field of 14 staying fillies will contest the race with Victorian Oaks tearaway winner Lasqueti Spirit, New Zealand Oaks winner Bonneval,  New Zealand 1000 Guineas, and Surround Stakes winner La Bella Diosa and Victorian fillies Nurse Kitchen and Harlow Gold the top chances.

Winx faces eight rivals in the Queen Elizabeth Stakes, chief among them Hartnell, who has now raced against her six times without toppling her.

Others gunning for second spot are Exospheric, The United States and Doncaster Mile runners up Happy Clapper and Sense of Occasion. Naturally, all hearts will be hoping that Winx continues her winning streak.

The Sydney Cup, run over the 3200 metres has a rather uninspiring field of 14 runners, most of them European imports, all in with a chance of winning. There are no standouts, but recent winners Big Duke, Annus Mirabilis, Assign and Tally could be in the finish somewhere.

The final Group 1 of the afternoon is the Coolmore Legacy Stakes (fomerly known as the Queen of the Turf Stakes), a race for mares and fillies over 1600 metres. 

It has a rather nice field with some classy mares such as First Seal, William Reid Stakes winner Silent Sedition, Coolmore Classic winner Heavens Above, Zanbagh and Dixie Blossoms, and smart fillies Foxplay and Oregon’s Day.

The weather in Sydney on Saturday should be mild and dry, and the track will be much improved from the last few weeks, with little rain falling on the city this week.

No doubt Randwick will be crowded with Winx fans, but I gather the throngs are not as huge as those at Flemington during the Melbourne Cup carnival.

Sydney Adventure – Part 1 – Relatives and Races

Harbour Bridge and Opera House from Circular Quay

You may not think that a trip to Sydney is much of an adventure, but for me it was, as I hardly ever get to go anywhere outside of Melbourne. I don’t mind travelling solo, and enjoy getting out of my comfort zone.

I met a young woman on the train to the airport when I was leaving, who had flown for the first time in her life, and was anxious about finding her terminal at the airport going home to the Gold Coast, or even getting off the train at the correct stop. She certainly needed her horizons to be expanded.

Family

Arriving in Sydney town on Friday at around noon, and after checking into my hotel, I headed off to Mortdale out in the southern suburbs to visit my father’s youngest brother and wife. They’re now in their late eighties, and I had not seen them for many years. It was great to catch up, and we spent the afternoon chatting merrily away about a number of things, family matters included. My uncle has a great collection of old photos, dating back to the 19th century. He and my aunt at one stage did a search for family history and travelled back to the town in Somerset where our branch of the family originated. My great, great grandfather George, at the age of 34, emigrated to Australia in 1839 on the ship Morley. He died in Melbourne in 1886 at the age of 84.

Anyway, as my father died when I was only two, I have no memory of him, but his younger brothers, of whom there are only two left,  have always told me about him.  My uncle this time remarked that my dad was one the bravest people he ever knew. This is because, when my dad was a boy he got a splinter from a cow bail in his leg which became gangrenous and the leg was eventually amputated at the thigh. So my father was one legged, and was adept on a crutch. My uncle said that he never bemoaned his fate and was the most cheerful, thoughtful and kindest of elder brothers.  It’s a pity he died so young (he was 39 years old) and that I never knew him. Who knows what different path my life would have taken had he lived.

When I emerged from Central station after catching the train at the airport, by sheer chance I came out at the correct exit, close to the hotel I was staying at. Returning from Mortdale I exited on the other side of the station and got lost. I have my phone, but I find looking at maps on it is very hard, my vision not being 100%, so I walked, and walked, and walked until I finally found the right street and eventually my hotel. By that time it was quite late, so after dining at the hotel I called it a night.

Racing at Rosehill

The weather the whole time I stayed in Sydney was dry, warm and humid, which was good for attending the races at Rosehill as it promised a good track.

Relying once more on Sydney’s train system I successfully made it to the track, even though we were obliged to catch a bus from Olympic Park to the racecourse due to railway track work over the weekend.

If you’ve been to one racecourse, you’ve been to them all, as they are generally laid out in much the same way. And so it was at Rosehill.

It’s quite a small racecourse, but it was easy to get a good view of the races from the fence, though the mounting yard – a long narrow space – was not really accessible to Joe Public. 

I arrived just before Race 2, so was able to test my camera in the conditions.

Race 2 down the straight – Earnest Ernest the winner (pink and yellow silks) is on the outside about to overtake the leaders

The races in Sydney run in a clockwise direction, so I had to adjust my mind to the difference as I initially looked anti clockwise to see where the race was at ala Melbourne direction, but soon got used to the changed view.

You would think Rosehill, with its name would be resplendent with roses, but the Flemington roses leave it for dead. It does have a rose archway where the horses leave the mounting yard for the track…

Rose archway at Rosehill

…and the statue of famous old sprinter Todman has a wreath of roses around his neck.

Todman statue

Which leads me into Race 3 which was the Group 2 Todman Stakes for Golden Slipper bound two year old colts and geldings, run over 1200 metres.  I was keen to see the Magic Millions Two Year Old Classic winner Unencumbered, who started as favourite.

Unencumbered on his way to the track from the mounting yard

However, he was upstaged by Guelph’s little half brother Ghibellines who romped home at huge 40/1 odds.

Race 3 finish – Ghibellines is in the lead, before winning the Todman Stakes

Ghibellines returns to scale

His big sister Guelph ran third in the last race, but I left the track directly after the Ranvet Stakes in order to be in time for the Astro Dinner, so regretfully missed seeing her in action as she apparently has since been retired.

In Race 4, the Reisling Stakes, the fillies equivalent of the Todman Stakes, Earthquake continued on her winning ways,  one of the few favourites of the day to score a win.

Earthquake returning to scale after winning the Reisling Stakes

The two Group One features were scheduled later in the afternoon, so I took the opportunity during the interval to explore the racecourse facilities and the stalls area, where Fiorente was being walked…

…and Catkins was being prepared for the Coolmore Classic

Catkins started as favourite for the Coolmore Classic, though at pretty good odds of $4.60.  She was denied her first Group 1 victory by Steps In Time who, ridden aggressively by Jim Cassidy, took off at the 600 and left the rest of the field behind, leading by several lengths. Sweet Idea closed the gap in the straight, but could not quite catch her. Catkins managed to run third.

Steps In Time returns to scale after winning the Coolmore Classic

The Group One Ranvet Stakes was expected to be a match race between Fiorente and It’s A Dundeel, and they started as equal favourites. However, nothing in racing ever turns out how you would expect, and such was the case this time.

In my preview of the Ranvet Stakes in my last blog post I advised readers not to ignore Silent Achiever, and she proved me right. She pipped race leader, the Queen’s horse, Carlton House, at the post.  He took the lead early in the race and had put a good couple of lengths on the rest of the field by the turn. Silent Achiever raced up near the speed and somehow or other caught Carlton House on the line in a thrilling finish. It’s A Dundeel ran third, but was disappointing overall, as was Fiorente.

Carlton House looked a picture leaving the mounting yard, Kerrin McEvoy resplendent in the Queen’s silks. Carlton House has a completely different appearance to Australian and New Zealand bred horses. He was bred in the USA.

Carlton House

Ranvet heroine Silent Achiever on her way to the track

Unfortunately I didn’t get a good photo of It’s A Dundeel, but I did notice that even though he is still a small stallion, he has thickened out and certainly looked quite magnificent.

I hastened to the exit after the Ranvet, not even waiting for the horses to return to scale and spent the next hour or so travelling firstly by a bus, then by a train stopping all 15 stations to Central.

As I was feeling quite sweaty after a hot day in the sun, and greasy with sun screen, I decided to have a quick shower before heading off to the Astro Dinner…

To be continued.

Bound for Botany Bay

Sydney Opera House & Harbour Bridge from the  Botanical Gardens - 2005

This coming Friday I am flying to Sydney for the weekend; off on a solo adventure ostensibly to attend Mystic Medusa’s Astro New Year Dinner, which at a mad whim I booked for as soon I knew about it.

The last time I visited Sydney was in October 2005, which when I took the above photo, and on that occasion I was there to spend time with American friends, weird fiction writer Jeff Vandermeer and his lovely wife Ann. We had a fun time walking around Sydney, visiting the zoo and dining out in Chinatown.  So at least I got to know the city quite well then.

This time I plan to spend some time visiting relatives and also attend what looks to be an excellent day of racing at Rosehill on Saturday afternoon where a host of my favourite racehorses will be running. On Sunday I’ll explore Sydney, perhaps visit the NSW Gallery, where they have a great collection of Margaret Preston paintings.

The Astro New Year Dinner is to celebrate the beginning of the Astrological cycle, which starts at the autumn equinox every year in the sign of Aries and begins the procession of the sun signs through the year. 

Having been interested in Astrology most of my life and being a self taught horoscope compiler, I naturally find Mystic Medusa’s Blog interesting reading.  Her perception and knowledge of the subject is awe inspiring, and her writing style is sassy, smart and witty.  I shall enjoy mingling with other pseudo intellectual astro bitches (Mystic’s term) at the dinner. I never get a chance to discuss astrology with any of my  circle of friends, so it will be a treat.

I rather wonder how we will be seated at the dinner. Mystic did mention putting all the sun signs on their own separate tables, or maybe compatible signs will be put with each other, or maybe they’ll be divided into the elements, fire with fire, earth with earth etc. Whatever, it should be a fun night, and I’m really looking forward to meeting Mystic Medusa in person.

The Solomon Islands

Reading Mister Pip brought back memories of a holiday B and I had in 1990 where we spent two weeks in the Solomon Islands.

It was a very interesting and unusual holiday and was brought about at the instigation of my Uncle Lenny who lived there. He had gone to the Solomons shortly after the war, having fallen in love with the idea of the fuzzy wuzzy angels who had helped the Australian and American armies during the battle for Guadalcanal.

Uncle Lenny was my father’s third youngest brother (there were seven brothers in all) and had volunteered for the army in 1939. He saw action in a number of the great battles of World War II – Greece, Crete and El Alamein. He was wounded three times and eventually was sent home as unfit for service.

After the war Lenny found a vocation for missionary work and eventually became a Marist brother and took up his work in the Solomon Islands. He remained there for over 40 years until his death in 2000.

He was my favourite uncle during my childhood as he always bought me a book whenever he visited. He maintained a friendship with my mother throughout the years after my father’s death in 1949.

Anyway, Lenny was always inviting us to visit and stay with him in the Solomons so eventually I decided to go.

When we alighted from the plane at Henderson airport on Guadalcanal, notwithstanding being hit with the heat of the tropics, we were plunged into a kind of tropical Father Ted show. We were whisked off to a nun’s house and fed a ghastly repast which we felt obliged to eat even though we’d eaten plenty on the plane. It consisted of pretty basic fare like spam in aspic. In fact the food in the Solomon Islands was nothing to write home about as meat was scarce and had to be imported from Australia. Of course there were pigs and chickens all over the place but they were being saved for special celebrations. We didn’t get to eat any of them, except when Sister whatever cooked us a roast chicken which we transported in its pan back to the uncle’s place over miles of bumpy roads, the grease slopping everywhere.

Lenny's House at Aruligo

Uncle Len lived at a place called Aruligo which is at the north western end of the island about a half hour drive from Honiara. It was beautiful, a tropical paradise by the sea, overlooking Savo Island and Iron Bottom Sound where battleships of World War II were strewn in great numbers under the water. Aruligo was used as a setting in the film The Thin Red Line. Lenny was the only white person there, living by a native village and a small coconut plantation.

The Welcoming Choir - Justina is the girl at the back on the right

When we reached Aruligo that first night we were greeted by the village and welcomed with a song and dance organised by Lenny’s housekeeper, the wonderful Justina. She was a young woman of the village and was an incredibly sweet person. She was multi skilled - she could even drive a truck. Trucks were the primary method of transport in the Solomon Islands because you could fit half a village in the tray of the vehicle.

Truck transport

As my uncle was of the religious brotherhood, we hobnobbed with a variety of priests and even the Catholic Bishop of the Solomon Islands. They were an extraordinary collection of characters, these priests, and friendly, interesting guys. B, having no religious background, unlike me who was pretty well raised in convents, was initially somewhat nonplussed at meeting so many of the Catholic fraternity, but relaxed when he realised they were laid back guys who enjoyed a beer with best.

Malaitan village on an island on Langa Langa Lagoon

We visited priests in outposts further from Aruligo. There was Father Percy who welcomed us with a cigarette in one hand and a whisky in the other, calling on the native boys to stuff beer in his fridge, and another who lived on Malaita Island.

View from behind pilot on the way to Malaita

We flew to Malaita on a tiny plane sitting directly behind the pilot. It was quite an amazing flight and it was hard to believe how we could land on a small clearing cut out of the jungle which was indeed Malaita airport. Whilst there we took a trip to Langa Langa lagoon, which is dotted with man made islands. In Malaita there is a cult of shark calling, though we didn’t witness this. B however had a close encounter with a coral shark while snorkelling off the reef close to Aruligo. When asked about sharks in the area, the native people would just laugh as if the answer was obvious. Coming back from Malaita we travelled on the Compass Rose a cargo cum passenger vessel laden with bananas, coconuts and pineapples as well as betel nut chewing natives. We were the only white folk on board. From the deck you could see flying fish and dolphins, but down below, to which we were eventually obliged to descend due to the wind, it was muggy and we passed the five hour voyage in a fug of tropical heat watching the rituals of betel nut ingestion. A stick of coral is stirred into the mix to add a touch of lime. The betel nut chewers are distinguished by dreadfully stained teeth. I was not tempted to try it.

Native hut

The Melanesian people of the Solomon Islands are lovely folk, happy and friendly. We were treated like vice regal visitors in the outlying villages. Everyone knew Lenny and his welcome was extended to us.

The current political troubles had not started when we were there in 1990, though there was an undercurrent of dislike on the part of the Guadalcanal people for the Malaitans.

The view from Lenny's veranda - Savo Island is in the distance

Lenny’s house in Aruligo was right next to the sea. It had no beach; the land running directly into the sea, with the coconut palms marching straight to the edge. The water was warm and clear. Close to the water’s edge was a fresh, and cool, small spring-fed pool. The local villagers used it to wash their clothes and themselves and I preferred swimming in it to the ocean.

B & I slept on camp stretchers. In the night we could hear giant cockroaches scuttling between us and the chirping of the geckos permeated the night air. I liked the geckos; they were about the only wild life, other than cane toads, that we saw in any great quantity.

There are a great many relics of the battle for Guadalcanal lying around in the jungle and we visited a small museum which was maintained by an evangelical fellow. He had a collection of old aeroplanes and other military equipment.

B leaning against an old plane from World War II at outdoor museum

It was hot of course, but in the afternoon the sea breezes cooled us as we lounged on the veranda of Lenny’s sea side house. After dark, mosquitoes were out in force and I managed to get a small tropical ulcer after a bite became infected. The natives were all more or less prone to malaria and tropical ulcers, some of which were horrific to behold – gaping wounds where the ulcer had penetrated almost to the bone. Lenny had a sort of clinic going on Sunday after mass where he dispensed malaria tablets and dressed wounds. B helped him during the time we were there and won the gratitude of the people.

Waiting for medical treatment on Lenny's veranda - Lenny is standing on the left

Flywire screens were de rigueur as were louvered windows in all the houses we visited – the flywire to stop the mossies and louvers for primitive air conditioning.

It was a laid back place, everyone did things slowly and it took forever to get anything fixed. For instance, Lenny’s electricity generator was working the first night we were there, and then broke down. It was fixed two weeks later on the day before we left. It made cooking rather difficult as there was only a gas hotplate. Somehow or other – B and I took over the cooking shortly after we arrived – we managed by balancing saucepans on top of each other. We ate a lot of salads.

On our last night at Aruligo the village people cooked us up a feast which consisted of fish and various other native delicacies, all of which were very tasty. They also put on a show of dancing which they found hilarious and we found amusing.

Dancer

Despite the primitive accommodation and the tropical heat, we were both very sorry to leave, having grown very fond of the villagers. Driven by Justina, the entire village piled into the truck and came to the airport to see us off. We were touched by this gesture and the hostess ushering us on board the plane was impressed.

The farewell committee at the airport

B reckons it was best holiday he’s ever had and I agree. It was certainly interesting and we were lucky to be able to meet so many of the people, visit different places and see so much local colour.

We also saw things we’d never seen before, like fireflies, flying fish and a hibiscus that changed colour as the day progressed. It started out white in morning and gradually grew more flushed until it was a deep red by late afternoon. Plant life was profuse – anything would grow in the rich soil. Coconut palms were everywhere and you had to be careful not to walk under them as a dropping coconut would kill in a flash if it landed on your head. They made a loud thump when they fell.

Solomon Islands culture, with its bloodthirsty past was typified by the deity Nguzunguzu who is represented as carrying a skull (for war) or a bird (for peace). Used as a figurehead on head hunting canoes, Nguzunguzu’s image is common. At the bishop’s house, in the dining room, there was a very fine carving of Nguzunguzu carrying a bird. He is also on the Solomon Island dollar coin.

Carving of Nguzunguzu

We have at home a carving of a devil devil given to us by Justina’s friend, Thomasina. She gave it to us as a going away present. It sits on top of a stereo speaker in our living room. I am unsure of what it actually means, but it looks attractively weird. Wood carvings of sharks and dolphins were easy to come by and very cheap. I bought several as presents for relatives.