Form One Lane

My first photo-journal entry ...

So early on the morning of New Year's Eve I went for a long-ish bike ride around South Canberra. This time around I brought my camera, a severe lack of sleep, and a bad attitude. The sleeplessness and bad attitude didn't seem to help me much at all, but the camera gave me an excuse to stop and rest regularly, and — of course — to practise with my new toy. I am not now and have never been a photographer, but I do harbour secret dreams of one day being somewhat competent behind the lense.

My first stop was at the Royal Australian Mint in Deakin; more to play around on the oval there than anything else, if only because the Mint itself is being refurbished and not looking its best at the moment.

I started by taking a photo of my tormentor.

I spent a lot of time taking photos of signs (some of the ones not attached today might make their way into a "form one lane"-themed site design). I like signs.

I do agree with the view put forth by the likes of Tom Vanderbilt and Hans Monderman, that most road signs are unnecessary, at worst a distraction and at best a crutch for poor drivers. However, I find there's something oddly charming about the combination of officiousness and helpfulness in so many of our signs. This is not to say that every sign holds that same charm.

The Mint oval is in very good condition and has some nice toys, such as a fake-turf cricket pitch (most Government playing fields use concrete), some very well-maintained practise nets, and lush, verdant grass. I got some quite attractive photos of these two argumentative peewees enjoying the grass, but I repeatedly failed to catch them in action as they head-butted each other. I don't think they were friends.

I walked a little further on. You can always tell you're in Australia because if you take a stroll around the edges of a popular sporting oval you will find at least one discarded beer bottle. I found two.

I had intended to continue on through North Deakin, but chickened out and took the easier ride on Cotter Road along the outskirts of Yarralumla. That's where the Governor-General lives. I don't know why they advertise it; actually approaching Government House along this route is frowned on by the AFP, although the rich are permitted to play golf nearby.

This part of Cotter Road provides a good view of the Woden skyline, and by "Woden skyline" I mean Lovett Tower and Scarborough House. Lovett Tower is the big white building in the centre of shot. Were I a little closer, it would appear as 26 storeys of ugly (though from a distance, I admit it's quite lovely). Lovett Tower is the tallest building in Canberra by some margin, and nearly twice the height of any other commercial building. It's visible from as far away as Belconnen, and local lore has it that the reason it's so large in the face of strict Canberra planning rules is that, on the day in 1972 (or whenever) it was approved, the height restrictions had expired — and although the Government rushed to fix this oversight, it was too, too late. I've always loved this story, but I was unable to find any evidence for it with my trusty friend Google.

I became fascinated with some of the shots my camera was able to achieve with my stronger zoom lens attached. Even roadside dirt, weeds and flowers arrested my attention.

If the Americans ever decide to do a fake landing on Mars, the Australian landscape would be quite a suitable source for any photographic evidence required.

Shamed by my laziness in Deakin, I decided to take a detour across to Scrivener Dam. The bike paths from Cotter Road past Scrivener Dam into North Canberra are supposed to be the most well-maintained in the Territory, and provide the most enjoyable ride. I wouldn't know: this day's ride was the furthest I've ever travelled along them. It was rather nice, though. I was more interested in the bubbler that had thoughtfully been provided for thirsty riders at the Dam itself. I'd have fallen to my knees and given thanks, if I'd had the slightest trust in my ability to stand again afterwards.

Don't get me wrong, the Dam itself was quite nice, too.

They don't like you getting too close, though, and there are many signs and stickers — not all of them in good repair — advising that we're being watched. Out of deference to the poor men manning the cameras, and despite the heat, I decided to leave my shirt on.

Something tells me, however, that I needn't have worried about the cameras.

The water-side of the Dam is very pretty indeed, and is at the highest level I've seen it in years. I was struck by how little graffiti and damage had been done; maybe it's because the only nearby residential area is hoity-toity Yarralumla, or maybe the region's youths are taking the camera threats seriously.

There is a viewing platform on the (less picturesque) river-side of the Dam, from which one can see the National Zoo and Acquarium and the growth of the new Arboretum. (Why is it called the Canberra International Arboretum?).

On the way to (and, well, from) Scrivener Dam is a lookout, from which one can see Government House without attracting police attention.

They still don't like you to get too close, however. I like that the "no-tresspassing" sign nearest the Lookout also advises that the House grounds use water drawn from Scrivener Dam; it invites the visitor to assume that one is the result of the other. "Don't jump the fence!", it warns, "You may come into contact with lake water!"

There is a display ring around the lookout with some interesting information. About a third of the display is dedicated to the dispossession of the Ngunnawal tribe, and invites the white visitor to try to imagine the humiliation the local Aborigines must have felt, being forced to rely on rich whites for their livelihood — even as the theft of their old way of life remained in living memory. A few signs and display boards are very poor compensation, but it's surprisingly classy, just the same. My photos, naturally, came out poorly. The boards also mentioned that the cedar tree in front of Government House was planted in 1840.

The Government House Lookout also provided a nice view of the bikepath, as six identically-clad riders passed by. They seemed to be enjoying themselves more than I had been.

Government House was built opposite the Molonglo River, which is still quite pretty, despite the presence of Scrivener. I'm trying to work in the phrase "damming with faint praise" but it's not working out well.

The Molonglo is surrounded by introduced Willow trees, which look pretty enough but are actually quite a pest, an ecological annoyance on the scale of blackberries or foxes or Conservatives.

Most of the area around the Molonglo has been claimed by an equestrian club, and I have too many friends who love horse-riding to make any comment there. Somewhere in the middle of the big field where horses gad about gaily is the Yarralumla Woolshed, which is famous for being built in 1904. Now, don't get me wrong, I like woolsheds as much as the next fellow, and have spent many a diverting hour (well, maybe two or three at most) exploring old farm buildings out west. However, it must be said that if there were a monument to Canberrans' inability to properly understand the scale of a timeline, this is it.

I rode back up through Curtin and stopped at the servo there for an ice cream and a cold softie. It turns out that Paddle Pops are only 84 calories; I doubt I could be trusted to use this information for good and not evil. I sat behind the servo (great view of the dumpster, aircon unit and toilets) and enjoyed my Paddle Pop until I noticed the lot behind me. It's an old carpark that is occasionally used by a local detailing company as a workshop and scrap-heap; I thought the bright midday sun and deep shadows would present an interesting challenge (it didn't; my camera is too good) and snapped away.

It's probably the ugliest part of Curtin, and I'm including the govvie flats in my estimate. After I'd taken a few shots a burly fellow introduced himself as the manager of the servo and asked me to piss off. Politely. Seems the company doesn't take kindly to people taking photos on Shell land. My argument that I wasn't actually taking photos of Shell land didn't hold much weight with him; I gather that he didn't consider it his job to care what sort of arguments anyone made against company regulations, and fair enough too: it isn't. So I finished my drink and scampered on home, where I collapsed, exhausted, sore, and sunburned to all buggery.