Travelling Pathetically - Eels with a Dash of Turtle Edition

 Those of you who have followed my blog over the years will be aware that there are a number of recurring themes.  There are birthday greetings to various emperors, war games write ups, travel journals and the doings of a group of psychologically disturbed plush toys.  Something else that crops up from time to time is eels.  I have developed an unnatural fondness for what is basically a fish that was too lazy to grow fins.  Despite this I go out of my way to find eels whenever I can.  This isn't exactly difficult as eels seem to be everywhere.  If you spill a glass of water in Sydney an eel will turn up before you have time to fetch a mop.  Once they develop a chlorine tolerance no backyard swimming pool will be safe.

My obsession with interest in eels began in 2014 when a friend and I walked through a bit of Sydney Park.  They were still in the process of constructing the wetlands and my friend told me there were eels although we didn't see any that day.  I sought out and discovered eels in various other wet (or at least damp) places around Sydney but yesterday having run out of conveniently available bushland to walk through I decided to drop down to Sydney Park and see if I could encounter eels.

Sydney Park stretches over some 40 plus hectares of former garbage tip and brickworks and it has to be said that it's probably a bit more aesthetically pleasing now than it was then.  There are paths, wide open grassy bits, hilly bits and tree covered bits.  There are also wetlands.  These wetlands aren't natural, rather they're a water recycling system that takes storm water, filters out the mucky bits (most of it I would suspect) and then uses the newly clean water to water the park.  Along the way a series of ponds provide a home for a variety of plants and animals that like hanging out in close proximity to water.  It is possible the eels were introduced but I suspect its far more likely that they simply turned up one day and have proved impossible to evict.

Despite the presence of wetlands, trees and other nature stuff Sydney Park isn't the usual sort of place I would go for a walk.  For starters its full of people.  For second its full of dogs.  I don't dislike dogs (and I'm at least ambivalent about people) but I don't like encountering large numbers of them when I'm out for a walk (or at any other time to be fair).  Still the siren call of eels overwhelmed my latent misanthropy and I set forth under cloudless skies to sample the delights of Sydney Park.  When I arrived it was obvious that half the population of Sydney (both human and canine) had had the same idea.  I did my best not to photograph any of them.

I passed by surviving brick works buildings on my way into the park, preserved as a monument to the days when we had a manufacturing sector and headed in the general direction of the wetlands.

Brickworks remnants

Chimneys are an integral part of brickworks

I was met with a vast horde of dogs many of whom had humans attached to them by a leash.  Skirting around and sometimes over the exuberant canine horde I headed away from the trimmed, well groomed part of the park towards soggier environs (which to be fair were equally well groomed but they had gone for the designer messy look).  Along the way I took the opportunity presented by occasional breaks in the people to take photos.

Ah the untamed wilderness (with disabled access)

I encountered my first piece of wetland when the path I was following ended at a fence.  On the other side of the fence was more wet than land.  A broad pond presented itself and I looked eagerly into its depths but no eels presented themselves.  A series of terracotta pipes did present themselves, I thought they were part of the drainage system but apparently they were an art installation designed to symbolise, well something to do with terracotta and water I suppose.

A wetland with terracotta pipes

Although no eels had paraded before my eager eyes lots of quite minute life did so.  Loads of what were either tadpoles or very small fish swam through the water in front of me and dragon flies hovered over various bits of waterlogged plant life.  I was unreasonably pleased at seeing dragon flies as I simply don't seem to encounter them that often nowadays, I was glad to see there are some left.

No eels but a rather handsome dragon fly

Eventually having satiated an unknown desire for dragon flies I headed on to the next pond circling left as a sign had promised me a frog pond.  Apparently four different types of frogs make their home in the wetlands and while the signs made no explicit promise I assumed that the frog pond would be the place to see them.  There were mini cascades running between pond one and pond two (they have names which I didn't bother learning) to provide an environment for the sorts of plants that like to hang around cascades.

Enough of cascades, the frog pond beckoned.  I arrived at the frog pond or, to be more accurate, I arrived at a sign that informed me the frog pond was directly behind it.  All I could see was rushes and grass.  There were certainly no frogs disporting themselves for the amusement of the general public.  Now that I had arrived the sign confessed that one might not see frogs (you could have hidden a gorilla in those rushes) but you might hear them.  I listened, I didn't hear them.  Mind you it was difficult to hear anything except enthusiastic barking.  And dogs.

 The frog pond.  Presumably the frogs, and the pond, are in there somewhere

Feeling just a little cheated frogwise I headed back to the wetlands proper.  I didn't know it yet but things were about to look up.  The principal drawcard of the wetlands is the birdlife they attract but up until now birdlife had been a little thin on the ground, or water.  There were hardly great flocks of birds hanging around but as I approached the next piece of reed clogged water definite signs of avian life presented themselves.  There were ibis because there always are, the one below manages to look a little less scraggy and desperate than they usually do.

An uncharacteristically impressive ibis

When I arrived at the viewing platform a coot presented itself for my photographic delectation.  I know it was a coot because I outsource my bird identifying to a friend who knows about this stuff.

The top one is a coot, apparently

I leant against the rail and watched the coot for a while and an eel swam by.  I fumbled for my camera but it was gone.  Displaying a level of patience I exhibit in no other part of my life I hung around waiting for it to return.  Return it did and indeed it seemed quite happy to pose for photographs.  I took lots of photographs.  They were not particularly successful.  If you're wandering through the bush and you encounter bigfoot I am definitely not the person you want holding the camera.  The trouble is the water was brown and green and eels are also brown and green.  Also of course the eels are under said water and I am not.

The best of the eel shots.  I have many more which are worse

Despite the photographic issues I was delighted with my day.  There had been birds, dragon flies and eels.  I skipped out of the park and trotted through Newtown for coffee.  Along the way I met a friend and boasted about my eel success.

"Did you see the turtles?" she asked?

Crap!

So the next day I went back to the damn park to see if I could see some turtles.  More hordes of people, more packs of dogs, about the same number of dragon flies and an equal lack of frogs.  Fortunately my friend had been able to tell me which pond the turtles normally hung out in.  I went there trying not to get my expectations up too high.  There was more birdlife on the water, specifically in the shape of a pair of handsome black swans with an incredibly gorgeous little baby cygnet.  The parents (I presume they were parents) kept close to the cygnet which was wise as there were eels in the water.  I saw one lurking with intent but I'm pretty sure the pond had the same number of cygnets when I left as when I arrived.

Two and a half swans

Because its too cute not to have another photo

Delightful though they were the swans were not the reason for my visit.  Neither was a tree full of ibis. I still can't believe they roost in trees.  I always thought they slept under a urine stained blanket at a railway station.  Even the eel disporting itself in the water didn't hold my attention for more than fifteen minutes or so.  Instead I scanned the water for turtles without success.  Then I took a closer look at the end of a log sticking into the water.  The end of the log was occupied by a turtle.  Pretty soon the end of the log was occupied by two turtles.  I took a photo until I realised what they were doing at which point I felt embarrassed for invading their privacy.  I'm still going to post the photo though.  How often do you get the opportunity to see some hot testudine porn?

Introductions are made

Insert your own wildly inappropriate sound effects here

I'm presuming this is the female as the other one seems to have buggered off the moment they were finished

The turtles, quite cleverly, were in the most difficult to access part of the pond.  The photos above were taken at the very edge of my camera's zoom function and I'm amazed they turned out so well.  My cup ranneth over.  There had been eels, dragon flies, swans and turtles fucking.  What more can you ask for from a day out?

I strolled out of the park and promptly got lost.  On my way back to finding myself I passed a cement works.  Naturally I didn't take a photo of that.  Oh wait a minute, yes I did.

Silly After Action Report - Spittelmarkt

 A harried looking Soviet tank officer brought his T-34 to a screeching halt and took his life in his hands by popping the hatch and looking around.  Unfortunately the map in his hand was printed in Cyrillic and since it didn't depict rubble it was of limited use.  So far he had been navigating by tourist guide.  Behind him a long queue of tanks, assault troops and, for some reason, an American halftrack were jammed on the rubble strewn street waiting for him to make up his mind.  

Sweating nervously the officer spied a ragged civilian cringing in a pile of rubble.

"You," he screamed in his best German.  "How do I get to the Spittelmarkt?"

"You go straight down Saliva Boulevard and turn left at Expectoration Platz," replied the German without missing a beat.

"Did you enjoy that?" asked the tank officer.

"Little bit, yeah."

The tank officer could feel the eyes of his regimental commander burning into his back.  The regimental commissar was no doubt considering burning other things into his back.

"Look I'm desperate ok.  Tell me where the Spittelmarkt is and you won't be the loser."

The German relented, "Ok, straight down the road, try and avoid the rubble.  It's the place with all of the machine guns and StuGs.  You can't miss it."

With a wave of thanks the tank officer dropped back into his vehicle.

"Straight down the road," he told his driver.  "We can't miss it."

"A statement that cuts both ways," muttered his driver as he revved the engine.

After botching Operation Barbarossa as the Germans I was kindly given the opportunity to botch the taking of Berlin as the Soviets.  Dave Wilson and I played this one over a couple of sessions.  It is late April 1945, Berlin is in ruins and appropriately Wagnerian music is playing as the defenders of Berlin stage their own personal gotterdammerung amongst the rubble.  Down at the Spittelmarkt various misplaced Scandinavians plus a smattering of locals who didn't get out of the way in time are preparing to defend several square feet of Berlin to the death.  This is scenario FT 196 - Spittelmarkt.  I command assault troops of the all conquering Soviet army looking to capture the vital U-bahn station before reinforcements can be rushed in from Airbnbs in Kreuzberg.  The objective is to ensure that no good order German squads (or functioning AFVs) remain within two hexes of the Spittelmarkt itself which from the map is little more than a glorified road junction.

To plough through the rubble I have a formidable force.  Ten first line squads, a pair of 458 elite squads and three squads of 628 assault engineers.  These are led by four officers including a doughty 9-1 and have a trio of light machine guns and three demo charges to assist them along.  Also present are three T-34/85 tanks and an American sourced M3A1 half track tossed in I can only assume for historical verisimilitude.  On turn two a pair of IS2M tanks arrive to provide some heavy metal.

Defending the Spittelmarkt is a collection of SS who should really have read the writing on the wall by now.  Eight squads ranging from 447s to awesome 658s with three leaders and a hero plus a hmg, a pair of panzerschrecks and two light machine guns stand ready to defend approximate a block of downtown Berlin.  Assisting them are a pair of StuG IIIGs and four roadblocks.  Coming on on turn three are some distinctly unenthusiastic Volksturm in the form of a second line squad and two conscripts with a 7-0 leader an lmg and another panzerschreck.  Before the game starts we both get to place a bunch of rubble counters where we think they will do the most good.

Below is the at start map.  I've set up heavily weighted on the right as that looked to be the safest way forward while secondary forces would attack the centre and left.

My assault engineers are all on the right as is my entire armoured force

Things didn't go too badly in the first couple of turns.  My forces on the right ate up territory heading for the Spittelmarkt while managing to keep out of the sight of the hmg team which was of course up on the second floor of a building I failed to rubble effectively.  In the centre I pushed forward against his defenders in the rubble and overwhelmed them in close combat.  Only on the left had disaster struck as I had misjudged lines of sight and a chunk of my attacking force were carved up by the hmg team.  Still casualties were acceptable so far and I was pressing in on Dave's defences.

So far no tank losses, this would soon change

I had now struck the centre of Dave's defences.  I parked a T34 behind a roadblock to take on a StuG only to get smothered in smoke.  Another T-34 went up in flames when he fired a panzerschreck out of a building.  I began to get that creeping feeling of helplessness I always get whenever I play armour against Dave.  This feeling would only increase as the game proceeded.  Still for right now I wasn't looking too bad.  A tank had been sacrificed but my beasts were coming and my infantry was definitely pressing forward.  Also one of his StuGs had run out of smoke, it's always good news when Dave runs out of smoke.

In the next turn Dave's StuG would manage to shock another T-34 despite the presence of a road block and smoke but my infantry were starting to grind forward and the IS2s were coming up to replace losses.  I killed his shreck halfsquad and started heading towards the Spittelmarkt itself.  I didn't even bog an IS2 grinding through rubble.  Dave's hero would meet an unlamented end and I deluded myself that things were still going reasonably well.

Things are still going well, says he in a fit of self delusion

Dave repositioned his armour to better protect what appeared to be the most important building while I brushed aside the last of his outlying defences on the right.  The Spittelmarkt appeared to be within my grasp.  I had even managed to reconstitute a bit of a left flank which was tiptoeing forward hoping not to be noticed.  However Dave's surviving forces (most of them) received a boost as a bunch of ragged, fear crazed civilians turned up to "bolster" the defences.  How could I lose from here?  Read on.

OK, things could be worse.  Patience young Jedi

"I've got this," I thought in what in retrospect can only be considered deranged hubris.  I sent a T-34 around behind one of his StuGs forgetting for a moment that this never works and pressing forward with my infantry.  Everything seemed set for the final assault.  One of my IS2s had nestled behind a roadblock and was exchanging shots with his other StuG similarly behind a roadblock.  Turret hits would be the order of the day.

So pressing forward, let's just ignore the vulture hovering over my head

Somehow, at this point I can't remember how, Dave managed to extract his StuG from the menace of two tanks including an IS2 without so much as a scratch on the paintwork.  His other StuG smoked out my other IS2 but in a brief moment of glory this didn't stop it from blowing up the StuG in gouts of flames with a return fire shot.  Things really were looking quite good.

If you're wondering what I'm doing with the M3A1 halftrack the answer is "I don't know"

Then I went slightly mad.  In reference to that last sentence, delete the word "slightly".  I lost my remaining T-34s to fausts and schrecks but the real problem was an act of staggering stupidity on my part.  With my assault troops in readiness I decided to send a major kill stack (a pair of 628s, lmgs and the 9-1) into the building rubble despite the fact that him hmg team was adjacent.  I think I was hoping the plus three modifier for rubble would protect them.  The 9-1 and a squad died and the remaining one was broken and suddenly my assault force was in ruins.  It really was a piece of prize idiocy on my part.  The game to all intents and purposes ended there but I struggled on.  I still had my IS2s and a smattering of other squads so significant firepower was still at my command.

Snatching defeat from the jaws of victory

We could have ended it there but I wanted to see if I could achieve anything further so Dave very kindly agreed to keep crucifying me.  With my attack on the right drowned in a welter of blood I shifted my focus to the left while I attempted to salvage something from the wreckage.  My trump card here was my second IS2 weaving its way slowly through a cluster of buildings to somewhere it could be helpful.  I had successfully stripped some concealment and was attempting to break down the remaining defenders to help my attenuated assault force forward.

Perhaps there is still a faint chance

I now had both my IS2s up on the front lines while his surviving StuG had retreated back to its original location.  I had managed to chase some of his troops on the left out of their positions and I was gearing up for the final push.  I even had a toehold in the building with his hmg team (which, incidentally, is out of position for the victory conditions).  I would  need to use the weighty firepower of my IS2s to shoot my way forward.  At that point Dave decided to try a deliberate immobilisation attempt on one of my IS2s.  He was successful.  The crew bailed out whereupon a snake eyes on an IFT shot guaranteed that one of my two remaining tanks was now out of the battle.  The writing was not just on the wall, it had been tattooed onto my face.  I took the hint and conceded.

No, no there isn't

Well I lost that one.  I lost it with one stupid decision and threw away a very winnable game.  Despite that we both enjoyed this one (perhaps Dave a little more than me).  Once again I learnt that I am simply incapable of using armour efficiently.  The best use I made of my T-34s was using their burning hulks as cover.  Many thanks to Dave for the game.  Next time I'll try not to be an idiot (bold promise I know).

Two Volksturm troopers watched with polite curiosity as a Soviet tank officer staggered into view.  He smelt of smoke and despair and for some reason he had a Baedeker's Guide to the Ruins of Berlin in one hand.

"Is this the Spittelmarkt?" he demanded in German that would have been quite good if it wasn't for the edge of hysteria.

One of the Volksturmers nodded.

"The U-bahn station is just down the road," he added helpfully.  The Soviet officer looked around wildly as if expecting a U-bahn station to leap on him from behind a bush.  The Volksturmer pointed and the Soviet officer staggered off.

"Why do you think he wants to get the U-bahn station?" asked the other Volksturmer.  His companion shrugged.

"I think he just wants to get away from here."

"Speaking of which..."

Birthday Greetings #84

 It's been quite a while since I did a birthday shout out for the simple reason I was running out of the type of people I normally commemorate in this blog.  However my interest has been rekindled so I'm very happy to say a happy birthday to Alexios III, Emperor of Trebizond.  Of course this does give rise to a number of questions like "what the hell is Trebizond?,  Where the hell is Trebizond? and Huh?!!  Let me answer those questions a succinctly as I can.

Some empires are built on bloody fisted conquest, others by subtle political manipulations.  Then there are empires which are formed largely because everyone who might have been minded to prevent them was busy with something else at the time.  The empire of Trebizond falls squarely into this category.  The city of Trebizond was (and under its Turkish name of Trabzon still is) a city on the southern shore of the Black Sea.  Until 1204 it was a modest and little thought about part of the Byzantine Empire which stretched across the Balkans and a good deal of Asia Minor.  Then in 1204 the Fourth Crusade happened.  The Fourth Crusade was the latest attempt by the Christian states of western Europe to dispossess the incumbent Moslems of the Holy Land.  For various convoluted reasons (Venetian skullduggery) this army of the faith wound up capturing, sacking and burning to the ground Constantinople the capital of Byzantium and the largest Christian city in the world.  It never got anywhere near the Holy Land.

Having literally ripped the heart out of the empire the Crusaders then appointed one of themselves as the new emperor, however there weren't all that many of them and outside the smouldering ruins of Constantinople various Byzantine successor states managed to set themselves up on the territory of what had once been the Byzantine empire.  Even by these standards Trebizond was a distinct non-entity.  It was ruled by descendants of the previous dynasty but one that had ruled the empire proper and that seemed a good enough reason to claim an imperial title for what was little more than a port and a strip of beach front.

Despite this the "empire" survived for over two hundred years until the Ottoman sultan Mehmed II crushed it with a sort of backhand flick of his wrist when he was trying to swat a fly.  Our boy Alexios III however reigned when the empire was at its height.  "Height" being in this case a somewhat relative term.  It was a strip of coastal territory bounded (and protected) by the Pontic Mountains to the south.  It also had some claim on a chunk of the southern coast of Crimea on the other side of the Black Sea.  Despite its modest proportions Trebizond was quite prosperous having benefited from the Mongol destruction of Baghdad which made it the only surviving city at the western end of the Silk Road.  In fact a good deal of the history of Trebizond involves it benefiting from the destruction of other places by other people.

Coming to power in 1349 Alexios immediately discovered that he had a problem; the fact that the empire was surrounded by enemies any one of which could have crushed it with one fist didn't stop the local nobility from constantly intriguing, rebelling and generally making a nuisance of themselves.  It is indicative that Alexios was accepted as emperor because he was young and inexperienced and thus the nobility thought he would be an easy mark.  A civil war was fought which Alexios managed to win (or at least survive which is much the same thing) and the nobility were brought more or less to heel.  Alexios himself gained quite a bit of revenue from confiscating the estates of traitors.  The amount of wealth he gained is an indication of the sheer number of traitors he encountered.  Nevertheless he persevered and wound up dying of natural causes which, when you're a ruler with a treacherous and murderous nobility counts as a definite win.

Alexios used the money to endow monasteries and, more sensibly, to build up the defences of Trebizond itself.  This didn't stop the occasional adventurer, Italian city state, local despot or disgruntled nobleman from attempting to conquer the place but it did make their job a bit harder.

In foreign relations Alexios relied on his sister and his daughters.  That is he married them off to every greedy, ambitious neighbour he could find in the hopes that they might be persuaded not to conquer their father in law.  This was actually the backbone of Trapuzentine foreign policy for much of its existence and it seemed to work for as long as the supply of daughters lasted. 

Domestic Bliss

 I stared out at the uniformly grey skies with disapproval.  A long weekend was approaching and the weather was being distinctly uncooperative.  At least it was being distinctly uncooperative if you had planned to go out over the weekend.  For those of us whose plans extended more in a lying languidly on a couch direction it wasn't bad at all.  So why the disapproval in my stare?  If the weather was poor none of my flatmates would go out either and I would be stuck with them all weekend.  I extended my stare of disfavour to the platypus.

"Surely you enjoy weather like this?  Shouldn't you be paddling down a stream somewhere?"

"Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I withdraw my question."

"I hate weather like this," said the plague doctor.  "Do you know how difficult it is to get bat guano ash when the damn stuff won't catch fire?"

"I'm getting increasingly uncertain about putting you in charge of my recovery," I noted.

"Nonsense, your humours have never been so well balanced.  And your black bile is way down."

"What does that have to do with cancer?"

"It's good news whatever star sign you are?"

"And I'm getting pretty sick of all the leeches."

"Have you tried them with garlic?" asked the spider.

"What are you even doing here?  I thought you were nocturnal."

"I am, this is just a late night."

"It's 2pm in the afternoon."

"Okay a very late night."

"Where's the puffin, I'll be he'd enjoy this weather."

"He's passed out on the kitchen floor in a pool of cleaning fluid," replied the spider.

"Oh god, has he ODed again?"

"No, he slipped on it and banged his head."

"I didn't hear anything, when did that happen?"

"Tuesday."

"Should we go and see if he's all right?"

A brief vote was taken.  An objection was lodged, a recount was made, an amendment to our constitution suggested and a threat of bloody insurrection was defused.  Eventually we approached the kitchen.  The puffin was had recovered consciousness but was suffering from dizzy spells, wild mood swings, hallucinations and fits of paranoia.

"He needs psychiatric help," I muttered.

"He needs bleeding," countered the plague doctor.

"If all that meant you needed psychiatric help you would have been committed years ago," pointed out the platypus a little unnecessarily in my opinion.

"My mental state is just fine," responded with dignity.

"Brave words from a man conducting a conversation with a bunch of plush toys," retorted the puffin.  I began regretting coming to see if he was all right.  I took charge.

"Right you lot.  I'm sick of being cooped up here with you.  I want you all out of here for the weekend.  I don't care where you go or what you do but I don't want to see you before Tuesday."  I looked around to find that I had been addressing an empty room.  The spider was curled up on my pillow asleep and the platypus and the plague doctor were in the lounge room arguing over the TV remote.  Bizarrely since neither of them knew how to use it.  The puffin was on the phone to his dealer trying to trade his body for a box of Omo.  I gave up, besides it was almost time for my latest dose of leeches.  Perhaps I would try them with garlic this time.

Travelling Pathetically - North Head Edition

 Normally I go on my bushwalks alone.  This isn't due to some manic streak of isolationism, rather its due to the fact that the only person I know who periodically hurls herself at the great outdoors for fun happens to live in Tasmania.  Or so I thought.  As it happens two of my more geographically convenient friends also enjoy a wander through the bush.  After approximately eighteen months of coordination attempts we finally agreed to meet yesterday and walk around the Manly dam area.  A barbecue was promised to the survivors.

One of my friends lives in Freshwater (note for the elderly, Freshwater is what Harbord calls itself now that the property values have risen) which was a convenient jumping off point so we turned up for a couple of hours traipsing amongst trees.  Sadly upon arrival we were informed that the track around Manly dam was so waterlogged that we would need a boat so it was decided to walk around North Head instead.  I also learned that there was a definite time limit attached to the walk as there were various football games this afternoon which were the real reason for the barbecue.  I pointed out I wasn't interested in football, they pointed out they would happily abandon me to the elements if I didn't keep up.

Speaking of elements they were providing a much better reason to wrap the walking up as quickly as possible.  A grey sky was rapidly turning to black and rain threatened.  Since this walk involves two other people I feel obliged to introduce them as quickly as possible.  They say a person can be judged by the quality of his friends so without further ado permit me to introduce a semi retired merchant banker and borderline psychopath (that is he's standing just over the border looking back) and a property developer who lives up to the standards of ethics and integrity one would expect of someone in his profession.  

I rarely bushwalk with others and it rapidly became obvious why.  The moaning, carping and complaining were outrageous.  Frankly I don't know how they put up with me.  With leaden skies above and a moisture laden wind promising to rapidly become more moisture than wind we set off.  Almost immediately I stopped to take a photo.

 

The photo I stopped to take

When I looked around after taking the aforementioned photo I realised I was alone.  Catching up with my friends I mentioned that I liked to stop to take photos from time to time.  They replied that they didn't.  In fact the presence of my camera was greeted with something akin to disbelief.  Didn't I have a phone?  Why was I taking photos?  Do I do that sort of thing often?  At this point its probably worth pointing out that they never read this blog which is why I feel completely comfortable in trashing their reputation with the descriptions I provided above.

We continued climbing up to the top of North Head at a pace it must be admitted that was faster than I'm used to.  My friends essentially bushwalk for reasons of fitness and probably would be just as happy walking through a housing estate.  Nevertheless the property developer made an effort to point out things he thought would be of interest to me such as the abandoned gun emplacements and the convict built wall which date from North Head's time as a military installation.

A convict built wall, probably

The long history of a military presence is the reason why we still have such a generous chunk of semi undisturbed bushland so close to Sydney.  Even the most enthusiastic property developer will have difficulty selling houses sitting under a rain of artillery shells.  Now the military have left and somehow a conservation group managed to get in before anybody else noticed.  They now protect and reintroduce native wildlife that had previously been eradicated from the area.  Despite this noble work the most visible sign of their presence is references to an animal they are eagerly trying to deintroduce.  Signs everywhere warn of traps, baits and other methods of attempting to rid the area of foxes.  They must be having some success, I didn't see a single fox on the entire walk.

The day, as noted, was grey and heading towards rain (quite rapidly as it happened) which was the ideal weather for the terrain.  This wasn't an area of tall standing trees but rather scrub, bush, low trees and quite a lot of water.  Hanging swamps abounded (walkways had been thoughtfully placed so that we didn't get our shoes wet although one suspects they're trying to protect the swamp more than us) and a general air of bleak desolation (of which I am quite fond) abounded.

There is very little to stop the water falling into the sea

Of course no area is so desolate that it isn't habit for the occasional brush turkey.  I'm becoming more and more fond of these birds.  They are rapidly becoming the new ibis.  One considerately posed for a photo but turned its security on me when I asked for an autograph.

A brush turkey and, surrounding it, brush

I fled the brush turkey's security which at least enabled me to catch up with my companions who had as usual steamed ahead.  Of course context is everything.  If either of them had a blog they would no doubt be recounting tales of a vigorous walk spoiled by a whiny laggard sniveling and stopping to take photos of fungus.  Speaking of fungus...

The Clare McIntyre memorial fungus

Now that we had reached something like the top of North Head a terrain of grasses, weeds, stubby bushes and glistening water stretched out before us.  Something else that stretched out before us was the metal grating we were obviously expected to walk on.  I trotted along behind my, well companions isn't quite the right word at this point.  We came to a spot where the metal grating had sunk into the swamp and a second metal grating had been dropped on top of it.  This excited more interest from my comp... associates than any of the scenery or surrounding views as they discussed whether it was cheaper to simply drop another grating on top of the original as opposed to taking the first one away.  I took the opportunity to gasp for breath and photograph something more interesting, pretty much anything in fact (although I did include some grating for the sake of balance).

Swamp with added grating

On one of the more solid pieces of ground we examined a gun position which had once housed a 9.4 inch artillery piece but doesn't anymore.  Others were examining it too and one of those had a takeaway coffee cup in his hand.  Politely I asked where he got the coffee and was directed to a small restaurant about ten minutes down the road.  There was much eye rolling but eventually my friends agreed that I would be slightly less irritating if I wasn't crazed with caffeine withdrawal and we popped in for a coffee.  At least I did.  I was the only one with any money, I asked if they wanted anything and was greeted with a chorus of refusals that lasted until I had paid for my coffee at which point they changed their minds.  A cinnamon scroll was divided between the three of us (yes, I'm cheap) and we headed back to the grey outdoors.

Music assailed us as we headed forth and we proceeded in some confusion until we reached a fenced off area from which the aforementioned aural assault emanated.  Within the fencing were rows of chairs already damp and soon to be totally soaked and a stage.  There were no performers on the stage and no audience although the music indicated that preparations were being made for both.  The property developer seemed keen to chat with an individual who came out to talk to us so myself and the merchant banker headed off in disgust until we remembered that he was the only one who knew which way we were supposed to be going.  Reluctantly we waited for him to rejoin us and then continued on our somewhat disfunctional way.

Soon we were back among hanging swamps and I was happy.  I was also conducting a low grade mutiny by maliciously pausing to take photos of things.  This would have worked better as a protest if it had caused the others to slow down even slightly.

More swamp

 As it was we were wrapping up our walk, the property developer having essentially led us in a huge loop back towards the carpark where we had begun.  Along the way I took photos of flowers.  I justify this by saying I would have done so anyway.

Flower, or possibly an eyestalk

More flowers

And one more fungus to be good on

With the carpark achieved we got into the car literally thirty seconds before it started pouring down with rain.  The others exuded an air of smug justification while I just sat and muttered under my breath.  In my defence I probably would have been doing that anyway.

Silly After Action Report - The Cost of Non-Compliance

 Hauptmann Gerhard von Glockenspiel wiped the sweat from his brow and watched as elements of the division settled into clutches of houses.  Beside him the crew of a 105mm artillery piece prepared a hasty emplacement.  The last few days had been a whirlwind of fighting, advancing and more fighting.  Von Glockenspiel was exhausted and things weren't helped by the presence of Leutnant Schrecklich who seemed to spend every waking moment giving a running commentary on the shortcomings of the Soviet Union and how worthless their army was.  He was at it again now, his nasal voice whining through the air like a bullet gratuitously informing such soldiers who had been unable to escape of the ineptitude of their opponent.  Suddenly the irritating voice took on a note of triumph which only served to make it more unbearable.

"See what did I tell you?" crowed Schrecklich.  "Look at those clowns, they're retreating in completely the wrong direction."

Von Glockenspiel turned to the gun crew. 

"Got any armour piercing for that piece?"

"A few crates arrived yesterday."

"Dust them off."

Reluctantly he joined Schrecklich at his vantage point on the hill.  The leutnant was chortling at the waves of infantry and armour rushing towards them.

"What idiots, they can't know we're here." 

"Well when they arrive be sure to give them directions."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm just going for tinkle," replied von Glockenspiel.

Given my somewhat dubious tank skills I wanted to play an armour heavy scenario and came up with this one WO22 - The Cost of Non-Compliance.  Here a rather powerful force of Soviets are counterattacking the 11th Panzer in the early days of Operation Barbarossa.  Dave took command of the Soviets attacking against their better judgment on the "suggestion" of their political commissars.  I would lead elements of the 11th Panzer unexpectedly on the defensive.  ROAR has this one as somewhat pro-German so we gave the Soviets the balance (an extra T34-M41) and I set about preparing a defense.

To win the Soviets have to control at least five stone buildings on board 76 while having more mobile AFV with functioning main armament than the Germans.  Each extra stone building above five counts as one such AFV for the victory conditions.  It has to be admitted that I misread the victory conditions completely overlooking that second sentence.  Apparently thirty years experience playing this game has done nothing for my attention to detail.

Barrelling forward on the attack Dave has thirteen tanks (two KV-1s, three T-34s and a collection of lesser vehicles) plus fourteen first line infantry squads equipped with five lmgs and led by three officers.  Standing somewhat incompetently on the defence I have eight first line squads also led by three officers with an mmg, three light machine guns a pair of antitank rifles and a 50mm mortar.  To take on the tanks I have two 37mm antitank guns (handy against the light Soviet armour but virtually useless against the KV-1s and T-34s) and a single 105mm artillery piece.  Additionally I have a PzIIIF and a PzIIF both of which have similar issues taking on the Soviet beasts.  On turn three I get an additional four tanks as reinforcements; three more PzIIIs and an early model PzIV.

At start

Above is the at start set up.  The 105 is of course on the hill on the left where it can cover the whole battlefield.  The mortar is right behind it with a couple of squads with the mmg and my best leader in the buildings nearby.  Over on the right I have set up the rest of my infantry based mainly around another clutch of buildings with a 37mm gun in one of the buildings and my PzIII hunkered down behind a hedge trying to look small.  The other 37mm gun is hidden in the centre grainfield.  Basically I have set up two strong points which are capable of taking the centre under fire should Dave choose to go that way.  I intended to defend for a turn or two and then fall back to the victory locations.  Things didn't really go to plan.  Dave weighted virtually his entire force to the right and rushed forward to close with my guys who should really have run for their lives at the first sight of them.

Dave's force headed towards the right and centre while only token forces attacked on the left.  My 105 gained a shock result on a KV-1 that was the backbone of these "token" forces while over on the right things went very rapidly from bad to worse.  With T34s leading to shield his thinner skinned vehicles Dave armoured assaulted his infantry forward and was very rapidly threatening my forces in the buildings.  Fire from antitank rifles and my PzIII didn't manage to achieve any results and soon I had a vast force of infantry and armour up in my face.

End of Soviet turn 1

Two platoons of tanks were threatening my right while a third platoon was rolling up through the centre.  Over on the left I had things well in hand and I hoped I might be able to hang on for a while on the right.  Technically I suppose I did.  In my turn a combination of machine gun and mortar fire managed to carve up most of his infantry on the left and allowed me to pull back some of the troops there in the direction of the town.  At least part of the fall back defence was working.  In an act of staggering recklessness I rolled my PzII down off the hill and hoping and praying that the KV-1 wouldn't recover I started to menace (for a generous definition of the term) the rear of his forces on the left.  On the right my PzIII went up in flames serving to effectively blind some of my defenders while my AT gun in the grain revealed himself but achieved nothing.  His day was coming however.

End of German turn 1.  Believe it or not the PzII would survive until the end of the game

Turn two saw a spectacular flurry of action.  The shocked KV-1 on the left recovered but rather than reduce the reckless PzII to scrap it passed its independent movement die roll to join its companions a little further forward which was convenient as my 105 managed to destroy one of the T-26 tanks that had been lurking around taking potshots at it while my mmg team and mortar managed to break most of the accompanying infantry.

Over on the right saw a flurry of activity as well as Dave pushed forward using his tanks and the newly created smoke from a burning PzIII to provide him with some cover.  In fact he didn't just push forward, he swung a platoon of tanks around to the right under the muzzle of my antitank gun which proved incapable of hitting anything before it was forced to concentrate on milling hordes of infantry.  A moment of delight came when a T-34 rolled past a concealed squad and I managed to street fight it into immobility.

In the centre my other 37mm had its moment of glory when it went on a mini rate tear and took out two light tanks leaving the leading KV-1 alone.  Undaunted that tank rolled on over my 37mm which would take no further part in proceedings.  On the right though were the seeds of my undoing.  He had managed to move a couple of tank platoons past my defences and in the next turns would slip some infantry past as well.  The surviving defenders would acquit themselves well taking out a tank and a couple of squads in a melee that raged for several turns but the takeaway was that none of my troops on the right would escape back to defend the town.  The path lay open for Dave and his remaining infantry.

Dave has taken losses but the seeds of my defeat have been sown

Although it wasn't immediately apparent I was well on the way to losing the scenario (I would say "spoiler alert" but you probably guessed that before you started reading).  I must confess I was focussed on killing his armour and was also slightly insane.  At least that is the best explanation I can come up with for what I did with my PzII.  For reasons best explained by my therapist ("You're an imbecile") I rolled that inoffensive little tank up directly behind his leftmost platoon which, may I remind you included a KV-1 now returned to full operational status.  I'm not sure what I was thinking and even if I did know I doubt it would help.  To make matters (admittedly only slightly) worse the crew from one of his destroyed tanks attacked the PzII in close combat fortunately to no avail.

A brief moment of glory for my 37mm crew before being crushed by a KV-1

Fortunately for me the KV-1 was engaged in a duel with my 105mm which continued with a complete lack of harm on both sides until the KV-1 broke its MA.  Over on the right Dave committed three squads and a tank to take out my gun crew in the building (now bolstered by my remaining squad and an 8-1 leader) while the rest skirted the fracas and headed for the town.  My stay behinds were true heroes.  Over the course of the next couple of turns they would destroy the tank and all three Soviet squads but by the time they were finished it was the back end of turn five and Dave's remaining infantry were swarming all over the town.

The melee on the right would continue for the rest of the game.

With the objective in sight Dave filtered his troops into the town.  Since I only had a pair of squads to oppose him that wasn't terribly difficult.  Bringing up his remaining armour in support cost him casualties including a KV-1 knocked out by a critical hit from the 105 but enabled him to hide the survivors behind buildings.  I had comfortably won the armour duel (mainly by hiding my reinforcing tanks where he couldn't see them) but it availed for naught as Dave's remaining troops swiftly occupied much valuable real estate in the town and my skimpy infantry could do little to stop them.  It isn't entirely true to say I lost the game due to my misreading of the victory conditions.  I lost the game when half my infantry force was trapped and either killed or otherwise occupied on the right side of the battlefield meaning I couldn't adequately garrison the town.  Facing only a pair of squads meant that Dave could sneak into buildings out of my line of sight.  The only reason it took so long is because Dave misread the victory conditions as well and thought he needed far more buildings than he did.

Endgame, Dave has three fully functional AFVs to my four but has a plethora of buildings

Despite various rule reading cock ups both Dave and I enjoyed this game.  It's supposed to be unbalanced on ROAR but giving the extra tank to the Soviets seems to even it up nicely although it probably helps if the Germans are commanded by an idiot.  Many thanks to Dave for the game I shall try, and probably fail, to gain revenge in our next game.

Von Glockenspiel raised his eyes above the windowsill and looked around cautiously.  Wrecked tanks dotted the landscape but the Soviet troops were busy cleaning out a few pockets of resistance in the town and had little time for bypassed survivors.  Tragically leutnant Schrecklich had survived the battle as well although he didn't seem to be in great shape.  Rocking back and forward he was muttering, 

"But they were retreating," over and over again.

"Sure," replied von Glockenspiel.  "If they retreat any further they'll find themselves in Berlin."

Vindication!!!

 They said I was mad.  They said I was deluded.  They said I was a wretched good for nothing degenerate who was an embarrassment to my family in particular and the human race in general.  To be fair it was only my self esteem counselor who said that.  I'm thinking of getting rid of him but every time I broach the subject he threatens suicide.  Now however I can laugh at such criticism, albeit with a touch of hysteria, for my orchid has flowered.

Several years ago during one of the periodic location reshuffles my firm undergoes to maintain a healthy sense of uncertainty and dread amongst its employees we were presented with small flowering orchids as a sort of "welcome to your new home until the next reshuffle" gift.  Time passed and so did most of the orchids.  My orchid however clung to life like an octopus with a muscle spasm.  Despite neglect, recycled air, lack of direct sunlight and frequent swearing it survived and when the small pot it was provided with proved inadequate it extruded tentacles that are now in serious danger of taking over my entire workspace.  In short it gave every evidence of being determined to survive except one.  It was flowering when I got it but since that time it has not flowered since.  

It actually looks like an octopus wearing a wreath

 

I obediently followed the care guide which was provided with the orchid (it consisted of "water occasionally") and I was pleased to see that the orchid repaid me by not dying.  However flowers were there none.  Eventually as the years rolled by I stopped expecting flowers and took what comfort I could from the fact that the plant was starting to look more and more like the face hugger creature from Alien.

Roots (at least I presume they're roots) exploded out of the small pot and made their way along my workstation.  I can't help wondering if this is one of those orchids that normally clings to trees rather than growing in the ground.  I should repot the thing I suppose but I'm terrified of moving it in case I break whatever magic keeps it clinging to life.  If nothing else it encourages me not to fall asleep at my desk as I'm afraid I'll wake covered in roots with the orchid sucking the life out of me.  My employers would probably hope there are other reasons why I wouldn't fall asleep at my desk but whatever works I say.

This is actually a different photo

 

Purple white flowers now adorn what was in truth a rather battered looking orchid and a series of buds promise more on the way.  Little work has been achieved in our team over the last fortnight or so as I insist on demanding that everybody who passes pay homage to the orchid (and indirectly myself for my amazing care).  I like to think of it as a team building exercise.  Certainly all of my colleagues are united in increasingly desperate attempts to get me to shut up about the damned orchid already.

The same orchid from a different angle

 

I doubt if I will ever get to Nero Wolfe standards of orchid rearing, not least because I don't intend to try but I have to confess I am quite ridiculously pleased about the fact that it appears to be not only surviving but in a somewhat disheveled way actually thriving.  So pleased in fact that I wrote an entire blog entry about it.