H Is For Highway

Gee, Dad Found His Own Way In The Outback

Photographs copyright: DAVID McMAHON

See, it’s perfectly logical. I used to get lost. Not because I am a bad driver, but simply because my aptitude for navigation does not always, ahem, match my driving skills.

So when Mrs Authorblog presented me with a GPS last year, the gods in every religious pantheon breathed a sigh of relief and said: "Right, we don’t need to worry about him getting lost – ever again. "

The GPS was great fun. I hooked it up even if we were driving to the shops, just for the novelty of hearing a disembodied voice actually telling me when to turn, which direction to turn, and how long it would be before my next cross-street. I reckoned I had found Nirvana.

When we flew interstate in January this year, it was the first thing I packed. As soon as we stepped off the plane in Perth, capital of Western Australia, I proudly marched up to the rental car desk, claimed my big Camry, opened the driver’s door in the sweltering heat and even before I turned the aircon on, I connected the GPS and put in the co-ordinates for the Sheraton.

Piece of cake. Never been to Perth before, but I drove with as much confidence as locals who had spent all their lives there.

But a couple of weeks later, I blotted my copybook. Just when the family figured I would never get lost again, I did. Yes, the GPS was operating and I turned left when it told me to turn right. You could just about hear the GPS clicking its imaginary tongue and intoning gravely: "This bloke’s a moron. "

But I recently drove a 1200-kilometre round trip up the bush, into neighbouring New South Wales, to the beautiful little Riverina town of Temora. I was on my own, without the family for the first time in clan history, because it was just a quick in-and-out trip for research purposes. But I reckon Mrs Authorblog and the Authorbloglets were placing wagers on how soon it would take me to get lost.

I left on schedule, arrived at my destination on schedule, drove around the town without any dramas and then drove back to Melbourne on schedule. No big deal?

Mate, I did it all without the GPS. Yes, I had it with me in the car, but I never once turned it on.

Just one word of warning. Next time you see me, don’t tell me "Get lost" – because I probably will, literally and metaphorically.


For the home of ABC Wednesday, go to Mrs Nesbitt's Place.

Verse And Worse

Random Wit, Errant Rhyme. Not A Literary Crime

When intrepid Pastor Farley
Went Outback on a Harley
He said I should do the sermon
With the old parishioners squirmin'

Z Is For Zoom

They Zoom Overhead, And We Zoom In As They Fly

Photographs copyright: DAVID McMAHON

It's not often you have the privilege of photographing one of the most iconic fighter aircraft in aviation history - but as some of you would remember, about six weeks ago I drove 1200 kilometres for the chance to shoot some images of Spitfires at the Temora Aviation Museum.

The Museum has the only two airworthy Spitfires in Australia and while there are always some amazing photo opportunities in the Outback, this was one rare photo shoot I wasn't going to miss for anything.


The first image, of the Spitfire Mark XVI climbing into the sky over Temora, was taken with a 70-300mm zoom lens. I was in the stands with hundreds of others and I shot an entire series of images as the fighter started its takeoff, the tail came up and finally the aircraft became airborne.

The first image in this sequence, shot without a tripod, shows the distinctive undercarriage retracting into the wheel wells in each wing.

The second image (above) shows the Spitfire in tandem with another World War II-vintage fighter, the US-built Curtiss P-40 Kittyhawk.


This shot (above) shows the clean shape of the Spitfire's distinctive (and famous) eliptical wing, which was inspired by the late Reginald Mitchell's observation of seagulls and their wing shape. In the shot you can actually see the fighter's original 20mm Hispano cannon, the distinctive scoop or air intake under the fuselage, as well as its angled tailwheel.


And when a Spitfire, flying inverted, reaches the topmost point of a loop, several hundred metres above you, there is one other thing you must remember to do as you watch and admire the beauty of its performance. You have to remember to press the shutter on your camera.


If you missed my earlier series of Spitfire images at Temora, you can see them at W Is For Warbirds.

It's fitting that these images were shot on 6 June, which as you would know is the 65th anniversary of the Normandy landings. There is a very neat symmetry in being able to shoot these images on such a historic day.

And yes, I'd drive 1200 kilometres again, to capture images of this aircraft in flight. Wouldn't you?

For the home of ABC Wednesday, go to Mrs Nesbitt's Place.

Verse And Worse

Random Wit, Errant Rhyme. Not A Literary Crime

In the bracing cold of an Outback winter
The teacher, Miss Jessie, sat on a splinter
But worse was to come when she saddled her horse
She signalled her agony to us using Morse