Passed along the Apex Australia grapevine, we were put in touch with Derek Clarke in Esperance. Esperance is on West Australia's southern coast and a short drive from Ravensthorpe where we were staying with friends of Derek's sister Mazz, Jenny and Andrew Chambers, on their wheat farm. Over dinner at the Chambers' the night before we set off for Esperance, Mazz had warned us about Derek, "he's not like me at all, I don't know where he gets it from". Gets what, we asked. "He's very... dramatic" was all she would say.
View from Frenchman's Peak Hill
Dramatic? True enough. We had received this text message from him the day before: Do you guys know what Budgie Smugglers are? With no further elaboration, we tried to put the squeeze on Mazz, to see if she knew what her brother was up to. Clearly under orders not to reveal more and spoil the surprise, all she would say was that "my brother has a real taste for the dramatic. I'm not supposed to tell you any more. He..." and she tailed off as we hung our fork-fulls mid air, mouths agape, wondering what in the name of dancing Beelzebubs we had gotten ourselves into.
Budgie Smugglers? Errant, flair-for-the-dramatic brothers swearing their sisters to secrecy? This was all very cloak-and-dagger, too Mr Mustard in the Drawing Room with a gold chandelier. What pact had we entered into when we accepted the offer of assistance from the Apex Australia club? Would we ever be the same again? Who supplied the budgies and where were we to smuggle them to? Would Phil, who regularly sleeps with one eye open, now keep watch with two? Our fate was out of our hands and an enigmatic riddle was unfolding. We had no choice but to walk smack-bang into it.
Climbing up Frenchman's Peak was not the easy stroll we first thought it would be
We drove smack-band into Derek’s scheming by early afternoon (regular subscribers to our blogsite will undoubtedly know by now the regularity with which we arrive places ‘early/late evening’, as intrepidity may be a full-time state of mind, but it doesn’t really kick in until the fourth or fifth cup of coffee after waking up. This note is for all you who take notice, who really care, and who take pride in pointing these things out). He had contacted us as we approached Esperance, telling us to meet him in a lay-by, outside the town, in the Information Bay, and to ring him when we were there.
What? Why are we? Uh? He said what? And we just wait and? Ah? That’s what he said to what? Eh? These words and more like them we inarticulated as we waited for Derek “Drama” Clarke to meet us. It was all very Mission Impossible – enigmatic Budgie Smuggler codewords, secret itineraries, secure location ‘meets’ - who was this man, this Dr Strangelove who orchestrated all this? (You exshpect ush to talk? - No, Cheekyasyoucants, I expect you to die!)
Barry Wroth and Laury Seaton make sure Phil doesn't forget his bucket
Half-expecting a blacked out anonymous-looking car to glide along the gravel path towards us and for a besuited bowler-hat wearing, stocky, strong-arm Chinaman killer-assassin-chauffeur to open the passenger door and for an egg-headed oddball scar-faced evil genius to emerge to tell us our fate, we were surprised when Derek drove up to us in a perky white car, and emerged from it smiling, looking normal, but smiling a smile all the time.
We make it to the top. Anne now has more to worry about than her fear of heights
He introduced himself then handed us our itinerary; a map of Esperance; directions to the Seton's whose house we would be staying in; a voucher to buy some lunch at the Jetty Café; and our activities for the next two days, starting with the Apex meeting that night, where we would have explained to us what the list of challenges intricately associated with Budgie Smugglers and enigmatically entitled Wash a Beret, Scrub a Seal and Clean a Car actually meant. Still smiling, he laughed, then abruptly said goodbye, and left us in the lay-by, waving us off, still smiling, and laughing, and we felt worried, confused, and deeply, deeply concerned that Derek was some kind of sick twisted sicko. As it turns out we were only half right.
Stood Half Naked on Frenchmans Peak we celebrate that Challenge 1 is Completed
We parked up at Laurie and Rachel Seton's home, greeted enthusiastically by Rachel, as Laurie, Apex Club President, and Policeman, was working. She showed us to the annexed building which was to be our home for the next week, and we settled in, then went to the Apex meeting to discover our fate and see what all this clandestine maneuvering had been leading us towards. We had heard of the secretism and furtiveness of the Masons, but also of the covert and hidden nature of the Ku Klux Klan. Was this somewhere in between? What did they have against budgies anyway?
Well, now we know what budgie smugglers are!
We found out soon enough though. Arriving at the meeting in the Bay of Isles Hotel for the 6.30pm rendezvous we were met by Derek, who took us inside and put us at our ease, introducing us to members Stewart Ward and Ross Beckett, who in turn introduced us to the others. Before long we were taken into the meeting room, and introduced to everyone else, as they went through the procedural and practical machinations of running a service club.
We wash a Frenchman's Peak Hill
Apex is the only Australian made service club, being founded in Geelong, Victoria, during the 1930s depression by three young architects. The three, sons of Rotarians, had wanted to join a Rotary club but because they shared the same profession, were not allowed. So they formed Apex. Now an Australia wide organization Apex clubs are made up of members aged 18 to 45, of both men and women, and youth clubs consisting of young Australians aged up to 18.
At the beginning of the meeting acting President Ross Beckett (Laurie was on duty, catching perps) asked Derek to voice the Ideals of Apex, that summarise the aims and aspirations of the Apexians. He stood and repeated verbatim that it was their goal: "To make the ideal of service the basis of all enterprise; To develop by example a more intelligent and aggressive citizenship; To provide a means of forming enduring friendships, rendering altruistic service and building better communities; To promote international understanding and friendship". Then asked as a matter of protocol to repeat the mission statement, he declared, with a smile in our direction, that it was "To grow, learn, make friends, and have fun, while helping others".
Gareth working away at task number two
He then sat down and the meeting went through its motions. After dinner was served we were asked to speak, and after the explaining was done, we sat and answered questions. Then it was time to reveal what it was we were to be doing, and what the mystery had been all about. Individual envelopes were handed to the three of us, and one by one, we were asked to open them to reveal our challenges.
Challenge 1: Wash a Beret. Sponsored to the tune of $250 by the Esperance Apex Club. We were to climb to the top of Frenchman's Peak, a hilltop lookout, and, with only a bucket and a toothbrush, clean the top of it, wearing only a pair of Budgie Smugglers
Challenge 2: Clean a car. Sponsored for $250 by the Bay Automotive Group. We were to clean all the cars in their used car lot, again, wearing only the Budgie Smugglers.
Challenge 3: Scrub a Seal. Sponsored for $250 by Bay of Isles Computers. We were to scrub, using only toothbrushes, all the birdshit off the seal statues in the fountain in the roundabout in the middle of town, wearing, again, only the Budgie Smugglers.
By then, of course, we had a fair idea what 'Budgie Smugglers' were, so when Derek produced from a goody bag a pair of (brand new, thank god) skin-tight swimming trunks (bathers? cossies? togs?) for Phil and I, we were not surprised, but imagining ourselves in them in public took some doing and was an image best pushed aside. We were learning that we were going to have to earn our donations. The date for the challenge was set for early the following day, so, presumably, we could not scarper and do a runner.
On the Thursday, Laurie had a day off, and he suggested we take a drive around the beach to Cape la Grande, and up Frenchman's Peak, where we could complete Challenge 1. As promised, we packed our budgie smugglers. Unloading the cars we were then loaded with the buckets, the water, the toothbrushes and (for those of us endowed by nature with one) our budgies, which were tucked away snugly, and we ascended Frenchman's Peak. The view top was breathtaking, with a panorama of Esperance Bay and beyond. In the matter of minutes, though, the view was a whole lot less pleasant, as bare flesh goosepimpled by the biting wind, and wedgie-snapped milk white cheeks punched each other inside over-tight speedos, and the budgie in us withered and shrank away, as we cleaned and clenched then through gritted teeth performed our task, completing our challenge, and abandoning our dignity.
The day of the challenges and we were ready and waiting, willing and wanting to get it all over and done with, asap, no-questions-asked, get-in get-out, no messing around up and attem. We arrived gingerly at the Bay Automotive Group. Stuart and Bruce showed us their used car lot, and all 50 vehicles waiting to be cleaned and took the piss. Stuart then introduced us to Brownie, who usually does the job alone and fully-clothed, and to his credit, he took it in his stride.
We were both of us smuggling before long and as the traffic swerved and veered to catch sight of us (or having caught sight been blinded by the reflection off a gleaming 'ttock) and whistled and jeered and put protective palms over innocent kiddies eyes, we were lathering up a storm, washing the cars with both efficiency and sexiness, showing more thigh than a Butcher's shop window, with more bounce than a seal rookery during the mating season.
After being presented with our cheque by Stuart and Bruce, we drove off to out next challenge in a courtesy car, our van being given a full service by the mechanics at Bay Automotive, much to Stuart's chagrin as he joked "they're givin ya the works, I told em to check the oil and change a windscreen wiper for ya, but they never bloody listen to me", and waited for Derek Clarke at the Roundabout on the intersection of Andrew St and The Esplanade.
Sarah, an Apexian collects extra donations in the form of viewing the nutters tax
We had lost one of the toothbrushes we were to use to clean the seal statues, presented to us at the Apex Meeting (the vortex that is the inside of the van swirls at a rate three hundred thousand times faster than even the fastest of washing machines - that is: fast - nothing is where you put it, even if you say you put it there, which you probably did, but three dimension changes ago. The Vortex ) and told Derek that, drat, golly-darn, and oh, no, we're one peg-brush down, and ..tch.. ooh.
We scrub away at the seagull poo with our toothbrushes
"Not to worry" says a beaming Derek 'Drama' Clarke, "I took the precaution of bringing an extra one each, just in case, so you can all get stuck in. Here you go", and he presented us with a choice selection. I took one with the double-brush-action with the thick-set tubi-grip and smiling through my teeth at Drama we proceeded to the roundabout, got semi-nakeed in public and clambered into the middle of it, took up a seal each and scrubbed.
To say that it was humiliating would be to assume we had much shame or sense of self-worth remaining in us after the two previous challenges. There was a steady stream of cars passing by. Some circled and drove circuits to get a better look, others were visibly disgusted, some laughed and cheered us on, the hoot-tooting of car horns continuous. Sarah and Ross Beckett stopped drivers and shook the tin collecting donations for us. Any ideas we may have harboured about this being a publicity stunt for five minutes for the local paper were swiftly banished, as Derek, still smiling, took picture after picture, reminding us at one stage that "you only have another forty-five minutes left guys, well done". Only?
We laugh at the expressions of drivers passing by as they see us at work
We scrubbed and cleaned and got stuck in. Now we're not sure why he did it, but Drama told us half-way through the challenge that "it's lucky you're doing this today, because on Monday the council are cleaning it all with power washers, and then there'd be no birdshit left for you guys to clean eh". Lucky wasn't the word that immediately sprang to mind really.
Toothbrushes in the air, Challenge 3 is completed
Paul Wenegal, from Bay of Isles Computers, who sponsored us for this challenge arrived just as we were finishing up our Indignity Hour, having scrubbed all the crap we could find. It felt strange being back in clothing. And although it was cold us budgie smugglers are a toughened breed, but our budgies were withering and needed a nice warm bed.
Paul, the man responsible for challenge number 3
Two minutes after we finish cleaning the seagull poo the birds are back undoing our work, laughing at us with their caws.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment