Regional parks 

Regional parks are not a "new phenomenon" [see NPJ Oct & Dec]. They were created two years after the first national park in the world at Yellowstone in the United States of America. These were in the Lakes District in England. Sadly, the English called them "national parks" in order to keep up with the American "Joneses". On the continent of Europe they were termed regional parks and 36 nations have created them.

Basically a regional park is where a national government places a "conservation umbrella" over where people live and work. These are places of great beauty, where humans have added to what nature provided. The Lakes District was the first, and includes cities of thousands of people, farms, plantations, heather-clad mountains, great walking country with many marked tracks, mines and all the other activities of a normal English countryside.

Australia’s Great Barrier Reef is the world’s largest marine "regional park". The Shark Bay World Heritage area is another such park.

The Wild Life Preservation Society of Australia pioneered the idea thirty years ago, but in Australia – at the request of the then national park director – took no further action until the States had created enough national parks. We are rapidly approaching that happy state, so the regional park is the way to go.

4WD treatment 

Having worn down much tooth enamel at the sight of 4WDs in national parks, I offer the following thoughts.

Amazingly, 4-wheel drivers see themselves as being on a direct line to the pioneers, to explorers such as Burke and Wills and the Man from Snowy River (something the people at the ad agencies have been eager to exploit).

Safe in their vehicles, their fantasy is that they are facing the Australian bush at its rawest. Jaws clenched, these hard, taciturn men nonchalantly look danger in the eye and ask for no quarter.

Occasionally reality seeps through and a little insecurity, too. Some acknowledgment from passing walkers who have more cred would be good.

Hence the following suggestion:

Next time you are overtaken on a track by wheeled warriors, try turning your backs on them in silence, no eye contact, no nodding. The reaction can be spectacular. At the very least you will have increased your scatological vocab.

Women the despoilers 

Karen Alexander’s article in the December issue of the Journal "As a man I am expected to …" seems more of an excuse to vent her problems with men. She goes on about the glass ceiling as if she were still in the fifties. However, I’d pay more attention if she acknowledged the very real glass cellar for men, and I’d pay a lot more attention if she were asking for equality in suicide, health, education and employment.

Also, Karen shouldn’t mislead about volunteers. Work done is roughly equal between men and women, which is surprising as men generally have full-time jobs and much of volunteer work may be seen as simply a part of parenting.

But the worst of Karen’s misandry comes in her final paragraph: "If we were to ‘feminise’ our culture perhaps the need to build dams and cut down trees would be reduced." Well, you may be right in that it is men who build civilisations and they always have, but the needless destruction of the environment comes with needless consumption and the spending of money, and women spend 85% of it. Go to any shopping centre and look at the directory. Count the women’s shops. As for the others, most of their trade is with women; two-thirds of shoes sold are women’s shoes. At the supermarket they’ve an entire aisle of dedicated products. All this stuff ends up in the op shops – go there and see the amount of floor space given to selling women’s clothing. Selling clothing to other women, who presumably also have ample. Conversely, it’s difficult even to find a pair of men’s cozzies.

Most of the article was just more of "we’re so hardly done by" twaddle, meanwhile self-indulgent spending continues to degrade what’s left of our exhausted planet. Women must accept their responsibility for needless degradation of the environment. "Feminise our culture" indeed!

And now Karen blames dams and logging on men. Karen, are you one of those ecofeminists who support family allowances and single-parent pensions? The planet now has six billion people. When it’s seven billion we will have less environment. The government spends billions each year encouraging us to have more children and, make no mistake, the more people we have, the less environment we have.

Karen’s article is typical of the malaise which surrounds the environment movement today; unable to seize the issues or the public’s imagination. We know there will fewer trees next year, and less the year after that, yet the environment movement remains wedded to increased welfare and child support.

The sooner women become satisfied with their affluence and longevity – being the major recipients of welfare, unaffected by destitution or homelessness – instead of going on like spoilt teenagers, the sooner they might be able to address the character defects that let them use self-indulgence, as addicts use substances.

Roadside litter – Coke bottles and cartons,

worn dustbowl where cars park

next to arsenated fence-posts,

a table scratched with hearts and scars,

paint flakes and dung heaps.

At the far end, a thick green track

laced with spider-webs & dandelions

slinks toward old grey gums

staggering over the river’s clear water.

Nor froth or filth is tumbling from catchment.

Dew and rain combine with stone, bark, leaves

in Nature’s hymn.

Reverie rises and flows like water trickles

while Wattle-birds call from unmarred depths.

Wilderness capsule.

Wraith-like fingers of mist caress forbidding granite walls

And gently waft above the coastal plain;

Ephemeral wisps of vapour spiral high and coalesce,

Creating drops that later turn to rain.

The droplets roll and drip upon the moss and sedge below,

then spill from rocks and tumble from the peaks;

They swiftly grow in volume, countless cascades
taking shape,

And churning waters soon are forming creeks.

The creeks become a river and relax their frantic pace,

They glide through woods like liquid crystal snakes;

The stately forest giants are fed, all evergreens will thrive,

As sand bars form and shift, creating lakes.

At last the river empties out to meet the ocean’s surge,

A warming sun climbs higher in the skies;

Evaporation rises in a gently swirling mist,

Ensuring water’s cycle never dies.

Based on an idea by Frank Davis

There was a man, true walkers know

Man of distinction, an honour to bestow.

He’s led some tracks, we can’t retrace

Some now lost, in many a place

But always went, where all should go

His thoughts to all, in his life’s throw

A leader, of might, and true clout

Impart his knowledge, none miss out

Took all on trails, to distant places

Walked on tracks, to foreign glaces

Always with thought, you can’t deny

With manner and joke, he’s flying high

To any talk, name stands in awe

A true walker, leader all adore

His name stands forever, with the best

He was the greatest, with the rest

This man to follow, walk and talk

So much in his heart, for all who sought

To track, and flowers, knowledge gave vent

Was his pleasure, to his followers sent

But winds they blow, to age we come

To shorter paths, our lives succumb

There is to one, all give hearty cheer

But on the side, I’ve shed a tear

Ralph, you’re a legend, let none forget

We all miss you, it’s no secret

I was grateful, my thanks and cheer

To celebrate your last birthday,

With you and a beer.