For much of my time traveling (timetraveling hehe), I've been wondering the answer to one question that has plagued me, where are all the Americans? I've met a good number of Canadians, Scots, Irish, Germans, Brits, and Dutch, but Americans seem as rare as the colossal squid. When starting the classic conversation with other travelers, "How long have you been in Australia? Where are you from?" After saying I'm from the states, most remark that I'm the first they've met here.
What is it about Americans and Australia? Not many people I've met back home have visited here; I can only think of three off the top of my head. Is it the "danger" of Australia, with its venomous everything, gaping hole in the ozone layers, and constant threat of being bashed by the locals? Whatever it is, the rest of Europe and Canada are getting completely different messages about this country than us. Maybe Australia is trying to scare us away, because they know we'll love it too much. Australia is a lot like Billy Carter, that little brother who drinks too much beer, has too much fun, but when you give him a chance, you can't help loving the guy.
Well, as much for having the interesting anecdote of "You know, after a whole year in Australia, I've met not one American when traveling." would have been great, I finally did meet some of the elusive yanks yesterday. At the lighthouse of Byron Bay, I heard an accent that sounded vaguely familiar. Now, you have to realize, barring conversations with friends and family back home, I've not heard Americans speak in five months. Everyone talks with an accent to me, so I have trouble getting my head straight. Aussie is the only accent that sounds normal to me. For one though, I heard speech that was warm and comforting. "Are you American or Canadian?" I asked. How sad is it that I can't even tell the difference anymore; they both just sound North American.
"American." They replied.
I stared in awe! "You are the first Americans I've met in five months being in this country!"
"Where are you from?" they asked.
"Minnesota."
"Us too!"
Wow, I can't even smell my own kind. After a second of chatting, it all came back, the funny vowels, weird intonations...ah Minnesotan.
Later that day, I met a couple girls from Kansas. Then again, I heard some more Americans talking the kitchen of my hostel. They were quite annoying. I can see why people don't like us very much. So apparently, there are American here, they are just surfing at Byron Bay.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The City
After months of living in either rural or semi-urban communities, I realized during my visit to Brisbane a truth about myself: I've outgrown the city. Clara City and its tiny, boring atmosphere killed much of my love for small towns for a while. The move to Minneapolis was exhilarating. There was always activity, life, and noise. I went to next level when I started working and thriving in the incredibly fast-paced downtown environment. Now, I am a high energy person and I love the stress and constant distractions of the city. I am beginning to see at being too much.
What I would love to find is a happy medium between the two extremes. Something relaxed, quiet, but with a job that is stimulating. This is not a calling for the soulless suburban life, commuting to the city for a ride in the rat race. I would like to live in a small city, between 100,000-200,000 in population. A place with all the opportunities of the city, but with a quiet, closer to rural atmosphere. Sure, I'll miss the access to exotic cooking ingredients and mysterious ethnic foods. I will miss knowing that there is always a bar or a store open if I ever get the whim at 2:00 AM to do something (Although, I can count on one hand the number of times I've had that whim in my seven years of city residency.) I won't miss the sirens, high crime rates, and annoying confinement to the sidewalk. Maybe this is a part of being older. At a certain age, the city must just lose its appeal.
What I would love to find is a happy medium between the two extremes. Something relaxed, quiet, but with a job that is stimulating. This is not a calling for the soulless suburban life, commuting to the city for a ride in the rat race. I would like to live in a small city, between 100,000-200,000 in population. A place with all the opportunities of the city, but with a quiet, closer to rural atmosphere. Sure, I'll miss the access to exotic cooking ingredients and mysterious ethnic foods. I will miss knowing that there is always a bar or a store open if I ever get the whim at 2:00 AM to do something (Although, I can count on one hand the number of times I've had that whim in my seven years of city residency.) I won't miss the sirens, high crime rates, and annoying confinement to the sidewalk. Maybe this is a part of being older. At a certain age, the city must just lose its appeal.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Brisbane
I arrived in Brisbane late on Monday night. Most of the hostels were packed full of people, but thankfully I found one that had an opening. Sadly, it was a crappy one. It did have air conditioning, which was a definite plus. It was also across the street from the nightlife hub for Brisbane. On the downside, it was dirty, uncomfortable, had a unhappy atmosphere, and only 1/10 showers actually worked.
Brisbane, at first, just seemed like another city, with nothing too special about it. I came here for work, but after meeting many people who'd been here for weeks and have found nothing. I quickly started planning my mistake. The big reason for me to move on is my RSA certification. It only applies for New South Wales, so I would have to take a course if I wanted any work in hospitality. My planned escape was to Byron Bay, but it is such a popular destination this time of year, all hostels were booked until the end of next weekend. Thus trapping me here for a week.
It turned out to be not such a bad deal. Jess's brother and his girlfriend had just moved here from Broken Hill, so I spent a couple evenings with them. On both Wednesday and Thursday night, I hit up some karaoke and had a blast. Upon exploring the town and its many parks, I found it to be quite pleasant in the end. The botanical gardens were beautiful!
Today, I explored the many free museums the town had to offer. The Gallery of Modern art was fantastic. Often, much modern art can turn me off, but they had many works that I really enjoyed. The main gallery was a bit disappointing. The Queensland museum (combination history and science museum) was also entertaining. I also finally purchased a new camera!
For the last three days, I've been staying at a different hostel. It is nicer, but the rooms have no A/C. Since I've had a cold for the last three days, the no A/C hurts. I moved mainly because I wanted to be closer to the train station for my 6:30 AM departure. The other one was a 30 minute walk away. This current one is only 5.
I know I will be stopping back through in a week, so I'll be able to get more photos then. One of the things I still need to do is take the ferry from the ocean back to city, which apparently has a spectacular view of the city.
Brisbane, at first, just seemed like another city, with nothing too special about it. I came here for work, but after meeting many people who'd been here for weeks and have found nothing. I quickly started planning my mistake. The big reason for me to move on is my RSA certification. It only applies for New South Wales, so I would have to take a course if I wanted any work in hospitality. My planned escape was to Byron Bay, but it is such a popular destination this time of year, all hostels were booked until the end of next weekend. Thus trapping me here for a week.
It turned out to be not such a bad deal. Jess's brother and his girlfriend had just moved here from Broken Hill, so I spent a couple evenings with them. On both Wednesday and Thursday night, I hit up some karaoke and had a blast. Upon exploring the town and its many parks, I found it to be quite pleasant in the end. The botanical gardens were beautiful!
Today, I explored the many free museums the town had to offer. The Gallery of Modern art was fantastic. Often, much modern art can turn me off, but they had many works that I really enjoyed. The main gallery was a bit disappointing. The Queensland museum (combination history and science museum) was also entertaining. I also finally purchased a new camera!
For the last three days, I've been staying at a different hostel. It is nicer, but the rooms have no A/C. Since I've had a cold for the last three days, the no A/C hurts. I moved mainly because I wanted to be closer to the train station for my 6:30 AM departure. The other one was a 30 minute walk away. This current one is only 5.
I know I will be stopping back through in a week, so I'll be able to get more photos then. One of the things I still need to do is take the ferry from the ocean back to city, which apparently has a spectacular view of the city.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Have a safe flight!
Here is fictional short story I wrote on the plane. I don't really have anywhere else to save it, so it get to be on my blog. Lucky you.
Have a Safe Flight!
I only waited in the security line for ten minutes before reaching the formidable metal detectors.
"Take all the metal our you pockets and put them in the tray please."
"Will coins make this thing beep?"
"No sir, they shouldn't." The security guard had the typical bulge just above his belt, as if he stuffed a throw pillow into his button up, and tucked it into his pants. This was as intimidating as his nightstick. I could easily outrun him if it came down to it.
"What about my belt?" I asked
"Nope, should be good, mate."
"Good." My pants were too loose to stay up by themselves.
"Do you have any explosives in your bag?"
"No."
"Lighter."
"No." I lied. After a two hour flight, I wasn't about to delay my smoke any longer, having to track down a lighter at an airport.
"Put your bag on the belt please."
I followed his instructions, walked through the floating gray doorway, stopped just outside of it, waiting for that beep that always hits me when I'm sure I'm metal free. No beep. Lighter passes through fine. This Australian security is quite lax. My 1.5 liter bottle of water even passed unquestioned. What if I filled it with gasoline? I needed not take off my potential shoes bombs either. In fact, my Gillette Mach 5 Turbo even made it through. They're damn lucky I'm not a terrorist; I could easily take this plane down.
I sat in the uncomfortable terminal chairs, ate my $8 croissant, and listened to whatever random crap popped onto my iPod until boarding. I didn't shut if off going through the line. The stewardess was obviously annoyed, but looking back, I wasn't the only one stuck in my own white headphoned world.
I found my seat, reclined back and grabbed the appropriately titled Navigator out the mesh pouch. Nothing interesting. Sudoku already finished, incorrectly, as were the other in the neighboring two seats. I sat back and closed my eyes.
I heard the loud ding and opened my eyes. A stewardess, or I should say "steward" held a detached seat belt and started demonstrating how it works. Who doesn't know how to work a seat belt? Exits are on the sides and back, just follow the track lights. Put on the oxygen mask if the cabin pressure drops. Safety vests are under the seat. Pull the string, it magically inflates! Blow into the tube if it doesn't work. I kept my eyes closed, imagining Jim mouth the words I knew so well.
One song later, felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the same stewardess form the gate, Maggie. Her lips moved and I nodded, then closed my eyes again. Another tap. I pulled the right bud out and actually listened.
"Sorry sir, you need to put your seat up for take-off."
"Oh, sorry."
"And sir."
"Yes?"
"You have to turn your music off."
"Why?"
"It can interfere with our navigation systems."
"What? So instead of hearing instructions from control, they'll hear U2 instead?"
She smiled a smile of hate, then turned her head slightly to the left, squinting her eyes a little. "It is just a safety procedure we have to follow."
"Alright. I'll do it for you, Maggie, because you asked so nicely."
"Thank you, sir."
She's going to give me a Diet Coke instead of regular, I could tell. She waited while I put my iPod away and put the seat up. The moment she wandered to the back to do whatever they do back there, I put my seat back down and took my iPod out again and returned to my melodic world.
The flight took off as usual, things were fine for about five minutes. At the point when we reached the fluffy, pillow clouds like those on the toilet paper packaging, I heard a pop. I looked down and saw my backpack was on fire. Odd, cabin pressure really can make lighters explode. Within seconds, my magazine, Jame Patterson novel, and a word search book must have ignited, because the small fire had grown to engulf my entire pack.
The red-eye flight was mostly empty, so I hoped nobody noticed the smoke pouring from my bag. I stomped with my feet, but it did little to stop the mini-inferno now spreading up the seat in front of me. Suddenly a loud beep churned in over my music, the lights went dim. My attempts of being incognito failed. Maggie and Jim rushed over, bearing red cans. I was soon covered in white goo. I wiped it off my face in time for the yellow oxygen masks to fall from above me. I put my mask on, but the bag didn't inflate.
"Is it working? The bag won't inflate!" I asked Jim, Maggie, or whoever else might be listening.
Maggie answered, "Yes! the bag doesn't need to inflate. We explained that!"
A godly voice poured in through the cabin. "Everybody stay calm, there has been small cabin fire, but it has been extinguished. We are preparing for an emergency landing. Stay calm. There should be no problem."
I could tell in his too-calm voice that there was in fact a problem. In the background of his speech, I distinctly heard the same song, same notes, same lyrics as the music still pumping through the white bud in left ear.
We started heading down. The plane lurched forward and I felt the bump and heard the crack as the person behind me hit his head in my still reclined chair. A baby behind me was screaming. A man in front of me was screaming in the same way. The plane continued tilting forward at an angle much too steep to be normal. I put myself in what I thought was the "brace position" and closed my eyes and continued listening to my music. Soon, my popping ears drowned out all sound. I think I got the bends. Can a person get the bends from a falling plane?
Seconds, years later. I felt the thud as the plane hit the water. I smacked me into insufficient padding on the seat in front of me. Besides that, I think I was ok.
I reached below the seat for my much needed life jacket, but it wasn't quite where I expected it to be. Feeling the underside of my seat hoping to find anything rubber or plastic, I finally felt a velcro pouch. I ripped it open grabbed the vest and put it on, pulling the strings. It puffed up instantly. Magic. We were safe on the water and I knew I had a fun ride down the rubber slide. I grabbed a smoke from my pocket and lit in the mostly dead embers of my charred backpack. I looked around and searched for the nearest exit, but I couldn't find the track lights anywhere. I should have counted the seats instead.
They'll blame me for this, I know. I blame the lax security, the man hoarding a pillow in his shirt, hoping a nightstick will scare me.
Have a Safe Flight!
I only waited in the security line for ten minutes before reaching the formidable metal detectors.
"Take all the metal our you pockets and put them in the tray please."
"Will coins make this thing beep?"
"No sir, they shouldn't." The security guard had the typical bulge just above his belt, as if he stuffed a throw pillow into his button up, and tucked it into his pants. This was as intimidating as his nightstick. I could easily outrun him if it came down to it.
"What about my belt?" I asked
"Nope, should be good, mate."
"Good." My pants were too loose to stay up by themselves.
"Do you have any explosives in your bag?"
"No."
"Lighter."
"No." I lied. After a two hour flight, I wasn't about to delay my smoke any longer, having to track down a lighter at an airport.
"Put your bag on the belt please."
I followed his instructions, walked through the floating gray doorway, stopped just outside of it, waiting for that beep that always hits me when I'm sure I'm metal free. No beep. Lighter passes through fine. This Australian security is quite lax. My 1.5 liter bottle of water even passed unquestioned. What if I filled it with gasoline? I needed not take off my potential shoes bombs either. In fact, my Gillette Mach 5 Turbo even made it through. They're damn lucky I'm not a terrorist; I could easily take this plane down.
I sat in the uncomfortable terminal chairs, ate my $8 croissant, and listened to whatever random crap popped onto my iPod until boarding. I didn't shut if off going through the line. The stewardess was obviously annoyed, but looking back, I wasn't the only one stuck in my own white headphoned world.
I found my seat, reclined back and grabbed the appropriately titled Navigator out the mesh pouch. Nothing interesting. Sudoku already finished, incorrectly, as were the other in the neighboring two seats. I sat back and closed my eyes.
I heard the loud ding and opened my eyes. A stewardess, or I should say "steward" held a detached seat belt and started demonstrating how it works. Who doesn't know how to work a seat belt? Exits are on the sides and back, just follow the track lights. Put on the oxygen mask if the cabin pressure drops. Safety vests are under the seat. Pull the string, it magically inflates! Blow into the tube if it doesn't work. I kept my eyes closed, imagining Jim mouth the words I knew so well.
One song later, felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the same stewardess form the gate, Maggie. Her lips moved and I nodded, then closed my eyes again. Another tap. I pulled the right bud out and actually listened.
"Sorry sir, you need to put your seat up for take-off."
"Oh, sorry."
"And sir."
"Yes?"
"You have to turn your music off."
"Why?"
"It can interfere with our navigation systems."
"What? So instead of hearing instructions from control, they'll hear U2 instead?"
She smiled a smile of hate, then turned her head slightly to the left, squinting her eyes a little. "It is just a safety procedure we have to follow."
"Alright. I'll do it for you, Maggie, because you asked so nicely."
"Thank you, sir."
She's going to give me a Diet Coke instead of regular, I could tell. She waited while I put my iPod away and put the seat up. The moment she wandered to the back to do whatever they do back there, I put my seat back down and took my iPod out again and returned to my melodic world.
The flight took off as usual, things were fine for about five minutes. At the point when we reached the fluffy, pillow clouds like those on the toilet paper packaging, I heard a pop. I looked down and saw my backpack was on fire. Odd, cabin pressure really can make lighters explode. Within seconds, my magazine, Jame Patterson novel, and a word search book must have ignited, because the small fire had grown to engulf my entire pack.
The red-eye flight was mostly empty, so I hoped nobody noticed the smoke pouring from my bag. I stomped with my feet, but it did little to stop the mini-inferno now spreading up the seat in front of me. Suddenly a loud beep churned in over my music, the lights went dim. My attempts of being incognito failed. Maggie and Jim rushed over, bearing red cans. I was soon covered in white goo. I wiped it off my face in time for the yellow oxygen masks to fall from above me. I put my mask on, but the bag didn't inflate.
"Is it working? The bag won't inflate!" I asked Jim, Maggie, or whoever else might be listening.
Maggie answered, "Yes! the bag doesn't need to inflate. We explained that!"
A godly voice poured in through the cabin. "Everybody stay calm, there has been small cabin fire, but it has been extinguished. We are preparing for an emergency landing. Stay calm. There should be no problem."
I could tell in his too-calm voice that there was in fact a problem. In the background of his speech, I distinctly heard the same song, same notes, same lyrics as the music still pumping through the white bud in left ear.
We started heading down. The plane lurched forward and I felt the bump and heard the crack as the person behind me hit his head in my still reclined chair. A baby behind me was screaming. A man in front of me was screaming in the same way. The plane continued tilting forward at an angle much too steep to be normal. I put myself in what I thought was the "brace position" and closed my eyes and continued listening to my music. Soon, my popping ears drowned out all sound. I think I got the bends. Can a person get the bends from a falling plane?
Seconds, years later. I felt the thud as the plane hit the water. I smacked me into insufficient padding on the seat in front of me. Besides that, I think I was ok.
I reached below the seat for my much needed life jacket, but it wasn't quite where I expected it to be. Feeling the underside of my seat hoping to find anything rubber or plastic, I finally felt a velcro pouch. I ripped it open grabbed the vest and put it on, pulling the strings. It puffed up instantly. Magic. We were safe on the water and I knew I had a fun ride down the rubber slide. I grabbed a smoke from my pocket and lit in the mostly dead embers of my charred backpack. I looked around and searched for the nearest exit, but I couldn't find the track lights anywhere. I should have counted the seats instead.
They'll blame me for this, I know. I blame the lax security, the man hoarding a pillow in his shirt, hoping a nightstick will scare me.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Going Solo
Today, I will be heading off solo again. My original plan was to head North to Cairns to snorkel the Great Barrier Reef and tour some of the vast rain forests of Queensland. The unending rain however has been causing massive flooding in that area, so many of my plans would be day to day. Instead, I decided to head south where it is more dry, find some work and allow my shoulder to finish healing and the wet season to end. Only three more weeks of being a gimp!
There was a great bus pass, Brisbane to Cairns, unlimited stops for 6 months for $250. Upon further inspection though, the pass is one directional, with no backtracking, even by plane. Since I'm already 3/4 of the way up the coast, this is quite annoying. Going to Cairns is the most efficient plan of action, but the weather has killed that idea. Now, I will have to fly south to Brisbane, then fly north again to Cairns and tour my way down the coast. In the end this is costing me an additional $200 for flights all over the place, which I'm not too happy about.
My Australia budget is getting down to scrapings and I may have to tap into my savings back home. It is not a big loss, but I really didn't want to resort that at all. A job is at the top of priorities and hopefully, I can find one with my restrictions. Thankfully, Brisbane is a bustling city, which hopefully has lots of job options. Jess's brother Jonathan and his girlfriend Em have just moved there two weeks ago, so thankfully, I'll at least have two friends already in town. They don't really have a place to stay, but knowing people always helps.
Since I made this decision to go to Brisbane today, it has been quite hectic finding accommodation and flights. They have a cheap flight (hooray for last minute, "let's sell these seats discounts), but the website won't allow my credit card to go through. The flight leaves in six hours and I'm waiting now for a call from the airline to try to work this out. I'm so type-a, this day to day, and even worse, hour to hour planning is making me a little crazy. I just like to a good plan in place. This will be a learning experience for sure. Hello Brisbane!
There was a great bus pass, Brisbane to Cairns, unlimited stops for 6 months for $250. Upon further inspection though, the pass is one directional, with no backtracking, even by plane. Since I'm already 3/4 of the way up the coast, this is quite annoying. Going to Cairns is the most efficient plan of action, but the weather has killed that idea. Now, I will have to fly south to Brisbane, then fly north again to Cairns and tour my way down the coast. In the end this is costing me an additional $200 for flights all over the place, which I'm not too happy about.
My Australia budget is getting down to scrapings and I may have to tap into my savings back home. It is not a big loss, but I really didn't want to resort that at all. A job is at the top of priorities and hopefully, I can find one with my restrictions. Thankfully, Brisbane is a bustling city, which hopefully has lots of job options. Jess's brother Jonathan and his girlfriend Em have just moved there two weeks ago, so thankfully, I'll at least have two friends already in town. They don't really have a place to stay, but knowing people always helps.
Since I made this decision to go to Brisbane today, it has been quite hectic finding accommodation and flights. They have a cheap flight (hooray for last minute, "let's sell these seats discounts), but the website won't allow my credit card to go through. The flight leaves in six hours and I'm waiting now for a call from the airline to try to work this out. I'm so type-a, this day to day, and even worse, hour to hour planning is making me a little crazy. I just like to a good plan in place. This will be a learning experience for sure. Hello Brisbane!
Into the Bush at Cathu National Forest
Now is a great moment, for the first time in over a month, you are reading a real time blog, not transcriptions from my notebook yay! Let's hope I can keep up.
Yesterday, Jess, Faith, and I joined a bunch of Faith's friends for trek into the nearby Cathu National Forest. We were told it would be a 30 minute drive, but in reality, it was more like three hours. 30 minutes to the park, then a couple of hours 4wd trip through the bumpy, unmaintained roads of the park. The roads climbed a forested mountain. Thankfully, the vehicles were sound, so we did not have too much trouble with our journey. Our group was well prepared for this type of excursion. At some point, part of bridge had washed away. For most, this is a sign saying turn back, the going is too tough. Turns out, not even a missing bridge is enough to stop hardcore Aussies. From the back of the truck, Mick (how Aussie is that) pulled out a chainsaw and started chopping up fallen trees to make a log bridge. 45 minutes later, we moved past that seeming impassable obstacle and continued up the mountain.
The view from the top was well worth the trouble. There was a wonderful waterfall overlooking the valley and ocean below. We stopped and had lunch, then walked upstream to swim in a nearby pool. The water was cold, clear and wonderful, just the thing I needed on such a hot day. That's right, we had another day of sun! The god(s) have been good to us, providing sunshine on the few days when we had excursions planned.
Yesterday, Jess, Faith, and I joined a bunch of Faith's friends for trek into the nearby Cathu National Forest. We were told it would be a 30 minute drive, but in reality, it was more like three hours. 30 minutes to the park, then a couple of hours 4wd trip through the bumpy, unmaintained roads of the park. The roads climbed a forested mountain. Thankfully, the vehicles were sound, so we did not have too much trouble with our journey. Our group was well prepared for this type of excursion. At some point, part of bridge had washed away. For most, this is a sign saying turn back, the going is too tough. Turns out, not even a missing bridge is enough to stop hardcore Aussies. From the back of the truck, Mick (how Aussie is that) pulled out a chainsaw and started chopping up fallen trees to make a log bridge. 45 minutes later, we moved past that seeming impassable obstacle and continued up the mountain.
The view from the top was well worth the trouble. There was a wonderful waterfall overlooking the valley and ocean below. We stopped and had lunch, then walked upstream to swim in a nearby pool. The water was cold, clear and wonderful, just the thing I needed on such a hot day. That's right, we had another day of sun! The god(s) have been good to us, providing sunshine on the few days when we had excursions planned.
Airlie Beach
Jess, Glen, Faith, and I headed up to Airlie Beach a few days ago. Airlie Beach is a small tourist town with a perfect view of the Witsunday Islands. There really isn't much going on in the town but nightlife and tourism.
Our first day in the beautiful oceanside town was greeted with continuous downpour. This was quite disappointing given how much we paid for our hotel room. The others had plans to go jet boating, parasailing, and jet skiing, but the rain did little to encourage that. Our booking was for the next day, so we all crossed our fingers and hoped for the best.
That evening, we went out to see the nightlife of the town. We eventually settled for a club where Sneaky Sound System, a group Faith likes was playing. The previous night actually, we had seen them live in Mackay. The show was hot, muggy, the venue was terrible. None of us really had fun, so the idea of giving them another chance in Airlie seemed like a good idea. I am not proud of this, but the lax security let us just walk into the show without a ticket. Given how much we paid the previous night for their scant one hour set, we didn't feel too bad about it. The second night was much better, we could see, found a place to sit, and could enjoy the air conditioning.
We woke up the next morning to a perfectly clear and sunny day. The forecast said there'd be thunderstorms all day, so we were pleasantly surprised. The sun revealed the town to be quite beautiful. The others were able to do their parasailing and stuff. I spent the afternoon chilling out along the town's man-made lagoon. Surprisingly, in a town called Airlie Beach, most people were not on the beach. During the tropical wet season, dangerous jellyfish invade the waters, making ocean swimming quite dangerous. The lagoon was actually quite nice.
We left in the late afternoon. The second we hit the city limits, the downpour began anew. We were thankful for the one day of sunshine we were given.
Our first day in the beautiful oceanside town was greeted with continuous downpour. This was quite disappointing given how much we paid for our hotel room. The others had plans to go jet boating, parasailing, and jet skiing, but the rain did little to encourage that. Our booking was for the next day, so we all crossed our fingers and hoped for the best.
That evening, we went out to see the nightlife of the town. We eventually settled for a club where Sneaky Sound System, a group Faith likes was playing. The previous night actually, we had seen them live in Mackay. The show was hot, muggy, the venue was terrible. None of us really had fun, so the idea of giving them another chance in Airlie seemed like a good idea. I am not proud of this, but the lax security let us just walk into the show without a ticket. Given how much we paid the previous night for their scant one hour set, we didn't feel too bad about it. The second night was much better, we could see, found a place to sit, and could enjoy the air conditioning.
We woke up the next morning to a perfectly clear and sunny day. The forecast said there'd be thunderstorms all day, so we were pleasantly surprised. The sun revealed the town to be quite beautiful. The others were able to do their parasailing and stuff. I spent the afternoon chilling out along the town's man-made lagoon. Surprisingly, in a town called Airlie Beach, most people were not on the beach. During the tropical wet season, dangerous jellyfish invade the waters, making ocean swimming quite dangerous. The lagoon was actually quite nice.
We left in the late afternoon. The second we hit the city limits, the downpour began anew. We were thankful for the one day of sunshine we were given.
Mackay
Jess and I staying in Mackay for a couple of weeks. We will be visiting Jess's best friends Faith and Glen, who just moved here a little less than a year ago.
Mackay is a tropical sugar town about 3/4 of the way up the eastern coast. It is most famous or being a launching point for the popular Witsunday Islands.
Well into the tropics and in the middle of the wet season, every day has greeted us with lots of rain. Typically, or so I hear, it should be sunny for most of the day, with a daily two-hour shower in the later afternoon. A cyclone of the coast, however, has filled everyday with unbreaking overcast and constant rain. This is supossed to be a beautiful area, but the dismal gray of everything is not doing the city much justice. Though Clark, the guide from the Broome tour told me that Mackay is the worst city in the country. I think that is a little harsh.
The town is surrounded by rivers and green rainforest covered mountains. The lack of quality beaches hurts its tourist appeal, but it seems like a nice enough town. It has 80,000 people, but is quite huge since it is so spread out. Hopefully we'll see some sunshine!
Mackay is a tropical sugar town about 3/4 of the way up the eastern coast. It is most famous or being a launching point for the popular Witsunday Islands.
Well into the tropics and in the middle of the wet season, every day has greeted us with lots of rain. Typically, or so I hear, it should be sunny for most of the day, with a daily two-hour shower in the later afternoon. A cyclone of the coast, however, has filled everyday with unbreaking overcast and constant rain. This is supossed to be a beautiful area, but the dismal gray of everything is not doing the city much justice. Though Clark, the guide from the Broome tour told me that Mackay is the worst city in the country. I think that is a little harsh.
The town is surrounded by rivers and green rainforest covered mountains. The lack of quality beaches hurts its tourist appeal, but it seems like a nice enough town. It has 80,000 people, but is quite huge since it is so spread out. Hopefully we'll see some sunshine!
Friday, February 13, 2009
Next Leg
I left Broome and spent one last night with Erin in Perth. It was great to see here again after all these years. Even though we've barely spoken in the seven years since her departure from the states, it was as if no time had passed, except for her four year old daughter Chevy. I had a great time with her and Damian and I will definately keep in touch now.
The next morning I flew to Adelaide and stayed with Jess's Aunt Valmie and Uncle Steven. Sharon was there as well, which was great. After a month away, it was great to see my Aussie family again.
The next morning, Jess and I flew to Brisbane, then later to Mackay in Queensland. After four flights in three days, I managed to go from one end of Australia to the other.
The east coast will make the bulk of my future travels. I should be out here until June. Were I will go between then and now is unclear. I need to find work soon! Hopefully my shoulder won't limit me too much. Leg two of my travels has begun!
The next morning I flew to Adelaide and stayed with Jess's Aunt Valmie and Uncle Steven. Sharon was there as well, which was great. After a month away, it was great to see my Aussie family again.
The next morning, Jess and I flew to Brisbane, then later to Mackay in Queensland. After four flights in three days, I managed to go from one end of Australia to the other.
The east coast will make the bulk of my future travels. I should be out here until June. Were I will go between then and now is unclear. I need to find work soon! Hopefully my shoulder won't limit me too much. Leg two of my travels has begun!
Broome
Broome is a penninsular city in the northern corner of Western Australia. It marks the entrance to the Kimberly region, the wild river country of Australia's Northwest. To those who've seen the film Australia, this is where it takes place. Broome was set up as a pearl diving town adn was one of the only places in Australia attacked by the Japanese during World War 2. It is quite small, only 15,000 people, and most of the money comes from pearls and tourism.
Broome itself is a beautiful relaxed tropical town, but there is not a wealth of things to see, especially during the wet season. The main draw of the town is the world famous Cable Beach. In my life, I've seen some beautiful beaches, especially in the last ten days, but this one may be the prettiest. The sand is fine as corn meal and totally white. The beach stretches for ten miles. Most of the days were low tide, leaving meters of sand stretching into the vast Indian Ocean. This is considered one of the world's greatest places to see the sunset. The most famous activity is to ride a camel across the beach as the sun dips into the sea. I elected not to ride a camel because of my shoulder, but now I wish I had. Sadly, I only had a chance to view one sunset while I was there, and honestly it was a disappointing one. Don't get me wrong, it was incredible, but there weren't enough clouds to really make the colors pop. The previous night, from the taxi, we saw the sun set over land and it was breathtaking! I wished I was on the beach that night.
I didn't do too much but enjoy the company of my tour friends. I still had a fun time though. Even though it was only ten days, I'm really going to miss some my new friends. Thankfully, I have plans to meet up with Frank, Eline, and Mirte later on the east coast. I'm in the air now, heading back to Perth and onward.
Western Australia was amazing! I really wish I had given myself more than three weeks here. Yes, I know that I've seen so little of the country and the rest could be great too, but I can tell that Western Australia is someplace special. Seriously, come here! You will not be disappointed. If I get too bored out east, I guess I could come back.
Last Day of the Tour
Our last day was another driving day. On the way to Broome, we played the game where everyone writes a compliment about everyone else on sheet of a paper, then we read them aloud to the group. I found it scary that many of mine had statements like, "the least-irritating American I've ever met" and "for once, a good American". Yikes!
We arrived it Broom around three in the afternoon. After a quick drive by tour of the town, Clark dropped us off at our hostel. Eline, Mirte, Frank and I hit the beach and had a wade. My streak of bad luck continued during this wade. Mirte had disappeared to talk to her boyfriend on the friend, but we wanted to go to the beach. I agreed to bring my phone so we could give her a call and tell her what's up. On the way there, we found her, so I didn't even need my phone. Therefore, it was forgotten, the sole object in my pocket during my dip in the ocean. After a couple minutes, it started vibrating continuously in my pocket. I removed the battery and left it out to dry, in hope this would save its life. Unfortunately, during the night, the battery disappeared completely. A week later when I took it to the shop, it was dead. I had to buy a new one.
That night, we all met up for dinner and a party afterwards with the whole group. The tour was wonderful and worth every cent. I signed on to see the sights of Western Australia, but that easily took second place to the people on the tour. I've met so many wonderful friends on this trip, so really, it was the socializing that was the highlight. I met Eline and Mirte, two amazingly fun and beautiful Dutch women who I plan to rent a van with on the east coast later in the year. I also met Reelika, Frank, Steve, Catherine, and many others who I hope to keep in contact with long after this trip. Thank you facebook!
We arrived it Broom around three in the afternoon. After a quick drive by tour of the town, Clark dropped us off at our hostel. Eline, Mirte, Frank and I hit the beach and had a wade. My streak of bad luck continued during this wade. Mirte had disappeared to talk to her boyfriend on the friend, but we wanted to go to the beach. I agreed to bring my phone so we could give her a call and tell her what's up. On the way there, we found her, so I didn't even need my phone. Therefore, it was forgotten, the sole object in my pocket during my dip in the ocean. After a couple minutes, it started vibrating continuously in my pocket. I removed the battery and left it out to dry, in hope this would save its life. Unfortunately, during the night, the battery disappeared completely. A week later when I took it to the shop, it was dead. I had to buy a new one.
That night, we all met up for dinner and a party afterwards with the whole group. The tour was wonderful and worth every cent. I signed on to see the sights of Western Australia, but that easily took second place to the people on the tour. I've met so many wonderful friends on this trip, so really, it was the socializing that was the highlight. I met Eline and Mirte, two amazingly fun and beautiful Dutch women who I plan to rent a van with on the east coast later in the year. I also met Reelika, Frank, Steve, Catherine, and many others who I hope to keep in contact with long after this trip. Thank you facebook!
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Day Nine
One disadvantage of travelling vast expanses of the country is driving. We've been stopping at many places along the way, but many areas of WA are just empty stretches of nothing but cattle farms and mines. Sometimes 200km can pass with no services stations or any signs of life except for the occassional emu or dead kangaroo. Day nine was another of the dreaded driving days.
Our only "tourist" stop was the lovely Port Hedland, "Jewel of the Northwest". The city is BHP-Billiton's main depot for Australia's iron mining industry.
Quick digression: BHP-Billiton (Broken Hill Propriety-Billiton) is Australia's largest corporation. As the name implies, it started in Broken Hill as the main mining company and grew over the years to become the main opperators for the mining of Australia among other things. Since Australia's main industry is mining and don't hold me to this, but Australia may be the most productive mining country in the world, don't mess with BHP, they control the country. End Digression.
Port Hedland is one of the largest producers of salt in the world as well. Clark attempted to put some energy in the tour of this dead town with a little bit of Australia's famous sarcasm. "To your left is the Port Hedland cemetary, where lies the graves of such famous people as..." There were trains, ships, and a big ol' pile of sodium chloride. We stopped at cemetary beach. Aussies have a knack for appropriate names for their places. Their outdoor restroom had a toilet, a sink with no soap or hand dryer, and a condom machine. If this wasn't the only town between the two destinations, it probably would have been skipped.
We camped under the stars that night at a nearby cattle farm. This was our last official night together as a group, which was quite sad. Thankfully, many of are holed up in the same hostel in Broome, including Eline, Mirte, Anne, Hilde, Ann-Marie, our guides, Elaine,and Deirdrie. Most of us plan to tour Broome together the next day.
Our only "tourist" stop was the lovely Port Hedland, "Jewel of the Northwest". The city is BHP-Billiton's main depot for Australia's iron mining industry.
Quick digression: BHP-Billiton (Broken Hill Propriety-Billiton) is Australia's largest corporation. As the name implies, it started in Broken Hill as the main mining company and grew over the years to become the main opperators for the mining of Australia among other things. Since Australia's main industry is mining and don't hold me to this, but Australia may be the most productive mining country in the world, don't mess with BHP, they control the country. End Digression.
Port Hedland is one of the largest producers of salt in the world as well. Clark attempted to put some energy in the tour of this dead town with a little bit of Australia's famous sarcasm. "To your left is the Port Hedland cemetary, where lies the graves of such famous people as..." There were trains, ships, and a big ol' pile of sodium chloride. We stopped at cemetary beach. Aussies have a knack for appropriate names for their places. Their outdoor restroom had a toilet, a sink with no soap or hand dryer, and a condom machine. If this wasn't the only town between the two destinations, it probably would have been skipped.
We camped under the stars that night at a nearby cattle farm. This was our last official night together as a group, which was quite sad. Thankfully, many of are holed up in the same hostel in Broome, including Eline, Mirte, Anne, Hilde, Ann-Marie, our guides, Elaine,and Deirdrie. Most of us plan to tour Broome together the next day.
Day Eight
It was still unclear when we woke if it was to rain again or not. We had hit most of the lookouts already and everything else required no rain. Our backup plan was to head to the only town within 200 miles, Tom Price and tour a mine. I slept decently that night, using the bag from a box of wine as a pillow (a backpacker classic). Sleeping has been a struggle since my injury. Lying flat on the back is the only position that does not induce much pain, but I've yet to find a way to sleep that does not aggravate my shoulder. Also, the knot from my sling is right in the center of my back, so it constantly digs in. Let's just say that I've been admiring the various ceilings we've come across in the trip. Last night though, I did get some sleep. I had a warm cup of coffee and for the first time on the tour, a hot breakfast of bacon and eggs. I was feeling so great, a mine tour was sounding wonderful!
That night, we had a euchre tournament that didn't work too well from either lack of light or excessive mayflies. A few people lost interest after twenty minutes of explaining the game. Since I was well rested, I slept under the stars with Eline, Mirte, Steve, Frank, and Anne. The sky was magnificent, there was no light pollution at all in the secluded park. We all talked and wished on the shooting stars until our eyes were too heavy to keep open.
Clark and Dave called the park center to check on the conditions. Rain was still in the forecast, so it was highly recommended that we do not descend the gorge. There wasn't an rain for hours, so we couldn't be forced to not descend the gorge either. Any guess as to what our decision was?
We drove to Tom Price for the mine tour. The idea of imminent death from flash floods was too much to handle...
...In reality though, we descended the gorgeous gorges and hiked to a few nearby spring pools and waterfalls. The water was perfect, but quite deep and red form all the rain. I sat on the dock of one, feet dangling in the water, watching everyone swim and hang out under a gentle waterfall. Looking back, it was probably a bad idea, but I paid good money for this tour and I was not about to not have fun. I slipped into the water and backwards leg-paddled myself to the waterfall. My sling had already been soaked in the previous day's rainfall, so I was not too afraid of getting it wet anymore. It was fresh water after all. Thankfully, I did not hurt myself in the swim and the water was fantastic! It did stain my swim trunk lining red though.
Most of the day was spent hiking the bottom of the gorge, stopping occasionally to swim in a pool. I even drank so delicious spring water! It never rained the whole day, so there were no accidental deaths by flash flood.
That night, we had a euchre tournament that didn't work too well from either lack of light or excessive mayflies. A few people lost interest after twenty minutes of explaining the game. Since I was well rested, I slept under the stars with Eline, Mirte, Steve, Frank, and Anne. The sky was magnificent, there was no light pollution at all in the secluded park. We all talked and wished on the shooting stars until our eyes were too heavy to keep open. Thanks to Catherine and Mirte for the photos.
Tour Day Seven
It rained off and on all morning. I did not sleep at the night before, except for a couple of hours after the other tour group sharing my tent left. The aforementioned lack of organization landed me in a tent alone with the other tour. After they left though, I had the whole tent to myself. I use the term "tent" loosely. It was a tent, but it rested on a permanent wood floor and could comfortably seat eight people.
All the roads were flooded, so we had to walk. The rain had been on an hour on, hour off schedule, so after one shower stopped, we all headed off on a hike. This is Australia. Except for in Melbourne, I've only seen this dry country have rain three times. Bringing a rain parka was by no means a priority; it should have been. Right after leaving, it started sprinkling. Within minutes, it was raining. Soon after that, it was pouring. There were no trees, no shelters, just pure, unhindered rain. When it seemed as if it couldn't rain any harder, it poured down more. Raindrops can not be used to describe rain of this magnitude; rainballs is a much better noun for the type of rain we experienced. At first, we all sung songs by Stephen Foster, or rather, Camptown Races by Stephen Foster. Despite the immense joy that Steven Foster's music as well as excessive dropping of Stephen Foster's name gives me, our morale was annihilated as quickly as our dryness. I did not become not-miserable until every single inch of my clothing, inside and out, was soaked. By then, I didn't care; I actually started having fun. There was no way I could get any wetter than that, barring submersion in a pool.
Then the sun came out as we neared the gorge. It was worth every drop of water in my water-proofed shoes. The rugged deep red edges, stretching down into the green scrub forest below was awe-inspiring. We saw two more great lookouts and none did not impress. It didn't rain once for the rest of the day.
I hit the sack early in the tent instead of staying up and sleeping under the stars; I needed sleep a little too much.
The cyclone of the coast of Exmouth was sending a series of rain storms through Karajini. Many of the attractions of this gorgeous park revolved around hiking the into copious beautiful gorges and waterfalls. Rainstorms can flare up at a moments notice and cause deadly flash floods. There were a good number lookout above the gorges though.
All the roads were flooded, so we had to walk. The rain had been on an hour on, hour off schedule, so after one shower stopped, we all headed off on a hike. This is Australia. Except for in Melbourne, I've only seen this dry country have rain three times. Bringing a rain parka was by no means a priority; it should have been. Right after leaving, it started sprinkling. Within minutes, it was raining. Soon after that, it was pouring. There were no trees, no shelters, just pure, unhindered rain. When it seemed as if it couldn't rain any harder, it poured down more. Raindrops can not be used to describe rain of this magnitude; rainballs is a much better noun for the type of rain we experienced. At first, we all sung songs by Stephen Foster, or rather, Camptown Races by Stephen Foster. Despite the immense joy that Steven Foster's music as well as excessive dropping of Stephen Foster's name gives me, our morale was annihilated as quickly as our dryness. I did not become not-miserable until every single inch of my clothing, inside and out, was soaked. By then, I didn't care; I actually started having fun. There was no way I could get any wetter than that, barring submersion in a pool.Then the sun came out as we neared the gorge. It was worth every drop of water in my water-proofed shoes. The rugged deep red edges, stretching down into the green scrub forest below was awe-inspiring. We saw two more great lookouts and none did not impress. It didn't rain once for the rest of the day.I hit the sack early in the tent instead of staying up and sleeping under the stars; I needed sleep a little too much.Thanks to Catherine and Mirte for the photos.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Tour Day Six
Today we are featuring a guest bloggist (blogger?). Eline decided that she would write the description of what happened on the terrible day six. This was Australia Day, the national holiday for the country. Despite the crappiness, we did what could to make the most of it.
We temporarily joined another tour for the night. Their guide was very disorganized. He took up all the tents, so our group had to be spread out. They left for the night to beat the potential floods hitting the roads, only to come back an hour later. Even though the camp had a kitchen area, the genius decided that putting the barbies in a tent and cooking fish in their was a good idea. The people who had to sleep in the fish tent were quite unhappy about that. Our meals were brought to the bus, where we ate in the dark. I couldn't see what I eating. We told that it was fish and couscous, but from what I could tell using only the texture and taste, we were eating weird chicken and really stiff pudding with capsicum in it. We all decided to have as little with the other group as possible after that.
Happy Australia Day! Thank you Aaron
I will tell your diary what we did on this day:
-sitting on the bus,
-sitting in the bus,
-listening to music in the bus
-sleeping in the bus
-being irritated by people in the bus
-played karts or carts at the bus (interjection, she means cards)
-relocated my shoulder on the bus
-being ennoyed by flies & Mirte&Eline in the bus
It was a great day!
To add some more important details of the day. Eline did a great job at pointing out the incredible monotony of the day. As you could guess from her version of the blog, we pretty much just sat on the bus all day long. We woke up at five, then spent 12 straight hours on the bus. We had just recently crossed the Tropic of Capricorn. We all had our Henry Miller and read all of our favorite passages (maybe not). We arrived at Karajini National Park in the middle of nowhere. The nearby cyclone caused excessive amounts of rain. Not that it rained continuously, but there was a two hour on, two hour off schedule that held for most of night. The flies were horrendous! I was thankfully given a fly net by Les. "There will come a time when you will need this; you'll know when." At first, many in the group were making fun of how silly I looked in such a thing, but after about 15 minutes, I recognized the looks on people's faces ("Aaron is a pretty small guy, I'm sure we could easily take him down, steal the net.")
We temporarily joined another tour for the night. Their guide was very disorganized. He took up all the tents, so our group had to be spread out. They left for the night to beat the potential floods hitting the roads, only to come back an hour later. Even though the camp had a kitchen area, the genius decided that putting the barbies in a tent and cooking fish in their was a good idea. The people who had to sleep in the fish tent were quite unhappy about that. Our meals were brought to the bus, where we ate in the dark. I couldn't see what I eating. We told that it was fish and couscous, but from what I could tell using only the texture and taste, we were eating weird chicken and really stiff pudding with capsicum in it. We all decided to have as little with the other group as possible after that.The day had been horrible, and since Australia day is supposed to be fun, we through a dance party. Because of the rain and the fact that after 12 hours of riding, we had developed a special bond with the bus, we decided that it was the perfect setting for our new, bus-themed night club. Steve was our DJ (aka Karajini FM) and we literally rocked the bus. The guides had never seen such a site in their many years of tours. In the end, it turned out to be a fun day.
Special thanks to Mirte and Catherine for the photos and Eline for the blog.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Tour Day Five
We awoke that morning and headed straight to the nearby Turquoise Bay. It was one of those beaches so beautiful, I had no problem sitting back and just enjoying the scenery. The name truly said it all, with waters the color turquoise which no crayon could ever capture.
The Great Barrier Reef is the most famous snorkeling and diving waters in the world, but it is located miles off the shore, so nobody can actually swim there. The Ningalloo Reef is very close to land and although not quite as spectacular as the Great Barrier Reef, it is still quite nice (or so I hear).The whole group braved the high currents, including the break in the coral pushing the uninformed to Africa. I stayed behind in the shade and talked for a while with Cornelius from Holland and Elaine from Hong Kong.
We spent another night in the air conditioned splendor of the Exmouth Hostel, but all was not paradise. In a flash, the wind picked up and it began to rain. We huddled inside and got word that a cyclone, close cousin of the hurricane was coming. We packed our bags once the wind calmed down and prepared to head inland at a moments notice. Thankfully, it never picked up again. We were able to stay outside and enjoy the cool weather and great company.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Day Four
It was nice to sleep in one morning, since we've been leaving so early everyday, yet still staying up late. We all had a fun party the previous night, so everybody really needed the extra sleep. We were in the town of Coral Bay, at the base of the peninsula jutting into the Ningaloo reef.
We finally had a whole free day to do what we pleased. Most took a snorkel trip to see manta rays. For the tour, a plane would fly over the reef, searching for large rays, then sends GPS coordinates to the boat. The group saw sharks, turtles, manta rays, tropical fish, and magnificent coral. Everyone on the tour absolutely loved it. The six of us who stayed behind just hung out on the beach and snorkeled and sunbathed. I did get to wade a bit in the water and enjoyed the cool water on the hot day.
Friendships were beginning to form. Although the group got along well as a whole, various subgroups were forming. My group was the two Dutch girls, Eline and Mirte, Steve and Chris the Brits, Reelika the Estonian, and Frank the German. We were the few of the group left behind from the snorkel tour. (Well, left behind sounds harsh. We elected not to go along.) We also started adopting nicknames. I was dubbed "Riggs" (my original nickname, "Indy" due to my recklessness was ditched after my injury. Indiana Jones would never dislocate his shoulder.). Riggs was apparently a character from Lethal Weapon who dislocated his shoulder at some point. Other adopted nicknames due to their resemblance to famous TV characters (i.e. Screech from Saved by the Bell and Charlotte from Sex and the City) My choice favorite was Mirte's "Gouda" because she happened to grate cheese on the first day of the tour and is dutch.
During our short drive to the Northern end of the peninsula, the tour guides decided that we all needed to learn John Williamson songs, complete with hand gestures. It was a hoot and we were destined to sings his lousy stupid songs for the whole week.
We spent the night in some lovely air-conditioned cabins in Exmouth. It was quite a luxury, given the high-90's temperatures at night. We all stayed up chatting and drinking box wine (which the Aussies call "goon"), going to bed much too late.
Thanks to Mirte for the photos.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Tour Day Three
The third day started in Monkey Mia, famous home of friendly dolphins. I don't know who figured it out, but the dolphins of this area love people. There are three feedings every morning (these feedings post-dated the discovery of their love for people). It was fascinating to finally see my first dolphin. I wasn't able to touch them though.After the feeding, I played a game of one-armed, left-handed, low-mobility beach volleyball. Serving proved to be my forte. The rest of the morning was dedicated to hangout out at the beach. We had lunch at a hut and all was well until we learned that it wasn't just the Monkey Mia dolphins that weren't afraid of people. An emu attacked us, ruined our lunch and stole my sandwich. Jerk.
We drove the rest of the day before stopping for a night in Coral Bay. They served us the famous Aussie hamburger. A beef patty, fried onions, cheese, bacon, lettuce, beet root, tomato, and most importantly, an over-easy fried egg. They don't even fit in a person's mouth. You gotta love those Aussies! We all bonded that night as group over a game of one-armed, left-handed table tennis and a party on the bus in the parking lot. We were all starting to gel really well as a group by this point. 
Thanks to Catherine and Mirte for the photos.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Day Two
I awoke day two in quite a lot of a pain. My shoulder was pulled out of joint a little in my sleep. It is really impossible to keep something like that still when unconscious. Thankfully, I just had to restraighten my sling and physically push it back in place. At this point, it is what physiotherapists refer to a piano key joint; it is free to just go up and down, but will most likely pop up. For much of the day, I had to struggle to keep the joint in place. By night time it was healed enough to more or less stable.Our first stop was at Kalbarri National Park, which was incredible. The main feature was a sandstone gorge that we hiked through. At my first photo op of the day, I realized my camera was broken; the lens came out, but would not go back into the camera. I found this odd since in worked the prior evening for some sunset photos. My sunglasses were also missing; I probably left them at the hostel. A few of the people in the group chose to rappel down the side of the gorge (the call it abseiling here though...odd), which looked like much fun. After our hike, we stopped at Nature's window, a sandstone formation at the top of this cliff that looks surprisingly enough like a window to the incredible gorge below. It was truly breathtaking.
Our next stop was to Hamelin Bay, home of one of the largest and oldest colonies of stromatolites in the world. For those not "in the know", at billions of years old, stromatolites are one of the oldest living things on Earth. They were the first ever photosynthetic organisms, creating all the original oxygen in our atmosphere. Without them, we would not exist. To see such things was incredible, especially since evolution has not altered them in billions of years. All they were were some brown, coral-like growths on the beach, it was still fascinating.
We stopped for a bathroom break at a service station called Billabong, which was actually built on the site of a billabong. You could tell by finches. So, if you ever get lost in the outback, if you see finches flying around, you know there is nearby water. Water was definitely needed. I got off the bus into the hottest natural temperature I've ever experienced. It felt just like a sauna. The thermometer sitting the shade read 41C (or 106F). Typically the shade is between seven and ten degrees cooler than the sun, so the actual temperature was 50C or 122F! That is hot!
The final stop was Shell Beach, which is exactly how the name describes it. The entire 110km long beach was made entirely of sea shells. It was like sand, but a closer inspection showed it was all broken shells. The "sand" here is used for buildings, landscaping, and chicken feed (the shell particles makes the chicken eggs harder to break apparently). While there, Dave, one of our guides, convinced us there was a flock of turtles. The whole 20 person group waded the shallow water for 100 meters, only to find it was hoax! To top it off, he later claimed to have seen a snake in the bushes which he never found. He redeemed himself after catching a spiky dragon on the side of the road though.
(Special thanks to Eline, Cathrine, and Mirte for the photos.)
Perth to Broome Tour: Day One
Our first stop was the Pinnacles Desert. The pinnacles are a field of limestone columns, stretching as far as the eye can see. Some are quite short, but most are bigger than a linebacker. They were formed in one of two ways: 1) wind and water pushed dead animal matter into columns that collected over millions of years or 2) sand buried an ancient forest, petrifying the wood underground. As the sand eroded away, stone columns were left behind. Sadly, photos are unable to capture the scope, but it was quite awesome in person.
We stopped for a short lunch and the mysteriously named Hangover Bay, before heading off for a four hour drive north to Geraldton, home of some wicked sand dunes that we intended to sandboard. By intended, I mean did. It was heaps of fun as the Aussies would say. The boards didn't go too fast and the wind slowly eroded layers of my face, but we still enjoyed ourselves. The final run was a race between me and four other snowboarders. I was winning until I took a tumble down the hill and smacked into my shoulder. I heard a pop and knew exactly what had happened. I calmly approached the guide and said, "Hey, do you know first aid: my shoulder is dislocated?" My calmness must have confused him, but one look at the bone jutting out my shoulder was enough convincing for him.
Our next stop on the tour was Geraldton Hosipital. I got to sit on a bed and was given an oh so exciting morphine shot! I hate morphine passionately. I really can't see why somebody would want to do it for fun. Honestly, I was more comfortable being in pain than the restless twitchiness I get from morphine. I was given a tour of the radiology department where I got to stand in front of real live X-ray machine! Just like in the movies! The diagnosis was no fractures, but a type three AC joint separation. That is the joint that connects the shoulder blade to the collar bone. It is really a useless joint and is often cut to alleviate arthritis pain the shoulder. Surgery or forceful repositioning was not needed, but I have to wear a foam shoulder sling for six weeks that holds my shoulder back. The joint is only held together by ligaments and muscles, so it merely has to heal back in place. Unfortunately, this means no swimming, no snorkeling, no running, no lifting over 20lbs, and my professional football career is over. To sum this up, six weeks of no fun.
We got to our hostel and relaxed. I could not sleep because the pain and sleeping flat on my back. It is going to be a long six weeks. As I tried to sleep, I kicked myself for not filling that prescription for codeine the doctor gave; some happy pills would have been nice.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Burnings and Deaths
As a plant, in order to survive in a continent that is mostly desert and suffers 100+ degree temperatures for at least a month straight, you would need to survive fires. The summer in Australia is a constant battle against spreading brush fires. On the embarking of my trip, we passed a "forest" ravaged by a fire. Unlike our fires in North America, which basically level trees to the ground, the fire here just burned the leaves and merely charred the rest. There were two types of trees, one with a person-height trunk that expanded into various limbs and leaves on top, or waist-high stumps , almost like cacti, with a big frayed paint brush on top. Stripped bare, it looked like a military cemetery, with black instead of white graves.
These plants always recover though. Since the stumps and roots remain, the plants survive. Natural selection has done well here. Some plants only release their flame resistant seeds after a fire hits, ensuing the offspring of the burned parent survives.
Most of these fires are either spontaneous from the heat or accidental, but some jerks feel the need to start fires on hot days. Last week, somebody deliberately burned down 60% of the beautiful King's Park I mentioned earlier. I"m glad I saw it when I did. This happens every few years though, so a burned park is a common site. On probably the same day, another asshole took a lighter to Big Ted, ending his desert residency forever. Some people have no life.
These plants always recover though. Since the stumps and roots remain, the plants survive. Natural selection has done well here. Some plants only release their flame resistant seeds after a fire hits, ensuing the offspring of the burned parent survives.
Most of these fires are either spontaneous from the heat or accidental, but some jerks feel the need to start fires on hot days. Last week, somebody deliberately burned down 60% of the beautiful King's Park I mentioned earlier. I"m glad I saw it when I did. This happens every few years though, so a burned park is a common site. On probably the same day, another asshole took a lighter to Big Ted, ending his desert residency forever. Some people have no life.
Last Day in Perth
My last day in Perth was very anticlimactic. Although I suppose last days are often like that; one tends to cram everything they wish to see in the first few days. I do have to say it was more of a let down than I had hoped though.
I blame it on a book. I wanted a guide of all the hostels in Australia to help find what I needed when arriving in a new town. The Lonely Planet guide is bulky and has too much information about restaurants and expensive hotels than what I need. (Though after getting this guide, it also lacks such important information as interesting sites and valuable maps of the towns. Don't buy the BUG guide of Australia. It lack so much a person needs to know. That's right BUG, get your crap together and put together a worthwhile guide.) I knew it would not arrive in Broken Hill before my departure, so I shipped it to Erin's place. One month later, it arrives as a package slip in the mail box on my last full day in town. I didn't get the notice until after the post office was closed. OF course, the post office didn't open again until after Erin left for work the next morning, trapping me at her place that morning. Most mornings, Erin dropped me off at the train station at 7:30 on her way to work, then picked me up at five on her way home. This last day, I was at the mercy of the unreliable public transit.
The previous day was also a waste. My inability to find a bus that took me to Scarborough beach, until 3:30 cost me a whole day of wave bobbing. The bus failed me on my last day as well. The first bus that I needed didn't get me to town from Erin's until 2:30PM. Therefore, I was stuck at Erin's watching four DVD's, later checked into the hostile, returned a wall outlet for my MP3 player (damn problem maker), stopped by the travel agent to confirm my tour (and learned just in time I needed a sleeping bag), bought a sleeping bag, paid $3 for a mere hour of Internet, bought a bad gyro, went to the pub alone, found myself too, read a newspaper at the pub, found myself shy again at the hostile, so I wrote this newly meta-blog. I have to go to bed early anyway to catch my tour at seven in morning. Goodnight.
Ha! Did you really think I'm that I'm too shy not to mingle with a room full of solo travellers? Well, I often am, but I'm trying to get better. I took my cribbage set and challenged a German woman and her french friend to a game. Neither knew how to play though. I attempted to teach the game, claiming it was easy, but it didn't take. The language barrier didn't help, neither did the Aussie bloke who knew the game, yet still accused me of making up rules. Let's say I was winning by a lot as well.
We ditched it after half a game.
I went to bed early since I had to get up early, but I may have had my worst sleep I've paid for in my whole life. First off, I was on the top bunk, under a light that was being used by my other dorm mates for hours. I was also right next to the squeaky bathroom door and even closer to the even more squeaky exit door. Based on my calculations, given I sat in the bed for seven hours and a door opened and closed an average of once a minute, every single person in my room got up and opened a door individually 28 times between 11PM and 6AM! I only got up to urinate a single time. My top bunk did not have a ladder for some reason. All chances of falling back to sleep after my quick bathroom trip was killed by my six foot ankle-breaking drop and (famous male gymnast)-like lift back into the bed (good thing I am light a reasonably fit.)
Post-script: this last sentence makes me cry. The next day, such a feat would be rendered impossible. :-(
I blame it on a book. I wanted a guide of all the hostels in Australia to help find what I needed when arriving in a new town. The Lonely Planet guide is bulky and has too much information about restaurants and expensive hotels than what I need. (Though after getting this guide, it also lacks such important information as interesting sites and valuable maps of the towns. Don't buy the BUG guide of Australia. It lack so much a person needs to know. That's right BUG, get your crap together and put together a worthwhile guide.) I knew it would not arrive in Broken Hill before my departure, so I shipped it to Erin's place. One month later, it arrives as a package slip in the mail box on my last full day in town. I didn't get the notice until after the post office was closed. OF course, the post office didn't open again until after Erin left for work the next morning, trapping me at her place that morning. Most mornings, Erin dropped me off at the train station at 7:30 on her way to work, then picked me up at five on her way home. This last day, I was at the mercy of the unreliable public transit.
The previous day was also a waste. My inability to find a bus that took me to Scarborough beach, until 3:30 cost me a whole day of wave bobbing. The bus failed me on my last day as well. The first bus that I needed didn't get me to town from Erin's until 2:30PM. Therefore, I was stuck at Erin's watching four DVD's, later checked into the hostile, returned a wall outlet for my MP3 player (damn problem maker), stopped by the travel agent to confirm my tour (and learned just in time I needed a sleeping bag), bought a sleeping bag, paid $3 for a mere hour of Internet, bought a bad gyro, went to the pub alone, found myself too, read a newspaper at the pub, found myself shy again at the hostile, so I wrote this newly meta-blog. I have to go to bed early anyway to catch my tour at seven in morning. Goodnight.
Ha! Did you really think I'm that I'm too shy not to mingle with a room full of solo travellers? Well, I often am, but I'm trying to get better. I took my cribbage set and challenged a German woman and her french friend to a game. Neither knew how to play though. I attempted to teach the game, claiming it was easy, but it didn't take. The language barrier didn't help, neither did the Aussie bloke who knew the game, yet still accused me of making up rules. Let's say I was winning by a lot as well.
We ditched it after half a game.
I went to bed early since I had to get up early, but I may have had my worst sleep I've paid for in my whole life. First off, I was on the top bunk, under a light that was being used by my other dorm mates for hours. I was also right next to the squeaky bathroom door and even closer to the even more squeaky exit door. Based on my calculations, given I sat in the bed for seven hours and a door opened and closed an average of once a minute, every single person in my room got up and opened a door individually 28 times between 11PM and 6AM! I only got up to urinate a single time. My top bunk did not have a ladder for some reason. All chances of falling back to sleep after my quick bathroom trip was killed by my six foot ankle-breaking drop and (famous male gymnast)-like lift back into the bed (good thing I am light a reasonably fit.)
Post-script: this last sentence makes me cry. The next day, such a feat would be rendered impossible. :-(
Monday, February 2, 2009
Swan Valley
The wines of Western Australia are typically dominated by the Margaret River valley of the south. In second place is the Swan River valley near Perth, which just happened to be a 15 minute drive from Erin's place! A wine tour was definitely in order.
We only stopped at four vineyards by the end of our tour. Three had lots of top end, $30 bottles at the vineyard. The oddest wine was a Shiraz that tasted very close to butter. Let's just say some heads turned when I said that at the tasting. Some were good, but none really jumped out at me, even if they cost under $20. One vineyard had some great wine, particularly their Sauvinon Blanc/Semillion. We were pleasantly surprised by the $10 price tag. Maybe we don't quite have the most developed pallet in the world.
We also stopped at three microbreweries which were all very good. The Feral Brewery was the best. So, good beer, free wine, free cheese, free chocolate, and good company. It was a good day.
We only stopped at four vineyards by the end of our tour. Three had lots of top end, $30 bottles at the vineyard. The oddest wine was a Shiraz that tasted very close to butter. Let's just say some heads turned when I said that at the tasting. Some were good, but none really jumped out at me, even if they cost under $20. One vineyard had some great wine, particularly their Sauvinon Blanc/Semillion. We were pleasantly surprised by the $10 price tag. Maybe we don't quite have the most developed pallet in the world.
We also stopped at three microbreweries which were all very good. The Feral Brewery was the best. So, good beer, free wine, free cheese, free chocolate, and good company. It was a good day.
Near-death Experience
Today, I had my first run-in with a venomous creature in Australia. I was enjoying a peaceful, relaxing shower, completely oblivious to the horrors on the other side of the shower curtain. I shut off the water, grabbed my towel, then suddenly it struck! From under my boxer shorts crawled the elusive white-tail! Thankfully, vigilance and ball of tissue made quick work of the poisonous menace.
The white-tail is one of three venomous spiders in Australia. Rarely has the bite of the white-tail killed someone. They are basically the equivalent of our Brown Recluse. It is uncommon for them to come out into the open, but their bites can be quite painful and can cause gangrene. Anti-venom is widely available. I am glad I caught it though; if not, it would have remained in my boxer shorts. I doubt I or my future children would appreciate rotting flesh in that area of the body.
(Post-script: Two weeks later, finally connected to the Internet, I have deduced that my encounter was most likely not with the rare white-tail. The spider I saw looked much like the above, yet most photos of the white-tail do not look like this. The post has remained posted because it makes me feel like Steve Irwin or something. This is no way suggests that Steve Irwin would ever kill a white-tail with a tissue...maybe it is Steven Segal I was emulating.)
Quokkas
Quokkas are the adorable mascots of Rottnest. They are an extremely endangered species of Wallaby, but you wouldn't be able to guess it if you travel to Rottnest, where they flourish. A few exist in the Southern part of Western Australia, but mostly they live on the island. The Dutch explorers though these cousins of the kangaroo were giant rats, so they named the island Rottnest or "Rat Nest".
My first encounter was quite exciting. It was a mid-afternoon and I saw two in a shaded area, munching on sticks. I snuck up slowly and carefully, trying not to startle it. I got in really close and then made it look in my direction for a photo. It was not too shy, I could almost touch it, so it was "an animal moment". I made it back into town in the late afternoon to find the sidewalks full of them. At night, they are everywhere, trying to get food from stupid tourists. They will even let you pet them (Don't tell the Australian government; they'll deport me.) They are quite cute as you can see.
A special thanks goes out to Mirte Simons for the greatest Quokka photo ever.
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