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Dear friends, In the Southern Hemisphere we are now moving out of a hot dry Summer here in South Australia into Autumn, while in the Northern Hemisphere you are leaving Winter behind to the new life that Spring brings. As the new year unfolds before us, seemingly full of endless possibilities. It’s a time when many of us look ahead and envision what we wish to accomplish, and we accordingly set plans and goals. However, life has a way of intervening in our best-laid plans. That initial burst of enthusiasm that inspires us to aim higher and do more is often tempered by the realities of world events and local happenings. It becomes all too easy to set aside our ambitions, convincing ourselves that we will try again next year when circumstances might be more favourable. With this in mind, I decided to abandon the tradition of making New Year’s resolutions this year. Instead, I’m going with a more flexible approach. If I manage to tick off one or two items from my to-do list, that is wonderful. If not, I will simply move on without regret. No good comes from overthinking these things. Sometimes we set unrealistic expectations for ourselves, and this can lead to unnecessary disappointment. Then there are circumstances beyond our control, which is what happened to me. I didn’t achieve half of what I had planned in 2025 due to a medical issue, which resulted in me having to take strong medication. I’ve never suffered from writer’s block until the last six months. I’ve been swimming through a fog-induced brain, which pretty much stopped me dead. And just like that, not much writing was done last year. I’m off the strong drugs now, and my head has cleared. I’m still a bit slow, my brain is finally functioning, and I’ve started writing again. Considering my six-month hiatus, I was surprised when my Grammarly stats came in for the last few months. Grammarly is a Spelling, punctuation and Grammar checker. An example: Grammarly analysed 1,094,227 of my words over the last month and estimated that I was more productive than 99% of Grammarly users. A total of 862,200,649 words have been analysed since 2016. When I look at that number, I’m staggered. Tones that were detected in my writing a week ago:- Confident 37% Informative 32% Informal 11% Appreciative 5% Curious 5% Direct 5% Joyful 5% So, no matter what you think you have or haven’t achieved, you’ll probably find it’s never as bad as you think. Prologue of Book 7 of the West Series, Tempest: “Eight hundred and forty-six kilometres north of Adelaide, South Australia, the opal mining town of Coober Pedy, with its eighteen hundred residents, give or take, and fifty nationalities, was the perfect place to disappear. Wilbur King hadn’t come to this godforsaken town out of choice. If someone had told him twelve months ago that he’d find himself back in Coober Pedy, digging a shaft for opal, he would have laughed his head off. He’d done his time mining in his youth, made a fortune, and moved on. There was no way he was going to go through that again. Sometimes life throws a curveball. He’d arrived undercover of darkness, found shelter in a dugout, and spent time coming to terms with his situation. He needed to buy a stake in a mine, which could be tricky given his current financial constraints. He wasn’t interested in the geology behind mining. Still, Wilbur knew it involved digging and moving dirt from one place to another, and if you shifted enough, you’d strike something. He needed someone to stake him, but his chances of finding such a person in a mostly dull outback town were slim. While pondering this dilemma, he’d wandered into the Desert Cave Hotel, one of Coober Pedy’s finest establishments. He moved to the shady end of the bar and spotted an old bloke with his dog. Wilbur pulled out a stool, keeping his distance. He needed time to think, and a few beers usually helped clear his mind and open it up to possibilities. The old bloke glanced sideways at him. His blurry red eyes and blotchy skin told a story. “I’m Bob, and my mate here is Sammy.” He looked down at a shaggy, black-and-white collie, then back to Wilbur. Bob ignored Wilbur’s disfigurement and instead started talking about Sammy. It wasn’t strange to Wilbur. He’d had a dog when he lived here in his past life. Mining was a lonely job, and a dog was good company. What was odd was that, unlike most people, Bob didn’t turn away from his mutilated face. As Bob spoke, the conversation became interesting. “Did you say you managed a mine at the Ten Mile?” No big mining companies operated in Coober Pedy, as opal couldn’t be quantified through exploratory drilling. The only way to find opal was to dig. Budding miners showed up, got a land permit, pegged a chunk of land, and dug away. Many teamed up to share the cost—opal mining wasn’t a cheap exercise. Managing a mine revealed a whole new side of things. The old bloke had tapped the side of his nose, nodded, and then looked at the small group at the far end of the bar. He then whispered behind his hand, “Didn’t manage it as such. Got a retainer to keep an eye on things. Anyhow, it’s history as they let me go.” He picked up the glass, slugged back a mouthful of beer, and wiped his sleeve across his mouth. “The mines were all doing well except for the Ten Mile. We initially pulled colour from it, but we’re not finding much now. I’m a casualty of cutbacks.” “Sorry to hear that, mate.” Wilbur doubted Bob’s managerial skills and wasn’t surprised that he’d backpedalled on the statement. “Who owns the Ten Mile?” “Em Rogers. Denver, Colorado, Rogers—” “Henry Rogers?” Wilbur’s heartbeat did a happy double beat at this piece of news. “That’s him. Henry and Margaret.” Bob emptied his glass and plonked it on the counter. “You know em?” He belched loudly. Wilbur nodded. “A long time ago.” “Can I get ya a cold one?” Bob arched bushy, grey eyebrows. “My shout,” Wilbur called the bartender. “Two cold ones, mate.” How easy it was to fall back into Aussie speak even after all these years. Wilbur watched the bubbles race to the surface as the bartender filled the glasses from the tap. He shoved them on the counter, picked up the fifty Wilbur slapped in front of him, and returned the change. Wilbur swallowed a mouthful of liquid amber. He resisted the urge to press the cold glass against his face to cool his skin. Who’d have thought he’d find a link to Henry after all these years? He needed to check out that mine. If it was the one he’d inspected back in the day, they’d been looking for opal in the wrong spot. Back then, Henry had the mine appraised, and the advice was to cut elsewhere. Wilbur suspected the opal was deep, but he’d never mentioned it to Henry or Margaret. “I’d like to look at the mine.” Wilbur held eye contact with Bob. “I’ll make it worth your while.” “Sure.” Bob grinned. “Nobody out there. You want me to drive ya?” Wilbur nodded. “Why not?” “Keep it quiet, though.” Bob tapped his nose again. “I’ll be up shit creek without a paddle if Henry’s missus, Margaret, finds out I’m hanging around. She’s one mean sheila.” “Don’t worry about Margaret. My lips are sealed.” There were many Aussie sayings to relearn, and that one was a doozy. Months had passed since meeting Bob. Wilbur had inspected the mine, and with Henry’s blessing to drill a shaft in a different section, he was ready to see if his prediction would bear fruit. He began by drilling a small three-foot shaft. The next step was to widen it to six feet. He attached a rotary cutting tool to the drill’s bucket and commenced work. He excavated the shaft to a depth of seventy feet and drilled holes around its circumference. Explosives, placed strategically, would expand the shaft to twelve feet. Once that was done, a truck-mounted vacuum machine, aptly named the blower, would remove the dirt. Then, using a crane, he would lower the tunnelling machine down the shaft. Once the tunnelling machine was running, Wilbur lined the tunnel with lights to spot opal. Hearing the machine scrape against the opal, as if it were glass, wasn’t enough. He wanted to be mesmerised by its beauty. He’d been at it for a few days without success before he heard the long-awaited grinding sound and pulled the machine back four feet. He gripped his chest as veins of red, green, blue, and yellow opal winked back. Over the next few days, he spent hours chipping away beneath the opal, chiselling it out and dropping it into a bucket. He had quite a pile to tumble, separate, and clean. Moving it to his sorting area, he got to work. That’s when his heartbeat shot up. Jesus Christ! Black opal! It was as rare as hen’s teeth and worth twice as much. He wasn’t Irish, but when had that ever stopped a bloke from dancing a jig? Keeping the discovery close to his chest, he had the opal checked by someone outside Coober Pedy. He hadn’t lost his touch. Confirmation cleared the way to contact Henry, who drew up a contract between himself, Henry, Margaret and their two children, Isabella and Ethan. Wilbur didn’t hesitate to deal with Bob. Falling down abandoned mines killed miners every year. What was one old bloke in the grand scheme of things? He didn’t want anyone looking over his shoulder. Still, most importantly, he didn’t want the other miners to find out about the strike. One old bloke in a pub with a few pints in him, and the news would spread quickly. Sure, people would eventually find out, but they wouldn’t know which mine, as Wilbur wasn’t selling his opal locally. There was too much cash on the line. This first find was worth over a million, and he didn’t want miners flooding the area and staking claims. He did a good deed by rescuing Sammy. The dog hadn’t wanted to go with him. There was mistrust in his eyes when Wilbur attached a rope to his collar and dragged him to his 4WD and home to his dugout. Initially, he kept Sammy leashed and secured to stop him from leaving, but Sammy wasn’t stupid and soon realized that Wilbur offered a roof and food. Wilbur had hoped that, over time, a friendship would develop. Sammy gradually accepted that Wilbur was now a part of his life, but hadn’t yet offered the paw of friendship. The dugout needed renovations. Wilbur kept them simple, doing the work himself. The bathroom, kitchen, and a dog door were installed first, followed by tapping into an underground water supply, which brought in much-needed water. He bought some furniture and kitchenware—nothing fancy like his previous life—but it was better than nothing and made the place comfortable. Wilbur enjoyed the isolation. It was just the two of them—people, he could do without. He grinned at the hand fate dealt him. One minute, he didn’t have a dollar to his name or a friend, and now he was on his way to unimaginable wealth with Sammy by his side. He’d quietly go about amassing his fortune. Then one day, he’d locate a plastic surgeon in some far-flung country who was talented enough to transform his appearance into something that people wouldn’t run from. Until then, he’d lie low and let the world come to terms with Walter Kinsley’s death while Wilbur King lived to fight another day.” Until next time, stay safe Suzie
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Dear friends, Hoping this newsletter finds you all in good health. With the end of the year fast approaching, our thoughts turn to the Christmas season, holidays, and the start of a new year. At the end of every year, I wonder where that year went, and when I look back and study my movements, it becomes clear—I’m always busy doing something. It sometimes feels like an age thing: the older we get, the faster time seems to fly, but for me, it’s about packing in as much as I can while I can. Looking back at this year, I realised it’s been seven years since I released Racing Dream (2018). I was inspired to write the Racing Series after working in the horse racing industry as a young woman. The story follows Annabel Martin’s dream to win the Melbourne Cup. For those who don’t know, the Melbourne Cup is Australia’s most prestigious horse race—it literally stops a nation—and it’s the highest honour for any jockey in Australia. In 2015, Michelle Payne was the first female jockey to win The Cup on Prince of Penzance. I’d completed Racing Dream a few years before she made history, and it wasn’t until after her win that the book was published. It was an exciting time, and the start of my novel-writing journey. I followed up the first book with Racing Time and Racing Fate. Fast forward to November 2025, and a second female jockey, Jamie Melham, wins the prestigious race on Half Yours, a five-year-old gelding trained by father-son team Tony and Calvin McEvoy, exactly ten years after Michelle Payne’s 2015 historic win. Jamie Melham also made history by becoming the first female jockey to win both the Caulfield Cup and the Melbourne Cup in the same year, achieving a ‘Cups Double.’ Every jockey’s journey starts somewhere, and I wanted to capture that in the opening chapter of Racing Dream. An extract which begins five years ago: *** A heavy frost blanketed the Oakbank Racecourse, leaving the land white and brittle. Andy pulled the ski hat down over his ears and hunkered into his padded anorak jacket. Pressing his chin into the woollen scarf coiled around his neck, he plunged his hands deep into his pockets. His nose dripped, his eyes wept, and, while stamping warmth into his feet, he mused that, for a location in a country known for its heat, the Adelaide Hills in South Australia had to be the coldest place on earth. A shot of pain burst from the spurs in his heels. Idiot. That’s what he was. Standing out here at this godforsaken hour, waiting for another one of those rich kids he hated. The trouble with being forty, but with a sixty-something body, he couldn’t afford to be fussy. The money was good, and with barely enough in the bank to cover his ongoing medical bills and everyday living expenses, Andy needed to take whatever work came his way. In the distance, a pristine silver Mercedes entered the main gate and made its way along the narrow strip of tarmac. Typical. He’d told the girl’s father to park in the trainer’s car park, but the guy drove toward the stables and stopped not far from where Andy stood. His girl climbed out, closed the door, and waved goodbye to the driver. That’s a bonus, Andy thought; the father isn’t staying. She turned and crossed the grass to where Andy waited. For some reason, he’d thought she’d be tall, which would have put paid to any desire she might have to become a jockey, but it was a small bundle of energy that walked toward him. Her breath drifted in the air, and she tossed her blond ponytail. “Hi, are you Andy?” The father had said she was sixteen, but she thrust out a hand with adult confidence, and her slender fingers slipped easily into his grasp. Her soft touch told him she’d never done a hard day’s work in her life, and he frowned at her expensive designer outfit of polo neck skivvy, beige jodhpurs, and tailored navy-blue riding jacket. At least she’d had the sense to wear regulation ankle boots instead of some fancy, high-polished, show-jumping style. She carried a hard hat and looked like she was about to ride dressage in a highfalutin competition. “Annabel Martin?” “Yes, that’s me.” Her private school accent fuelled his misery further. She oozed privilege. “Okay, my name is Jones. Mr. Jones.” His brusque manner didn’t offend her, and her smile stayed in place. She must be thick—a small consolation—money couldn’t buy brains. She smiled, and he wanted nothing more than to turn around and head home to have quality time with his wife, Mary. Too bad they sorely needed the money. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jones. I’m excited you agreed to take me on. My dad told me you were a champion jockey five years in a row. I hope to be one myself one day.” She was composed as she smacked warmth into her palms. He flinched as a stabbing pain travelled from his knee to his ankle—the cold doing its work. His suspension and recurring injuries reduced him from champion jockey to riding work for second-rate trainers, and he filled the gap with jobs like these for the rich and famous. “Yes,” he grumbled, “my racing days are long gone.” He leaned forward and kneaded his knee with his fingers. “Are you all right, Mr. Jones?” “I’ll live,” he moaned. “Good thing I’m not a horse. They’d have put me down years ago.” She laughed. He frowned, straightened, and looked carefully at her. “Your father said he saw a bright future for you in dressage. He gave the impression he’d only arranged this meeting today to placate you…” Silence, just even breathing. He’d hit a nerve. “Does he know you want to be a champion jockey?” “Not really, Mr. Jones. So if you don’t mind, can we keep my ambition between us?” Andy figured, whatever Annabel wanted, Annabel got. She was another rich, pampered kid. Like the many that had passed through his hands, she probably knew sweet fuck all. Good luck to the father; he was going to have his hands full with his indulged darling in the not-so-distant future. “Whatever makes you happy.” Her smiling eyes creased at the edges. She seemed older than any sixteen-year-old he’d ever met. Damn it; he was cold and grumpy, and she was anything but. He just wanted to be at home in his warm bed with his even warmer Mary. Maybe someday he’d listen when she told him to stay put. He hadn’t listened for the last thirty years. But she was right: working at Oakbank in the height of winter sure didn’t help his arthritis. He wasn’t in a position to knock back the race committee’s permission to use the track for jobs like this—teaching riding technique and race strategy—it helped pay the never-ending bills, so he shouldn’t complain. He glared at Miss Confidence instead. “Before we make any decision on your future,” Andy said, unsmiling, “let’s see what you know about thoroughbreds. I’ll get James to help you saddle the horse. Follow me.” “Does James work for you?” Andy glanced sideways at the girl. “No. But he helps me out with jobs like this when he’s not busy.” Annabel nodded. He led her into the central stall area. In Andy’s opinion, the Oakbank Racecourse and picturesque townships nestled along the Onkaparinga Valley had a lot to offer tourists and locals alike. The racetrack was underutilised, with only a few official racing events held during the year. Some local trainers used the facilities during the week to train their horses. Today, however, the concrete stalls stood quiet and empty except for one that housed Andy’s horse. “James,” Andy called out. A head of short, spiked black hair appeared from behind the horse. “Here, Andy.” “Help Annabel saddle Hot Velvet?” “Sure.” James ducked under the barrier, his black eyes widening, and reached out a hand. “James McKenzie. I’m helping Andy out today.” Annabel took it, and James pumped vigorously. Andy had heard girls around the track twittering about young James’s good looks. He supposed he had that classic handsomeness with his square jaw, high cheekbones, expressive dark eyes, and fit physique. He was taller than five-foot-nothing Annabel, but still came within the height range for a jockey. “Ciao,” she said cheekily. Their instant body language peeved Andy even more. The last thing he needed was hormone-driven youngsters in his stable. “Are you a jockey?” she asked. “Yes.” James released her hand. “I’ve just started at Hosking’s stable at Morphettville.” “How fabulous.” “Andy helped me secure the position.” “I made the introduction, and you did the rest.” What was it about young people that grated? It must be their possibility of a bright future, one he no longer had. “Show Annabel where the tack is. I’ll be next to the parade ring.” He turned to walk away, but their lack of movement drew him back to them. The last thing he needed was these two going all gooey-eyed on day one. They were the poster kids for racing. It could happen. “Come on. We don’t have all day.” He hated his cranky tone, but it was hard to maintain a happy persona when his body screamed a daily protest. Mary called him Mr. Grumpy and she wasn’t far wrong. “Onto it,” James returned. He rolled his eyes. “He must have got out of bed on the wrong…” Andy lost the conversation as he turned to walk away. Kids. Minutes later, the clip-clop of hooves drew his eyes back to the stalls, and Annabel appeared, leading the horse, her hard black riding hat now in place, completing her wardrobe. The kid was a picture. Long blond hair, aquamarine eyes, porcelain complexion, young, vital, and rich as Bart Cummings. Fuck, he hated being poor. He gingerly stamped his feet against the cold and coughed to clear the tickle in his throat. “Take the horse into the parade ring over there.” Andy nodded in the general direction. “Let’s see what you know.” James stopped beside him, his vision glued to Annabel as she led the horse onto the frozen turf and sprang into the racing saddle. He leaned over to Andy and whispered, “She looks uncomfortable with the short stirrups.” “If she wants to be a jockey, she’ll have to get used to them.” Andy blew heat into his hands. Along with a whole lot of other things she probably hasn’t thought about. “She’s got a great seat.” Andy glared sideways at him and arched an eyebrow. “Yes, James, she sits the horse well.” James, fortunately, stopped speaking, and Andy turned his attention back to Annabel. She adjusted the reins and nudged the gelding in the ribs. The horse let fly with his hindquarters. He leapt forward, mouthing at the bit, trying to grab it between his teeth. Annabel fought to control the horse’s head, and when he thrust it down between his legs, Andy thought she was going to sail over it. But she used her shoulder and arm muscles to rein him in, and the horse snorted his disgust but complied. Hunching farther into his jacket, Andy found his curiosity awakened. Annabel used her hands like a professional—no uncertainty, no fear, and her body remained perfectly positioned in the saddle. She praised the horse regularly, using an encouraging tone, and dropped her hand down the gelding’s neck, stroking and petting. The horse’s skin quivered, and Andy could have sworn, if Hot Velvet could have, he’d have purred in delight. “She’s got something,” James said, a smile in his voice. “What would you know?” Andy mumbled. The kid’s wrong. She’s got more than something. Andy scrutinised her every move as she put the horse through its paces. He acknowledged she was a natural rider—something he didn’t often see. But he kept his thoughts to himself. Half an hour later, he called her over to him. The kid glowed with happiness as she dismounted and bounded over to him. “Okay, so you know a bit about riding,” he conceded. “What do you know about racing?” “Nothing, Mr. Jones. I’ve been to the races and watched it on TV. I’ve never ridden in a race, and I don’t know the strategy behind riding a winner. All I know is, I’m a good rider and want to learn the rest.” Her candidness was surprising. A pleasant change from the previous well-heeled brats that thought they knew everything and knew nothing. He smiled at her for the first time. “Return him to the stall and give him a feed. I’m sure James will give you a hand. And when you’re both done,”—Andy turned away, smacking warmth into his hands—“come over to the office.” A smile touched his lips. He cut across the betting area and entered through the secretary’s office door. Settling into a chair near the gas heater, he shook his head to himself. Who would have thought it? He’d found another star. *** (The newsletter images are of the book release at the Oakbank Racecourse, where the story started) I hope you enjoyed the extract. The Racing Series was my first attempt at writing a series in which characters cross all the books. The West Series, book seven, Tempest, is now available. Book eight will be available early 2026. All my books are available on Amazon in e-book (Kindle + Kindle Unlimited) and paperback. A heads up on my current work. I’m venturing into the paranormal. This story is set in the Faroe Islands, which is a country we visited last year (2024). It’s a glorious place to set a story. Look out for that one in 2026. I would like to wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Until next time, stay safe. Suzie Dear friends, Hoping this newsletter finds you all in good health. It’s been a busy year so far for me, what with travel and editing book seven of the West Series, Tempest, which is due for release in October. The eighth and final book of the series, Reckoning, will be available early 2026. On the writing front, I’ve been working on a paranormal world, which is set in the Faroe Islands. While writing keeps me busy, so do my family, husband Peter, and two much-loved Bearded Collies, Kuura and Rupert, and an extended family with nephews, nieces, sister and brother, and their spouses. We all have fur kids. It must be something that runs in the family. And I, for one, couldn’t imagine my life without them. You will notice that animals play a significant part in my stories. The year has moved on quickly, and we’re now in September, which is, of course, spring in South Australia. The writing trip to the UK and Ireland in March - April 2025, provided a wealth of writing material for future stories. In May-June when my husband and I, along with two friends, headed for a holiday in Spain and Portugal. The highlight was a six-night train journey from Granada to Seville (Spain) with stops along the way and a river cruise along the Douro River in Portugal. We’d been looking forward to this trip for some time as we all love train travel and cruising. For me to end up in a Spanish hospital wasn’t on the itinerary. I had a fall and was lying on the bedroom floor, unable to breathe, I thought, ‘This is it.’ I hadn’t envisaged dying on this trip, but it looked like there’d be no more holidays for me. I don’t remember everything I was thinking, but I do remember worrying that Tempest and Reckoning wouldn’t be published. I had people waiting for book seven. Peter would have to fix it. Then I vaguely remember being lifted onto the bed, our friend came and got me dressed—why do these things happen when you’re naked?—and then a handsome paramedic arrived—yes, I noticed—and I was whisked off to Jerez de la Frontera Hospital, where it was determined, over several hours, that I didn’t have a punctured lung but did have several fractured ribs. I was, however, at this point happy to be alive. My books are action-packed adventure stories, and inevitably, my characters encounter danger and death. It’s hard to write about the pain someone feels if you’ve never experienced it. Travel brings realism to the story, as does immersing oneself in the environment and culture. If done well, the reader steps into the story and gets a vision of the place. The same can be said for experiencing a near-death situation, the pain attached to it and the total loss of control. This element is harder to portray, so as writers, we draw on our experience, whether it be limited or extensive, to bring realism to our stories. What I gained from this experience was more material. Firstly, the pain in my back was horrendous, and it took several days before I could touch the area. I was black and blue. I’ve never seen bruising like it. Everywhere hurt. It’s not a feeling anyone would ever forget. The breathing issue was a very different thing. Not being able to get air into my lungs is what made me think I wasn’t going to survive. When your lungs won’t cooperate, believe me, that’s scary. And when we ended up at a foreign hospital where, as you’d expect, Spanish was the primary language. This brought additional anxiety. We couldn’t understand them and vice versa. Peter speaks Spanish, but the medical terms were difficult for him to follow. It all boiled down to the fact that we’d lost control of the situation, which caused our stress levels to rise. There were no surprises when we learned I had broken ribs. I was advised to rest and given painkillers. And so, we continued our holiday. Meanwhile the train had moved onto Seville, where our trip was ending, so we had to catch a taxi to Seville, which was an hour’s drive, and met our friends. We had a week in Seville before flying to Portugal to join the Douro River cruise. The weather was unseasonably hot, making walking hard work. My lungs weren’t responding as they should. So, we took it easy, had lots of stops to rehydrate and managed to enjoy the rest of Seville. The cruise, of course, was perfect for doing as much or as little as we wanted. The thing is everything that happened during our holiday has given me a wealth of information that I can use. There is nothing like experiencing something firsthand and then using it to put your characters through hell, knowing that your writing is as close to the real thing as you can make it. If you’re looking for your next read and love characters that appear throughout all the books, then the West Series is for you. All eight books are stand-alone, but if you want to work your way through them, start with book one, Destiny. Here is an overview of the patriarch and matriarch: Dan West has laid to rest three wives and raised six kids. He made his fortune in the South Australian opal fields of Coober Pedy, repurchased the Colorado family home from the bank, and breeds prime beef cattle and thoroughbred racehorses. He should be happy, but after twenty-two years without a partner, he would love nothing more than to find someone to share it all with. Dan heads to a bear lodge in British Columbia and meets the beautiful Ellie Clifford. He knows instantly that she’s wife number four. Ellie isn’t so easily convinced. She’s forged a career as a doctor, travelled with Médecins Sans Frontières. Her two daughters, and parents have been the foundation of her structured and safe life. The last thing she needs is a man like Dan West to tear that world apart. Dan is determined to overcome her objections. But his arch-enemy tests his love for Ellie and his family. There is more at stake than Ellie’s objections or his trophy hunting past—the lives of his loved ones are on the line. On a local note, South Australia received much-needed rain in June and July. Our water tanks are now full. Today, there is a real spring feeling in the air. The sun is shining, and everything feels good in the world. Enjoy your reading and until next time, stay safe. Suzie Dear friends, A writing friend and I just returned from a writing research trip to England and Ireland. We started with a few days in London to celebrate our joint birthdays. We were both in denial about the significant numbers we were celebrating. It didn’t seem real, but time flies, and one minute it’s a thirtieth birthday, and next… well, I don’t want to frighten everyone, so I’ll keep that secret. I can’t, however, complain. I’ve lived an interesting life, have wonderful friends and family surrounding me, have met some fabulous people along the way and have the best job in the world, writing—back to our birthdays. A group of Aussie writing friends, part of our critique group, treated us to High Tea at the London Ritz. It was a wonderful experience and one we’ll treasure. If you haven’t done it and ever get the chance, go. You won’t be disappointed. Those first few days allowed us to unwind from our flight before we headed to Ireland. After spending time in the Faroe Islands in October 2024, I was eager to learn about Irish folklore. I’ve started a paranormal story set in the Faroes and am keen to do something similar in Ireland. I fell in love with the country and its people. We stayed in Dublin and went on a few tours, giving us a feel for the countryside. There is so much to learn from our tour guides, who weren’t lacking in filling us in on Ireland’s colourful history. The first tour we spent walking the streets of Dublin. We visited Trinity College and entered the old library. A massive restoration is underway, and over 200,000 early printed books have started being removed, cleaned, tagged, and linked to a catalogue record before being safely relocated to a climate-controlled storage facility. They will eventually return to a fully restored fireproofed library, which will take a few years to complete. There is something incredibly special about walking into an old library. If only the walls could speak. We visited Blarney Castle and kissed the stone, and another day we visited the Cliffs of Moher. Jonathon, our guide, regaled us with folklore stories and sang some Irish songs. He was one of those people who had many strings to his bow, and he could knock out a great tune. He ended with a rendition of Molly Malone and got the tour group singing along with the chorus. After leaving Ireland, we headed to Hever Castle in England, where we stayed for a few days. Hever Castle had many famous houseguests, one of whom was Anne Boleyn (1530s). Henry VIII pursued and proposed, and she accepted at Hever. Four hundred years later, Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon also visited the castle. The place was pivotal in her decision to marry the future King George VI, known as Bertie to his family. For anyone writing about those times, nothing is better than walking the halls where so much was at stake. From Hever we went to Arundel Castle—a restored and remodelled medieval castle established in the 11th century. The castle was damaged in the English Civil War and restored in the 18th and 19th centuries by Charles Howard, the 11th Duke of Norfolk. The tulips were still abundant, and the gardens alone make this a must-see destination. After Arundel, we headed southwest to Devon and Cornwall, stopping at Tintagel where King Arthur was supposedly born—his statue is a must-see. Then it was onto St Ives, the Cotswolds and Stratford-upon-Avon, where we learned about William Shakespeare. Strafford was a particular favourite of mine. The Tudor houses were breathtaking. Before returning to London, our final stop was Bletchley Park, where they broke code during World War 2. That place blew me away. I talk about the places visited because there is a wealth of information to be learned from guides, tours, visiting countries you plan to set your story in, meeting people and walking through castles and homes that are hundreds of years old. It’s taking a journey back in time. It brings a different dimension and realism to the story. I often say there is nothing like travelling to broaden the horizons. If you can’t travel overseas, then look closer to home. We spent years camping in the Australian Outback, and we still have many destinations in Australia that we have on our bucket list. I love setting stories here and have some unpublished manuscripts set in Australia that I hope to publish someday. Now, for something not so much fun about being overseas. I am generally an easy-going type of person. I don’t take life too seriously; if I do at times, I soon get over myself. But I had a situation when leaving the hotel at Heathrow Airport, which threw me into a spin. I’d said goodbye to my friend and boarded a bus to terminal five—there wasn’t a bus to terminal four, so the driver would drop me off at the adjacent Hilton Hotel. It was a short walk through and would take me about ten to fifteen minutes. The driver stopped, and I was conscious of getting off quickly so he could carry on. As I stepped off, he kindly directed me, and I started walking. Two or three minutes into that walk, I realised I didn’t have my shoulder bag. I’d stupidly left it on the bus. I’d always thought myself a calm person, boy, did I get that wrong. I raced back, but the bus had long gone. So, I entered the hotel, approached the check-in desk, and explained what had happened. They called the bus company immediately and sent a message to the driver. That was great, but I didn’t know if he did or didn’t have my bag. I burst into tears and started pacing the reception area. The staff fetched water and tried calming me, but to no avail. All I could think was that I was due to fly out shortly, and my passport, phone, and money were in my shoulder bag. Half an hour later, I was still pacing when another staff member came to the desk and said she would call the bus company to try and ascertain if the driver had the bag. When she smiled at me and said he did and was on his way to us, I burst into another bout of tears. It was such a relief. As I slowly regained control of my emotions, I wondered what would have happened had I had a heart attack and collapsed. Nobody knew who I was, and I had no identification on me. I started spinning out a story about a woman rushed to the hospital and died on arrival. I wondered how often this kind of thing happened and made a mental note to think about it in more detail when my head was functioning—it would make great book material. The bus arrived and drew me back to my immediate problem. I needed to get a move on. The driver confirmed what I’d thought that I was lucky. I wouldn’t have seen the bag again if the bus had been packed. After thanking everyone concerned, I took off toward terminal four with my bag firmly attached. This had all taken up to an hour—it felt like more. I made the check-in desk and flight, but I never want to go through that again. We never know what life will throw at us, and we may think we’ll react one way and then find out differently. Sometimes when I write my heroine or heroes into predicaments, it’s hard to describe what their bodies tell them about the situations they find themselves in. I learned a lot from that incident. I now know how the body reacts in a stressful situation; believe me, it’s not good. Until next time, stay safe Suzie Dear friends, Welcome to 2025. It’s summer in the southern hemisphere and particularly hot in South Australia. We’ve been sweltering with heat wave conditions and little rain since October last year. I can’t remember the last good rain we enjoyed here, but whenever I see it raining cats and dogs in other places, I yearn for it to head to South Australia as the Adelaide Hills is a powder keg. The heat, however, doesn’t stop the writing process. It’s good to sit in my cool office and not have to venture outside. I have to admit to being a little slow on the writing front. The sixth book in the West Series, Deliverance, will be out shortly (Update - now available). Book seven, Tempest, is with the editors and the last one, book eight, Reckoning, will head to the editors later in the year. That will be the West Series done and dusted. I believe that editing a book takes more time than writing it. There’s structural or developmental editing, copy editing or line editing and proofreading. It’s a process worked through with your editor. For instance, editing book six, Deliverance, took a few months. The editor does a structural edit first. Makes notes chapter by chapter. It comes back, and you start from the beginning and work your way through. Making the necessary changes takes time; some books require more work than others. After the first run, the book goes back to the editor for them to review said changes. They then come back with further comments or a lovely big tick. The book can then go to a different editor for the line edit. I have a group of ARC readers who proofread for me. In the meantime, any book you may be working on gets put to one side. When picked up again, I start reading myself back into the story from the beginning. Writing a book is a process. New books on the horizon: Adelaide Kendrick Crime Series, two books set in Broome, are looking for a home. Once they get one, I will continue the story. I’m working on a crime story set in the Faroes Islands and have woven the story around their Selkie folklore so that one is a little different. Looking to the future, I’m heading on a research trip with a writing friend. The UK and Ireland are on our hit list. I’ve wanted to set a story in Ireland for some time, but having never visited, I stalled that idea. I’ve often said how travel opens up the world for writers. Most of the West Series wouldn’t have happened without travel. After our trip, there’ll be no excuses for delaying. After visiting Iceland, Faroe Island, Scotland, and Scandinavia, I’ve become quite fascinated with some of their folklore stories. Ireland, I’m sure, will inspire. In August, I’ll attend the Romance Writers of Australia conference in Hobart, Tasmania. It’s a gathering of authors, writers, publishers and editors and gives those with a finished book the chance to pitch to an editor. You’ll know I don’t write straight romance if you’ve read any of my books. My stories are suspense stories with romantic elements. I’m all about action, crime and setting, but I still like to connect people. I plan on pitching the Adelaide Kendrick Series. I had some interest last year, so I hope that the changes made will bring success. The year will undoubtedly see me visiting some markets with a group of Local Authors. It’s a great way to chat with people about what they love to read, pick up some new readers and enjoy a day out with like-minded people. We’re diverse: HR Kemp, writes political crime. Jen Mackenzie Dunbar writes historical. Fay Lee writes science fiction. Check them out online. That’s all on the writing front. Early this week, Suzie Hindmarsh-Knights sat down with Faith West, who is in Australia looking at Thoroughbred bloodstock. Below is that interview. Suzie: Welcome. Faith: Thanks for inviting me. Suzie: How are you enjoying the Australian heat? Faith: I’ve been here through a hot spell of 36-plus degrees Celsius, so I’m not loving it. I reckon 25 degrees is hot enough for me. Suzie: South Australian summers are hot and dry. A few weeks back, it reached 45 degrees and in places like Coober Pedy, which I believe you’ve visited it gets hotter still. Faith: Yep, my grandfather still has interests there. He’s not spending as much time as he used to. I think the heat might be getting to him. He’s at home with my grandmother. He doesn’t complain about the English summers as much as he used to. I won’t be heading to Coober Pedy this time. Suzie: You’re here looking to purchase a few two-year-olds. Is this about strengthening your bloodline or with racing in mind? Faith: Both. As you know, West Enterprises started expanding the business back in 2023. Oliver and I will remain in Newmarket, working on the UK, Ireland and Europe racing calendar while helping to expand the American and Australian sides. Suzie: That sounds like a lot of work. Faith: It is, but it’s what we love doing as do the rest of the family. We have hard-working, knowledgeable people who carry some of that load. It makes life easier with a dynamic team. We’re fortunate. Suzie: Are you purchasing property with the thought of training Down Under? Faith: We have property here, but it’s not on the agenda now. Our horses are in excellent hands, but saying that, who knows what the future holds. Suzie: Never say never? Faith: Something like that. Suzie: You’re a mother now? Faith: Yes, Suzanna had her fourth birthday in February. I don’t know where the time goes. Suzie: How do you balance motherhood and work? Faith: It was tricky initially, but we hired a nanny who Suzanna adores. She enriches our lives. It’s a win-win. Suzie: Does Suzanna ride? Faith: She rides like she was born on a horse. She tells us she’s going to be Champion Jokey one day. She helps in the stable at every opportunity and goes out with the string on her pony. Suzie: Not by herself? Faith: No. Her dad or I are with her. She has what Alana calls grit. Suzie: I’ll look out for her. Faith laughed: Knowing Suzanna, she’ll get there. Suzie: Are all the West children as feisty as Suzanna? Faith: You could say that. I have no idea where they get it from. Suzie Rolled her eyes: I think I know. Plans for more children? Faith laughed: Yes, but that’s all I’m saying. Suzie: Do I take that to mean you’re pregnant? Faith sighed: Suzie, stop grinning. I’m saying nothing. Suzie: Dan and Ellie must be ecstatic about their growing band of grandchildren. Faith: You could say that. Dad won’t be happy until we give him a football team. Suzie: Is he a hands-on grandfather? Faith: Oh yes. Both he and Ellie adore their grandchildren. They’re given equal attention, even those who don’t reside in Colorado. I’ve never seen him so happy. Suzie: Has the family recovered from that trouble back in 2023? I believe a number of you were injured. Faith: Thanks for asking. It was a terrible time, but we’re all good now. Life throws curve balls sometimes, but our lives are richer because of that one. Suzie: So, the curve ball wasn’t Caroline’s curse theory. Faith laughed: No way. She has an active imagination. Suzie: I always found her theories fascinating. But you have to agree that, as a family, you’ve had your fair share of bad luck. Faith: I don’t look at it like that. It’s part of life’s journey. The Wests and Cliffords stand up for their beliefs; sometimes, that stance brings problems. I reckon we’re looking at a few years of peace. Suzie: Let’s hope so. Next time, if you or your family are with you, don’t be shy and drop in. We love catching up on your latest adventures. Faith: Watch what you wish for. I’m not sure your studio is big enough for my lot. Thanks again, Suzie. It’s been fun. Suzie: That was Faith West. I hope you enjoyed our informal chat. Until next time, stay safe. Dear friends, It’s been a busy few months since my last newsletter. My time has been spent editing book six of the West Series, Deliverance and travelling. For the second time this year I headed to the northern hemisphere, this time to Iceland, the Faroe Islands, Scotland, and the Lake District. I’m constantly drawn to that part of the world. It might be because of the Scandinavian blood pulsing through my veins. I could only have received it from the Viking raids on the east coast of the UK. The main percentage of my Viking blood is Danish with a small amount of Norwegian. The reason I know this is that I had my DNA tested. It’s interesting what you learn about yourself. When I travel, I’m looking for places to set stories. Faroe Islands, Iceland and Scotland didn’t disappoint. The Lakes District was beautiful, too, but the rugged, dramatic scenery of the other places grabbed me. With a population of just under 400,000, Iceland is experiencing a surge in tourist numbers. They’ve climbed from 500,000 a year to 2.5 million. They’re frantically building hotels to accommodate the influx, but money needs to go into the airport, which is struggling to cope. If you ever decide to visit, you won’t be disappointed though as it was spectacular. The Faroes, with its population of 55,000, was quieter and less crowded, which I preferred. They also have a small airport, and I can’t see how they can cope with many tourists. Firstly, the airport only takes small jets. It’s challenging to get around unless on a guided tour, and they don’t have the infrastructure for staying remote. But I think it puts them in the enviable position of controlling their tourism numbers. From a writer’s perspective, I found the Faroe history fascinating. They were first settled by Irish monks in the 6th century, but the Norse began arriving in the early 800s. The islands became part of the Kingdom of Norway in 1035. In 1380, Norway and the Faroe Islands joined the Kingdom of Denmark. The administration of the Islands gradually shifted from Norway to Denmark. In 1814, the Treaty of Kiel dissolved the union between Norway and Denmark, leaving the Faroe Islands under Danish sovereignty. The Faroe Islands were administered as a Danish county from 1816 to 1948. In 1948, they became self-governing under the Home Rule Act. The Faroese people are proud they have autonomy over their internal affairs, speak their own language and are ahead of the rest of the world in fish farming. There is much to love about the place. What grabbed me besides the scenery was the Selkie folklore stories, and by the time we left, a seed was sprouting. From the Faroes, we travelled to Scotland. It’s only a couple of hour’s plane journey and a popular destination for Faroese as a shopping destination. What I found interesting was that Scotland, Ireland and Iceland also have Selkie stories. All with a similar theme: seals coming ashore and changing into humans. The stories about selkie and human interaction grabbed my attention. The selkies are supposed to be friendly and helpful to humans but can also be dangerous and vengeful—those traits alone give scope when writing. They’re depicted as attractive and seductive in human form, and many stories involve selkies having romantic or sexual relationships with humans, sometimes resulting in children. Selkies can be tricked or coerced into marrying humans, usually by someone who steals and hides their seal skin, preventing them from returning to the sea. Such marriages are often unhappy as the selkie longs for the sea and may eventually escape once they find their skin. The Legend of Køpakonan is a Faroese story about one such selkie trapped in an unhappy marriage. She bides her time until reclaiming her skin and returning to sea. Her human husband, however, hunts her seal husband and children down, killing them. She seeks revenge and curses the people and their descendants. The selkie stories stretch the imagination, and I’m playing with a modern theme with an undercurrent of fantasy/shapeshifting. The selkie stories are so believable that it’s hard not to believe they’re real. Perhaps they are! More about Shattered Façade later. The West Series continues with the fifth book, Resurrection, released in September. This one is set in Scotland (it seems I can’t help myself with location). The blurb for those interested: Alana West is starring in a movie about the Jacobite Uprising. Filming is almost complete when a world pandemic sees the film crew in lockdown at a farmhouse in the small town of Drumnadrochit on Loch Ness. Fergus Frazer hosts cast members and is shocked when he meets Alana. She is his wife’s doppelganger. Elspeth died six years ago, and the perpetrator is still at large. When the police pull another female body from Loch Ness and learn how she met her fate, Fergus becomes their number one suspect. Initially, at odds, Fergus and Alana give in to the chemistry that draws them together. However, forces are working behind the scenes to keep them apart, and when Fergus ends up in custody, Alana must unravel past and present events to clear his name. It seems the West family attract trouble wherever they travel. A reviewer of Resurrection said: The best yet! Don’t miss the series. Available through Amazon: Destiny, Providence, Redemption, Survival and Resurrection. Coming soon: Deliverance, Tempest and Reckoning. Stay tuned for release dates. If you’re looking for an action-packed adventure series set in Peru, Australia and the US, I have my two-book series, El Alto and Return to Alto. And for those who love horses: Racing Dream, Racing Time and Racing Fate. The racing series is in South Australia. And I haven’t forgotten you car enthusiasts: Second Chance, set in the Flinders Ranges. All my books except the El Alto series are stand-alone, suspense stories with romantic elements. The El Alto series is an adventure love story. I can’t believe where the year has gone, but here we are again, looking down the barrel toward Christmas. I wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a very happy New Year. Until next year-- Suzie Dear friends, Welcome to the June newsletter. For something a little different, we invited Dan West to Independent Broadcast Studios, Balhannah, for a chat. This interview was recorded earlier in the week with local celebrity Suzie Hindmarsh-Knights. Introduction Dan West – Patriarch, a self-made person, cattle & horse breeder, lives in Denver, Colorado, with his family. He has married and buried three wives and carries guilt over a shooting incident that nearly saw the death of his youngest son Oliver. Suzie: “Morning, Dan, take a seat.” Dan: Hi, Suzie. Lovely to meet you again. You’re looking well.” Suzie: “Thanks. You’re not looking bad yourself. We’ve turned the weather on for your visit, but then you know about our hot, dry climate here in South Australia as you travel here often. I believe you have mining interests?” Dan: “Yeah. Love Australia. We holiday in Coober Pedy at least once a year. As you know, my wife’s father lives and works there, and we have interests in a couple of mines, so it draws us back for many reasons.” Suzie: “Did you make your fortune in opal?” Dan: “Depends on what you mean by fortune.” He grinned. “I was young when I first ventured into opal mining. I earned enough to buy back the family home from the bank. I turned my family fortune around and made my money work for me. My mines are still profitable, so I guess I’m one of the lucky ones.” Suzie: “You said you were young. Wealth isn’t easy to manage at the best times, but it can be tricky when young. How did you manage it?” Dan: Laughs. “I didn’t. I went off the deep end. I got drawn in with the wrong types who saw an easy mark and took advantage. I learned the hard way you can’t trust everyone.” Suzie: “You became a hunter?” Dan: Sigh. “Unfortunately, yes. If I could change one thing, it would be that. Lucky for me, I met my first wife. She sorted me out, and I never looked back.” Suzie: “You married four times. Three of your wives died in tragic circumstances. You met your fourth wife, Ellie, in British Columbia, and I believe it wasn’t love at first sight.” Dan: “I wouldn't go as far as to say that. She was in denial. She took me on a journey, that’s for sure. She learned of my past and wasn’t impressed. Her family are animal activists—” Suzie: “I believe you also followed that road.” Dan: “Yes, and it’s been so worthwhile. I’m trying to give something back after my unfortunate past. Anyway, back to Ellie, I eventually wore her down. It took twenty years for her to come into my life. I didn’t believe I could be lucky enough to meet another woman I’d want to marry. But when I met Ellie, I knew she was the one. We’ve been married for a few years now.” Suzie: “And happy?” Dan: “Oh God, yes. I love her to the moon and back. I’ve loved and lost three amazing women and was lucky to find my soulmate at a time I’d resigned myself to being alone.” Suzie: “That’s good to hear. Tell me, Dan, how did you deal with losing three wives?” Dan: “It’s never easy losing a loved one. For me, to lose three was heart breaking. But out of those marriages came children. They needed me and gave me purpose.” Suzie: “Talking of children. Whatever possessed you to have six?” Dan: Laughs. “Having two sets of twins certainly upped the ante. But I wouldn’t have changed any of it. I’d have had more if fate hadn’t intervened. My kids are as different as night and day, but their mothers would be proud of the people they’ve turned out to be.” Suzie: “Tell me about your kids.” Dan: “How long have you got.” Laughs. “Heath is the eldest. Firstborns bear all the responsibility of those that follow. He’s steadfast, solid as they come. He’s always had my back. He runs the ranch—” Suzie: “Married?” Dan: “He has a sweetheart, and when the time is right, I’m sure they’ll tie the knot. Jamie came next. He also carried much of the burden of younger siblings. Heath and his brother are tight. As a child, Jamie saw himself as Sherlock Holmes. He’s ventured into detective work and taken on more than he bargained for. I hope he’ll eventually tire of it and return to help Heath. Then we have my twin girls.” Smiles. “Caroline and Alana, who are opposites in everything. Alana was an adventurous child growing up. She learned to ride before she could barely walk. She worked on the ranch from an early age. When she’s not around it’s like losing three staff. Caroline is a homemaker. She can ride as well as her sister, but ranching isn’t her thing. She’ll marry and produce her own tribe. Alana had a chip on her shoulder about our wealth. She proved to the naysayer that she could make it without her old man’s help.” Laughs. “She had a passion for acting for a time and succeeded in many pursuits on her terms. Then we have Joe and Oliver, my youngest.” Sigh. “Joe is headstrong, and his brother Oli would have followed him into battle if Joe commanded it. They’re close, especially after a gun accident nearly took Oli’s life. Joe carried the guilt of that day for many years. Kids! He disobeyed me and took his brother's shooting badly. So, Suzie, you have kids?” Suzie: “No, I couldn’t stand the pressure. Tell me about your current wife, Ellie. How does she deal with your tribe?” Dan: “Nothing much deters Ellie. My girls and their young brothers did their utmost to convince her marrying me was a terrible idea. She turned things around with them. After saving Joe’s life, things improved. Now they’re tight.” Suzie: “Have you considered having a child together?” Dan: “No, it won’t happen. If we’d met earlier, we may have considered it. But Ellie is in her mid-forties, and I’m mid-fifties. We’ll hang in there and wait for the kids to produce grandchildren. Ellie has two daughters, Faith, and Charlotte, who are, funnily enough, twins. We’re blessed. Faith married Oliver and Charlotte, James.” Suzie: “They married their stepbrothers?” Dan: “Not unusual, considering they’d only met the last few years. So, between the eight of them, something should happen soon.” Suzie: “I’ve heard you often talk about one of your closest friends who is more like a son—” Dan: “You’re talking about Hank. He was young when he came to work for me. He quickly became someone I could trust. He’s one of the family.” Suzie: “Time is running out. Is there anything you’d like to add before we finish?” Dan: “Only to tell your readers and listeners to follow their dreams. Life is precious, and it doesn’t matter how difficult things might seem, we can change our circumstances for the better if we want to. Thanks, Suzie, for the chat. We hope to see you in Denver sometime in the future. Suzie: “Thanks, Dan, give my regards to Ellie and the family.” Thanks go to Dan West for dropping in for an informal chat. How about we get one of his kids in next time? Follow Dan’s story in the West Series, the first book being Destiny. I will sign off here and be back with the September newsletter. So, until next time, stay safe. Suzie All Suzie’s books are available through your local Amazon site and through Kindle Unlimited. Dear friends, Welcome to the first newsletter for 2024. I hope Christmas and the New Year were filled with family, friends, merriment and that 2024 has started well for everyone. The Festive Season and New Year celebrations seem a distant memory now. For us, the celebrations went on into January, the 26th being our national holiday to celebrate Australia Day. A recent news item grabbed my attention when Police in Sydney, New South Wales, busted a criminal syndicate planning to export hundreds of lizards to Hong Kong illegally. The police found these poor creatures concealed in chip packets, handbags, and cereal containers. By coincidence, Book 4 of the West Series, Survival, (released February 2024) is about animal trafficking in this part of the world. Charlotte Clifford is working to finish her degree at a wildlife park in Far North Queensland when she unwittingly becomes involved in illegally exporting Australian wildlife to Hong Kong. Jamie West is investigating the wildlife park. Jamie and Charlotte work to bring the perpetrators to justice. If you have read – Destiny, Book 1 of the West Series, you’ll be familiar with the Australian outback opal mining town of Coober Pedy where Dan West finds Ellie after they part company at the Bear Lodge in British Columbia. Coober Pedy has always fascinated me. It’s like you’ve left Earth to visit some far-flung planet. I’ve never understood its fascination to those who live there. The land is barren, hot and opal has never done it for me. It wasn’t until a friend decided to live, work, and marry an opal miner invited us to stay there. Meeting some of the locals I began to understand the appeal Coober Pedy has on people. Rubbing shoulders with the locals spiked my imagination. I saw not only how mining becomes a drug but also how hard it is on the body. Add a harsh climate, the peril of falling into open shafts, and little water; you have an excellent setting for a story. Estimates are that more than 1.5 million open shafts dot the area. Again, another news item caught my attention. A 47-year-old man fell down an abandoned thirty-metre (100 ft) opal mine shaft. His wife alerted the authorities after he didn’t return home, he was found 24 hours later. Country Fire Service (CFS) volunteers and the Coober Pedy Mine Rescue squad took three hours to pull him out of the mine. He was lucky only to suffer multiple broken bones. Most people don’t survive the fall, and many are never found. Tourists often laugh at the quirky signs dotted around the Coober Pedy region. They tell the unsuspecting person to watch where they put their feet. If you ever visit, take heed. I will sign off here and be back with the June newsletter. So, until next time, stay safe. Suzie Dear friends, |
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September 2025
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