Jen, aka "Benevolent Being" in the comments section, asked when I was coming home.
Feel free, just for kicks, to check the tentative itinerary in one of the first entries. My trip ended up being nothing like the one in the itinerary, which I'll explain later (if people are interested in knowing).
Anyway, the Coming Home date is the one thing that's remained the same: 28/12.
That's the 12th day of the 28th month, or for those of you keeping up with life in the Antipodes--and nearly everywhere else in the world--that's 28-twelfths, or 28 parts of 12.
I love questions and am happy to answer any and all.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Three Week Run
Those of you who could be bothered to read my blog might have caught on that we're missing about three weeks, yes, three weeks of updates. Those diving entries were mainly to keep you occupied as I traveled and rarely used the 'net. Here I am though, alone in Cairns, and the shuttle to my hostel isn't until 9:30 p.m., so let's make the most of it, shall we?
Let's shall. Here are some photos beginning November 18. As you know, I flew to Brisbane from Darwin, and that's where Siall lives. She and I were housemates at New College. We've known each other for 14 years or something insane like that. Siall now is a student and teacher and her main pastime is poetry! Currently, one of her poems (or is it more than one?) is being set to dance by some local artists in an exhibition which matches writers and dancers.
First a shot of Byron Bay at sunset, which Siall and I visited just before I headed North:
Here is Siall and my friend Andre (you might remember him from the Alice Springs photos), who coincidentally happened to be in Brisbane when we were there. We had almost approximately exactly the best drinks of our lives at this pub. Siall was drinking something blue called Liquid Opium (I'm not making that up). They had the best bloody marys I've ever had in my life, which was my second drink after a drink called Apple Cobbler. Usually I like beer or straight shots, but these cocktails were impossible to resist, almost as good as the drinks in Eugene at El Vaquero -- or just.
Back in the West End of Brisbane, Siall and her roommate played with the remote controller for a tiny whirring electric helicopter.
On November 24th, which was a Saturday and also Election Day, I took the bus to Hervey Bay. Incidentally, I was glad that Kevin Rudd won the prime minister seat, but not so glad that the third-party representatives (the Greens and the Democrats) didn't get elected. Also incidentally, whenever I ask anyone what they think of the election, if they were happy about Rudd winning, they all say "It was time for a change" or "We were ready for a change."
The next day I took the boat to Fraser Island. Here is a shipwreck there.
Because it was cheap and because the pilot said I could ride in front, I took a short flying tour of the island. The dials and guages are fascinating, no?
M5 is the motorway on Fraser Island, and it's made of only sand. And it's supposedly the only highway in the world where you can play in traffic. Pedestrians have the right-of-way everywhere on this coastline. If anyone is hanging out on the beach, sunbathing and building sand castles, the cars, legally, have to drive around them. The bus on Fraser drove practically where the waves broke, even though it had to be on the left side of the road. We were driving anywhere from 80 to 100 kilometers an hour! Also, the vehicles must share the road with the planes. It's a motorway, an airstrip, and a recreational beach! The shoreline in the view from the plane's window is, indeed, the M5.
On Fraser Island I made two friends, Ben and Fouzia. Ben is from Nigeria, and Fouzia is from France. Although we are all cozy here on the boat back to Hervey Bay, we were all solo travelers who met only that day.
That night, Sunday, I took the bus to Bundaberg, and the following morning I met a fellow named Dave who was hitchhiking to Cairns. We walked together to buy fruit from the local market, the visitors' center wasn't open, and so I threw caution to the wind and hitchhiked with him to Agnes Water. Now in Cairns, today, I'm not going farther north and am taking a flight to Melbourne tomorrow, since I'd promised my Melburnian cousins I'd return. This means, no more hitchhiking, so feel free to issue me all the warnings you want, or quote to me that four-year-old incident where some hitchhikers were killed. (To sum, it was great to meet locals rather than more backpackers from Europe, who are also very nice, of course, but nothing beats learning about a place from a local. :)
As a side note, most of the people who picked up me and Dave were older men who would talk to us about fishing. Sharing the car with a fishing pole or an esky (that's the Aussie word for cooler) full of just-caught fish was nothing new to us. We were also picked up by a garbage truck-driver, two semis (they had 18 gears!), a poet, an emergency surgeon and his rural nurse wife, and the mother of four young daughters, among other kind and friendly drivers.
That Monday, the 26th, we stayed at the Southern Cross hostel in Agnes Water, and the following morning I began my dive course at 1770, the town near Agnes. For several days I trained in a swimming pool. On Wednesday and Thursday of that week, I trained in this estuary, which earned me my open water diving certificate. That means I can dive up to 18 meters, although I've never gone below 15.
I stayed at the Southern Cross from Monday to Saturday morning of that week. It wasn't an everyday hostel. It had beautiful landscaping, free toast and tea, cabin-like rooms with decking, and an open-air common area. This view is of the meditation area in the backyard of my room. Behind it are the water tanks.
On Friday I went diving off of Lady Musgrave Island. The first dive was along Napoleon's Wall and the second was in the Lady Musgrave lagoon. The view was spectacular, with a visibility of 30 meters or more. This was the first time I was completely comfortable diving. My mask didn't leak. My air flowed smoothly. My nose didn't explode. I was simply in awe of the coral varieties, the colorful fish, and the eels. I could even turn and twist in the water to keep track of my buddy and his air. At one point one of the people diving with us got in my way. I tried hard to keep just a little bit of space between me and the others, so as not to cause accidents, but one guy swam right into my path, flailed (in diving you're really not supposed to use your arms at all), and nearly knocked off my regulator and my mask. Thankfully, I'd learned how to replace my mask and regulator in my safety training courses, and everything went so smoothly. I was so proud of myself. We went down to 15 meters at one point, and my oxygen had one of the highest amounts at each of the two dives, which means I wasn't hyperventilating or over-exerting myself and was just generally being calm while breathing.
On Saturday, December 1, we left Agnes and hitchhiked to Rockhampton and Mackay. I have to say, traveling with a working-class fellow from Brisbane (whose ambition is to work in the mines) really caused me to shed my touristy behaviors, one of which was the constant picture-taking. I took almost no pictures in these two towns, save for this one of Dave in the cab of the semi. One nice thing that happened, though, was that I partipated in the couchsurfing project. We stayed with a couple and their parents in Rockhampton for a night. The following two nights we stayed with an older couple in Mackay. The Rocky hosts were also travellers, and they had even visited Eugene during their trip to the States! Nearly no one I've met knows where Oregon is -- much less Eugene. In Mackay we stayed with a woman who was a Justice of the Peace and a city councillor and her husband, who was mostly a kept man, but who seemed pretty handy around the house. We talked heatedly about politics over wine.
From Mackay we went to Airlie Beach. At Proserpine an older man picked us up and told us about the sailing races which happen every Wednesday. He called his son, who was on the crew of the Lady Hawk, and we were told to meet the crew on Wednesday the 5th (last week) at the sailing club. We really lucked out. Not only did we get to experience Airlie in a way that is rare for a tourist to experience (the tourists usually take chartered sailing tours), but we happened across a boat owned by a really skillful sailor, Johnny. We didn't win the sailing race, probably because we had so many people aboard the boat, but we had a great time. Johnny won Yachtsman of the Year at the recognition awards that Friday.
By the way, Dave didn't want to have his seat on the boat, and he headed up to Townsville where I met him a few days later. Meantime, we met up with Andre, and we ate dinner with him after our sailing race experiences. He made us yummy garlic butter spaghetti.
The boats in our wake:
We enjoyed ourselves so much that Johnny took Andre and me out on the boat on Saturday, the 8th. One of the crew of the Lady Hawk, Dan, also liked to dive, and so the plan was to rent equipment, sail out to Armit Island, and dive twice in the reef around the island. I think it's called a coral cay. The other cool thing about Johnny, who is about 70, is that he's died four times. He's had four heart surgeries and says he's living on borrowed time, so he just enjoys life. He also talks like a sailor.
Johnny is sitting at the wheel with his wife Linika. They had the engine on as we started out toward the island.
They had the cutest 6-month-old Staffie. I took about a thousand pictures of him. His name is Harley, after the bike. We got along so well that Harley often tried to nibble my earlobes.
Once we got to the island, we anchored and took the dinghy to the shore. The Lady Hawk is here offshore, the one in front.
Armit Island wasn't an armpit; it was paradise. This is the shoreline off which I dove. The current was strong and the visibility poor, but the coral as before was beautiful. I posted pictures at the last entry. The pictures didn't really do the view justice, primarily because you lose the ability to see colors the further down you go. In person I saw stronger colors than what's shown in the pictures. Even so, the first color lost is red, then orange, then yellow, and down the rainbow, hence why everything seems so blue-green with the piddly little flashbulb of the waterproof camera (on loan from Dan, my dive buddy). You'll have to wait for the pictures from the Lady Musgrave Island trip, since I did take a waterproof camera, but it wasn't digital.
On the beach of Armit was such a nice lagoon where nearly everyone sat or waded and drank beers. Harley was somewhat afraid of the water and wouldn't get in. Sara, one of the gals on the boat, watched on.
Function over beauty. Upon surfacing, the skilled (or newly and somewhat skilled) diver inflates the BC (Buoyancy Control).
After a half hour or more, we went down for a second dive. We only went to a depth of 6 meters the first time, and on this one we went down to 12 meters. This put me, ultimately, in group I in the Padi nitrogen charts! I trained with SSI, not Padi. Are the groupings the same? Anyway, here's a picture of my dive buddy Dan.
We were back on the boat in time for lunch. We were famished. I don't remember eating so fast in my life. I half-ate-half-swallowed an avocado-veggie sandwich and a small container of tabouli. I forgot to mention that--and this was the case after all my dives, now numbering 8--food tastes better after diving. After my fourth dive, I had a fresh squeezed apple-pineapple-ginger juice and a falafel, and it was one of the best lunches I've ever had! That's a lot of hyphens!
On the way back, for nearly the entire journey back to the Airlie Beach shore, Johnny let me drive the boat. We didn't use the engine, just the main sail and the jib.
Then I turned the boat over to Andre. While he sailed us nearly home, I sat on the deck and watched the sun set.
This brings us to the night of the 8th, which means I'm only five days behind on updates and not 21.
Let's shall. Here are some photos beginning November 18. As you know, I flew to Brisbane from Darwin, and that's where Siall lives. She and I were housemates at New College. We've known each other for 14 years or something insane like that. Siall now is a student and teacher and her main pastime is poetry! Currently, one of her poems (or is it more than one?) is being set to dance by some local artists in an exhibition which matches writers and dancers.
First a shot of Byron Bay at sunset, which Siall and I visited just before I headed North:
Here is Siall and my friend Andre (you might remember him from the Alice Springs photos), who coincidentally happened to be in Brisbane when we were there. We had almost approximately exactly the best drinks of our lives at this pub. Siall was drinking something blue called Liquid Opium (I'm not making that up). They had the best bloody marys I've ever had in my life, which was my second drink after a drink called Apple Cobbler. Usually I like beer or straight shots, but these cocktails were impossible to resist, almost as good as the drinks in Eugene at El Vaquero -- or just.
Back in the West End of Brisbane, Siall and her roommate played with the remote controller for a tiny whirring electric helicopter.
On November 24th, which was a Saturday and also Election Day, I took the bus to Hervey Bay. Incidentally, I was glad that Kevin Rudd won the prime minister seat, but not so glad that the third-party representatives (the Greens and the Democrats) didn't get elected. Also incidentally, whenever I ask anyone what they think of the election, if they were happy about Rudd winning, they all say "It was time for a change" or "We were ready for a change."
The next day I took the boat to Fraser Island. Here is a shipwreck there.
Because it was cheap and because the pilot said I could ride in front, I took a short flying tour of the island. The dials and guages are fascinating, no?
M5 is the motorway on Fraser Island, and it's made of only sand. And it's supposedly the only highway in the world where you can play in traffic. Pedestrians have the right-of-way everywhere on this coastline. If anyone is hanging out on the beach, sunbathing and building sand castles, the cars, legally, have to drive around them. The bus on Fraser drove practically where the waves broke, even though it had to be on the left side of the road. We were driving anywhere from 80 to 100 kilometers an hour! Also, the vehicles must share the road with the planes. It's a motorway, an airstrip, and a recreational beach! The shoreline in the view from the plane's window is, indeed, the M5.
On Fraser Island I made two friends, Ben and Fouzia. Ben is from Nigeria, and Fouzia is from France. Although we are all cozy here on the boat back to Hervey Bay, we were all solo travelers who met only that day.
That night, Sunday, I took the bus to Bundaberg, and the following morning I met a fellow named Dave who was hitchhiking to Cairns. We walked together to buy fruit from the local market, the visitors' center wasn't open, and so I threw caution to the wind and hitchhiked with him to Agnes Water. Now in Cairns, today, I'm not going farther north and am taking a flight to Melbourne tomorrow, since I'd promised my Melburnian cousins I'd return. This means, no more hitchhiking, so feel free to issue me all the warnings you want, or quote to me that four-year-old incident where some hitchhikers were killed. (To sum, it was great to meet locals rather than more backpackers from Europe, who are also very nice, of course, but nothing beats learning about a place from a local. :)
As a side note, most of the people who picked up me and Dave were older men who would talk to us about fishing. Sharing the car with a fishing pole or an esky (that's the Aussie word for cooler) full of just-caught fish was nothing new to us. We were also picked up by a garbage truck-driver, two semis (they had 18 gears!), a poet, an emergency surgeon and his rural nurse wife, and the mother of four young daughters, among other kind and friendly drivers.
That Monday, the 26th, we stayed at the Southern Cross hostel in Agnes Water, and the following morning I began my dive course at 1770, the town near Agnes. For several days I trained in a swimming pool. On Wednesday and Thursday of that week, I trained in this estuary, which earned me my open water diving certificate. That means I can dive up to 18 meters, although I've never gone below 15.
I stayed at the Southern Cross from Monday to Saturday morning of that week. It wasn't an everyday hostel. It had beautiful landscaping, free toast and tea, cabin-like rooms with decking, and an open-air common area. This view is of the meditation area in the backyard of my room. Behind it are the water tanks.
On Friday I went diving off of Lady Musgrave Island. The first dive was along Napoleon's Wall and the second was in the Lady Musgrave lagoon. The view was spectacular, with a visibility of 30 meters or more. This was the first time I was completely comfortable diving. My mask didn't leak. My air flowed smoothly. My nose didn't explode. I was simply in awe of the coral varieties, the colorful fish, and the eels. I could even turn and twist in the water to keep track of my buddy and his air. At one point one of the people diving with us got in my way. I tried hard to keep just a little bit of space between me and the others, so as not to cause accidents, but one guy swam right into my path, flailed (in diving you're really not supposed to use your arms at all), and nearly knocked off my regulator and my mask. Thankfully, I'd learned how to replace my mask and regulator in my safety training courses, and everything went so smoothly. I was so proud of myself. We went down to 15 meters at one point, and my oxygen had one of the highest amounts at each of the two dives, which means I wasn't hyperventilating or over-exerting myself and was just generally being calm while breathing.
On Saturday, December 1, we left Agnes and hitchhiked to Rockhampton and Mackay. I have to say, traveling with a working-class fellow from Brisbane (whose ambition is to work in the mines) really caused me to shed my touristy behaviors, one of which was the constant picture-taking. I took almost no pictures in these two towns, save for this one of Dave in the cab of the semi. One nice thing that happened, though, was that I partipated in the couchsurfing project. We stayed with a couple and their parents in Rockhampton for a night. The following two nights we stayed with an older couple in Mackay. The Rocky hosts were also travellers, and they had even visited Eugene during their trip to the States! Nearly no one I've met knows where Oregon is -- much less Eugene. In Mackay we stayed with a woman who was a Justice of the Peace and a city councillor and her husband, who was mostly a kept man, but who seemed pretty handy around the house. We talked heatedly about politics over wine.
From Mackay we went to Airlie Beach. At Proserpine an older man picked us up and told us about the sailing races which happen every Wednesday. He called his son, who was on the crew of the Lady Hawk, and we were told to meet the crew on Wednesday the 5th (last week) at the sailing club. We really lucked out. Not only did we get to experience Airlie in a way that is rare for a tourist to experience (the tourists usually take chartered sailing tours), but we happened across a boat owned by a really skillful sailor, Johnny. We didn't win the sailing race, probably because we had so many people aboard the boat, but we had a great time. Johnny won Yachtsman of the Year at the recognition awards that Friday.
By the way, Dave didn't want to have his seat on the boat, and he headed up to Townsville where I met him a few days later. Meantime, we met up with Andre, and we ate dinner with him after our sailing race experiences. He made us yummy garlic butter spaghetti.
The boats in our wake:
We enjoyed ourselves so much that Johnny took Andre and me out on the boat on Saturday, the 8th. One of the crew of the Lady Hawk, Dan, also liked to dive, and so the plan was to rent equipment, sail out to Armit Island, and dive twice in the reef around the island. I think it's called a coral cay. The other cool thing about Johnny, who is about 70, is that he's died four times. He's had four heart surgeries and says he's living on borrowed time, so he just enjoys life. He also talks like a sailor.
Johnny is sitting at the wheel with his wife Linika. They had the engine on as we started out toward the island.
They had the cutest 6-month-old Staffie. I took about a thousand pictures of him. His name is Harley, after the bike. We got along so well that Harley often tried to nibble my earlobes.
Once we got to the island, we anchored and took the dinghy to the shore. The Lady Hawk is here offshore, the one in front.
Armit Island wasn't an armpit; it was paradise. This is the shoreline off which I dove. The current was strong and the visibility poor, but the coral as before was beautiful. I posted pictures at the last entry. The pictures didn't really do the view justice, primarily because you lose the ability to see colors the further down you go. In person I saw stronger colors than what's shown in the pictures. Even so, the first color lost is red, then orange, then yellow, and down the rainbow, hence why everything seems so blue-green with the piddly little flashbulb of the waterproof camera (on loan from Dan, my dive buddy). You'll have to wait for the pictures from the Lady Musgrave Island trip, since I did take a waterproof camera, but it wasn't digital.
On the beach of Armit was such a nice lagoon where nearly everyone sat or waded and drank beers. Harley was somewhat afraid of the water and wouldn't get in. Sara, one of the gals on the boat, watched on.
Function over beauty. Upon surfacing, the skilled (or newly and somewhat skilled) diver inflates the BC (Buoyancy Control).
After a half hour or more, we went down for a second dive. We only went to a depth of 6 meters the first time, and on this one we went down to 12 meters. This put me, ultimately, in group I in the Padi nitrogen charts! I trained with SSI, not Padi. Are the groupings the same? Anyway, here's a picture of my dive buddy Dan.
We were back on the boat in time for lunch. We were famished. I don't remember eating so fast in my life. I half-ate-half-swallowed an avocado-veggie sandwich and a small container of tabouli. I forgot to mention that--and this was the case after all my dives, now numbering 8--food tastes better after diving. After my fourth dive, I had a fresh squeezed apple-pineapple-ginger juice and a falafel, and it was one of the best lunches I've ever had! That's a lot of hyphens!
On the way back, for nearly the entire journey back to the Airlie Beach shore, Johnny let me drive the boat. We didn't use the engine, just the main sail and the jib.
Then I turned the boat over to Andre. While he sailed us nearly home, I sat on the deck and watched the sun set.
This brings us to the night of the 8th, which means I'm only five days behind on updates and not 21.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
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