Perceptions from Deception

The view from the lodge at dawn was impressive but, as in many things on this island, somewhat deceptive. 

Some of you may remember that I checked into the Dr No Lodge on Deception Island about this time last year, following a call from my company's Far North Queensland regional manager to pop up there from my Brisbane base and carry out an audit.  Well it transpires that the warning I got from the taxi driver, who dropped me off at the gate of this rather small but adequate, former hunting lodge, was quite prophetic, being that "A little 'No Lodge' is a dangerous thing!" Little did I realise that I'd still be stuck on this tropical outpost some 12 months later, with no way of getting off, and with the outside world passing me by, sentenced to imposed quarantine along with a dwindling two thousand or so others, mostly residents, a few visitors and the odd backpacker. 

It all started when I woke up on my second day on the island.  The lodge, which the previous evening had been staffed by a few maintenance and catering locals, was deathly quiet.  I quickly showered and went down to the breakfast room, which was deserted, apart from a table set for one. My eye was immediately drawn to a 9mm self-loading pistol in the centre, casually set between the cutlery and the condiments.

I thought it over and then decided to stow the pistol in my shoulder bag, after checking that it was loaded and hadn't been fired. I didn't want to leave it where it was, next to a rather oversized salt shaker, and risk the possibility of 'a salt with a deadly weapon'.

I looked around hoping for some muesli or juice, or even a loaf of bread to make toast. I checked the fridge and pantry, but both were empty.  There was a jar of coffee beans sitting on the worktop next to the cooktop, but I wasn't game to make coffee with them.  The label implied they had been there for way too long. It clearly stated 'has-beans'.  

No Kellogs Cornflakes, Weet-Bix or Nutri-Grain either. The pistol on the table should have warned me, had I been fully awake, that there was a 'cereal killer' on the loose.

All I could find was an assortment of herbs and spices.  After looking at the 'thyme' I decided I needed to forget breakfast and get going.  I later found out that food supplies had been running low, with most shelves on the local supermarkets empty, due to a recent pandemic (more on that later).  It was everyone for themselves and I later found out that the lodge staff and occupants had taken everything worth eating last night.

I picked up my work gear and raced out the front door. It was then I noticed that dark red paint had been splashed everywhere ... across the door, walls and driveway.  We had been 'marooned' on this island!  But then, prompted by squawking, I looked skyward and ... 

... instantly reminded myself that this was another day in 'parrot-dise'.  I'd quite forgotten, 'apparrotly', how many beautiful birds there are here in FNQ. 

Luckily I still had the card that Frank, my taxi driver from the day before, had left with me, and so I called him to pick me up.  Half an hour later he arrived and I jumped into his Toyota Prada, which still had the Uber sign on the back window from his recent mainland dalliance with this famous taxi competitor. He'd had time to spray the insect infestation in the boot (trunk for my US friends) and so his 'ex-uber-ants' of the day before was somewhat dampened.

At first I couldn't sort out my seat belt ... then it clicked. Unlike yesterday's trip from the jetty area to the lodge, we now drove through a semi rural part of the island, with clusters of small houses by the side of the road.  We had to take a detour, however, as heavy rain and associated severe run-off from the recent storm (mentioned in my previous post) had removed a bridge on the most direct route.  I still 'can't get over it'.  

As we drove along the detour, I could see that the rows of closely spaced houses had all sorts of vehicles parked in their front yards, also along the edge of the road, and even in vacant land behind the houses. I don't believe I'd ever seen so many cars at a standstill and so close together before, except back when the Spice Girls came to perform at the Sydney Opera house and all the males on the north side tried to drive across the Harbour Bridge at the same time.

Frank explained that the spread of automobiles, particularly in this part of the island, was a relatively recent phenomenon.  Furthermore, he advised me that this region had been settled, way back, by a few different nationalities, and indeed we soon passed by a Norwegian lady's house.  Frank explained she had formerly worked in the red light district of Oslo before coming to Deception.  That would explain the three or four 'Fjord Escorts' parked outside.   Then there was the Spaniard's house, which stood 'olé' on its own. This was the only yard along this stretch of road that didn't have vehicles parked in it.  It appears that thieves had recently visited the house of 'Carlos'.

Being on an island, a reliable source of fuel was an ongoing problem, especially since so many islanders had seemingly recently developed such an avid passion for buying so many cars. It would also explain why there were so many 'Ford Siestas' not going anywhere.

Frank pointed out a large multi-unit complex with heaps of Volkswagens parked in every available space.  It was, apparently, an 'old Volks home'. You couldn't, however, fault the parking.

We then passed by a large building with a number of American fuel-guzzler vehicles parked outside. The aroma of food was killing me as we approached, reminding me that I hadn't had any breakfast.  These cars were all 'Chef-rolets'.

We still had a few minutes or so before we would arrive at the site office and so Frank took some time to explain something of the local wildlife, which is apparently also smitten by a love of automobiles.  As we took a short-cut down Snake Drive this would explain the abundance of 'Ana-Hondas' by the road, each with a swarm of 'windscreen-vipers' on display.

Frank also explained that, before moving back to Deception Island, he had tried his hand at selling cars on the mainland.  He had even picked up a qualification as a 'car-deal-ologist' but hadn't really gotten any mileage out of it. His heart just wasn't in it.

Shortly after I arrived at the site office, it became apparent that things were other than perfect. The one sole occupant, a nervous and rather apologetic maintenance man called Benny, explained that most of our staff members had gone home to try and gather food for themselves and their families, as there had been a run on the few supermarkets located on the island.  It wasn't helped by the fact that many of them (staff not supermarkets) were apparently vegetarian, although Benny was of the opinion that this was a 'missed-steak'.

It looked like I'd have to spend another night or two on Deception Island.  By now, the pervading atmosphere of foreboding, propagating towards alarm, was beginning to catch up with me, which is strange in hindsight, as the prospect of sleeping on a tropical island would be a 'dream job' for many.

On the way back to my lodgings later that day, I picked up a hurriedly prepared takeaway from a strangely unique little Mexican cafe called 'Juan in a Million' and a coffee from an equally strange pit stop called 'Brewed Awakening'.  The latter subliminal advice started to nag. 

And so, on a full stomach that evening, I started to mull the day's events over in my mind, although my thought processes were being progressively highjacked by amazingly weird and very real images of a whole range of automobiles. I fell into a deep sleep and distinctly remember dreaming of numerous and ridiculous, but very real events, such as ... 

• sick dogs being chased by 'CorVETS'; 
• driving down long stretches of winding roads with series after series of 'Mercedes bends';
• Toyotas being driven by pigs, 'hogging the road'; 

• little furry marsupials in Range Rovers, but all 'koala-fied' to drive; and then
• a series of brand new Apple Mackintosh cars, all without 'Windows'.

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And so it seems that another year has passed with me now being totally and absolutely cut off from the outside world on Deception Island, with so many burning questions to answer, including the following:  

• When will this virus run its course and the island return to abnormality? 
• How many bad jokes and puns is it possible to squeeze into one post?
• Did anybody read the first part of this post at this link  Deception-Island  , and why wasn't that enough 'pun-ishment' to prevent you from reading this part?
• Has Boddie published this post again on 'All Fool's Day'?

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http://ken-boddie.squarespace.com

The author of the above, Ken Boddie, besides being a sometime poet and occasional writer, is an enthusiastic photographer, rarely leisure-travelling without his Canon, and loves to interact with other like-minded people with diverse interests.

Ken's three day work week (part time commitment) as a consulting engineer allows him to follow his photography interests, and to plan trips to an ever increasing list of countries and places of scenic beauty and cultural diversity.