EMU AIRWAYS

                              A Small Plane

     When I walked into the small airport on Kangaroo Island, Australia all I could see was tarmac with small planes. Immediately I realized we and our backpacks  were going to 
 be weighed  before boarding the plane. It was not my first such experience of being weighed before a flight. Midway was a long 1250 miles over water from Kauai, where the Australian mainland was really pretty much a hop, skip and a jump away, so I could reassure some in our small group  who had never experienced the process of being weighed.

     Looking out the airport window I saw little planes with EMU written on their tails. Turning I heard one of the gals say, “Who would ever name an airline after a flightless bird?” Interesting thought.

     A couple of pilots surveyed our group of 11, divided us in half and led us out to the planes. The biggest and heaviest man in the group was seated in the front co-pilot seat of my plane.  The pilot took our packs and stuffed them in the wing tips. I was happy to see him lock the compartments—not that there was anything of much value in my pack as my camera was in my pocket.

     Once the rest of us were seated and buckled up, I was a bit astounded to watch the plot climb over the wing and through the window to his seat.  Did I really want to take this flight? It would be a lot quicker than the rough ferry crossing but still----.

     Much of the short flight was about the clouds. When the clouds parted I looked down at the water where the waves looked like wiggly little viruses look under a microscope. Once over land the sheep in the pasture looked like golf balls.

     The short flight was a smooth one but I was still happy to be on land where our driver was waiting to take us back to the hotel. Fog still covered Mt Lofty. Our hotel was lovely and we’d had a great day and wonderful time  on a clear day on Kangaroo Island!

SOLITARY CONFINEMENT

                                             A Scary Room

 Port Arthur, Tasmania, Australia, operated 47-years (1830-1877) as a prison and never was a town. On the way to Port Arthur we rode through rolling hills and farmland passing by Barilla Bay, famous for its oysters. Stopping at the Tasmania Devil Park I saw and learned all about the small, black, rather ugly Tasmanian Devil.

     Port Arthur, located on the isolated Tasman Peninsula, was just as much a natural prison as Alcatraz was in this country. Surrounded by hungry sharks, the peninsula is connected to the mainland only by  100-yard wide Eagleneck Neck. Guarded by chained angry dogs it made escape nearly impossible. All deliveries to the prison were made by boat as the road overland from Hobart, the capitol, was not built until 1893.

     Of the 73,000 English convicts sent to Australia, 12,500 of the worst offenders were sent to Port Arthur. Originally established as a timber settlement there were no permanent buildings for three years. Although the conditions at Port Arthur were brutal, the prison was progressive. All convicts were gainfully employed in one of 47 trades.  Young boys were required to attend school at a time before education was mandatory.

     Whipping punishment in front of the entire prison complement was replaced with solitary confinement.  The small windowless concrete walled room was  totally dark. The approximate  

6 X 6 –foot room left little space even for exercise. Claustrophobic me took my turn entering the room. It wasn’t ten seconds after the door was shut that I was yelling, “Open the door NOW and let me out.”  It wouldn’t take long to go mad, and so many prisoners actually did that a psychiatric building had to be built.

    Today the whole area is peaceful.  The visit was very interesting, but the solitary confinement was dark and scary indeed.  What would those walls say if they could talk?