Attack of the Killer Possum

There are certain animals which, justifiably or otherwise, are thought of as being likable, friendly even cuddly creatures – creatures deemed worthy of being made into soft toys for children. Bears of various sorts come to mind including Koalas and Pandas, not to mention rabbits and penguins. Until last night I would have put Possums squarely into the “likable and cuddly” category – however, as I nurse my wounds, I have had to reassess Possums and put them into the “dangerous, not to be messed with, category”

We are on another short camping trip a few hours south of Sydney at a place called Green Patch in Booderee National Park. Arriving yesterday afternoon we did not have time to do much more than pitch the tent and have a meal before heading off to bed. Our previous trip to Dunn’s Swamp taught us several invaluable lessons one of which was never to leave any scraps of food out side the tent at night, even if sealed in a poly bag. We had left a couple of bags on the floor outside the tent and, during the night, we had a visit from “something” which ripped the bags to shreds to find food.

So last night we left our poly bag hanging from a tent pole to thwart ground level scavengers. Sandra had retired for the night and I was finishing off a cold beer (a fridge is an essential part of comfortable camping!) when I though I heard a noise outside. Unzipping the mozzie net I went out under the awning – nothing appeared to be amiss and the bag was hanging where we left it, apparently untouched. Suddenly, above my head, I noticed a moving bulge in the awning – “something” was making towards the bag. I suppose I should have just left it, or at least found out what it was, but my instinctive action was to give the bulge a good poke with my fist – bad move! A flying ball of fur with a thick bushy tail, about the size of a big cat or small dog, flew through the air with its legs flailing. Unfortunately, at the end of the flailing legs, there appeared to be a number of rather sharp claws which made a bit of a mess of my hand. Typing is therefore slightly painful tonight – and another lesson has been learnt.

Is this a foretaste of things to come? Sandra’s comment was “Well, at least it was only a possum. Up in Northern Territory it would probably have been a crocodile!”

Green Patch is absolutely idyllic – blue sea, blue sky and a white, white sandy beach backed by forest - I suppose this is what people back home imagine Australia to be. We wandered along the beach for about a mile with virtually no-one else in sight and then erected our light-weight beach shelter for shade and spent the day reading, sunbathing and snorkeling. A small irony, given the weather back home, was the place we parked ourselves for the day had a narrow reef running out to sea, which had the name “Scottish Rocks” – there must be a story there somewhere.

The place where we are camped almost has the feel of a pet shop with hundreds of parrot-like birds all over the place. One even landed on our table when I was preparing dinner. Kangaroos abound and of course there is the odd possum or two. Sandra has taken to bird watching and has bought the Field Guide to Australian Birds and ticks off each one she identifies. The are probably about 1200 native birds in Australia and she has ticked off ten – only 1190 to go!

We returned to Sydney by a different route (including Cambewarre Mountain Lookout and Fitzroy Falls) and had a pleasant but uneventful journey – uneventful that is until we arrived in the city. Driving around Sydney gives me palpitations and I have primarily survived heart attacks and strokes by using a SatNav. Unfortunately it has a rather whiney Australian female voice which grates somewhat. (I discovered it was possible to change it to a rather sexy French female voice which, whilst not grating, did have the obvious drawback that being guided around Sydney in French was less than useful for the linguistically challenged) So Sandra decided that we now knew Sydney well enough to give “Matilda” – as we have christened her – a miss. Yet another bad, and expensive, move. Sydney has many toll roads including tunnels and bridges. To the uninitiated the tunnels are like navigating spaghetti junction - underground, in fog, at night with your eyes closed!

Most people are aware that it is possible to drive across Sydney Harbour on the Sydney Harbour Bridge - however, it is also possible to go under the harbour by tunnel – and that is where we found ourselves – totally lost, going the wrong way, paying for the privilege and, when we got to the other side, not recognising a single place or street name. "Matilda" was given a hasty reprieve and soon had us on the right road i.e. back through the harbour tunnel at further expense. Arriving home we were in need of wine therapy.